Being a parent is the perfect metaphor of “two steps forward, one step back.” It’s just the way things work in parenting. I thought about that as my youngest son wheeled out of the drive in his ’99 Subaru, loaded to the gills with his belongings to venture from the nest and into the great unknown. Parenting is uphill both ways. It’s not a race to the finish line. There is no finish line, and many days it’s a slow slog.

It’s like those moments when you get your kitchen so clean that you could be considered obsessive compulsive, and then you walk into a family room flooded with the chaos of matchbox cars, action figures, building blocks, and dinosaurs (some of them slathered with chocolate pudding cups). Two steps forward, one step back.

I don’t know how many times I’ve had to jump through all the hoops of getting the guys to bed, but now that we’re past that stage, I’ve realized that hoop jumping was my superpower. A certain number of pages must be read, teeth need to be brushed, prayers must be said, and covers need to be adjusted. And just at the right time, they’d crave water like a Labrador Retriever in the Sahara Desert. It seemed like my boys were never tired until they collapsed. Darlene and I said what all parents say from time to time: “It’s not about how tired you are, it’s about how tired you are making us.” After our last son, we relaxed as parents. We were so busy with the schedules of Upward Basketball, birthdays, carpools, parties, and science projects, we’d find him sprawled out on the family room floor with a half-eaten fruit roll-up in his little hand. Two steps forward, one step back.

We’ve missed a lot of adventures because we had kids. We’ve never been to those luxury resorts with crystal blue waters and not a stroller in a hundred miles. But we’ve been to a few amusement parks and wrestled a wild, squirming five-year-old for thirty minutes to administer amoxicillin. We found these moments both traumatizing and, I must confess, somewhat exciting. Sometimes they get so dirty, the bathtub was out of the question. They were backyard, spray-them-down-with-the-water-hose dirty. We found parenting a rewarding rollercoaster ride of sound and fury, signifying a whole lot of stuff. Two steps forward, one step back.

I’m not a perfect parent, and we didn’t raise perfect kids. Becoming a good father has been two steps forward and one step back. I said, “Maybe” when I was really thinking, Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. For years I’ve stolen peanut butter cups from my sons on November 1^st. I’ve made stuff up when the answers to their questions would require more wisdom and intelligence than I have at 5:30 in the morning. But now that they are gone, we still hear their voices echoing quietly through the house in our memories. They robbed our peace but stole our hearts. And that’s for good. We treasure the days they return as adults for holidays and celebration. Our roles as parent have changed. We made progress even though it was two steps forward and one step back.

ever since the days of yellow buses and rocket ships
that landed after lunar conquest
i have yearned to see beyond this skin
the bold courageous Warrior
that lies within

He triumphs over veiled conspiracy
the grassy knolls of hostility
flying headlong into the undiscovered 
creeds of truth
and that’s where i am 
before the thoughts slow down
and the angels bring the grace of sleep.

this (one and only) God
knows my weak mortality
keeps me from insanity
my words in all their gravity
redeeming my depravity

nothing stops the Spirit’s rise
above my feeble alibis
and in the morning
the beat of yeaning has begun.
Sweet Jesus whispers still:
O Jerusalem.

G. K. Chesterton once said, “The worst moment for an atheist is when he is really thankful and has no one to thank.”

Well, I am not an atheist. I have Someone to thank. But as I’ve gown older, my gratitude list has become a little unexpected. My gratitude spans over many years, towns, jobs, and circumstances, but only one wife. And I’m thankful for that as well. One wife. I don’t know how the “multiple wife” thing would ever really work, and I don’t know any Fundamentalist Mormons to ask.

I’m thankful for the unexpected rescues that I’ve experienced, like the old lady in our church who had the stealth and courtesy to let me know my fly was unzipped before I got up to pray in front of the whole church on Easter Sunday last year. That’s called mercy.

And I’m thankful for the fireman who came to our house so quickly after our two-year-old got stuck inside the leg lifter of our recliner several years ago. Don’t ask me how he did that. There are certain things toddlers never reveal. I thought they were going to have to come in with the “jaws of life,” but it only took a special screwdriver to free the child, and the fireman even stayed to reassemble the chair. That’s called grace. 

I’m also thankful for my sisters who prepared me for marriage by helping me learn that it’s impossible to win an argument with a woman you live with. That’s called wisdom. 

I’m thankful that most broken electronics are fixed by unplugging them, waiting thirty seconds, and plugging them back in. I’m thankful for the internet and video assembly demonstrations for items that come with French language instruction manuals that only show arrows, slots, and hardware. Otherwise, I’d have a storage room of random, useless parts.

I’m thankful that I didn’t win the auditions for several theatre MFA programs after college. I would have never met my wife, and I would probably be doomed to a life of off-off-Broadway productions and bit parts lasting three seconds on CSI as the dead body.

I’m thankful for the near misses, the high school break-ups, the interstate break-downs, freedom from wealth that could have made me over-confident and less hungry, and the times I got sick, which God used as forced Sabbaths when I was too busy. I’ve come to realize that the blessings of life rarely come from shortcuts, windfalls, and leisure cruises. Instead, I am blessed because of a lot of things that were awkward, uncomfortable, disappointing, and scary. Each moment and person reminds me there was Someone behind the scenes, working all things together for my good. All things––even the unfortunate and slightly embarrassing ones.

Photo: Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash