Balance

I'll get straight to the point. I am in a small group reading a small book of the Bible, Colossians, this Lent. I am a father of two small girls; the youngest turned 2 on Saint Patrick's Day. A colossal task - balancing faith and family.

I am going to write something that mankind has possibly never read; a comparison of Chapter 1 of Colossians to a 2-year-old's birthday party. Fatherhood and faith are both mysterious. And away...we...go...

For the Record

Colossians is in the New Testament. My first daughter, 4-years-nuts, does not want you to forget about her during this blog. Think of her as the Old Testament. Today, I attempted to serve her Cheerios, knowing that we were out of Honey Nut Cheerios. As soon as that first Cheerio hit her lips, it was over. "This is not Honey Nut", she declared. She did not yell. She declared.

I finished the boring, regular Cheerios. I finished them out of a tiny bowl with a tiny spoon with a big heart.

Gratitude Kickstart

The book of Colossians begins "We always thank God". The author, Paul, frontloads his writing with gratitude. My youngest daughter was grateful for all the buddies that came to her birthday party. Our house was fire hazard full. My wife and I are blessed with a small army of family and friends.

At one point during our basement bonanza, I sat beside my overwhelmed 2-year-old. Politely she asked, "Dad, do you want to go watch a movie?"

I politely explained we needed to party on. She did. Then, she slept from 6PM to 9PM. Then, she was up until 1 AM.

At 7 AM, I read Colossians. "We always thank God..."

Knowledge is Power

Paul goes on to declare (like a 4-year-old Cheerio connoiseur) that the knowledge of God grows. As my daughters have grown, I have learned from my ambitions and attempts. At this birthday party, I created an Irish Ninja Warrior circuit in our fire hazard full basement, believing at one point I could wrangle all the children, spread out all the adults, and announce an obstacle course for the ages.

I never even tried to wrangle. If all of those partygoers could have seen me the night before...walking alone in my basement...envisioning kids triumphantly pedaling through "Paint Can Alley" and ringing the bell on the toy food truck. I could hear the roar of the crowd.

Paul goes on to write in Colossians, "remain grounded and steadfast in the faith". Warriors shall rise. Just not now...not at this birthday bash.

I imagined Saint Patrick looking down on me, laughing at me, and saying, "I've seen a lot of people pull a lot of stunts on March 17th, but this idea is pure madness."

Move Forward

Paul ends the first chapter with the phrase, "striving with His strength that works powerfully in me". As I scooted around that birthday party, I felt deeply blessed. My marriage - my wife - has powered me for 5+ years; my kids have powered me for 4+years; my faith has evolved, and at times, needed refueled; the Bible is an unparalled spark.

The day after her birthday, I was pushing my 2-year-old on the porch swing. She had on pink sunglasses, a winter hat, and her trademark smile. With the sun beaming on her face, I could see through those sunglasses, her eyes tightly closed. Swinging in the wind, I captured a picture of her - peaceful, joyful, and beautifully 2.

Always thank God.

Buy Honey Nut.

Decision Time

Scattered across our table at the 2019 Chamber Annual Dinner, there were playing cards of Kevin Stevens, a key contributor on back-to-back Stanley Cup winning Pittsburgh Penguins teams. On the back of one of those cards, I scanned the statistics of a winger who often found the back of the net and himself in the penalty box. On the first Thursday of March, Kevin explained how the biggest penality of his life was self-inflicted.

Most hockey penalties lead to 2 minutes of alone time. As  Denis Lemieux from Slapshot so eloquently put it, "Two minutes, by yourself, you know and you feel shame, you know. And then you get free."  In 1,470 career penality minutes, Kevin Stevens was freed from the box each and every time. A 10 second decision to get high imprisioned Kevin for many, many years after his NHL days were over.

The addiction part of the story is familar, at least for me. The devastation caused by drug addiction is something I have heard, witnessed, and felt. Professionally, you get used to it; you understand it; you even get numb to it.

The recovery part of the story is the hope. The triumph of recovery is something I have heard, witnessed, and felt. Professionally, you get motivated by it; you understand it is possible; you even get hopeful everyone has a fighting chance. Hopelessness cannot exist.

Kevin Stevens talked brutally candid. Just like one of his checks into the boards, his words were raw and powerful. He recognized he got lucky - that he did not reach for that high when he was a teenager or in college; that addiction did not take his life; that a judge gave him a chance to give back instead of taking his freedom.

Fame brought Kevin to Johnstown to give this speech. His days as a Penguin spark his recovery story. Johnstown has always been a hockey town. Like every other town in our country, it is a recovery town too.

Stories about drug addiction bombard the news, much like how opiates bombard the brain. Addiction has a stigma. Recovery is a struggle. Kevin Stevens - to his credit - has taken that struggle and found purpose.

In our day-to-day struggles, hopefully we all find purpose; we all tell stories to uplift and listen to stories that bring hope.

Decide to be hopeful. Decide now. Pass it on.