Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world

People Are Strange — July 2, 2024

People Are Strange

There’s a documentary on Max, called How To Create A Sex Scandal, detailing a horrific story about child sexual abuse in Texas. A foster family brought in 3 kids, whose parents were facing a list of drug charges, and the kids had, after being trained at a “sex kindergarten,” been forced to “work” as strippers and sex workers at a local swingers club. It was absolutely sickening, and the perpetrators were tried and given life sentences.

Except none of it was true. Well, the foster mom still stands by her accusations, so this is probably a case where we should say “alleged” liars, “alleged” mean-spirited cash grab, “alleged” shenanigans in an “alleged” dirty, filthy courtroom. The convictions were sort of turned over – they were released with scarlet letters for child sexual abuse felonies. Their children were all taken from them. Not just the 3 initially involved that the foster home “allegedly” manipulated, but all of the others children, as well. All convictions but 1, a man who died in prison before the wheels of justice could turn for him.

The last words of the series were from one of the accused, who said (something like), “I don’t trust anyone, and I learned that people are mean.”

Is that true? Are we mean? Jim Morrison wrote, “people are strange,” (which is a pretty decent Doors song, not just wildly overrated, like most Doors songs…and the Doors overall). Some of these faces looked very ugly in this doc, and I am very happy to say the Lizard King was 100% right, we are strange, but am I willing to say we’re mean? Some of us are, of course, and all of us can be sometimes, but is that enough for such a sweeping generalization?

These foster parents certainly were, allegedly. In Men In Black, Tommy Lee Jones’ character says, “a person is smart, people are dumb,” and I found that pretty profound (especially in the middle of an embarrassing presidential election season.) So, I think I’m happy to use that framework in this case. A person is mean, people are alright. Strange, but alright. Not always, probably, but a person isn’t always smart, either.

I don’t blame this woman, she’s had her whole life destroyed because of the nastiness of 2 foster parents and an allegedly crooked judicial system. To her, people are awfully mean. But just because the sky might look red behind red lenses, it doesn’t mean the sky IS red. She’s right, she sees a red sky, and in most cases, perception is reality. At least, practically, it is.

But by a very large majority, I believe that people are strange, well-meaning and awesome. That’s why stories like this are so shocking. We are knocked down by the depths some folks can sink, allegedly, because it’s so far outside of the reality we experience every day. 2 monsters aren’t representative of the foster parent population, are they? And some mess in Texas doesn’t indict us all, either, right?

Right?

What Happened? — June 26, 2024

What Happened?

Brittany Murphy was a super talented actress who died at 32, in circumstances that were cloudy and subject to a bunch of suspicious guesses as to ‘what really happened.’ The documentary on Max is awfully sad, and after 2 hours, the circumstances aren’t so much cloudy as they are unimaginable. A 32 year old woman shouldn’t just die of pneumonia in her bathroom with her mother and husband in the next room. And the husband shouldn’t then die months later of the same cause. But it did happen, so now what?

The husband, Simon, was (by most of these accounts) not a terrific person. He had the gift of overwhelming charisma, and when that was combined with a lack of character and/or morality, he became a very dangerous influence. It’s hard to know what was true, because he so rarely was honest. He had 2 children that some of those purported to be closest to him found out only in this documentary. He was ridiculously controlling, isolating both Brittany and her mother, Sharon, making all decisions on all matters, big & small, personally & professionally. Probably, if Brittany Murphy was married to a different person, she would be alive today, but she wasn’t. She was married to this one.

I loved Brittany Murphy in all of the films I saw (of course, nobody saw all of her films, her later work was far beneath her talent). I found her electric and engaging. As we all saw her wasting away in front of us, a victim of anorexia and drugs and whatever else contributes to a woman’s public disappearance, we mourned well before the news reports. The story starts as an uplifting, hopeful comedy, but is quickly revealed as tragedy, and that’s just the worst – not because she’s a celebrity, or because we loved her, but because she was a human being in a world that wholly consumed her.

So, what really happened?

I’m thinking how we all have our self-destructive impulses. Drugs aren’t mine, and neither is anorexia, but maybe they’re yours. No matter, we have buttons of insecurities and inadequacies. We have fears and voices in our heads that whisper some of the nastiest things anyone has ever heard. We aren’t celebrities whose every choice and picture is eviscerated by armies of Perez Hilton’s, but if we were, maybe we’d live in a filthy apartment and swallow handfuls of pills and not go to the Dr. Or maybe it would be something else. Maybe we’d drink bottles of wine all day. Or eat m&m’s on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through TikToks. Or run for miles and miles, never escaping the pain & pressure of staying alive, never dodging the arrows. I think it’s mostly the height of arrogance to think Brittany Murphy is so different from us. Maybe we had relationships that were unhealthy, where we changed so much we didn’t recognize ourselves. Maybe we’d go a little crazy, too, lonely & small without a community of people to love us in real life (instead of on screen). Maybe it’s just by the grace of God that we are here and she’s not.

What happened is heartbreaking, but not so strange. What now, then?

Kathy Najimi said, through tears, that she wished she’d have gone over there and pulled her out, called the police. Even if Brittany Murphy hated her afterwards. And Kathy Najimi is right. We all wish she did, too. But we all figure we wouldn’t have, either. Maybe minding our own business, pretending everybody is so divided, isn’t the answer. Maybe it never was. Maybe we should start to know our neighbor’s names and stories, to laugh with the comedies, and call the police in the tragedies. Maybe we can reach out, and maybe we can show up. Maybe it’s a cliché, but loving each other might be the answer. Maybe not, too, but it’s worth a shot. We’ve tried the others for way too damn long and they haven’t worked, even a little bit. Maybe it’s time for a revolution.

Significant Week: Youth Sports, pt ? — June 24, 2024

Significant Week: Youth Sports, pt ?

Today’s site prompt is: How important is spirituality to you? And I think that’s funny, because spirituality is the glue that holds any- and everything together, gives meaning to routine, significance to each moment, weight to all of our relationships. How important? The question doesn’t make sense because nothing exists without spirit, it’s like asking, how important is breathing to your workouts? There isn’t a workout without breath, there isn’t an us without the spiritual element (whether we acknowledge it or not).

But that isn’t why I’m writing, it was just an interesting prompt. So interesting, in fact, that maybe I’ll nose around and see how others answer.

I’m writing because this is a fairly significant week for me. Decisions have been made (I think) and these particular decisions will lead to many more. I have coached youth sports for 10+ years, in different fashions. I’ve been an assistant and the head coach, baseball, basketball, and soccer (even though I really hate soccer). Mostly, this was out of necessity, 8 year-olds need parents to volunteer, whether they know/understand the game or not. Then, I stuck to baseball, because I have been a ballplayer. Which was pretty great, we won lots and lots of games, and lost lots and lots of games. This year is the first one where the team I’m coaching doesn’t include either of my sons. That’s sort of unusual, and if I’m honest, I don’t even like baseball too much anymore. But I like the boys I coach, I’m invested in their lives, and I know that I’ll create a safe environment where others might not.

The season began and I thought it would be the last, because leaving my family to go to the field was nearly impossible. But then the kids were great and I changed my mind and this was where I belong, in ministry with bats and baseballs. Then no way, then of course, then then then, changing with the wind. The kids were always great.

If I were to leave, then what? Without this particular ministry, where would my ministry be? What exactly would I do with this time? And what about the program we’ve built? Or the league? Who knows? But is it my responsibility to answer that question, should I be one who knows?

There have been many, many moments and experiences, faces and families, lesson after lesson on being and becoming the human beings they will be, who we will all be. And when I think of those things, I am overwhelmed, honored, grateful, and sad, in equal parts. I have been so blessed to receive the gift of being able to do this, and I will choose to do it no longer. In any small way I have made an impact, the people I’ve done it with, and for, have impacted me to an exponentially greater degree. I’m a very different person than I was 10 years ago.

As far as those questions, I don’t know. But I will. Some of those questions aren’t mine to answer, no matter how loud the should’s and supposed to’s and what if’s and but’s scream. The ones that are are exciting and wide open. I wonder.

This weekend will be the last games for us, and for me. That feels fine, I don’t mind complex, complicated situations that require many more than 2 hands to hold. Of course, there will be loss – all change is loss, after all – that has to be mourned and reconciled and integrated. And it will be. I’ll keep growing, I’ll continue to be a very different person that I was, than I am.

But that’ll be later. Today, we have a ballgame.

My Favorite Thing — June 17, 2024

My Favorite Thing

The site is asking a fun question, “What is my favorite thing about myself?” Now, this is a space we don’t often like to explore, either because we can’t see the great in us, or because we can, but don’t want to seem arrogant or boastful.

Humility isn’t thinking less of ourselves, like one of those negative voices in our heads that lie like rugs and tell us we’re not enough, that we’re worthless. Humility is an accurate picture of ourselves, that’s all. It’s seeing, acknowledging the beauty in us, as well as the not so beautiful parts. It is knowing who we are, honestly, with all that entails.

I have believed those voices for many of my years, only relatively recently have I allowed some new programming in to recalibrate my self-image. And, baby, that’s a nice, new development.

I love how much I love music, how art touches me in the deepest reaches of my soul. I love that my heart responds in the way it does to Morrissey. Not everyone’s does; those people are wrong, and I’m sad for them. I love the color of my eyes, and the shape of my head (to make my shaved bald dome not look so odd.) I can catch and throw baseballs easily.

I wonder if tomorrow’s site prompt will be the things we like least about ourselves? I could/would answer that, too.

But my favorite thing about me is… Well, there are 2. First, you know that friend who is enthusiastic about everything? This ride, this movie, this song, this moment is his/her favorite EVER. That’s me. I’m like a golden retriever. I’m pretty present. I leave my phone in the car so that you are the only one on earth for me right now. I get excited for new releases, lose sleep over your wedding, because these are the moments of my life (our lives) and they are real and awesome. Built into this is immense, overwhelming gratitude.

And the second is how sensitive & empathetic I am. I feel everything (for me and for you) soooo deeply.

Of course, as it usually works, the best thing is also the worst thing. I do have to be careful of being what’s called a ‘prisoner of the moment.’ I am an “always” and “never” person, because this is happening now, which means it’s the only thing happening.

AND, my soft mushy heart makes my life significantly harder and infinitely more painful. It’s wonderful, and it’s horrible.

But these things are me, how I was created, the gifts I’ve been given, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Luxury Living — June 10, 2024

Luxury Living

The site wants to know what luxury I can’t live without. The definition of luxury is “the condition of abundance,’ so I suppose that’s The Angel. She is a walking, talking, smooching illustration of the abundant blessings that have rained on my life. The definition also says, “…that isn’t necessary,” but she is, right? Not everyone is married to The Angel, just me, and lots of people live wonderful lives without her. Maybe they have their own The Angel, and that’s probably their luxury, whether it’s a job or car (though I certainly hope it’s not), or a Sally or Kristen or Helen. We all hopefully have our own Angel.

In my marriage book, Be Very Careful Who You Marry, I talk about an Angel Paradigm. The idea is that I love marriage – the idea of, as well as the actual manifestation – but is that because I have The Angel and, of course, anyone who is married to The Angel would love it?

Well, yes and no. The anyone who is married to The Angel is me, and I didn’t have such a high opinion before her, when I was avoiding any hint of marriage as a reality. So, yes. But no, because nobody else has this particular Angel. But everybody has the opportunity to have their own, and work like crazy to build their relationship in a beautiful way (like we did.) So, no with an asterisk.

Of course, it’s a little dangerous to write in such a way about a great anything. JLo and Ben Affleck told everyone who would listen about their great, persevering Love. And, according to celebrity gossip, after a little over a year, that great Love isn’t persevering the way it once did. If you gave a lecture on how to be a rad salesperson, and then 2 weeks later were shown the door, how would that lecture sound in hindsight? Or if you wrote a marriage book called, say, Be Very Careful Who You Marry and then a thousand posts on abundant blessing in marriage…then, that spouse got wise to the undeniable fact that she married down and took off, then what? The man who wrote those many things might not feel so terrific about them.

But, so what? There’s nothing embarrassing or shameful about a failure. I watched this silly documentary about a trek across the Amazon, called Expedition From Hell, that purported to be the account of a maniac who led regular people on a walking tour across the big part of South America. About halfway, he was arrested and contracted dengue fever, and took a secret solo pathway (without cameras) to avoid the authorities. He, then, reappeared in Guyana for the final leg (with cameras). So, he did it, and loudly proclaimed his success. As it turned out, he lied his buns off and the secret solo pathway was a flight back to Florida for a few months before flying back to Guyana. When the producers confronted him, he continued to dig his feet into the deception.

A guy that the lying wildman earlier kicked off the tour said (something like), “So what? It doesn’t make him a failure. He tried something awesome and that’s never a failure.” And he’s totally right. JLo, Batman, The Angel & I are trying something awesome, and that something is hard and doesn’t always work out. (Maybe it could, but that’s not what we’re talking about today.) Our luxury is love and, on second thought, it IS absolutely necessary. We take our gear into some treacherous terrain, commit 100%, see if we can survive, together, and if we happen to make it, we know what abundant blessing it all is.

Why I Hate Politics — May 31, 2024

Why I Hate Politics

I don’t actually hate politics. Politics is simply the way we organize ourselves, how we enact & legislate rules of law, how we govern ourselves. There isn’t anything distasteful about that at all. In fact, it’s a beautiful responsibility/opportunity to build a free society. But it’s a little like socialism. Socialism is the distribution to each according to their needs, everyone gets enough, which sounds like the Biblical Church. We take care of each other, right?

The breakdown, in socialism as well as in a democratic government (or, more accurately, a republic) or any other political system or organization, is the people in that system: the politicians.

First, as you know, I am not a political scientist, or a social studies teacher. I have business & ministry degrees. But I am interested in people, generally believing in our inherent goodness. My solutions are dreams, and I usually keep them to myself. But a seismic event occurred yesterday that I do feel compelled to offer my skewed commentary.

I am part of a generation that has never trusted our government. We were too late for Camelot or the faith in an elected official to fix anything. We were raised to Rage Against The Machine – all machines, especially in Washington D.C. We saw our government arm enemies of enemies (using the woefully misguided philosophy: the enemy of my enemy is my friend), then lied about every bit of it under oath as those ‘friends’ traded places and became the new enemies. Nations & people get very rich in a machines of war. We didn’t believe when we read lips that promised “no new taxes,” so we were never surprised.

When President Clinton was involved in, um, extramarital activities, as he was his entire life, we didn’t care. But when an intern’s dress became public record, we pretended to care. Ok, we didn’t, but the opposing political party sure did. To them, character became the most important requirement in a politician. We immediately knew that was bullshit. Clinton’s party defended him by minimizing marital integrity. What does that matter in running a country? We knew that was bullshit, too.

I’m using Clinton & Trump as examples, not because there is a limited number of illustrations I could make, but because it’s so obvious. This is the normal violent dance of politics. Each side flips to suit their interest right now, and respects the citizenry (you & me) so little that they flip right back when the names and the now changes.

Donald Trump is at least as much as a womanizing heel as Clinton, caught on tape demeaning and sexualizing any and all women. He is now a felon, convicted of paying to quiet a porn star with whom he had sexual relations. This won’t hurt his campaign in the least, and if you think it will, I don’t know what to tell you other than I admire your sweet naïveté.

The parties play musical chairs, to switch sides, and the donkeys hide their faces and act appalled at his lack of character, and the elephants don’t even try to manufacture any conscience. We don’t believe any of them. Can we elect a person who is in prison? WIll he pardon himself? Who cares? It’s just the next act in the circus.

Yesterday I wrote about authenticity, and that’s what I meant when I totaled this essay “Why I Hate Politics.” There’s none here, they’re all such bad actors. My dream is that we wake up to the disdain these people have for us, how little they think of us, and begin again. Clear the board.

They lie because they think we are as crooked and dumb as they are. So far they’ve been right, but that can change anytime we decide to stop settling for so much less than we deserve. We are absolutely not slimy and we’re undoubtedly not ignorant. It seems to me that we can start to let them know we’ll stop playing down to their expectations. I don’t know why we started to accept this sort of behavior, but we don’t have to anymore. We can have a revolution of the mind and soul. And we can do this today, and forever after.

You & I — May 30, 2024

You & I

The site is asking me what quality I value most in a friend. I know what I value most in myself, and I’m thinking that there is probably quite a bit of overlap in the 2 lists.

Authenticity. Without a certain degree of honesty, relationship is mostly impossible, isn’t it? If you and I are talking with masks on, creating pretend narratives from behind carefully curated images…who is actually talking? Who am I? Who are you? Does it matter, at that point? If we’re only relating from behind halloween costumes, neither of us care too much. Friends trust each other, and trust is totally impossible without honesty/authenticity. Why would you ever open up in a vulnerable way while I stay safely behind walls of disguise? Right, you wouldn’t. What’s the point? Batman & Robin aren’t real-life friends (or whatever they are), they’re fictional characters, which is what we are when we live dishonest lives.

I have many more values for myself: consistency, reliability, faithfulness, loyalty. I think it’s important that I show up and give you what I have to give. I think I should be open, forgiving, non-judgmental, safe. But maybe those things don’t matter so much in friends.

Let’s say you are always late. I’ve had plenty of good friends I can’t rely on to show up on time (sometimes not showing up at all). But when they do, they are real and wonderful. I just tell them things start 30 minutes before they do. Some are pretty judgy, some of the same ones are awfully opinionated and not too safe with conflicting viewpoints (they’re very “tolerant”). That’s ok, I call it ‘principled,’ and argue with them anyway. They’re the only ones that get mad, I don’t mind at all. But outside of the “tolerant” lie, they are terrific in a million other ways.

They just don’t value the same things I do. And a lot of what I value requires that I accept that, and them, exactly the way they are. (This is why I struggle to set boundaries, and why it takes me so so so long to set them.) Maybe my first statement wasn’t right at all. There isn’t much overlap at all, just one: authenticity.

(But that’s 100% on your side – so that’s full overlap – but only, say, 5% of mine. That’s an interesting commentary on perspective, there is surely a wider application for that to be discussed.)

Ok, I’m starting to lose focus. My answer to the prompt is: Authenticity. I value real, messy, beautiful people.

23 — May 29, 2024

23

Last time, we talked about “having it all” or living a “best life.” This week was my 23rd wedding anniversary, so maybe I should have mentioned that.

I’m a simple man, and that’s a very good thing, because my life and ministry is primarily to climb into complicated, chaotic situations. Work, for me, is connection/relationships and doing the best I can to bring peace and hope into anxious, hopeless, sometimes wildly unstable spaces. This is work, but the thing about having identical personal & vocational missions is there’s no division between on and off. I don’t really have days off. But I don’t want them, either. To me, this is purpose, and it’s heavy and keeps me up lots of nights, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

However, the truth is, I couldn’t do it at all if my home & marriage wasn’t a place of physical, emotional, spiritual rest. It’s very difficult to step into the drama of others when your life is dramatic. There’s simply not enough left to fully engage with the storms others are facing when we’re exhausted with our own raging storms. If I’m being punched in the face, it’s harder to notice your fight, much less come to your aid.

This brings me to the Angel. She’s calm and easy. It’s 23 years but sometimes feels like 100, but, at other times, feels like I met her yesterday. I don’t know what 23 years feels like, or should feel like, but what I know is that I am completely, totally open with her (as the Bible says, “naked and unashamed”), but I also get butterflies when I kiss her, just like the first time.

I told her last night, that I very often focus (at least out loud) on the ‘lover’ aspect of our relationship. I very often tell her how foxy she is, and how 23 years of marriage has done nothing to dull my attraction to her. So, on a public pie chart, that’s the biggest piece. But on the pie chart of my heart, it’s probably a smaller piece than the rest. She’s my best friend, my partner, an inspiration and model for living a life of faith. She gives strength by simply being who she is in a world that isn’t always kind to the beautiful ones. Kind, merciful, the best mother to her sons and mentor to the rest of the people lucky enough to be in her orbit. She’s creative and confident, capable, talented, driven, brilliant, gifted hand over fist by her Creator. Did I mention knock-down gorgeous? How staggering is it that when thinking/speaking about the best looking woman in the world, her looks aren’t anywhere close to the best thing about her? We’ve built a calm life from the ground up, so that we can walk anywhere, enter into any circumstance, because this soft, loving home is waiting to refill all we’ve lost outside.

We make choices, right? The best choices feel easy & obvious in retrospect, but upon further inspection, require days and years of building. The path to our particular marriage and home is marked with uncomfortability and perseverance (only Heaven knows how many arguments and sleepless nights this path has contained, so far), where it might have been easier to check out (in whatever form “checking out” takes) than to keep building. “Having it all” certainly isn’t easy, and it has lots and lots of exit ramps, but those obstacles don’t make it less of a blessing. Maybe they make it more. More significant, more valuable, more our own.

I have no idea why she’d marry someone like me, but that’s her problem, not mine. My responsibility in all of this is to remain grateful, with wide open eyes to this amazing life I’ve been given.

The Best All — May 25, 2024

The Best All

Today, the blog website is asking, “What does ‘having it all’ mean to you? Is it attainable?” I can’t say that I’ve ever considered this, even as the phrase “have it all” has been used in songs and advertising campaigns pretty much forever. It reminds me of that other mindless, subjective cliche, “live your best life.” What is this best life? Doesn’t that sound like having it all?

So. What is this all?’ Is it money? How much is enough? Does anyone actually have enough? I heard a statistic once that, when people were asked how much money they needed to be comfortable, everyone, regardless of income, answered 10% more. Greed (or the lust for more) is a wild contrast with the process of transformation (or the desire for growth.) Success? What is that? Is it a great job? Is a great job one you love or one that pays very well? Great is awfully subjective, too. Is ‘all’ marriage, children, pets?

Marriage and children is fairly controversial now, I guess, but pets aren’t. Do I need a pet to have it all? And will a fish do? Or a guinea pig? A nice car? Hot tub? White picket fence? Perfect white teeth and washboard abs? Do other people have to envy me? Does this have anything to do with anyone else? Is this concept of all, or best life, universal? Or is it as individual as we are?

What about spirituality or education? Or mental & physical health? Is it as simple as having out needs met? But in this country, do we even know what we need? Or is it a matter of want? Or have we completely conflated the two? Is there a practical difference? Significance, meaning, purpose, connection…do these things matter?

If these prompts are designed to spur thought or conversation, this is a fantastic success. I suppose everyone’s answer is unique, but what probably isn’t is a sense of gratitude & contentment. It doesn’t really matter what the what is, it’s how we hold it. If we wrestle our lives and aspirations, squeezing them into submission, as we continue to climb higher and higher, desperately looking for the next rung, or mile-marker, nothing is (or will ever be) all. But if it’s what we have, here and now, and we can hold what we have been given with soft careful hands for as long as we have them, those things become treasures that are absolutely priceless. We become the kind of people who fall in love with all of this beauty, and that sounds exactly like a best life, if you ask me.

Donkeys — May 24, 2024

Donkeys

Who would I like to talk to soon? That’s the prompt today, and the answer is you. I made a decision, perhaps tentatively and surely doomed to fail, to write every day as form of gratitude and evangelism (not the crazy tv preacher/political posturing type, but the type that is telling others something awesome, like a new album or documentary or why there’s meaning, purpose, and joy in my life.) Then, this week, I haven’t written at all. This New Leaf lasted 3 days.

I have been busy this week, lots of appointments, meetings, youth sports, work, yesterday I spent in the Philadelphia Phillies stadium watching them beat the Texas Rangers with a very good friend. So, I could have cut all of those things short, or excised them altogether. And in my free time, I could have either answered the prompt or given my absolute attention (and smooches) to the Angel. I chose to not write.

I think that was a good decision.

Sometimes there are a million good things, and we choose based on our values and how we’ve assigned weight in our lives. There’s a story in the Bible about rescuing donkeys on the Sabbath. You can either obey the law and not work on the Sabbath. That’s a good thing, a right answer. Or you can rescue the donkey that’s fallen into a hole. That’s also a good thing. Now what?

Almost always, I’ll choose the donkey over rules and ritual. Maybe you wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t be wrong. That would simply be what weighs more to you. So, what and who are my donkeys? I chose the Angel, my sons, friends, family, cutting my mom’s grass, prayer, the baseball team, and working out, and I’m not too sorry about that. The thing about weight is, it’s actually a choice of presence and opportunity over obligation and distraction.

However, before I leave this house and this computer to meet a friend, before a Zoom meeting about a wedding, before I go to work, then a ballgame, the most important thing is this. Is here, now. Is you. You’re my donkey. And I’m not sorry about that, either.