Sometimes, as a parent, you have to realize that there are just some things you can't do. My dad used to say, "I can fix anything but a broken heart." That was a very poetic lie. While a very gifted electrician, my dad couldn't even oil my baseball glove properly. He'd always take it to my grandpa - his dad - to get the job done right. I have to hand it to the old man, even if he won't admit it openly himself, he knew when something was beyond him.
Lately, I find myself wondering what the future holds for me. Not "me" as in "me and my family," but myself. The solo act, not the group. Plenty of opportunities are now spread out before me. I could drop probation and go back into the ministry, which is something I want to do very badly. I could stay in probation and stay at the same position I'm in, which would lead to insanity on my part because its such an undervalued job - even by my colleagues - that it often leads to my just wanting to stay home and hide under my covers in depression. If I switched to casework, sure I could have a normal nine to five and Monday through Friday schedule, but then our daycare bill skyrockets and I'd basically be giving up on my own personal dreams.
I'd be throwing in the towel on something I worked hard for. My credentials, my skills as a pastor and preacher, which I don't think are all that shabby - though one year in youth ministry has left me with enough doubts to fill a swimming pool.
Not the plastic kiddie pool you buy every summer at Wal-Mart, either. I'm talking Michael-Phelps-practices-here-pool.
But I want to go back.
I know that may be selfish. I'm certainly not going to make the same amount of money I make here in Indianapolis, we'd probably have to move pretty far, and there's a slight chance that things could turn out to be pretty rough for a while when my wife has to find a new job and start all over there.
Its a pretty scary concept, starting over. We've decided we're not too thrilled on our kids growing up in this city. Not that people we know have kids who have turned out horrible, its just that when you work in a job that constantly exposes you to the grimy under-belly of a city, you tend to want to get as far away from it as possible.
The fact is, wherever we go, if it is where God wants us, I have to believe He'll take care of us. Call it faith or call it religious overzealousness if you want, either way I have to believe it.
I believe that at some point in every man's life he is forced to walk the stairs in an imaginary castle he has built for himself inside his mind. The stairs lead to a balcony from which he is able to gaze out upon the kingdom he has built for himself. Either he stairs out in wonder and awe, or hangs his head to weep.
There will be no weeping when I'm done climbing the stairs. I have my limitations but I also have my faith. I have to cling to that at times as any shipwrecked sailor may grab at driftwood. This can't be it for me.
This can't be it for my family.
Its not that we're so incredibly unhappy here. When we recently listed the pros and cons of staying and leaving, we realized we were okay staying in Indianapolis.
Just okay.
I justify my desire to leave my current job by saying to myself, and to my wife, that it would probably be better for Evie and kids to be named later, that leaving this city would be what's best for our family. We're both from small towns and living in the city isn't something we are really, completely sold on. Though the convenience of having a McDonald's nearby anytime you get a little hungry is convenient, its also led to my recently mentioned fatness. I think I'm fair in saying it would be better for our kids, to be honest, and my wife agrees.
Its just difficult giving up what is comfortable; what is safe.
Lately, the thought of me being my own worst enemy has plagued me. I've spent the last few months telling myself that nobody can stop me but me. The problem is, I'm starting to wonder if my true limitation - the one thing holding me back - is nothing less than myself. My fear of change, of being uncomfortable for a while.
The fact is, simply, nobody limits you but you, and while I am worried about what happens to me, whatever decisions I make impacts my family. The minute I told the pastor "I do" and became part of a couple, I ceased being "me" and started being "we."
If I live my life by always following the comfortable road, my daughter will grow up having a coward for a father. I can't let that happen. I have to think about what's best for all of us and not just myself.
That's what it means to be a dad. Not always focusing on what's easy, and not always focusing on what you want for yourself, but what's best for your family.
Okay, I guess the rant is over.
