Challenges, Surprises and Joys

The last day of the year 2010.  Along with the rest of the world, I too find myself looking ahead to the coming year and asking: What surprises, challenges and joys await me in 2011? 

The first surprise, challenge & joy will be when I become a parent for the first time - hooray!  Sometime within the time frame of January or early February, Rebecca and I will be welcoming baby Long to our family.  Are we ready?  Am I ready?  Everyone says you're never ready - and I agree - but there is a substantial part of me that disagrees, purely out of the excitement I have towards meeting our child in a few short weeks. Of course, the surprise of the gender looms - which has been cause for much curiosity and anticipation between Rebecca and I and everyone else. Many a person have shared with us their theory or Old Wives tale - which, I must admit, has added much intrigue. But, in the end, boy or girl, no one knows - it's all been just happy guessing. So, as it was nine months ago, we'll all just keep waiting to welcome 2011 surprise number one.  As a result of waiting to find out, I hope this decision to exercise patience and mystery dwelling will enable me to weather the surprises ahead in the coming year.  I've said it all along, life could always use a bit more 'mystery acceptance' - knowing the answers to everything isn't what life's goal should ever be.  I enjoy a good detective story as much as the next guy, but my experience has taught me to appreciate and respect the unknown; doing so can add so much more enjoyment and peace, even when the world says the opposite. 

As far as upcoming challenges...hmmm, let me think.... Well, there is the upcoming birth of our first child.  That might provide some challenge.  Rebecca's pregnancy has been a relatively smooth one, but the closer we get to the due date, the more freak out episodes arise for both of us. Like cramming for a test, we've been hitting the books these last 9 months, learning all we can about the do's, don't's and whatever's of pregnancy health, labor and delivery. It kind of feels like preparing for your driver's license test.  It's not only head knowledge you need to know, but you've got to be able to perform under the pressure - a passing score is only half of it, you have to be able to steer your vehicle and keep you and your test examiner safe.  My general attitude is that no matter what, we will pass the test and this baby will be born.  I expect to miss a few turns, forget to use my blinker and make a few rolling stops - but I know we will do "good enough" to bring this baby out of the womb and into our arms at last.  So, am I ready?  Three words: bring it on. (Although I cannot speak for Rebecca!)  All in all, I fluctuate between scared, anxious and excited for the labor and delivery process. The same feeling holds true for what happens NEXT - being a father.

I know there will be many surprises and challenges ahead, but nothing is more comforting and exhilarating than expecting to become a father for the first time.  The amount of joy that will accompany parenthood outweighs all of the other stuff waiting and lurking in the shadows of 2011. Labor and delivery prep aside, I've been spending an equal amount of time preparing for being a Dad.  I've been fully engrossed in the pages of my first parenting book called "SuperBaby" by Dr. Jenn Berman.  So far, it has provided plenty of information, mistakes, things to avoid, things to try and things to aim for in the first 3 years of life.  I've felt challenged, annoyed, overwhelmed and excited soaking up the author's research, suggestions and advice. Her goal is not for you to form some kind of "uberbaby," but rather, desires the reader to be opened to the many possibilities and pitfalls that accompany all young persons' development.  The book reminds me of the distinct calling and privilege it is to parent, mentor, minister to and form meaningful relationships with children. I may not do everything the book suggests, but I do hope to be the best father I can for my child as he/she continues to learn, learn, learn throughout their life-long journey. This learning and growing for all of us continues to inspire, comfort and provide the purest type of joy I've ever experienced.  

As I reflect on 2010 and all that I have learned, how much I've grown (or digressed) and where my paths might be leading, intersecting and turning for me in 2011, I feel confident in the assurance of God's presence throughout it all.

Happy New Year!

Kicking Cars

It is no secret that this winter has already dumped an insane amount of snow on the state of Minnesota. Snow has never really bothered me all that much (except for the type of snow which crunches underfoot, which makes me cringe like fingernails on a chalkboard.) It's the bitter cold temps that get me most upset. And yet, I must confess, without the combination of cold and snow, I would be robbed of a secret winter passion: kicking the ice chunks off of the underbelly of cars and wheel wells. There is no describing the surge of enjoyment I receive from dislodging a large, hard mass of ice and snow from the corners of a vehicle. I find myself lighting up whenever I see a car in need of a good kicking. In fact, I love this so much that I continually fight off the temptation to take care of other people's ice flaps, restraining myself only because of how ridiculous I'd look and that they might enjoy the act as much as I do.  I know I am not alone in this peculiar activity. When I stop to think about it all, it's really quite silly. I mean, it's not uncommon for me to practically injure myself in the process - some of those ice zits are really plastered onto cars - and yet, it's a challenge I've never turned down. And, now that I think of it, it's not only car ice I enjoy breaking apart - it's all ice.  Give me an ice chipper and a driveway or sidewalk full of ice, and I am good to go.  That reminds me of a time when I needed tools to take care of a car infected with ice-itis - the entire wheel well was stuffed... that was a great moment in my ice-breaking career. 

I am willing to offer my ice-breaking services to you this winter, should you make the arduous haul out to Dawson.  But, in the event that I don't see you or cross paths with your ice-infested vehicle, God Bless you in all your travels and your own car kicking adventures.

Merry Christmas!

Sincerely,
Keith "The Ice Breaker" Long

The Blizzard

This past weekend, "Old Man Winter" assured us Minnesotans that he can still pack quite a punch. And I thought the Christmas Eve storm last year was bad... Most of us will probably remember this year's bruising blizzard as the storm that conquered the Metrodome.  Yes, this storm proved too much for that unmistakable white puff roof we're so accustomed to seeing in the Minneapolis skyline.  And yes, this storm postponed the Vikings game and provided additional media fodder of the Vikings' season, one amazing collapse after another (See also "Brett Favre," "Brad Childress," etc.)  But as for me, in addition to the Fall of Dome, I will also look back on this weekend's blizzard with fondness, for in spite of the blizzard's ability to freeze a town like Dawson in place for 24 hours, it was also the occasion of one of the most intense walks in recent memory.

In the mood for some adventure, Rebecca and I bundled up and prepared to brace ourselves for a two mile (round trip) walk from our apartment to church. This meant I would be happily reunited with my one-piece blue snowsuit courtesy of Grandpa Doidge - a new favorite winter outfit of yours truly. As for Rebecca, she too was breaking out a favorite winter apparel item: her light blue "puff coat" as she so endearingly refers to it. Warm and hermetically sealed - leaving only the skin around our eyes exposed - we embarked on our journey.

By far the easiest leg of the trip was from our apartment to church - a stretch which took us straight south, with the wind at our backs for most of the walk. Despite the cold temperature and blowing snow, we encountered little to no difficulty - save for a few wind zones in which walking backward was necessary to avoid wind-burning the corneas. The best part of the walk was when a 40 mph wind gust hit us square in the back, launching us forward with the same intensity as the 'Metrodome wind tunnel effect' whenever you exited the stadium. You could always look forward to that feeling, win or lose.

As far as our return trip back to the apartment - well, that was when we got to experience the full impact of this blizzard. Walking into the wind 90% of the way home was, in a word, awesome. We knew exactly where we needed to go, so the fear factors were on the extreme low end. We employed a 'trust-walk' strategy where I walked backwards out in front of Rebecca, facing her in order to block the wind. This allowed for Rebecca sneak glances around me to see where we needed to go. We held hands while walking this way, which kept us stable, confident and connected. There was one miscue in which I fell backwards over a snowdrift - no doubt giving the ONE driver we encountered all day a pretty good chuckle. But, we made it injury and frostbite free. Man, feeling the force of that wind was definitely a highlight. Talk about whiteout conditions though - I don't know how a person could drive in a storm like that. It was just kind of fun to get in a little adventure before retreating to the confines of the apartment for the remainder of the storm.

I can definitely understand why there are "storm-chasers" in this world. As often as I've scoffed and scorned such people for their audacity to risk putting themselves in harm's way - like hurricane force winds and whatnot, there is something to be said about human vs. nature scenarios like this blizzard walk which kind of give me an adrenaline high. Now granted, we were in "harm's way" in a very, very low risk situation, it's not as though we were climbing through waist-high snow drifts both ways or anything - but feeling the wind at your back like that, wow - that's something I'll never forget.

Again, I am not suggesting you all go out amidst a Minnesota blizzard and try your hand at power walking for pleasure. Rather, I suggest you don't let old man winter keep you locked up all season - find some kind of outdoor activity and get out there and face the elements - even if its the grueling task of snow shoveling. There is something unusually satisfying about having survived and thrived during these frigid Minnesota winters. I mean, without our crazy weather patterns, we natives would have absolutely nothing to say to one another! What do people in Arizona possibly have to talk about?  It's December 13th and there is already two feet of snow of the ground. Looks like we're in for a lot of talking over the next three months. Bring it on. 

Hands

Recently, I have found myself transfixed upon human hands in a new, albeit, weird way. Whether it's shaking hands at church or placing them on my wife's pregnant belly, I have first of all come to realize two characteristics about my own hands that I find kind of unsettling. The first is that my hands are freezing most of the time. Is my blood circulation that bad?  I don't know, but my hands are embarrassingly cold. I am always apologizing for my cold hands - which is often in my line of work as a Pastor. Cold hands are never a good thing, even in the summer when the temps are much higher. I've even thought about getting those hand-warmers that we used to keep in our pockets in the winter months - you know, always keep one in my pocket should I anticipate a receiving line or peace-sharing moment arise.  I hate my cold hands. Secondly, I have noticed that my handshake is a tad on the dainty and feeble side of the Grip-o-meter.  Granted, it's not the dreaded limp grip, but I've noticed my hand feeling absolutely crushed on more than one occasion over the last three months. Is it because of the higher population of farmers and hands-on laborers in this area?  Perhaps.  I mean, when you work outdoors and with heavy equipment for a living, its no wonder that your hands develop into calloused, vice-grip-like instruments of squeeze. But, cold and dainty?  Really?  I have a sudden desire to start strengthening my grip by pumping iron with that hand squeeze device my grandpa used to have laying around the house.

Aside from shaking and clasping, I've really noticed people's hands when placing the body of Christ into them during Communion.  There isn't much time to connect with someone when distributing the bread or the wine, so I usually find myself taking notice of two things: their eyes and their hands.  But sometimes, people aren't looking at me, so all I get are their outstretched hands to connect with.  This is how I've started my fascination with hands.  Our hands have no doubt seen, felt and experienced every thing over the course of our lives. I've encountered missing fingers, dirt and grime encrusted hands and big, beefy I-could-kill-a-bear-with-my-bare-hands kind of hands. Some hands are old and frail and others are tiny and innocent. Palms can be sweaty or rough while some are smooth.  As mentioned, some hands are warm and others frigid, and some are comforting while others are threatening. Some hands communicate weakness, while others shout strength and power.  I admit, I've had a bit of hand envy from time to time. But, all in all, what is most interesting about our hands is that I know they hold so much of who we are in them - they embody and reflect what we do, where we've been and how we interact with one another.

As I reflect upon our hands, a well-known story from the life and hands of Jesus emerges. Coming to mind is the story of Thomas, who, unfairly in my opinion, has been deemed "doubting Thomas." Upon hearing of Jesus' resurrection, he demands to touch with his own hands, the wounds Jesus has sustained in his crucifixion - otherwise, he will not believe: "Then Jesus said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." John 20:27  Talk about our hands telling a story!  Both Jesus' wounded hands and Thomas' uncertain hands connect in what is by far one of the coolest hand-exchanges of all time.  Yes, our hands hold a tremendous amount of memory and story and serve as the extensions of God in a troubled world, as my sister-in-law Christine in South Africa can attest.  In my case, I've learned that regardless of my hands' weakness or temperature, they continue to help define who I am and how I choose to connect with others on this journey of faith and doubt, in sorrow or in joy.

May God continue to bless your hands to be a blessing for all the hands you come in contact with this holiday season and beyond.

PS: Don't forget to wash your hands! Clean hands are happy hands.