Thoughts_Don’t Be Afraid To Swing

The cheer would carry itself over the distance and the crowd of other parents in attendance, “Come on TJ you got this!”  The next call would echo out, “Let’s go buddy!” A short, chubby, and completely out of shape TJ would slowly step up to the batters box of the little league field. My bat in tow, my batting helmet on, and my bright blue and orange Met’s uniform was in high contrast on the spring afternoon in Desert Hot Springs, CA.

I would step up to the plate, do one or two of those rotation swings to make me feel as if I was loosened up. The pitcher narrowed his eyes in to the catcher, and as we all did back then, we pretended we were on live TV, and this was the big game. The pitcher wound up and threw the ball as best as he could. “STRIKE” came the call. “It’s ok pal! You got this” Came the new cheer from my parents. I would gaze upward, “Maybe this will be my pitch” I’d think to myself.  The pitcher wound up, another heater coming down the pipe just as if he was Hall of Fame’r Randy Johnson… “STRRRRIKE” came the call again. “Alright TJ, don’t worry this next one is yours!”  My parents would yell out, clearly having far more faith in my abilities than I did. “Ok… Ok… This one, this one is mine!”  I’d tell myself.  The Pitcher knowing he had me against the wall and was about to cock back his rifle of an arm; which would then release the final round from his firing squad pitch. “Here it comes, here it comes, here it…”   “STRIKE! You’re out son.”  The umpire would mercilessly tell me.

And that process would continue on for most of my year in little league. I was given the award of “Most walked player” because I was so afraid of swinging that I got walked more times than I got on base from hitting the ball. In practice, aww man I was crushing balls and making monster outfield hits, but when it came to the real game, I simply didn’t have the courage to take the swing on the pitch that I really wanted to.

But that is also life sometimes isn’t it? We prepare, train, practice and get as ready as we can for a job, career, or opportunity, but we never take the swing at the ball.  Self-doubt is something that many people struggle with; especially when we also surround ourselves with other people who have self-doubt. They discourage us from trying, or try to tear us down from the little bit of motivation that we do muster up. The simple fact is that you cant listen to the self-doubt, and you cant let those who are filled with self-doubt stop you from trying.

As the old saying goes, “You’re always going to have a no answer if you never ask the question.”  Same goes for taking the first step of courage; you cant get a home-run unless you swing the bat, and don’t be afraid to swing away, sooner or later your rotation is going to come back around and you’ll be up to bat again to swing for the fences. So go crush your home run!

Short_The Barber

As you drive towards the center of town, you’d find it on the outskirts. It’s so small in size that one could easily pass right by it and not even notice. The dirt and gravel parking lot surrounds it, with the red, white, and blue striped barbers pole swirling outside; a historic symbol reaching back to the Middle Ages. As you walked up to the door, a firm and hardy push was required to open it. Your nose was filled with a warm aromatic mixture of leather, cedar, pine, and of course the morning coffee which was either currently brewing, or sitting in its pot ready for the next cup to be poured.

Immediately to the left was an old wooden rocking chair, the type that gave a light squeak with every rock its participant put in to it. The left side of the room held a wooden bench that resembled that of a old church pew and park bench combined. It also had that warm wooden creak sound to it that was only perfected over the many years it settled in to its existence. The wall behind and above the wooden bench was filled with old photographs. Photographs of memories long ago, polaroids and captured snapshots in time. Many with dates written on the button and a brief title, “John’s first steelhead trout.” or something similar to that effect.

The small wood fireplace was in the right corner of the room. The crackling pops of the fire made it feel like your escape cabin. You weren’t in the small town rustling and bustling; when you were in the barber shop you seemed to be teleported out in to the backwoods. The small cabin that was designed for a man and his dog to escape to on a weekend where they just needed to decompress. Spend a day reflecting, an hour cussing the good Lord, another hour apologizing to the good Lord for the cussing, an hour getting ready to throw your fishing line in the water, and two hours trying to get your favorite lure unstuck from the submerged log you didn’t know was there. A place where you could just let the cell phone buzz away with messages while you blocked out the every day life for just a few moments.

In the center of the room was the barber chair; behind it was the back wall with the mirror and the tools of the trade. If a customer wasn’t there getting a trim, you could find him sitting in the barber chair. Sipping on his cup of coffee and reading through the local paper, a new book he had picked up or been given as a gift, or the good book itself. Sometimes people just went in there for the coffee and conversation. At this point in history, I’d say its safe to say that there have been over a million cups of coffee poured in that small tiny house, but it was always amongst good company.

The barbers chair where you took your son for his first hair cut. And slowly continued on through his years. He got to watch young boys turn in to boys. Boys turn in to young men, and young men turn in to men. He was there for you over the years. Through all your troubles and all your successes. The high times just as much as the low ones. He would tell you where the fish were biting that day, or where Jerry had just shot the giant buck of the season.  He kept you up to speed on what the local school teams were doing, and reminded you that them kids need encouragement just like anyone else in town.

You didn’t just get a hair cut when you went in; you got a mentorship lesson from a guidance counselor. A word of encouragement when your plan just didn’t turn out the way you’d thought it would. A deacon who could help provide healing to a broken heart. A quite, gentle, reassuring ear to listen for those who needed to tell the horrors of war to someone who wouldn’t judge them. A prayer to those who simply were lost and needed to remember to turn towards His light. He wasn’t just a barber to many of us, he was family.

Though it has been many years sense I’ve seen you, or even spoken to you. Thank you for all your prayers, support, and encouragement of the years Uncle Mike. God bless you, and I hope this finds you well.

Love, TJ

 

Thoughts_A Million Emotions

          It is pitch black in the stadium. You nudge your friend standing next to you, “I bet they play our song next!” you say with excitement. The older adults in the stadium pull out their Bic lighters, whereas the millennials pull out their phones, and the thousands gathered together are slowly illuminated as the tiny lights shine brighter with each new light that joins the luminous atmosphere. The spotlights on the stage fade brighter as the lead singer is now seen on the center stage sitting on the bar stool, and the acoustic guitar draped across their lap. The music begins, you close your eyes, and you feel your soul being connected to an emotional state that which now brings your soul and spirit together.

          What is it about music that can bring us out of our lowest of lows, and also takes us to our highest of highs? The bass that vibrates through us with every bass drum kick, your favorite singers vocals that you swear you don’t listen with your eardrums, but rather you heard it directly in your heart. What is it that causes such a connection to our body, spirit, and our souls?  It has been said, that if a picture is worth a thousand words, than a song is worth a million emotions. Why is it that music has become such an important and influencial piece to our lives?

          I’d say it simply comes down to the point that God made music as the avenue for us to praise Him. Now yes, there were songs and music made for other reasons, but in the Bible we see many verses where music was specifically utilized to praise God. It was completely dedicated and focused to worshiping God, to sing joyfully, to make a loud noise, to bang the drums and to dance. The act of worship was, and should be one where you are leaving everything outside of the sanctuary, you are coming forward and completely focusing on God and lifting up your entire essence to Him. You are worshiping through singing, dancing, playing of an instrument. So you are connecting physically in the act of worship; you are lifting up your spirit and your emotions of grateful admiration for the grace and mercy of Christ up to Him above; as you now also have your soul connected to the Holy Spirit all at the same time.

          Our body, spirit, and soul are such fragile things though aren’t they? One thing that impacts one of them can easily impact the other two. The heart crushing breakup that leave us in the deep abyss of despair. The broken bone that leaves us filled with fear and doubt if we’ll be able to recover from the injury. Our continued failures in particular areas of our career that leave our souls in the belief that we are nothing but a failure, that nothing we do or attempt to accomplish turns out being a success.

          Yet, that song. That one song that connects to your body, spirit and soul. That one song that can kick your engine in to high gear. That song that pulls us out of the darkness. That song that gives us just enough hope, to cling and hold on for just one more day. You know what song that is, because we all have our one, or few songs that do that to us. When your deeply, madly even, in love with your special someone, nothing can speak more deeply to your spirit and soul as The Goo Goo Dolls, “Iris” does. When you are ready for that next round in the gym and Metallica’s “Fuel” comes on across your headphones. You are driving home, and Charlie Puth comes across the radio with, “See You Again.” and now your close friend or family member who passed away is now sitting right next to you as your tears slowly streak down your face.

          For some of us the emotional connection we have to some songs seems to be so deep that words simply can’t describe it. Yet that was the purpose all along wasn’t it? Music was created, because God knew that there would come times when we would need something that connected inside us on every level of our being. God knew we would need to have such a deep emotional connect that could span time and space. A way for us to express our deepest sorrows and pain, while also being able to share in those moments of victory and accomplishment. This is how a song has a million emotions that connects us all together.

LdrOlgy_EXCELLENCE in all WE DO

“A man who has the answer to the problem, and does not share it, is a larger problem than the obstacle currently facing the team.” – TSgt TJ Lombardi

The small room was filled with 62 young men wearing their Battle Dress Uniforms, (BDU’s). They were crammed in to the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, because there was simply no room for them to fit otherwise. The intense, fearless, and unyielding Training Instructor, SSgt De-Leon Acosta paced the room as she asked the young BMT Flight. “Is perfection obtainable?!” The pause filled the room as everyone was afraid to answer. “Is perfection obtainable?! NO! But it is the pursuit of perfect that you find excellence!” She then followed it up with, “You must give your absolute best… that if at any time… someone comes to inspect your work, there is NO DOUBT… that you gave your best… NO… DOUBT!” The intense shout leaving an impact that would be an anchor for others to rely upon, for what the standard was, and still is to this day.

We should be pursuing excellence… in all we do…. It is not excellence in all “I” do… it is EXCELLENCE in all WE DO! Our passion for pursuit of excellence “should” be contagious. As we push ourselves, we should be pushing all of those around us to push themselves. You see, I… am pursuing excellence, I am pursuing to create the best quality of work, but we… together… as a team… must be pursuing excellence. We must all rely on each other, and we must all be able to come to the circle, and see everyone in our team together and tell one another in pure honest humility, “Yes! I will give us, our team, my absolute best!” And if you cannot truly have the integrity to stand there and tell your entire team that, than you know that you are a weak link.

If you are that weak link… WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!?! Are you truly giving your best? Are you truly giving your team… your best? If you don’t know the answer, ask! If you are not sure where to turn to next… say so! Integrity in the form of an action, is to be a self-initiating choice of knowing that the problem will not be solved, unless you yourself take the action to find the solution.

If the team is presented with a problem that effects the progression of the team, and a man who has the answer to the problem, and chooses to not share it with the team, is a larger problem than the obstacle currently facing the team.

We as individuals and as a team must be openly dedicated to the progression of our mission together. For if one falls, we all fall. For it is not just I that needs to give my best, it is all of us that must give our best. Let us be a team that proudly states for all to bear witness, “Excellence in all WE DO!’

LdrOlgy_Cloud of Witnesses

Hebrews 12:1 The Voice (VOICE)

12:1 So since we stand surrounded by all those who have gone before, an enormous cloud of witnesses, let us drop every extra weight, every sin that clings to us and slackens our pace, and let us run with endurance the long race set before us.

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Our cloud of witnesses. In todays society, the internet and social media have given us a digital platform where videos, photos and content can be uploaded instantly. As they say, “Once it is posted on the internet, it will be there floating around forever.” I don’t know how true that really is; but there is something more important and something that truly will always be remembered, and that is your actions, your spirit, your behavior to those around you.

The book of Hebrews in the New Testament of the Bible tells us that we are “Surrounded by an enormous cloud of witnesses.”  All of our fellow Christians who have gone before us. They watch us and wait for us to join them.

For those of us in the warrior brotherhood; we imagine the thought of our family awaiting us in the halls of Valhalla; awaiting to great us in a ceremonious roar once we arrive at its doors.

And for those of you who have read my older blog post, you will know how I view, and combine both of those beliefs.

But what about the cloud of witnesses here? Those that surround us daily?

You are always on display 24/7, 365.  Your actions and how you carry yourself will always be judged and analyzed by those surrounding you. This performance in leadership is why I would say that it is truly something rooted inside certain people and developed over time, it is not something that can simply be learned and acquired.

Every day, you must battle yourself and ask, “Will I be a good man? Do I have the strength to be such a man?”  And many days you truly do have to rely on God to give you that strength and courage to be such a man. Because leadership is something that will challenge you more anything.

This cloud of witnesses is not simply your peers, your troops, your employees. It is your wife, and it is your kids, it is your family, it is your friends. It is everyone around you; all with whom you come in to contact.

That is why the other part of the verse encourages us, ‘to throw off every weight that weighs us down, and holds us back from keeping the stride of our run in this race.‘ You as a leader will always be surrounded by the cloud of witnesses, and if they are ever asked, what will they say about you from what they have witnessed?

Thoughts_The Moderation brings forth the Excess

The soft breeze blew across the deck of the house during the mid afternoon festivities. Everyone gathered around in a circle as they bounced from story to story, and shared tales of many adventures.

At one point throughout the conversations and stories came the one that would stand out the most to me. Sitting in his patio chair; he adjusted himself and told of a moment long ago when he was with his father; “What the parents do in moderation, the children will do in excess.” he stated. “My father repeated it to me, and for 20 years I had held on tight to that mindset.”

His voice is deep, and he carriers a commanding presence wherever he goes. If you were to be asked to describe him; you would not be wrong to say, “He’s the big, strong, old school country boy you don’t want to mess with.” When I see him, I see many similarities of my grandfather. Yet, I never was able to learn from my grandfather, for I was always afraid of him, and never saw my grandfather more than maybe 3 or 4 times before he died.

As he sat on the porch among the group and shared the story. I couldn’t help by have flash-back memories of my life growing up; with time frames jumping and bouncing around to current day experiences I was dealing with. That reminder was matched with something I was reminded of from earlier in the week; what are our responsibilities? What are we responsible for as adults, husbands, parents, workers, human beings, children of God?

As we live in a world of an ever evolving culture, social construct, and people who are more concerned with what they can indulge in rather than what they can have self-discipline over; I was impacted with this genuine moment of truth, that I need to be mindful of the severity that it is to be a young Godly man; but to be mindful of the young minds and eyes of those who watch us and look up to us.

If my heart is always filled with anger, will that be the only thing my children remember as they grow older? If I am consumed with alcohol, will my children know how to not abuse it? If I am a parent who spends all their time at work, and never with my children, will they themselves know how to spend time with their children?

It is a strong reminder for all of us to be mindful of. What are the things we are promoting to our children, our families, and hose we love the most.

Short_The Nurse

She looked down at her phone and began typing away at the small keypad. “I should be home around 9:30.” She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall, 8:30… “Only an hour to go.” She thought to herself.

Her mind was interrupted though when her senses kicked in; she snapped her head down the hallway. “Mr. Johnson I told you that you need to rest! Now get your ass back in bed!” The elderly patient just twisted his head as he lowered his eyebrows with a firm scowl across his face. “Well…. I uhh….”  She started to walk down towards her patient from the nurses station. “I can’t sleep….. It’s just uhh…”  She reached out and latched on to his arm, almost in the same manner a young adult clings on to their loving grandparent. “It’s just what Mr. Johnson?” He raised his head up so he could look her in the eyes. “It’s just so quite and lonely in there.”

All she could do was smile, but it wasn’t a smile of all joy and happiness, there was still a stubborn old man who didn’t want to listen. Yet, deep down, her sympathy and empathy reminded her of her grandparents. “Well, you need to get in bed Mr. Johnson… you need your rest.” She sternly insisted as she helped him back to his room. He shuffled his way back in to the room. It was dark. As he slowly maneuvered his way back on to the bed, she walked over to the large window and pulled back the curtains.

The lights of the city seemed extremely dim as a stormy sky came rolling across the heavens. Almost as if the clouds were ocean waves crashing over top of the hospital. Small rain drops pelted against the window. “This rain reminds me of my days in the Navy.” She turned around from the window to see him laying in bed gazing out towards the horizon. She walked over to him and sat in the chair next to the bed. “So you were in the Navy huh? Well thank you for your service Mr. Johnson. I do greatly appreciate it”. He smirked, “There’s no need to thank me doc.”  “Mr. Johnson, I’ve told you this already, I’m not a doctor, I’m a Certified Nurses Assistant. We normally just say CNA.”  “Honey… Im an old sea dog… and in the military, you don’t need a piece of paper, or a fancy title to be called doc… it is given to anyone who has the heart to help and heal others.” Her smile returned to her face, it was hard to stay angry at him for trying to escape from bed.

“Well what is it about this rain that makes you remember the Navy?” He took his eyes off the horizon and looked down at her, catching her eyes for a quick second before returning to the skyline. “We were sailing through the Nordic Seas’s when we hit a bad storm. The rain was coming down similar to this, but then the seas became violent.” He pressed down on his lips; he slowly shook his head before a rough coughing session came over him. He cleared his throat, “It was the worst storm I have ever been in. He looked back at her, “To be honest, it scared me half to death.” He let out two small coughs and went back in to his thousand yard stare out the window.

Now intrigued by her patient, “What happened after the storm?”  He slowly smiled, a glimmer in his eye, “I found my sunshine…” He could not hold back his smile any longer, “And she cast out every storm in my life from that day forward.” A smile now matched her face, “O really? And what was Mrs. Johnson’s first name?” Clearing his throat, “Her name was Allie… and she was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. She was as special as an Orchid Flower, more special than that one over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room. She was surprised by its presence, for she couldn’t recall ever seeing it before. “There are over 70,000 types of Orchids known to mankind, yet I tell you… my Allie was more special and rare than them all.” He smiled and rolled his head on the pillow.

“Well, where is this amazing Mrs. Johnson at now? Will she be coming in tomorrow to visit?” She asked. The smile began to fade, with a slow shaking of his head. “No doc… Mrs. Johnson is no longer with us… she’s waiting for me up there…” Her heart sank. No wonder he felt so alone in this giant hospital. He returned to gazing out the window. “Well, I’m sure she is missing you as well Mr. Johnson.” Trying to cheer him up. “Hell…. She’s not gonna shut up until she tells me all the stuff that has gone on up there for these years we’ve been apart. She may be my ray of sunshine, but that woman sometimes dosen’t know when to stop talking.” She placed her hand over her mouth trying to hide the smile.

He looked down at her, “It’s ok doc. It’s suppose to be funny.” They locked eyes again as he winked to her. “But… yes… I long to see her again… “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith…”  She smiled and turned her head, “Hmm… someone likes his 2 Timothy I see.” He slightly nodded. It’s helped over the years… She reached up and grabbed his hand, “For those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength and they will soar on wings like eagles…”  She tightened her grip on his hand as she rose up out of the chair, “Try to get some sleep Mr. Johnson. I will come check on you in the morning when I come back on shift.”  She made her way to the door when she heard, “Thanks doc… You were a shining light in the midst of a dark storm.”  She smiled and walked out the door.

Returning to the nurses station and grabbing her bag to head home, “Everything ok with Mr. Johnson?” the other nurse asked. “Yeah… he was just having trouble sleeping with the storm.”  The other nurse nodded, “Oh, ok. Well I’ll be sure to check in on him throughout the night for you.” She began walking towards the elevator, “Thanks Abigale… have a great shift.”

She walked to her car, and sent a text message, “On my way home” starting the car she received a quick response, “Drive safe! Love you.” The whole ride home all she could think about was Mr. Johnson. His wife was gone, no children there to sit by his side, his friends had all passed away, and he was all that remained. In that moment when all he needed was someone there to comfort his lonely spirit, she was there. It was not about what medicine he needed. It was not about a procedure that was suppose to be done. It was about being there to comfort an old soul. A kind, compassionate heart; who simply spent a few moments listening.

She pulled in to the driveway. An old song that she had grown up with as a child came over the radio… “I can only imagine… what it will be like, when I walk… by your side…” Her phone buzzed. Reaching down and swiping the screen to read the message. “I’m sorry Annie… Mr. Johnson just passed away in his sleep.” Her eyes teared up, and though her heart sank, her spirit felt joy knowing Mrs. Johnson was holding on to her husband once again.

She walked in the door of her house and walked in to the kitchen, setting her stuff down on the counter. “What’s wrong baby?”  “I just found out Mr. Johnson passed away while I was driving home.” He put down the cooking utensils, “What can I do?” He walked over to her, looking up at him and locking eyes. “Just hold me.” He wrapped his arms around her as they spent the next few moments embracing each other.

This was just a normal night… a night spent trying to simply care for those who are hurting. No medicine can cure a broken heart. No procedure can fix the lonely spirit, but for Nurses and Doctors, they will do what they can, to help heal the broken hearted as well as the damaged body that encompasses it. Be sure to keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified, for the LORD your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” – Deuteronomy 31:6

Thoughts_ Renaissance Children

To the best of my memory… the house was technically three stories tall. There was The main door to the house, that connected the living room and dining room, and then the family room, laundry room and craft area was a sub floor down from that. The staircase was right in the middle of the house, and led you to the second floor where my room and my parents rooms were. You then took the second staircase up to the third floor where my brothers room and my dads office were located. Damn I loved that house.

The basement was a whole other story to tell. Dark, smelled weird, and that overall creepy feeling to it that haunted your dreams as a child. There was even this hole in the basement wall that led to another crawl space that seemed to go deep in to the heart of darkness. The depths of darkness to where you’d never return. For a short while the goal was to see how far back you could get before the fear took over you and you went crawling back in sheer terror towards the entrance way. The house was truly one of those 1990 TV sitcom kinda houses. I loved it.

Though we moved all the way to the opposite side of the country when I was five; I still fondly look back to those days and all the adventures I had in that gigantic house. Back then there was a lot of coloring books, hot wheels cars, and plastic army men, (That toy was an instant favorite). We built lego guns, and had these green army plastic helmets that we would wear. Multiple battles fighting invisible enemies, as the backyard picnic table was our classic tank and foxhole depending on the mission. Our rank structure was private, sergeant, captain, and finally general. For those of you familiar with military rank, we had a steep incline in our promotion capabilities back then. But when you’re 4 and 6 years old, you really didn’t know any better.

The arts and crafts area was always filled with moms projects. As a young kid you learned quickly that the hot glue gun is actually “hot”, and knowing mom and her projects it was more than likely always on. There was the sowing machine, and cross stitching items, then came the painting supplies and so on and so on.

Back then one of my favorite things to do was go in to the backyard, and on the East side of the yard was an old sandbox that had a large bench style lip to it. I use to lay on my back and just watch the clouds float by. It was a paradise to me back then. Lush green grass, a cool summer breeze blowing across my face… and a bright blue sky with soft billowing clouds drifting over head. I still wish I could go back to those days.

We always seemed to be at Church though as well. Dad was always filling bookshelves full with his latest collection of books, bibles, and other types of Christian media. Back then he had a larger staff to assist him, but as we continued on throughout our lives Dads’ staff got smaller and smaller, but the constant need for more work needing to be done got larger and larger. As the turn of the century came about a whole new wave of technology flowed with it. We no longer had cassette tapes with our favorite mix’s to share with friends. We then had CD’s and portable walkman’s and CD players with headphones.

Our old 8 in floppy disk were replaced with hard floppy disks, and then CD’s as well. Dad insisted I learn to play the trumpet, then the piano, and sing in church. That part of life wasn’t all to enjoyable. The drum set in my teen years did the trick though. 😉

In addition to all that we had the standard plays and skits at church. Our acting skills never materialized in to Academy Award performances. But we had to work hard at our memorization and use our creativity.

Though I hated reading at the time, there were a few books that caught my attention. The Sugar Creek gang was blessed off by my parents because it was a Christian author. I thought it was quite ironic that I couldn’t watch Ninja Turtles because they were violent, yet I was able to read a book series that constantly talked about kids getting in fist fights with other kids, and made the Scooby Squad look like The Girl Scouts. Then there was Choose Your Own Adventure, and finally the Left Behind Teen Series. I was hooked on those, and read them so fast that my parents finally stopped buying them for me because I read them in the same day.

My older brother was the more athletic one of the two of us. But, back then we were both terrible. However, we were in that competitive stage where we were playing basketball in the summer heat of California Desert. Our feet burned from the bottom of our soles melting on the hot pavement, and every 10 minutes or so we ran over to the garden hose, grabbed a drink and kept playing. Jordan with the fade away jumper for the win! *Swoosh.

I would later get a camera, and loved taking photos with it, but never had the confidence to do anything with it. That is until much later in life. In my teen years is when I found the joy in computers and video games like many other children, but my roots weren’t founded in them. My roots were founded in the fields surrounding the house we lived in on Hidalgo St. Where I was constantly off on a distant alien planet exploring, out in combat fighting off an evil enemy force, or defending the castle from invaders of the realm!

Arts, Crafts, Music, Reading, Writing, Playing Outside, Lego’s, GI Joe action figures…

Having an imagination and learning to be creative were all infused in my character from the very beginning. It was just yesterday were I was at work putting together handbooks for my fellow military members when I was mentally transported back in time, and I was once again at church helping mom and dad fold bulletins, or fold our mass mail newsletters for everyone. I had been prepared ever since my childhood for this moment, “I thought to myself”.

I couldn’t help but ponder the thought regarding the Renaissance Man… The Jack of all Trades… the Entrepreneur…. How often do we see ourselves just giving in to the norm of letting our kids and children vegetable out to video games and technology. They are consumed by being shown someone else story instead of adventuring outside to create their own. They watch a “book” or “story” being told to them before they ever sit down to read, or even write their own story.  Do we teach our kids to cook early on? To sow and stitch… to carve a piece of wood?  As I think back on my early life and childhood; I can’t help but think if we are encouraging our children to still have that childhood wonder and curiosity. Are we raising children that will follow whatever path they are told to follow, or will they blaze a trail of their own? Will we raise a generation of followers in the crowd, or will we raise Renaissance Children who always seek the mountain peaks of wonder.

Short_The Waitress

The old diner door swings open as the gentleman shuffles in from the cold winter morning. The gentleman continued on through the entrance and shuffled past the wooden sign with the printing, “Please wait to be seated.”

Oldies music played from the jukebox. The wooden decor gave it that feeling of the past… when things weren’t as complicated… when you didn’t talk to someone with a piece of paper framed on their wall, you simply talked to your buddy Joe during your weekend fishing trip, or the cup of coffee with Bob you had every Wednesday morning at this same diner.

He went over to the booth along the windows. Same booth, every time, never fails. “Good morning Bill! I’ll be right there with your coffee!” She came from around the corner. She reached over to the coffee pot and whisked it away. If you watched her you’d swear she didn’t walk, it was almost as if she just glided all over the diner.

She had dark silky hair, that was always tide up just high enough to see the sparkle of her earring she had picked out for that day. Her voice was soft, but always had this joy that propelled itself inside you. She leaned over just slightly with her hips. “How’s the day starting out for you Bill?”

The old man looked up at the beautiful young lady standing over him. “Well sweetie… it’s just another day.” “Well did you see Greg yesterday at your guys get together?” “O uhh, no… he hasn’t been feeling well. He caught that bug thats been going around.”  “O no! Well I hope he gets better soon!”

The door swung open with another elderly gentleman shuffling in. “Hey Todd! Sit wherever you want hun!” She looked back at Bill. “You want your…” He cut her off, “You know what I order sweetie… same old, same old.” She just smiled, “Ok.” She glided over to the other gentleman, grabbing a coffee mug off of the counter as she made her way, “Here you go Todd. Is Jamie joining you this morning?”  Todd wrapped both hands around his coffee mug… “Uhh no, no… she had to take care of the little ones this morning and canceled. But uhh, I figured I’d still come in anyways.” “Well you know you’re always welcome here hun.” She smiled as she lightly placed her hand on his shoulder as she glided past him and placed Bill’s order in to the chef. Todd’s wife had passed away 6 years ago. His daughter Jamie tried to meet him for breakfast once a week, but it didn’t always work out, as seen today.

It was like this with what seemed to be hundreds of customers. If she was having a bad day, you’d hardly know it, for she always carried her smile with her, and her kind hearted soft voice was an empathetic and sympathetic comfort to those that walked through the door during a depressing moment of life. Many of the older people simply didn’t have anywhere else to go. Their loved ones were gone, either moved away or past away, and only remained in their hearts and memories. She knew all of those memories as well though. The countless days of listening to stories retold, and emotions shared. She was not just their waitress. She was their listening ear when they felt that no one else would listen to them. To many of them she became their adopted daughter, and they always wanted to know about her day. She was an uncertified therapist, but don’t tell them that… because she had just as many hours listening to people share their life problems, and every week they would discuss the updates and progress they had made.

To some she was an angel in the darkness. It’s incredible to watch and see when you actually look and see it for yourself. Some may look and see her, and only think of her as their waitress who brings them their food. But in reality she is so much more. For the kindness and sincerity of her heart is what made her not just a waitress. Sometimes you never know how far a smile will go, not just for you, but to those that receive that smile. She’s not just the person who brings you your food. She’s the example of how we all should also try to be like. Carrying, considerate, but mostly loving. That is who your waitress is.

Thoughts_Until Valhalla

Thoughts

Until Valhalla

The fire place had died down by that time, as I sat on the couch. The few pops and cracks whipped through the room as the last remaining embers glowed from it. Christmas Eve of 2017. I had returned from seeing someone near and dear to my heart, my father had already turned in for the evening; as my mother stayed up to spend some time talking to me.

“Teej, I have always wondered something with the way you talk about your fallen military members. You refer to this, “Valhalla” and say things like, “I will see you in Valhalla” why do you reference this place next to the thought of heaven?” It was a good question. One that I had not been asked yet, but figured it was going to come up sooner or later. “For many of these fallen military members, you’ve never met them… so why is this Valhalla so significant to you?”

Jacobson, Norton, McElroy, Chavis, Self, Nathan, Griffin, Helton, Alden, Lobraico, Ruiz, Sartain, Lemm, Bonacasa… 14 Security Forces Airmen killed in action since the War On Terror started. 14 brothers and sisters… taken away… gone… but never forgotten.

In Norse mythology… Valhalla was the place that all Viking warriors longed to go to. They believed that those who died gloriously in battle would be found worthy by the god Odin, to be brought in to the halls of Valhalla, that there they would be met with all their fellow warriors throughout the ages. They would be met with loud rejoicing, and reunited with those they once fought alongside. There they would spend eternity in paradise, amongst the select and elite warriors who have known the hell that is battle.

I looked at my mother for a moment, as I had been gazing in to the fire place.

I believe in Heaven, and I know who my Savior and God is. Hence why I always say that it is about the personal relationship with Jesus, and never the attendance towards the religion. Through my time spent in my relationship with God, I truly believe that He, has called certain people to certain professions. He has designed people to perform certain tasks that some could not ever do, or perform. So yes, I believed he has called many people to be warriors, and to face the darkness and evil of this world, and to face hell on earth, to preserve all that is good. For me, I love the idea of Valhalla… a place where warriors will be ruined, throughout time and space… So when I think of Valhalla… I think of a special place inside of Heaven, that God has built for those he has called to be warriors.

I hope to be brought to this hall once I am there, that God may say, your brothers and sisters are awaiting you. I look forward to the moment when those doors are opened, and I see Travis, and Elizabeth, and can finally hug them and tell them of all that I have seen, of their families and all those who still speak their names.

Until that day, I may never see battle or combat… my life may never be in the grave danger that theirs once was… nor will my life ever be perfect, or truly the best that it can be… but… I hope that my life may…

“Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Stand brave and upright, that the Lord may love thee. Speak the truth always, even if it means your death. Protect the helpless and do no wrong.”

I will speak their names, till my last breathe, for their sacrifice is a story that I am compelled to tell, over and over again. They will never be away from me, for their stories  and names are forever in my heart. For in this they may be gone, but they are NEVER FORGOTTEN…. UNTIL VALHALLA MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS….. UNTIL VALHALLA!