Have the courage to man-up for your kids

I finally got to hole-up for a couple hours in a movie theater last week and watch “Courageous”.
It was pretty much as I expected it to be, which is a good thing. Being a fan of the previous films produced by Sherwood Baptist Church of Albany, Ga., I knew it would provide inspiration based on biblical principles amid action, comedy and drama. The quality of the production and the acting has steadily improved with each outing by Sherwood Pictures.
The focus of “Courageous” is on fatherhood. Their previous films have focused on marriage (“Fireproof”), integrity (“Facing the Giants”), and honesty (“Flywheel”). In “Courageous”, the story revolves around four men – three sheriff’s deputies and a laborer. The four men come together and, through various trials, learn what it means to be a father. Each has their own story and I won’t ruin it here with spoilers. If you haven’t seen it, you’re missing something special.
I knew going in that I needed to be convicted and inspired in my role as a father. I have four children, three boys who live at home and an adult (gulp!) daughter from a previous marriage who lives in Virginia. Many times in the movie I felt like the script had been written under my roof.
The part where one of the fathers is emotionally detached from his oldest child, a son, and devoted to his little daughter could very well be me. I met my oldest son just before his fourth birthday. I was dating his mother and adopted him after Sandy and I were married. I love him to no end, but it has been hard for me to show it. He was (is) a vivacious character who could steal your heart and simultaneously push your hot buttons.
Too often he would steal his mother’s heart while pushing my buttons, which led to a lot of conflict. As a result, I was never as close to him as I am with his younger brothers. At 4 years of age his personality was set and I had no say in shaping his early character. We tend to be polar opposites in personality. He’s outgoing and I’m quiet. He is good with math and electronics and I’d rather read a book. He likes modern music and I’m content with classic country. You get the picture.
I have tried to be a part of his life, but I don’t give myself passing grades for the effort. I am often there with him but rarely there for him. The things he likes do not appeal to me and vice versa. That’s not to say that we don’t get along. We do. There is a mutual love and respect now that he’s well into his teen years. Still, I can’t help but wonder how much jealousy and/or envy he feels for his brothers and sister. I’ve been able to engage in their lives much more easily.
(Wesley, if you’re reading this, I want you to know how sorry I am for every minute that I spent on the computer and not at your side. I’m sorry for almost never playing catch, board games and generally horsing around with you. I hope you can forgive me. I really want to make it up to you but I don’t know how. You’re a young man now with your own life pursuits. Please understand that I love you very much and I desire to be a vital part of your life.)
As I was reminded very vividly in the movie, life is precious and short. Our relationships are what matter most in this life. Without relationships and love, all the money and power in the world ain’t worth squat. Since I don’t have any money to worry about, I should be investing a lot more of myself into my children and my wife. Even if I did have money, I still need to be more involved with my family. I have always had a tendency to be a little aloof, not just with my children but with most everyone. It’s not that I feel superior or disinterested, I just have a difficult time connecting with people the way I should.
I feel like I’m paying the price for that now with my two younger brothers. I did have a superiority complex being the oldest. I was more interested in finding my own friends than spending time with them. Now I haven’t seen them (or my friends) in years. I feel like I’ve lost touch with a part of me.
Time and money keep me from visiting. Time and money have kept me from a lot of things. I refuse to let them keep me from my familial relationships. I will have the courage to change. I will engage in the lives of my loved ones. It takes real courage to man-up like that. I don’t need a movie to tell me do it. Without the movie, however, I would be struggling a lot more on this journey without its guiding light.

What's up with the whole Occupy Wall Street thing?

I don’t fully understand what the whole Occupy Wall Street protest is all about.
Do these people want to live on government welfare? Do they think it’s immoral to make a profit? Do they lack the gumption, fortitude and good ol’ American ingenuity to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and start their own business (or, Heaven forbid, take a lesser job for a while)?
I sure wish I had the time to sit around and bite the hand that feeds me. I’d use that time to do something constructive with my life. Just imagine what these people could do if they took all their energy, passion and talent and put it to positive, constructive use.
I suppose these people who are all against “corporate greed” (i.e. profits) and who want government to fix their problems might be happier in a place like China. It’s a communist nation and the government will provide for them. They can take back their jobs that were sent over there so people here didn’t have to do menial, tedious work to make affordable the cool gadgets we like so much.
I really do feel bad for those who are out of work. The U.S. economy has been weak for a long time. That doesn’t mean, however, that envy and anger at those who are successful in business is going to accomplish anything. Instead of being upset that you don’t have what they have earned, why not learn from your mistakes and their successes and change your own life? Why wait on someone or something else to take care of you?
I know what it’s like to be unemployed. I started a business that failed. I’ve been bankrupt and out of a job. It hurts. It’s no fun. But I didn’t sit there and protest. I went right out and found a job. The economy in the post-dot.com era wasn’t much better than it is now and I still found a way. And if I can do it …

Tut, Tut, it looks like reign

I thought that headline was cute. When I went to the press preview of the Tutankhamun exhibit at The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, I had two things running through my mind – the song “Walk Like an Egyptian” and the quote from Christopher Robin in Winnie the Pooh, “Tut, tut, it looks like rain.” I don’t know how many people out there caught the play off that quote. Pooh, of course, was interested in a type of gold much sweeter than that of a golden mummy.
Growing up, I heard a lot of mention of Tut, but didn’t know much about him. Seeing the exhibit was initially a curiosity thing for me. I wanted to know what the fuss was all about. I left totally awed by what I saw. The first thing that struck me was how much smaller the artifacts were than what I had imagined them to be. The second thing was how incredibly ornate and finely detailed each piece was, especially considering their extreme age. I had no idea that ancient Egyptians had the knowledge and the tools to make things of such fine detail and craftsmanship.
We were told that this U.S. tour would be the last time the Tut exhibit would make the rounds. It is bound for permanent placement in a new museum in Egypt. We have less than six months to see it here in Houston. I highly recommend it, especially for children who may never have an opportunity like this again. The history behind it and its discovery is fascinating and the artistry of the pieces is unparalleled, especially for its time. Maybe I’m just naïve about art and antiquities, but even for my untrained eye, I could tell this is something that’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
If you get the opportunity to see it, do so! You won’t regret it.

Got money? Dave Ramsey can teach you how to get some

Dave Ramsey is the rock star of nerds.
A bald, pudgy, middle-age man who dresses conservatively and councils people about money, Ramsey has all the power, enthusiasm and a following that would make the typical celebutante envious.
When Dave Ramsey speaks, even Charles Schwab listens – or at least he should. When Ramsey makes public appearances – which he did last weekend in Katy and Houston – he is greeted by cheering throngs of wide-eyed, book-toting fanatics. They’re either meeting him at a book signing (like the one in Katy) or attending one of his seminars (which he held in Houston).
They come in droves to study at the master’s feet. He regales them with humorous anecdotes, fast facts and the painful truth. He is a counter-cultural revolutionary who is helping millions of people get out of debt and build personal wealth. As he likes to put it, he is helping people change their family tree.
In the last few months Ramsey has had a lot of my attention. He ought to have a lot of yours. I don’t mean to put him on a pedestal or to worship him like some kind of idol or living god. That’s that last thing he would want and I certainly don’t pray that way.
As someone who works in a struggling industry during a weak economy and who has been through a business failure, bankruptcy and foreclosure, the message Ramsey preaches is more valuable than gold, more inspiring than a mountaintop sunrise and more personally meaningful than anything on TV or at the movies. This is real life and real common sense.
In a society that values credit and debt, Ramsey is the get-rich guru who teaches sound, biblical principles of getting out of debt, building wealth and giving much of it away. He’s the guy known for cutting up credit cards and using a great deal of charisma and passion while speaking to people about how to handle their finances at his sell-out seminars and on his daily radio show.
Last weekend I had the opportunity – no, the honor – of interviewing him in person during his stop in Katy. A scheduling conflict kept me from attending his seminar at Reliant Arena, but I made the most of the few golden minutes I had. The interview was held on his tour bus in the parking lot at Katy Mills Mall. He greeted me with a smile and a firm handshake and offered me a drink. I had a bottle of water and he sipped his drink of choice, Mountain Dew.
His tour bus is far more opulent inside than my home or the homes of a lot of people I know.
“This is John Madden’s old bus,” he said.
Ramsey is on tour promoting his new book, EntreLeadership. His seminar was based on a previous book and program called The Total Money Makeover. In addition to his book tour, seminars and radio program, he is also touting his Great Recovery program and is very active with social media. When I asked him how he does it all, he just grinned and said, “I work when I want to.” His team – not employees or staff – is trained to run his business without him. “I’ve got a great team,” he said.
“I spend about 25 to 30 percent of my time as CEO and 70 percent of my time being the product,” he said.
The key to his business and the central point of his new book is to value people. He said all people, customers and employees alike, need to be valued, honored, respected and trusted. That’s why he has a team and no employees. He is a teammate, not a boss or a manager.
“Those businesses that are run well really believe that people matter. Their customers are real; they have real dreams and families,” he said.
It’s the Golden Rule. Treat people the way you want to be treated. You can get what you want in life if you help enough other people get what they want.
Even though the economy is down, he said this “one of the best times ever” to start a new business.
“There are a lot of great businesses started in down times,” he said. “There are a lot of really good people who have been pushed out of the corporate nest who are in need of a job.”
He said pooling that misplaced talent and growing it in an environment that allows them to be creative and to build on their strengths will help any business flourish when everyone else is busy tightening their belts.
I asked him if he had some time to talk to the President and the Secretary of the Treasury what he would say to them. It was one of the few times I saw him frown.
“I don’t know that I would be able to tell them anything. I’m just a regular guy,” he said.
He went on to say that his advice would be to the public to “quit looking to the President and the Secretary of the Treasury to fix your life.”
He said it’s wrong to put your hopes on Washington to fix our jobs. He said the best thing government can do is to get out of the way and let businesses do what they do best. He said taxing businesses and rich people hurts the economy and doesn’t help it.
“I can’t hire people with money I don’t have,” he said.
After the interview, he posed for a couple pictures, autographed a book and wished me well. I left the bus clutching a bottle of water and hanging onto more hope and inspiration than I’ve felt in a very long time. It was the same sense of hope and happiness that I saw in hundreds of faces in the line in Books-A-Million as he signed books and visited with folks.
Yeah, he was a rock star, shining on the stage of life and giving hope to so many desperate people who just want to turn their lives around.
God bless you, Dave Ramsey!

I'm a perfectionist in recovery

I’m not a slob; I’m a perfectionist in recovery.
I came up with that little gem the other night while listening to an audio book were a therapist described herself as a perfectionist in recovery. I think I’ll plaster it on some T-shirts and bumper stickers and make a little money on the side. I hereby proclaim copyright to the phrase and will file the necessary paperwork just as soon as I can find it on my desk.
There once was a time when I was so much the perfectionist that if it were true that a clean desk is a sign of a sick mind, my mind would be the unhealthiest place on earth, or at least at the level of a two-day-old tuna fish sandwich on a hot summer day.
I’m a packrat by nature, but an organized one. As a boy, I had a very cluttered room. Not a messy clutter, just a room overflowing with stuff. I kept my action figures and models neatly displayed on stands or in dioramas on my bookshelf. My walls were plastered with posters, but in an orderly fashion. I’m anal to the point of trying to keep various objects straight and neat and in order.
If I didn’t have room for something, I placed it in an organized pile. Those piles were my variation of an in-box of things to do later. Eventually, later would come and the pile would be dispatched with each item in its proper place.
Flash forward to adulthood and wouldn’t you know it, I married a fellow packrat. Together we are raising a brood of little packrats. Our house sometimes has the feel of a storage unit on steroids. We haven’t been able to park a vehicle in a garage since midway through the second Bush administration.
When you take two packrats and put them together – each coming from a previous marriage and with a household of stuff – you get to become very familiar with boxes and tight spaces. By the time you throw a few children into the mix, you reach a point where you own more stuff than you can possibly cope with in the dwindling time you have.
When we left Colorado in 2005, we had already held a huge garage sale and disposed of what I thought was a lot of stuff. It was a lot of stuff by the standards of any sane, normal person. The move to Amarillo, however, required multiple trips with huge rental trucks and trailers. Even so, we still left a few things behind. When we moved to Rosenberg almost three years ago, the move was made in haste and everything we brought had to fit in a rental truck and two cars. That meant leaving a lot of our belongings behind.
When you are forced to sacrifice like that, you really learn what things are important to you. I hate choosing between sentimentality and necessity. The compilation of most of my life’s work – dozens of boxes of newspaper clippings – were abandoned. Only a handful of things I’ve kept from my childhood made the trip. Most of the things that possessed me are now in a dump somewhere in the Panhandle.
We moved into Sandy’s grandfather’s house and he moved out to a retirement home. Naturally, he left us most of his stuff. Managing all of this stuff hasn’t been easy. Sandy has acquired numerous books and magazine articles on de-cluttering your life. I know she has, because I think we still have most o f them.
I no longer have the time or energy to be the anal-retentive, neat-freak perfectionist that I used to be. At home I am a husband, father and pile manager. In recent months I have been listening to a lot of self-help audio books. I’ve taken to heart Luke 12:34 and Matthew 6:21 which says “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
If there is anything I have learned it is that my stuff has taken possession of me to the point that perfectionism has been squeezed out of me and I no longer enjoy my stuff the way I used to. I have boxes that have not been emptied in four moves and nearly a dozen years. I think it’s safe to say that I don’t want or need whatever the contents are.
I have reached the point where the perfectionist side of me is ready to make the big purge. At the end of the month we are going to hold a huge yard sale. I really do not need the boxs of Star Wars cup toppers, stuffed animals, freebie items, old electronics and so on that now reside where my car should be. It’s time to kick my stuff to the curb and take my car from the curb to the garage.
When that finally happens, I will have to learn how to park the car just so in a neat, orderly way. Then I can start telling people that I’m not a perfectionist, I’m just a slob in recovery.