My wife, Jen, gets cold very easily. This morning, she walked out the door clad in multiple sweaters and a Carhartt to brave the 55ft walk to her already running car. What I heard as she passed by were soft whimpers of suffering but what I saw was a courageous explorer. Jen braved those 48-degree temperatures with the grit that would make Sir Ernest Shackleton proud. As I watched her stiffly enter the warm embrace of her beloved Santa Fe “Lucy” I realized that it’s not August anymore. Heck, it’s almost not September anymore. The cool morning air doubles as a blunt reminder that winter is coming and that my procrastination on writing these monthly blogs is incredibly effective. So I did what any self-respecting man would do. I made myself some hot chocolate and curled up next to my laptop to sort out my thoughts from the past while. Here they are.
Thing 1: No Room For an Anxious Heart
I’ve tried to become a better writer this past year. Not a grammatically better writer, I have no interest in learning the difference between an Oxford comma and a serial comma. The attempt at writing has been to extract the thoughts I have more effectively. Maybe then I’ll feel like a better writer. This past month I listened to a song by Chris Renzema. It was one of those songs that you feel like the artist wrote specifically for you. One that makes you think between repeated plays. I cannot do justice to the depths of these lyrics so I will let you read them.
“No Room for an Anxious Heart”
Is it true there’s no room in this house for an anxious heart?
Does that mean I have to leave, and go and find another place to start?
Does it mean to be kind enough to save?
Does it mean to be good enough to change me?
When the fear sets in, and I don’t know what to do
You’re the prince of peace
My heart belongs to You
Where do you start when you come before the Lord? Do you try to fix your anxious heart on your own? Do you leave His presence to find peace elsewhere? What if the anxiety doesn’t simply go away? These are the raw questions Chris writes about in his songs. In 2019 he wrote “How to Be Yours” describing the battle of not feeling worthy of being a Child of God.
This past month has been uncertain at many times. The message in these lyrics reminds me to give that uncertainty to the Prince of Peace. There’s room in this house, trust me.
Thing 2: Spontaneity
Two of my closest friends, Ryan and Madi just got married in Colorado in August. I love weddings. I love seeing people come together for the simple yet beautiful purpose of celebrating a love between two people. Classically the leading up to “The Day” includes a bachelor or bachelorette party. I’ve been involved with a decent number of bachelor parties over the years and they seem to attract the cliches of a wild night of partying and no regrets. When I was flying out to Colorado to meet Ryan and his other groomsmen I informed the lady next to me that I was going to a bachelor party. She immediately offered me a “liquid IV” packet to help when I’m inevitably hungover, I politely declined and smiled. Now I’m not saying I don’t party at a bachelor party, I’ve been known to get pretty bold while riding the sugar rush from my second rootbeer. Yet I think there’s a unique opportunity afforded by gathering a group of young men who may or may not all be together again.
Our day was planned by Ryan’s brother Caleb. The plan was no plan. That’s not entirely true there were a few things concrete but we all knew the best memories would be the spontaneous decisions. The day went something like this:
Sunrise hike
Breakfast burritos as big as your face
Channeling our inner white girl with Target and coffee
Rock climbing in the rain
Driving through a hail storm with the rental car
Finding a mountain town hotspring
Eating Indian food somewhere along the map
Watching Ryan do backflips with strangers on the street
Sunset hike
Sitting around the lodge in fancy chairs swapping late-night stories.
It was during these late-night conversations that we found the true meaning of a bachelor party. We asked questions of one another, we gave and took advice, we prayed for one another. We cried together. We became better men that night. Those memories are sacred to me and I don’t know when I’ll have conversations that authentic again. The world needs more men that are invested in the process of bettering men. Sometimes all you need to do to find that is to throw a party.
Thing 3: Chandelier Challenges
Jenny and I bought our 1950’s Cap Code with the dream of renovating it into a beautiful home. I’ve been taught two very important lessons by this old house so far. First, it doesn’t always happen during the commercial break. I grew up watching “Extreme Makeover Home Edition” which is definitely not the most realistic representation of a flip house. Ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out how to “time-lapse” my house projects. It turns out there is no time-lapse when your primary currency is sweat equity. Simply do the project, even if it takes a long time. The second lesson I’ve learned has been to embrace the learning. When we bought the house we were excited to learn all there is to know about flipping a house. Little did I know how impressively incompetent I was at essentially every topic required to do so. Jenny has a saying that’s been referenced multiple times at 265 Pine Rd. “If you’re going to be dumb, you better be tough.” And dumb we are, but less dumb than yesterday. I used to be more self-conscious about my lack of electrical, plumbing, and woodworking skills, but now I’m attempting to embrace the growth opportunity. So instead of electrocuting myself I simply pick up my phone and call my electrician friend Brandon 27 times on his day off. I pick his brain about chandelier wiring, receptacle updating, and dimmer tuning until I understand. He’s very patient with me, and I’m very grateful to learn. If you need the reminder here it is, it’s okay to be dumb at something, keep trying.
Final Thoughts:
I think you’re a wonderful person.
Song suggestion: “The Right Things” ~ Chris Renzema
Until next time,
C.S
