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...
Sunday, November 29, 2015
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.
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.
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