C
O
R
E
On a recent Thursday, I closed the kitchen door behind me, opened my car, turned the key, and drove down the road away from our house. The sun glinted off of the melting snow while I dodged pot holes and pools of water. I considered my route and decided on the same drive that I took for the past three years. The turns and lights were etched into my muscle memory so even in my flight, I resigned to a cumbersome routine. The week before this drive I lost my job. Technically I resigned, but there’s no use in arguing technicalities. One way or another, I was no longer employed. Along with battling the lies that go along with hubandry and fatherhood, I could now add a new bullet to the list of wrongs I often tried to avoid. I was no longer a provider. Sure, I know these days that’s not such a big deal. Everyone works and some make more than others. But I’m old school enough to believe that it’s part of my duty and priviledge to put food on the table. I’m compelled to do it. As a man, I want to provide for my family and I wish I could do it alone, but I can’t.
We simply can’t afford to live in our part of the country on one income. I can live with that, so long as we’re both pulling our weight. But now...now I’m not. Now I’m stressed and irritable. Now I’m putting more strain on my family. Now our budget is truly tight. Now I have to try to defend and build my marriage in the midst of defeing our bank account. Now I have to speak words of life and hope over our kids when my soul is pretty hopeless most days. Now I’m wondering what’s next. Now I’m sitting in church, trying to listen but I can’t. Now I’m thinking about that drive in the car and how I only was gone 30 minutes before I careened over ice heaves back to my house to apologize and try again. I have a friend who likes to kick me in the face (his words). We actually haven’t known each other that long but we click. That’s why I went to him when I felt like my world was falling apart. He poured a beer and I started my story. He grciously let me finish before unleashing his round-house. He would bend down to pick me up just before
hitting me again with another truth, another exhortation and another challenge. I hated it but I loved it because I knew it was exactly what I needed. It was like my first time to fight club. But I’ve learned a few important things between losing my job and now: There are no shortcuts in marriage. You either love one another truly and deeply or you’re faking it. And if you’re faking it, it’s just a matter of time until everything falls apart. One of you has to take the high road, and it’s you. If you’re waiting for your wife to lead your family, you’re already missing the point. You’re the leader. She’s looking to you. Blaming her or giving the silent treatment makes you as guilty as Adam sitting quietly by while Eve takes a bite of the apple- so to speak. Frankly, pouting in a corner because you don’t feel like you should have to apologise or lead means you’re a coward and it’s time to change. Last lesson: marriage takes years of hard work, to build a solid foundation, but you can make a difference in your marriage today.
New England is super unique and that's why I love living here. But sometimes I catch myself gazing into utopian Colorado scenes on Instagram or myriad vintage photos streaming from Seattle. I get lost in the cool leather boots and endless flannel with misty mountains as a backdrop. I start to think I'd prefer to be there, amidst the sea of photographers, moving with the masses like one small thread on faded and ironic denim. For the record, I tried the hipster thing…once. Because aren't all photographers hipsters? You'd think so if you spent enough time on social media. Anyway, I went to some shop that sold expensive skinny jeans. They didn't go over my calf muscle. Seriously. I was sweating just trying to get them up my freakishly large lower leg. It was the beginning and end of my short-lived hipster dream. I was happy though, because as silly as this story is, the last thing I really wanted was to fall in line with some new trend - even if that trend tries really hard not to be a trend.
WHERE I BELONG
This post isn't about dissing skinny jeans, oversized sock hats and big glasses you don't have a prescription for (though it is kind of fun). Ihave lots of stylish friends who take drool-worthy photographs. This post is about learning to be satisfied where I am, when I am and with who I am. It's been an interesting journey to 26, with some serious life changes in my early 20's, and lots of important questions going half-answered until now. I'm trying to fill in some of those spaces now between two jobs, two kids and a receding hairline.
It's not easy- but then again I never expected it to be. Once life hits warp speed, you realize how important it is to be mindful and focused on the things that matter most. God and family come first, always. Climbing city skylines and road trips might call out my thirst for adventure but fade into the background as the kids get fevers or have soccer practice. Wishing to be somewhere else, or someone else, even mildly, causes us to miss the most significant moments happening right here and the adventure never leaves, it just looks different. I don't want to be in Colorado right now, as beautiful as it is. I want to be here, in New England, a few miles from the trails I used to ride my bike on as a kid. This is where I belong. I want to walk under the trees with leaves the color of fire, holding the still small hands of my children. Lord knows they only get bigger from here. I want to be with my wife, sleepily going over our budget and schedule, trying to make ends meet and still go to bed with a smile. I want to seek the trails early in the morning with a few good men, before the children wake, to catch the sunrise over our mostly small hills in Connecticut. I want this adventure, the one God has given my family, here in New England. I am happy here and I hope you are too, wherever you are, whenever your are, whoever you are. Make today count.
EMBRACE THE LEAK
We bought a house this past summer and absolutely love having our own space. We repurposed antique drawers and used them as shelves. We found restored end tables to sit aside our couches and added character and personality to every corner of our home (except for the playroom which looks like Toy R Us and the McDonald's ball pit made an explosive love child). It's been mostly amazing. I say mostly because, since moving in, we've broken one window, put a hole in a wall, had a water leak from the bathroom go through all three levels, scratched and dented door frames, lost one dryer, and today, our roof started leaking. So‌yes, just mostly amazing, but amazing nonetheless. Not to fear though, because there's a lesson to be learned in all of this (I had to come up with something otherwise I'd be soaking my keyboard with anguished tears of betrayal). At some point, we need to make something our own, whether it's a home, a passion or a career. The only problem is that once we leave the protection and insulation of condo living, our dreams and efforts face broken windows and leaky rooftops. Problems arise and you may wonder what, exactly, you were thinking going out on your own. It would have been easier to stay back and watch everyone else give it a shot, right? Sure. Easier but not better.
There is a time for condo living, for watching, for weighing your options and learning how the world turns, but at some point you will need to jump. Yes, there's risk involved and you'll need to have faith. You'll need to believe and work and be fearless. But it's worth it, I promise you. When you own something and put your sweat and blood into it, you are building a legacy and contributing your uniqueness to the world. We need you to be one of the few who take that leap. I don't regret choosing to be a homeowner because of a leaky roof. I don't regret being a photographer because of a saturated market. I don't regret choosing the family life with a beautiful wife and two children who I adore even though the stained couches and late nights require divinely imparted perseverance. I don't regret these things because it's in our nature to take something and make it ours. It's our responsibility to give our utmost to make this world a better place, a more beautiful place, and we can't do that by waiting for the moment when everything gets easier so we can leave the comfort of our cave. So, with all that said, I encourage you to embrace the leaky roof and discover what you really have to offer. By the way, all of these crazy things that come along with a life well lived are good, temporary, and always have solutions. Expect setbacks but persevere and don't fear, you're never alone!
C M
O A
G
R A
Z
I
E N
E