Guilt

guilt

  [gilt]  Show IPA

noun

1.

the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation,or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: Headmitted his guilt.

2.

a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime,wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.

3.

conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: tolive a life of guilt.

This whole week I have been looking forward to Friday because I was going to be able to go to the bike store to look at bikes. When I would talk about it with Danielle...I felt guilty. 

As most of you know, I'm really focusing on getting into a healthy lifestyle, and one goal to get me there is to train and complete the BRAN. This week I also had the opportunity to go ride with the band director at Burke. After meetings on Wednesday, we left from Burke, found a trail...and went on our way. As we finished up....I shot Danielle a text to let her know we were finishing up, and it was about 5:30. Jonathan had swimming lessons at 6. Again, I felt a sense of guilt because not only did I miss time with my family, I was going to miss going to Jonathan's swimming lessons, and make Danielle do it all on her own. Guilt.

A few weeks ago, I decided to create a fundraiser on GoFundMe to help raise funds to offset the purchase of a road bike, training for BRAN, and cost of BRAN. The fundraiser was also going to provide donations to a mentoring project because I was just reminded lately that my father (and his father) passed away at the age of 44. That age lays heavy on me. But when I made the fundraising public to ask people for financial help, I had a weird knot in my stomach. Guilt.

So tonight, I waited for Danielle to get home from an appointment so I could head off to the Bike Rack here in Omaha. I had been doing A LOT of research on bike options via the internet, and also talking with a friend of mine who lives in Ogallala. Through conversation with Jim and reading articles, I narrowed down the bike options to a few bikes. So today, I went and test rode both of them. I had in the back of my mind that if one felt right, I would buy it...and that didn't sit the best anyway. Long story short...there was a great fit and I pulled the trigger on buying the road bike that I will train with and complete BRAN on. You would think I would feel excitement...which I did. But also...GUILT.

As I drove home, I wasn't sure how to discuss the cost of the bike with Danielle...GUILT. 

But here is the thing. It wasn't frivolous. It wasn't a purchase that wasn't thought about, stressed about, prayed about...it was a purchase that everybody who really knows me is expecting. This purchase wasn't a "I want this cool road bike so I'm going to buy it." This purchase was a "I made a public commitment to better myself and this is a step in the right direction." I shouldn't feel guilty. Was the money there in the fundraising...NO. Will it ever be there...I don't know. What I do need to learn is that a decision to become healthier should never carry a weight of guilt if I'm going to find success. 

What I do know is that one goal of mine through the fundraiser was to learn to lean on God as my sustainer and compass. I feel that if my decisions are made with that focus in mind...I shouldn't CARE what others think about my choice. God has set it on my heart that things need to change. I need to change. My ability to lead a healthy life and be a role model in that area needs to change. Part of that change will come through my passion of biking.

So am I still guilty...NO. Philippians 3:14 says 

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

And this needs to be my focus...a goal oriented drive that doesn't get sidetracked by earthly concerns. Now please understand, this doesn't give me free reign to be irresponsible with the gifts HE has given us. I take that responsibility very seriously.

So, off I go to break the new bike in. I'm excited to take it out tomorrow on it's first long ride. I'm excited to set a new PR with distance and speed, and to continually push myself to travel faster, more often, and farther. For those reading...thank you for the support. I truly appreciate it and can't do this without you...especially my wonderful wife. She is supportive to the end and I have been blessed with a Godly partner who wants me to be better! Please check back to here about the other successes, struggles, and milestones I hit through this journey!

Dad's Journal

A couple days ago, Danielle had the opportunity to go to a concert with a few of her colleagues. One of her colleagues said that I would be writing about this experience that I'm going through. Weight loss, fatherhood, working through childhood, etc. My first response was to laugh, because I am by no means a writer. Nobody wants to know what I think. Nobody wants to know what I'm going through. Who cares what my struggles are? That is for me to figure out.

Then I remembered a file that my sister gave us a few years back. It was a compilation of some journaling that my dad had written through his journey as well. I'm sure when he sat down to write his first entry at the age of 25 (or looking back on his age of 25), he didn't think anybody would value his writings. Man was he anything but wrong. I pulled out the journal today and intend to REALLY read it. To digest it. To contemplate it. To question it. Is this something that Jonathan will be looking back on down the road? No. My goal is to word vomit my thoughts through this blog. Will it be pretty? No. Will it matter to you? Probably not. Will it help me through the process of bettering my life? That is the goal.

Before finishing up, I wanted to include some excerpts from my dad's journal, which I will also do through my personal journaling. Sometimes there will be backstory, sometimes not. This excerpt seemed to be when my dad was at his lowest during his journey of heart problems.

"My world went into a tailspin again. My offered hopes seemed to be like a rug that had been jerked out from underneath my feet. My faith was being tested to the limits at this time. I could not understand why God would allow me to bear such pain. I prayed often for an answer to WHY, but could never get an answer. I pared that Go would take me home with Him. Why? Why? Why would God allow this to keep happening? He said he would never give us more than we can carry, but at this time I found it very difficult to believe that...Then I read Psalm 23 constantly. I realized now the Lord's master plan for me was in the workings. He was completely in control of it, although as humans we still try to control things. How foolish can we be?"

For a reference, here is Psalm 23:

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, 3 he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. 

What Father Means...

April 5th, 2013.

To many people, today is just another day. To some, today is a day to celebrate birthdays. For others it may be a wedding anniversary. For 3 children and one mother....it is a day to look back and remember a great man. A father. A husband. A brother. A Son.

Many people know that I have a horrible memory. I'm not sure if this has been a problem of mine for my entire life...I don't remember. But for as long as I live, I will remember April 5th, 1993. That being said, today I felt selfish, losing track of what is important. I forgot what happened April 5th. I went through my entire day as if it was just another day. I got up, went to school, came up. Danielle and I had the opportunity to go look at houses...and it seemed like another day. Then I received a text from my mom that said

"Thinking of my family a lot today. Want to let you know how much your dad loved you and want you to always remember that."

Tears instantly came. How could I? 20 years ago, a loving mother lost her husband. I thought about what it would be like to lose my wife, and I think tonight was the first time I have had a different perspective on my dad passing away. But then I got to thinking, and I realized that my perspective has changed a lot since 20 years ago, when an event that changed the course of my life happened.

I started 20 years ago like I started today, as if nothing wrong could happen. Went to school and then came home to play with my brother and a friend outside. My dad was home, and I'm sure we talked...but I don't know what about. Damn you memory! All I remember is what happened later. Having to call 911. Having to call my mom at work. For the lack of sharing all of the details...God felt it was time to call my dad home. Maybe it was time for him to be done on earth with the joking, pranking, and loving. Maybe it was time for heaven to have one more comic. I'm not sure why, but it was time. My day started like any other day on April 5, 1993....but ended like no other day.

So how is my perspective different this year? Now that I think about it...maybe it isn't. Maybe it is the same as last year, but I don't remember. But this year I see my father's death differently. I pray more for my mom. The yearning to be a father is gut wrenching. I feel my self crying to God with pleas to give me the opportunity to love on children like my father loved on me.
I reflect back on the fact that less than a year ago we thought that we were going to adopt a beautiful young boy. We knew his name. We held him. We fed him. We lost him. I have a sense of confusion and curiosity on God's plan for that young baby boy, less than a year old, who may NEVER know his father, or may never have somebody to call his father. I pray that he will have a father figure in his life who will love him and protect him. This year, my heart cries out for ALL of the young children who are fatherless, and don't have a loving mother in their lives who will sacrifice everything to make sure they have everything. Danielle and I start foster training on Tuesday, and I am speechless at the fact that there are men out there who have children and can't or don't own up to their responsibility to raise these children in a loving manner, teaching them to be loving and caring individuals who are accepting of people.
 I truly believe I am a patient person...but my patience is running thin in anticipation to be a father. I want to be a father. I want to make a different for children. I want to be able to console a child who is scared. I want to be there to congratulate and hug my daughter when she passes her first test. I want to go to the back yard and throw the ball around with my sons, talking to him about life. I want to teach my son how to treat a lady and I want to date my daughter so she knows what she should expect from a man.
But despite all of my angst and anger, despite my pleading with God to bless Danielle and I with children, I can also praise Him for the blessing of my mother. See, when I think of my dad's death, I usually think of how it hurt me. Of how I miss him. I think of when I would cry myself to sleep night after night...cursing God for taking him away from me. Now...I think of my mom. I don't even know how to start explaining the amount of respect and love I have for her. She has been the ultimate example of me of what it means to love unconditionally, and sacrifice selflessly. I think of the fact that despite how busy I was (as well as my brother and sister), she NEVER missed a concert. She came to my football games, even though she knew I had NO talent...because she was going to support me. She worked tirelessly to provide EVERYTHING for us. What really bothers me is that I didn't thank her for that...I felt entitled. I felt that is what I deserved, because I lost my father. She lost her husband. She lost her companion. She lost her partner in the war of parenting...yet she persevered and loved through it. She is my idol as much as my dad is.
So now what? My prayer is that I don't forget. I pray that I live my life in preparation for the opportunity to one day be called daddy. We don't know God's plan, but He knows our desires. I do remember that when I was a kid and somebody asked me what I want to be, I would simply respond "I want to be a dad." To me, that IS the most important job in the world. I hope that from this day on, my decisions help to grow me as a Christian man who is equipping himself to be a father. I want to be a man who is a role model for my children...starting with my faith. I hope that others can learn from my experiences as well. Most importantly, I hope that remember my dad and what I have learned from him and through the experiences of reflecting on his life will consistently drive my motivation.
For those of you who knew my dad....I encourage you to simply sit back and reflect on what he taught you. For those of you who never had the blessing to meet my dad...I am sorry. He was loving. He was a prankster. Yes, he was a sinner and had his faults. Most importantly, he was a child of God. Knowing this provides me with the greatest hope and peace, because I know that one day I will see my dad in the beauty and perfectness of heaven. That is a day that I am looking forward to!

My dad and I while in Houston, TX (where he had his heart transplant)

(I apologize for the quality...this is a picture of a picture)

Ogallala

Yesterday Danielle as I rolled into Ogallala. We had been planning a trip to Ogallala for a while now, but unfortunate circumstances ensured we came back this weekend. Although we have been back less than 24 hours, it has been an emotional time. We have had the complete and absolute joy to have spent quality time with our food friends the Josjor's. we had the privilege to join hundreds of others in celebration of Emma's life. I had the opportunity to comfort and be there for many of my old students. What I have realized in the past
24 hours is that I miss community. I am excited for all of this to happen in Omaha!

Meeting disappointment head on

As I prepare to go to bed, it hits me that tomorrow will be the first time the students of Ogallala High School will be together since the tragic loss of Emma. Although she graduated two years ago, many students know her through her brother. For those of you who have been involved in the fine arts, you know that there is a strong community feel, and Emma was part of my choral family back in Ogallala. Many members of the choirs sang next to Emma, many shared the stage with her in productions of "Once On This Island" and "Seussical."

Earlier today I had the opportunity to chat with the choir director at Ogallala, and I don't envy him at all. "What do I do? How should I approach the situation" were just a few of the questions he had for me. I don't feel like I had a good answer for him.  The best answer I could come up with is an answer that some educators may not agree with, but I told him "Ask the kids. They will be honest." I think as educators it is important for us to show this vulnerability. To admit that we don't have the answers. To show raw emotion. Regardless of how Mr. Work handles tomorrow...it will be hard!

As I begin my spring break tomorrow, my heart will be heavy thinking about my "family" in Ogallala. My prayer is that God will shower them with understanding and wisdom. Although it is hard to think of, we must celebrate what Emma has taught us....as that is what she would want. Reading about Emma the past few days, a recurring topic comes up...and that is her smile. My prayer is that we can reflect back on Emma with a smile. I also pray for Emma's family as they prepare for her funeral, and continue to reflect on the past few days. I ask that those of you who are of the praying type...join me! Lift up prayers of praise and prayers of understanding. Ultimately, Emma will want us to turn to God and praise him and glorify Him through this experience as well!

Continued Reflections

Not sure how to start this posts...so I'm just going to type. I apologize in advance if it jumps around, but I need to get my thoughts out. 

This morning as I was driving Danielle to Lincoln for a half marathon she was running, I received a facebook message from an Ogallala student who graduated two years ago. Wynston told me that he had lost my phone number, but needed to urgently get a hold of me. I replied back with my number and he called me IMMEDIATELY! The minute he called, I had a knot in my gut, and concern crept in. Long story short, he was calling to let me know that a classmate of his, Emma, was killed in a car wreck late last night. At the time he called me, very few people knew about the accident, but Wynston wanted me to hear it from somebody rather than through facebook. What a great kid to be that thoughtful in such a tough time. After getting off the phone, I told Danielle the news, only to have to send her off to run her "enjoyable" and "warm" 13.1 miles. This gave me plenty of times to reflect back on my time teaching Emma.

I can't even begin to explain Emma. Honestly....all I can see is her GIANT smile. I had Emma in choir for her 10-12 grade years, and she was always bubbly and chipper. During my time at Ogallala, I made it a point to constantly greet the students at the door to my classroom, and they were expected to give me a hi-five, handshake, or hug. There were days that I DIDN'T want to do this, either because the previous class did not go well or I simply didn't feel well. Even on the days I slacked in my greeting, Emma would NOT. She constantly greeted me with a smile, making sure to tell me good morning or good afternoon.

Not only did I have the pleasure of teaching Emma in choir, she was one student who I saw a lot of outside of the classroom. Both in church activities and involvement with our school musicals, I was blessed to be around such a beautiful, warm hearted young lady a lot. Emma was such a pleasure to work with in the musical because we could always count on her to be positive. Even amidst chaos and stress, I could look up from the pit and there Emma would be, simply standing there and smiling. 

When I asked Emma what she planned on doing after high school, I could only hope for one answer...elementary education. God had molded Emma to be a motivator and a person who provides hope to others. Although God called her home before she had the chance to teach children for a career, I truly believe that Emma has taught many already!

That being said, here are some things that I have learned from my time either with Emma or looking back with a full heart on the memories she has left:

1) Don't underestimate the power of one. Emma has the ability to change your attitude by simply walking in the room. It is amazing what a smile can do to a cold heart!

2) If you are a student reading this blog, or anybody who would be considered "young": you have the ability to affect others. Too many times I hear kids say that they are just kids. Even if Emma didn't intend to be a changing factor, the life she lived did and will.

3) This experience has reminded me how much I love my students, and how much I want to see them succeed. Although at times I may be perceived as a grumpy bald man...I want NOTHING MORE than for my students to find success and be safe!

4) I have the best job in the world. How many people can go to their job EVERY DAY to have their bucket filled to the brim. I get to see the future on a daily basis grow. I get to experience youth making mistakes and stupid decisions, only to experience victories and breakthroughs the next day...all while giving them the opportunity to see that in me.

5) Life is about relationships. Period!

6) Don't take people for granted. Let those in your life who you appreciate know it. Write a note, send a text, give a hug. It doesn't have to be big...but it has to be done.

Below is a video from Emma's senior year at Ogallala High School. Although the recording quality is not great, I know it will bring many great memories back for those who were there. This was a special group for myself, and I know that Emma helped to make this group that the best it could be. In memory:

The call...

This morning I received a phone call that I knew was inevitable in my teaching career. Today I was faced with the news of the death of one of my past students. Those who aren't teachers will never fully understand what this feels like. Those who aren't music teachers (possibly having the same student consecutive years) can't comprehend the experience either. Honestly, I don't know what else to say. I've typed the students name numerous times, only to delete it because it stirs up so many emotions! Once I have some time to reflect and compose myself I will share more. Pleas be praying for friends and family!