carbonated joy

I have a confession to make. I feel like such a baby for saying this…
The last few weeks I’ve had baby arms (not to be confused with baby neck, that’s totally different).
I don’t know if you realize this, I’ve been pretty quiet about it, but Diana and me are new grandparents. It’s true! We are seriously loving it! But, now I have baby arms.
Our granddaughter spends at least one night with us a week. She has slept all night in my arms more than once, and then, during the day I hold her…constantly.
Don’t judge me or tell me that I’m spoiling the child. I’m a first time grandpa who happens to think that spoiled is something that happens to cottage cheese, not sweet little granddaughters.
Anyway, I hold her a lot!
She is just a little 13 pound love nugget, but I’m not used to constantly cradling such preciousness.
And, my arms hurt real bad.
I’m not used to it, so it has stretched me and left me sore.
Now I feel like a T-Rex with limited motor skills.
I’ve consumed Advil and slathered myself in Bengay.
And, my arms still hurt real bad.
Sometimes love hurts.
I’m okay with that, it’s worth it!!
When we find new ways to love, it stretches us.
I talked to a buddy of mine who has a background in sports medicine (because baby holding should be a semi-competitive sport, right?) He told me that I need to stretch. WHHAA? Wait a minute…stretching is what hurt me in the first place. Right?!! It turns out that if stretching messes you up, then you can help the healing by stretching some more…crazy, huh?
It turns out that anytime you do something you haven’t done in a while, it can hurt. The answer is not stopping, it’s stretching!!
When we find new ways to love, it stretches us.
It’s worth it!!
Pain will become poetry, but first it’s going to hurt.
Keep stretching!!

Life is different up in the cheap seats, up where the air is thinner, up where you are just grateful to be in the stadium, up where it’s an effort to find your seat. It’s a hike!
Sometimes, we feel like we are destined to spend our lives in the cheap seats. We watch the fortunate souls in the suites or the box seats, and we think, “what a waste!! I SHOULD be sitting there!”
But, what if we are meant to be in the cheap seats. It’s not an accident. It’s where we belong. That is where we find our people, that is where we find our perspective.
The cheap seats give you a unique view, the opposition looks smaller.
The crowd is different, they are wilder and not afraid to have some fun. They wave their foam fingers in the air and loudly declare their allegiance. Their life has been affected by what happens in the stadium, they aren’t afraid to let everyone know.
It’s easy to start something up in the cheap seats, whether it be the wave or a fight. People are looking for something to shout about. It’s easy to make friends as long as you aren’t looking down on them.
You have to realize that the fans are just as passionate in the cheap seats as the suite dwellers, maybe even more passionate. Life has just taken them to a different seat.
Life is good up in the cheap seats.
So at the risk of a nosebleed, I’m going up high, up where my problems seem smaller and the people around me are quicker to laugh.
Give me a minute, it takes a while to climb up the bleachers.

Participation trophies get a bad rap.
I’ve heard them held up as everything that is wrong about a generation.
It’s time I come clean…I like participation trophies.
As a strikingly unathletic individual, I have received a few trophies I didn’t deserve.
As a strikingly flawed human being, I have received grace I didn’t deserve.
But, participation trophies get a bad rap.
I mean, C’MON!!! We are Americans for crying out loud!!! We value competition over charity!!
Participation trophies smell too much like grace. As long as we are winning, we prefer justice over mercy.
But…
Participation matters.
Sometimes the hardest thing in life is just showing up. It takes commitment and courage to show up everyday and do what you have to do.
Some people deserve a trophy everyday…
The young parent who goes without sleep and takes care of a helpless little human. The older parent who goes without sleep while waiting for their teenager to make it home, literally and figuratively. The unappreciated employee who works nonstop for another person’s vision. Everyone who gives and lives and puts self on hold. Everyone who does something no one else wants to do.
They show up.
Even when it’s hard.
They participate everyday.
Give them a trophy.
Participation matters.
It says I was a part.
Not everyone can be #1, somebody has to be #2. (NOBODY wants to be #2) Sometimes the simple act of participating is a humbling thing. It’s sharing the spotlight, it’s surrendering the spotlight.
You do things that you aren’t personally passionate about.
But, if you participate in enough things, you will eventually find your primary thing. You participate until you can pursue.
Participation opens the door for passion.
Participation trophies speak loud.
They say…
I showed up.
I was a part of a team.
Participation matters.
So…
Show up!
Smile at your teammates.
AND, hold your participation trophy high!!

I watched the Moonpie discover her hands again this morning. She is fascinated by her fingers!! And just like that she teaches me that one of the keys to joy is the continual choice to rediscover what has always been there.

Gather around the campfire, I have a story to tell about a campfire that took up residence in me…

It’s a Ghost story and I assure you it’s completely true…
I first met the Ghost in a creaky old farm house in West Texas. The house had once been a family home, but that was many years ago. Now, it was in serious need of a paint job. There were large insects and rumors of creepy snakes. It was the perfect place to put a bunch of kids. It was there that I experienced a Ghost encounter. I had heard others tell Ghost stories, I had occasionally sensed a presence. But, when I turned to look, there was nobody there. That day was different, a seasoned Ghost-hunter named Jeanette kindly prayed that I would know the Ghost…and it happened! I met Him. This Ghost doesn’t scare me, in fact He helps me conquer my fear.
It’s crazy that my biggest source of comfort is a Ghost. Everyday I hear the Ghost, He gently whispers to me, “you are bigger than you think you are, you have experienced the indwelling of the infinite. You are a habitat for the Holy.” He assures me that I’m never alone. He tells me the truth and tells me which way to go.
I’ve learned to listen to the Ghost.
Some people have acted as self appointed Ghost busters. They deny the presence of the Ghost or they say that He hasn’t been seen in years. But, I know the truth…
The Ghost is real…
He is my friend.