What: Metro Jackson Samson Society Dinner
When: Friday, August 2nd, 2019 at 6:30 PM
Where: Grace Crossing Baptist Church - Gluckstadt, MS
Who's catering?: Primos restaurant
Who's invited?: Every Samson man and his spouse / significant other
Why participate?: This is the 3rd such event we've organized. The two dinners we had in 2018 were well attended and fun. The food and fellowship further solidified friendships and promoted new. This dinner is especially significant due to the fact that it's being hosted by Grace Crossing Baptist Church in Gluckstadt.
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Tickets are are $20 per adult and can be purchased from any Samson Society meeting facilitator by Saturday, July 27th, 2019.
Friday, July 5, 2019
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Interdependence Day
I feel as if holidays are for children, and since I'm no longer a child...
But, I have a wife and three daughters, all of which are still children, therefore we celebrate holidays within the same boring vein as most middle to upper class white southerners.
Today, unlike any other holiday in the past, I felt as if I belonged whilst celebrating Independence Day with my family at my 'rents' home. In the past, time with them at their abode has always instilled in me a sense of being out of place as their only son. Now, keep in mind that I'm an architect, therefore I'm more attuned to buildings / design than most, therefore I realize that has something to do with it.
Know too that my 'rents behave with superb hospitality. Holidays with them are always festive and beautifully rendered with all the traditional trimmings.
Growing up with Bob and Darlene, I soon began to feel out of place whilst in my late teens. I can remember coming home from college during the summer months and being keenly aware of it. Because they built their dream home during this period of my life (which they still reside in), that had to have enhanced these feelings of being an outsider.
Soon after I acquired my first job as an architect intern, I moved out into my own apartment. My mother in particular didn't agree with this move, but oh, how I loved my new digs due to the fact that I no longer felt alone within the family home.
So, what's changed?
All I can come up with is the interview I gave last weekend at FBC Petal. Perhaps somehow that experience dislodged / clean sweeped away any remaining shame that remained relative to my own story as it relates to being the son that I am of my parents.
I feel damn near empowered. What an awesome holiday this has been!
But, I have a wife and three daughters, all of which are still children, therefore we celebrate holidays within the same boring vein as most middle to upper class white southerners.
Today, unlike any other holiday in the past, I felt as if I belonged whilst celebrating Independence Day with my family at my 'rents' home. In the past, time with them at their abode has always instilled in me a sense of being out of place as their only son. Now, keep in mind that I'm an architect, therefore I'm more attuned to buildings / design than most, therefore I realize that has something to do with it.
Know too that my 'rents behave with superb hospitality. Holidays with them are always festive and beautifully rendered with all the traditional trimmings.
Growing up with Bob and Darlene, I soon began to feel out of place whilst in my late teens. I can remember coming home from college during the summer months and being keenly aware of it. Because they built their dream home during this period of my life (which they still reside in), that had to have enhanced these feelings of being an outsider.
Soon after I acquired my first job as an architect intern, I moved out into my own apartment. My mother in particular didn't agree with this move, but oh, how I loved my new digs due to the fact that I no longer felt alone within the family home.
So, what's changed?
All I can come up with is the interview I gave last weekend at FBC Petal. Perhaps somehow that experience dislodged / clean sweeped away any remaining shame that remained relative to my own story as it relates to being the son that I am of my parents.
I feel damn near empowered. What an awesome holiday this has been!
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
Monday, July 1, 2019
Vicariously peering through Bill's rearview mirror
My now old friend Bill was too scary for Rob during my freshman, sophomore, and most of my junior year in college, therefore I considered him only as an acquaintance, never once imagining him as a candidate for friendship. And considering that, had he not been an architecture school classmate, I would have left him in the dust. He was just way too inside himself, angry, and negative relative to the vibes he off gassed.
In high school, I'd attempted to be intentional about reaching out to classmates who were obviously in need of a friend, and more often than not, I found that other than being a temporary ally, I could do no more. I have to admit that as a believer, it was frustrating because I expected God to intervene on my timetable. In other words, I wanted to be privy to their situation improving, but more often than not, I was the one left in the dust, only to be frustrated and feeling slightly used.
I haven't had the privilege of running across too many "Bills" since my college days, but my experience between '90 and '95 with my (now) old friend gives me credence to not only look back in remembrance but to also contrast today's friendship (we have lunch regularly) with yesterday's long ago fear. Fear that I'll hopefully never forget, and for good reason.
Allow me to be more specific...
-------------------------
Back in 1990, Bill and I were freshmen at Mississippi State and, upon me first seeing him, it was obvious that he was unusually insecure, especially considering our shared, very demanding major. Eventually, I also came to know of his obsession. That being affirmation from females. There was nothing he desired more than to be affirmed by women he was attracted to, therefore he considered friendship with other guys to be of little value. Therefore he was by choice, a loner who was continually angry (primarily at himself but also his view of the world around him).
His personality was as follows. He didn't have too much to say, and was an obvious introvert (long before I knew what that word meant). And he was ashamed of his body. In particular, the fact that he was lanky, lean - certainly not athletically built. We'll just say awkwardly proportioned.
Eventually, I also unearthed the fact that he'd come from a rough public high school experience where he'd been the target of much ridicule over the previous years, growing up in small town south Mississippi.
And finally, he drove this piece of shit Izuzu pickup. Manual transmission. Glass packs. Hideous custom paint job (with chrome decals). What was he negatively thinking, (this question ran through my mind regularly) and how does anyone spend that amount of time doing just that?
After actually befriending Bill (during the second half of our college career), we took this piece of shit all over Starkville in search of cheap food (Bill loves pizza). Keep in mind that at that point, he was a very differently tempered young man altogether than what I've described here despite the fact that he did not lose any of his core quirkiness, much of which had been covered over before.
-------------------------
Fast forward to today.
Bill is now 46 (as am I), and he's seen a handful of psychiatrists / therapists through the years, taken some anti-depressants and anxiety meds and he's not at all ashamed of this. He (like myself) is married with children, works full-time and is a deacon at a local Baptist church. And keep in mind that I've also seen a handful of therapists myself! (Water seeks its own level.) I love this man like a brother.
This is what he shared with me at lunch last week regarding his former acquaintance (to Rob and most everyone else) self:
"I had to reach a point where I was fed up with feeling that way about myself and about my life, and I did this when I hit rock bottom. Therefore once that occurred, I changed everything I could in order to improve my negative thinking about myself, my situation, and all the bad circumstances from my past."
-------------------------
Why is this important?
Because it gives me access to a turning point in someone's history whom I know and love today but didn't even attempt to know back then, and this gives me hope and understanding for other men whom I know and love today who are still on the far / other side of that line.
Despite the fact that I'm no longer scared to relate (as best I can) to present day men who are seemingly as insecure as Bill once was, I need as much hope and understanding as I can attain, taken from Bill's story or otherwise. Again, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Bill was troubled by his situation, overall insecure in his manhood and in bondage to all types* of female affirmation. All of this I could not relate to on any level which only added to my fear and (presently - considering more recent friendships) worry, worry, worry.
*including pornography
I am indebted to my old friend Bill for showing me where I likely need to reside emotionally (relative to one particular present day friendship) through this portion of your pre-Rob story. What a gift.
God is faithful in using all kinds of unlikely means to enlighten us within the present relative to those he's placed within our circle of influence. Thanks be to God!
In high school, I'd attempted to be intentional about reaching out to classmates who were obviously in need of a friend, and more often than not, I found that other than being a temporary ally, I could do no more. I have to admit that as a believer, it was frustrating because I expected God to intervene on my timetable. In other words, I wanted to be privy to their situation improving, but more often than not, I was the one left in the dust, only to be frustrated and feeling slightly used.
I haven't had the privilege of running across too many "Bills" since my college days, but my experience between '90 and '95 with my (now) old friend gives me credence to not only look back in remembrance but to also contrast today's friendship (we have lunch regularly) with yesterday's long ago fear. Fear that I'll hopefully never forget, and for good reason.
Allow me to be more specific...
-------------------------
Back in 1990, Bill and I were freshmen at Mississippi State and, upon me first seeing him, it was obvious that he was unusually insecure, especially considering our shared, very demanding major. Eventually, I also came to know of his obsession. That being affirmation from females. There was nothing he desired more than to be affirmed by women he was attracted to, therefore he considered friendship with other guys to be of little value. Therefore he was by choice, a loner who was continually angry (primarily at himself but also his view of the world around him).
His personality was as follows. He didn't have too much to say, and was an obvious introvert (long before I knew what that word meant). And he was ashamed of his body. In particular, the fact that he was lanky, lean - certainly not athletically built. We'll just say awkwardly proportioned.
Eventually, I also unearthed the fact that he'd come from a rough public high school experience where he'd been the target of much ridicule over the previous years, growing up in small town south Mississippi.
And finally, he drove this piece of shit Izuzu pickup. Manual transmission. Glass packs. Hideous custom paint job (with chrome decals). What was he negatively thinking, (this question ran through my mind regularly) and how does anyone spend that amount of time doing just that?
After actually befriending Bill (during the second half of our college career), we took this piece of shit all over Starkville in search of cheap food (Bill loves pizza). Keep in mind that at that point, he was a very differently tempered young man altogether than what I've described here despite the fact that he did not lose any of his core quirkiness, much of which had been covered over before.
-------------------------
Fast forward to today.
Bill is now 46 (as am I), and he's seen a handful of psychiatrists / therapists through the years, taken some anti-depressants and anxiety meds and he's not at all ashamed of this. He (like myself) is married with children, works full-time and is a deacon at a local Baptist church. And keep in mind that I've also seen a handful of therapists myself! (Water seeks its own level.) I love this man like a brother.
This is what he shared with me at lunch last week regarding his former acquaintance (to Rob and most everyone else) self:
"I had to reach a point where I was fed up with feeling that way about myself and about my life, and I did this when I hit rock bottom. Therefore once that occurred, I changed everything I could in order to improve my negative thinking about myself, my situation, and all the bad circumstances from my past."
-------------------------
Why is this important?
Because it gives me access to a turning point in someone's history whom I know and love today but didn't even attempt to know back then, and this gives me hope and understanding for other men whom I know and love today who are still on the far / other side of that line.
Despite the fact that I'm no longer scared to relate (as best I can) to present day men who are seemingly as insecure as Bill once was, I need as much hope and understanding as I can attain, taken from Bill's story or otherwise. Again, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Bill was troubled by his situation, overall insecure in his manhood and in bondage to all types* of female affirmation. All of this I could not relate to on any level which only added to my fear and (presently - considering more recent friendships) worry, worry, worry.
*including pornography
I am indebted to my old friend Bill for showing me where I likely need to reside emotionally (relative to one particular present day friendship) through this portion of your pre-Rob story. What a gift.
God is faithful in using all kinds of unlikely means to enlighten us within the present relative to those he's placed within our circle of influence. Thanks be to God!
Saturday, June 29, 2019
The Christian's Honorary Doctorate / Transformed (Rebuilt) For Rejection
When I was around 4 years old, my parents and I lived in an apartment complex in Jackson. In the center of the complex was a swingset, slide, etc. for the children. One day, I found myself playing with two girls who were about my age. I believe they were sisters, and despite the fact that they'd arrived at the playground after I had, they weren't deterred from eventually pushing me off the swings in order to make room for themselves. To me it said, you're of no value, therefore we're removing you from your allotted position despite the fact that we had initially chosen to accept you.
As a result, my then 22-year old mother vindicated me by chewing the ass of their mother and father at their own apartment door. I remember my father standing in the background and me grinning victoriously as they experienced the wrath of Darlene.
This picture of vengeance is in alignment with Biblical truth, but in terms of day to day life, it's not nearly as clear cut / immediate.
Everyone wants justice. We long for it. What we don't want is owning the portion of our identity as Christians that pains us. That being the propensity for consistent rejection.
Rejection is one of the easiest and most sinfully gratifying choices we take part in. It's a power move ultimately, and that's where the gratification part comes in. It says "FUCK YOU!" or "GO TO HELL!"
What's difficult if not impossible for us as western Christians to comprehend though is how expectant we should be to experience it due to the fact that our beliefs truly are offensive to a pagan world.
I would argue that we're likely not truly living out our faith - to the nth degree - in and throughout our lives unless we're finding ourselves regularly being pushed off the swings.
May God increase our faith and comfort us relative to the world's rejection, and may we choose to not behave similarly, no matter how tempted we may be to make such an immature move.
As a result, my then 22-year old mother vindicated me by chewing the ass of their mother and father at their own apartment door. I remember my father standing in the background and me grinning victoriously as they experienced the wrath of Darlene.
This picture of vengeance is in alignment with Biblical truth, but in terms of day to day life, it's not nearly as clear cut / immediate.
Everyone wants justice. We long for it. What we don't want is owning the portion of our identity as Christians that pains us. That being the propensity for consistent rejection.
Rejection is one of the easiest and most sinfully gratifying choices we take part in. It's a power move ultimately, and that's where the gratification part comes in. It says "FUCK YOU!" or "GO TO HELL!"
What's difficult if not impossible for us as western Christians to comprehend though is how expectant we should be to experience it due to the fact that our beliefs truly are offensive to a pagan world.
I would argue that we're likely not truly living out our faith - to the nth degree - in and throughout our lives unless we're finding ourselves regularly being pushed off the swings.
May God increase our faith and comfort us relative to the world's rejection, and may we choose to not behave similarly, no matter how tempted we may be to make such an immature move.
Thursday, June 20, 2019
Overcoming The Fear of Experiencing Heartache From Unexpected Loss
I've seen numerous relationships either end abruptly or slowly die, and these, of course, fall into the friendship category. That's life. Rarely, if ever, do friendships last very long. Especially if there's no reoccurring theme that they're built around (Bible study, support group like Samson, etc.).
I remember vividly experiencing my first friendship dissolution in the 5th grade. It was so unexpected and hard (seemingly much moreso to me). My friend (who was like a brother) had been close to me since 3rd grade, even to the point of walking to school with me each day. Then he moved away. I worked through a number of other friends after that, but none panned out quite like the first.
You'll recall here where I recounted some of my experiences with mentoring. Of course, mentoring is a form of friendship. It all falls into the same category. These type relationships are difficult enough to kickstart, much less cultivate long-term.
The truth is, it is our lack of formal connection that protects our hearts here. We may use the term "brother" but it's an implied moniker that's based in either men's mutual faith in God or simply the sense that two men could be related genetically, therefore they draw each other in that much further with the term.
-------------------------
I have 3 daughters. Their ages are 16, 14, and 8. I remember vividly being a new father, especially from the standpoint of dealing with the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. I was working two jobs in order for my wife to stay home with our new baby, all the while medicating my loneliness (& aforementioned exhaustion) with my newfangled discovery of Internet porn. Our first child was a very difficult baby to handle. She didn't sleep through the night 'till she was close to one year old, and her cry wasn't so much an audible reminder of discomfort or need as a shriek that implied intense suffering and pain. And this came no matter her condition. For Caroline, she was either quiet or at level 10. One or the other.
Neither this firstborn nor her younger sister were ever truly allowed into Rob's heart. I was too afraid to risk the emotional aftermath of potentially losing them. In other words, I treated them - as if it was in response to - having already lost a child, though that's (thank God) never occurred.
Cowardly, I know.
Thankfully, daughter three is an altogether different story.
This child was unexpected. Great sex and a fertile wife (unbeknownst to either of us) brought about Laura, therefore in many ways, Laura is a special child, and from the beginning, I let my heart's guard down. This proves that I can do this, and yes, henceforth, I do treat daughter 3 differently.
So...what to do about daughters one and two and the emotional arms-length I've kept them at over the course of their lives?
Angie has challenged me to move in. She's challenged me to shut up and listen more. To stop solving their problems and instead, simply making myself available to listen to their problems.
This is likely the biggest challenge I've ever received within my life because I'm their dad. I'm not supposed to listen. My purpose is to solve their problems.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [That was a scream.]
Please pray for me to take the necessary risks to win my older 2 daughters' hearts. I know this is important due to the fact that they only have one dad (me).
I remember vividly experiencing my first friendship dissolution in the 5th grade. It was so unexpected and hard (seemingly much moreso to me). My friend (who was like a brother) had been close to me since 3rd grade, even to the point of walking to school with me each day. Then he moved away. I worked through a number of other friends after that, but none panned out quite like the first.
You'll recall here where I recounted some of my experiences with mentoring. Of course, mentoring is a form of friendship. It all falls into the same category. These type relationships are difficult enough to kickstart, much less cultivate long-term.
The truth is, it is our lack of formal connection that protects our hearts here. We may use the term "brother" but it's an implied moniker that's based in either men's mutual faith in God or simply the sense that two men could be related genetically, therefore they draw each other in that much further with the term.
-------------------------
I have 3 daughters. Their ages are 16, 14, and 8. I remember vividly being a new father, especially from the standpoint of dealing with the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. I was working two jobs in order for my wife to stay home with our new baby, all the while medicating my loneliness (& aforementioned exhaustion) with my newfangled discovery of Internet porn. Our first child was a very difficult baby to handle. She didn't sleep through the night 'till she was close to one year old, and her cry wasn't so much an audible reminder of discomfort or need as a shriek that implied intense suffering and pain. And this came no matter her condition. For Caroline, she was either quiet or at level 10. One or the other.
Neither this firstborn nor her younger sister were ever truly allowed into Rob's heart. I was too afraid to risk the emotional aftermath of potentially losing them. In other words, I treated them - as if it was in response to - having already lost a child, though that's (thank God) never occurred.
Cowardly, I know.
Thankfully, daughter three is an altogether different story.
This child was unexpected. Great sex and a fertile wife (unbeknownst to either of us) brought about Laura, therefore in many ways, Laura is a special child, and from the beginning, I let my heart's guard down. This proves that I can do this, and yes, henceforth, I do treat daughter 3 differently.
So...what to do about daughters one and two and the emotional arms-length I've kept them at over the course of their lives?
Angie has challenged me to move in. She's challenged me to shut up and listen more. To stop solving their problems and instead, simply making myself available to listen to their problems.
This is likely the biggest challenge I've ever received within my life because I'm their dad. I'm not supposed to listen. My purpose is to solve their problems.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [That was a scream.]
Please pray for me to take the necessary risks to win my older 2 daughters' hearts. I know this is important due to the fact that they only have one dad (me).
Monday, June 17, 2019
Dreaded Turbulence
No one buys an airline ticket hoping to experience turbulence. In fact, were there an "upgrade ticket" that was available which guaranteed zero turbulence in flight, it would likely be a 100% take.
We dread experiencing turbulence because we associate it with a doomed flight, therefore the less turbulence, the better. Thank you very much.
It's no different than considering our inevitable death. Everyone wishes to die in their sleep. No one wants to experience the fear and panic that comes with a terminal illness.
But, what our minds don't default to whilst experiencing turbulence is that most every flight experiences it and survives it just fine. In fact, airplanes are engineered to succeed despite turbulence. Plus, pilots are trained to fly within turbulence. It's not like they're inexperienced in this regard. These men and women fly a lot of miles every year. Hence, they experience a sizable amount of turbulent conditions, yet they manage to safely complete the flight path time and time again.
-------------------------
My sweet wife, Angie, attended Baylor University in Waco, Texas back in the early '90s. She tells me that she would usually fly home (to Jackson, MS) for Thanksgiving in order to take full advantage of a short holiday. One year, her entire flight was violently turbulent. So much so in fact that the pilot chose to land in Memphis, TN in lieu of Jackson. She describes the flight as somber and anxious. Few passengers spoke. Many prayed. As a college student, Angie was particularly terrified due to her youth / inexperience as a passenger.
All throughout the flight, she consistently regretted not choosing to drive home instead.
-------------------------
I was 40 when I experienced the most violent emotional / spiritual turbulence of my life. I had experienced some turbulence in the form of feelings of hopelessness / misdirection before, but never had I had people I respected / loved demonize me and my family as they were now doing. Yes, I'd experienced the ramifications of being generally disliked by those around me, and that had been tough. But it in no way compared to this.
Subsequently, I lost my bearings. I compare it to being thrown off an emotional cliff whilst asking all the while "Why is this happening to me? and What did I do to deserve this?"
Can you imagine leaving your seat during a turbulent flight, stumbling to the front of the plane and berating the pilots stupidly with these two questions?
All during the emotional fallout related to how I was treated, I prayed fervently that my daughters would never live to experience such horrific pain.
And then over time, by God's grace, I was clear of the turbulence. I certainly could remember it, but overall, I found myself intact and absolutely cognizant of what life was now like / had been like during smooth, uneventful seasons. This proved to me that God is immensely good at healing trauma / seeing Christians through turbulent times. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I've now left my seat, traipsed to the front of the plane and thanked my pilots (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) for a job well done.
I also now trust these three with my girls' individual flights, much moreso than I ever did prior.
Life is so hard. There's so much that's not in our control. Expect dreaded turbulence, but don't lose hope. That's exactly what our mutual enemy, Satan, is banking on, therefore refuse to fall for it.
Lagniappe
We dread experiencing turbulence because we associate it with a doomed flight, therefore the less turbulence, the better. Thank you very much.
It's no different than considering our inevitable death. Everyone wishes to die in their sleep. No one wants to experience the fear and panic that comes with a terminal illness.
But, what our minds don't default to whilst experiencing turbulence is that most every flight experiences it and survives it just fine. In fact, airplanes are engineered to succeed despite turbulence. Plus, pilots are trained to fly within turbulence. It's not like they're inexperienced in this regard. These men and women fly a lot of miles every year. Hence, they experience a sizable amount of turbulent conditions, yet they manage to safely complete the flight path time and time again.
-------------------------
My sweet wife, Angie, attended Baylor University in Waco, Texas back in the early '90s. She tells me that she would usually fly home (to Jackson, MS) for Thanksgiving in order to take full advantage of a short holiday. One year, her entire flight was violently turbulent. So much so in fact that the pilot chose to land in Memphis, TN in lieu of Jackson. She describes the flight as somber and anxious. Few passengers spoke. Many prayed. As a college student, Angie was particularly terrified due to her youth / inexperience as a passenger.
All throughout the flight, she consistently regretted not choosing to drive home instead.
-------------------------
I was 40 when I experienced the most violent emotional / spiritual turbulence of my life. I had experienced some turbulence in the form of feelings of hopelessness / misdirection before, but never had I had people I respected / loved demonize me and my family as they were now doing. Yes, I'd experienced the ramifications of being generally disliked by those around me, and that had been tough. But it in no way compared to this.
Subsequently, I lost my bearings. I compare it to being thrown off an emotional cliff whilst asking all the while "Why is this happening to me? and What did I do to deserve this?"
Can you imagine leaving your seat during a turbulent flight, stumbling to the front of the plane and berating the pilots stupidly with these two questions?
All during the emotional fallout related to how I was treated, I prayed fervently that my daughters would never live to experience such horrific pain.
And then over time, by God's grace, I was clear of the turbulence. I certainly could remember it, but overall, I found myself intact and absolutely cognizant of what life was now like / had been like during smooth, uneventful seasons. This proved to me that God is immensely good at healing trauma / seeing Christians through turbulent times. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I've now left my seat, traipsed to the front of the plane and thanked my pilots (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) for a job well done.
I also now trust these three with my girls' individual flights, much moreso than I ever did prior.
Life is so hard. There's so much that's not in our control. Expect dreaded turbulence, but don't lose hope. That's exactly what our mutual enemy, Satan, is banking on, therefore refuse to fall for it.
Lagniappe
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