Unschoolers can really struggle with a calendar. Tuesday is just as good as Saturday for math practice, a day at the skate park, or a gallery tour at a local museum. My boys didn’t know what a “weekend” or “summer break” was for years.
Likewise, I don’t hold much stock in the end of the calendar or placing special meaning on it. However, we were invited to join in on an unexpected road trip to close out the year and couldn’t be more excited to finish this calendar year with another adventure.
A lot of caring folks worried about us this Christmas. It was my boys’ first without their mom and it has been the kind of year that not even Santa could survive. We didn’t buy a tree, half the morning’s loot was second hand, and we had a wonderful day. In fact, it was one of the most relaxed and enjoyable Christmases I can remember.
The boys did end up with a just-this-side-of-spoiled haul of Lego from family and we enjoyed a fantastic dinner with them.
We didn’t lean on traditions or work hard to do the things we were used to doing with Mom. We didn’t force anything. We exchanged gifts, started a fire, and spent simple time together.
My sons have been my greatest blessing this year. They inspire, challenge, and comfort me. They’re the reason I haven’t taken a break from my healing journey in over ten months. They are why we are thriving this Christmas.
We had snuck into a little spot at the edge of the balcony between a massive trumpet vine and the stone railing. It wasn’t quite like being against the barrier at a Rage Against the Machine show, but maneuverability was limited.
The effect was that the sunset was all we had. Even with all these people and their conversations around, we had this small space that directed all our attention at the horizon. We stretched our hands out and could feel the air cool, the wind rise, the light all around us change, and the sounds soften. My sons experienced the end of a day like they had never done before.
The next morning, my mind went to a TEDx talk on Paper Letter Exchange. How much has modernity removed us from fundamental experience? Not long ago, sunset would have been a critical moment of each day. Now we have to use Google to find out when it will happen. How much does the body and brain crave that moment when the sun disappears? How much is it needed for rejuvenation, relaxation, or to take time to start cataloging the day?
There’s more importance in “mindfulness” than I had thought before this journey. For me, prayer and meditation aren’t enough. I’ve got to record whatever is there after I clear my mind.
I struggled with taking pictures after Mary’s passing and I hadn’t taken many before I started caring for my sons. Mary enjoyed sharing our adventures and there were a lot of moments I only snapped for her. Until that day, I couldn’t come up with a good reason to maintain the record keeping. It’s another intangible, but it helps. If it can help me, I pray that I can use it to help others.
I’ve been a junkie for new information, new ideas, new challenges, and new disruptions for a few weeks. It caught up to me today just when I was feeling the flow and thought I had the upper hand on life.
I got cocky and life took a bat to my knees. I found myself praying to God for a way to see what I really was and what I should be doing. The pain of those questions was very nearly the most severe I have felt this year. I don’t know how many answers I’ve got, but I know I survived the confusion and have learned that I can go too far and too fast in my quest for self-discovery.
From Patsy Cline and Billy Holiday to Pigeon John and Metallica, Mary could enjoy a range of music like no one I had ever known. Rage Against the Machine, Cecile McClorin Salvant, Vanilla Ice, Shelby Lynne, Misstallica (aka Metallicunt), Matisyahu, Ted Nugent, Seu Jorge, and Esperanza Spalding highlight the spectrum of live music experiences we shared. She even backed me up on playing Christmas music for 30 days each December.
But not today. December 22nd was reserved for Mary’s birthday and Mary’s music. Michael Franti and Spearhead, Beastie Boys, Ben Harper, Gnarls Barkley, Heart, Billy Idol, Lenny Kravitz, and Luscious Jackson ruled the day.
Today I imagine she’s getting dolled up to see a heavenly music festival featuring T.Rex, David Bowie, Sharon Jones, and Chris Cornell.
We were blessed to choose homeschooling and to gradually evolve our philosophy toward unschooling, home education, and a holistic learning lifestyle. We had to deschool ourselves and break away from many of the poor learning habits we had internalized. It was, and still is, scary to turn away from our past paths and the present paths of almost everyone we knew. My wife and I discussed these decisions for hours and were dedicated to providing a better way for our sons. We were also dedicated to taking on the journey together. I was the bullhorn of home education and she was the quiet, steadfast warrior. We were a helluva team.
When Mary died, it was an unexpected disruption that would ripple out, echo back, and continue to vibrate through our lives. She left me with all her warrior strength and a little of her quiet steadfastness. It took me a few months, but I finally took up those gifts and embraced the disruption. Looking as deep into myself as I can stand I have chosen to take on my own demons and become a better father, man, and human.
Life is a series of disruptions, whether you steer into them or not. But life is a force of nature and fighting against change is not advisable. You will lose and it may tear you in half. Instead, put your hands out, close your eyes, and feel the air around you shift in place and temperature. Follow it. Set your sails to the coming wind and hold on. If you are careful enough and lucky enough you could be carried to a grand new land.
This Christmas has been refreshingly honest. We’re not trying to make it look like the Christmases we had with Mom. We’re taking possession of it and enjoying the music, movies, and Holy Spirit of the season. And for some reason, the Holy Spirit seems to be working overtime in our lives bringing us new adventures, friends, fun, joy, and peace. The Christmas magic has been strong and was ushered in as we said goodbye to some dishonest magic.
There’s no more Santa Claus here. I grew up without the myth and I didn’t want to raise our children with it, but Mary was passionate about bringing joy to the boys and had so much fun with it. Each year we took the boys to visit Santa and made sure that he put one of their requests under the tree. Wrapping paper was carefully designated, cookies and carrot were bitten into, and Santa always left a note in a familiar hand. I too loved to see their faces as they rediscovered these treasures each Christmas morning. It felt okay, but never right to me. My elder son figured things out when I lost my temper this summer and angrily murdered the Tooth Fairy myth. My younger denied the truth for some time, but came around about a month ago. I couldn’t keep it up this year. I’ve promised them that they could count on me for truthful answers to any questions, no matter how difficult. I’ve answered countless questions about their mom, her sudden illness, and her last week in the hospital. Santa no longer ranked for me. There’s real magic in the world. It doesn’t need a fictional story to be built around it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The more truthful and open we are with one another, the more connected we become, the closer we get to the core of each other. That’s where I often see God, in the common places we honestly and heartfully share.
I’m not one to chase around an arbitrary calendar, but this has been a hard year not to spend some time reviewing. I’ve experienced the deepest sadness I could imagine, yet I’ve had more moments of uplift and joy than I could begin to count. God decided to end my life as it was, yet He also brought me closer to understanding myself and those around me. He’s helped illuminate my world and show me stark contrasts between right and wrong, healthy and toxic. He’s given me a mission that I don’t fully comprehend, but I feel prepared to take on each day.
It’s a magic that one must be open to receiving. I’ve worked hard to open myself to the pain of others. My grief feels small and manageable when I touch the pain in another. Little bits of magic fly around whenever I can be fully present and share in someone else’s pain. Eventually, that magic coalesces into miracles and healing can occur.
I’ve been blessed in innumerable ways. Mary and our sons are their own set of miracles. I didn’t properly earn this life, I don’t think anyone could. I hope to take the miracles and blessings of my life and continue to heal myself while employing every lesson I learn to heal others.
After a couple exhausting, yet almost entirely positive, couple of days I’m ready to pause on my positive parenting regimen. I’m going on another road trip adventure and my partner in crime has proposed to engage the challenge together after the trip and the holidays.
This will not be a pause on my aim to be a better dad. I could hardly take a break from that if I wanted it. Rather, this will be a time to put ideas and strategies into practice and be most present for my children and loved ones during Christmas.
God was holding my hand today. From the homeless child who climbed into my arms before the sun was up, to the niece who made helping that child possible, to finding the perfect gift for my son, to surviving an excursion to the mall without spending a dime, to trusting a new friend to extend ever more grace, to being given another chance to help those in need, and to finish the day by meeting a widow and sharing our awful stories and our as-yet-unformed dreams.
For all the mistakes I can’t stop mulling over, God delivered a wave of successes to drag them out to sea today. He was telling me that I’m doing things right, that my mistakes will not break my trajectory, and that I’m aimed in the correct direction.
I worked through the exhaustion and self-doubt today to create positive solutions and alternatives everywhere I went.
I can’t wait to see what I can accomplish after a good night’s sleep.
