20 Years...Really?

On the morning of my 20 year High School reunion, I awoke at 6:30am, which is a luxury in and of itself these days, and as I walked into the bathroom to shower and start the day, my first thought when looking in the mirror was, "I don't look old, do I?"  I know it doesn't feel like it's been twenty years since I graduated High School but the calendar doesn't agree.  How did this happen?  It's all been such a blur.  First there was graduation in that hot stuffy gym at what was once West Georgia College, then some college here and there sandwiched between Spring Breaks, a job interview, a first date, a wedding, a birth or two (four in some cases), some soccer games, and now this reunion.  It all seems to have been a blip on the radar when one looks back on the last twenty years.

As most men over 30 years old, I have a very distorted self image.  No matter how old I get, how bald I get, or how fat I get, to me, I think I've still got "IT".  I not really sure that I really ever had "IT"when I was 17 or 18, but I am convinced that no matter what it was, it's still there.  At least I have grown wiser in the last 20 years and for the fact alone, I will not try to stuff my self into clothing that I once wore in High School; God bless those of you who still can.  But tonight is not about who we used to be or what we used to look like or act like.  It's not about who's succeeded and who's failed.  It's not about who has and who has not.  No, tonight is about renewing old friendships, looking at photographs of kids and families, meeting spouses for the first time, and reminiscing about the good old days before mortgages and orthodontist bills clouded our thoughts.  Tonight is about taking inventory of our lives from the past 20 years and appreciating the journey, both the good and the bad, that has shaped our lives and made us who we are today.  Grey hairs, extra chins, and wrinkles are just the currency of experience.

Tonight, I get to spend some time with a brother from another mother that I have not seen or, until a couple weeks ago, talked to in over 12 years after we'd been almost inseparable for the better part of a decade.  We got into a huge argument in college over nothing in particular and never spoke again until just a few weeks ago.  We missed each others weddings and the sharing in the joy of the birth of each others' children over an argument I can't even remember.  Through the wonders of Facebook, I friended his sister who gave me his cell phone number; I sat on it for months.  Then one day I was driving home and God just told me to call him, so I did and instead of the call being awkward, it was huge relief of a burden I had carried in my heart for over 12 years.  God is good and he's got a good plan for us.  I'm looking forward to meeting his wife tonight and hearing their story and about their kids; I've got 12 years to catch up on.  Tonight is going to be a good night.

Twenty years where have you gone?  I guess once we take inventory of our lives it will be easier to chronicle those years and understand how they seem to fold away into the wrinkles of our lives.  For tonight, I'm just looking forward to seeing all of these old friends.  I'm looking forward to seeing Cheri and Meredith in person after living vicariously through their week of Facebook posts.  I look forward to thanking Renee for all her hard work in organizing this event.  I hope I get an opportunity to see Mrs. Cetti and complain one more time about that Senior Project that was tougher than anything I ever did in college!  Ha!  It will be fun to see who married whom and what everyone else has been doing with their lives this past 20 years.  Maybe tonight when I get home and look into that mirror again, I'll have the answer to my predawn question, but it really doesn't matter insomuch as the journey has been worth every lost follicle.

Bad day, good night

I had a bad day. Another fourteen hour work day full of problems and complications, no breakfast or lunch, and I couldn't even break away long enough to use the restroom until I left at 6:30pm. All day I had waited on a phone call that never came. Even the things that break the grind of the day seemed to be another source of frustration. By the time I made it to the car for my hour and half commute, I was exhausted, dejected, and out of patience. The perfect remedy for that is, of course, Atlanta traffic.

I hit the road and dialed up a year old podcast that I recently downloaded from the Pastor at our Church. For the first half hour I listened to the teaching and cruised down 85 South without incident, but as I got closer and closer to downtown, the traffic started to increase and with it my frustration. So here I am listening to Pastor Tony teach about the Word and the only sound interrupting that teaching was my voice barking at unsuspecting motorists to “Friggin Move!”. Okay, I cleaned that up, but you get the point. The more I drove, the more frustrated I got and the more I lashed out and interrupted Pastor Tony with my outbursts of anger interspersed with the occasional verbal affirmation of his preaching. Sad, I know. By the time, I hit the Liberty Road, I was in a tizzy; this sort of self-created fit of anger and frustration and my language was horrible. I wanted to wash my own mouth out with soap.

Pulled into the driveway at 8pm to realize that it's Cheerleading night and no one else is home yet, which means no dinner prepared and most likely a few piles of surprise from the German Shepherd. Now I'm mad. In my mind, I'm questioning why I work so hard when it is seemingly play time for everyone else in the household. Why do I work 14 hour days and the wife only works 24 hour WEEKS? My anger and frustration had found a new target. By the time I cut the lights on in the kitchen, I was creating arguments in my head that I wanted to have with her. You know how you have these little mini-arguments in your head where you are both people at the same time? I even had her replies and my retorts going back in forth in my head and I had an answer for everything. I was winning. I was so angry at her that I was just shaking. I was so mad and she wasn't even home yet! I could feel my face getting hot and the heat coming off my bald head. I opened the refrigerator to find a whole bunch of nothing and the cupboards contained the same thing. I thought, “You work three 8 hour days, the least you could do is keep some semblance of food in this house so that when I get home from work I can finally eat something.” If you know me, you know I'm not starving or anything approximating malnourishment, but you could not have convinced me of that at this particular moment.

When you're 6'5” and roughly 330lbs, your fits are loud. I stomped off towards the front door with what sounded like a herd of buffalo in tow. I stepped out into the cool night air and I heard something in me say “You know what this is don't you”, “This is someone letting you know that no matter how much you think you've changed that they still have a foothold in your heart.” The anger and the venom I had been spewing for the last hour or so came from my heart; it's the only place it can come from. Here I was having the teaching of the Word going into my ears, but my heart was full of filth. The worst part is that I was completely oblivious to the struggle going on within myself. My head and my heart were in direct conflict and the filth and crud in my heart was winning.

A couple deep breaths and a conscious decision to change my heart and the anger was gone and the frustrations of the day that once seemed so important were now trivial. I had heard stories about how God keeps on loving you even when you're not at your best or when you're letting the crud still left in your heart rule your thoughts and emotions, but I had never experienced it until tonight. Just then I saw the lights of the rogue cheerio laden Tahoe sweep into the driveway and my heart, now quiet, welled up with joy and happiness. The woman who had been the target of my venom was now wondering why I was standing in the driveway smiling like a giant dufus. The kids rolled out of the car and they couldn't care less why I was smiling, they just wanted to love on Daddy, good day or bad, they have no prerequisites or conditions to satisfy and their love is the best. Now I understand why He loves me, good days or bad, unconditionally, with crud or without. It's the best kind of love.