Reflection: A Delicate Balance

Recently I pulled out my Passion Planner and took a look at some of my goals that I set for the first three months of the year. Each year as the year ends/begins, I like to set a few goals for myself in areas spanning from my own health and wellness to home improvement projects and self-enrichment--things like learning new skills or refining existing skills. As I looked over my list, I realized something happened since the beginning of the year that had shifted some of these goals, that something is a really good thing, it is a desire to savor every moment I have with Jamie and Sylvia.

Among the many goals I started the year with, some have just had to just get reprioritized for now. I've heard it said that we tend to overestimate what we can accomplish in a year, and underestimate what we can accomplish in five. Last year, as we were getting ready for Sylvia's arrival, Jamie and I found ourselves taking on more and more big projects, and not only taking them on, but getting them done. One of my dear friends and personal coach took a look at five of my goals that were launching between September and December of last year and said if I only accomplished one of them it would be huge; I'm grateful that I was able to take on and accomplish all five, but I'm not sure how sustainable that pace is for the long haul.

This year, I've noticed a natural gravitation toward goals that are focused more on family, health, and wellness, than on next major steps for the house, or new skills, hobbies, or interests being cultivated. And, while I want to continue to grow and expand in skills, during this season, my focus has become more centered on daily habits that build toward long-term goals. This is probably true for every single one of us, but over the last few months, I have become more aware of it than ever. I'm striving to take vacation (something I've historically not been the best at), and I am taking more intentional daily space to get away from connected devices, from social media, and from work, although my friends and the farmers I have the privilege of serving alongside are never far from my heart and mind. And, while my blogging frequency has dropped pretty significantly this year, I am still taking time for reflection.

What I've been discovering during this season is that there is a delicate balance as we each learn and grow and make our unique contributions to this world, and that there is a value to building foundations that will secure both the longevity and the depth of these contributions. Part of what has brought this truth into focus for me has been the blessing of having Sylvia join our family. Even more than before, I want to be stronger, healthier, and better at all that I am doing so I can be more readily available to play, to grow, to learn, and to enjoy this beautiful world with her and Jamie. We daily get play-time together, and we make it a point to have at least an hour each day outside. Beyond these daily routines, I've doubled down on fitness and health and made significant cuts to the amount of sugar I consume (I know that my habits have a potential to become Sylvia's), slowly and steadily train toward a fifth Marine Corps Marathon for Nuru, and building an almost daily regimen of bodyweight training and mobility.

While I could have chosen to focus my efforts toward achieving a litany of goals like the ones I have listed in my Passion Planner (blogging more frequently, working toward a blue belt in Gracie Jiu Jitsu, paint the house), those goals will still be available next year. What won't be available again next year is Sylvia's first year of life, and witnessing all of the discoveries and developments she is making. I don't think I'll regret waiting a little bit before painting the house. It will still need to be done, but I believe I'm gaining by waiting.

I believe each of us has a great deal we want to accomplish during our short period of years on this earth for the good of others and for the glory of our Creator. May we each be granted wisdom and discernment to know when to start, how to prioritize, and how to make the most of our limited days on this earth!

Remembering Mom And Celebrating A Legacy

It's been exactly ten years since family and friends were called to say our final goodbyes to my mom as she fought tenaciously for ten months in a battle she finally lost to stage four breast cancer. As I think back to those last few days with her on this earth, there was so much of who she was becoming being manifest to each of us. She was looking forward into eternity and encouraging us with every step as her time in this world was drawing short. A few days after the announcement had come that she had a maximum of six months without treatment and a maximum of 18 months with treatment, she shared with one of her fellow church members during a time of church-wide prayer for their healing, "No matter what happens, we win!" Her attitude was infectiously positive even in the middle of trying circumstances. She always set her sights on what was possible and encouraged others to do the same in every aspect of life. She was the kind of person that people write songs about, and in fact, my best friend in the whole world, Willie, did just that.



My mom left this world at age 61 after 43 years of marriage, but I can't really bring myself to say that she died. As the philosopher Dallas Willard has said, "We are each unceasing spiritual beings with an eternal destiny in God's great universe." And as another philosopher and writer C.S. Lewis has said, "You have never met a mere mortal." When my mom left this world to be with Jesus, we mourned her departure, and celebrated the small part of her life we witnessed. And in those few years from then until now, I believe that each of us who knew her has tried to imitate her faith. You see, we can't live our lives in exactly the same way, but we can be imitators of the faith that we witness in those around us and those who have come before us. In some ways, that is one of the most beautiful gifts we can carry, and we can pass on to others who will walk this world long after we have breathed our last.

So much has happened in these last ten years. Her oldest grandchild graduated from a prestigious institution of higher learning, and her youngest grandchild only recently was born. My dad, my sister, my brother, and myself have each sought to deepen and enrich our own walks of faith, and live as a sign, a foretaste, and an instrument of God's Kingdom come, and His will being done on earth as it is in heaven--to the best of our ability.

There have been so many incredible experiences I've had over these last ten years that I wish I could share with my mom. I wish she would have been able to spend more time with Jamie, and celebrate with us on our wedding day. I wish she could have been able to meet Sylvia, and hold her and be one more experienced voice encouraging my wife as she entered into the joys and anxieties that are unique to motherhood. I wish I could have shared just a few of the photos, stories, and adventures I've been privileged to enjoy over these last ten years.

But its not just the stories from my life that I'd love to share. I wish she could see what a disciplined athlete my sister has become, and how her life has flourished over these last few years as she started running and winning trophies for her exploits on roads and trails. I wish she could have seen Dad heroically come back from a heart attack that would have killed most people. She would have loved to have seen the way he fought back and strengthened his heart, and how he gives so generously of himself to care for each of us kids and for so many others. And I wish she could see what a servant leader my brother has continued to be as well. She would have been so impressed with his recent 90 mile bike ride and the way he has led the carpool van for his work by waking up a little after 4AM every weekday for nearly 20 years to drive 8-10 coworkers over an hour to work.

Not that she wasn't proud of us before these last ten years, because she definitely was. She was a huge source of encouragement and inspiration for just about every person with whom she crossed paths. Moments of loss, as painful as they are, remind us to walk gently on this earth, and to love others deeply while we can. Seeing my mom in those last hours, unrelenting in her care for each of us as friends and family gathered in prayer, mourning and strange as it may seem, laugher, those images have become seared in my memory and in my own internal compass as I continue to seek to imitate her persevering and unshakeable tenacity and faith. Even until her last breath, she loved deeply, she ran her race strong, and she never wavered in her care for the rest of us.

If you knew my mom, you know what a special lady she was. And if you didn't, I hope you get the privilege of meeting her one day. Mom's have a special relationship with their children, and while each of us continues to live out our life with zeal and determination, I think each one of us kids (and Dad too), has those moments to this day, when all is quiet, and we have at the same time a deep sense of loss, and a deeper sense of appreciation for each moment we have.

May each of us walk gently on this earth, filled with compassion for others, and with a deep sense of awe for this beautiful place and the wonderful relationships with which the Creator of the universe has blessed each of us. And, may He give each of us space, as we need it, to grieve fully and fearlessly for those, like my mom, who have gone on to be with Jesus before us.

Reflection: Remembering Franklin Delanor Lambert, Junior

As I sit down to write this post, I'm a little in shock. My mind is swirling with memories--laughter tears, and long, meaningful conversations that won't happen again on this side of eternity. Last night, I learned that one of my oldest friends, and one I had not seen in person for a very long time, died of a heart attack. He had just recently turned 43 years old.

Frank was a proud West Virginian and a proud Mountaineer. He had grown up in some of the hill country of West Virginia (Elkins), and had moved to some of the river country (Parkersburg) our senior year of high school. And while we both knew each other then, we really became good friends our freshman year of college at WVU on the basketball courts and in the residence halls.

Frank had a deep appreciation for music, and probably had the biggest music collection of anyone I have ever known. And he knew the music too--every album--he could tell you about the artist and explain the nuances of the songs. He was a huge fan of all kinds of music from Pearl Jam to Cyprus Hill and just about everything in between. Back in college we would spend hours listening to and talking about the latest albums, and he would be among the first to acquire them at the Discount Den in Morgantown.

Frank and his sister Angie introduced me to the Forest Festival in Elkins, and because of them, I have been able to introduce it to members of my own family as well. Frank was incredibly generous with his time and was always willing to help out a friend in need. When I was installed as a chief in my tribal community nearly 17 years ago, Frank was among a select few friends from outside my tribe who I was privileged to invite to our land and have him witness that historic moment. Frank was a history major in his undergrad too, and so there was something special about having this friend share in a piece of history.

I believe it was through Frank that I discovered just how close Pittsburgh was to Morgantown as he would invite a group of friends to travel with him to explore the city. I can remember many drives to Pittsburgh while we were in school. Frank also believed in being well-dressed. In fact, he and a couple of other friends took me on a "fashion emergency" trip (before it was a thing) because my wardrobe and style could "use some work." We definitely had a lot of awesome road trips together.

And wow, we could spend HOURS on the basketball court. We would play hoops outside til dark, or head to Stansbury Hall (the courts where Jerry West played) and shoot hoops until we got kicked out of the building. In fact, many times we would shoot hoops and then listen to tunes and talk about the games we played--we would even try to come up with creative plays. And actually, there was a time where me, Frank, and my roommate at the time (Andy) got invited to play in a prison by a dude we were playing who happened to be a prison guard at a supermax prison in Pennsylvania. That game was pretty unforgettable--everyone in the prison came out to watch the game with us "outsiders" and we got SMOKED--I think we lost by 30+ points. I have lots of great memories with Frank on the basketball court, and he was a strong athlete.

Frank was always willing to speak truth to me (and to anyone) whether it might hurt or not. He never did it out of malice, but always to help people be better human beings and better friends. I remember one occasion when I had told him that I was going to come to a cookout he was hosting, and as I was walking there I ran into two other groups of friends at two different times, and ended up not making it to the cookout. He called me out for not honoring my word. At the time it really stung because I really valued keeping my word (and I still do). He told me he knew that I had the intention of being there but that if I commit and I don't follow through it hurts people, and that it wasn't the first time I had done it and that he wasn't the only person I had done it to. He told me that other people understood my intentions were good, but that I was hurting my friends and friendships when I didn't follow through and honor my word. Frank made me, and everyone he met a better person.

We went through our share of hardships together. One of the foremost burned into my mind happened during 2006 and 2007. Frank's dad and my mom were both diagnosed with cancer. We would see each other at the hospital often as our parents were going through the last stages of their fights with cancer. And as Frank was watching his dad fight hard in a losing battle against cancer, he was also getting ready to marry the love of his life, Dena. I remember going to their wedding in Ohio, and all of the sadness and joy being swirled together. Frank lost his dad, and I lost my mom within days of each other. Loss is always hard, but enduring it as you are starting a new life with someone and adding to your family is a difficult path to walk. Frank always walked the path bravely though, in every area of life.

Frank was 43 years old. And now his wife, sister, and mom (and many others) are grieving his unexpected death. For my part, I had hoped that we might be able to connect the last time I was in Parkersburg--I was hoping he would be able to meet my daughter and wife. And learning news of his death makes me want to be even more committed to do everything I can to live as long as I can on this earth with Jamie and Sylvia. I know our time of departure from this life is not entirely up to us, but I want to do everything within my power to ensure that my choices are not limiting the quality and quantity of the time I have left.

May we each savor the moments and memories we have, and as we are able, make new ones to cherish and treasure in this life, and Frank, may you rest in peace my brother.

Reflection: Marine Corps Marathon 2016

After two full and amazing days sharing Nuru’s story with folks at the expo, I had the privilege of lining up with about 30,000 other runners from around the world to run my fourth Marine Corps Marathon.

This time was really different for me. I had not trained as diligently as I had in previous years, and I had a couple of injuries during the summer. Not only that, but this was the first time I ran the Marine Corps Marathon without Jamie there with me. She was of course busy caring for Sylvia, so I thought this year I would be running for all three of us. This was my first Marine Corps Marathon as a father too.

Thankfully I was at least able to start the race with my good friend JR Pittman. He decided to run for Nuru with me this year, and we had a great run during the first half of the race, and then my lack of training at longer distances began to catch up with me. I made it about eighteen miles before I started cramping up, and I think that was about the same time the sun came out, and the temperature began to shoot upward a little more quickly. Even with the heat, the fatigue, and the cramping, I am so glad I persevered through it.

When I think about all of the runners who have joined me in running to help Nuru fight extreme poverty, I get a little emotional. Thirty thousand people run this race each year, and I’ve been so grateful that slightly under 100 of them have run with Team Nuru. And, I think about all that each one of us gets out of the deal. Not only are we helping others half way around the world, but we are also making ourselves better in the process.

A lesson I learned from my first Marine Corps Marathon in 2013 was that the training and the race provide a great tool for exercising self-discipline, long-term planning, and working toward a larger goal. I’ve been able to translate those same attributes into many other areas of my life, and I can’t help but think that they will help me be a better father and a better husband too.

When I crossed the finish line, I took a few seconds to express my gratitude for finishing the race. I also took a few seconds to pose for a starjump in honor of Jamie since she wasn’t there with me this year.

As the miles began to add up, I remember two distinct voices in the crowd (other than the ones offering hot dogs, beverages, and gummy bears). There was a little girl around mile 17 and a little boy around mile 22. They were probably each around six years of age. The little girl yelled out as I went by, “Keep going, you can do it!” and the little boy yelled, “Don’t ever give up, keep going!” And for some reason, amid all of the various cheers and shouts, the words of these two children yelling with all they could muster made their way into my heart, and my eyes teared a little. Their words of encouragement are what we all need to remember, no matter what the challenge is we are going through.

There is at least One Voice out there that believes the absolute best for each of us, and if we are attentive we can single it out above all of the noise. And, as we apply discipline to our lives and accomplish challenging goals, we become more and more attuned to that voice. May we each keep running and keep our ears tuned in for that Voice.

Our First Road Trip With Sylvia

After an incredibly action-packed first few days, Jamie, Sylvia, and myself loaded up into the Nuru van for our first road trip! As a result of the generous support of a Nuru donor, we were headed to Washington DC to set up a booth for the 41^st Marine Corps Marathon Expo.

Thanks to some guidance given by one of the nurses at Mon General, we were able to get Sylvia situated pretty quickly in the vehicle. And as we pulled out of the driveway, we quickly made a discovery. It appears Sylvia really enjoys the open road. She rested peacefully as we introduced her to Maryland, Virginia, and Washington DC. (To be fair, she had been to these places before, but this was her first time outside the womb).

As we pulled into the convention center at National Harbor a light rain that had persisted through the day began to lift. Jamie and Sylvia made their way out for a walk, and I began unloading banners, tshirts, and other cool Nuru International signage so we could make our presence known for the first time at the Expo. This year marked our fourth year having a team run for Nuru, and since Nuru’s CEO was a Force Recon Marine, it only made sense to have representation at the Expo.

The setup went fairly quick and we were able to get settled in with some good friends in the area, and we had an incredible team of volunteers join us at the booth including current USNA MIDN, and one of Jake’s old roommates from USNA as well as folks who have been part of Nuru from our earliest efforts!

Sylvia and Jamie came down to do some quality inspection of the booth, and after their approval, I knew we were prepared for the opening of the expo. It is incredible that we get to do so much of this stuff together, and I’m in awe of this young lady’s ability to travel so quickly.

Review: Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance

A couple of times this year, a friend of mine and fellow West Virginia native, Bill Easterly, recommended the book Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and a Culture In Crisis by J.D. Vance as a book I should make every effort to read. Dr. Easterly, J.D., and myself have a common Appalachian heritage and the book’s title definitely had me intrigued. An elegy, according to Google is synonymous with a lament, a requiem, a dirge, or a threnody—those are all words that are not in the common American vernacular—a more wordy definition would be a passionate expression of grief or sorrow or maybe to use a biblical analogy, a jeremiad.

I anticipate the book will gain greater traction in the months ahead as I noticed the author being invited to speak on multiple major news outlets about the recent election and the role that individuals from poorer communities in the Rust Belt and the Bible Belt played in the most recent Presidential election and why these historically Democratic communities have been shifting over the last few decades to a Republican base.

The book is mix of memoir and social commentary. The characters are all comprised of J.D.’s family members and is partially a biography as seen from the eyes of Mr. Vance and researched further through interviews with members of his family. It is partially a narrative of the daunting challenges, frustrations, and traps that people in Appalachia experience as part of their daily existence. It’s also a story of overcoming the odds and how J.D. made it from Middletown, Ohio into the Marines, onward to Ohio State University, and even further onward to Yale Law School.

But it is more than that. It is a first-hand account of Appalachian family values like honor and doing one’s best to care for one’s family and resilience in the face of adversity. It’s also an account of just why so many people feel down and out and how the opioid crisis is wreaking havoc in poor communities in West Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. It’s about feeling out of place as a first generation college student, and feeling even more out of place among the wealthy and elite. It’s about discovering that the ‘normal’ of one’s upbringing seems like a complete anomaly in the world of Ivy League education and the ‘normal’ of that education seems like life on another planet for folks from our common backgrounds.

This quote sums up J.D.’s life experience as well as the lives of many others I know, including myself when I think about how life could have turned out.

I was able to escape the worst of my culture’s inheritance. And uneasy though I am about my new life, I cannot whine about it: The life I lead now was the stuff of fantasy during my childhood. So many people helped create that fantasy. At every level of life and in every environment, I have found family and mentors and lifelong friends who supported and enabled me.

There’s so much I want to say about the book and about J.D.’s thoughts about how to improve things in the heartlands of America, but I’ll simply say that if you grew up in Appalachia I believe you will find many of the stories extremely familiar.  If this wasn’t your family’s direct story, you knew this story. I sit here trying to process it all; I just can’t find the words to articulate all of the ways this book stirred me. The language was direct, accessible, and familiar throughout the book. J.D.’s insecurities, anxieties, and trials were not all directly relatable but they definitely had a strong sense of familiarity for me as I think back on the neighborhood where I grew up—a neighborhood where not many finished high school or even thought about college, and where my graduating class lost 20% of its enrollment between the end of my junior and senior year of high school.

More than anything though, as I read, I found myself filled with a deep gratitude for the fact that both my wife and myself had incredibly supportive nuclear and extended families, neighborhoods, and church communities, that protected us, mentored us, supported and guided us because they wanted us to have a better life and more opportunities than they had. If you grew up in Appalachia you know J.D.’s story well (though probably not as well as this first-hand account), and if you weren’t blessed to be able to grow up here, you might better understand some of the cultural complexities and challenges and triumphs of this part of the world by reading his book. I highly recommend Hillbilly Elegy to anyone, but especially my friends who are also first generation college students from this part of the country.

Sylvia Traveling Home And Extended Family Time

Well it has been a whirlwind since Sylvia’s birth—in fact on the day of her birth, we had some heavy winds and rain and a bout of cold, blustery weather to welcome her to this world (but it has warmed up a bit since then)! In fact, when I went out to grab the car seat so we could be trained on proper use, it was a warm fall day. 

But that took a turn as we were bringing her out, and the winds picked back up again. We had spent the entirety of our time in the hospital in Jamie’s delivery room, and I felt more sensitive than ever to the fragility of this life we were entrusted with, and as I watched leaves blow across the parking lot, I thought about just how scary and wonderful this world is all at the same time.

And after we arrived at home, we began to return to our routine of daily three mile walks through our neighborhood. But again, a whole new world emerged to us as we traveled. Sylvia was taking it all in, but I was thinking about how loud the construction vehicles were near Mountaineer Field, and how much louder still the giant Helicopter was as it landed near Ruby Memorial Hospital. And then the smells—exhaust, garbage, construction—we were becoming attuned to the minor details that have been the background of our routine. Our daughter, gave us heightened senses and deeper of awareness of everything going on around us.

And then we were able to have a few visitors up. Jamie’s parents (Monday) and my dad and sister (Tuesday and Wednesday) made the trip up to greet Miss Sylvia and welcome her into the world. Of course we have had our share of joyful tears with each new day, but there was something really special for me to see Sylvia’s grandparents and her aunt holding her. All of these visitors were special, but my heart melted when my dad held his grand-daughter. He’s such a hard-working and compassionate man, and it made me so encouraged and excited to see him holding her and speaking so softly to her as he welcomed her into the family. 

In addition, it was absolutely wonderful to see Jamie and her mom work together to give Sylvia her first bath. They did an amazing job, and there’s something really endearing about seeing three generations of women together, and watching as the older teaches the younger and gives encouragement along the way. I feel like Jamie’s folks did a really good job with her, so any lessons to be learned, we definitely want to pick up. 

Our world is full of awe as we witness Sylvia’s growth, and we are tremendously thankful for all of the kind notes, encouragement, and gifts we have received from friends and family both near and far. We are filled with gratitude for this new life, and we are additionally grateful for the way so many people we care so much about have rallied around us during this season as well!