Outside the Drawing

The other day I noticed an old drawing I had doodled years ago on the side of my refrigerator. It is a cartoonish sketch of my wife, my two children at the time- JulieAnna and Sawyer, and myself. It’s funny, because it has been there so long I hadn’t noticed it in a while. Standing there at the fridge, it jogged my memory of another hand drawn picture.

When we were dating, Patience would take bright markers and make all sort of colorful signs for me. I had a closet door covered in copy paper with romantically mushy phrases like “I love you more than the stars” and “Happy 6th month anniversary.” If that sounds a bit juvenile it’s probably because she was a sophomore in high school at the time, and we were young and head over heels crazy about each other. But there was one drawing she created that stood the test of time. It was of a yellow house with a red door. Beside it were two tall stick figures (a mom and dad) a little girl, and a baby boy. At the top it read, “Our dream.” 

I found that drawing in a box about five years ago and ran to Patience in astonishment. It was as if she had prophetically predicted our future back in high school. At the time I discovered it our life perfectly mirrored the “dream” she envisioned many years before. I quickly grabbed a marker and told her to draw a picture of us in a bigger house swimming in piles of money. 

“We are literally living our dream,” she said as she studied the paper.

“That’s crazy, right?!” I exclaimed.

She was quiet for a moment.

“All those years you just keep looking forward to the next big thing…” Patience paused as she thought aloud, “But it’s like once you get there you forget… you forget you actually get to live some of those dreams.”

I hung the picture on our refrigerator and used it as a conversation piece when guests would come over. Somewhere in the past few years though, the fridge was cleaned, and the mysterious house drawing is now nowhere to be found. All the while “our dream” began to change.

I think it’s great to dream big and make plans, but sometimes the most amazing things in life happen when you detour from what you always predicted you would do and instead do something you never expected. I was happy with my family of four. I was content with my yellow brick house and my beautiful wife. But it wasn’t until we started thinking outside of our own dreams that life truly began.

I have mentioned the adoption of our son, Wesley, a lot, but it’s because he was one of those unplanned detours. There was no place in Patience’s hand drawn picture with a little blind Korean boy. It was never on our radar. He was not drawn into the dream. But, man, I am so glad life doesn’t always go the way you planned. I am so thankful we didn’t settle to just live the simple high school dream of making money and having the perfect little family. No, the true adventure began in our lives when we stepped outside of the boundaries we had drawn for ourselves, and did something bigger and harder and more difficult than we ever imagined. We took the plans we had, crumpled it in a ball, and threw it in the garbage. For the first time in our lives we were living a plan only God Himself could set into motion. 

One of my fondest memories is the time I talked Patience into driving up Highway 64 to the Ocoee Whitewater Center. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and I just could not stay put. JulieAnna was a just a baby, so we loaded her into the car seat, and hit the road. We snaked alongside the winding river beside the highway, breathing deeply the cool spring mountain air. The Whitewater Center is home to the 1996 Olympic whitewater competition, and is great spot to watch kayakers play in the rapids. We had packed a picnic lunch and spent the next hour or so meandering along the Occee River; taking pictures of JulieAnna as she waddled along the stone paths.

When we returned to the car I asked Patience what she thought about driving a little further. She was hesitant. I just wanted to go about 45 minutes further to Murphy, North Carolina; a quaint little town with small shops and eateries. She reluctantly agreed. About fifteen minutes into the drive though, she and JulieAnna both fell sound asleep. A thought crossed my mind. A spark of adventure flared up in my chest. So without a word I determined I was going to keep driving until they woke up, and just see where we ended up. 

We passed Murphy in no time and continued Northeast deeper into North Carolina. Another hour passed, then another. Patience began to stir in the passenger seat. She sat up and rubbed her eyes into focus.

“Where are we?” she said in a half yawn.

“I’m not sure,” I responded with a coy smile.

“What do you mean you are not sure?”

“I mean, we’ve been driving for a while.”

Patience jumped up in her seat as she looked at the clock.

“Why are you still driving?” she exclaimed.

JulieAnna began to stir in her car seat. My whim of adventure suddenly began to seem like less of a good idea.

“Where are we?” Patience repeated.

“I really don’t know.” 

JulieAnna was now awake and hungry. She began to cry.

So we pulled over the car into a rundown country gas station. I began to fill up the tank, and popped the trunk to look for an atlas. (Yes, this was pre Google Maps.) Patience lifted JulieAnna out of the seat to discover a soaking wet mess. The bad news: one diaper and no change of clothes. I could feel the heat from my wives evil glare as I peered up from the atlas. She carried the soaking wet baby into the nasty gas station bathroom at arm’s length. By now the sun was beginning to set, and I could tell my wife was in no mood for an evening excursion. She came back with JulieAnna, strapped her in, and plopped down in the seat next to me.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, we are about 4 ½ hours from home, so it might just be better to find a place,” I responded with caution.

The silence returned.

“Let’s just make the most of it,” I said smiling.

Patience just shook her head in frustration, as JulieAnna cooed from the back seat, despite her urine drenched onesie. After a long discussion, and Patience surrendering out of pure exhaustion, we decided to move forward to the next town. 

Shortly after, we pulled into the little town of Chimney Rock, North Carolina. The main strip of shops and restaurants was beautifully tucked between two mountains, and in the shadow of the Chimney rock; a pronounced stone jutting out from the top of one of the mountaintops. It was springtime, and the streets were crowded with tourists. We spend the next hour searching for a hotel. There was a rundown little motel next to the creek with one room still available, so we took it. 

We had no change of clothes, no toothbrushes, no baby supplies, so we made our way to the nearest Walmart and bought all of the essentials. After the store came a lovely dinner at a little restaurant that was mostly windows. It looked out over the valley, and had a spectacular view of Chimney Rock. We ate a delicious meal then walked the street and perused through the shops, before returning to our musty motel room.

The funny thing is, looking back, we have such fond memories of that trip. We still laugh about it. And it makes me wonder why I don’t step outside of the plan more often. Why not be spontaneous every once and awhile? What’s stops me from getting in the car and just driving until we stumble upon somewhere interesting? 

If you’re like me, there are a few big things that keep spontaneity from happening… namely money, responsibilities, and schedules. 

It seems at some point we are forced to grow up. Our money goes to pay the bills. We have families. We go to the grocery store. We run the kids to baseball practice, and juggle a hundred other things on our plate. Somewhere in the mix our spontaneity flies out the window. We’re either too broke or too tired to step outside the norm into anything new or exciting. 

I am not saying that you should be some total free spirit and shed all of your responsibilities. I am also not suggesting to go run up your credit card so you can live out your dream. Pretty soon the Visa bills will find you and the responsibilities will track you down like a pack of dogs. But I believe adding a little spontaneity into your routine can help balance your life. 

I look at the drawing on my refrigerator now and it just seems so empty. The old dream of the wife, two kids, and a house feels a lot like the sketch itself: colorless. Had we stuck to the plan, our lives would be so drastically different. We would have missed the adventure. We would have forfeited a better story. So stop sticking to the limitation of your plans. Put your foot to the gas and drive. You might just find a life outside the drawing is where real life begins.

Enjoying Instead of Entertaining

My wife, Patience, is the queen of hospitality. She loves to have people over, and really enjoys cooking and hosting. Over the past eleven years of our marriage, we have had many guests come for dinner. Early on it was not like that. Probably because we were doing good just to feed ourselves! But once we had settled into our home several years back Patience sat me down to explain something lacking in her life.

“I want to have more people over,” she stated.

“Like, for dinner?” I asked.

“Yes, I really love cooking and I love people,” she paused for a moment and spoke clearly, “I need to have more people over.”

To be honest, this did not sound like much fun to me. I am just the opposite of Patience, and find a great need for silence and solitude… both of which were stripped from me the day we had children. I am an introvert to the bone, and recharge by being away from people. Patience’s idea to invite people into our home sounded almost tortuous. I asked her if I had to be downstairs while the people were over. She was not amused by the question, which I took to mean I should probably make an appearance for dinner.

It wasn’t long after that conversation that we began opening our doors to friends and longtime acquaintances. Patience would clean for a solid day, cook an immaculate meal, and have coffee brewing for her favorite part of the night… conversation. This all seemed like such unnecessary work to me, but I found I kind of enjoyed the company. I got to know people I had “known” for years. They would sip their coffee, and I would listen as my wife would converse in a way I could never do. Questions about life, and marriage, and God, and family… and in such a way that engaged the others without coming across as pushy or nosey.

We have had a lot of people around our eight-seat high-top kitchen table since. From missionaries, to coworkers, to friends we liked but just never got around to getting to know better, we found these opportunities together fascinating and more enjoyable than previously anticipated. Our lives have since been so deeply enriched from that single decision to open up our doors and letting others in.

As much as I love all the people we have had over throughout the years, I have to admit, hosting is not always enjoyable. Through the years I have noticed two main groups develop that I could divide all of our guests into: those to enjoy and those to entertain. Patience has noticed it too. It seems there are two very distinctly different experiences that come from these polar opposite types of people.

Let me explain. 

Those to Entertain

These are not bad people. In fact, they are often great people. But at the same time, they require a lot of work. These are the people that have a certain level of expectations about your time together. These are the people you scrub the base boards in preparation for. You worry about what they think about the meal, and feel the need to keep the conversation flowing. 

We have not had much experience with these types, but enough to know that hosting a couple or family like this is terribly exhausting. That’s not to say that you won’t have fun together, but it seems to take so much effort to achieve it.

The entertainment syndrome doesn’t just apply to dinner guest though; it can be found in marriages, friendships, and families across the world. How many times have you gone on a vacation to entertain the kids and came home feeling like someone had beaten you with a baseball bat? It’s one of those vacations you have to plan in a couple of extra days just to recover from the fatigue acquired from the nonstop “fun.” Maybe it wasn’t a vacation. Maybe it was a date. If you are not careful you can fill your time with so many activities that when the opportunity comes for actual quality time, you are too exhausted to make it happen. 

We live in a culture that is obsessed with entertainment, and are raising kids that expect nothing less than to be entertained every day of their lives. And though movies, games, sports, and activities are all fun, I can’t help but think that we are so busy entertaining our children that we have forgotten how to enjoy them.

Just this past Saturday Patience and I decided to bring the boys up to North Chickamauga Pocket Wilderness to swim and play in the creek. We have a community pool membership, but I didn’t feel like being with the crowds. I wanted something quiet and peaceful. We packed a backpack full of snacks and towels and hiked a short distance into the woods before cutting down to the creek. The water was crystal clear and gently rushed past huge boulders and stacks of river rock. It was shallow enough for Sawyer and Wesley to play in, and deep enough in certain areas for me to join in as well.

Quality time on the creek

The boys and I climbed over the boulders and splashed in the water. We spent a solid hour trying to dam up a portion of the creek. Sawyer worked hard at stacking the rocks, and Wesley dug up the rocky mud and piled it on top. For nearly three hours I played with my two sons in that creek without interruption. 

As we drove into town to get some pizza afterwards, I thought to myself how rewarding our time together was. We could have put on a movie. We could have sat at home on our tablets. We could have even gone to Chuck-E-Cheese. All of those things are fun, but our time together on the creek with nothing but the rushing water and an endless supply of stones was so much better.

Those to Enjoy

Have you ever had someone call and tell you they are on their way to drop by your house? You can always tell what level of friendship you have with that person by how you spend the following five minutes before they get there. I can’t tell you how many times we have scrambled around picking up mounds of toys and clothes and flinging them into a bedroom and locking the door. We light candles and hide dishes. I guess the goal is to make your house look as if no one lives in it.

Through the years of hosting couples over for dinner, we found a core group of friends that we can enjoy being around without the pressure of feeling the need to entertain. These are the friends and family that have seen our nasty house. They’ve seen the dishes in the sink and the dirty clothes in the floor, and they just don’t care.

I have come to appreciate our time together with people like this, because we can enjoy each other. There doesn’t have to be a game involved or a movie to have fun. Most of the time we find ourselves around the table or on the couch just talking, and laughing, and sometimes even crying. I have learned  I would much rather have one friend I can be real with than a hundred I have to pretend around.

That realness… that comfort and enjoyment stems from a place of deep trust.

Some of the people we enjoy the most!

The same is true of my marriage. I use to think I had to entertain my wife for her to like me. I would plan plan plan, and we’d always have a lot of fun. We would often see an older couple sitting at a restaurant quietly enjoying a meal together and ask ourselves if that would be us one day. I dreaded the thought of becoming like that, but I see the beauty in it now. Any couple can entertain one another, but it takes a special bond to enjoy each other. 

The same applies to those of us who are parents. Don’t worry so much about making every waking moment of your kid’s life an amusement park. Instead learn to enjoy them right where they are. 

I’ll never forget the time I took my son, Sawyer, out for a father/son day downtown. He was 4 years old and I had been telling him for days about the Duck Boat Tour I was going to take him on. HE was excited to ride on a vehicle that could just drive right into the water. It was a scorching June afternoon when we paid to park and arrived at the Duck Boat only to find that the entire day had already been booked. Now I had to explain to my four year old, who I’d been hyping up, that we would not be going on the boat/bus hybrid. 

“Sawyer, I am really sorry buddy, but they don’t have any seats left,” I explained as I crouched down.

Sawyer was quiet.

“I tell you what. You name anything you want to do and we will do it,” I said.

“Anything?” he said, as his eyes lit up,

Sawyer thought for a long moment.

“Dad, I just want to be with you. I don't care what we do.”

My heart melted in my chest.

“Well, is there somewhere you want to go or something you want to do together?” I prodded

“Let’s go home and play with my toys together!” he said with a big grin.

“Let’s do it!” I replied.

And so we went all the way back home, and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the floor playing cars and ninja turtles with my son. 

Like I said, don’t get so caught up with trying to entertain that you miss an opportunity to enjoy.

The Lighthouse: Establishing Traditions

I am big on creating family traditions. 

As you probably already know, I love making memories with my family, but there seems to be an added value to a yearly tradition. As I have grown older, these annual milestone memories have become more and more nostalgic. And now I find my children enjoying them too.

“Are we going to go up in the lighthouse?” Sawyer asked, as we crossed the narrow bridge onto Hunting Island.

“Of course we are,” JulieAnna answered, “We have to… because we always have.”

“Well, I didn’t know,” Sawyer replied as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

I was quiet, as I soaked in the tropical beauty of the island. The miles of low country marsh had been suddenly interrupted by the island of densely covered palmetto trees and century-old oaks. Spanish moss swayed like pirates' beards above our heads. As many times as we have been to the island, I still sensed a feeling of wonder. The beauty is breath-taking. Patience cut off the air conditioner, and we rolled down the windows.

We all inhaled deeply.

You could almost taste the salt of the Atlantic in the air, as an ocean breeze blew past my face and down my back. As we pulled into the entrance of the campground a wave of memories rushed over my heart. I saw the General Store where I use to walk with JulieAnna as a toddler to get ice cream. The smell of campfires and grills brought to mind the countless stories and meals we had shared as a family in the past. 

“I couldn’t imagine not coming here,” Patience said.

She too looked as if her heart had been captured by the ghosts of all the memories we had made in this special place.

“Dad…” JulieAnna interrupted, “We are going to go up the lighthouse, right?”

“Of course,” I replied, “It’s a tradition. We have to.”

“I told you, Sawyer,” she said in satisfaction.

In the span of JulieAnna’s ten years of living, there has only been one summer we were not able to go to Hunting Island. She was too young to remember, so as far as she can recall, this magical little gem of a place has always been there. Taking away Hunting Island from Memorial Day would be as absurd as eating pizza on Thanksgiving. It is part of what we do.

For years though I did not appreciate it. I have always loved Hunting Island, but I am the type that loves to see new places. Early on in our marriage I told Patience that I never wanted to be one of those people that go to the same place every year. And for the past few years I have begrudgingly caved into returning to the same beach spot, only because our budget could afford nothing else. 

But this year seemed different. Maybe it was the excitement of getting to bring our new son, Wesley, to the ocean for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that JulieAnna and Sawyer were so excited to return. Or maybe I was just ready for a break. Whatever the reason, I felt the excitement and joy rekindled in my heart. And as we weaved through the trees alongside the ocean, my heart was full. 

I have mentioned before how hard it is for me to sit still, but I had determined within myself that I was going to unplug and slow down. I left my phone in the car for the majority of the trip, and even decided not to try and read a collection of books this year. Instead, I was going to try to thoroughly enjoy my family, and not feel like I had to accomplish anything. 

We spent most of our week on the beach. Even though it was Memorial Day, the ocean front was sparse with people. Wesley was very intimidated by the ocean. Being visually impaired, we have learned that it takes him longer than most kids to warm up to new things. I think this is mostly because he is processing what it is and if it is safe. The first day he would barely step into the tide. The next day we noticed him playing in the inches of water that washed up unannounced around him. By day three he was all in. It was wonderful seeing him experience this new world with his brother and sister beside him. 

We didn’t do much else. We ate together at the picnic table. The kids rode their bikes every free moment we were at the campground. For Mom’s birthday we did drive into the quaint town of Beaufort, SC for ice cream and lunch. (In that order!) At night JulieAnna transformed our ordinary fireside s’mores into a concoction of endless options. We had went to the store and bought every candy you could imagine to squish between graham crackers with a marshmallow. Sawyer spent most of his time building sand castles and enjoying the new-found freedom of riding his bike around the loop with his sister.

Unplugged and undistracted, I felt like I was able to enjoy my wife and kids all the more. I was trying to find ways to enrich my time with each of them. I was able to take a nighttime stroll on the beach with Patience. Hand in hand we meandered the shore in the darkness, and stood in awe of the night sky. As for my kids, I came up with a fun little idea to get some one-on-one time with them as well. I decided I would wake up really early, sneak into the camper where they were sleeping, and wake them up. From there we would sneak off for a special breakfast together. The second morning there I took JulieAnna. The following morning I took Sawyer. It was a wonderfully special time with each of them, as we talked about life, school, summer, and Pokémon. It will definitely be a new addition to our wonderfully rich tradition.

On the drive back home, Patience had nodded off in the passenger seat, and I found myself deep in thought. There was a sadness in my soul. I hated leaving such a special place. Which made me wonder what made it so special. I know the environment is beautiful, but it was not the beach or the palmettos that I was missing. It was the memories. The laughter around the campfire, and the talks over dinner. It was the digging in the sand with my kids, and throwing Frisbee with Dad. It was all the little traditions that have become so special to me. The seemingly minute moments that make my heart overflow with joy.

I know that it will not always be like this. Not all traditions last. Kids grow up. Plans change. People go different directions. I understand that. Maybe that’s why it was so special this year. Because for that small sliver of time my children and wife and parents were all by my side. And I am old enough to know I am never guaranteed that again.

A tradition doesn’t have to be an expensive trip to a resort hotel. You really do not have to go anywhere. A tradition starts with the people you love making a memory together, and then returning to share that memory again in the future. There are not many stronger feelings than that of nostalgia. So sit down with your spouse and map out an adventure for this summer. Take the family somewhere you’ve never been and start a new tradition together. Or maybe you can do like me and return to a place you have been before in the past and fall in love with it all over again.

Oh, and don’t worry, we did climb up to the top of the lighthouse. That was a nonnegotiable. 

So I paid my two dollars gladly this year. And I marched up all 167 steps of the Hunting Island lighthouse with Dad, JulieAnna, and Sawyer. At the top you can see 40 miles out into the blue of the Atlantic Ocean. I put my arms around my kids.

”Well, we did it,” I exclaimed.

“Of course we did,” JulieAnna said with a smile.

So much has changed in the years we have been going up that lighthouse. Yet there it stood. No different than it was the year I carried JulieAnna to the top in my arms. I guess that’s what makes it so special, to have a constant, in an ever-changing world. A place you can return to that doesn’t change. A place you can relive all the memories of the times before. 

Here's a few more of my favorite shot's from of trip:

The Next Chapter: Building an Orphanage in Nigeria!

I have a hard time sitting still.

My wife says I have a problem. Maybe she is right, because the older I get the less ability I seem to have to slow down. I will often get home from work and not sit down until it’s time to go to sleep. I love working with my hands. I have been working on a tree house for my kids for the past year and a half. The running joke is that I will finish just in time for my grandchildren to enjoy it. 

I guess more than anything I enjoy creating. I love to see something come from nothing. To see beauty rise out of the ordinary, and order be made of the chaos. That is the reason I began writing. It is the reason I do anything.

A few years back I realized this about myself. I was all the time using my creativity to make fun stuff for our youth group and family. I conjured up everything from silly Youtube videos, to murder mysteries, and even some full blown haunted house experiences. I would write all the material, direct it, and see to it’s execution. And, man, did I love it! I would become totally immersed it the creative process until it was all I would think about. These experiences were really the foundation for my writing. I even began to convert one of my ideas into a full blown novel, and once again found myself lost, and more alive than ever. Though I’ve never done anything with most of this material, the satisfaction from creating it was electrifying to me.

Just when I thought I had found my calling, I realized there was something missing. It was if God nudged me and suggested I start using my talents to show his love to others. This conviction really blossomed during my first trip to work with Native American children on a reservation in North Dakota. I came home from that trip with a heavy heart and a desire to make an actual difference in someone else’s life. I came back to work in a fog. My heart was still with those Sioux children. 

I knew I wanted to go back, and so I shared my heart with my good friend Kevin at work one morning. He asked me about the need. I explained my idea about supplying school materials for all the children of the town, and Kevin immediately began to help by laying out some creative ideas for fundraisers. I was all in, and ready to change the world. We created the fundraisers and worked tirelessly until the day a group of us loaded a church bus packed to the brim with school supplies, and drove across the country to see the fruit of all of our labor.

All week on the reservation we announced the date for our Back to School Bash. We had raised enough money to buy the missionaries there an inflatable bouncy house, and had enough backpacks full of school supplies for every child in the town! The night of the big bash we blew up the inflatable, cranked up the grills, and organized all the backpacks. I think every family in town showed up. I will never forget the elation of seeing the smiles of the kids as we handed them a brand new backpack with all the necessary supplies for that school year. All the planning, all the creating, all the brainstorming, all the working… it was all worth it.

And so for the past few years our life has progressively grown from one venture  to the next. This has lead us on mission trips to Honduras all the way to our adoption in Korea. We have honestly grown so accustomed to working towards these big goals, it makes the in between hard to bear sometimes.

I remember when we touched down in Detroit with our newly adopted son, Wesley, after a 14 hour plane ride. We sunk into the king bed of our Westin hotel like dead bodies. I honestly do not think I have ever been more tired in my entire life. Two years of grueling and emotional work had come to a sudden end, and the weight from all the stress and travel had drained the life from our bodies and souls.

I will never forget lying in that bed next to Patience with Wesley asleep in between us. We were quiet for a long time. I looked at her, and she looked back at me.

“What do we do now?” she whispered.

“What?” I asked.

“I mean, this has consumed so much of our lives for nearly two years… and now he’s here.”

I was quiet.

“I know we’ll find something… I just don’t know what.”

We have now been home with Wesley just over six months, and I have to be honest, it has been tough. Our lives have changed in so many ways, as we have adjusted to raising a son with special needs. It seems almost as if someone slammed on the brakes of life, and we are still shaking are heads and trying to figure out what happened. It has been wonderful and difficult at the same time. The worst part, I feel, has been the lack of vision. Like I said, I do not like sitting still. I like action, not talk. So for our world to stop like it has for the past six months has been really trying for Patience and I. All the while we have been praying for our next big adventure. Our next step. The next chapter in our story.

I believe our next step showed up at my front door Tuesday night with his two daughters. His name is Timothy Ojo, and along with his wife Ronke, and three children, is a native Nigerian missionary. I met Timothy at my Aunt’s house at Easter. She supports his ministry on a monthly basis, and found out he and his family were going to be in the country for a few months. I immediately struck up a conversation as we ate our Easter feast on paper plates standing in the front yard. He told me about his orphanage. He told me about his new van he used to share the Gospel. I chewed my ham and listened intently; shaking my head in disbelief.

“There are over 10 million orphans in Nigeria alone,” he said with pain in his eyes.

How do you respond to that? Being adoptive parents ourselves, I just imagine 10 million little Wesleys starving in the villages of Nigeria. My heart was broken. Our conversation was cut short, but before we parted ways we exchanged information, and set a date for his family to come over for dinner at our house. This past Tuesday was the date, and after our time together, I have no doubt this is what our newest chapter is developing into. 

The most urgent need right now is to build a permanent structure for the orphanage the Ojo’s run in Nigeria. The one they have now is rented, and the situation is volatile at best. Ojo is trying his best to raise $50,000 to see this dream become a reality. I told him that we will do everything in our power to make it happen.

And so a new adventure begins. We have raised $50 so far and have a very long way to go, but I have found myself back in that creative storm, where my heart and mind are consumed with ideas to see this orphanage be built. I know this… we cannot do it alone. Maybe you’ve been feeling like me… a bit lost at the moment. Meandering through day-to-day life aimlessly. I invite you into this story with me. It’s going to be a long road. It’s going to be a lot of work. But when we break ground on that orphanage, and get to see it erected brick by brick, we will all be glad we did it. And as the Nigerian orphans file in one by one to their new home, we can rejoice together. 

So I have found myself pacing again. My soul is stirred, and I can't sit still.

I am ready to put my hands to work.

I am ready to build an orphanage!

You can buy your own brick of the orphanage right now for only $10! 

If you are interested in being a part of this please visit our fundraising page at
http://www.gofundme.com/buyabrick

My friend Timothy and me.

My Secret Society: Changing the Setting

I am not supposed to tell anybody this, but I am part of a secret society. 

I took an oath under a veil of darkness to never speak a word of this; not even to my wife. I would have to go to my grave with these secrets. Our group is small (maybe 3 or 4 people, depending on the day) but we are fervent about our time together. We meet at night, just after the sun has dipped behind the large fir trees that line the front of our neighbor’s yard. The room is black, besides the single light I carry. Yes, I am the leader, and I call the meetings.

Once the meeting has been announced, the people file in. We close the door, to make sure nobody else is listening, and begin our rituals. First, we all climb onto the bed, and get under the covers. Next, we reveal a book that will be read. And finally, I pass out the secret snack. This is the controversial part, and the main reason we have to meet in secret… because the secret snack is eaten after teeth have already been brushed! (Scandalous, I know.) But to receive a secret morsel of goodness (AKA a gummy snack) you must first answer a question. Some questions are about life. Some questions are silly. Others are serious. The only rule is that you have to be honest. And an honest answer lands you one gummy.

In closing, we usually will read a story from the Bible, as well as a book of one member’s choosing. We close out the secret meeting with bed time prayers. Then, all hands in the middle, a secret chant, usually a lot of giggling, and the blankets come off and we go to bed.

I started this little night time escapade a couple of months ago with my kids. I was thinking of a way to make our before-bed ritual more memorable. Bedtime has always been my responsibility, and is also my most cherished time with my children. I love telling stories and laughing together in the dark. I love reading to them, and asking questions, and dreaming together. There is something about those moments before bed that just seem more special. That’s why I decided to throw a new idea into the mix, and change up the setting. I do this from time to time to keep things interesting. Last summer we would go outside in the dark on the front porch by candlelight. 

I read a book once that talked about how screen writers use the setting in the movie to make the scene more interesting. So instead of having a conversation between characters on a couch, they might have that same conversation while working out, or boxing, or even jumping out of an airplane. The setting, which most just think as the forgettable backdrop, actually ends up enhancing the scene, and even making the dialogue more interesting and memorable.

In one of my favorite movies, Inception, the main character, Cobb, is explaining critical information to another character. In this mind-bending scene Cobb is detailing how dreams work, and how one can create inside of those dreams. This conversation is important because it clues in the audience to imperative details on the structure and framework the narrative is working in; that is to say, it is information the viewer needs to remember. Though the setting seems normal at first –they are having coffee outside a little café- we soon start to see things change. The characters are actually in a dream themselves. Sidewalks begin to blow up and buildings crumble. The cityscape even folds over upon itself, all the while the characters continue to talk. It is one of the most memorable scenes of the movie.

This concept of setting works not only in the movies, but in real life as well. Why do you think it is so important for us to pick the right venue for a wedding or birthday party? It is because the setting matters, and the setting can make or break a memory. 

I am going to tell on myself as proof that setting matters. Last year was our ten year anniversary. I wanted to do something special for my wife, and I decided to get her a necklace. Patience is not one to ask for expensive jewelry, but she had hinted around that she wouldn’t mind something like that for a very special occasion. I went to the jewelry store to look around and ended up with a simple diamond necklace and a new credit card bill. To be honest, I wasn’t sure she was going to like it. I figured she would appreciate the gesture, but would probably ultimately end up swapping it out for something of her choice. 

Our anniversary fell at a tough time. We had been waiting for over a year to bring home our son from Korea, when an incident happened that shut down all of Korean adoptions. We were no longer moving closer to making him our son, and were uncertain we would ever be able to bring him home. We had a little extra money, so I talked Patience into booking us a cruise in the Caribbean. I knew if we were not doing something we would just end up sitting at home and sulking on the day of our ten year anniversary. We got a great deal, and were both excited to cruise for the first time together. All the while, I was planning the big moment when I would give Patience her necklace. I now had my setting. I could give her the necklace out on the bough of the ship, just before we went to our first dinner together.

The plan was solid, but the mixture of my excitement and uncertainty that she would even like the jewelry was grating away at me the closer we came to our trip. I knew Patience was onto me. Kay’s Jewelry had sent me a nice letter in the mail. She had not opened it, but the cat was already out of the bag. 

Just a few days before we were to leave on our cruise I detoured from my original plan. I decided I needed to give her the necklace before the trip so she could exchange it for something she actually liked. I was totally convinced at this point that she would hate what I bought her.

“What would you think if I gave you an early present?” I asked.

She was blow drying her hair in the bathroom at the time.

“I mean… I guess that's fine… if you’re okay with it,” she yelled over the buzz of the dryer.

I ran into the bedroom and dug out the box from my underwear drawer. Without any explanation, I walked into the bathroom and handed her the box. She opened it up and stood there for a moment in her robe without a word.

“You don’t like it do you?” I asked.

Her silence seemed to confirm my suspicions. 

“No… no I really love it,” she responded in hesitation.

It wasn’t until later that night that she explained the reason behind her silence.

“The necklace is beautiful and so special, but…” she paused as she looked me dead in the eyes, “You don’t give a special gift like that in the bathroom.”

I tried explaining my reasoning, then made the mistake of telling her my original plan.

“So you’re telling me that you had the choice of giving me the necklace on the front of a cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean while both of us are all dressed up, or giving it to me in the bathroom of our home while I am fixing my hair in a robe… and you chose the bathroom?”

Now I was the silent one.

Patience was not being mean about it, and she kept confirming how much she loved the necklace, but the setting ruined it. 

Like I said, setting matters.

Since that enormous failure, I have been more conscious of my settings. I started asking myself how I could change things up to make the routine of life a little more memorable.

Instead of eating dinner at the table tonight, what if had a picnic at the park?

Instead of another night on the couch talking to each other during commercials, what if we built a fire in the backyard and had conversation under the stars?

What if before bed we hid under the covers and pretended like we were a secret society?

These simple questions lead to memorable moments. It’s funny how a change in scenery can make all the difference.

I do not remember most meals growing up, but I do remember the one where my parents let my cousin and me set up a card table at the edge of the woods behind our house. It was a silly and simple place to eat, but I have never forgotten it. Routine can often dull the beauty and excitement of our day to day lives, but by changing the setting of where you do things, you might find it quite easy to make a memory without even leaving your own back yard. 

Just last night my son, Sawyer, came into the living room. He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Are we going to… you know?” he whispered, as he tilted his head towards the stairs.

"Are we going to what?" I replied.

"Are we going to... have a meeting?"

"Not tonight."

Sawyer began to stomp out of the room and up the stairs. I got up from the couch, and caught up with him in the hallway.

"It's pretty late, buddy. We will have a secret meeting tomorrow night," I tried to explain.

"Dad... you know how important those meetings are," he said in a serious tone.

I kind of laughed at the comment, but then it hit me... my son valued our time together. He was the one pursuing it. Maybe it was gummy snacks. Maybe it was the secret nature of hiding under the covers. Maybe it was just the silly stories and questions. Whatever the reason, Sawyer found our secret night time assemblies a non-negotiable.

I leaned over and quietly whispered in his ear, "I guess you better inform the others."

"About what?" he asked.

"About tonight's meeting!"

Sawyer's eyes lit up as he ran to find his sister and brother.

A simple change of setting makes all the difference. Just ask all the members of my secret society. Actually, don't ask them. I might land myself in some big trouble if they find out I have shared our secret!

Patience's 30th Scavenger Hunt

“I do not want a party.”

Patience looked at me with her head tilted forward and eyebrows raised.

“But it’s your thirtieth birthday. We have to…” I tried to speak, but she interjected.

“No… party…” 

I have been married long enough to know that when it comes to birthdays, anniversaries, important milestones, and even some seemingly unimportant events, never believe your wife when she says she doesn’t care or doesn’t want anything. Only once in our eleven years of marriage did I fall victim to this evil trickery. Patience had told me not to worry about getting her anything for her birthday, because our anniversary is the day after, and we had plans to go do something. Being the kind-hearted (ignorant) husband that I was, I took her for her word. I got her nothing… literally, not a thing. She informed me the next day that I could have at least bought her a card. I informed her that buying her a card would not fall under the category of “nothing.” I have since adjusted the meaning of the word. 

I knew Patience was sincere with her request. I could sense she had no desire to have a big to-do for her thirtieth. So I began to brainstorm ways I could make her milestone a memorable one. This process started about six months ago, shortly after we had arrived home from Korea with our son, Wesley. She had told me that she would much rather do something fun with some of her close friends instead of blowing money on decorations and an elaborate cake. This was right up my alley. The only thing I love more than planning a trip, is making a memory.

Instead of having a bunch of people come to Patience for a party… what if she went to a bunch of people one at a time?

This was my original thought. 

I began to make lists of all the people in Patience’s life. I quickly realized my wife has a lot of friends… more than a person could visit in a day! I know this is a testament to Patience’s magnetic and loveable personality. As hard as it was to do, I had to narrow the list.

Why not thirty?

Yes! Thirty people for her thirtieth birthday! That would be perfect. I whittled the list down to the top thirty contenders. (If you did not make the cut, I apologize. Just know it was not an easy decision.) Once the list was in place, I had to track down all thirty friends and family, and I had to do it without Patience finding out. I decided to create an email address for the event: patienceisturning30@gmail.com. I began reaching out to each person to see if they could be involve. This proved to be quite a task, but every single person on the list committed to being a part of it! I had four months left to figure out how I was going to make this all work.

Words mean a lot to Patience; more than any gift you could buy her. I knew I needed to incorporate encouraging words into what I had dubbed “Patience’s 30th Scavenger Hunt.” I landed on a simple idea. Every person she encountered that day would have a decorated sign that read, “30 years of…” and an adjective describing Patience. Even better, the thought occurred to me that she could get her picture with all thirty people. 

Thirty people… thirty pictures... thirty encouraging words… for her thirtieth birthday.

I began by placing the people on the list in order by the area of town they were in, starting with our longtime friend Gina, who is also our son’s kindergarten teacher. Even with only allotting five minutes per person, fitting all thirty people into the day was beginning to seem impossible. Realizing it would be easier to group some people together, I began to think of ways to cut down the time to squeeze everybody in. After the schedule was completed, I sent out a final timeline to all the friends and family involved.

I also need to mention that we had several friends and family out of town that were involved as well. For this to work, they would have to mail or bring us their signs and gifts. All of the out-of-town gifts were then matched with the corresponding clue and preplaced into the car Patience would being riding in, which meant I needed somebody to give her each gift at the very moment she FaceTimed or Skype with the person out of town.

As you can see, this was beginning to get complicated. As I worked out the mechanics and timing of the scavenger hunt I was also beginning to create twenty five clues to lead her all over town. These clues started out difficult, but after realizing I was not trying to outsmart my wife, I decided to make them simple and fun. I secretly confiscated a box of pictures from the attic; all of them of Patience, spanning all the way from her birth to this year. I scanned the pictures into the computer, placed the text of the clue over each one, and printed them like photos. I placed each in a colorful envelope, put that envelope in a mailing envelope, and sent them off to all the participants.

Her first clue of the day

I continued to email everybody involved fairly consistently. I was paranoid that something was going to fall through. But each time I would get all the responses I needed. I was beginning to think that this might actually work.

One last detail… during those four months of planning I was also quietly slipping money out of each paycheck. The grand finale of Patience Scavenger Hunt was going to be a trip… to Disney World! Thankfully everything worked out perfectly for Patience’s three best friends to be able to go with her. At the end of the hunt she would receive the news that she and her girlfriends were heading to Disney two days later. I think the hardest part of this whole plan was keeping the Disney trip a secret from everybody for such a long time. But none of us cracked, and Patience had begun to believe I was going to take her up on her offer to not throw a party. In fact, she believed I had forgotten her birthday completely.

It wasn’t until this past Sunday that I dropped her a clue. I told her I had a little something planned for the following day, and that she needed to get herself something new to wear. I also inform her that she had to be ready early the next morning. She was completely surprised and very intrigued. The following morning I woke her up with breakfast at 5:45. Her eyes were burning as I walked her down to the kitchen table and began to explain what was in store.

“I took off work because you have a very special day ahead of you,” I said, trying to contain my excitement.

Patience looked back at me blankly with bloodshot eyes and a mouth full of pancakes. 

“I have planned a scavenger hunt for your thirtieth birthday, and today you will be visiting thirty people all over the city,”

“Thirty?” she asked.

“Yep, thirty people, and you have to get your picture made with each of them.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

I wasn’t convinced my idea was going to go very well by her response, but I handed her the first clue anyways. 

Shortly thereafter the hunt was on. I drove her and the kids to school. She followed the children inside to find the first person on her list. A few minutes later she came walking back out of the school with a big sign, a balloon, a gift, and a smile that made her glow.

The first stop of the day... the Potter girls.

The next clue was a Skype conversation with my cousin Amber in Columbus, Georgia. I pulled Amber’s gift and sign out from the back of the car as they talked. Everything was working perfectly. After hanging up with Amber, we made our way to our friends’ house, where Patience’s three best friends were all waiting. They would be joining her for the duration of the day. I parted ways with Patience just after she had taken pictures with each friend and their signs. 

For the remainder of my day off I ran around town with Wesley, picking up a few party supplies for the small dinner we were having at the end of the scavenger hunt. I would call occasionally to see how they were doing on time, and, to my surprise, they were always on schedule. The idea was a success, and Patience was having the time of her life riding around the city with her best friends, no kids, and no responsibilities.

When they pulled into our driveway at about 5:00 PM Patience was looking pretty fatigued. It’s not easy seeing thirty people in one day! The kids were dancing at the end of our driveway, and holding up the final sign of the day. She exited the car with a tired smile, and one by one, gave us all hugs and kisses.

The final surprise was the Disney trip. We had made a card that we told Patience to read out loud.

“An adventure has been planned in honor of your thirtieth birthday. All the details are already worked out. Open the box to find out where you are going and with whom.”

“What?!” Patience squealed.

She opened the small box to reveal four Disney bracelets with names under each. I am going to use the word “scream” but it really doesn’t do it justice. Suffice it to say, Patience was jumping and screeching like a nine year old at Christmas. (I hope to post the video soon!) She was in utter shock, and beside herself with excitement. 

The grand finale!

Later that night, before we were going to bed, Patience wrapped her arms around me.

“Thank you,” she said through tears, “I do not think I have ever felt more loved than I felt today.”

“That’s what I was going for,” I said with a smile.

“You know, you could’ve just done the scavenger hunt and that would’ve been more than enough.”

“I wish I would have known that. I could have really saved us some money!” I teased.

I went to bed that night with my heart happier than it has been in a long time. 

My wife spends day in and day out living her life for everybody but herself. She gives constantly, through her time and her talents, to anyone and everyone. She is a fiercely loyal friend, an incredibly wonderful mother, and an amazingly awesome wife. She is the most loving, giving, kindhearted, compassionate person I have ever met. So, it was nice to turn the tables for a day and celebrate her. 

So… I guess I need to go ahead and start planning for her fortieth birthday… because I am not sure how I am going to top this one!

Puke Covered Shoes

I was bagging a few groceries at Publix today when a wave of exhaustion washed over me. As I held out a box of Pop Tarts over the scanner, I found myself in a daze staring down at my shoes. When I snapped out of my momentary coma, I realized my boots were splattered in an orangish substance. I drew in a deep breath and shook my head in exasperation. My puke covered shoes pretty much summed up my day; a day that refused to go my way.

Earlier that morning (as in 2:00AM earlier) my wife, Patience, woke up violently ill in our Atlanta hotel room. Her sudden sickness came out of nowhere, and kept her up the rest of the morning. This was no ordinary stomach bug. This was something diabolical. (We later discovered it was food poisoning.) It wasn’t until 5:30 that morning that I realized I was going to be bringing our son, Wesley, to the hospital alone. We called the front desk of the hotel and found out about the late check out, so Patience could rest while Wesley and I were gone. I threw on my clothes, brushed my teeth, dressed Wesley, and quickly made my way to the parking garage where we left our car overnight.

I need to mention now the urgency of our appointment in Atlanta. We had been waiting four months to get Wesley in with a glaucoma specialist at Emory Hospital. Wesley’s doctor here in Chattanooga was worried about the potential of glaucoma, and said we needed to get him checked as soon as we could. With such a long wait, I was afraid if we missed this procedure we would have to wait another four months. That is precious time wasted when you are potentially losing vision. All that to say, I was anxious about the appointment before the day had even begun.

I decided to leave the stroller in the room, which, looking back was a stupid choice. It was dark and raining. The streets of Atlanta were empty as I practically drug Wesley behind me to get to the parking garage. We were running about ten minutes late, and I was starting to freak out. I picked up Wesley and began to run down the road. I am sure this looked like I had abducted an Asian boy and was making my getaway, but I didn’t care. My heart nearly stopped when I rounded the corner and saw our parking garage… locked up. 

“No!” I growled.

I put Wesley down as I began to assess the situation. We walked around the entire garage and there was no entry anywhere to be found. On top of that, there was no personnel, and no phone number to call. I kicked the sidewalk in frustration, as I called Patience.

“I’m locked out!” I stated dramatically.

“Locked out of where?” she replied in a throaty whisper.

“I can’t get into our garage!”

“Okay, well just calm down. I am sure there is a number…”

“There’s no number! There’s no person! What am I supposed to do?”

As soon as I spoke the words, a car pulled into the garage. I ran towards it like a crazed lunatic. Thankfully I had Wesley with me, which knocked down my creepiness factor by a few notches. The man explained I needed my entry card to swipe and the door would open. He warned me that I would not be able to get in without it.

I clenched my jaw. Patience had the card. I called her as I began to make my way back to the hotel. I explained to her the situation, and she began looking for the card in her purse. 

“I don’t have it,” she said, “It must be in the car.”

“I can’t get to the car!” I said in utter defeat.

By this time I was all the way back to the hotel. I turned around and began to make the trek back to the garage. All the while I am lugging a thirty-six pound Korean on my waist. I was sweating under my rain jacket like I was training for a marathon.

“I am just going to wait here. Maybe someone will show up.”

I paced the sidewalk in the dark, like a mad man; checking the time on my phone every ten seconds. A few minutes later a car pulled up to the garage, and the metal door began to rise. I stormed into the parking garage like a mom into Walmart on Black Friday. I finally got to the car. The only problem… there was no card to be found. I tore the car apart looking for the card, when my phone rang. 

“I found the card,” Patience said in a somber whisper.

“Well, I’m trapped in this garage now, so what am I going to do?” I asked in anger.

“I’ll run it to you,” she replied.

And so my sick wife ran three blocks to slip me an access card through the metal grating of the car garage. By the time I made it out of the Fort Knox of garages, it was 6:00AM… the time we were supposed to be checking in at the hospital. My heart was racing as I screeched out onto the streets of downtown Atlanta. I followed the GPS, and tried my best to abide by most traffic laws. Twenty minutes later we pulled into another parking garage at Emory. I snatched Wesley from his car seat and ran into the main entrance of the hospital.

“I need to find Children’s,” I said out of breath.

“You’ll need to pull out of this garage and drive down the road. It will be on your right,” the woman said with a smile.

Trying my best not to lose my mind I asked, “Can I not walk from here?”

“Oh, no… it’s too far to walk.”

So I picked up Wesley once again and ran back to the car. And guess what’s not there when I reach into my jacket pocket? The card! The access card is gone! I pulled out my wallet, emptied all my pockets…nowhere! I pulled the car apart again… nothing! All the while I am screaming, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

That’s when I hear a soft little voice come from the back seat.

“You okay, Daddy?” Wesley said concerned.

I guess he had never seen Daddy have a complete meltdown before.

“Yes, Wesley. Daddy will be okay when we get to the doctor,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Daddy, okay,” he repeated.

After ten minutes with no luck finding the card, I laid my head on the steering wheel. I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I pulled out of the parking spot and drove twenty five feet toward the exit gate, where a smiling man waited next to his booth. I explained my situation, and he explained I would have to pay twenty four dollars to exit without a ticket.

“I don’t care at this point, I just need to get to Children’s before my son misses his appointment,” I said as patiently as I could muster.

“Well, you can walk there from here,” he said with a smile, as he pointed me towards a building about a half of mile in the distance.

I parked my car and ran in the rain once again with Wesley in my arms. As I entered Children’s at Egerton, I began to feel better about the so-far terrible day I was having. Thankfully, our forty-five minute tardiness did not affect Wesley from having his procedure. We were greeted by the friendly staff at Emory and everything went smoothly for the rest of our time at Emory; though I did have pay the twenty four bucks.

I will write separately about Wesley’s medical condition, but in summary, the doctors confirmed that he has advanced glaucoma in his left eye. Wesley came out of anesthesia crying, and was glad to see me. Everything at Emory went so quickly, we were able to get back to the hotel before 10:00 AM. 

Patience was still in bed, and we tried to lay Wesley down as well, but the anesthesia had him drunkenly bouncing off the walls. I finally picked him up out of the bed, and brought him to look out of the window. The Ferris wheel at Centennial Park was rotating in the distance. I pointed it out to him, and he pretended as if he could see it. That is when he turned around and began to quietly throw up without any warning. I was able to get him to the tile near the bathroom, but the damage was done. 

I looked at Patience and said, “Let’s get out of here before one of us gets struck by lightning.”

We made our way back slowly to Chattanooga, stopping along the way to vomit and run to the bathroom. Suffice it to say, I was ready to kiss the front step of my porch when we were finally able to exit our puke-smelling SUV.

Despite all that went wrong today, I am grateful for mostly positive news about Wesley’s eyes. I am thankful for family and friends praying for us and encouraging us every step of the way. I even had one friend surprise me by dropping off an album I have been wanting in our mailbox. The golden sun was shining behind the dark rain clouds as I found the gift in the mail, and I was reminded that even on the cloudiest of days the sun can still pierce through.

We have a long way to go with Wesley’s vision. I am sure there will be plenty of more anxious nights to come, and maybe even some more frantic mornings. So I am going to wipe the puke off of my boots and take it one step at a time.