Sitting staring at the warm glow from my plastic Christmas tree frosted with twinkly lights, I’m reminded of my Christmas’s as a young boy, all of which seem like a life time ago. The distant memories of my childhood festivities still linger in my mind like a sweet flavour that refuses to release its grip from your taste buds long after the treat has gone, such wonderful memories! My experiences as a child are quite different to the ones I look forward to now, yet at the same time a gentle theme connects the two.
I remember growing up, we didn’t have a silly plastic tree, oh no sir! We had the real McCoy, well at least as real as I’ve experienced in the warm climates of Africa, but it was real! Every spiky prickly leaf is unmistakably etched into my mind and the various scars that adorn my arms. We never had fir trees we had hypodermic needle trees! We’d need to move the thing indoors which if you’re wondering was similar to hugging a cactus and moving it from room to room. But when the starship prickles finally landed in our family room and after band aids and anti itch cream were applied, it was a moment of sheer jubilation.
Disclaimer 1: Offence is taken not given, so if after reading you feel a great desire to start a long life altering journey up the miff tree, remember, I pose topics to think about not absolute truths to believe in.
Disclaimer 2: Generally speaking, men don’t step up to the plate in many families, leaving mom’s to handle the fast balls life catapults at them with the greatest poise they can muster. If you identify with one/many/all it doesn’t mean your parenting skills are more Charles Manson than Nanny Mcphee.
OK, so here it goes!
Yup, I said it, and no it’s not a typo. My wife is imperfect!
Granted her list of imperfections is dwarfed by my own impressive expose of not so lovable traits, and yes I did get her ok to throw this list into the cybersphere, but she is imperfect nonetheless and I love her!
This week marks a decade of marriage for the two of us, and on Christmas eve we will have been together for 16 years. Not a small feat considering we have only been alive for twice that time. In hollywood years I believe we are looking at the equivalent of a cool century. So at this mile stone and in celebration of our love, our family and our future adventures, I felt it important to share with the world, or at least the few hundred people who read my blog, that she is imperfect and we still have a cracker of a marriage.
There seems to be a belief rolling through the fields of singleness that to be truly happy, to build a marriage that shouts to the hilltops that perfection has been achieved, to have a relationship that can withstand the storms of life, two perfect people need to find each other, fall in love, get married and without any touch ups, repair work, renovations or upgrades, they will live happily ever after. No doubt will ever enter these people’s minds or hearts, they will never fight and at no time will anger, annoyance or frustration enter the equation. Doubt and uncertainty have no place in the marriage of these two!
What happens when passions fade, when the things you attach your purpose to stop being the reasons you keep moving forward or keep dreaming. When the pieces seem too shattered to gather off the floor, when simply choosing to take another step has become an effort and the noise of your life seems to engulf and overshadow you.
I’m a husband, a father, a soft place, someone who’s heart cries out for the little ones who don’t know they belong. At least that is the me I remember and the me I’m desperately trying to claw my way back to becoming. I write about fathering, sonship, manhood, adoption and all things related. But if you were to take a quick stock of my online footprint, you’d be forgiven for thinking I’ve suffered from little connectivity for most of 2014. What’s happened, where have I gone?