Sunrising...

Yo', the Sun is coming.

Truth.

Winter sunrises are so nice because the dark of winter nights is so awful. Up at 5:30am each morning, I wander downstairs and open the living room blinds. In summer, this is a glorious moment, the sun is already kissing the rooftops, the Muskoka chairs are glistening with fresh dew, the tree swing invariably has a playful squirrel or two flitting about on it, the lawn flashes its emerald green-ness like a wide-mouthed grin, birds chirp and all is well with the World.

Not this time of year.

Nor this time of life.

Man, SUCH a brutal year we're having. It's been almost crazy. I don't want to go into details 'cause I find it tiresome, and realize these kind of online posts can 'read' as so 'self-indulgent' and navel-gazing from where you sit, dear reader.

I'm FB'ed out. Twitted out. Even IG is starting to bug me. Food, hot girls, cars, and travel destinations, that's it. Sick of it.

I've stopped listening to current pop music on the radio 'cause it's so annoying. I tell myself this means that I'm getting old. I remember my parents listening to the same classical and jazz stations I tend to go to these days when they were my age and I was sitting in the back of their cars.

See, there are no inane lyrics ('All I wanted was to break your walls...") in classical and instrumental jazz. Phew.

Funny how I had NO idea how hard their lives were. I wonder if my kids know what mine is like?

There's a curious balance there. I want to be honest with them about the process of living but certainly don't want them dealing with the same kind of stress I'm dealing with 'cause, after all, they're still kids and deserve to be ignorantly happy a little longer, no?

This morning, as I prepped breakfast and school/work departure, I found myself wondering if they'll remember me as always grumpy and stressed. This is not good. I need to work at finding true happiness and sitting down into it more often and consistently. Soon enough they're bound to make the connection between my unhappiness and the pressures of father-hood and it's only a hop skip and a jump from there to, "Well, gee, it must be my fault..."

Sadness all around me. Divorces, bankruptcies, sickness, death, cancer, misery, infidelity, greed, hopelessness, abuse, loneliness, aimlessness, selfishness, vendetta, pride, entitlement, waste, inertia.

Oyyyy.

It hit me in the car today that the whole "If you don't introduce someone to Jesus before the age of 18, you've lost them..." thing might be TOTALLY wrong. It seems to me that you don't really know ANYTHING about life 'till your late 30's (or whenever it is that you've lived long enough to truly suffer) and, from watching my own life, and those of the people around me, I think you might be more receptive than EVER to the hope of the Jesus-story, in your middle-age, 'cause--dang--but life sure 'aint offering much in and of itself anymore.

It's like life is all speed bumps these days; rapid ups and downs.

BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP.

Like, the other night, after a BRUTAL day of insecurity and stress, I come home after my run, looked at the two vehicles in my driveway (neither of which paid off yet) and I'm overcome with gratefulness. Each vehicle is the one I *always* wanted growing up. So I stood there, all sweaty and swaddled in many layers against the winter night, and I raised my arms Heavenward (literally) and vocally (literally) blessed the Lord of Hosts for His goodness.

These weird spontaneous outbursts of thanksgiving are happening more often lately, and it's definitely NOT because my 'external circumstances' are super-awesome or anything.

Maybe this is 'godliness'. I've certainly preached that it is. Thanksgiving. Being truly, honestly, simply grateful for everything, moment by moment.

Perhaps that's how you answer the constant barrage of bumps and sorrow; with a constant barrage of praise and thanksgiving.

I realize some people think I'm crazy believing this stuff. To them I would love to say, "So how's YOUR friggin' life-system working out for you? Are you happier than me? More peaceful than me? Do you spontaneously worship in your driveway because you own two Hondas?"

(I always want to lace a few expletives into these tirades but you never know when my Mother--who I love--or some 'church people'--not so much--might be listening in. It'd sound better with 'em in there though. Feel free to insert them yourself, in your mind)

I'm married 17 years this Christmas. I've known her 20. She's only 37 and I'm 39. We've been together longer than we've been apart. I'll shout about THAT from my driveway or the freakin' ROOFTOPS whichever is closer. My four kids are turning into people, with gifts, quirks, strengths and weaknesses. I'm twenty years in on one side of my career (the Preacher side) and 15 on the other (the Producer side). Have I 'achieved' all my goals? Certainly not. Have I wasted my time? Also, not.

My friend has a family member who may die this week at a VERY (grossly) young age. Thinking about him lying there waiting to die was super-sobering for me this week. I thought to myself, would I have REGRETS if I was to die this week? Honestly, the first answer that came to mind was, yes, I would. But then I thought about it, reflecting on what more I could be doing other than what I'm currently doing. The answer was, not much. A little, a few tweaks here and there, but not much.

So, here I sit, still doing what I've always done.

Waiting for the Sunrise.

T