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Getting Got... and the muscle you never knew you had.

Joe was out walking the morning after his wife had given birth to their newborn baby when he bumps into one his wife's friends. “Joe”, the friend called out “How are you this morning? Tell me, what did your wife have, a boy or a girl?” “Umm” says Joe, "she had a skateboard”. “Don’t be silly”, says the woman. And instructs Joe to go back to the hospital and see his wife. Further down the road Joe sees another of his friends, Sally from work. She comes over to Joe and asks, “Joe, I heard your wife gave birth last night, what did she have, was it a boy or a girl?” Joe again looks somewhat perplexed and replies “Well, umm, she had a motorbike, that’s right a motorbike”. “Joe!” replies Sally. “You must have been up all night, please go back and see your wife right away”. As Joe returned to the hospital, he sees a nurse that helped them into a room the day before. Nurse Gemma comes over to Joe and asks the big question, “Joe, how did your wife go last night? I heard you had your baby, was it a boy or a girl?” Finally Joe is sure this time he knows the answer. “She had a race car! A bright red one” he responds with confidence. The nurse looks somewhat shocked, and again tells Joe to go right up to his wife’s room and find out for certain whether his wife had given birth to either a boy, or a girl.

Upon reaching his wife’s room on the maternity ward, Joe walks into the room and looks across at his wife laying somewhat saddened on the bed in front of him. As she looks up at him, He softly opens his mouth and eagerly asks his wife the question… “Honey, I’ve completely forgotten, please forgive me, but did we have a boy or a girl?” After a short pause Joe’s wife looks up at him and replies. “Joe, honey we had a miscarriage”. “Oh!” Joe exclaims “I knew it was something with wheels!”

In total ignorance I remember telling this ‘joke’ during my late teens, and with complete disregard to the level of insult it might bring if told to someone who had been impacted by the loss of a child pre-birth. Apart from highlighting just how ignorant men can be sometimes, (and obscenely obsessed with wheels), the joke also highlight just how insensitive men can be when it comes to understanding the painful plight conception can be, yet despite all this, I remember the joke got laughs almost every time I told it. Many years later at some point during our own journey experiencing infertility, this joke came back to mind, and I reflected on what could have been a very devastating word should it have fallen on certain ears.

I learnt all about a muscle I didn’t know I had over those years. My empathetic muscle. It’s usually sandwiched right between pain and heart-ache, and unearthed when the two are strained severely. It’s a muscle that rarely gets used, until you’re forced to acknowledge that no matter how painful your journey might be, there's always someone else out there fighting a more painful and challenging battle than you are. And you're finally left to discover that there are human people all around you needing support and understanding just like you are.

Right after our second failed IVF attempt, and about 5 years deep in tears, Em and I decide that we weren’t going to sit around and wallow in our pity on mother’s day again. Instead we decided to call a couple whom we knew were facing infertility challenges as well. And we took them out for lunch at a nice winery down south.

After this time and many more years of facing what seemed like an inevitable life with no offspring, I came to realize just how much empathy had grown in me for people who go through this same journey longing to conceive, nurture and raise a child as their very own.

But I discovered something even more powerful after this. Just as you strengthen a physical muscle in your body by lifting weights in a gym, those muscles are not limited to lifting dumbbells. Those same muscles are now used to lift all things. So now as I listened to peoples stories about pain around infertility, my heart still ached. But also as I heard about peoples story’s around business failure, my heart now ached. And as I heard stories around people’s sickness or disease, my heart also ached. I discovered that my ability to empathize and feel with or for those suffering in any other way had grown dramatically. Whether I had experienced what they were experiencing, or not. I could now empathize with anyone going though any of life’s challenges, providing I continued to work my empathetic muscle.

One of today’s greatest deficiencies is our inability to get others. We all know that rare and special someone who gives us the impression of understanding, even when they really have no idea what we're going through, and yet most of us don't know how to be that person for someone else. You know they’re sincerely listening to your heart, whatever it may be trying to express through your dampened & confused mind. That’s a person who, whether they have experienced what you are going through or not, gets you. They’re lifting weights right in that moment. The weights of empathy. And it’s that level of understanding that builds trust and rapport like no other. Whether in the increasingly apathetic workplace environments we exist, or the sympathy’s demanded through the avatar worlds of social media, what’s really missing is our sincerest ability to empathize with one another, no matter what our experiences have been, and no matter what our beliefs might be. Find someone who gets you, open up to them, and get got today.

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Trepidation meets vulnerability

I have been soccer-moming today.

And it’s not the first time either. Not long after the kids came to us, I had to take the kids to school by myself. I got up early and got organised. Got the kids in the car, and picked up a drive-thru coffee on the way. It wasn’t until I got to the school to get the kids out of the car that I realized what this was.

I have a one year old on my hip, latte in the other hand. I’m yelling at the two older kids getting out of my illegally verge-parked Toyota Prado, wearing active wear with no intention of doing anything active. Realising exactly how this looks, I embrace it and strut into the class area owning it.

I’m in a similar situation today because Em has gone to a training day supporting foster parents, it’s all about ‘managing disobedience’. I recommend that she go so that she can bring us both some tools to help nurture our kids, but I’m a little nervous now she may try to use these new skills on me!

Over the years we’d tried to conceive a baby, I always said to Em that I hoped our kids were more like her than me. I couldn’t handle more of me. I was pretty rebellious as a kid and disobedience was my forte. God help me if I had to raise a child like me.

Gods good like that I think. Our three are gems in one way or another. The course is more about equipping ourselves and learning all about working with kids who may have experienced trauma or anything untoward.

Book Launch will be at the Rose Hotel Bunbury on the 10th June, 7.30pm in the lounge bar.

Book Launch will be at the Rose Hotel Bunbury on the 10th June, 7.30pm in the lounge bar.

On another note…

We have set a release date for my book. June 10th at the local pub. And to be honest it’s with some trepidation that I look forward to the launch. The book is all about my story, and it’s told without holds. I have many friends, both within Christian circles, some of whom know little about my past. And I still have many close friends whom are not yet Christians, and understand little of my life’s transformation in recent years.

The reason for telling my story (I think- I was just obeying God) was twofold. One was because I realized that people going through tough times, need real testimonies to light the way through the pain. Relate-able, encouraging, & honest stories of God’s faithfulness to testify about the God whom they trust in. And maybe if he can do it for me, then he can most certainly do it for you.

Secondly because I got sick of hearing the comment, “Men need to rise up and…” (fill in the rest as suits your agenda). And although the comment is generally used in a positive sense, it got me thinking. ‘Do men really need to rise up?’ Wars and battles, murders and rapes have been driven by this manly desire to ‘rise up’. And these things are not good things by any stretch of the imagination.

It came to me that the only way men will ever be lifted is by Gods’ hand, and to position one’s self in said hand, you’d need to first get on your knees. That’s right, I believe men will only ever rise up on their knees in complete surrender and vulnerability. Exposing all for God to see, and being vulnerable with those around that, in the same position can help that Man overcome his hurdles and become all that God intended for him to be.

So instead of combating this commonly used phrase, I thought I’d just do it. Be vulnerable. Almost every single one of my more significant mistakes will be published on black and white paper for all to see. And I’m completely OK with that. On my journey in recent years I've discovered something very profound...

Vulnerability is the gateway to change.

I understand my mistakes don’t define me, but they have certainly helped shape who I am today. Without them, and without seeing how great they are, I would simply have never understood how much greater my God is. And that’s worth more than any mistake will ever cost me.

So with some nerves abounding I look forward to seeing my story provoke other men to step out and surrender all, to express their vulnerable stories, warts and all. And commit to see God do what only he can do, transform and re-build what seems broken beyond repair.

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Slow your Soul

I got out of Bed at 9am today.

I walked out the door of my room, enjoyed a full cooked breakfast with coffee and juice, and then helped myself to a second plate of freshly sliced pineapple, among other tropical fruits, all with zero interruptions.

Then I walked shirtless back to my room via a quick dip in the pool. I did all this very slowly, almost as if it were in slow motion. And I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Life has been super busy lately, and by lately, I mean the last 6 months, culminating to the last 48 hours. I’ve been working hard on getting my book ready to be published, and with my involvement at church, and full time fatherhood inescapable, you know the rest of the story.

Externally life has been in top gear. Yet internally I’ve felt like my world has been in some kind of slow motion film. ‘Slow’ has never been me. In fact, “slow down” were literally the most common words ever spoken over me as a kid. At one job a few years back I earnt the nick-name “one speed”, and yep you guessed it, that speed was FLAT OUT.

Slow has to me always meant, well… slow. Maybe I still don’t get it. All I know is that up until recently, I didn’t enjoy ‘slow’ in any way, shape or form.

Externally or internally.

Today is the first day of our week long hiatus from routine life. Holidays. And it’s the first time Em & I will be away from the kids since God sent them to us. Seven days in total. Our anniversary was 2 days ago, 11 years on the 11th of March. We’ll never be able to re-visit that one again. It’s in the past now.

Slowing down externally is one thing, but internally? What does that look like?

After years of enjoying Adam Sandler movies, I gave-up on my man-crush with the release of the movie ‘Click’ a few years back. Even though ‘Click was a terrible movie, the power the main character possessed in the movie was something of incredible symbolism for many men.

Frustrated by the speed of life and the ever increasing amount of work, and equally decreasing amount of time to spend doing the things he really wants to do with his life, Adam Sandler’s character is presented with an option to begin ‘controlling’ his life.

Disturbing is the sound of one Christopher Walkin’s accentuated voice hitting my ears in this particular scene. Sandler meets Walkins’ character in a home-wares store back-room and returns home with a TV remote (sort of) ready to take control of his life.

Pausing, rewinding, fast-forwarding and (my favorite) muting the people around him, Sandler finds himself in an inevitable situation concluding that, should you ever actually possess some kind of magical remote control that enables such control to your life, sooner or later, you’ll wish you never had it in the first place.

I have learnt three other things in my life.

1. Control is an illusion.

2. Life will not be OK when you get everything the way you want it.

3. Slow must exist on the inside before it does on the outside.

There is absolutely nothing outside ourselves in this world that we can control. Yet many men spend pretty much every single waking hour of their lives doing just that, chasing ghosts in an attempt to achieve the un-achievable… full and total control.

Let me hand you some lotto numbers for tonight’s 50 Billion dollar life-jackpot.

CONTROL DOES NOT EXIST.

Whilst wasting such energy chasing it, we miss the one and only thing in this world that we can control.

Ourselves.

Slowing our internal worlds whilst the pace around us is ever grabbing gears, is probably the single most difficult thing a man can do. Aside for maybe asking for forgiveness.

How can one ‘get ahead’ when they are simply far too busy ‘getting by’?

I’ve been in this situation before, and I can tell you the anxiety and stress I felt during this season in my life was probably one of the greatest weights I’ve ever carried.

The answer lies not in getting the outside world to slow down, but the inside. And lads, please do not stop reading after the next line.

You need to ‘slow your soul’ down.

Like as in ‘Soul Surfer’? or like ‘Billy Joel’ kinda Soul?

You’re confused?

YES. YOU HAVE A SOUL.

And if you can learn to control your soul, then it will slow down. Life will become less like an Adam Sandler ‘Click’ experience and more like a Helen Hunt 'Twister' scene in slow motion.

You know the one at the end of the film when there is nothing left and all their life’s work is up in the air and all their standing in the middle of a very large storm just staring up in complete joy & satisfied accomplishment.

Well that’s the soul state we’re aiming for. When all your life’s work is up in the air like a scene from a Helen Hunt movie, and you are just looking on in slow-motion, completely over-joyed that it is, just exactly what it is.

A beautiful mess.

An Island Revelation

 

My wife and I took a trip to Lombok Indonesia a few years back to try to switch-off during what was a tough time back at home. We met some amazing locals, three of whom feature in this little amateur film I made about our time there.

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Preaching & Plunging

Last night I shared a message at our church about identity.

This morning I find myself ankle deep in acidic fecal matter.

It was a pretty good message if I do say so myself. For thirty five minutes I spoke about who we are, and to whom we belong. A.W. Tozer says, "what comes to mind when we think about God is the most important thing about us".

Does how we view & think about God matter more than anything else? Some may argue the importance of Tozers' comments, I however cannot.

The liquid substance eating at my ankles was once drain blockage, composed of only God knows what three children and two adults can dispose of down the shower drain. Dinky cars or dolls, loofahs and Lego maybe. I do remember a few occasions recently where it was the easier option to simply shower the fecal matter from my toddler rather than wipe and powder it.

As hard as it may seem when you are holding at arms length a baby girl, screaming from the burning sensation the strawberry infused stool is causing to the small of her back, I am regretting that decision right about now. I do try my hardest to make decisions that aren't going to sabotage my own future, but I missed this one.

I invested two jars of caustic 'draino' into the pipe, and warned the kids about staying clear to avoid burns to their skin. This involved explaining acid burns, which I'm sure left a graphic image in their 5 and 6-year-old minds. With still no improvement from the quick fix option, I now find myself standing in the plumbing aisle of my local hardware warehouse on a Saturday morning with a half eaten sausage in one hand, my sons' drink in the other, scouring the shelves for a fix to my problem.

I come to the 'you've got a serious problem' aisle between the 'you need a new toilet' and the 'lets install a DIY kitchen' sections. Seven different types of drain plungers ranging in both price and size, and no doubt efficiency greet me on the bottom shelf. My son, in his eagerness to help starts to test out each model on the smooth concrete floor underfoot. And it's not long before we have four plungers suctioned to the polished corridor cement which he's now weaving though like an Olympic slalom skier.

After much testing and deliberating, together we choose the $7.95 option. It's cheap, yet should fit nicely over the drain. And it has damn good suction hold. So much in fact that our test model had to stay right there on the slalom course.

Now returning to the problem site, not only am I ankle-deep in bubbling faeces and hair, the caustic has made me acutely aware of every possible microscopic breach in the skin of my feet. With my feet melting away beneath me I start plunging right way, and within a few motions, the fluid around my feet begins to subside. I add more fresh water to wash away the 'matter' that starts to come up and infuse the air in the cubical. We have a no farting policy in the shower for good reason, steam and methane is never a good combination so I keep the water temp cold to minimize the brain damage. More plunging, more draino, and more fresh water is required before the problem is fully resolved and the air begins the clear.

Finally the job is complete, and I let the kids know that the drain is unblocked and the acid is gone making the area completely safe once again. Following this I move to the back yard to peel 25 layers of caustic softened skin from the soles of my feet.

I find myself learning about God through the most unusual of circumstances sometimes.

Later that night, my son came inside for a shower excessively burnt from the afternoon sun. I helped him into the shower, and at first all was as usual. I walk out and within a few steps down the hallway, I about turn and speed back to my son's screaming and wailing.

He was seemingly confused, and evidently in pain.

He was shouting at me that the acid was burning his skin. Huddled in the corner of the cubical afraid of even the smallest drop of 'acid' touching his skin, I can see the image I laid in his mind was playing out in his present reality. Or was it? Unaware of the severity of his sunburn, which the warm shower water exasperated, my boys believed that somehow, and for some reason, I was inflicting this pain on him.

As adults, we too can live out our lives like this, confused about what our father is really putting us through. We have our own visions and ideas of what might come of our situation, unaware that all the way through our father is trying to protect us. Confusion and fear take hold and we live our lives huddled in the corner, with zero belief that a small, simple adjustment could actually bring us relief.

I leaned in, and turned the hot water tap down to cool the water flowing from the shower head. I then came down to my boys's level, and in a soft gentle voice assured him that he needed to trust me. As he argued, I gentle drew him nearer to the cool water, which relieved his sun burnt skin and the crying stopped.

I could have easily just turned both taps off, ending the situation instantly, and bringing my sons' pain to an end. But what would he have learnt? That crying get things solved? Hardly. The real issue was not the acid, or the sunburn. It was his unbelief. If my son had honestly believed that the moment I told him the acid was all gone, it truly was all gone, we would never have gone through this ordeal in the first place.

But attaching doubt to my words, he really didn't believe that no matter how painful his present situation was, I had made the shower safe for him. More so if he had paused for just a moment to hear my voice, he would have heard me offer a solution.

Our view of our eternal father matters. And His word matters. I believe more so than anything else. But do we really believe our fathers words? And if I didn't, or my view of Him was skewed, how do I even change this?

We all need to allow God to place faith in us, and grow our faith through experiences with Him. This process is almost always painful. Do you really believe that no matter what you are going through, that it's not in vain, and it's not just pain? What if you honestly believed today, that in every single situation you find yourself, God is working all things for YOUR good. Really. Do you believe that?  Most of us don't, we're so busy complaining about the fact that things aren't going the way we had planned (even though there probably better than what you had planned) that we can't hear His voice and we forget the most important thing.

God is MY father.

He wants to protect me, to bless me, to guide me and to prosper me. It's the natural will of any father, let alone a perfect one. But your present situation argues with this, and eventually you'll find yourself saying things like this... "how can God do this to me" or "why would God make us go though this". The answer is simple. 

Because He loves you THAT MUCH.

When I became a father overnight I discovered something very quickly. No father, under any circumstances, ever wants to discipline their child. You just don't want to do that. But you know, deep down inside, no matter how hard it will be for you, and for your child, that because you love them THAT MUCH, it has to be done.

That's the beauty of God allowing us to go through suffering and pain. He simply loves you THAT MUCH that no matter how confused you are, you must understand that He is shaping your view of Him.

From sadist, to father? Maybe  it's not that extreme for you, or maybe it is.

My prayer for you is that you would accept this kind of love from your eternal father, not if, but when He shows it to you, and that you believe, though it seems simply too good to be true, that it really is THAT GOOD.

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