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Murmurs Of The Heart

I laid there, on the floor. Snoring the deeply exaggerated Disney-esque snore of someone who was fake sleeping. With barely the flutter of motion, I peeked through almost closed eyes and watched as my daughter stood above me, chirping questions in that recently recovered yet long forgotten dialect of baby gibberish. Slowly she quieted, and then knelt next to me titling her head. The “Why isn’t my Daddy up chasing me anymore?” question was evident despite the language barrier.

“Baaaaaah!” I yelled, and found her stunned space-alien saucers for eyes looking back at me. Mouth agape.

I grabbed her arms and spun her high above in an elegant display of practiced father-daughter aerobatics. During this flight, I some how reached a loose index finger and wiggled it into an open armpit. Giggles and squeals erupted as if a sound effects board was queued somewhere in the house.

Still lying on my back, I brought her down on my chest, and nose to nose we laughed together. I snuck a quick kiss in before letting her go, watching as she army rolled off my body to quickly form a sprinters stance. Her eyes were beautiful as they held a “Ready, Set, Go” sparkle of anticipation.

Jumping up I then began to chase her, and she yelped again. And for the next 30 minutes we ran and we played until we both collapsed on the floor. She crawled up, rested her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel the beating of her heart as it tried to pound its way out of her body and into mine.

“The Doctor said she heard an irregularity” remembering the words that my wife had spoken earlier. “They need to do an endocardiogram to figure out what is going on.”

And so I clung to my daughter and realized that this could be the last moment we played innocently. That tomorrow morning, the Doctor could find something that would change the course of our family. I squeezed her a little tighter and inhaled her sweet baby soap aroma just a little deeper. Trying to freeze the exact moment, in my mind, forever.

That night, as I sang to her while getting ready to place her in her crib, I prayed.

God, if at all possible, let her heart be ok. Let it be the murmuring of a natural body and not the declaration of a failing one.

I laid her down, watching as her eyes fluttered in what would soon be true and deep sleep.

I then whispered. ”Just so you know, I’d go broke for you. If there is an issue, we will get it fixed. Nothing else is more important to me than you. Not our cars, our house, or our Money. Just so you know.”

And with only uncertainty to cling to, I left so that she could claim her much needed rest.

 

Where Faith And Hope Are Requirements

Ever felt like you were losing your faith and lacking in hope?

I have.

These types of thoughts usually lead right into a nice bout of depression which is always a bitter battle. A downward mathematical equation calculating the slope of a line built on despair.

But one thing that I notice is that the fight begins when I felt that I no longer have questions. When the fullness of having things proves me safe in my supposed tangible security. Which I so arrogantly praised myself for acquiring. And with everything defined, categorized, and shelved so nicely, it would leave me in a place that no longer allowed for me to ask who I am and why I am here. Already summarizing that life had little meaning and even less value.

When I used to get to this spot, I would always voice that I no longer felt I had a reason to hope and that I had lost my faith. And go about looking for faith and hope not as objective solutions, but almost deities, defining the value using my subjective context.

And what would happen is that despair would seep right on in, dragging me deeper into feelings of pointlessness.

Lately I’ve been solving these issues by challenging my perspective. Going out and finding families and people who are in great need and have great pain. People whose lives have been torn apart by affairs, theft, drugs, or death.

These are the people who prove that we are not anywhere close to as knowing and mighty as we think. They are the ones to whom faith and hope are requirements. Simple reminders that we will all be broken someday and will cling to our faith and shout our hopes aloud.

Because when you are small, what else is there?

Independent Gracie

My child has a will. Start watching her for just five minutes, and it soon becomes apparent that it is growing at an ever expansive rate. And a core belief of mine, is to teach Gracie how to make her own choices. But last night I ended up drawing a line as she willfully chose to bang her hands on the laptop despite being asked to stop several times (and this is far from the first time).

So as I disciplined her, she looked at me, accusing. The crocodile tears and distraught face were really hard to take.

And I wondered;

Am I doing the wrong thing?

Then I thought of how strange Independence and Discipline are as family constructs and teaching tools. They are many times, not only at odds with each other, but actually in direct competition.

On the one hand I know that by teaching Gracie to self sustain, I am equipping her to move forward when I am no longer on this planet. She absolutely needs this to be able to deal with life when her Daddy is not around.

On the other hand, I realize that it will eventually turn my family’s members into small islands. Each separate, with their own thoughts, desires, beliefs, weaknesses, and strengths. And if the bridges between them are not maintained, if the discipline is not done correctly, I could end up losing her. Still, I know in my heart, that this mustn’t be about me. Its has to be about loving Gracie and equipping her to become who she needs to become. I won’t be here forever.

This got me to thinking about a family friends daughter, who is here in Oregon, as she is about to give birth to twins. But because of who she is, who she chooses to be, she is not allowing any of her newborns’ grand-parents to visit for roughly 4 weeks after the birth. And I know that the grandparents are really hurt, but that they realize that they chose to raise an independent daughter.

So my thoughts continue;

Is this just a taste of what Gracie will choose?

How many small hurts must I prepare for?

This journey of being a parent is a strange and tough one, but the joy Gracie brings is something that I cannot even measure. So despite the chance of not just the minor rejections but the possibility of flat out losing her. I know, deep down, that she is absolutely worth this risk. She is worth the discipline and I hope to encourage her independence, even with the comprehension of what it could eventually mean.

-I love you Gracie
Daddy

To Love or to Loan

When Jaimi and I were first married, we were living in Oregon and had in our possession a Pontiac Grand Am, which even then was on its last legs. After a couple years, it was apparent that the car was not going to make it much further. So my brother, being the kind of guy he was, drove over for a visit.

“Hey man” he said one night “I was thinking of flying back home tomorrow and leaving you guys the mitsubishi pickup. I want to get a different rig anyway, so if you want, you could just give me a thousand for it” his smile was huge, and his dimples were deep. It was obvious, that Jaye was trying to help us. His little mitsubishi was easily valued at over four thousand dollars. But this was the type of person he was.

“Well-” I said stumbling “-we can’t really afford to pay that all at once.”

“I know, I know” he replied. Pulling his hands up, palms out, trying to reassure me. “Just pay me $25-$50 a month for however long it takes. Does that work?”

I smiled “Thanks Jaye, that will help out a lot.”

And so he flew home the next day and time flew right along with him. Days turned into months, and at the end of each, I would sit down and pay the bills. But every month, I would think to myself

You know, Jaye doesn’t need this money right now, he won’t care if I skip this month.

And so I would willingly choose to short my brother. The dude that I am supposed to love and protect.

Three months turned into six, six into nine, and pretty soon a year had passed.

Jaye called me one afternoon asking ”Hey brother! I am driving over for Jaimi’s graduation next weekend, is that cool?”

“That will be awesome!” I replied. Though I knew in my heart, that I wasn’t totally stoked. Because as we all know, when you haven’t been fulfilling your part of a promise, you carry it around like a loose bag of stones.

Jaye arrived on a Friday, I remember him getting out of his new Honda accord and we embraced in a very long hug. Because of Jaye’s history with epilepsy, I remember holding him while thinking

Is this the last time I’ll get to hug my brother?

But this type of thought was fairly common for me. I was the one who originally had found Jaye suffering his first seizure. With all the close calls He had had throughout his life, my brain just digested his condition as increased risk. And at these moments, thoughts like this formed around that fear.

“Good to see you Jaye” I said.

“Well, it is great to see you” he laughed as he spoke. The inside joke being that he knew by using the word “great”, that he had one upped me in our faux sibling rivalry.

The weekend seemed to fly by. And it was filled with hanging out, laughing, and seeing Jaimi walk down the isle to receive her Masters in Education. But throughout all of this, never once did I feel any awkwardness from Jaye. Never once did I feel that he was letting my broken promise affect his love for me.

Before we knew it,  Sunday was upon us and Jaye was by the door starting the ritual goodbye.

He gave me a hug and said “I love you Jared”

“I love you too Jaye” I replied, letting him go. And I watched him reach down and grab his bag, turn his back, and walk out the door.

Realization hit like a lighting bolt as I recognized that Jaye was going to let me off and was not going to bring up the owed money. The grace he was offering me was easy to see, and through his actions, proved that he loved me more than the potential damage in trying to collect. And with this knowledge, my pride bent, and my body acted.

“Hey Jaye!” I called out towards his back. He stopped and slowly turned, walking back straight to the door. When we were standing in front of each other I started to speak.

“I just wanted to let you know-” I began, as my gaze found itself upon my feet and my fingers scratched the back of my neck in awkwardness. “-what I mean, is that I need to apologize to you, for not sending you any money for the pickup. That was wrong of me, and I am sorry.”

Jaye stood still, for what felt like a very long time. Then he took a step and leaned into me, giving a giant bear hug. Pulling back, he held me away from himself by gripping each of my shoulders in one of his hands. I could see that his bright blue eyes were happy, and the depth of his dimples forecasted this same joy.

All he said was “I knew you could do it.”

He then patted my shoulders and turned around taking off at a jog. Quickly escaping the depth of emotion that I knew we were both feeling, upon the newly recovered foundation that had been constructed.

Calling out over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon!”

I yelled back “But Jaye, what about-”

Without turning to face me, and still in stride, he yelled “Don’t worry about it, I don’t care about the money!”

That was the last time I ever saw Jaye, for not a month later he was dead. But when I think of this remarkable life lesson, I am in awe of what he taught me. Which is that a loan is ruled by profit, but grace is entirely funded through love. And it is easy to see, that Jaye truly knew how to love.

* * *

June of this year, marked the five year anniversary of Jaye’s death.  The worst thing about this, is that Gracie was born into a world where her uncle will only exist in stories. I almost couldn’t complete this one, because of the emotion it brought. But if Gracie Jaye is going to learn about her namesake, I knew I had to get it out. Thanks for reading.

Copyright © Jared Folkins
Programming, Computers, Writing, Economics, and Life

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