Hook Em, Bobby!

This is one of my dad's dearest friends, Bobby, wearing one of my dads favorite shirts. (Dad wore that shirt waaaaay too much.) 

It is hard for me to find the words to adequately express how such a simple thing means to me, just a happy man in a Hawaiian shirt.

There are days that I feel defeated, as if no matter how hard I may try, our family and this life is just not as fun as it would have been if Dad were here. I know that may sound dramatic, or overly pessimistic, but it is at times how I feel. Before Dads death, our family still had arguments and dealt with hard things, but light hearted happiness came easier than it does now. It’s as if, years later, the air is still thick with missing him. We carry on, but we carry a heavy weight of missing him, too.  

A funny grandfather was playing with his three year old grandson at our neighborhood pool recently, and he quickly included Thomas in their water gun game. Thomas thought the man was so.much.fun. I longed for my dad so much in that moment. My stomach hurts just thinking back to it. I had tears at the pool that I couldn’t keep back, though thankfully got them under control in a flash. 

I’ve said it before: I know we have so much for which to be thankful. We are blessed beyond measure that Dad was so worthy of being dearly missed. I know some parents go quietly into the night. And even though it seems short, we are blessed with the years we had. I think of John and William, or friends’ who’s spouses didn’t meet their parents who are now gone, and I know I have no room to complain or feel entitled to more time. I watched a news story recently about a young man who’s dad died serving in our military when the boy was not yet born. Loss such as that I truly cannot fathom. 

And, I know some parents leave behind grown children who are not nearly as cared for or loved on as Gentry and I have been. Our community of friends and family is really something else. 

After Jay Chenoweth passed away, my dad talked about jaybird a lot. He told me how much he missed calling him with work questions, how often he thought of him. He told us that he was going to say his name any chance he had, especially around Jay’s boys. I remember him saying, “I don’t care if it makes some people uncomfortable, we are going to talk about Jay. I am going to say his name whenever I think of him.” 

They say that one of the sweetest sounds to someone is the sound of their own name. I think for someone grieving, even sweeter than their own name is the name of the one they’ve lost. I am immensely grateful for my dads friends who still talk about him, mention him without fear of it being awkward. You know what’s awkward? Acting like we’ve all forgotten who Dad was, or as if he’s away on business. 

My dad’s friends have been shoulder to shoulder with us in our grief. 

I don’t know that I need to explain this photo much, Bobby texting it to us says it all. Thank you for loving us so well, and missing Dad with us, Martins! 

A few people have asked my mom how to support people who are up to their chin in grief, treading just enough to breathe but not able to do much else. She says often, “just show up.” You don’t have to know the right things to say, you don’t have to bring a casserole if cooking is not your thing - just show up. 

Real life people like Bobby (and Lynne, and others) remind me that faith in God is much more than your church attendance chart or a list of good deeds. It makes me sad how many people think their faith is too small or that they have too many doubts. I spent a lot of time thinking my faith was pretty inadequate or insincere, and then all hell broke lose, and God has never felt more real or near or evident, even as I shook my fists at him. 

If you think you don’t know God, if you think you are of little faith- think of times when you have been inexplicably loved. 

You don’t have to have all the answers or understand every single thing- I love how God shows up through other real-life, in the flesh, people. The hands and feet of Christ. 

Don’t let a lack of theology make you feel inadequate. Let good friends in Hawaiian shirts remind you that the Lord is never far. But you may have to go halfway. You may have to look for Him. 

Some men will tell you that the sky sets burnt orange because Austin is, in fact, God’s country. I think that is still up for debate, but either way... Hook em, Bobby! 

well, this one's awkward.

I have never posted about weight or body image on social media. And then I had children. And I have a body that seems unfamiliar in the mirror - even for me, a girl who has felt chubby almost her entire life. 

When I write and share it publicly, it’s usually because the topic is burning on my heart, and until I get my thoughts on paper, I can’t shake it. About a week ago, I went wake surfing on our friend Mary's boat, and I cannot get over how much it made an impact on Thomas. He keeps talking about it out of the blue! 

Thomas was in the bathtub yesterday and we were talking about all kinds of random things. One minute he’s talking about firehoses and the next he looks straight at me and says, "Mommy, remember when you got behind Mary’s boat and you went swimming? And then you came back to me?" He was anxious for me to get back in the boat to sit next to him, but he was also impressed with my surfing. It was a beautiful day, and it was hot, so getting in the water sounded fun. That's all there was to it. I remember saying, "shoot, I should have worn my skirted swimsuit!" right before I jumped in. But I took off my cover up anyways, and I did the damn thing. 

I don’t write about my struggles with being overweight much because I don’t really want to draw attention to it. I definitely don't want to be pitied. I don’t want Drew - or Drew’s friends, or anyone for that matter- to notice I need to drop some pounds. But hello. They have eyes. They don’t need me writing about it to notice. 

Sometimes I want to wear a sticker on my shirt that says “Ive done five half marathons.” Sometimes I am tempted to “brag” to people how much I currently work out. I do cardio, I walk miles with that giant double stroller - like 24+ miles a week. I do weights. I’ve been to 12 spin classes in the last month. 

I don’t think people really care - about any of it. And that’s great. It’s me that cares BY FAR the most. Yes, I want to be healthy, and I want to be active for my boys, but I don’t need to be a certain dress size for anyone in my life that matters. 

Thomas loving me and thinking I’m fun regardless of the tag on my swimsuit has been HUGE for me. Huge... ha. Ironic because that’s exactly how I feel, everyday. My weight loss journey post-Harris is a slow one. Like a sloth. We're still figuring out my thyroid meds post-partum, I'm doing bloodwork every 12 weeks, and it doesn’t mean that I’ll be at this point forever or look like this next summer. 

While we need to be healthy for our children, we need to be far less insecure. We need to model confidence. We need to model grace. We need to model knock-your-socks-off fun. A woman recently shopping at our studio (renovate) was complaining  about her arms. Her arms looked killer to me! Flawless. But not according to her. We all want to change physical things about ourselves. And we pass our insecurities on to our children- and our friends. When we tear ourselves down, we take others with us. They start thinking they should worry about their appearances too. The comparison and self-loathing games aren't good for any of us.

I often feel like I don’t know ANYONE who is overweight. But if anyone ashamed of their weight is out there reading this, take courage. Courage, dear heart. (CS Lewis) Life is far bigger than if you have a double chin in photos and if your shorts’ tag has a bigger size number than you ever thought you’d see. Life is so much more than the outward. 

I’ve realized this week that I dwell on the outward too much. I don’t know that my inward is very pretty, either. I have many areas in which I need to grow. I’m not very nice to Drew or my mom sometimes. I’m impatient with my children, when they’re just being children. I scroll on my phone when I should be reading something meaningful or writing in the “write the word” journal I got so long ago. 

Life is so much bigger than our insecurities. God is so much bigger than our insecurities!!! This was such a great reminder that I have to let God in more - he tells us that beauty is fleeting, and I quickly forget that. I don't spend time reading the word NEAR enough. I want my boys to be brave, and fun, and faithful, and kind. And do we not we teach children by showing them, instead of just telling them?? 

I realized another thing after Thomas was so impressed with my 3 minutes of wake surfing. When I think about, or pray about, what I want our boys to be, let me tell you what did not make the list: handsome. put together. physically attractive. Certainly active and in awe of nature are on the list. But gosh, I need to focus less on my own self being "put together" or outwardly pretty and more on being adventurous, and loving, and compassionate. 

From day one, I have wanted to be fun for my children. I've had an excellent role model: my mom never let her dress size get in the way of how fun she was with us. She was always active, always in a swimsuit with us at the pool. I wasn't raised with a sit-on-the-sidelines, don't-mess-up-my-hair kind of mom. (Now if you mess up her decorative pillows, that's a different story.) 

My dad NOT being here actually makes me more of a "fun mom." I already think - no, I know - that life is much too short. We do not know how long we'll be here with our children. So we better make the days count. I never knew anyone in real life who was more fun than my dad. So in his absence, he pushes me to be more like him. 

This post doesn’t mean that when I'm at the neighborhood pool with my boys, I'm not thinking for EVERY SECOND to suck in as hard as I can. It doesn’t mean I don’t wonder if everyone is looking at my white thighs that are larger than I ever ever thought they would be. But my boys don't know that, and they don't need to - what they need to know is that mommy is at the pool with them. She's not worried about keeping her hair dry, she's just there to have fun.

Thomas being in awe of me wake surfing really impacted me. It’s funny how  I roll my eyes when people say that their kids teach them things. But guess what! My children are teaching me things! 

Thanks for reading if you’re still here! Happy wake surfing to you and yours!  

don't fail watching. fail trying.

Hi.

I know I sound like a broken record talking about Bob Goff. Everyone that knows me know I love his book Love Does and think it should be required reading for life. I read the book the summer before dad died, and thought of him as I turned each page - it’s a book about a man, and a dad, who lives at full throttle, who is bold and goofy and adventurous and witty and loves the Lord. Bob Goff has a pilot's license and flies single engine two-seaters, too. He loves Young Life and spreading the gospel by just being available and loving. He’s not afraid to be goofy, he likes to throw candy to people, he laughs often and he loves people really, really well. He and my dad must be brothers from another mother, right?

His words at a speaking engagement last year were a balm to my often weary heart. He told a story I hadn’t heard before, though I try to listen to podcasts of his speeches/interviews quite a bit.

At the end of his talk, he shared that he had always had the ambition to save one life. If he could just save one life, he said.

Then he told a story about how he went to college in San Diego. He said, I didn’t really realize I was in college. I just went surging a lot and got a lot of Ds. Sounds just like my dad skiing Lake Austin.

Bob said one time, there was a hurricane coming, or maybe just a big storm, but he was out there in the waves. He got pulled by the riptide, and after hours of fighting the tide, he eventually felt certain this was it; this was how he was going to die.

A man up on the cliffs saw him struggling. They were really steep cliffs, most people couldn’t get down to the water safely, but this man did. And he got in the water. He saved Bob’s life that day.

Every year at Christmas, Bob goes back to give thanks for the man who came down the cliffs, got in the water, and saved him. Recently, he was at the cliffs with one of his sons, and a man fell. Bob and his son climbed down the cliffs, as others watched because it was dangerous, and Bob did CPR for about an hour before medics were able to get there. Sadly, Bob told us, the young man died. Bob said he felt so guilty. His life had been saved there at those cliffs, and then he tried and couldn’t save this young man. But, he went on to say, fail trying. Don’t fail watching. Bob said, we failed trying to save that man’s life. We didn’t fail watching.

Bob went on to explain that the kid who died was on his cell phone, and the press was pretty harsh about it. He fell off the cliff because he was distracted by his phone.

Bob was going to Indiana to speak a few months later, and the young man's parents wanted to meet Bob in person.

Bob told us, I didn’t want to go. What was I going to say? What would we talk about?

They didn’t talk about the mistake the young man made. Bob realized that he had pictures of the sunset the night that the kid fell.

Bob took his computer and showed him pictures of the most beautiful, colorful sunset that their son was trying to capture on his camera phone. This is what your son was trying to see, Bob said. He told his parents about the beauty that their son saw on his last night alive.  

Well, at this point, I couldn’t contain the tears. They streamed down my face and I absorbed every word of Bob’s story.

I had such questions about Dad’s accident. Did he do something wrong? Could we have prevented it? He was flying that day because he had found someone to buy the little blue plane. In my mind, he had decided to sell because my wedding was going to be too expensive. Mom says he was selling it because it was foolish to have two planes. And I know that’s true, but I still spent years with many questions. The blue plane he flew the day he died, the one that he had flown to Montana and back, wasn’t worth a lot of money. I have friends who’s cars cost more. His other plane was also a two-seater, amphibious super cub. Really cool but also not the price tag of a jet or anything like it. Just to be clear - saying that we owned two planes gives me a visual picture very different from reality.  

The NTSB investigates plane crashes. They sent a man to the house a few days after the accident to tell us his findings. He drove from the gravel runway in Kingsland to Houston to meet with “the widow.” That word still stops me in my tracks. He answered a lot of technical questions, and he told us a funny story about the bubblegum they found in the tail of the plane.

But I’ve come to terms with the fact that a lot of questions this side of Heaven, about a lot of things, will remain unanswered.

I try to focus on the glorious, bright spot Dads life was in the world. The fullness and depth of his 53 years. I try to focus on the goodness and not the questions. The legacy he left.

I cried tears of joy and laughter at another event where Bob was speaking.  He was telling a ballroom full of West Houston Young Life folks about the fire at their home in Canada, how the refuge of theirs burned to the ground.

Bob said, when people tell me that everything happens for a reason, I want to scissor kick them in the neck. God is good through it all, but that is not how He operates. (said Bob)

Bob has never said (as far as I know) that God burned down his house. In his new book, he talks about the time that thieves broke into his teams van and stole his laptop with his manuscript saved on it. He talks about how that worked out because he had to rewrite the entire book from scratch and that’s okay because it’s better the second time around. But he never says God sent those thieves to smash all the windows in their van. He never says the Lord sends cancer or plane crashes or terrible witch doctors in Africa to teach us things. (Bob does a lot of work in Africa/Middle East. If you don’t know that, my reference of witch doctors might seem way out of left field.)

Bob talks in his new book Everybody Always about how Jesus reveals himself to us through others. My heart thought God was sending me a message when Bob said,

Let me show the beautiful sunset he was trying to see.

I love you, Dad.

Have I told you my Dad’s cell phone survived the plane crash without so much as a tiny crack? My current phone is more banged up than his.

It is hard for me to reconcile the fact that my dad’s earthly body suffered such trauma that he breathed his last on September 8, but the iPhone in his pocket was unharmed. I wonder how many times in the years since dad’s accident I’ve said I don’t understand. And how many times I have seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. I wish he was still here, oh man, do we wish he was still here.

But let me show you the beauty of the world around him that our dad was trying to see.