Some (or many) readers of this blog may not follow American Football at all. While this post will tell the story of one particular player, its really about much larger points. So even if you don't follow what happens on the gridiron, hang in there, and read on!
Andrew Luck played football for Stanford University. Besides being an extremely talented player, he was a was revered as a leader. Putting it into context, Stanford is already chock full of extremely smart people who will become future leaders, and Andrew was a leader for them. Luck could have entered into pro football in 2010 but chose to stay with his teammates for one more season, and to earn his degree in architecture.
In 2011, Luck became the #1 player picked in the draft by the Indianapolis Colts. His career would be very successful as he would lead the team to multiple playoff appearances, and set many Colts, and NFL records along the way. The last few years he would suffer some injuries which became difficult for him. Suddenly, in 2019 he would decide to retire.
What's unfortunate is that the news of his retirement broke while he was on the sidelines watching his Colts play in a preseason game. He was still nursing a calf strain and was not in uniform. The fans began to get word via the internet that he had decided earlier that day to call it quits.
Then...the unthinkable happened. The fans, HIS fans, booed him as he left the field. A man who had served them so faithfully and been such an example of leadership and class was BOOED off the field. And for what? Maybe he was the quarterback for their fantasy football team? Perhaps they were worried about how it would effect their Super Bowl chances?
Andrew Luck is by all accounts an amazing leader. He was known to recommend books to his teammates because he wanted them to enjoy his passion for reading. He turned down being #1 in the 2010 draft so he could finish his commitment to his education and his teammates. He was known to compliment the defensive payers who would pummel him on their good play. He married his long time girlfriend and they are expecting their first child. And THIS is who they selfishly booed off of the field.
Andrew simply stated that he didn't feel it deep in his heart anymore. He couldn't justify the physical demands, the injuries, and the risk of permanent disability (especially head trauma) anymore. He wants to explore other interests in his life. He wants to be healthy enough to enjoy his wife and new child. One writer quipped that this makes him the typical millennial, wanting the glory without putting in the work. That writer had never played the game, never had the accomplishments, and likely never did anything more strenuous than carry a pack of paper to his desk.
There is a bright lesson to be taken from this story, and a dark one. The dark lesson is that all those supporters immediately turned their back on his because they could only think about their own narrative. As long as he was winning games and willing to donate his pound of flesh, they loved him. But the minute he made a decision for himself, those pats on the back turned to stabs. Now they sit around and cry foul about what horrors he has suddenly brought to them. As though the Indianapolis Colts somehow holds the fate of the free world in its hands.
The bright lesson is that Andrew Luck had the courage to be the master of his own destiny. He knew that many people depended on him on the field, and yet he chose to follow his heart and do what was right for him and his young family. Make no mistake about it, he left fame and fortune behind and was willing to leave tens-of-millions-of-dollars on the table while doing it. But as he probably did in all of those math classes he aced at Stanford, he weighed all sides of the equation. He calculated each factor, and he knew what he needed.
My friends, our decisions will always be up for debate by others who do not live our lives. Perhaps the majority of those around us have only the capacity to see what it means for their own agenda. But when those boos stop (and they will stop), you need only to answer to your own heart. And if you can look yourself in the mirror and know that you were led by your heart and that you did what you felt was right - you will not lose.
Be well and God bless. Tom
Monday, August 26, 2019
Friday, August 23, 2019
What If?
What if autistic children were sent onto this earth as angels, and those angels were sent to see how others would treat them? What if those children were meant to someday inherit the earth and the heavens, and the rest of us would be judged by how we treated them? What if we are protected as we protected them, respected as we respected them, and loved as we loved them?
What if the poor were sent onto this earth as angels, and those angels were sent to see how others would treat them? What if the poor were meant to someday inherit the earth and the heavens, and the rest of us would be judged by how we treated them? What if we are treated with kindness and generosity as we treated them in kind?
What if pain and struggle was a gift from God, and that gift was sent to see how others would respond? What if those in the greatest pain were meant to someday inherit the earth and the heavens, and the rest of us would be judged by how we responded? What if we are comforted and cared for as we did for others on earth?
The angels are already here. The gifts are already at our feet. Those gifts have nothing to do with gold or money, but rather our capacity to love one another and care for those who need us the most. For it will be those people who will inherit the riches forever.
Be well and God bless. Tom
What if the poor were sent onto this earth as angels, and those angels were sent to see how others would treat them? What if the poor were meant to someday inherit the earth and the heavens, and the rest of us would be judged by how we treated them? What if we are treated with kindness and generosity as we treated them in kind?
What if pain and struggle was a gift from God, and that gift was sent to see how others would respond? What if those in the greatest pain were meant to someday inherit the earth and the heavens, and the rest of us would be judged by how we responded? What if we are comforted and cared for as we did for others on earth?
The angels are already here. The gifts are already at our feet. Those gifts have nothing to do with gold or money, but rather our capacity to love one another and care for those who need us the most. For it will be those people who will inherit the riches forever.
Be well and God bless. Tom
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Netflix Documentary
I will admit it....I am a sucker for a good documentary. Netflix, I find, typically has some good ones. What I look for are human interest stories. Last night I watched a good one that explores the layers of mental illness through the eyes of someone suffering from severe bi-polar disorder. It's called "God Knows I'm Here".
Without giving too much away, the true story examines the last weeks and months of it's subject Linda. Linda has a similar story as many Americans with mental illness in that she begins to display erratic behavior and then has a love/hate relationship with medications and the friends and family trying desperately to help her. In their own words these friends and family members describe the girl they knew, and the woman they saw toward the end that they barely recognized. Her daughter described her as both "Mom" and "Linda". Mom was rational and loving while controlled by medications, and "Linda" was paranoid and irrational when she was not.
The documentary also briefly touches on the facility and doctors that tried to help her but eventually had little choice but to release her, without even the knowledge of the family. This dynamic calls to question a person's right to have choices about their own care even when they are seemingly incapable of making good ones. A doctor describes these individuals as "drowning in their own rights".
What makes this documentary truly fascinating however, is that she creates a journal to describe her own decline and pending death. In the fall of 2008 she finds herself living in an abandoned farmhouse, eating only apples from an apple tree and drinking water from the creek running on the property. Its heartbreaking to hear her write that she is waiting to be rescued, as though she is trapped, when there is a house directly across the road. She intentionally hides to not be seen and yet is awaiting rescue. You begin to realize that the rescue she wants is from her own mind. Amidst paranoia, a relationship with a purely fantasized husband, and her be comforted by the solitude, she cannot truly figure out her situation.
While there isn't much to correlate directly to Tyler, it is a fascinating study in mental health. There are so many layers to mental health issues, and this certainly captures many of those. By looking at the role the family played, the role she herself played, the institution, the current patient rights, etc. it provokes interesting discussion.
Give it a look and let me know what you think!
Be well and God bless.
Tom
Without giving too much away, the true story examines the last weeks and months of it's subject Linda. Linda has a similar story as many Americans with mental illness in that she begins to display erratic behavior and then has a love/hate relationship with medications and the friends and family trying desperately to help her. In their own words these friends and family members describe the girl they knew, and the woman they saw toward the end that they barely recognized. Her daughter described her as both "Mom" and "Linda". Mom was rational and loving while controlled by medications, and "Linda" was paranoid and irrational when she was not.
The documentary also briefly touches on the facility and doctors that tried to help her but eventually had little choice but to release her, without even the knowledge of the family. This dynamic calls to question a person's right to have choices about their own care even when they are seemingly incapable of making good ones. A doctor describes these individuals as "drowning in their own rights".
What makes this documentary truly fascinating however, is that she creates a journal to describe her own decline and pending death. In the fall of 2008 she finds herself living in an abandoned farmhouse, eating only apples from an apple tree and drinking water from the creek running on the property. Its heartbreaking to hear her write that she is waiting to be rescued, as though she is trapped, when there is a house directly across the road. She intentionally hides to not be seen and yet is awaiting rescue. You begin to realize that the rescue she wants is from her own mind. Amidst paranoia, a relationship with a purely fantasized husband, and her be comforted by the solitude, she cannot truly figure out her situation.
While there isn't much to correlate directly to Tyler, it is a fascinating study in mental health. There are so many layers to mental health issues, and this certainly captures many of those. By looking at the role the family played, the role she herself played, the institution, the current patient rights, etc. it provokes interesting discussion.
Give it a look and let me know what you think!
Be well and God bless.
Tom
Monday, August 19, 2019
Feedback from a Friend
Good Morning,
I realized this morning that a friend of mine, amazing artist, incredible human, and so-so author (I kid you my friend) Tom left feedback on the post "Deeper in the Woods" and I had yet to fully read it. It was a little voice in my head that reminded me that I needed to read his thoughts. Tom inspires me through his art and written word, but so much more by his gentle belief that only through care and love can we reach our true happy place.
What I read humbled me right down to my socks. The beautiful thing about our friendship is that we have often known what each other needed to hear without even knowing whats going on. It's like a 6th sense. His entire feedback is publish beneath the "Deeper in the Woods" entry, but I wanted to share a small piece of it:
What can I say, Tom...my God, these are challenging times for you! I don't really know what to say except that your words here - so powerfully authentic, even gut-wrenching, (because they are so real, human and love inspired) are helpful and healing to all who read them. Not even so much because of what you are sharing...as much as the fact that you want and need to share your deepest, most challenging, real life (in one way or another common to all of us) experiences at this time. The love reflected in your words is so obviously, and again - inspirationally rooted in your heart.
I realized this morning that a friend of mine, amazing artist, incredible human, and so-so author (I kid you my friend) Tom left feedback on the post "Deeper in the Woods" and I had yet to fully read it. It was a little voice in my head that reminded me that I needed to read his thoughts. Tom inspires me through his art and written word, but so much more by his gentle belief that only through care and love can we reach our true happy place.
What I read humbled me right down to my socks. The beautiful thing about our friendship is that we have often known what each other needed to hear without even knowing whats going on. It's like a 6th sense. His entire feedback is publish beneath the "Deeper in the Woods" entry, but I wanted to share a small piece of it:
What can I say, Tom...my God, these are challenging times for you! I don't really know what to say except that your words here - so powerfully authentic, even gut-wrenching, (because they are so real, human and love inspired) are helpful and healing to all who read them. Not even so much because of what you are sharing...as much as the fact that you want and need to share your deepest, most challenging, real life (in one way or another common to all of us) experiences at this time. The love reflected in your words is so obviously, and again - inspirationally rooted in your heart.
Those words reminded me of why I started this blog in the first place. There are people, so many people, who are living as caregivers to children, siblings, parents, who are screaming my thoughts and words in their heads but cannot find the way to let them out. Afraid to allow their most desperate, hopeful, or dark thoughts to see the light of day because of how others may react. Or worse yet, upon hearing their own words, to have to come to grips with what they have said.
Writing from the most raw and unfiltered of places has its own risks. Words typed through layers of emotion are not agreeable to everyone who may not understand those emotions. Those who have never walked this journey may not grasp how a person might respond to things that happen around them. But if I'm really, really lucky, someone will see a post and that will be the message that they needed to read at that moment of their life.
On Sunday, Pastor John said something that resonated very strongly with me. He said that when feeling grief it is necessary to allow yourself to really feel the emotions and express them as a means to process them and understand them. If you have read my blog for any length of time you have heard those words come from me as well. Our emotions and ability to express them is a true gift. That gift isn't reserved for only thoughts of daisies and puppies (although I like puppies a lot) but for thoughts of desperation, frustration, and pain. These thoughts are also gifts that teach us things about ourselves and the world around us.
I want to thank Tom for reminding me that life around us is hard, and sometimes downright impossible, but being true to one's authentic self is where we find the light to continue on.
Be well and God bless. Tom
Sunday, August 18, 2019
A Favorite Tyler Memory
Just the other day Samantha looked at Tyler's graduation picture and asked me about it. It brought back a wonderful memory that I hadn't shared for a while. It's a story worth repeating....
When Tyler turned 21 he legally fulfilled his obligation to school and was able to graduate. We were approached about how we would like him to receive his diploma. Because he lived in Northeastern school district, and we paid the school taxes to them, he would receive their diploma, even though he didn't attend school there. In reality, he attended his later school years at West York Middle School because that is where a suitable multi-disabilities class was housed. To muddy the story a bit, he was actually under the guidance of a district called Lincoln Intermediate which housed classrooms within other districts. So to recap...he was a student of Lincoln Intermediate, living in Northeastern, attending school in West York. Need a scorecard yet?
He could graduate with the senior class at Northeastern....but he didn't know anyone there and they didn't know them. He could graduate with a group from Licoln Intermediate, but again he didn't know them. He could even graduate with the senior class of West York but again, same issue. And I realized that the middle school was his home. He was loved there. The kids knew him there. The faculty knew him there. He was respected and taken care of there. So I requested that he graduate THERE. The school decided that at the end of the year, during an awards assembly, he would walk the stage and receive his diploma. I requested permission to give a speech on his behalf, which they gladly obliged.
On graduation day his teacher stepped to the podium and began to speak. She had loved him and taken care of him for 13 years and all of that seemed to come to the surface. She wanted to make a speech, but instead she cried. Those emotions spoke clearer and louder than any words would have done justice. Dedication, love, encouragement, challenges, and triumph all flowed from her. Miss Sue was and always will be his school Mom.
It was my turn. I had written a speech and practiced it. When I began to read the speech it didn't take long before my thoughts left it. I was just going to say it from the heart. I thanked everyone for the love and respect they surrounded him with. It was every person in that room who lifted him up and carried him onto that stage. They all walked with him to receive that honor in one way or another. They played basketball with him, high-fived him in the halls, cheered him, and protected him. I was as proud of them as I was of him.
Tyler then walked the stage to receive his diploma. What happened next was pure magic that I will take with me to eternity. Every person in the auditorium gave him a standing ovation. They cheered him and clapped for him. His perseverance moved them to tears and cheers. For a moment time seemed to stand still as the love rained down on him. It still gives me chills to close my eyes and remember that day.
This is a memory I visit sometimes when I want to remember the tremendous love that has so often surrounded him. And it's a story that I can share with Sam to let her know the world can be a compassionate place if you look in the right places.
Be well and God bless. Tom
When Tyler turned 21 he legally fulfilled his obligation to school and was able to graduate. We were approached about how we would like him to receive his diploma. Because he lived in Northeastern school district, and we paid the school taxes to them, he would receive their diploma, even though he didn't attend school there. In reality, he attended his later school years at West York Middle School because that is where a suitable multi-disabilities class was housed. To muddy the story a bit, he was actually under the guidance of a district called Lincoln Intermediate which housed classrooms within other districts. So to recap...he was a student of Lincoln Intermediate, living in Northeastern, attending school in West York. Need a scorecard yet?
He could graduate with the senior class at Northeastern....but he didn't know anyone there and they didn't know them. He could graduate with a group from Licoln Intermediate, but again he didn't know them. He could even graduate with the senior class of West York but again, same issue. And I realized that the middle school was his home. He was loved there. The kids knew him there. The faculty knew him there. He was respected and taken care of there. So I requested that he graduate THERE. The school decided that at the end of the year, during an awards assembly, he would walk the stage and receive his diploma. I requested permission to give a speech on his behalf, which they gladly obliged.
On graduation day his teacher stepped to the podium and began to speak. She had loved him and taken care of him for 13 years and all of that seemed to come to the surface. She wanted to make a speech, but instead she cried. Those emotions spoke clearer and louder than any words would have done justice. Dedication, love, encouragement, challenges, and triumph all flowed from her. Miss Sue was and always will be his school Mom.
It was my turn. I had written a speech and practiced it. When I began to read the speech it didn't take long before my thoughts left it. I was just going to say it from the heart. I thanked everyone for the love and respect they surrounded him with. It was every person in that room who lifted him up and carried him onto that stage. They all walked with him to receive that honor in one way or another. They played basketball with him, high-fived him in the halls, cheered him, and protected him. I was as proud of them as I was of him.
Tyler then walked the stage to receive his diploma. What happened next was pure magic that I will take with me to eternity. Every person in the auditorium gave him a standing ovation. They cheered him and clapped for him. His perseverance moved them to tears and cheers. For a moment time seemed to stand still as the love rained down on him. It still gives me chills to close my eyes and remember that day.
This is a memory I visit sometimes when I want to remember the tremendous love that has so often surrounded him. And it's a story that I can share with Sam to let her know the world can be a compassionate place if you look in the right places.
Be well and God bless. Tom
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