Getting older and Parenting

Last week was a difficult week. I came home from a ski trip realizing that I was skiing with guys ten to twenty years younger (never a good idea, unless you are only twenty). Undeniable and harsh realizations of my own mortality were upon me. Now just so you know ... the mountains around Pagosa were fantastic. The drive and the fellowship while at the lodge were second to none. The snow at Wolf Creek was like I had never seen, twelve inches of powder the day we arrived. My 10 year old F-250 ran like a top and exceeded my expectations on fuel economy. We stayed in a condo arranged my Eric Babb at no cost to us. I had a queen sized bed all to my self. The view out the window was a Colorado postcard. It was the least expensive ski trip I have ever taken.

But then I tried to ski ... I didn't fall much ... I didn't miss the lift ... I was plenty warm, but just going downhill was painful. My geriatric knees and under exercised thighs seemed to make enough noise I was surprised ski-patrol didn't respond. At times I wished they had. Powder alone was bearable, but as the morning progressed the ruts and bumps brought new challenges. Every dip and hump brought unsolicited audible responses to my lips. I tried to keep up, but to no avail. By the time lunch rolled around, another wave of the white powder recovered the mountain in a fresh layer. I returned to the top of the mountain and headed to the bottom again. By the time we had made it half way down, I was toast. I went to the lodge to wait for the super-humans with my tail between my legs. At the end of the day I was spent for the weekend. I only skied one of the two planed days. The worst part was realizing I was in the worst condition of my life.

Part two
Raising children. I could have ended that sentence in any number of ways. Question mark ... Exclamation point ... or a string of nondescript markings denoting words I can not utter (or type). I hate to admit it. But it has been true for a while. I hear other parents alluding to the same feelings. I am tired of raising my children. There, I said it. I don't feel (very) guilty about it, either. terry and I have busted our butts and shortened our lives in the endeavor of training up our children in the way they should go (according to the way we have interpreted scripture). We know we aren't perfect, but we feel we have done a good job at being faithful to this quest.

I remember the day my dad said the fateful words to me. "Son. I've spent the last 18 years of my life telling you everything I knew about what was right, and good, and Godly. Telling you again at this point would be a waste of my time and of yours. He implied that I was always welcome to come to him with questions or for a request for a refresher. He was merely saying repetition at this point in my life was pointless. He was done.

It was a turning pint in my life. Somehow (in some twisted satanic adolescent terms) I had allowed my father's inputs to me about how I should live had clouded my ability to do or to think about what I should be deciding about my own life and choices. I still remember "grounding" myself whereby I "made myself" walk to work for a few days. Never told my friends about that. They just thought it was another installment from my dad.

After a few days of my self imposed punishment I began to realize I had a life to live and to give an answer for. It was the start of good things. Not immediately, but gradually I would consider one habit/indulgence/social interaction at a time and began to structure my life for myself. Notice I did not say "re"-structure. The only structure I had previously erected was my propensity to argue against my parents when I disagreed. I now was coming to the knowledge that my parents were just a small part of all the world was ask me to make a decision about.

I hope my kids understand that.

Its not that I am done being a dad, a father, a provider in times of need, a shoulder for consolation, or even a forgiver when the time arises. Its just that I've said everything I know to say multiple (or "thousands", according to my kids) times and don't want to waste their time, nor my efforts, anymore.

Ben, ... You still have a few things to hear.

Dad

PS I am still available upon request for continuing education.