dodging Joy

                                               
   From my own junior high and high school experience...I remember playing the infamous game of dodge ball.  I was really good at staying in the back and ducking, jumping and using fast reflexes to avoid the bigger kids throws.  After getting to be the last player a couple games in a row I remember how a disgusted player from my own team told me I wasn't a real player.  Well I was a real player--but not 100% "all in" might be a better description.

--Although dodge ball isn't my life--I draw a parallel to how I played it....

I have discovered a truth about how I live and how I engage JOY.  I have watched many other people and I have noticed some similarities in talking with others about how they handle "the good times" or periods of joy in their lives.

Almost every time without fail I don't live out--feeling the full 100% of Joy that's been given and is standing face to face with me.

At first when I realized this I thought about how and why--and what's this about? I think I handle it like dodge ball, jumping away from the full effects, ducking, and shielding it away with other balls to stay alive in the game of life--never taking that head on shot.

Well it's been going on for a while and here's the deal...I believe that if I don't fully go all in with the joy--then somehow the difficult times when they come again (--and they come again for all of us) I will also not get both barrels of that blast straight on--avoid a direct head on shot. Somehow I will get a diminished or reduced life changing event.

"It's a deal with the devil" as Brene Brown writes in her book "Rising Strong"--"and the devil never pays...when we deny our stories and disengage from the emotion--it means choosing to live our lives in the dark. "

 The imagery of darkness is something I know all too well...Sometimes I feel like Bane in the movie--The Dark Knight Rises--comparing my level of darkness by quoting "you merely befriended the darkness---....I was born in it."

However--When we decide to own our own stories and live our truth, we bring light to the darkness.

That doesn't mean it's easy street--even long after naming it aloud--but it does mean we get to live transparent warts and all.  It does mean putting myself out there--and fully living in the joy of the moment...with no waiting for the other shoe to drop mentality...just living in the now--breathing and taking it all in.  Whatever this holiday season brings and moving forward I want to be courageous enough to really live "all in."

I don't want to dodge real joy a minute longer when it presents itself...I want to take in every ounce as a gift knowing it is a great gift that can't protect me from future pain--it's just today's gift.

When I think about living this way, I think about Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting---a young man with an extended smart answer for everything except not being able to commit "all in" with his emotions...

In the final scene Ben Afleck shows up to pick up his friend for work---but he's not there....he is embracing joy in all of it's uncertainty for tomorrow as he drives across the country to chase after a woman he loves..."ALL IN"

the last conversation

  This week is a difficult week for me.  You see it is the anniversary of the day my day passed away--Dec. 5th.

My dad and I had a rocky relationship...most of the time I craved his approval but I felt I didn't like the things he liked--and wasn't interested in the things he was--especially chores or fixing things around the house.  His length of focus in hanging in with hopelessly lengthy projects long exceeded my puny attempts at hanging in with him.  Mostly I wanted to be beyond his arm length in case he lost patience--which was far more of a concern.

Oh there were many issues and I could write about it from so many angles but they really won't change the story or where it intersects my own story.

My dad went in for an operation in June and all of my siblings went to see him...it was a serious operation.  I couldn't afford to go...I lost the opportunity to speak with him for the last time.

I did see my dad in November as all of my brothers and sisters gathered around him on a ventilator breathing machine to celebrate his and mom's anniversary.  He had been on the machine for months with many setbacks and infections and his lungs were just too weak from years of smoking.

I had him alone with everyone temporarily leaving the room.

These are the kind of moments that are made of courage--even if it doesn't end up with the result I want--I thought. If I don't speak up I'll be one of those men forever stuck by my own paralysis of action.

Dad, things didn't always go how I wanted, or how you wanted...some things have come out wrong...some actions came out wrong...but I want you to hear me that--I forgive you.

Forgiveness is a strange thing.  I didn't really feel it when I spoke the words to him, but I had to speak it while I had time.  Having believed this would release him from his mistakes in parenting me, or use of discipline that scared the life out of me and unplugged me emotionally as I attempted to build walls to keep me safe from everyone....something different happened.

Over time I realized forgiveness actually frees the forgiver much more than the forgiven. I guess had I read some books on forgiveness I could have come to this conclusion quicker...but our own stories always sear the lessons into our minds forever much more effectively.

I also realized that forgiveness is a decision that needs to be made daily.  You see, I could relapse into an unforgiving angry spirit--even after pledging my forgiveness--and many days I did.  It's not a perfect trail, it has many peaks and valleys.

I remember my dad once sharing that he was the baby of the family (many years younger than his 3 siblings) and I realized for the first time my dad was probably a "surprise" baby late in life. He had a father (my grandfather) who had been told by his dad (my great grandfather) "this farm isn't big enough for the two of us" and so he left South Denisville, NJ for the city of Philadelphia.  He never received his father's blessing as he embarked out on his journey of life and he had never passed one on to my father either.  No surprise that the story of generations of broken dads continued to my own story.

I realized something long ago--that I do believe he was doing the best he can do--given his situation and the tools available to him.  That doesn't make it ok--everything that happened...it really doesn't change any of the other characters but myself--it makes my heart feel more whole.

 When I believe that he did the best he could--it grants grace...and I'm the one who looks through a different lens.

The conversation wasn't perfect or even all that articulate...but it would be our final conversation--and in the absence of my father's voice I found I had a voice.  How the discovery of my own voice making noises--made me want to growl at the injustice...instead I granted the grace as best as I could.

Dad--with every year that you have been gone I long to have meaningful conversations with you...ones where we share our stories more. I want you to know that I'm sorry you never received what you needed or your dad's blessing--I know you desired it. I want you to know that I have one major thing I am proud of in my life---with this generation the story is being rewritten in the Taylor family.  I am passing on grace ---and creating a relationship with my son that would make you proud. I have given him words of encouragement and life.

The chains are broken with this generation and the story's ending is yet to be determined....but the trajectory has promise.

One day we will share new stories and you are free to whistle as many tunes as you want--it makes you happy.

My Dad shared a dream with me...he wasn't a man with grandiose aspirations...he told me he would feel happy and complete if he could own and run a small soft serve ice cream stand.  This probably sounds sacrilegious to some of you---I shared that with a friend this week--my belief is that he (dad) is in heaven and running that soft serve shop and talking with others welcoming them all into the heavenly courtyard-and believing that I can't help but smile that dad is now living out a dream...

the value of intergrity

                                                 The value of Integrity

 It is my opinion that men don't understand the purpose or value of integrity today.
In fact, I believe most men avoid looking at it seriously at all costs--it's too uncomfortable to have to look at this.

 Let me clean that statement up--I didn't see the purpose or value in my own integrity.

 That all changed one Monday night in 2010 as I came face to face with the wake of my own integrity--or lack of it.

 I went to that Monday night...clearing round...and then the integrity round.

 There's nothing like a crisis in a man's life to bring him to looking at making changes--to throttle him into movement...and I was throttled.

 I tried to muster up the voice and courage to get to my feet.  I headed to the center of the circle to face everyone.  I had always heard "the circle is strong enough for that" but was it strong enough for the good, the bad, and the ugliness of this?

 I had no choice--I had already lost my job, lost my reputation, my family's respect and my credibility.

 I confessed it all to that circle of men...it all came out...it sounded ghastly...it sounded depraved and awful...when I was finished I stood there, head down and full of shame...I was looking into the hardest place--the mirror. My integrity was ugly rags that couldn't cover me.

 I remember looking out at some of the men and seeing some faces that were angry and disapproving, others in shock and I couldn't look at them in the face so I bowed my head.  This can't be happening I thought...this can't be where and how my story ends...this isn't who I'm supposed to be.

 Some men indeed were angry at me....some never spoke to me again after that night.  One man cleared with me months later. Many men to my surprise decided to walk this journey out with me...and that was more than I had expected.

 I still stood in the center of the circle..shirt soaked with sweat, my head burning up and yet I was chilled by the AC that had kicked on. I longed for tears to shower me and clean me from the dirtiness of my own story...but they failed to come.

 Out of the awkwardness of the silence... as I stood there came a voice saying "I forgive you Glenn"...then a second..."I forgive you Glenn" ...then a third...a fourth and fifth.  I knew a few of the voices but they came from different directions--and I was shocked.

 Have you ever heard something and wondered if anyone ever heard it too? But you were afraid to ask-or talk about it?

 That's when I heard a voice--it came from behind me--it emanated from the empty spot in the circle where I had been sitting before I moved to the center---it said "I love you Glenn."

 Now I had rarely been granted forgiveness in my life, but I definitely had never heard these words ever.  To this day I believe it was the voice of God the Father giving me strength and courage for the journey that lay ahead.

 I turned my head and opened my eyes but no one was there in that spot. I started to sob heavy tears. How is it I could always be ready to fight but not prepared to hear love?  It came at me like a right hook that I never saw coming--and--It knocked me out...I haven't been the same since. It ruined isolation for me.

 I don't remember when the last time I had allowed myself to cry--but it had been many years.  The salty warm sensation brought back memories of growing up--memories long since locked away and that had been walled up--never, ever to be reopened or touched--and never to be felt again.  That sadness was from a deep reservoir that I dare not acknowledge or examine lest I be swept into its swift currents and never be found again.

 As I look back on this past Monday evening and what transpired, I can't help but smile as I recall the voices of many men challenging each other. I no longer hear something
unimportant, nothing militant or procedural...I hear the calling to have words and actions in congruency in the way I was challenged from the voices within--and then challenged from the outside voices.  I could fight against them or fake them, even stay silent to them...but to quote a New Adam Friday night quote--"but then--that's not why I'm here."

 The value of being in integrity as a man--to me is equivalent to having my fractures pushed back into placement and bandaged--it was the ER help I needed to begin to heal. It hurt bad having them set...

...But it is these scars that have now become my gold.

"seeing things" again

There are times when I have observed how others are gifted...how they find ease and satisfaction doing what it appears they were always meant to do.  I remember feeling a twinge of jealousy knowing how they were able to do good things...that were already in their heart to do.

I've watched my one brother stand up and speak his truth and see renovations of things--the end product was in his vision plain as day and he wondered why others couldn't see what he saw.

I've watched my son Grant step in and connect with others from his past in a way that protects and shelters his sisters, watched him connect with other friends in a way that only someone with a high EQ could ever see and accomplish. He connects to others with words in a way that is powerful to all he touches.

I've watched my friend Josh step into his gifting and begin to be seen and appreciated for what he brings.  It's very powerful to watch a person realize their own value and gifting--when others start to appreciate them and look to them for those gifts, vision and wisdom. None of it surprises me as he has spoken of his vision and painted a picture with stories for years...it's only surprising to him as it is coming to fruition as he saw it all those years ago.

It's only in the past year or so I really have come to appreciate what I can bring with ease and step into.  I had always thought that it was my strength of survival--  and long suffering that would be my legacy...far from it.

It was my baby sister Laura that worded it best for me--"you are the one who sees others."  I was at Chick Filet in Cool Springs and saw the dining room attendant "Rosa" and we were both excited to see each other.

Why????

I had worked in Cool Springs for the better part of 10 years and had seen her there like everyone else...She always took care of everyone and she did it well.  One day she seemed particularly down and I put down my book and my own issues of loneliness from my life--I approached her and inquired what was going on and if she was all right--but in Spanish.  Although my Spanish was very poor she seemed to appreciate the effort--and to appreciate that she was not invisible. That began ongoing dialogue on subsequent visits and I learned a great deal of her story and family history as it played into the life of who she had become....

And so to see her again after a few years--was something beautiful as she shared and updated me about her daughter and her family...and I got to share with my smile some of the gold from my trials--as only a man on the other side of an arduous journey can do.

I used to wonder why no one would talk about things after seeing the same things together as me...now I realize that it's only me that sees this in just this way and it is my job to speak into that...in fact if I don't speak into that it very well might go unnoticed or unspoken all together.

The moments that change our world in some way are small things...sometimes spoken words and sometimes simple actions observed by others...many times small actions not observed-done in obscurity--only seen by the one that matters most--our father above.

I have been taking stock in what I still want to do with the rest of my life...
Speak into lives to cause change and give hope...
Use my scars as my gold to those who really need to have that...
Teach and encourage others...
Work in a business with Grant before I retire...

That would be a full life--and would give me the legacy I want to leave-with the time I still have.

My mom also once observed and told me--you are the one who can inspire and bring others together for a cause.

Mom--you are right--I can do this-facing impossible odds and daunting circumstances--whether with my work teams--or missions trips to Ecuador, or Hurricane Katrina relief, or simply ball teams...I have found my voice, and my message of hope to go with seeing others--but it is the simple gift of seeing things in others that is the endearing and fluent overflowing gift I've been given to share freely that ultimately will define my life.

What is that thing in your life that you've been given that only you bring in that way...and with ease?

What are you doing with that gift?

I'd really be stoked to hear back from others what those things are...it redeems so much in my mind when others take time to connect back.

Please share back for everyone...you never know who's life you might change.

Esau moment for Father's Day

 One of the biggest issues in society today is the problem that men--yes dads do not affirm their sons...they give no blessing to send them out into the world.  It's a sad and dismal failure that I have personally witnessed over generations. The critical moment comes and there is silence where affirmation and blessing should take place.

The mere fact that men don't realize this is proof to how far we are from where we should be.

In honor of father's day I need to stand up and speak the truth regarding fathers today and this travesty.

There was a time when I was younger...about 20 years old.  I longed to hear some words from my dad.  I wanted his approval and blessing so badly--craved to hear some affirming words from him.  I wanted to hear something about my working hard and putting myself through community college without debt and moving on to the four year college, or about being the first in my family to get their degree...really I would have accepted almost anything he could have said --if only I could have heard something at that critical moment...but alas it was crickets. I remember the hollow ache deep inside.

As the years began passing I tried to set him up-- leading him to the juncture so he could "spike it" with some words or phrase, but he never took the lead and gave me what I longed for.  He never told me I had what it takes to be a man...and as that's what I needed-- it remained unfulfilled.

As I unpack that wounding and I observe and listen to so many other stories of people who have touched my life--dad's are a hot topic.  Their words have the power to bless but so many times have had the power to tear down.

I loved hearing stories from my dad about growing up.  He talked working at a soda fountain at the corner drug store.  He traded some good times for responsible work ethic.  I don't know everything about him but I do know his mom's words were more plentiful and meaningful in his life.  His own father "Harold" had no words for him.  So my dad went out without the blessing he longed for and started blazing his own trail with no tangible words of guidance or sage wisdom to be shared.

One of the stories that captivated my imagination was my grandfather "Harold" and his dad "Joseph" (great grandfather). They lived on a farm in south Jersey in a town called South Denisville.  Not much there but Jersey tomatoes, peaches and other vegetables...and lots of mosquitos.  Well as the story goes Harold takes the train to Cape May to attend high school and come home on weekends.  When he gets to the age of eighteen--the age a boy looks for affirmation of his growth that he is becoming a man--he does not receive his blessing...rather he receives the words "Harold, this farm ain't big enough for the both of us."  And so we discover how and why my family's roots headed through to Philadelphia in our journey.

I also realized just another generation that missed "it." It--as in the opportunity to affirm, and bless---and to launch that young man into the world with the confidence of who he is.

I can see the baton has been passed over and over--yet in the wrong way. Repeating the same mistakes and silence at critical junctions where a man's words would bring life to his son.

I wonder what type of man my dad would have been had he received those words he needed.  Maybe it would have changed our whole family's trajectory and story.  Instead of trading in his jovial outlook on life--for responsibility and playing it safe...perhaps he would have dared greatly and it would have changed so much.

This brings me to fast forward.  My dad was lying in bed at a nursing home on a ventilator when I went to him and told him "I forgive you dad..."...I released him from everything growing up.  I didn't really mean it at the time, but I wanted to...and he was gone from this world a week later.

Today as I look out into the distance-- so many men still act like small children floundering in their own brokenness and are unable to provide the words so desperately needed because they never received those themselves.

It's time to break the chain, stop this pathetic cycle.  This father's day I want to give back to dad--his Esau moment...the moment he needed and should have had. If I had the power I would let him hear this loud and clear...nothing about me--this is about healing...

Ken---you have what it takes!!! You are more than enough.  You are kindhearted and fun  loving...you are a good provider and tender caring husband to Dorothy.  You will take kids in and give them a future and a hope.  As my daughter recalls, your deep laugh bellows out and chokes out all other sound--swallowing it up and inviting others to laugh with you.  You love your American Indian heritage as a badge of honor. You enjoy any activity where you can provide fun for your children. Your whistle is the loudest and yet carries tunes better and with more joy-than anyone I have ever met. You are the Whistling Chief and "Friend to All." You are a man amongst men, and you are free to be these things that you are and that you bring to the world. I miss you Dad.

Happily I have seen some of my brothers break the cycle and pass on a different legacy than the one we inherited.  It is AWESOME to see those Scars become our Gold.
This father's day I pray that this gives you permission and the courage--especially if you never received those words yourself that you needed....to lay that down and forgive (yes forgive what was never spoken and never asked for your forgiveness), and to break the cycle and start your own legacy.

 Give the power of your own words to others...give them the words you always wanted to receive...what a spin on an Esau moment it would be if men stood up and not only affirmed their children and blessed them (the future generation)...but in the same moment could forgive and thus be part of the healing of the past generation as well.  Now that would be a generation of fathers I could only wish to be a part of...

the Power of a few words

 I was lost in my busyness...too busy to look up from my work.  A shadow was growing larger and someone had invaded my office space.  Their body blocked the light coming in from the hallway and I couldn't focus in at first.

"I came to ask how your daughter is doing?" said the man. It was Rob, a man with a very interesting story and journey of his own...from working in our warehouse to now working in customer service.  He's someone who is always cool and always friendly and we've been friends since I was first introduced to him.  He has a very positive outlook on life and it pervades outwardly to others.

I looked around, stopped pounding the computer keyboard and started to tell him how we've had some challenges and issues with my daughter with anxiety and depression and then I had to stop.  You see, Rob found out a few months back his beautiful 16 tear old daughter has brain cancer.

He has had to find the strength to be a rock from first shocking diagnosis to treatments of chemo at a hospital center in Memphis.  He would log his work shift, turn around and drive the 3-4 hrs run to be with her...his little girl and his wife, only to run back as daybreak approached to be back for work and do it all again. He has had to manage the details of caring for his other children.

Recently his family found out that the chemo had shrunk the cancer to half it's original size and so they operated and got about 80% of the tumor.  They are continuing chemo and praying for her daily. This has been an astounding turn around from the bleak original diagnosis and yet--still there is far more of a difficult journey to endeavor.

In light of Rob's challenges and struggles my own situation looked like nothing.  Here was a man putting aside his own fears and struggles and coming halfway around the building just to ask me how my daughter was doing.

I was floored that someone could do that--and set their own struggles aside.  I have faith...and I say that I trust God for the outcome...and here was someone showing me how that's done.

It was a short interaction with a big lesson on faith.  I think rather than beating myself up on this one I'll take this lesson and try to pass it on. Because I know Rob's story and everything he's been going through--it makes this an inspiring act of selflessness and empathy I won't soon forget.

From Uncertainty to Lifeguard

Uncertainty...I hate it.  I want to control my plans, my family's future...I want to make a difference in my children's lives and direction. When something prevents that--it is a deep source of stress for me.

The unspoken thief of those plans are anxiety and depression.  You see that is one of my daughter's diagnosis...anxiety and depression.  Medication can keep you from dropping off an emotional cliff, but it can't force you to enter into the mainstream and exist with dreams like other children. It can't help you to see your strengths, gifts and opportunities ahead of you.

There are times I ache so desperately inside.  I grew up with a mom that faced deep battles with depression-disappearing for long stretches of time--hills and long valley of deep depression.  Instead of making me more compassionate, it makes me want to yell "snap out of it--pick yourself up and get back in the game--your whole future lies ahead." It makes me feel responsible for bringing this genetic mishap into the mix...it makes me ashamed of my own family history and what it has spawned. Perhaps other family members or my brother's or sister's children have also suffered--maybe in silent agony, I just don't know...no one has spoken it--and so I agonize with Michelle and also alone in part--praying for a healing, praying for relief for her...hoping for a better life for her--real life, just a normal life--whatever normal is or could be.

I think part of me will never truly know the depths of what deep depression can do.  I do know that one of the visible consequences is that instead of seeing the opportunities---like her beautiful singing, musical talent and love for performing and sharing that musicality, she will dwell on the immediate drama or doom of whatever is going on in any friend's life.  It is admirable to feel empathy for a friend, but is is unbearable to feel a responsibility to help or fix the situation at all costs and be able to do anything else other than dwell constantly on that issue.

I long for so many things like any dad would...for my daughter to have dreams...for her to have a good and caring network of real friends--even one--who could lovingly speak truth into her life where she would listen and accept it.  I want her to graduate high school and go on to college...to own a coffee shop is one of her dreams and to perform there as an artist.  So many dreams...but the lack of being able to see through today's pain to the dream that is in reality so close if she works hard and can begin to focus in on some of the dreams.  What is the key to getting her to see the dreams more than today's self caused drama...what causes today's immediate issue to loom larger than any good that is seen by her mom & I so plainly?

I have prayed so often over her room...where so much pain and loneliness has grown larger instead of the friends presence or God's own presence.  I have asked for healing or understanding but I feel inadequate of gaining either as we travel this journey.

The unspoken thief of depression and anxiety is that it is rarely mentioned for adults...let alone a younger age group.  There is no real understanding within the church or christians that would welcome sharing this burden...or come along side for the journey--something that would be so welcomed.  When a hospitalization happens once, everyone in our lives is concerned...twice, "that's a shame", but by the multi-time visit the story is old and too much weight for the average connection in life to really ask and be willing to listen. We know it and others that are aware--just can't take it on.

In the rare case that someone in our lives really asks and seems to want to listen we are more than willing to share like my wife did with a kind soul at work the other day.  It seems like a gift straight from heaven to share some weight and lighten her burdened soul.  I feel the aging of the whole situation as a heavy weight on my soul --feel it in my chest, my shoulders, feel it across my burdened forehead.

I know we are invited to live transparently and it is something I believe in deeply and attempt to do with those who walk this path with me.  It is not something I take lightly.  I have watched Michelle grow so much and share in the same way...it is powerful growth, and gold that she gives to others by doing it as well.

God-- if this is the path you intend for Kelly Hope--I am with you in the heartache to the end and I know you will walk along my side and even carry me with your strength if needed.  If there is a lesson for me to learn or Kelly I pray we learn it--in your timing--and we gain the gold from the scars. If you truly ache when we ache and you cry the tears with our burdened souls--then I pray for compassion and that a corner is not only turned but that you turn it upside down to where she can help others with crossing these deep waters.  Lord every fiber in me groans..I pen these words from the tears of a dad who aches for their sick child.  I don't understand and I want her healing.  I do trust you--I trust in your plans--this is put to the test.  I have seen your plans in my own life --plans that are better than anything I could have hoped for or dreamed--and I have seen your true favor poured out on me.  I ask for this favor portion be given to her in my place.  I lay this out before everyone Lord...my pride, our privacy, our fears, our aching, the imperfect brokenness of imperfect people trying so hard to just live a quiet and kind existence--just normal--just PEACE.  Yes the desperate goal of peace.  We want so badly for you to show up--you are the hero of the story and I believe you will show--you will show when you are ready for the next chapter to be written.  How I pray for strength to accept that chapter you are about to write.  I know you promise you see every tear--and they are falling so often and deeply from the heart...I quiver like a child with deep sobbing.

I know there is so much heartache in the world...this should be barely a blip on the radar of the world.  The school has written her off...society is writing her off...these are the perfect odds for you--this is when no one else can take credit--only you.  Save this drowning girl and allow her to become a lifeguard in turn to help a future drowning soul.

the miracle on 52nd street, no just my street

Although I was working and the trials were behind me...we were behind by 5+ months on the mortgage and knew we were going to lose the house very soon.  I remember crying and offering it up to God..."take it God--if you want it--it's yours."

  I don't know exactly what that moment did in my heart but I know I wasn't clawing to hold onto it.  I wanted whatever God wanted...and by all accounts we were going to be homeless in short order. If he wanted something different for us then I wanted to be moving in the same direction--in tune with his plans.

We put the house up for sale to sell it before it foreclosed.

Each day we would have realtors calling and my wife would load the kids and dog in the car after school and drive around while it was shown...sometimes over and over multiple times daily...the cleaning and not being able to live in it fully--and knowing it was no longer going to be ours. Some showings would be so teasing-lasting for hours as each light switch, electrical outlet was tested--and then the jacuzzi tub turned on only to spew water around and flood our bathroom, but after all of that 4 hours later--we had no offer.

I can't over emphasize the difficulty that period was in our lives...for me I had to survive the two jobs and then have my wits about me for my wife's fears and concerns. It was physically draining but I can't overstate the mental aspect of dealing with life's consequences and curves while physically drained.  I felt like my body had been beat up and beat up some more--and then squeezed through a wringer to make certain no hidden pockets of energy had survived.

For Michelle, it meant so much more--her home was ripped out of her hands and she had no say in any of it.  She hadn't asked for any of this.  It meant not only swallowing her pride but having it shredded daily.  There was losing health care and those fears of providing care for her children.  There was losing our beautiful SUV and having to be appreciative of the 20 yr old loaner car we were provided by loving friends with no air conditioning. What could we say-but thank you?! God was showing me how to be thankful in all things.  I wasn't the model cooperative student but I did understand the lessons provided and hoped to understand more of his plans...see a bigger picture in all of this.

The letters from the mortgage company continued to mount and they were so threatening.  The continued barrage of phone calls which always began with "this is an attempt to collect a debt..."

 I had filled out home assistance forms from the government more than four times with no success or replies.  Each day multiple threatening letters yet the only payment they would accept was the full 6 months of payments combined plus fees, penalties and interest...no problem!

When you call and you are on your last thread of sanity you can hear the compassion on the other end...just kidding, life is just what it is for those people collecting, there is no room for compassion to be expressed.  It's just business.

After months of the yo-yo realty games we apparently had a buyer. Then there was the realization that this was a low ball offer and they were offering barely over what we owed on our mortgage...they also had a list of demands: new roof, radon system and removal and many other things.  I put down the offer and cried...it was so cruel as the house was worth so much more. The value had dropped over 100,000 in just 8 months.  I was over a barrel and they knew it. My hope was trampled flat and left dead with no heartbeat.

I struggled to chew some peanut butter crackers sitting on the front steps and pondered the deep hurt this was causing.  I knew I had to eat to keep up my strength, but I didn't want to eat anything. I thought this was the bottom --Then the bottom dropped out as I received a phone call from the place we wanted to rent from (if we sold) and we failed our credit check with them.  Now if we signed the low ball offer...they would want us out in just 7 days and pay for a list of items on their wish list and we would be homeless with no where to go. I didn't question or blame God--but I sure wasn't feeling solid about him either--and I wanted to help him with his plans to help me feel better and I thrashed about to regain some semblance of control of my life.

With my heart heavy with fear and afraid of the hopelessness and despair of a mother trying to protect her children...I trudged out to the mailbox to get what I figured to be the final foreclosure letter.  The foreclosure was scheduled for 48 hrs. from then. The delivery of doom was complete as the mailman pulled away not realizing the terrible delivery of news he was carrying.

I read the first letter...same story--less than 2 days and it would be sold out from under us and we would be homeless. I didn't even know exactly where our courthouse was--but on those steps my home would be sold in less than two days.

The second letter was something of a mystery-from a government agency for assistance...it looked like a form letter.  It wasn't.  It was a letter of hope.  It was the golden ticket in Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory---We received one of those Obama assistance packages and it saved us less than two days from complete loss.  I remember reading it with Michelle and thinking God can truly do anything he wants at this point. We looked at the letter together in disbelief--reading it over again..I fell to my knees with the tears streaming down.

I had given it back to him and he threw me a boomerang.  He wanted us to stay there--at least for now, and the payment rate provided was manageable for the next 5 months...simply amazing.

I was told later that most people that had applied were rejected because they didn't have a second job--so it was reasoned they were not doing everything they could do.  Once again...God's providence through the second job-physically draining but a piece of his providence.

I called the realtor and turned down the offer...he reminded me "Mr. Taylor this is no time for pride--you need to act now--the impending foreclosure is smack in your life's plans"...I told him not to worry, God had a different plan.

lessons from Rocky Balboa

Yeah--I'm from Philly...and I'm proud of that.  As I was growing up and entering my teen years out came the movie Rocky. I immediately identified with it...the indomitable spirit, the never say die, never quitting...having a dream and laboring anonymously striving to move towards it despite the naysayers, despite the odds, lack of support...fill in the blank...that never quit attitude and being ready to fight for it was a badge of honor.

I watched and listened to his words as if they were coming from someone close that I wished were mentoring me.

A man of the people, rising up from his neighborhood...He is the poster child for the spirit that will not quit.  There has always been something deep within me that loves that spirit.

I have always felt like something of an underdog...a middle class kid from a family that really didn't belong in true middle class where we were.  My parents ended up in a great place at a great time..it's called timing and it was good enough to propel most of us kids forward to opportunities we wouldn't have had otherwise...for me, I would have been lost had we stayed in the big city, Lost...

For the better part of high school and college and my early adult life, I was still fighting.  I'm not even sure what I was fighting anymore...after a while it was about the fight more than the reality of the situation.  I was fighting for my place at the table, whether that was work or in my family...I fought on---feeling unworthy of my place at the table and not believing I had one.  In fact, the very mention of the words still hurts deep within today as they have played out and the music has stopped and there was no chair.

Fast forward many years and while I was at my lowest points and starting to fight on and climb the mountain again for respect, credibility and reputation in my personal and vocational life...it was my son Grant who asked the big question..."Dad, how do you get up after working 18 hours and then sleeping for 2 or 3 hours and do it all over and over."

I thought about it shortly and said "I don't know how to quit...I cannot fail."

It wasn't anything brilliant or brave...simply the same-never say die--only instead of it being a battle half imagined it was the battle for my family and the battle of my life.  Judging by my remaining strength I was into the late rounds and Creed was amazed I was still there.  Something deep inside was keeping me fighting on but instead of taking credit it was strictly survival--call it what it was--survival.

A few months passed after that discussion with my son and my gas tank was on "E".  It was difficult to find the motivation to not get angry and go to self pity...enter a friend.  That friend gave me what I needed--called out things he saw in me--and I listened.  I shut up and listened.  I wanted to refute the things he said but instead I chose to grab hold of that life preserver of encouragement tightly and paddle with all I had left. 

That gold I was given that day was enough to propel me to the next stop..it was like running in a marathon and having a brother run along side with a bottle of water--just at the right time.  He spoke to me concerning finding the "good in perseverance."  It was a good that meant not celebrating my strength or not quitting but in finding the blessing from others that were actually getting me through.  This was a change in paradigm.  I didn't really believe in what he spoke that he was seeing that day, but I was willing to entertain the thought that he could see the start of something I could not see.

A few weeks after that talk came father's day and my son Grant gave me something close to my heart.

He gave a quote on his handwritten card to me.  Since the hard times of January 2010--we have only given each other handwritten cards...it makes memorable moments this way. It's one of those blessings that come from the hard times that you wouldn't change for anything.

He gave me this quote from the final Rocky movie.  A Rocky quote from my son?  Now we've come full circle!

Grant told me it's how much you can take and still keep moving forward.  He said he was proud of me that I keep engaging the fight and moving forward.

Man--what else does a dad need to hear in life?

A wife's encouragement, a son's belief in his dad...it doesn't get any better than these two things...

I read that card over and over...basking in the warmth and soaring in my spirit.  

Sometimes I still feel like such an underdog in life and I still don't ever like to quit or give up...although I have learned a few things...

God births the beautiful out of the ugly struggle...

The memories and stories in the struggle are always reused and reframed to help someone else at the right time and place if I stay alert to his direction...

We were never created to fight alone...God gives us others to train with and he himself never abandons our side...

and so I fight on...but now to encourage others to persevere through the difficult and toughest of times...

It's a fight I gladly accept as this ring was made with me in mind...