Halftime (Halfway) Speech for 2014

It is the halfway mark in the year and some need to hear good job, well played, way to handle your business, great focus during adversity, you executed the plan exactly as it was designed, or you are the real MVP. Others are feeling nothing towards what was, whether it was good or bad, only looking towards the next half of the year. A good portion are still lamenting the battles lost, the missed chances, the poor choices, the looks at new opportunities that we were sure we would have that were either given to or taken by someone else. And we must mention those areas where we gave our all and even reached new heights, but still came up short. The good news is that no matter where we stand in regards to the first six months, as a top performer or burying our faces in disappointment, each of us are still here and we get to choose how we begin the second half.
We owe it to ourselves and each other to prepare for the second half with an expectation to finish strong. Some will argue that setting goals will only lead to further disappointment or create a false sense of pressure. These same folks would likely argue against settling expectations in general, because expectations are another opportunity to be disappointed. This perspective is limiting and rooted in fear. Who travels anywhere in life successfully without a defined destination? And how sad is it to feel like you are the only person that you can count on or trust? Life in general involves risk, and we are going to face what’s around the corner in this second half, so we might as well do so with a positive attitude, expecting great success, and depending on each other to get to the top.
Again, we have been chosen to move forward. As a community we must celebrate those who excelled and encourage those who have not. Every noted contributor in history suffered defeat, but kept getting up and fighting for progress. These same folks recognized that they succeeded as result of the community that surrounded and supported them. Recognize that each of us has a role, and our best contribution is to fulfill our current assignment to the best of our ability. This means that we cannot celebrate any victory, great or small for too long. It also means that our strategy should involve reflection and constant adjustment to our plan, but that we cannot stay in those places too long, either. We must learn how and when to let go of the things, people, or places in our past that both celebrate or that caused hurt. Life is meant to be lived forward.
If we are going to be lifted to a new pinnacle of success at the end of this year, then we must take on every obstacle with a spirit of oneness. We are absolutely responsible for our individual assignments, yet we have to see value in each other’s contributions. We lift as we climb. We either succeed together, or we fall together. Take the necessary time to reflect over the first half in order to honor and learn from those moments. After you have spent time lamenting or celebrating, then convert that energy into fuel for what lies ahead of us as the opponents to our success have not disappeared. Start right now and embrace the conqueror in you and your teammates. We Win! We Win!

Courage

The T Room

Every now and then our own words come back to haunt us (sometimes in a good way.) This week I embarked on a new entrepreneurial adventure. I launched Ask Tracie Jae – a research assistance company. This morning, I found a poem that I wrote in July, 2009.

Courage

I’ve been told,
It’s not what we do
in the absence of fear

That makes us courageous

It’s what we do
When we’re afraid.

Walk a tightrope
With no net

Ask for a job
You shouldn’t get

Swim from the shallow
Into the deep

Give away items
You’d rather keep

Look your enemy
Eye to eye

Smile
Instead of cry

Raise a child
Who’s not your own

Walk away from rent
And build a home

Leave the nest
And learn to fly

Speak the truth
When others lie

Allow someone else’s
Light to shine

Strive to say “ours”
And not just…

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Sunday Morning

²⁴ And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, ²⁵ not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24 – 25 NKJV

Sunday mornings hold reverence in many communities around the World as the time when Christians, followers of Jesus Christ gather to worship.  Over the period of my life these mornings have come to mean different things for me, and I would argue the global Christian body.  These experiences range from reverence of the Trinity to fellowship with other believers.  However, as Holy Scripture directs us our gathering should also include exhortation, a stirring up of love, and inspiration towards good works.  When the latter occurs there certainly should be a congregation that looks forward to gathering and a host of testimonies to share, rather than excuses why Sunday morning worship is no longer relevant.

My grandmother introduced me to Sunday mornings and all other Christian disciplines.  I learned respect for the sanctuary while sitting on her lap during worship services, and the sincerity of Christian disciplines while I lay in her bed as she prayed and read scripture every night.  These are some of my favorite memories.  I watched as she prepared clothes, linens, food, and accessories throughout the week and placed finishing touches on items for Saturday mornings.  I knew before the age of three that Sunday mornings were truly special, but I was too young then to understand why.

After the age of three my father assumed the role of leading my Christian experience.  He too exhibited a great reverence for the sanctuary and sincerity for Sunday morning disciplines as I sat alongside him.  Although I did not witness his day to day disciplines, the skill he holds in leading congregations in singing, devotion, and prayer is evidence enough for his daily practices.  Different than my grandmother, the favorite Sunday experience with my father was the routine of getting to church.  The final inspections of our clothing, the regular stop by the convenience store for Lifesavers candy, and making sure we arrived in time for socializing.  Father added to my Sunday morning dimensions the importance of self examination and making sure that our physical cravings would not distract from the experience.

For awhile during my early adolescent years there was no sanctuary, except bicycle trails, swing sets, a swimming pool, or one of my favorite places, the spot where I beat my friends in games of marbles.  Near the age of eight, a small local church sent a bus to our neighborhood and invited all of the children and their families to attend.  The children were lured with a promise of refreshments and toys, and the promise of these gifts sealed the fate of most of us.  I rode church buses alone without my parents for the next five years to meet with congregations that did not look like me or worship in the ways of my grandmother or father exposed me to.  However, I learned to expect to receive something from the investment of time in worship – I found that it was ok to expect something from our time in community.

As I matured through teenaged and early adulthood years, and began to lead my immediate family to attend Sunday worship the experiences begin to look more like my foundational years.  I gained a sense of guilt and shame from the idea that I was supposed to receive something for attending Sunday services as these expectations were rebuffed.  Not only were my expectations denounced, I was introduced to the concepts of sacrifice and selflessness.  The only gift to be expected was in the privilege of community.  It was hard for me to grasp at a young age that my rewards for discipline would only come in Heaven.  Yet, my love for the worship experiences I had known and the people that I shared with kept me involved.

Thankfully in my adult years I found churches that expounded on the Christian experience through teaching about the Trinity, which introduced me to the Holy Spirit.  Love was explained in a new way where the definition began to include grace and mercy, and justification and salvation.  In my mid 30s, I was alone again, without family; I experienced a real passion for being in worship services.  Gathering with fellow believers as an extended family took on an entire new meaning for me as I gave physically, financially, and spiritually, and came to know the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  It was the purest time for me, or so I thought.

It was not until I accepted a call to ministry and served a local congregation for more than five years that I really begin to feel alone on Sunday mornings.  I asked the question – why do we gather on Sunday mornings?  Is it a command of God to gather and show reverence for a sacred space and practices?  Is it a time of introspection and outer inspection for the purpose of revealing those things that need admonishment or celebration?  Do we learn how to temper our physical and spiritual selves through sacrifice, so that cravings will not corrupt ourselves?  Is Sunday morning the time when we come to hear a Word for renewal, refreshing, re-branding, or re-purposing in order to make it through another week in world?  Are these the moments where we come to see God or see ourselves for who we really are?  As I reflected through my development in worship experiences it seemed that the answer to each of interrogatory was a resounding yes, and more.

On this Sunday morning, I feel as close to a resolution about worship as I have ever attained.  Sunday mornings, and every other moment of our lives is about encountering God.  Therefore our gathering to be exhorted and stirred up should be founded in an expectation that we will know God in those moments, and feel that God knows us too, and that God will reveal to us who we are.

The real question is not should we gather on Sunday mornings, as we certainly should, but rather we need to address how to help those who meet and not receive exhortation, love, or inspiration towards good works?  Should we forsake the assemblies where Jesus Christ is taught, but is not felt?  No.  Even though those meetings result in feelings of emptiness as if a promise was unfulfilled we are still called to exhibit good works, and love, and exhort those places.

I am grateful for the range in my perspective on Sunday mornings.  I am indebted to my grandmother, father, and volunteers from those church buses, and so many others for exposing me to Christian love.  Yet, I am concerned that for far too many others the questions remain unanswered about why we gather on Sunday mornings.  Frankly, these unresolved feelings are the reason why golf courses and car washes, or local restaurants and coffee bars are more frequented than the local church.  Or worse, there are places where worship activity is acted out without an invitation for the Holy Spirit to visit.  Some must feel like I do on certain mornings that I can have a better chance of meeting God in my bed than some of the places that report to worship Jesus Christ.

Thankfully, I still get out of bed and attend worship services with the clearest agenda of meeting God and God’s people.  I smile when I see toddlers on grandmother’s laps, or children sitting with their parents, or groups of teens in congregation, as I know that they too are learning to value Sunday mornings as a communion with God.

Better Than I Planned

There is a common saying about making plans.  The saying goes something like if you want to make God laugh tell Him your plans.  The rationale behind the saying is that none of us should become too attached to our plans, especially if we believe that God has the final say.  Unfortunately, I did not know of God’s intervening ways when I was a senior, graduating from high school, planning the rest of my life.  I vividly remember that my primary plan was to become a husband and a father.

As high school seniors we received a book titled Memories.  The book’s assumed purpose was to record all of high school’s major events.  However, there was also a section to plan out our future.  As I reflect on the experience, the easiest part of completing the book was writing out my desire for my future.  Even as a young man I wanted, more than anything, to be a father and I believed then that I needed to be a husband in order to become one.

As my life developed, it became apparent that my plan would not materialize.  When I finally did become a father after being married for more than half a decade – I almost immediately lost my rights to a relationship with my first born son due to choices that I made.  It was a devastating blow to achieve the goal that I set, and then lose it all in less than a year.

Fortunately God has more than a sense of humor; God offers us His grace.  Grace is what I received with the birth of my second son.  The circumstances were far different than the first pregnancy and so has been the outcome.  My first experience was completed as planned – I started my career; matured physically, mentally and spiritually; got married; purchased a home; and built a well-rounded network of friend and associates.  This foundation seemed ripe for a child to enter the union.  I have already mentioned how that worked out in the end.

Shortly after my divorce God’s plan kicked in regarding my desire for fatherhood.  I was on a steep economic decline and headed towards unemployment.  My mental, physical and spiritual conditioning had deteriorated to fragments.  I was single and alone, fighting for the affection of a woman that I began a relationship during my separation.  And I lost my home, friends and associates in the divorce.  These were far from ripe conditions in my mind, but God chose to give me a second chance in the midst of it all.

By the time my son was born I had lost it all.  The additional pressure of having responsibility for two sons was enough to send me over the edge.  Many days and nights I wished and prayed for death, and then I got up and fought for my life.  It was my two sons, born in completely different circumstances, which help me pulled through the storm.  Without my sons I surely would have succumbed to the lifeless desires and withered away.

In particular, I am grateful for a second chance in fatherhood.  My youngest son continues to inspire me in countless ways.  The one resource that we share plenty of is time.  He rewards our time together through being a real delight to be with.  And if God’s humorous actions were not enough – He allowed me to have four daughters.  Three of my girls are through my second marriage, and my oldest allowed me to adopt her as my own.

I still plan – for my life and my family.  But I have learned to let go of the reigns and accept whatever God provides.  In the end, we must realize that God executes far better than we can plan.

You Didn’t Have to Do It

What type of man marries a woman that already has children, and immediately takes full responsibility for those children as if they were his own?  I mean let’s consider the circumstances.  Women clearly out-number men, which mean most men have options from which to choose.  And if a man has any attractive quality, such as being handsome, athletic, financially stable, and spiritually grounded, then his options increase exponentially.  So, why take on a woman and her children, share your hard gained resource, and potentially dilute the resources you have available for your own children?  Why do all of these things when you clearly do not have to?  Despite the motivation, I am certainly glad that the man that reared me decided to do so – even though he didn’t have to do it.

Could it be as simple as love?  Is love a strong enough emotion to draw an eligible bachelor into a ready-made family?  How about the option of stepping into a parental role and skipping the messy infant stages?   So many men in this situation do exactly that – step in when the child is still an infant.  Is there a financial gain or physical advantage to earning the commitment of a lady that has already given birth?  None of these or any other assumptions appear to justify the decision. And they certain did not apply in my father’s case.

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that the man just happened to fall for the woman, and her kids were a nonfactor.  In my opinion, this is a dangerous position.  A mother of any worth will not isolate her value within the total package that includes her children.  Even if the man found out about the children after he was head over heels for the woman, and he could not deny his passion, the woman is sure to make it clear that we are an indivisible unit.  At least that is the romantic version.  In reality, quite often parents abandon their commitment in exchange for love and affection from a mate.  So glad that my mother did not, nor did my father ask her too.

We know it is not the case for all parents to abandon their children for love.  And certainly some men, and women, accept partners that have children from previous relationships.  I know this first hand, because you, my father, didn’t have to marry my mother, knowing that she had two young children, but you did.  It is because of your selfless example that I felt very comfortable embracing my call to marry a woman with three teen-aged daughters.

It appears to me that the answer to the original inquisition is that one must be embracing a calling.  Accepting a woman with her children is answering a call to be a father, a mentor, and a friend.  You didn’t have to do it, but you did.  And though it was an uphill battle, with many sacrifices, you never gave up the fight.  You – are the model of persevering love that I embrace when my parenting moments get tough.  I am grateful for all that I learned through your example, even more now as I walk in your footsteps.  Thank you for accepting, loving and leading me.  For me it no longer matters why you did what you did, I am just thankful that you did.

I’m That Baby’s Pappy

There are times when I am reading a book or watching a film where I take a scene to a place that may not have been intended by the writer.  One example is a scene from the comedic film Life, starring Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence.  If you have ever seen the film, then the title of this piece should have immediately brought you to that hilarious scene.  For those of you that have not seen the movie, go find and watch the movie.

Since we cannot wait for you to watch the movie then return to this piece, let me set it up for you.  The movie is set in the Prohibition Era.  The main characters are prisoners on an all black prison plantation in the south.  The prison is run by an all white staff and the warden lives on the property with his family.  Well, the warden’s pride and joy is his daughter and she becomes pregnant. When the baby is delivered the family discovers, well, a darker than expected hue.

The surprise of a mixed race grandchild infuriates the warden and he wants justice.  Prisoners are lined up and the infant is marched down the line and held up next to each inmate to detect a resemblance to no avail.  After brief rant, the warden asks the group “who is this baby’s pappy?”  The men know that the perpetrator will be punished with death, and in this case the guilty party is the star athlete on the prison’s baseball team.  To protect this fellow the inmates come forward and proclaim “I’m that baby’s pappy.”  After the response turn into a chorus the warden abandoned his efforts.

The scene is quite funny and sad all at the same time.  These men were willing to risk their lives and bare responsibility for a child they did not father in order to save their friend, and quietly possibly that child.  Imagine if that same spirit of sacrifice prevailed today.  How can we inspire men today to step up and proclaim I’m that baby’s pappy for children that have been abandoned by their biological fathers?  Are our children not worth our sacrifice?  Are we no longer our brother’s keeper?  These fatherless children and our vanished brothers both need our help.

My attempts to ‘step’ up and serve as a child’s father have taken various forms.  I served as mentor, court appointed guardian ad litem, counselor, taxi and chauffeur, bails bondsmen, and financial supporter for many children of all ages.  One in particular has accepted me as her father and her presence in my life brings a Rae of light and great joy to my entire family.  When I tell people about my family I always include her as my oldest child and she introduces me to her family and friends as her dad.  I am just as proud to be her father as I am all of my other children.  The moment that God nudged me to step up and say, “I’m that baby’s pappy” was one that I will never regret, despite the responsibility.  The sacrifices taken for all of these babies, my life, time, emotions, and other resources are well worth the love that I receive from each of them, including that beautiful baby girl.

You Ain’t My Daddy

It was the first time the girls visited my home.  Three girls ages 10, 12 and 14.  Their mother brought them to my house to get better acquainted with the man that she had been dating and planned to marry.  I’d prayed for a bride that had daughters that I could one day call my own to compliment the two sons that I had.  The two younger girls walked into my home and made themselves comfortable in my quaint living room.  Their sister on the other hand begin her campaign of resistance right in the door way.

The way this neophyte teenager stood in resistance in my doorway barely leaving enough room for the door to be closed would have been enough to dissuade a less determined soul.  But my mind and heart was settled on marrying their mother and becoming a father figure to these three little girls.  I made two mistakes in arriving at my position.  The first involved ignoring the fact that these three little girls had minds and hearts of their owned that stood independent of their mother’s interest.  And, I obviously forgot how I felt at 6 years old when it was announced to me that my own mother was remarrying.

The opposition I met that night should have triggered childhood memories and emotions from the experiences I shared with my younger sister.  Frankly, it took me fourteen years to fully embrace my mother’s husband as my dad.   I could have used those recollections in that moment.

Not remembering my own experience was only my first mistake.  Even before the wedding I began to assert my way of life – good and bad – on The Resisters.  All of our efforts to acclimate the girls to the decision seem to build resentment.  My emotional, physical and spiritual investment went bankrupt after the wedding when I heard the dreaded words, “you ain’t my daddy.”  My pitiful unexpressed response was, “you eat my food, ride in my car, and live under my roof!”  But in truth, I was not their daddy, and I was acting like anything but a father figure.

From my own experiences, I knew that the role of father must be earned with consistency, endurance, patience, and sacrifice.  My mere words and a year or so of work was nothing in the grand scheme.  I finally began to review my own journey towards embracing my mother’s husband and attempted to see life from my girls’ perspective.  It was hard for me to let go of my ideas for their life and my own, but I knew the course I was on would lead to the end of any relationship with them or my wife.

It has been over seven years now, and I am still not their daddy.  But, we are still a family and have made tremendous strides in our relationships.  I knew the tides had changed when the leader of champagne de la resistance purchased a t-shirt for me on Father’s Day several years ago.  That same year my wife wrote a poem titled Hand in My Greatness, and had each of our five children sign it with a hand print.

The gifts were signs that my prayers were being answered.  I had no desire to replace their dad, yet, I wanted to have a meaningful relationship with these girls that would lead to their acceptance of me as a father figure.  The goal has not quite been accomplished, but I am still very happy to call them my daughters.

Open Letter to My Daddy

The T Room

Daddy,

I sat down to write this letter as a public declaration of my private appreciation. The words ‘thank you’ seem inadequate for a person who has always been in my corner and never managed to fail me. Certainly, as an adult, through adult eyes, I see you as fallible (as all of us are). However, you remain one of the best people I’ve ever met.

Thank you for seeing me as special and even, some days, extraordinary – and making me believe those things were true. Thank you for cooking and chauffeuring, and for agreeing to always pick me up from anywhere – without the mandate to discuss in that moment how big an ass I’d made of myself.

Thank you for not asking me questions that already had answers and for hearing my heartbreak through my silence. Thank you for being intimidating without being mean. And for being…

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Son to Father

The conversation was too late.  My father called to give me his advice against divorcing my wife, who had recently bore our first child.  But, the decision had already been made in my mind and heart.  For a very brief moment I thought, you did the same thing and now you want to warn me.  The pain I felt from being a son would not allow me to receive warning of the pain I would feel as a father.

There are many things that I wished I known as a child.  I often wondered what I could have done better, or different, to maintain a relationship with my father.  There were times when I daydreamed about how my life would have been different with my father’s daily involvement.  My mind grappled with how my biological father felt about another man having daily access and influence over my development, even if the other man is a very good man.  When I learned that my father, too, was abandoned, I could not help but wonder if his absentee father had some type of affect on him.

The hours and miles of distance between our physical stations never stopped the mental and emotional connection that I shared with my father, nor did they stop the hurt or disappointment from the unspoken expectations that I placed on the relationship that never materialized.  My father could have never known how much I loved and adored him, or the countless moments of resentment that built with each holiday and birthday.

I can only imagine the things my father wished for during this period.  He may have wished that the miles and hours between us never existed.  Or, that his personal resources afforded him the opportunity to bridge the long stride more frequently.  I wonder if there were holidays, birthdays, and sporting events where he, too, wanted to be present.  All of these I can imagine vividly – because I did not heed my father’s advice.

The son is now the father that is stressed by the distance of miles and hours from his son.  I now know what it feels like to be separated physically and seemingly emotionally from your first born child and son.  Now my wonderings about how my father felt has shifted to what things my son wishes he knew.  Does he know that I still love him with every ounce of me?  Does he know that it hurts to even think of how I have let him down, especially on holidays, his birthday, and every one of his games?  And even though he has a very good man in his life on a daily basis, and I support this man fully, how I still wish that it was me that he called Dad?  I wonder if when the time comes that he too will need advice about his spouse and children – if he will turn a deaf ear to me – as I did to my father?  I fear that my prayers and fasting will not be enough to break this curse.

Knowing better means doing better.  So, I began by accepting every opportunity my father offered to be in my life.  I have been blessed to have two men that love me enough to consider me their son.  But, there is nothing like having my father in my life at this stage and knowing that he has loved me all along.  I also fight the urge to give up on a ‘right now’ relationship with my son.  He has a great home environment, and a man that loves him dearly in that home.  Unselfishly, I do not want to add to his confusion.  However, it would be selfish if I allowed his imagination to hang in an empty balance wondering where I stood in regards to him.  I am my father’s first born son, and I know that he is proud of the man I have become.  I want my son to be proud of me too – and that requires me giving him every chance to know me, especially as a father that once was the son he is now.

A Lamplighter

The FedEX envelope that I received a few days ago literally made me freeze in my tracts.  I said only to myself, “well this is it Lord.”  The contents of the package from our mortgage lender were assumed to be legal notice that the home would be posted for foreclosure.  It was a reasonable assumption given that our mortgage was 351 days behind.  However, God had a different outcome planned for us – not only will we keep our home, but the terms are now more favorable than we could have ever imagined.

I praised God.  We praised God together as husband and wife.  And my plan was to quietly move on with life and the other obstacles life will bring.  Yet I heard God ask me, “will you place your light under a bushel?”  I knew immediately why God was asking me this question.  In my stubbornness I replied, “no one knew of our battle, so no one needs to know now.”  I did not feel so well after that response.

We, my wife and I, have accepted the calling to be lamplighters.  This means two very important things. We must do whatever it takes to keep our lamps lit and the darker the circumstances, the harder we must fight.  Therefore, silent celebrations are not generally afforded to us as an option.  I know this fact well.

Second, we must seek out un-kindled lamps that are waiting for fire even if they do not recognize the need, and light them with our fire.  We accepted long ago that the fire we have is not only for us.  So, we intentionally seek others to share our light.

It means we answer the phone or text messages when people ask for prayer, a visit in the hospital, or to go see about their child in jail.  It means that when we purchased our vehicles we knew that they would have to be shared for pickups and drop-offs, and the occasional moves.  There have been times when we have said no, but even then we considered it as a form of encouraging someone towards accountability, or at the very least, helping them set boundaries.

We give from the fruit of our labor in tithes and offering, too.  There are numerous acts of charity and service that we engage throughout the year.  The very best part is that we involve our entire family, including our children, our friends, and social networks.  We seldom pass on an official or unofficial opportunity to serve others.  It is against our character to share anymore details, as much as I would love to.  The rare exception is when we choose to share for the benefit of ministering others.

An example of how we serve that can presently be used to encourage someone is our journey to keep our home from being foreclosed.  When we purchased our home nearly four years ago – it was known to us that our home must burn as a lamp on a hill.  This part has not always been easy.  I wanted at times for our home to be a haven, safe place, and respite away from our obligations.  Yet, we lodge weary travelers and stranded friends and family, feed dozens, and mentor teenagers and young adults.  We counsel couples and lead Bible studies in our home.  And we do so without adequate furnishings.

The last two and a half years have been a process of God ‘finishing our faith.’  We have met constant financial struggle the entire time.  Through our human reasoning, we attempted to cut back on our acts of service, donating goods, sharing space and even tithes and offering.  The more we conserved for the sake of making our ends meet, the converse happened.  In the times when we said ‘no,’ we can set markers where we lost the most.

We finally decided about six months ago to give despite our circumstances.  We decided to give, even if it meant borrowing from other people and places to do so.  And the results have become our testimony.  We have saved our vehicles.  Received increase in our careers.  We have expanded God’s ministry to a whole new audience.

We share our story because we cannot keep the victory to ourselves. We fully expect that you will be encouraged by our journey so far.  If God is finishing your faith, do not resist.  Allow God’s promises to manifest in your life.  No matter the size of your victory – today – raise your light high.  Take your lamp from under the bushel, receive the light that God has for you, and let it burn brightly for God’s glory.