A Friend in Pig-pen Pt. 1

     I've long been fond of the character Pig-pen from the Peanuts comic strip. One cartoon shows him clean himself up, go outside, and as he walks only a few steps, he is back to his same dirty self. Even when he tries to be well-groomed, life just makes him messy again. I can relate to Pig-pen. Just when I've cleaned up one area of my life, there's another that needs tending to.
     I'm about to get vulnerable, fair warning. However, I know as I share out of my weakness and brokenness, it will connect with someone else's and offer them hope (which, I guess, has become my mantra). It is no secret that I'm a recovering addict and I thank God for sobriety and healing in certain areas of my life. But addicts are known to struggle with more than one addiction, or trade one for another. And I'm humbled to admit that's me.
     My eating habits never really matured. I'm not a big fan of salads, always preferred regular sodas over diet, and helped myself to something sweet to eat after a meal. For the last few years I have been dealing with aspects of food addiction. I hesitate when I think of typing the details because it's embarrassing... I got into the habit of waiting until everyone was in bed at night, sneaking out and driving to a nearby fast food joint, and bringing home an entire meal to consume in front of the TV. This would happen at least three or four times a week.
     Marty and I would have discussions around my diet and I would brush off her concerns or admit I needed to change, but nothing ever really stuck. I knew she was worried about me, but it still wasn't enough to make me do something about my issue.
     One night I pulled up to the window at the Jack in the Box that is two blocks away from my house. The worker greeted me warmly and asked,"Are you coming from home?" "Yes," I said. "You're earlier than usual," she observed. And at that, I was humiliated. That was as bad as it could get. The drive-up window attendant knew me on sight and knew my late-night routine. As I drove away, I told myself I would never patronize that place again. And I haven't been back since. Maybe I wouldn't be as familiar at Taco Bell down the road...
     To be continued...
   

2011 Year in Review

     I am approaching the final hour of 2011. I'm in a place with passed out people and balloons strewn around (translation: my kids are asleep and the remnants of Julia's birthday party are all about the floor). I choose to quietly ring in the new year as I sit in "Chaz," our chair and a half... Yes, I named a piece of furniture because I got tired of writing in my journal, "As I sit here in our chair and a half..." It was a quieter year for the Couch's, thank God, but there are still some monuments worth revisiting...

• Marty became an adjunct professor at Western Seminary, her alma mater. My amazing wife is teaching graduate level courses. She's incredible.
• I became a substitute teacher and passed my CBEST test, quite a personal accomplishment for me since math was involved.
• Marty and I presented our ministry through seminars, sermons, speaking engagements and break out sessions throughout the year and continued our counseling seeing couples in need. 

• Both Julia and Ella had pieces of artwork selected by their teachers to be displayed in the city's art museum. Only two kids were chosen per class, so to have both of my daughters in different grades selected made me right proud. 

• Both Julia and Ella were given the President's Silver award at the end of the school year for academic excellence. Again, only two students per class are given these awards and, again, both my girls scored one (Julia's third to date). How did this Oakie get such smart yungins? 
• Max graduated from Village Little Pre-school and became a model for the school when they blew up a banner with his picture on it and hung it on the front of our former church. He is literally larger than life. 
• I became a US missionary with our denomination, specialized chaplaincy department, further defining our ministry and giving it more structure. 
• With God's help, I was able to complete seven graduate courses going towards my Master's in Pastoral Counseling. Four more to go and I'll be done in May. So excited.
• God has faithfully and miraculously provided for us as we have continued to walk by faith. I've heard others say "I don't know how we made it financially..." and that is our testimony as well. He is truly our provider. All thanks and glory to Him. 

Best Quotes of 2011

     Here are some nuggets I heard or heard myself saying through the year...

     "Don't be yourself, be better than that." - Jenny Conlee

     "You did what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better." - Maya Angelou

     "The enablement derived from the experience of suffering permits us to minister to other people more effectively than the most powerful sermon." - Ronald Hawkins

     "The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do." - Mark Twain

     "I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble." - Helen Keller

     "Be profound, be funny, or be quiet." - Unknown

     "I can blame no one for what I do with (my life). I can blame them for what they do to me, but I cannot blame them for what I do with what they do to me. I am responsible for how I respond." 

 - Dr. Henry Cloud

     "Honest doubt may be a truer religious attitude than superficial belief." - taken from Old Testament Survey

     "Don't waste a perfectly awful circumstance that can push you into God's presence." - T.S.C.

     "Own only what is true about you, the good and the bad, and not what people merely think about you, the good and the bad." - T.S.C. 

     I don't believe in the sentiment "Happy New Year." The truth of the matter is there will be happy times, and there will be tears. So make it a joyful New Year no matter what it brings. God be with us.

Nine

     Julia's life didn't start out very smoothly. Marty had already suffered two miscarriages before Julia's conception, and anything that was out of the ordinary in that first tri-mester made us nervous. We had some tests done during the pregnancy and the results took us to see a genetics specialist. She told us our baby was missing something important and the result could be this or that and later on in life this could happen, or at the very least she could be a carrier of this.  That being said, she gave us the option to terminate the pregnancy. Of course we didn't even consider it, yet we prayed that Julia's life would be in God's hands.
     When she was born, she was beautiful, but doctors and interns kept coming in and checking her legs and it was soon determined that she had congenital hip dysplasia (the ball and socket in her hip wasn't done cooking since she was three weeks early). This meant she would have to be fitted for a brace to keep her legs in a position that imitated the womb so her joint could develop properly. Marty had this same condition when she was a baby and it led to her being in a half body cast for a good part of her toddling years, so we were a little uneasy about Julia's condition.
     At the age of two months, Julia couldn't hold anything down and started losing weight when babies are supposed to be gaining. After a trip to the doctor, they admitted her to Stanford Hospital because she was diagnosed with pyloric stenosis. A surgery was scheduled to fix the problem and then she was fitted for her brace.
     There were several follow up appointments for her hip and also for the original concerns when she was still in Marty's tummy. We were told to watch her at certain stages of her life, and if she was advancing normally, then no need to worry.
     Julia has grown into a beautiful and active young lady. When she was in kindergarten and turned out to be the tallest girl in the class, I remembered her backstory and the genetics counselors "offer," and it made me shudder. When she does cartwheels and backbends I recall the brace that held her legs in captivity when most babies that age are kicking their feet just because.
     Two years ago I was asked to speak at a High School Christian Club's event The gym was full of public school students and I was asked to share something about God that would possibly speak into these students' lives. I decided to tell Julia's story, from genetics counselor's office to that day, and I had brought a special guest with me. I pulled my daughter out of school to be my sermon illustration, and after the kids heard about her rough beginnings, I had Julia walk up and join me in that gym. As she did, the high school students started applauding and some were wiping their eyes.
     Afterwards, one of the leaders of the Christian Club told me that a friend had said he didn't really believe in God, but after hearing Julia's story and seeing her walk up there, he was starting to believe. She was already ministering as a 7 year old (and even before that).

     Today is my baby girl's birthday. She is nine, and I love her with all my heart. And, you know, I look at her, and it makes me believe in God, too. Happy Birthday, Babe.

The Stockings Were Hung...

   
     A few years ago, Marty wanted to get matching stockings for the whole family, but I'm very sentimental and nostalgic. Marty's stocking was made by her grandmother. It's a little tattered and worn but I love that about it. It keeps her grandma with us at Christmas. My mom made mine. Two pieces of felt sown together cut out in the shape of a stocking, my name written down the middle with a permanent marker and "God Bless You" at the top. Its a model no one would choose,  but it's the only stocking I've ever known and I cherish it. Mom also made all three of my kids' stockings. Julia and Ella have matching crocheted "slipper and sock" kind of style, totally made with love (I'm convinced that Mom used miles of yarn in her lifetime with all the things she crocheted).
     And then there is Max's. Kind of an updated version of mine. It probably wouldn't win any home-made stocking contests, but it's what's inside that counts, literally. Max was only a year and a half when mom passed, so he hadn't been in possession of his stocking for more than one year our first Christmas without her. When I went to hang his stocking, I felt something in the toe of it. I reached inside  and pulled out a note I had never read before.  It was from my just departed mom, to my son: "Dear Max, This did not turn out as good as I wanted it. I hope it's okay for now. I am still looking for my other pattern. I know you understand all this cause you are really smart. I love you. Nanny." My eyes welled up with tears as I looked at my mom's familiar handwriting. Knowing she wanted to make him a "better" stocking and that she didn't get the chance killed me. But knowing that the one she gave him was totally made with love makes it the best stocking he could ever have.
     That note remains in the toe of his stocking, and always will as long as I have something to say about it. Max didn't get a chance to know his Nanny, but I'm hoping that note will be a lasting indicator of how much she loved him while she was here.
     Needless to say, the Couch's won't be having matching stockings any time soon... unless there's a really big sale.

The Cat

We have this cat.
He has a routine. Early in the morning he'll walk through the house and creak out his meow until someone feeds him. Once he's been served, he comes back in the house and yells at anyone who will listen to him.
Once the house is quiet (meaning kids have left for school), he settles in for his six hour nap.
Around 3PM, he gets up, stretches, and starts demanding to be fed again whether his bowl has food in it or not. If he is ignored, which he usually is because dinner isn't until 5, he'll take a few sprints in the hallway, the extent of his exercise regime, and end up in the living room, complaining about God knows what (probably about not being fed), as he looks out the sliding glass door.
From this point on, if anyone makes their way to the kitchen, he is right behind them, singing the same song.
Again, after being fed his dinner, he'll come back in and give us an earful as if he was starving.
Once the family has settled in for the night, he'll take any available lap and park it.
At bedtime, he'll either lay down with Marty as she unwinds with a movie or cuddle up with Julia in her bed.
Every night before I turn in I track him down and put him back in the garage where he sleeps for the evening.
I'd like to be the cat (except for the sleeping in the garage part).

And the Winners Are...

Ronda and Cheri! Sorry it took so long for me to post this. Life's been crazy, but it's still free stuff! Ronda, you took first prize, so email me (shaqne@gmail.com), or message me on facebook your address and I'll get out to you your choice of the Rose soap of the manly man one. Cheri, you'll get whatever Ronda doesn't choose, but email or message me your address. Congratulations and Merry Christmas.

"Black Friday" Giveaway

     I have a couple great stocking stuffers to give away, but a little back story first. At my former church, there was a very sweet lady named Veronica (I dig her name being an Archie fan and all). When I was going through probate dealing with my parents' estate, I needed a notary for several documents. Veronica made herself available to be my notary whenever and how often I needed her at no charge. In that stressful time in my life, she was a genuine blessing. I also had the privilege of being her son's youth pastor for a year before I left. Great kid! I miss them.
     I wanted to drum up a little business for Veronica. She's a single mom who started her own soap company out of her home. In the past, she has blessed me with her wares on several occasions for Pastor Appreciation month, etc., and she has sent me some free samples to give away here on my blog.
     The first item is a soap bar called "Rose." I'll let you read about it here.

     The second is an item for men, called "Rugged Man." Read about it here.

     Yeah, my blog is looking an little girly foo foo with this soap stuff on it, but giving Veronica a plug is so worth it. 

     To win a bar, post a comment here by this "Black" Friday. In your comment, mention the bar you would prefer to win. Winners will be chosen at random and first choice goes to first place with second place receiving the remaining bar. 

     Don't forget to visit Veronica's website, The Cupertino Soap Company and give her a little extra cash for Christmas this year. Soap's on!

The Best Second Born Child In the World

     When we found out we were pregnant with our second child, we waited until the birth to find out if it was going to be a boy or a girl. Therefore, this little one's arrival was greatly anticipated because the birth day was going to be a surprise party as well. We already had one sweet little girl, and if I had another, that would have been just fine with me. When Ella popped out (Marty says there's no "popping" involved in child birth), I was so happy to be the daddy of another daughter.
     A month and a half after she was born, Ella and I were in a play together for our church's Christmas Eve service. I played a new dad and she played my brand new baby boy! In the monologue I recited lines from a memorized script that talked about hopes and dreams for the little one in my arms, plans to protect and teach and provide for, and a strong desire for this kid to know God as the heavenly Father He is. As I rocked in the chair saying my lines, I couldn't help but cry because these were my personal dreams for my baby girl (that was doing a fabulous job playing the part of a newborn boy!).  After the play, someone came up to me and said I was a great actor, probably because they thought I managed to produce tears, but there was little acting involved.
     Tonight is the eve of my second daughter's birthday. She turns seven tomorrow. As tradition calls for, she went to the bookshelf containing all my journals and picked out "the one." We climbed up on my bed and as she lay in my arms, I read her the story of the night she was born. She giggled at the name we picked out if she was a boy, she guffawed at how much she weighed at birth... and she was growing up so quickly lying there with me tonight.

   
     I wrote in her birthday card that she means the world to me and that she has my heart and all my love.  There's no middle child syndrome going on here. She is precious, she is treasured, and she is mine all mine. Happy Birthday, Ella Bella.

This is Halloween

   
     Some memories from childhood aren't so grand, but then there are those I cherish, like Halloween on Reimche Drive. My mom wasn't a big fan. She told me annually they weren't having Halloween this year.
     Regardless of her lack of enthusiasm, I loved this particular holiday. Walking into my classroom in grammar school on October 1 was always thrilling for me because the teachers at Turner Elementary went all out when decorating their rooms. After school, I would get on my bike and ride around the block to see who had put up there Halloween fare in the windows.
     Then there was the night itself. Had to eat dinner before going trick or treating, but I was too excited to be hungry (unless the menu included items such as little Snickers bars and the like). Speaking of Halloween candy, I always took umbrage at the label they stamped on the wrappers that indicated the product was the "fun size." Those tiny little offerings weren't the "fun size." Full size candy bars, even king size would be the fun size!
     Our neighborhood was perfect for trick or treating. My house was surrounded by neighbors with kids my age. We would gather with a designated parent and hit the streets. I'll never forget certain houses. There was the lady in the court who would grab a handful of candy and drop it in our pillow cases (pillow cases, to haul the most booty). Loved her. Then, on the corner the house that hosted a ghost that would come shooting out of the garage when we rang the doorbell. Took me a couple years to work up the courage  to call on that home, but eventually, the want for candy became greater than the fear of the flying specter.
     I loved our bravado. Once we went around the block and hit both sides of the street, we would go around again. Yeah, we were met with the occasional "Weren't you here before?" but that never kept anyone from giving up the goods.
     Then there was the Great Halloween Debacle of '78. On one particular porch, my pillow case split open and my candy spilled out like a pinata's innards. Kids starting grabbing my loot and stuffing it in their bags until my brother yelled at them to knock it off. The gang moved on while I was left picking up the pieces. I believe I trick or treated alone for the rest of that night.
     As a dad, I enjoy Halloween with my kids. I don't tell them "they're not having it this year." We start talking about costumes in May! Every year I say I'm dressing up like my kids' dad, and I wouldn't dream of not walking around with them through the neighborhood. A posse' will gather here on October 31, a group of school friends that will make our house home base, and after we've converged, we'll show no mercy! My kids have their favorite houses, too. The nice elderly lady with the laughing witch on her porch, and the "Pumpkin House" down the street that hands out goody bags with FULL SIZE candy bars! Redemption.
 

Let Me See It

     When I graduated college, my dad came up to me and asked to see my diploma... but it was in absentia. I still had one more class to finish so I didn't get the piece of parchment paper with the cool calligraphy writing on it that day. Rest assured, I did earn it later on, but I'll never forget my dad's face when he asked to see what was inside my degree holder. And the way he asked... there was pride gushing out of every mono-syllabic word: "Let me see it."
     Neither of my parents finished high school. Life threw them some curve balls and they swung as best as they could. They both learned to work hard, and not necessarily at jobs they enjoyed, but they needed to get food on the table, so they endured.
     They never pushed me to get good grades. In fact, they never sat on top of me to even get my homework done. As long as I wasn't failing, they were content. So I meandered through high school academically. I wasn't planning on continuing my education. My parents didn't push me to, either. They just wanted me to get a good paying job so I could take care of myself. So my Senior year of mostly electives was pretty cake.

     Obviously, Mom and Dad didn't go to college. So I was the first out of my immediate family to enroll in a four year academic institution. Therefore, my parents couldn't have been more proud when I walked the line at Bethany College. When Dad asked to see my diploma, it was like it was his chance to hold one of those things that he never got close to, not even once in his life. The rest of the day was weird with family dynamics in full force, but I'll cherish the moment my dad said, "Let me see it."
     With my family background, I'm actually kind of befuddled that I am working on my Master's in Pastoral Counseling. Up until this term, I was taking one class at a time, but I had to up it to two to get financial aid. That was initially worrisome for me. I have three kids under my feet. Others had posted on the Liberty University discussion board that they tried two classes at a time, but it was too much. Yet. this week I will finish out my first term taking two courses simultaneously. And I passed. And on this track, I will have my Master's in May. Un-stinking-believeable. I don't know how this transpired. I can only give the credit to God for seeing me through this process because I certainly wasn't cut out for it.
     It is in moments like these that I so wish Mom and Dad could know what I was up to. I would never wish them back to earth, they had enough pain here, but in May, I will be wishing for that phone line to heaven that doesn't exist so I could call them up and tell them I just earned my Master's degree. And, oh how great it would be to hear my dad say, "Let me see it."