Nay, we are but men. Rock!

My apologies for the length of this one but I think it is a fun story.

This past Monday I had a rare day off for this time of year.  In fact it was my first non-workday since July 25th.  This includes weekends.  Since we had such a rare gem we decided to pack up the minivan and head out for a relaxing few days of camping.  Now both my wife and I have spent a fairly significant amount of time in the wilderness in our lives but for some reason we just haven’t been able to get the whole pull-into-a-campsite-with-everything-you-would-have-at-home-and-call-it-camping thing down. Something always happens that makes it seem like we have never actually been outside let alone gone camping.

The weekend’s activities started out pretty encouragingly.  My oldest son had his first ever soccer game on Saturday so we stuck around to be able to do the whole soccer family thing and then we would camp Saturday and Sunday nights.  It was awesome.  I’m not going to say that kid was the best 3-year-old out there, because some people who might read this blog also had kids playing, but he was one of the most enthusiastic.  It was a good indication of how he will be when he graduates to playing a higher level of athletic contest, football.

After the “game” was over we headed back to the house and threw our living room in the back of our van.  We drove to my parents’ house about 30 minutes away in order to get their propane grill, beer, and mattresses from their RV.  That’s right mattresses.  Then it was off to Beverly Beach on the Oregon coast.

When we got to the campsite we realized two things.  Thing the first: we didn’t bring the propane tanks for the grill.  No big deal my wife and I are relatively proficient at fire starting.  Thing the second: we brought the wrong tent and one of us is going to have to sleep in the back of the van each night.  Other than that things were going swimmingly.  Things continued to be pleasant until my oldest son started getting abdominal cramps.  The kid developed a case of Beverly Beach’s Revenge that would make that guy in Alien who had the little creepy jump out of his ribcage cringe.  I know my son was in pain because I have amazing powers of deduction.  So when he started yelling, “Papa my belly hurts!!! It hurts!!!  Make it stop!!! I need to poop!!!”  I knew something was amiss.  We spent a good amount of time on the potty that evening and into the morning.  I think I am going to take him to the tattoo parlor tomorrow and have WARNING CONTENTS UNDER EXTREME PRESSURE tattooed onto his abdomen.  Seriously I think he actually lifted off the seat a few inches one time.  It was bad.

This probably would have been enough to make us come home the next day but to make matters even more surreal I forgot one major rule when going to the Oregon coast.  IT IS FREAKING FREEZING AT NIGHT!!  We didn’t bring sleeping bags because our kids are not to the point where they do them well.  So we brought blankets.  With my wife in the van I was sleeping beside my boys and they were fine because they had the blanket all three of us were using as well as an expedition weight fleece blanket.  Unfortunately it was not big enough for me as well.

Around 4:00am I scared the bejeezus out of my wife by opening the back hatch of our van and crawling in with her.  I’m sure she thought I was some sort of intruder but I thought she was the absolute best source of warmth I could find and with the kids in the tent…  

The next morning we played around for a while and then packed up and went back to my parents’ house where my oldest and I set up the tent in the back yard.  We made Smores over the fire pit.  I was able to watch the Broncos beat the Chargers.  But best of all I feel like I reconnected and reintroduced myself to my family.  Yeah for camping.

I am happy–immensely happy, but at the same time, tragically, deeply anguished.  The perpetuation of my emotional dichotomy stems from the fact that my wife and I just found out that we were going to have another child.  That, in and of iteself, is mostly the source of my unbound joy; however, we also found out that we are not going to be the ones to raise our little one–that honor, in all its joy, belongs to Jesus.

You see, our little one was brought home from this world earlier than I ever could have imagined; I never would have thought that I could feel a part of me so barren, but so alive.  Not alive and blossoming with vivacity; rather, alive in the sense you get when you have a sudden, deep injury.  That part of me is rubbed so raw, bleeding, but feels so alive because of it.

I mourn the loss of my child, but how awesome would it be to be raised by God Himself? I mean, my dad was great, but he kinda pales in comparison.  Let’s see….a wooden house….or golden streets?  Which would you rather see every day? : )

Though it pains me that I will never be able to hold this baby, snuggle it in bed, sing it to sleep, and watch it grow, laugh, learn, and love, I do feel grateful knowing that my child is in the best of hands, and will be waiting there for me, welcoming me into the arms of the Father, who has raised my baby in His glorious perfection.

I am dying inside–but I rejoice in the Lord and all He has provided.

–Aaron

I know my last post was a little off the beaten path for this blog so I decided to offer a little ditty that is more in line with what I normally put out there.  Last night I was giving my sons a bath.  II like doing bath time because they are to the point where they actually play together instead of just occupying the same general space.  This time of year is probably the busiest season I have and put on top of that all of my family issues I have very little energy.  So the boys were playing and I was staring off into space and focusing on absolutely nothing.  Then from off in the distance I hear my oldest son screaming, “Ahhhh!!!!! Ahhhh!!!!! Noo!!! Phineas no!!!!!”  I came out of my trance and looked over to the bathtub where I saw my youngest son pulling with a double-fisted vigor that said, “Now who’s in charge chump” on my oldest son’s penis.  My youngest was having the time of his life and laughing hysterically while my oldest was, needless to say, not.  He was flailing around like an uncoordinated stork doing the Macarena at top speed.  

I was stuck somewhere between complete levity due to the poetic justice of the situation and pure revulsion at how far a three-year-old’s penis can stretch.  I opted to take the humanitarian approach and release my oldest from the Hungarian penis torture that was my youngest son’s fists.  I really do think they love each other.

My life tends to follow a certain pattern.  I will have one or two major life questions that are at the forefront of my mind.  I will spend anywhere from three months to a year diving into whatever question is before me and then I will have a down period where I won’t really think of anything of more depth than the Broncos or comparing and contrasting all of the Die Hard movies.  

The issue that I have been wrestling with lately is where is God in the midst of suffering?  I have been thinking about this ever since I read a novel called The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell.  All throughout my life I have heard people talk about God’s will in regards to pain and brokenness.  I would hear one person say to someone who has lost a loved one, “It’s OK they are in a better place now.  Sometimes it is hard to know the why but it was his will.”  It’s true that the person who has died might be in a better place and it is hard to know the will of God but to say that God caused so-in-so to die because it was part of his will is not entirely accurate.  I have an extremely hard time thinking that the God of love, grace, mercy, redemption, and life causes death and heartache.  I think we cause all of the crap that is in the world and God works with it.  I think to say that God causes death is to rob him of his redemptive power.  I serve the God who defeated death, not brought it about.  I believe God can take the s**t in our lives and redeem it.  He takes what was never intended and brings it into himself, where it finds love.  When someone talks about the silver lining I hear God’s hand at work.  When someone verbalizes some joy that has come out of great suffering I hear a God that refuses to abandon us. 

No, I serve a God of redemption and a God that will always bring us close even through the worst circumstances not a puppeteer that forces death and brokenness onto his creation for his own amusement or to accomplish a greater good.  The greatest good was defeating death and mending brokenness.  My uncle committed suicide yesterday.  I am not sure where the redemption is going to come from but it will come.  I am waiting with my God for the silver lining.

The Olympics are many things to many people; the hard work, the blood, sweat, and tears—all of that cliche stuff.

Also, this?

Looks like they wanted to keep lots of people from going home with more than a medal. If they didn’t, I imagine they would have to open up the ‘gold’ express lane at the clinic.

I guess the Olympics is all about love. Hah!

What man does not like a quality sound system?  Everyone loves their 5.1, 7.1, and 10.2 as much as the next guy (i guess they even have 22.2 working models now), and especially love the hardware they entail.  The smell of the new wafers inside the glossy black (hopefully black–do any real men buy any other color?) housing…..aaah…   I love the sound of crisp tweeters, deep mids, and rumbling subs, seeing the bright little LEDs blinking back at me, waiting for my discretionary selection (Billy Ray Cyrus, of course).

Ah, the glory of gold-plated cables & terminals and multi-unit remotes!

Anyway, I don’t know how many of you have had systems in your cars (I once had an 800-watt system in my car, that was worth more than my car–ohhh I love you Kicker) and have enjoyed the mobility of premium sound, but I have a news flash for you.  Your tricked-out cars are obsolete.  I have, for you, (I know you are drooling at the thought) the NEXT generation of mobile audio.  You can thank me later.

Here it is

Oh, and Billy Ray Cyrus was totally a joke.  You did get that, right?  Remember, this is a Man blog.

It was really David Hasselhof

Tomorrow morning at 7:00am I will be leaving with roughly 10 college students for a week-long backpacking trip in the Sisters Wilderness Area in central Oregon.  I look forward to this trip every year and this time around is no exception.  There are no real wildfire threats this year and I have been lunging like there is no tomorrow.  It is time to see if the lunges are really going to pay off.  There are many last minute preparations left for me to do, not the least of which being to give myself a haircut and hope that the week allows it to grow in a little before rejoining society.  

I have a large and slightly misshapen cranium and when my hair is shaved I look like a fuzzy albino potato.  My wife is already on a camping trip with my sons so I can’t ask her to do it and if I leave my hair the length it is now I am pretty sure my brain will jump out of my ear in search for a cooler environment.  So off I go.  Wish me luck and maybe I will post pictures when I get back.

You know a superhero.

I am tired of how fast they drive/run/fly, the star treatment they get, and the lucrative endorsement deals–they are vigilantes, and not above the law! They need to be stopped! To further this cause, I have painstakingly uncovered the lay identities of the following superheroes, so we can ALL know who they are!

Here, for the world to see, are the identities uses to fight crime, protect the innocent, and lay around the house on Saturdays.

First to be revealed: MATT!

Happy Happy?

Secondly–JASON!

No, really, he's the..uh..other....Hulk

Thirdly, we have LUKE!

Next time bleach your pits too..

Next, ladies and gentlemen, we have BEN!

Hgrrgfmgnf!!!

Actually, this is BEN!

Heeeyyyyy---Duffman!

And finally, AARON!

Well, he’s probably someone’s hero

Every year as part of my job I lead a team of 10 college student leaders on a 7 day backpacking trip in the Sisters Wilderness in Oregon.  It is one of the best parts of my job description.  I really love the day to day work that I do with these leaders but to actually get to go into the back country for a week and get paid for it is pretty cool.  Our program has built into it 4 main elements used in the learning/development process: Solo, where they are on their own for about 24 hours, Leader of the Day, where two of the leaders are responsible for all of the decisions made for the day from traveling to setting up camp to meal schedule, Final Expedition, where the guide and I leave during the night and they are responsible for getting safely to the trailhead, and Summit, where, you guessed it, we give summating one of the Sisters a whirl.

All in all it is a pretty sweet deal.  I get to be part of breaking in some students who have never been in the wilderness before and be part of furthering their leadership skills on the whole.  What I don’t like about it is the masochistic training schedule our university’s strength and conditioning coach put together for us.  I swear this cat must be endorsed by the National Association for Lunging Lungers.  Every day has you doing 764 more lunges than the previous day.  I don’t know what’s worse, doing the lunges now or summating a 10,000ft mountain without doing them.  Personally I am leaning toward not doing them since it is only one day of the trip instead of every day leading up to it.  On the bright side though my tush now deserves to be cast in bronze and put in the Louvre. 

Last Friday, the 4th of July, after my half-marathon my wife got the call that her grandmother died.  We made arrangements and she flew from Portland to Pittsburgh that night on a red-eye.  The difference between this trip and the last time she flew out is that this time I have the boys.  There is one similarity between the trips however.  I get bored without my wife.  I know this may make me sound pathetic but she is the idea generator and I am the doer in our relationship.  Obviously there are times when I have ideas and she obviously does a lot but generally this is how it works.  I have no idea how to keep these two over-active pygmy marmosets entertained.

This evening I took the boys to get my wife’s birthday present, which is still 23 days away so I am ahead of the game by guy standards.  I went to a store at a local upscale mall because I had an idea on what I would like to get her, which I won’t disclose yet because sometimes she reads my posts.  I will however tell you that it is awesome.  On a scale from 1-10 of awesome birthday gifts with 1 being doughnuts and ten being a diamond ring it ranks at about Macho Man, who would obviously be 12.  When I got to the store I walked up to the display of Macho Man birthday gifts and froze.  I was completely overwhelmed.  I was so overwhelmed that when the sales associate asked me if I need any help I’m pretty sure what came out of my mouth was, “I need good… Can you tell me… I think I would like to mfmdphphph… Come on kids we’re leaving.”  

After we left Macho Man Inc we drove home but I still couldn’t think of anything to do with the boys, and they were strapped in, so we kept driving around the neighborhood.  After the third time circumnavigating the community, once I started getting strange looks from the neighbors like I was casing their houses, we went home and my oldest and I drew with sidewalk chalk while my youngest ate it.

I need help.  I need to know what to do with my kids in the evenings.  I need to know how to not get too overwhelmed when I make another attempt at birthday shopping tomorrow.  I need my wife to come home.