Cease Fire

My daughter asked me a question, this morning, that blew my mind. We were in the midst of one of our usual teenager vs parent epic battles. I felt sufficiently comfortable with my position in the battle. She stormed off angry. I called her mother to report on the battle front. Tensions have been high lately. She's heading off to college and quite obviously feeling anxious. I'm watching my little girl grow up (or not grow up, depending on the day) and feeling equally anxious. So the monthly battles have turned to weekly or daily battles as of late. We have both taken our hits. Both tired from the fight. But this morning, we both mustered the energy for one more battle.

But then, amidst the bombs and sirens, a white flag went up. In response to my most recent angry message, my daughter sent me a text that basically said, "I'm going off to college soon. Instead of fighting, we should cherish our time together." And, as if that wasn't enough, she went on to ask, "Do you remember the day I was born? I do." She ended her message with her usual, "Love you Paww."

As the dust from the bombs settled and the gunshots stopped ringing in my ears, I reflected on her question. The day she was born. To be honest, I wasn't there the day she was born. I was 17. Its not as if the terms of her birth were joyous and exciting. I was in the midst of another kind of chaos in that moment. But, what I do remember was the day we met. It was a few days after her birth. I went to her grandmother's house. I took this newborn child in my arms and walked her out onto the balcony. I wanted a private moment with my baby girl. I whispered words into her ear that, to this day, no one but me and God could attest to. I made that little girl a promise. I made God a promise. I was going to give that little girl the world. No hurt or harm would come to her while I stood watch.

My assumption was always that she didn't know about that day. After that day, I actually didn't see much her her for a while. Like I said, it was a different kind of chaos back then. But, when we met again, I knew that I had come to keep my promise. I assumed that she couldn't possibly know that we'd met before. And the relationship that we formed was one built on choice, not obligation. I rather liked it that way.

My baby girl's question today made me think. That white flag she raised on the battle field today made me wonder. Its as if she said, "Do you remember the treaty we signed years ago? We agreed to be allies. So why are we fighting?" She was days old when we made that pact. I can't reasonably believe she REMEMBERS it. Still, I remember it. That's not to say I think I did anything wrong today. She is, after all, a teenage girl. They tend to do things that make their dad's want to scream. But what she said to me today reminded me of something very important. Even when she makes me wanna scream, she doesn't really mean to make me angry. She loves me just as much as I love her.

I'm sure this cease fire will be temporary. Maybe she is just buying time while she stocks up on ammo. Regardless, I'm glad she said what she said. It reminded me that, no matter which way the bullets fly, in the end, we're on the same side in this one.

Make a List

It's official! I'm a best selling author. I went onto amazon.com today just to see how I'm doing. I do that from time to time, when I'm wishful thinking. But today I saw something I've never seen before. I made a list! Amazon makes these lists. In every category imaginable, they make a list. It might be "Best Selling Books by Black Authors of Children's Books of Non-Fiction," or "Best Selling Fiction Books Written for the Elderly." Mine is "Top Rated Motivational Self-Help Books in the Kindle Store." Its sort of like saying "customer favorite book written by authors living on Duncan Avenue and sold at Jakes Newsstand." It's a bit specific. Still, I've never been on a list before. It felt pretty good to see.

I have always dreamed of the day when I'd make a record that gets onto the Billboard charts. I really wouldn't care which chart. Billboard top 12,000 jazz records. Billboard top 4 trillion pop tunes. If they printed my name, that would be good enough for me. When I started writing the book, that dream changed a little. I started dreaming of the New York Times. Even if its just for one week, I wanna see my name on that best seller list. Of course Amazon.com has a best seller list too. Its updated hourly. Every book is on it. That's why I always check the site. You can tell that someone bought my book if my number changes. When you sell a very very small number of books, one or two sales drastically changes your place on the list. You go from #1,342,291 to #71,908, or something like that. The really fun part is if a few people buy in the same day. I think I reached #16,000 at some point. But I still dream. I dream of the day when I reach the real list. Those top 100 books are considered "Best Sellers." One day....

So today I made a list. It might very well be the "My gramma's favorite books written by one of her grand children" list, but it's a list none the less. I've gotta say, it feels just like I thought it would.

Square Peg, Square Hole

I'm doing it again. I'm getting married. I found a woman who loves me, in all my craziness, and I asked her to never leave. By the grace of God, she actually agreed to those terms. And so, I am getting married....again. I point out that it's the second go 'round not to make a comparison. I say it because someone mentioned to me yesterday that they were surprised I was willing to try again. Because they knew me during my first marriage, I suppose it's a fair enough question to ask. Why try again?

My first marriage left much to be desired. I can't say that was a surprise to me. It was one of those strange situations where all of the love in the world never seemed to make the thing make any more sense. But, because we had all of that love, we kept trying to make it make sense. Its a bit like attempting to fit a square peg in a round hole simply because the peg and the hole really like each other. You try hard and all you get are sore hands and chipped edges. You keep trying and eventually the peg or the hole will break. Well, in my case, the peg and the hole both started to break.

Flip to a few years later. Here I am. Maybe a little rougher around the edges but no worse for the wear. In fact, I'd say I'm all the wiser. So much so that when I spotted that hole that seemed to fit my peg just right (pardon the pun), I decided to give it a go. Am I afraid of repeating the past? Sure. I suppose that thought has crept into my head a time or two. But should that stop me from trying? I should hope not.

I spend my days helping people learn to live again. People who have been traumatized by life. They come to me with their stories of pain and sadness. Stories that have crippled them emotionally. They are afraid to live, for fear of being hurt again. And every time, I say the same thing. The stuff that happened in the past is just stuff that happened in the past. It's not predictive of the future. Yesterday is only as influential in your tomorrow as you let it be. A friend of mine put it this way: Your past is like baggage. The key is remembering that, at any time in your travels, you can put your baggage down.

So here I am. Doing it again. Luckily for me, I think I found the square hole this time.