Appreciating Paradise

We live at the beach, but neither of my kids really like going to the beach. I am often disappointed in their lack of interest in spending time in the sand. I wonder if this is how God feels when He gives us an awesome job, the perfect mate, a nice house, or other amazing gifts, but we don't fully enjoy or appreciate them.

I have told my kids for years that most kids would be jealous of them for living in such an awesome place. We live where most people come for a week or two a year to escape from the stress of their everyday lives. We are here every day. I don’t think my kids fully understood what I was trying to get across to them.

One day at local fast food restaurant a small boy proudly told my daughter that he was from Texas. He asked her where she was from. My daughter told him here. The little boy couldn’t believe it. He told her nobody was from here. She finally managed to convince him that she was in fact from here. The little boy said that it was awesome and ran off to tell his mother. I believe the incident caused my daughter to better appreciate living here for at least a day or two. I also realized the little boy could have thought she was talking about living at the fast food place not at the beach. 

She still does not like going to the beach.

Another way to appreciate something is to lose it. That's a post for another day.

Why You Should Never Eat Bacon Before a Blood Test

There are things every adult should know. Here is how I learned a lesson that I should have learned years ago.

For several days I had discomfort in my back in the area where I imagine my kidneys hang out. The discomfort turned into a dull ache. Instead of working I found myself lying in bed for a few minutes trying to get some relief. As I laid there I imagined what my life would be like as I headed down the path toward needing a kidney transplant. Crazy thoughts ran through my head such as how would I get to the dialysis center and would anyone in my family be willing to give up a kidney for me? Maybe I should just skip treatment and go on to my heavenly reward. I have insurance. My family would be fine.

The path to death's door started with an abnormal number showing up on my blood test results from my yearly physical. The nurse from the doctor's office told me over the phone that I needed to repeat the test to make sure it was a fluke. And, if I received the same results on the second test, the doctor would refer me to a specialist.

As I waited for the results from the second test, the discomfort and pain started. I did not tell my family. I decided I would handle this one like a man, a rarity for me.

After a couple of weeks I received another call from the doctor's office. The second test came back normal. Ironically my kidney pain disappeared soon after. I realized that my symptoms were psychosomatic and, maybe, gas pains.

When I called to schedule the first blood test I misunderstood the instructions. I swore the nurse said I could eat something for breakfast since they weren't testing me for glucose level issues. I translated her instructions to mean it was okay to eat bacon. Apparently it wasn't.

That's why you should never eat bacon before a blood test.

Storms of Life

When I told people we were moving to Florida, I often received two questions – what are you going to do about your job? And what about hurricanes? I had my job situation under control, but storms were a different issue. I would usually give some lame answer about how we would just leave the coast if, and I would stress if, we ever got hit by one. Honestly, I never gave hurricanes much thought.

And of course a hurricane formed and was projected to hit us within a couple of weeks of us settling into our rental unit. I had never spent any time researching hurricanes, but I quickly got up to speed enough to know to be scared. I spent time I should have been working refreshing web pages showing the latest projected tracts over and over and over. I also wondered what I had gotten my family in to.

In the middle of the hurricane stress my wife’s grandmother became seriously ill. While my wife and my daughter drove back home to spend time with her, I spent the weekend trying my best to protect the boxes stored in the garage of the rental unit and making attempts at trying to protect electronics and valuables inside our home. 

And I prayed. I prayed often; not quite unceasing, but I prayed a lot. I prayed for the Lord to send the storm elsewhere. I was certain other people really needed the rain.

My wife came home with a heavy heart due to her grandmother's prognosis. The storm didn't care. It continued to take a path toward us. We made plans to leave. Trying to anticipate various scenarios we made multiple hotel reservations, each further away from the previous. And we packed up.

And then my prayers were answered and the hurricane's path shifted away from us. 

I really did not want to take any chances having two small children so we spent two nights in a hotel off the beach. While the kids drove the wife crazy in the room I worked in at the hotel bar each day. I never received any tips.

While at the hotel we did receive news that we were going to receive an offer on our home. We did not want to get our hopes up due to a soft real estate market and having gotten our hopes up in the past.  And, really, of all the times I expected to get an offer, I never expected to get one while riding out a hurricane. The timing was surprising.

On the morning of the third day we went back to our beach home. After unloading the car I walked over to check out the ocean. Huge waves were crashing near the top of the dunes. I told my wife that if someone ordered me at gunpoint to walk into the water, I would take my chances with the bullet. The power of the waves was indescribable. Just three days before the water smooth and blue. Now the ocean was angry. Seeing the raw power of just the very edge of a category one hurricane reinforced the power of nature. I felt small and powerless. 

I do not know why we got threatened by a storm so soon after moving. Maybe God was trying to humble me or prepare me for future events. I do not know why the storm went elsewhere. I doubt it had much to do with my prayers. I am sure people in other places were praying just a fervently. 

The one constant during that entire time was a feeling deep down that everything was going to be okay. I had moments of doubt and fear, moments of sadness, and moments of joy. In the end all of it was out of my control except for deciding how I was going to deal with it. Maybe we get storms as reminders of these things. Maybe storms just happen for no reason.

Regardless, we had survived our first hurricane. Hopefully, it would be the last one.

Drowning Pool

After two days on the road and hours spent unloading, I decided to take the kids to the pool. We had barely gotten wet when I realized I had forgotten my son’s floatation device. I told the kids to stay on the steps as I got out of the pool to text my wife to bring it.

I had not finished composing the text message when I heard my daughter scream. I turned back and saw her trying to keep my son from floating into the deeper area of the pool. The two of them were barely managing to keep his face out of the water. I dropped my phone and I did my best BayWatch moves. I managed to my son to the steps. He was fine. He wasn’t even upset.

“Don’t tell mom,” I pleaded. And, of course, that was the first thing my daughter did when my wife finally made it to the pool. To this day my daughter talks about how she saved his life. Maybe she did.

This was not my son’s first brush with drowning under my watch. There was an incident a few years earlier with a not-so-lazy lazy river and a forgotten life vest. I was starting to notice a pattern. I made a mental note to be more alert, because, apparently, man-made bodies of water were out to get my son.

We were off to a questionable start.

The Long Road to a New Home

You haven’t lived until you have towed a rental trailer behind a small, underpowered SUV for the better part of two days. Although, having grown up in the South and having owned an actual truck at one time*, I had never towed anything. So naturally I decided towing a trailer was the best way to move my family to our new home.

Just renting the trailer was more hassle than I ever imagined. I had to go to a seedy gas station roughly 45 minutes from my house to pick up the trailer. Of course, I had reserved the trailer weeks before and had expected to be able to swing by one of their two large stores on my way home from work that day, but that rental company had other ideas. They also refused to allow me to pull it with my mid-sized SUV due to some class action lawsuit. Thus, I was forced to use our other, less powerful SUV.

Behind schedule and unable to back up the trailer, an issue I discovered after a frustrating practice session in an empty parking lot, I made it home and we loaded the trailer. Since we were renting a furnished townhouse, we were only bringing the necessities such as electronics, clothes, toys, and bikes. It wasn’t long before that trailer was packed full with just the necessities.

The drive was a stressful one. My lack of experience towing had me on high alert. The poor, little SUV struggled with the load. Every time we somehow managed to reach blazing speeds of 55 or 60 mph, the trailer would start swaying scaring both my daughter, who had the misfortune of riding with me instead of her mother, and me. 

We made it to the beach town without incident. I am sure I must have felt the same combination of pride, satisfaction, and relief as the pioneer dads who had spent months battling weather, cholera, swollen rivers, and other hardships to take their families to Oregon or California.

I thanked God as we pulled into a gas station to top off our tanks. The SUV jerked like the entire rear end had been pulled out like a scene from The Dukes of Hazzard. I thought SUV given up and finally died or that I had hit a gas pump. I expected to see people running away right before we all died in a huge fireball.

Nothing. Nobody seemed to have noticed that I had caught the fender of the trailer on one of those metal pilings that protect the pumps from idiots pulling trailers. As a person who never takes out optional insurance on anything I was thankful that I had had the divine inspiration to have done so this time. When we returned the trailer the next day I noticed almost every trailer in the lot had at least one dented fender. It made me feel better about myself.

I think both the SUV and I sacrificed some of our lifespan on that trip.

So, we had managed to have had arrived in one piece at our new home. We were ready to start our new lives.

* That truck I bragged about earlier? Well, my wife owned it when we got married. I owned a sports car. Never tell your new wife that you only married her for her truck. I cannot stress this enough.

The Decision

The decision to move was not an easy one. We moved for the same reason most people do it -- for a job.

My wife wanted a new job. Her current job was good but not great. She was not using all of her God-given talents. The problem was there were no other opportunities for her near where we lived. We would have to move. The only question was how far. 

We decided to see if God wanted her to take another job. If she did not receive any offers, then we knew we were where God wanted us to be. 

My wife started a job search. She interviewed at two places. Of course, she was offered the job that was the farthest away from our current home. We had to make a decision.

To complicate matter was we would be moving away from our families. I had moved to another state after college for a job. My wife joined me when we got married. After 5 years, we came back to our home state. We settled into a town about forty-five minutes from both our families. We had a good life. We had good jobs. We had a great house. Our church was an amazing. The schools were good. Did we really want to take our two small children away from their extended family? 

So we prayed. My go to prayer for making big decisions goes something like this:

“God, open the door or close door, but please don’t leave it partially open. You know I’m not that smart. Please make it obvious.”

After many discussions, prayers, and some tears we decided that God wanted us in the new place. It was not an easy decision. We were about to go on an adventure. But before we did, I had to deal with my job. Would it be possible for me to work remotely or would I be looking for another job once we moved?

We were about to find out. 

In the Beginning

Do you ever of dream of selling everything and moving to the beach? Do you love the idea of not having to drag your tired rear to an office building day after day? Do you imagine what it would be like to live on an island with miles of beautiful beaches? Do you fantasize about never having to wear pants again? Do wish you could do all of these things before you were too old to enjoy them?

Well, I did all those things when I turned 40 -- I moved to an island with beautiful beaches, I stopped having to go to an office building everyday, and I wore shorts year round.

I also had a wife, two semi-small children, and a job. 

Did I mention I had the beach?

This is my story.