The Art of Presiding

I'm currently pondering on the state of the family, both in general and mine in particular. In attempting to lead a Christ-like life, I desire above all things to have a happy family. In attempting to do so, however, I have come upon some absolutely delicious ironies.

Mmmm...irony. It's what's for dinner.

Anyway, all of these ironies are centered around the duty (not privilege, not desire, not option) of a husband and a father to be a patriarch in his home.

What exactly does that entail? There, to coin a phrase, is the rub. From what I have studied and been taught, it has to do with presiding in righteousness over the home. There are many aspects to that, but I have always taken it to basically mean that the husband and wife, as companions, first work together to decide the best course of action for the family. Then the plan (in whatever scenario you please) is enacted and enforced by the father. Not because he's smarter, more righteous, or just because he feels like it, but because he must do it by divine decree.

Now, I know what many people might think about that. But I will point out that the wife's willing participation is crucial, because otherwise the man would not be presiding righteously but rather be a dictator, exercising unrighteous dominion, which is justly condemned by scripture. I have no desire to be a dictator and my wife certainly has no desire to be dictated to, as is only appropriate. My wife also believes in the patriarchal order, at least in theory. We are pretty equally yoked, so you'd think that we would scrape along fairly well, and usually we do.

But here comes the irony (yum!) My wife is a natural leader. She always tries to lead. And I am, by nature, perfectly content to let that happen. BUT I CAN'T! And there is where the conflict, perhaps inevitable, perhaps not, enters the situation. I don't particularly care who decides most things, so long as we discuss it first. I'm perfectly willing to let her do what she feels is best in 99% of the situations we face. She always feels so passionate about things and I just don't think it's worth arguing over most of the time. But that leaves two crucial caveats, which, if you are attentive, you have already noticed.

First, the qualifying phrase "so long as we discuss it first", which doesn't happen as often as you'd think. And secondly, that remaining 1% of the time. You would be amazed at how fraught the situation becomes when either of those two situations occurs.

My wife has a habit of just deciding things sometimes that involve the entire family without even discussing it with me first (or even mentioning it). This doesn't usually bother me. She's the oldest of seven children and has more initiative than you can shake a stick at. Also, she's at home with 4 kids most of all day, so she certainly has to make decisions and enforce them. I have no issue with this. I don't even normally mind if her decisions involve me having to perform some duty. I may gripe and complain, mind you, of which I am not proud, but on the whole I can see that she's probably right and whatever she wants to do probably should be done and I acquiesce. But then there are the other times...

I am particularly ornery when I have given my word that something will happen and my wife attempts to override it. Usually this involves a promise previously given to the children. I will be, perhaps not the first, but the second to admit that not all my promises are wisely made. However, my word, once given, is very important to me and I believe it is absolutely essential that my children have confidence in what their parents tell them. Call it a legacy of my youth. When their mother trumps me, however, it sends a horrible message to the children and, in an evil two for one deal, makes it impossible for me to righteously preside over our home.

On the flip side of that coin, I also need to refrain from upstaging my wife in a like manner, as it damages her ability to parent our children. So it works both ways. I am, however, under strict commandment from the Lord to preside in the home. So I become very frustrated when I feel that my ability to do so has been undermined. Not only do I look like a fool in front of my children (and what father wouldn't enjoy that?), but more importantly, I cannot discharge my responsibility to my family and the Lord in the way I am supposed to. And if I object or try to take control? I am immediately and loudly accused of unrighteous dominion. Often right in front of the children, who are becoming increasingly upset when my wife and I argue.

What truly hurts me is that my wife, my best friend, my eternal companion, who I love and respect above all others on the Earth, persists in believing that I actually just care about being in charge and doing "what I want." This is among the most staggeringly unjust and ludicrous assessments of my personality and desires that anyone has EVER made. And it's extremely painful that the person who should know me the best feels that way. When have I ever cared at all about "being in charge"? To the contrary I am much more often accused (and more justly, alas) of not being concerned enough about taking the lead and making decisions. I have to actively fight against that attitude on an almost daily basis.

So I'm between a rock and a hard place. If I try to ensure that decisions of consequence are made as I believe the Lord intends, then I'm painted as Hitlerian in my evil desire to dominate the family. But if I don't attempt to lead, then I'm in violation of my covenants with the Lord and derided for my lack of leadership and example. How to defeat this conundrum? That, my friends, is the art of presiding and it is an art that I have yet to master. But with prayer, study, and love, I hope to one day learn how to properly fulfill all my duties as a husband, father, and servant. May the day come soon.

And in the meantime, I'd like my irony with extra mustard, please...

My Sister

My heart is full this evening, so I had to post. Three days ago, I made contact with my long-lost sister who lives on the West Coast. We had never spoken and didn't even know that each other existed until six years ago (my family situation is bizarre.)

I can't believe it took me six years to get up the nerve to talk to her. What a waste! She is so great to talk to. She is absolutely wonderful. I messaged her on Facebook to add her as a friend and then opened a chat window with her the next day after she accepted. We chatted for hours on Facebook. Then the next night. And the next. And I couldn't be happier. I never imagined that I would find a sister who was so accepting of me, interested in knowing me, and willing to share information about herself so readily with me.

My only challenge now is to try to reign in the brotherly love. Because, you see, I am HUGE into family and I've been truly craving affection from my sisters on Dad's side of the family for years now, mostly in vain. They all live hours away though, so I don't see them often enough and haven't kept up with them. That's my fault, of course, but there also hasn't been any effort on their part, which saddens me.

But now I have my sister who is the closest to me in age (1 year and 1 day older than me) and she's everything I ever hoped for and more. And therein lies the rub... I'm almost afraid to let her know how I feel, because I'm so dang sentimental. She has become extremely important to me very quickly and I don't want to freak her out.

In my youth, I had a depressing tendency to care a great deal about people who then either didn't return the feeling or got freaked out because I was too obvious in my affection and then shunned me. So I'm kinda gun-shy. I have dropped hints (and none too subtle) that I really am ecstatic that we have a relationship (though I don't call it that, of course) but I'm afraid that my natural affection for her might push her away. When I feel strongly about someone, I turn into a great big girl and get all dopey. Don't ask why; I don't know. It sucks, though. The urge to give her a huge hug and tell her how much she means to me is overwhelming. Yet whelmed it must be...

All I know is that I am extremely happy and excited and grateful that she is in my life. The next step is to call her, but I don't want to rush that... I just want to enjoy this feeling that I finally have a sister that I feel close to and who seems to care about me. It's a new thing for me and I want to savor it.

Thank you, my Lord, for your many blessings. This was unexpected and is all the sweeter for that.

"I'm still here, El Guapo!"

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Rumors of my insanity, however, are actually pretty accurate. Nonetheless, here I am.

There is nothing earth-shattering to write about, but I felt in the mood. I'm currently listening to Miss Tennessee belting out some gosh awful operatic sounding tripe. You know, whoever decided that insanely high notes that are sustained for minutes at a time were actually pleasing to the ear is a moron. Seriously. I just don't get it. At all.

While we're on the subject of Things I Don't Get, I really don't know why my dear wife loves the Miss America pageant so much ("it's a scholarship program!") but I just shake my head and retreat to another room. Ogling fake, plastic-looking girls with painted on smiles in skimpy clothing just doesn't do it for me anymore. And no, I don't have to turn in my man card; I just grew up. Boo, scantily clad cuties. Hurray, wife.

It's been a nice couple of weeks. No major illnesses, fights, money issues, work problems, drunken Irish junkies, or other such catastrophes. The suspense is terrible; I hope it'll last.

I filed my taxes over a week ago, so I'm hopeful that next weekend we'll be able to conduct our yearly catching up on bills, paying down of debt, and shopping spree! Well, it's usually mainly for clothes and such, but there is the occasional luxury item. This year we're hoping for a Wii, but we'll see. I imagine my wife would rather see a reduction, not an increase, in the amount of gaming systems in the house. Truth be told, so would I, though I'm sure she would be shocked to hear it.

I'm trying to spend more time in worthwhile pursuits these days (he said while typing on the internet...), so I actually think that I would get rid of the PS2 if it weren't a DVD player. Ah well, perhaps we'll get a VCR/DVD combo in the future and I'll ditch it. The children need to go to bed, so I suppose I must away. Here's hoping it isn't the better part of half a year before my next post.

But don't hold your breath...

One day your uppance will come...

Beware the sports related blog ramble o' death.

I don't know why I'm a UT football fan. A part of me of says it was self-preservation since my wife bleeds orange and would not tolerate any other football fandom in the house. Another part says it's because they won the national championship the year I started watching them. And a more cynical part says it's because I must be a closet masochist.

I mean, seriously folks... UT, could you please play any worse on offense? Jon Crompton is, bless his heart, about as lost a young man as I have ever seen on a football field right now. He is not a leader, he is not a quarterback. He is a thrower (as in, throw in the towel.) As long as he's the QB, I don't see UT football going anywhere but home early, to have a nice cry. I hate to be harsh, because he's a kid and he doesn't get paid for this, but he has really been awful and it's getting WORSE instead of better. And don't get me started on Dave Clawson.

Phil Fulmer's days are probably numbered, whether you blame him or not. I cannot see the program and the fan base enduring another horrid season like '05, which is probably what this one will be. We still have SEC games with Georgia, who, despite being beat like a drum tonight by Alabama, will almost certainly beat us, Alabama (that one will probably be a huge loss), South Carolina (possible loss), Vandy (if we lose this again, Phil may be assassinated rather than fired), Mississipi State (we SHOULD win, but then we should have beat Auburn today too), and Kentucky (if we lose, I will euthanize myself.)

We could conceivably go 0 for the SEC, though in all likelihood, we will win at least two games, probably three, and possibly four in conference. If we didn't have Wyoming and Northern Illinois on the docket, I would say we might stand a slim chance of possibly losing every remaining game on the schedule (despite being in all our games into the 4th quarter so far, with the exception of Florida.) The SEC is a meatgrinder. But I'm probably just bitter, because we should really beat Kentucky and Mississippi State just by showing up.

Even if we beat NI, Wy, Ken, and Miss State, that still just FIVE total wins (thank you, whoever scheduled UAB). And those are by no means guaranteed victories. Granted we could ambush SC , but as bad as their offense was, ours is worse. Steve Spurrier has two poor QBs and we have one. At least he has numbers going for him.

We could also beat Vandy, but they are looking good so far, though they do tend to fold like a deck chair by the end of the season usually. Our problem is that I really don't see us doing much better with Crompton at the helm. I know they don't want to give up on the lad, but when do you say enough is enough and go with Stephens?

Anyway, I'm just a bitter Vols fan at the moment. And I have the right. I may bleed orange (though it's more Clemson orange), but the problem right now is that I bleed OFTEN.

Stupid Vols. Put me in at QB next time. You'd still lose, but at least you'd have a better excuse....

Ford hates me

So after much debate (and a small hiatus) I am back to reveal a terrible truth.

Ford hates me.

Viciously.

I have two Ford automobiles. Don't ask why. That's not the point. The critical point is that I hate them. Well, that sounds...ungrateful. Hmm, how can I say it in a less bitter fasion? I hate Fords in general and my two cars are good examples of why.

Well. That wasn't much better, I guess.

Too bad. Bite me, Ford.

Anyway, I have a Ford Taurus that doesn't run. I also have a Ford Contour that doesn't run. So I'm 0 for 2. Awesome. The Contour needs an alternator. The Taurus needs some lovin'. And a battery. And possibly other stuff. Who knows? A mechanic I ain't.

Anyways, you wouldn't think that an alternator is that hard to replace, right? Well, Ford in its infinite hatefulness decided to stick the alternator RIGHT UNDER THE ENGINE. Nowhere easy to get to. But that's not all. It's made so that the recommended way to remove the alternator is to REMOVE THE FRIGGIN' AXLE OFF THE CAR! Are you serious???

Ok, I do not have tons o' cash. Paying in excess of $300 to get an ALTERNATOR put on my car makes no sense to me (not to mention being economically unfeasible.) With the right tools and some know how, it should be an easy matter to remove the alternator oneself and install a new one. But no, Ford has decided that I must suffer.

Well, at least when we bought our van, we bought a Dodge. So take that, Ford.

And your little dog, too.

A Name and a Blessing

Yesterday I had the privilege of naming and blessing my youngest child. "Rosebud" was perfect throughout the process, mainly because she was asleep. We even had a working microphone for this blessing, unlike for the boy, so my dear wife could actually hear what was said, though writing it down with three children crawling over her proved problematic. I helped fill in some of the gaps from memory.

It was a very humbling experience to name and bless what will in all likelihood be our last child. I say in all likelihood because although my wife had her tubes tied (cut and burnt as well, I like to say), there is always the possibility that we may adopt later in life. I don't think it likely, but one never knows.

In thinking about this event, I realized that my wife and I are done with our childbearing years and are now focused on our "childrearing" years. Which could also conceivably be called "a slow, steady nervous breakdown" if one were only slightly cynical. Fortunately, I am the epitome of optimism...or at least good at fooling myself, so I prefer to think of these as the good years.

Our oldest starts 4th grade and "pixie" starts pre-K this year, so it should be an interesting and exciting time. Did I mention that I don't like exciting? Nope, I'm a boring, keep-it-simple kind of guy. Exciting stinks. But I'm trying to learn to roll with the punches. If life could at least do me the courtesy of keeping them above the belt, it would be easier...

You stay classy, San Diego.

Welcome aboard

Hidey Ho, Internet Denizens! Welcome to the somewhat bizarre life I lead. Or at least as much of it as I am willing to publicly admit to. I will start out with a few ground rules here in my first post. From them, you may feel free to draw whatever conclusions about my character that you like. But you will probably be wrong. Unless you think I'm just a big dork, which would actually be dead-on. But I digress... To the rules!

First, I will state that I have absolutely zero reason to either A.) keep a blog or B.) think that anyone would actually want to hear my rambling who is not already forced to it by proximity, employment, or blood relation. That will not deter me, however. I am remarkably unconcerned by such trifles. That is, to coin a phrase, how I roll. Deal.

Second, I have been fantastically bad at keeping any sort of regular record of my thoughts, doings, life events, or whatnot for most of my existence on this planet, so I do not expect this blog to be any different. So I doubt that it will be frequently updated. You have been duly warned. So no griping about lack of updates.

Third, I ramble. It's what I do. I dig it. Thus the name of the blog. Expect stream of consciousness, people. I may not do it well, but by gosh I do it frequently, so whenever I do happen to post, the likelihood of it making sense is miniscule, at best. If I were even slightly coherent, I would do this for a living.

Fourth, I sometimes (well, often) use big words that are not found in common parlance. Not because I think I'm all that brilliant (I have learned that harsh lesson quite painfully and no, I do not need any more humility right now, thanks) and not because I think it looks cool (most people just think I'm a dork), but simply because I like big words. They have flavor. They please me. They roll off the tongue. Or the keyboard. Or whatever. Anyway, if you see a word that forces you screaming in frustration to dictionary.com, then sorry. But not really. I try to learn new words regularly and I think everyone should. Blame Stephen R. Donaldson.

Fifth, (what, are you still here? Geez...) I quote movies. Compulsively. I love it. I can't help it. Movies are great and well-written one-liners are worth their weight in gold. Sometimes the quote may be applicable to what I'm writing, sometimes I may just throw it in there. Sometimes I will paraphrase. Rarely will I actually cite the movie I'm quoting, though, so many people just scratch their heads in confusion when I do it. Either way, suffice it to say that if what I'm saying sounds cool or profound or vaguely familiar, I have probably ripped it off from a movie. I never claimed to be original. In fact, my lack of originality is the stuff of legend. If the stuff of legend can be incredibly boring...

Ok, I think that's enough to be going on with for now. If you are still here and still sane, I will leave you with this: My wife is awesome. My three daughters are fabulous. My son is marvelous. My life is blessed. So I hope there will be precious little angst in my future postings, but I will try to make them both shorter and more interesting than this one.

No promises, though.

Stay classy, San Diego.