'Treasures' Stoke Fire, Night to Remember

I did it – I burned my “treasures.”

Expired driver’s licenses...gone.

Newspaper articles with my byline...gone.

My high school diploma...gone.

Sitting around a fire pit – under a blanket of the brightest Texas stars that I can remember– I created one of the most profound memories of my life. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments – filled with so much emotion, reflection and hope.

Reminder: I came up with this “Life Bonfire” to simply purge some of the personal “crap” that I felt compelled to hold on to all these years.

I NEVER dreamt it would turn into such an amazing journey. It was so extraordinary, I almost don’t know where to start.

How about the beginning? Makes sense, right?

Last Friday, I loaded up a box of my keepsakes and headed out to my parents’ house. They live in the country, and I thought it would be the perfect backdrop for this personal exploration. I also invited a couple close friends to be part of the adventure.

After dinner, and the kids were tucked into bed, we poured some adult beverages, put on some Texas Country Music and lit the fire. It was not an A&M-inspired inferno, just an above-average campfire. (“Bonfire” was definitely a stretch.) I lit a cigar and started to stoke the blaze with my memories.

– – –

If I had to describe how I felt before my “Life Bonfire,” I would say anxiety outweighed all the other emotions.

If I had to describe my emotions as I started to toss things into the flames: Reflective and alive.

If I had to describe my state of mind afterwards: At peace and inspired. (Not to mention intoxicated – the Jameson really helped me battle the sentimental hoarder who lives inside me.)

The best part of the evening was the conversations sparked by the fire (pun intended). The wonderfully great part was the fact that the dialogue was NOT all about me and my “crap.” I’d throw something in the fire, and someone would share about a particular moment in his or her life, tell a story about a similar keepsake or simply offer a judicious nugget for the group to chew on.

It wasn’t forced or scripted conversation – just insightful and fun. There were a lot of laughs – and not a single tear. More often than not, someone would share something profound and we’d just tuck our lips, nod our heads, and expel a barely audible, “Hmmm.”

I wanted to share some of the commentary, because it definitely does the best job of capturing the essence of the evening:

• We gave our opinion on why we thought people hold on to these "treasures." TK offered the most weighty perspective: “I just think a lot of people are scared they’re going to be forgotten.” WOW!

• We also decided that our “crap” simply helps us remember – it's a trigger mechanism. Maybe it doesn't enhance a memory, but it does remind you to stop and reflect.

• Our friends, who live in Bastrop, brought a unique perspective to the conversation. Last summer, their community – which is located just east of Austin – was devastated by some of the worst wildfires in the history of the state. More than 1,600 families lost everything in the fires – and here I was, actually burning my stuff on purpose.

It made me feel a little guilty, but it reminded me of something I wrote in my initial post: “I want to take the inevitable into my own hands...” More than anything, it made me sad for those families. They didn’t get the opportunity to “say goodbye” to their “treasures.” I feel fortunate that I did.

• You have no idea how much I appreciated the comments I received following my initial post. They were so enlightening and thought-provoking. We discussed these comments at length around the fire. It was neat to get everyone’s thoughts and opinions, but it was even more interesting to discuss them as my mementos turned to ashes in front of us. (If you haven’t already read these comments, I encourage you to scan them. If you shared a comment...thank you!)

• We all agreed that there is a fine line between being a sentimental hoarder (keeping anything and everything) and being flippant and/or reckless (“BURN IT ALL!”)

That’s a great bridge to this necessary point of clarification: I did NOT burn everything. (I’m sorry if I gave ANY indication that I was jumping off the deep end and torching every keepsake in my possession.) Before I loaded up my box and took it out to the country, I scanned through all my “junk” and made a judgment call.

Here’s an example of three things that were NEVER considered for the burn pile:

Book of poems and short stories

from my high school creative writing class

High school letters & patches

(why they were never put on a jacket is beyond me)

The board game I created when I asked TK to marry me

I received some great advice about handling similar “treasures” in the future: Use one box and only keep the best of the best. If your box gets full, don’t start another box – decide if that keepsake is more important/sentimental than a particular item already in the box and replace it if it is. LOVE IT! (Thanks, Nina)

The items pictured above will definitely be the first things in my new “treasure chest.”

There were also three items that snuck into the burn pile and were rescued at the last minute. For some reason, I unfolded each one of these keepsakes right before I tossed them into the fire. After reading them, I decided I couldn’t let them go:

• A note from my mom. It simply said:

“Dad said this morning that the day you were born goes down as one of the best days of his life...mine too. ILY, Mom.”

– – –

• A letter I wrote to my extended family about the love between my grandparents (I wrote it from the perspective of my grandfather):

Excerpt: “Not everyone can understand exactly what it’s like when my wife, my soul-mate, my best friend takes hold of my hand...”

– – –

• A poem about my high school friends (I promise I wasn’t a HUGE dork growing up):

Excerpt: “A friend will be beside you and do whatever he can...To put a smile on your face and warmth in your heart....A friend does not care if you belch or you fart.”

These three "treasures" exemplified love and gratitude to me – two things I’m convinced have the power to change the world. I wanted to save these mementos to help drive home that point to my son.

They will also find a new home in my “treasure chest.”

– – –

The last thing I burned on Friday night was my infamous high school diploma.

I was really OK with it – and I wasn’t 100 percent sure that I would be. I think it was because of the strong opinions I received either way about putting it in the fire.

Confession: The expired driver’s licenses were harder for me to let go of. I’m not sure if it was because of the photos, the uniqueness of each one OR the fact every single person sitting around the fire said: “I still have one my grandparents’ licenses.”

It forced me to quickly ask myself these questions again: Should I hold on to this and share it with Crash when he's older? Will he care?

Then I smiled and tossed each ID into the fire – one at a time.

As each one melted in front of me, I smiled even more and made a personal vow to myself:

“I will leave plenty of ‘treasures’ for my kids to cherish, but they will be a lot more impactful than a laminated piece of paper with an awkward, deer-in-the-headlights photo on it.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the first of three blog posts revolving around my “Life Bonfire.” For my next post, I’ve asked TK and my friends to share their written perspective from the experience.

Burn Notice: Personal Effects Going Up in Smoke

This Friday, I’m going to burn my high school diploma.

The wonderfully great part of that story – it’s only the start of something much, much bigger: A “Life Bonfire” – my opportunity to purge some of the personal “crap” that I’ve felt compelled to hold on to all these years.

I’m going to torch personal effects like...

• Honors and awards

• Projects

• Random keepsakes

Rationale: I’m going to burn anything that I don’t want to burden others with when I’m gone – high school diploma included.

I got this idea when my great aunt passed away several years ago.

When she died, my mom was responsible for handling all the stuff she left behind. She shared keepsakes with other members of our family, donated some items to charitable causes and sold the rest in an estate sale.

But there were a handful of things – personal, one-of-a kind items – that fell into a unique category. These were keepsakes that only had three logical destinations: A box in a loved one’s attic, in the landfill or on the wall of an Applebee’s.

I asked my mom for some examples of these personal treasures she found at my great aunt's house:

• An autograph book from when my great aunt was in the 7th grade. My mom said it was a popular keepsake for teenage girls, where their friends could write sweet notes to you and/or about that person.

• My great aunt's certificate for Junior Red Cross training. It was probably 85 to 90 years old.

Both very personal items that immediately did not have any relevance or significance with my great aunt gone. I'll admit, it’s a little sad to think about, but it’s part of life, right?

I discovered a long time ago that the picture below is not practical...

...so my solution: "Life Bonfire."

I’ve been thinking about this ceremonial blaze since I walked through my great aunt’s house one last time. That was my opportunity to pick out anything and everything that I wanted to hold on to.

There wasn’t anything.

That might sound harsh and cold, but a 7th-grade autograph book and/or a random certificate weren’t going to enhance the incredible memories I had of my mom's aunt, who was like a third grandmother to me.

The wonderfully great memories I had were enough for me.

Not to mention, I had my own junk that I'd been accumulating for 35+ years.

But that did NOT keep my mom from gently persuading.

“Don’t you want this?”

“How about that?”

Then she mentioned the fire.

"You know whatever we can't rid of, we're probably going to have to burn," she said.

I think it was mainly a take-something-please tactic, but my mom's plea simply made me shift my focus and perspective to my life...to my keepsakes...to my personal “treasures.”

As we drove home that night, I started thinking normal, healthy, every-day thoughts. You know... “What if we were killed in a car accident tonight and someone had to go through all our crap?”

"I don’t want somebody else burning my stuff," I thought to myself. "More importantly, I don’t want it to end up in some box in Crash’s closest so his kids’ kids can donate it to the landfill someday."

“Now who was Drew again, Grandpa Crasher?”

“Why is his mouth open in all these pictures? He looks silly!”

At this point of the post, I think it’s important to share this quick note: I’m not dying and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. (I’ve got too much to do.) I simply thought a “Life Bonfire” was a chance to reminisce one last time and purge. Take the inevitable into my own hands and live out the Neil Young creed: “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

So, that’s what I’m doing.

This Friday night, I’m going to pour me a glass of Jameson, fire up a cigar and stoke a blazing bonfire with some of my "treasures." I might share a story about each item before it's turned to ashes, or I might just tuck my lips, nod my head and sigh as I give it toss into the flames.

I wanted to share some of the things I'm letting go of. Here are some of the general items:

School Projects

Old newspaper articles that I wrote during and after college

Internship Projects

Photos

Certificates and Awards

Race Numbers

Stuff from Former Jobs

Printed Collateral from e-Partners in Giving,

the failed company I started in 2008

Some of the items are a little more unique and personal (Confession: A little harder to part with):

A Letter of Recommendation

My first newspaper story – EVER.

(from Journalism I in ninth grade)

Cartoons and doodles from junior high

My self portrait from my college photography class

My Infamous High School Diploma

FINAL THOUGHTS: I had a couple people read through this before I hit "Publish Post." I had an uneasy feeling. Something didn't feel right.

One of my friends said, "As an outsider, it might sound a little harsh."

That's the last thing I want to come across.

I want to stress how interesting and emotional this personal experiment has been. I've experienced a wave of emotions – from sadness to confusion. I've also debated whether I should actually go through with it.

A countless number of questions have surfaced, like:

• Should I hold on to this stuff and share it with Crash when he's older? Will he care?

• Is getting rid of your parents' and/or grandparents' "treasures" just part of life? Am I denying my grandchildren this opportunity?

• Am I being insensitive and/or hyper-cynical?

• Will I regret this in 10 or 15 years?

• Should I just put this "crap" back in the attic and shut the hell up?

Please know...I'm not discounting these incredible memories – just the trivial symbols associated with them.

My high school graduation was one of the best days of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. It represented an incredible journey and tremendous hope of things to come. It was a springboard to independence – the first step towards my future and destiny. I remember never feeling more confident, alive and excited. IN. MY. LIFE.

I don't need a piece of paper to enhance that memory.

I'm really curious how other's feel about this. Please share. (And keep the fire extinguisher close by.)

Confessions of a Recovering Introvert

A lot of people would say that I toe the line between confident and cocky.

I'm OK with that, but it's important that these same people know and understand that it's not the whole story. I've actually worked my whole life to "coach up" a shy little boy.

The image above was a fifth-grade art project. I distinctively remember my parents asking my teacher why I was looking down. She replied: "He always has his head down."

So, maybe I've continuously over-compensated since the fifth grade, but that bashful and unsure little boy has always been lurking. Even today, I have to do everything in my power to keep him from storming the castle.

Sometimes friends, family and "fans" provide necessary reinforcement – a shot of confidence that squashes any doubt and/or uncertainty that I've allowed to creep in.

I wanted to share an e-mail that I received from my friend Paige. She is one of my "Live the List" adoptees. She sent me this message after reading one of my blog posts.

As a word of encouragement, I think you're doing the right thing in life. A lot of excuse makers in the world. People need mentors.

My father-in-law works for the city of Irving. Loves his job. It doesn't provide much but they get by...barely. Six kids. In drawers around the house you will find novels and/or short stories he's written. Often Barry thinks of giving up cartooning/illustration as it provides no stable/primary income. I tell him that my children will not find his work hidden in drawers some day because he gave up on what he loved.

My mom went to Trimble Tech, which is a vocational school, because she wanted to do cosmetology. Her GUIDANCE COUNSELOR basically told her she would be better off as a secretary. My mom is a secretary. I'm sure she is a good one. But I think her real talent is cosmetology, never fully developed. My mom also believes she has no talent.

My uncle is a GREAT western, bronze sculptor. Mountain men, Indians, wildlife. It is very expensive to get them cast in bronze, so most of his stuff was just wax as he worked on them. He moved to Houston to (give up himself) take care of his ailing uncle and aunt. They could not understand why he wasted time doing the sculptures when he had a good job. He kept them in their back add-on. One weekend when he was out of town, my aunt turned off the window unit to the room. Years of work melted, along with part of his soul. Has not done art since.

Like your blog said, it is sad to watch people never find their potential and their gifts and live in complacency. Looking forward to the website. Write your book.

While the entire e-mail is wonderfully great and powerful, the last three words were inspiring.

Write. Your. Book.

Thank you, Paige.

Sincerely,

A recovering introvert

MOM: 'Live Every Minute'

Just received a wonderfully great text message from my mom. Just ANOTHER reminder that things move fast...

"Reality Check...Driving to Wichita Falls and saw signboard for MSU. Dad said: 'Wasn't it about 20 years ago we were driving up here with Drew to checkout Midwestern.' "

My mom responded "No way!" Then, she thought about it.

The rest of her text message:

"Then I realized it was ONLY 19 1/2 years ago. Live every minute...it goes by way too fast. Kiss C-Man for me. ILY"

As the dad of an up-and-coming two year old, my response was short and sweet: "I already know. TRUST ME!"

___________________________________

IF YOU LIKED THIS POST, CHECK THESE OUT:

• Advice: Enjoy Every Minute of It – Especially the 'Oatmeal Kisses'

• Life Has No Rewind Button – You Might As Well Live 'Full Throttle'

• Son's scream of death has scared me away from enjoying daily blessing

YOU Can Change the Course of Human History!

I'm firmly convinced that good leaders know when to follow. I'm sure someone smarter than me "owns" that quote, but I don't have the time to scour the internet looking for it.....

THE CLOCK IS TICKING.....I HAD TO SHARE THIS!

After watching one 29-minute video this morning: I'm officially engaged in a movement determined to bring one of the world's worst war criminals to justice.

I'm not leading....I'M FOLLOWING!

Part of my engagement in this mission is sharing a VERY powerful video.

NOTE: This is one of those posts that doesn't need a lot of commentary from me. This video speaks for itself.

I will say this, though, I know you're already creating trivial excuses in your head why you're not going to invest 29 minutes in this video:

STOP!

TRUST ME!

WATCH IT!

• Watch it over lunch;

• Watch it instead of pretending to do work;

• Watch it on your IPhone while your kid is at soccer practice;

• Watch it instead of the reality bullsh your going to watch on TV tonight;

• Log out of Facebook for 30 minutes and focus on something more profound than what you're eating for dinner;

• Put down your copy of "The Hunger Games" and get educated about real kids, really getting killed for nothing more than "personal power."

I'm embarrassed that I didn't know about this before this morning. What kind of narcissistic, self-centered bubble do I live in?

NOT ANYMORE!

The Worst Thing to Fear: Failure

We put so much emphasis on winning that if failure is even a remote possibility, some people won’t even try.

Tragic.

I wanted to share a tremendous illustration of that heartbreaking mind-set. I was introduced to this story at church a couple weeks ago. While the example of God's love is powerful, I think this story can be told without any religious undertones.

This distressing story revolves around people selling themsleves short and being paralyzed by failure:

You Already Have an 'A'

Robin found herself in a very difficult English Literature course that she desperately wanted to get out of. She sat there on her first day and thought, “If I don’t transfer out of this class, I’m going to fail. The other people in this class are much smarter than me. I can’t do this.” She came home and with tears in her eyes begged her dad to help her get out of the class so she could take a regular English course.

Her dad said, “Of course.”

So the next day, he took her down to the school and went to the head of the English department. The dad’s account:

She (the head of the English department) looked up and saw me standing there by my daughter and could tell that Robin was about to cry. I said, “I’m here to get my daughter out of that English class. It’s too difficult for her. The problem with my daughter is that she’s too conscientious. So, can you put her into a regular English class?”

The teacher said, “Mr. Brown, I understand.” Then she asked, “Can I talk to Robin for a minute?”

She said, “Robin, I know how you feel. What if I promised you and 'A' no matter what you did in the class? If I gave you an 'A' before you even started, would you be willing to take the class?”

My daughter is not dumb! She started sniffling and said, “Well, I think I could do that.” The teacher said, “I’m going to give you an A in the class. You already have an A, so you can go to class.”

Later the teacher explained to Robin’s father what she had done. She explained how she took away the threat of a bad grade so that Robin could learn English.

Robin ended up making straight A's on her own in that class.

– – –

I often refer to Max Lucado's wonderfully great stance on fear. I thought it would be appropriate to share again:

"Fear never wrote a symphony or poem, negotiated a peace treaty or cured a disease. Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry. Fear never saved a marriage or a business. Courage did that. Faith did that. People who refused to consult or cower to their timidities did that. But fear itself? Fear herds us into a prison and slams the doors."

Happy National Random Acts of Kindness Week!

February 13-19 is National Random Acts of Kindness Week.

Who knew!

Once I figured out this wasn't a bogus chain e-mail, I embraced the mission with both arms. I encourage everyone to take the emphasis off themselves periodically throughout the week. Who knows where a random act of kindness will take you.

Your daily call to action:

Question: Eat a Bowl of CricketsOR Take a Long, Hard Look in the Mirror?

Someone recently told me: “You ask a lot of questions.”

I’m not sure if she meant the point-blank comment as a compliment, but that’s exactly how I took it.

“Thank you,” I replied with a smile. “What’s your favorite food?”

I think asking questions is an important part of life – it’s the only way you’re going to get answers. It’s the best way to obtain information. I also think it’s the only way to start and/or carry a conversation.

My family has always been “question askers.” We even had a book around the house when I was growing up, creatively entitled: “The Book of Questions.” (I’ve referenced it on this blog before – it was the source of some inquisitive gems: “Would you eat a bowl of crickets for $40,000?”)

Obviously, I’ve taken this practice to a championship level. (Reminder: “You ask a lot of questions.”)

But I feel like my question asking has evolved from the “What ifs” and “Would you rathers.” While I’ll still throw out these conversation starters from time to time – I’ve recently determined that the best questions are the ones we ask ourselves.

The champion of this self-induced interview: “Why am I doing this?”

This question cuts to the heart of the matter – especially when you point the barrel of the question gun to your forehead.

Whether it’s your career, a specific project or a random act of nothingness, answering this question honestly can put everything into perspective. Maybe it’s a project you’re working on around the house, a hobby and/or a blog you write occasionally.

“Why am I doing this?”

Maybe it’s something you do when no one is looking, a guilty-pleasure TV show that you watch every week and/or your chosen career path.

“Why am I doing this?”

In my idealistic world, I’d hope that everyone had an altruistic and/or inspiring answer – even if it’s nothing more than: “I love doing it” or “It makes me happy.”

Tragically, I’m convinced that many people don’t have a clue. They just do – whatever it is they do – over and over and over again without knowing why. They just continuously go through the motions.

The worst part: Instead of a little self-analysis from time to time – most people just gripe.

“I hate doing this!”

“I can’t wait until it’s over!”

“Damn, this sucks!”

Confession: I recently fell into this go-through-the-motions trap (and complained about it the whole time).

During a volunteer project gone-wrong, I put on my victim hat and started to bitch and moan. I was screaming from the rooftops:

“Woe is me!”

Here is the colorful story:

I was painting trashcans at a local community center all by myself. I hurriedly slung green paint on these rusted cans as the sun raced for the horizon. My hands were green and sticky from the oil-based paint, and my back ached. (I won’t even discuss the smell coming from the trashcans.) I knew I wasn’t going to finish before the sun went down...which meant a return trip on another day...which meant another day away from my family.

After a few curse words and head shakes, I asked myself with torment and angst: “Why the hell am I doing this?”

No answer.

After a little more green paint, and a couple passers-by inquiring if I was almost done, I asked myself the question again. This time there was a little less distress (and no foul language): “Why am I doing this?”

Then it happened: Darkness set in, my green paint looked black and I realized that I was used to the stale odor wafting from the cans. But more importantly, clarity slapped me across the face.

I stopped cold. Black...er....green paint dripped from my brush and on to my shoe.

In a very level-headed and intrigued manner, I asked myself the same question again – this time in a confident whisper: “Why am I doing this?”

When there was pain and agony behind the question – it was nothing more than rhetorical. The emotion overshadowed the question. But as the anguish subsided, the question became clear. More importantly, it sparked poignant follow-up questions:

“Do I want praise and recognition for painting these trash cans?”

“Am I trying to prove something to someone?”

“What am I getting out of this?”

I can’t say that I had any answers, but simply asking the questions without despair was refreshing. I started to see things more clearly, which started a domino-effect of questions that all centered around “why.”

Again, there was no grief or misery – I was calm, cool and cross-hair focused. If nothing more, I had sparked my internal curiosity.

“Why do I give back?”

“Why does it seem like I care more than other people?’

“Why do I think painting trash cans is impactful?”

No answers – just questions.

I said a short prayer as I packed up my supplies to head home: “God, I’m not 100 percent sure why I was out here painting these trash cans – but it must have been for a reason. I think I’m starting to see why. Thank you for this opportunity.”

I wish I could explain the clarity I’ve had since that moment.

Now, these questions of self-analysis come faster. They’re more poignant. And they are pointed directly at every facet of my life.

I feel rejuvenated and alive.

I wish I could put a pretty little bow on this blog post and write a poetic conclusion, but I can’t. This is almost like a mid-term status report.

What I DO know:

• This mentality helped me walk away from two bad professional situations – “Why am I putting myself through this every day?”

AND

• Asking the right questions has inspired me to utilize the gifts God has given me – “Why am I not writing on a regular basis?”

I’ve never felt this empowered, focused and driven.

Asking myself these difficult questions gives me direction.

So, I’ve decided to take this quest for answers and apply it to this blog (if I use God’s gift and no one is paying attention – what’s the point?). Questions I've asked myself:

“Why should people care about what I’m writing?”

“Why should people read my blog?”

The wonderfully great part, I’m starting to wrap my mind around the “whys” and coming up with strategic answers.

I’m so excited about what’s next.

The countdown is on...I’m about to start Defining Audacity.

There is Tremendous Perspective From the Top of a 40-foot Climbing Wall

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is Part II of a three-part series about me walking into the “wilderness” with my 7-year-old niece and walking out with a completely different perspective on being a father. (Read intro post here)

– – –

Saturday morning was the “official” start of my niece’s father-daughter campout, which was a little confusing to me. After being there 12 hours and experiencing a miserable night of sleep, I was baffled by the term “official” on our itinerary. (Trying to sleep in the before-mentioned prison beds made things pretty “official” in my book.)

I guess Friday night wasn’t “official,” because we ate dinner at a local restaurant – complete with prime rib and an adult beverage.
I can understand that.

But I would have thought smores by the campfire and letting the kids run around like someone accidently left their cages open would definitely constitute “official.” I was wrong.

It didn’t matter...I was ready to “officially” get things started and tackle any adventure that came our way.

But before we jump into canoeing and candle making, my “wake-up call” on Saturday morning is worth mentioning. It definitely helped lay the foundation for the day ahead. (Reminder: Herding cats.)

The eight girls in our cabin were specifically instructed to stay asleep – or at least confined to their bunks – until 7 o’clock on Saturday morning. I guess that’s like telling a kid to NOT push that big red button, because the whispers and giggles started at 6:15. (They just couldn’t hold out for 45 more minutes.)

“Is anyone awake?” one of my 7-year-old roommates whispered
into the darkness.

“I am,” came a tiny voice from across the room.

Then there was the not-so-quite: “I’m still trying to sleep!”

I think a couple of the dads wanted to scream: “Me too!”

After a couple more back-and-forth whispers, little footsteps were added to the morning mix of noises – some were headed to the bathroom, while others were off to another bunk.

At 6:45 the “Glow Stick Incident” occurred, and there was NO WAY we were going to make it our 7 a.m. goal.

One of my 7-year-old roommates accidently busted open the glow stick that she received the night before. (Rumor has it that she chewed off the end of the glow stick, but I cannot confirm and/or deny that.) Regardless of how the plastic rod was penetrated, she felt inclined to draw on the cabin floor with the illuminated liquid.

It was a glowing mess – one that quickly became a hot topic of conversation in the cabin.

I was still lying in my bunk, aware of the glowing art project, but not that concerned. My niece was still in her bunk – being the model Wildflower – so I didn’t feel inclined to get involved.

Then I got my “wake-up call.”

With a hint of pride in her voice, my niece exclaimed: “My glow stick busted, too.” Then her pride was quickly replaced with confused concern: “Oh, no....it’s on my sleeping bag....AND my arm.”

“GIVE ME THE GLOW STICK,” I firmly said from the bunk below. (No one was asleep after my dad/coach voice rattled the walls.) Her little hand reached over the edge of the bunk bed and handed me the plastic stick.

As I demanded that she get down and wash off “the glow,” possible headlines filled my head: “Camper poisoned by toxic glow stick” and “DFW 7-year-old stained for life with glow stick goop.”

Everyone laughed at the glowing slime on her arm, hands, and PJs as she climbed down the ladder. She wore it like a badge of honor.

They begged her not to wash it off, and she probably wouldn’t have without another firm directive from me.

The cats were officially on the loose and the herding had begun.

– – –

When we finally got dressed and attacked the brisk morning, we didn’t stop until we laid back down on our prison beds that night.

• We played miniature golf

• We paddled a canoe

• We went on a treasure hunt

• We shot BB guns

• We went to the archery range

• We made candles

• We memorized scripture

• We participated in relay races.

Just trying to recall all the activities for this blog post made me tired – imagine actually doing this over the course of one day. WOW!

The really tiring part was all the walking between activities. (My niece asked how far I thought we walked on Saturday. I guessed 6 miles.) Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep a “tribe” of 7-year-olds focused on a specific destination and moving in the same direction? Trying doing it for 6 miles.

Walking...walking...walking....“Squirrel!” (And now we’re running in a totally different direction.)

And then there was the barrage of rhetorical questions throughout the day:

“Are we almost there?” – I thought this phrase was only applicable in the car on long road trips. I was wrong.

“Can we go?” – If they were giving out a badge for patience this weekend, our girls would have missed out.

“Can I have another glow stick?” – No response, just tired glares.

– – –

My niece’s favorite part of the day was climbing the 40-foot rock wall. I was convinced that she would give a valiant effort, but I was skeptical that she’d make it to the top. I guess you could say that I had guarded realism.

She surprised the heck out of me AND provided me a welcomed slap across the face.

It was at the base of that rock wall – watching all the kids try to conquer the 40-foot climb – when my life started flashing before my eyes. (Specifically my life as a father.) While I started making excuses for Mary Grace before she even put on the harness, other parents refused to let their child quit before they reached the top.

"DO. NOT. STOP!"

“Settle down, Dad – it’s just a rock wall,” I thought to myself with a judgmental smirk. I made a silent promise to myself that I would never be that guy.

But when Mary Grace started to throw in the towel – about 25 feet up the wall – success was the only option. It’s like I knew there was a boost of confidence that waited for her at the top.

I didn’t scream: “Keep going!” or “You will NOT quit!”

I just encouraged. (Thanks to the before-mentioned dad.)

As she got closer to the top, I started to feel guilty for not giving her a chance out of the gate. She was going to make it and I was going to have roasted crow with a side of eggs for my afternoon snack.

“Almost there...a little more...YEAH, MARY GRACE!”

After she rappelled down the wall – and her feet were safely on the ground – I hugged her neck and told her how proud I was of her. But I was also subconsciously making a promise to my son.

“I will always encourage him to go a little farther,” I thought. “I will never protect him with excuses – especially before he even tries.”

Probably the two biggest parenting lessons I learned from my 7-year-old niece that day:

• If you want something bad enough – you WILL succeed

• A little bit of confidence can go a long way

That’s what I loved most about Mary Grace’s accomplishment –the intense shot of confidence it provided. I’m convinced that climbing that wall was her favorite part of the weekend because she tasted success.

It was my favorite part of the weekend because it started to open my eyes.

Words Come Back to Haunt & Inspire Me to Take a Radical Leap of Faith

Statistics show that the average person can expect to change jobs five to seven times in his or her lifetime.

I am humbled to say that I’ve already CRUSHED “average” and I’m quickly approaching legendary status. (Actually, the adjectives “preposterous” and “ridiculous” might be a better description for my resume.)

Since graduating from college in 1997, I have:

– Been a newspaper designer at two different newspapers
– Served as a college admissions counselor
– Coached football
– Been a football recruiting coordinator
– Worked in athletic administration at a major university
– Started my own business
– Helped a non-profit tell its story through marketing
– Been a consultant
– Worked at an advertising agency
– Peeked into the world of Oil and Gas.

That’s 11 jobs in 11 years. (Needless to say, I have an impressive stack of business cards with my name on them.)

Do I win something?

What about a lobotomy and/or a day pass at the closest mental institution?

My most recent career change is the reason for this blog post. Two days ago, I walked away from a company that I whole-heartedly believed in – making more money than I’d ever made before – because I was not appreciated and/or valued.

I quit without another job lined up, because I wasn’t being true to myself – going to work every day under a cloud of uncertainty and distrust.

Please know, when I say “quit” ... I approached the owners and said: “This will be my last day to work here. Thank you for the opportunity. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

I grabbed my computer bag and left.

It has always been important to me to leave a job on good terms, and to make sure that I left things in better shape than when I arrived.

That was not exactly the case this time, especially in regards to leaving on the best of terms. There was no two-weeks notice and/or mutually-beneficial exit strategy. (Obviously, there was not going away party.)

I can honestly say it was one of the least proudest moments of my life AND the proudest thing that I’ve ever done.

I had to walk away, and I had to do it right then.

A friend of mine put it best: “They didn’t deserve you.” And even though she made it sound like I was breaking up with a controlling, self-righteous, witch of a girlfriend, she was right.

If I had gone to work one more day, I would have been a hypocritical glutton for punishment. (More poetically referred to as a wuss.)

Was it easy to walk away? Hell, no!

Before my departure, my heart was beating out of my chest as I stared at a picture of my wife and son. My emotions ranged from sadness and anxiety to utter terror as I continuously asked myself: “What the hell am I about to do?”

Then it happened – a whisper from God. I received an e-mail from a friend that simply said:

Here's a reminder in case you need one:

“As our pastor closed us in prayer, I told God that I feel like I AM living ‘full throttle’ and I expressed my gratitude. Thanks to my faith in Him – I'm able to live boldly without any fear. (Not reckless...just boldly.) I'm able to take risks. I'm able to chase my dreams. I'm able to love with all my heart. I'm able to be the best husband, brother, son, and boss that I can be.”

My earnest response: “Wow! Who wrote that?”

Friend: “You did, nerd! In a blog post in 2009.”

The message spoke directly to my racing heart, but being re-introduced to my own thoughts and words was even more profound. My fear and apprehension was quickly replaced with confidence.

Before I received that e-mail, I was taking a leap of faith – clueless about what I was going to do next, But three VERY simple words gave me the courage to embrace my future:

“You”... “Did”...“Nerd”

It was a welcomed slap across the face – I FINALLY recognized that I need to leverage the gifts that God has blessed me with and inspire others through my writing.

So what does that exactly mean?

It’s time to write and write some more. It’s time to be true to myself and help other people do wonderfully great things.

Maybe this leap of faith will actually inspire someone to punch their fear in the face and make a radical change of their own.

I’ll close with this incredible reminder from Max Lucado’s
book, Fearless:

Fear never wrote a symphony or poem, negotiated a peace treaty or cured a disease. Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry. Fear never saved a marriage or a business. Courage did that. Faith did that. People who refused to consult or cower to their timidities did that. But fear itself? Fear herds us into a prison and slams the doors.

Lucado then asks: “Wouldn’t it be great to walk out?”

Yeah, it would....so I did.