I don't want my pacifier. I want my daddy

If you're not a Daddy, or even a parent, this is going to seem sophomoric, juvenile, or just plain childish or dumb. That's OK.

But if you've ever witnessed a child who uses a pacifier, this might be relatable.

We all know that children get cranky, fussy, lonely, or just plain unhappy at times. Sometimes, the solution is as simple as something to suck on - thank God for oral fixations!

To some extent, it may be a cop-out, a quick fix, or even a bad habit. But to the extent that it's just helpful, I propose this/these thought(s).

My twins are very similar, and very different. Namely, my son does not use a pacifier, and my daughter does.

While both need comforting at different and similar times, my daughter almost never goes to bed without her pacifier. More to the point, when she wakes up/cries-in-her sleep, she almost never goes back to sleep without her pacifier.

It's not too bad of a lesser evil to accept, especially since A) she and her brother and her parents and anyone else in the house get to sleep and B) pacifiers have come a long way to minimize such concerns as dental impact, etc. These are very good things! Kendra and I did decide that we would not use pacifiers when they were awake past a certain age, but for sleeping, we're pretty OK with Willow using hers.

I would say both kids require about the same amount of tending to, and both have substantial ability to self-pacify and get back to sleep for many of their nighttime interruptions. Typical issues such as breathing issues when sick, poopy diapers, noises, etc. are dealt with on a case-by-case basis. When the kids are just awake and won't go back to sleep no matter what, well, that's another issue entirely. And usually, a little attention, some water (or, when they were younger, some milk) and they're back off to kiddie la-la-land.

There is something special though about a child that can, at times or usually, be pacified with a rubber sucker.

Willow will often times find her own pacifier, put it in her mouth, and drift happily off to sleep. We are VERY thankful for this! And sometimes she has gas (she is very sensitive to gas....) and needs some physical movement to get it out.

And then, sometimes, she just wants to be held.

Mommy tends to most of the daily activities, being that Daddy needs go work (go to work for the first chunk of their lives, and work from home in this most recent season of life), and cannot take naps, go to bed early, sleep late, etc. so Daddy tends to be the one who responds at night. This coupled with weaning and the fact that Mommy tends to have some difficulty getting back to sleep sometimes, I just decided I would take on as many of these little visits as possible.

Well, tonight, or this morning, when my daughter kept crying out, it wasn't just Willow who needed a hug.

I had been up for about an hour. I had allowed myself to drift back off to sleep, but knew I had issues on my mind, so my lucid half sleep was more disturbing than being awake or being fully asleep. I woke up and started confessing through my issues with my Daddy.

I tend to feel pretty down and alone in these times of confession. Not so much confession of 's'ins, but more the 'S'ins of my greater existence, of mankind in general, of my father and forefathers, etc. In particular, I wrestle with the notion of suffering, God's design for life, and the definition (/tendancy/statistical norm/etc) of heroic or at least "good and faithful servant" living. And how hard it is for me to consistently embrace such a lifestyle, even if I have managed some short stints from time to time.

I struggle that it is God's design for man to excel in suffering. I struggle that there is grace for us to fail, or just not strive/succeed. I struggle with the notion that I could be doing so much better if I just applied myself (was true when they kept me back in first grade, on every report card since, and in almost every job review of my adult life.) Sometimes this process is more woeful than others. Today it was just honest an a little mournful, but not despairing.

And then Willow cried out for the third or fourth time, without fading back off to peaceful tranquility, so I went in to give her the pacifier.

It was lying right there beside her head. I figured she was just too groggy to find it or look for it, so I tried to nuzzle it into her mouth. She refused, and kept fussing. She wasn't getting up and reaching for me, or fighting me, she just wouldn't let me put it in her mouth (you know, the way women won't let you help them sometimes because it's just not the result they want... but I digress...)

I knew that if I picked her up, she would relax, and most likely, I could put the pacifier in her mouth, and put her back down, like so many times before. But this time, when I picked her up, and felt her arms try to reach around my shoulders to fully appreciate my presence, I began to weep.

I could hear Willow in her yet non-existent verbal style say "I didn't want a pacifier. I wanted my Daddy."

I realized how much I wanted my Daddy.

I sobbed for a few moments, then stopped when Wilder stirred (comforting two children at 4 a.m. while being comforted yourself is NOT an undertaking I recommend for the feinting of heart!)

I put Willow down, who peacefully took a few puffs at her pacifier, and drifted off to blissful baby sleep land, and went over to Wilder's crib. I thought about doubling my blessing, and sharing it with him too! by picking him up and holding him for a moment, but decided against it when he didn't stir to my touch. I decided instead to simply cover him up, and retreat to my thoughts.

I did have one risky thought, that I may re-visit at some later time, regarding the possibility of God having a flaw, needing to be needed, outside of the fulfillment of destiny and name (redeemer, sacrificial love, etc.) that I have mostly come to terms with already. But for the most part, I was very glad to have a daughter who simply wanted to be with me, rather than with some second-rate substitute for real affection.

I hope that we all will take some comfort in the fact that we don't always have to settle for second rate pacification. I hope we will remember, and even prioritize, that comfort food, television, reading, sleeping and driving fast cars are fine ways to pass the time, but that there's really nothing at all in the whole universe like letting Daddy hold us and hug us when we're down.

Get over it

i think the bottom line is this.

I think we (as people) are/can-be resentful that life seems to be about getting over the fact that life is not going to be about what what we want it to be about.

In the end, that seems to be each of ours individual hang up.

Some are always disappointed that life is not more ideal. more perfect. more beautiful. more well done.

I experience this in all of it's disappointment for these types of people, and particularly, with regards to how (I make them feel this way)/(how they hold this/these against me.)

I in turn resent that when I do make the effort, life is never satisfied with the results (and, for the most part, life means these people, but, to a larger extent, it also means money, all people, life and God). I deal with this by being somewhat apathetic to the fact that the single most dominant factor in the universe is entropy -- that things will always decay and fall apart and undo and require much more effort to do/maintain/please/etc. than I will ever think is worth it.

I realize it is not just this way for me. I realize that even God must continually overcome His own idealism, perfection, righteousness -- in order to endure the fallen state of man, and love/rescue/enjoy our existence. I'm not just whining, even though I realize and confess, I am whining.

which only adds to the problem.

There is nothing one can do to get what they want. there just aren't enough hours in the day to take care of every problem, please every person, rest, and be healthy. It is woven into the fabric of existence that one cannot achieve this.

to some, this is the imperfection of idealism.

to me, it is the fuel of apathy.

either way, if I do not "try hard enough", everyone (or, at least someone significant) is disappointed/upset/hurt/angered/etc.

If I do "try hard enough"/"succeed", I am never satisfied with the quantity or quality of the "payoff"

oooh, and I understand that the notion of "the value of a job 'well done' is in itself" -- which is crap to me. I get the idea, and even the "value" in it, but it has never really satisfied me personally/emotionally, even if I can come to terms with it intellectually.

so ultimately, it ends up being an eternal matter of humility and self control, to force oneself to be OK with the results once one determines they have "given a good enough effort." Even if it means acknowledging/learning what more could have been done, and deciding in the future if it is appropriate to do/try more, or accept partial/broken results as OK.

and through it all, Father is supposed to be whispering "well done" when we have actually achieved enough in any given situation... or, perhaps, long after the season of doing has ended, and the applause/pat-on-the-back is basically equivalent to a distant afterthought.

Which is where the "eternal" ("never ending, cyclical", and" seemingly forever in the waiting"), and self control (being content with no applause when there is none, or until there is...) --- come into play...

Patience, and self control... which come by communing/abiding/eating-from the Spirit. "the fruit of the spirit are....." --- that is, "when the spirit is present/alive/consumed/abided, then these things (oh, yeah, and a few others...) will be the fruit, the evidence..."

yaaaaaaaaaaaay

This is basically what Jesus was trying to get his disciples to understand the whole time they were with Him....

Get over yourselves. Get over your own wants and hurts and frustrations and expectations, and let God determine what is worth setting your life upon/towards, and be satisfied with the (lack of) personal/physical/carnal/emotional/etc. rewards here on earth, and accept/value/look-for/give-to-Father the "spiritual" value of obedience/sacrifice/Greater-Truth/etc. that comes-with/is-inherently-true-of the Father's divine perfection of will.

sooooooo

I am just not yet disciplined enough to live out what I already know, understand and unfortunately, believe-in deep down in my truth.

I'm 38 years old.

I've been "at this" for 30 years - since I was 8 (well, I was 8 when I made a conscious decision to "pursue" and "accept" a relationship with God through the sacrifice of His son Jesus... I began reading about and chatting with God about it about two years earlier than that... but, who cares?). On the one hand, that's a heck of a long time for a single human to fail to grasp and achieve a concept/principle/truth/credo, especially one that can be so simply (?) articulated.

On the other hand, the typical number of years for humans to get over themselves seems to be 40. so, maybe it is "acceptable" or, perhaps at least symbolically relevant for it to take another 10 years for my stinking carcass of flesh to finally die and for me to begin successfully living in and of the spirit.

'

i guess that's not too bad.

but I am both getting sick of the stench of my putrid self,

and

wondering if I have what it takes to ever "make it."

one thing is clear. I cannot muster all that it takes to "make it" on a daily basis yet. I guess I'll have to be content to get by on the partial success I, and the Grace of the Father, mange to bolster.

Maybe that's all there is... Getting over it.

why I'm so angry

Ok, I'll start with the simple confession --- of all the men in the Bible, I probably most readily, honestly identify with Samson, who was admittedly selfish, lustful and angry, and I'll get back to that.

But most of the time I've wanted to believe I aspire for more nobler identity: the passion and faith of David, fervor of Peter, patience and love of John, wit of Paul -- the better half of the men in the Bible.

And to whatever extent I'm able to convince myself I share some qualities with these men, I am always forced to reconcile my first association. Anger and selfishness.

Whether you believe that God had a simple plan for Jonah, and Jonah's selfishness is what got him in trouble, or that God, a master choreographer, knew exactly what He was doing when He asked Jonah rather than any of the other guys available at the time, and wanted the extra drama of whale bleached stenchification to drive the words "Repent! Repent" even deeper into the hearts of the Ninevites -- either way --- it still sucks to be Jonah! And even if you claim that the Almighty God could unbleach his skin and cause his hair to grow back -- what an ordeal! not just the boat ride, being thrown over, being "rescued" by whale digestion, vomitted on the shore of your enemy - but being made an example of God's holy forgiveness and grace overriding one of the few opportunities for RIGHTEOUS ANGER!!!!! and having to yourself eat humble pie rather than he sinners who deserve it.

IT JUST PLAIN SUCKS TO BE GOD'S "GUY" !!!!!!

and that makes it all that much harder to get over whatever legitimate, illegitimate, petty, generational, abusal, social outrage or otherwise persistent forms of anger and frustration in life.

Noah!

--- What?

This is God!

--------- Rrrriiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhttttt

I want you to build an ark

-- riiight -- -I'll get right on that. What's an ark?

It's a ridiculously large boat. I want you to work on it for years. It's going to rain.

---- Right. What's rain?

Don't worry about that. Just do this and stop asking questions

(yeah, I know Cosby's version is better, but longer too...)

So --- how great to be selected by God, right!?

Let's see...

Build something nobody has ever heard of, to protect from something else nobody has ever heard of --- ok, well, everybody get's a hobby, so, no big deal if nobody's on board --

but that's just it

After years of ridicule, when the day finally comes, the boat is loaded, it starts raining -- now you're the only person(/family) "in the right" and you have to watch everything get destroyed. Listen to your neighbors cry for help... then stop

then what? 7 day luxury cruise? land on Fantasy Island for all your faithulness? Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what the earth looked like after a most severe soaking.

How about some mud? Dead everything (well, perhaps not -- if it is actually buried under all the mud and silt to become our modern oil reserves... but... who knows?)

Is this sounding glamorous yet?

Jesus --- doubted/denied/criticized/crucified by those close to Him, those He came to save, those He taught most closely.

Paul, blinded, angered, left with a "thorn in his side", imprisoned, beaten/whipped, exiled -- yaaaay Paul -- that's a glamorous life for sure

Peter -- walks on water, only to sink, denies Christ hour after being warned - how embarrassing -- beaten by John in the foot race to the tomb on Easter... oh, yeah -- and called Satan. Must feel good to be that guy.

David -- faithfully deliver lunch, a rather simple task I think anyone might be able to muster a good attitude for -- only to accidentally proclaim his faith in The Most High God, get thrown to the frontlines to face a LITERAL Giant, slay him, only to have spears chucked a him, exiled, his best friend killed, finally become King, only to lose his beloved son (and respect/love of wife/people/etc.) over a little live porn, a little fling, a little coercion, some lies, ummm.... oh, and a murder if you're keeping track I guess. David. Forefather of the Christ - how far we fall!

How about Joseph? Sure, maybe he deserved a little payback from his brothers -- we all hate a suckup, know-it-all, teachers pet braggart, but slavery? faked death? sheesh! but wait! even as a slave, he tries to be the most honorable, and what happens? attacked (allegedly...) by his masters (presumably very hot) wife! AAAah! not only the temptation! but lo! he does the right thing, ONLY TO BE (falsely?) ACCUSED OF BEING THE PERPETRATOR! now, not a slave, but a prisoner --- years go by -- fighting it out with God (to much avail, right?) --- THEN, even still, he helps fellow prisoners because he STILL HAS FAITH -- only to be forgotten/snubbed when they return to possitions of influence.. Only after MORE YEARS in prison, does his "faith" earn him audience with the King, who places him in power, yadda yadda, saves the day sure, but MAN! WHAT A LIFE to get there!?

and how about Moses? He didn't have to pay attention to the plight of the slave -- or even the fact that by blood they were his people --- he could have just kept on playing along, become Pharaoh and done as he pleased (which, of course, could have included freeing them!) but no -- he becomes empassioned, kills a guy, ends up in the desert to almost die... almost bad enough... but gets rescued, has a family, only to have a bush tell him to go to Egypt, give some big speeches to his former brother now Pharaoh despite his speech impediment --- and free "God's" people ---sure, no big deal - I'll just pick up some milk and a new throw rug for the livingroom while I'm at it --- 10 standoffs, including picking up live vipers, ridicule, yadda yadda, then, FREEDOM, right? suuuuuuure! a bunch of mature, grateful, faithful servants of God follow him out directly into the PROMISED land, right? Oooooh, wait! no! that's how it's SUPPOSED to go, but noooOOOOOOOOooooo... we have to wander in the desert... We have to forget God and make idols... we have to complain and bicker and doubt... Moses this and Moses that... and after 40faithful years in the desert with these whiny, ungrateful malcontents, Moses has a moment of weakness, taps the rock rather than speaking to it, and the PROMISED land is taken from him ---- in punishment for his heinous crime....

need I go on? almost - and seriously--- almost every single guy in the bible (and let's not forget the women! but I will not claim to whine a cry on their behalf) who put his neck on the line for this "God" ended up with what to show for it? Death? yeah, some of the lucky ones died quickly. Torture? Imprisonment? Family slaughtered before you? Boils? abandonment? eyes burned out? Drawn and Quartered?

and how about Christ's reward? A bride -- the Church! HA! Have you taken a look around the history books at what an embarrassing, whining (ahem...) selfish, short-sighted, backstabbing ungrateful bunch of heathens He gets stuck with!

RIGHT?

ACTUALLY.... yes

Even in "the glory that was set before Him", the bride, the church, the ongoing suffering of presenting her blameless (COUGH!) before God --- the glory of it... of being "that guy" --- the guy who could get the job done... the guy who can (and does) continue to accept the blame for his brides crap, so that His Father's heart can enjoy the beauty of this radiant(ly cleansed) trophy addition to His heart-family.

So that's it. Being "the guy." constantly not only taking the raw deal, sacrifice, embarrassing, lonely road of being God's guy, but, being His Son as well, rebuked, purified, punished --- to expose the rotten, diseased, self serving undead flesh that gets angry at the unfair deal it gets.

sure, it's noble, but it still makes me angry sometimes.

I hate that there's still crap in this world I have to clean up after I step in it.

I hate that just when I think I have a righteous anger, I get an accusing finger pointing out what a schmuck I am. And it's right.

I hate that the pain I feel from others ---ahem --- crapping --- on me, needs to be replaced with compassion for their pain, which causes them to behave in this way.

I hate that my accuser is so right.

I hate that my big brother has already paid for it, and I have to fight not only to overcome the shame of my ridiculousness, but also accept that I'm the only one angry about everything, and get over it.

I hate that despite all my intelligence, all my charm, all my craftiness, ADD, ADHD, skills, merit, and junk in the back closet, I can't work out a better deal for myself.

I hate that in order to live, I have to die.

I hate that the person who lives when I die - isn't me.

I hate that alot of times, that person doesn't even appreciate it.

I hate that when they do, they're not supposed to, rather, they're suppose to thank God, not me.

I hate that I'm broken.

I hate trying to pretend I'm not.

I hate getting fixed

I hate knowing that while I may be fulfilling prophecy, and Gods promises, it may be through selfishness, anger, lust, and worse -- a final, repentant moment of clarity that a invokes my former glory destroys some evil enemy --- and myself. Thanks for that Samson.

Get busy living... get busy dying.

Yaaayy --- We're the body of Christ -- -wooohooo!

I'm a foot

I'm the heart

I'm the ear -- I'll tell you what God says!

how about....

I'm a single skin cell?

I'm a white blood cell that attacks a single intruder? and dies...

actually, the whole point is - and dies.

if one is an ear, how many ears are there in The Body of Christ?

which makes more sense? for a single person to represent an entire fifth (or tenth if you count each ear seperately... but then what of touch?... anyway, we'll go with fifth) of the senses of Christ? or, for a single person to represent a single cell performing part of the function of that part of the body of Christ?

I guess that depends on if there are 144,000 chosen, or if everyone alive is in the body, if you're pre-trib, post-trib, pentacostal, orthadox, or live on the odd-numbered side of the street.

bottom line?

how does your death fall in line with the analogy of a body?

but not the death of your body.

Let's say there are two twins, Bill and Bob.

Bill sustains a traumatic head injury is either paralyzed and has very little interest in life, or, for a simpler example, is unconscious/comatose/vegetive.

Bob is a vibrant, talented, suave, polite, intelligent, driven, giving example of a human being.

both are aging approximately the same.

diets are regulated to keep them looking the same.

they have similar health habbits, despite the large discrepancy in exercise.

So, what is the difference between the lives of these two brothers?

the kidneys of both men are "heroicly" filtering out toxins, so the body stays healthy. Both scalps are producing beautiful manes of hair. Both have eyes that remain deep blue and healthy. Both bodies contain many organs and billions of cells all doing their job, and yet, one "lives", and one merely exists.

What is the definition of "life"?

I propose that within the context of a body, it is the individual parts of the body working together to accomplish a will. In theory, the will of the mind, but in reality, a foot may limp because of it's own pain, or, a hand jerk instinctively against the will of the mind to reach into a pot of hot water to retrieve a precious heirloom that has fallen in.

Sometimes, if not often, the large item part of the body must experience death in order for the will of the head, or mind, to succeed. In every situation, there are cells living out short, or shortened, lifecycles protecting and/or serving the body, and more specifically, the will of the mind in the execution of a task.

Often, these shortened lifecycles are significant enough to leave scars indicating their suffering, sacrifice, success and even failure. and yet, we say the body lives on, and the mind, the will of the mind, benefits from the sacrifice, and lives on.

How humbling then that we might represent single cells, or patches of skin cells that serve for a while, perhaps only keeping very minor contaminants from sensitive inner organs, perhaps being burned, stabbed, cut, scrapped away -- sometimes more painfully -- sometimes with no eventfullness to speak of whatsoever.

How sad.

How tragic.

That a necessary part of a, of the, body, live unceremoniously.

And yet, how much of that is our own choosing?

Are we really seeking the will of the Head? to find out how our vibrancy might bring about betterness for the body? for the Head? for the Father of the Head? or, are we more concerned with our rights, our priveledges, our titles, our glory, our ease, our lack of dying?

Perhaps we could afford to lose a few skin cells scraping against the rock of a sheer cliff the Body should climb. Perhaps we have gained a few pounds of fatty laziness that could benefit from some trimming, some DIEting? Perhaps a little bruising of the heel is worth a legendary journey. Perhaps, we should look more into the dying of life, and spend a little less time trying to "preserve" what we think is or was important in the stagnation we know of existence.