An Unnecessary Introduction

Have I ever introduced you to my father?

We don't look much alike. I'm skinny and have a large beard. He's stocky, but he also had a beard from time to time.

We're also two very different personalities. I'm laid-back, introverted, and reflective. I enjoy my time alone. My dad, on the other hand, was the definition of an extrovert. No matter where he went, he had friends or made friends. I never saw the man alone. Even on a simple trip to the store, my dad could waste half an hour chatting up a cashier. I, on the other hand, get out of grocery stores as quickly as possible. Where I see an errand, he saw an opportunity.

My dad played football in high school. He always told me that he remembered playing against Barry Sanders. He never claimed to have actually tackled him, though. Meanwhile, I bowled, sang, and volunteered my time left and right throughout high school.

Personally, my faith has been a lot like a pendulum throughout my life. Back and forth, to and fro. My dad's faith? It would be a lot more comparable to sky-diving - all or nothing.

And this is how he lived much of his life. He either jumped out of the plane, or he was flying it himself. His passion for life was one of his redeeming qualities, though it was often overshadowed by his flaws.

Even though he was often misguided, my dad was the poster child for living life "to the fullest." He was almost always smiling, and his laugh was infectious - one of those sounds you had to smile at when you heard it. He always had new jokes up his sleeve and was always listening for more. And here we see our lives intersect.

I try to be a poster child for getting the most out of life. I run a blog about living life to the fullest, after all. And since my wife taught me to laugh many years ago, I often laugh too loud, too often. I'm similar to my dad in that.

And you know, we also both suffer from chronic illness. My dad's was mental, and mine is physical. But that never stopped him from living, and it sure won't stop me either.

We also bonded over our love for American football and all things to do with the Kansas City Chiefs. I remember one Thanksgiving when we just sat together in my grandparent's living room watching a game together that neither of us particularly cared about. I'm almost positive that we both fell asleep. But still, he thanked me for sitting with him that day. I also remember the pre-season game he took me to when I was younger, and then the playoff game he somehow got tickets for when I was a teenager. Unforgettable memories, to say the least.

I'd also like to think that I got part of my "smarts" from my dad. He was good with his hands - he could figure out just about anything with relative ease and quickness. And even though he never taught me any of his tricks, I'm finding that my hands are already familiar with many of them. I was never taught to be handyman, but maybe he knew he didn't need to teach me - I already was as his son.

And while he didn't finish high school, he was still very smart. He was one of those types of people who knew things that nobody else does (or even cares to know, really). And as I grow older, I find myself reflecting that - always telling people things they didn't want to or need to know. Which is why I blog, I suppose.

My dad was a thrill-seeker. And even though my body limits me, I am too. One quick look at my Bucket List will tell you that. I can't wait to get a chance to sky-dive or bungee jump. And though I never saw him do either of those things, I'm sure my dad would've been the first one to jump with me.

And at my dad's funeral, one thing was clear - his love for his family was paramount. And until that day, two weeks before I left for college, I didn't understand that love. It wasn't until it was gone and I had a chance to feel it missing that I realized what my dad's number one passion was: us - his kids, his family, his pride and joy.

And even though my dad was buried that day, I couldn't allow death to take him away. I had to keep a piece of him with me. So I snuck a lump of his love and mixed it with a portion of his passion. I resolved to keep my father alive as long as it was within my ability to do so. But, even if you visit my hometown today, you can see his face on his tombstone, with his body buried beneath.

Did I fail?

Over the last 4 years, as I've learned to live life without a father. I've struggled, fallen, and utterly failed at times. But I've done so with passion. I've done so with gusto. I've done so with love. And so I never failed at all. Never even a little bit.

You see, even though I've never introduced you to my father, you've met him. He lives in me through my unbridled love for my family. Through my passion for life and for getting the most out of every single second I have. Through my ridiculous obsession over a football team who, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't matter.

Sure, my dad and I don't seem much alike at first glance. But when you break me open and peer into my spirit, you see him alive and kicking, laughing, yelling, and having an all-around good time. He was never gone - not even for a second.

You may have never met my father, who I lost entirely too soon, but you've met me. And even though I'd never admit it to him (nor he to me), we're one in the same.

I've never introduced you to my father, but even if I did, you'd probably say, "Oh, sure, we've met before!" And he'd laugh, with his all-too-cheesy grin, and agree.

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Questions: What people have made a lasting impact on your life? Who lives in you that may not be physically alive today? How can you make the most of the moments you have with your loved ones this week?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading!

Win of the Week

It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday...

And around here, while we're getting "down" on Friday, we're also celebrating! We've finally made it through another week. Time to breathe a sigh of relief and take a moment to reflect and remember the ups and downs of this past week.

It's time for us to share our Win of the Week! 

Again, I want to divide this between virtual and real-life, because that distinction is important. So, first off, my virtual Win of the Week would have to be finally getting set up with Amazon Associates!

I'm not sure why I hadn't done it prior to now, but I already made a few pennies, so I'm pretty excited about that. So if you decide you're going to buy something through Amazon, consider clicking through Life Before the Bucket first! It's an easy way to help support the blog while paying money you would already be paying anyway!

My real life Win of the Week could be a number of things. Getting stuck in an elevator made for a great story. It's also the end of the next to last week of our undergraduate program, which I'm stoked about. I'm excited to begin our life in a new place soon! Or it could be getting to go on a great date with my wife earlier this week!

My real Win of the Week, though, is something much simpler. I spent a lot of time this week reading on my Kindle, which I love and don't usually have enough time for. It's an easy way for me to keep track of all of my books and a great medium to receive free and dirt cheap books from. I think my Kindle and I will be spending a lot more time together in the near future!

Also, a bonus win has to be seeing this video. I promise you'll love it - it's hilarious!

What was your Win of the Week in real life? What was your virtual/blogging Win of the Week? Feel free to shamelessly share your own content!

Disclaimer: This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase anything through the link, I will receive monetary compensation for your purchase.

Enjoying the Journey

Story time!

Last night we had a meeting with our graduating class to discuss our school and what it is doing well and how it could improve. As with any good meeting involving college students, we were bribed with food. More specifically, pizza. I gladly accepted the bribe and made my way to the meeting.

Now, in order to understand this story, you have to know that I have a chronic lung disease. I was having a particularly rough day. Walking slowly felt like sprinting to my lungs, so I took every chance I could to take a break, including riding the elevators at our school (which I do every day).

Well, earlier that day, I had taken a ride up our newer elevator to the library. It decided to start going up before the doors were closed, which was a little freaky, but it quickly realized its mistake and stopped. I was grateful, because I wasn't in the mood to be stuck on an elevator.

Cue the meeting for pizza a couple of hours later. I still was feeling miserable, but I was really hungry, so the pizza seemed like a fair trade off for my lungs to think they ran a marathon to get there. Per usual, I took the elevator (a different one, mind you). This elevator always smells... unique. Some kind of delightful concoction of dead possum, bad perfume, and body odor. Spending more than a minute on it most likely shortens your lifespan by years (my unofficial guess; experiments are pending). 

As usual, I parted ways with my wife as she climbed the stairs and I waited for the slowest elevator on earth. It eventually arrived, I stepped in, hit the button to go up, and was off to the...

And then, all of a sudden, everything stopped.

The elevator was silent. No movement. Thankfully, the light was still on inside of it, but it was definitely stuck.

Now, granted, odds would favor the fact that if anyone at our school was to get stuck in the elevator, it would be me. I'm a glutton for punishment, I suppose. But seriously?

Not cool, sketchy elevator. Not cool.

I promptly called my wife to address two concerns:

Concern One. She had to get me some pizza. I had no idea what the food situation was like, and college students can be like ravenous wolves around free pizza, so I had to ensure that my time in the elevator wouldn't be for naught. I realize my priorities may appear to have been a little confused here, but I assure you that it made sense at the time. In fact, it still makes sense.

Concern Two. "Oh, yeah. Hey, while you're stealing a box of pizza for me, could you let someone know that I'm stuck in the elevator. No biggie."

All I hear after that point is a huge ruckus in the background as my wonderful wife is trying to find someone who might actually be able to do something about my unfortunate plight. She eventually tells me that she's told someone, and then we say goodbye. And no, we didn't say "I love you," just in case the elevator was the death of me.

We're terrible married people.

At this point, my lungs were reminding me why I took the elevator in the first place. So I quickly sat down, because I had no clue how long I would be in that wretched box. And as I sat, I realized how weird it is to actually sit on an elevator. It's like the epitome of laziness. But there I was, just chillin', really craving some pizza while sitting on the ground of the elevator.

Like I told my wife, no biggie.

Some of my funnier classmates decided to pay the elevator a visit. One of our friends, in particular, decided to "coach" me through escaping. She failed miserably, but it made for a good laugh (though I realized that laughing may be detrimental at that point - there's no telling how bad inhaling the air from the elevator is for your health). 

And so, that's why you're reading a post that I'm writing from an elevator shaft!

Just kidding. 

I got out. But being stuck in there overnight seemed like a better story. Forgive me.

Moral of the story? Well, I'm sure there's one hidden in there about riding elevators and the importance of climbing stairs, but that's beside the point. I think, more than anything, what I took away from this adventure was this:

The destinations we seek are often not the point of it all. It's the journey itself that often teaches us the most. 

It's during the transition that we become who we are. And really, when aren't we in transition? Right now, we're about to move. We're also about to graduate. And we're about to find a new church home. And we're about to make new friends. And ultimately, we're about to start a new life.

And while it sounds like an awful place to be - really, who enjoys the road trip more than the destination? - we are making the most of our moments "in between." And even as I prepare to sing in a choir program about heaven, I think this applies in the same way and ties into our mission/theme/goal here at Life Before the Bucket: "Living life to the fullest - every single day."

I most likely will remember nothing about the meeting we had last night. I might remember that it involved pizza, but that's about it. What I will remember is the trip there.

It's easy to skim over the transitions in our lives, hoping to get to the next big event or the next meeting or even just the next day. But it's often not the destinations that make the best memories - it's the trip there that builds character and allows us opportunities to grow and become the people we want to be.

Today, choose to be present, regardless of whether or not you've arrived where you want to be. Enjoy the journey, even if it takes longer than you'd like. And make the most out of the unexpected. You'll never know what great memories you could be creating if you never give life a chance to make them.

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Questions: What transitions are you in the middle of right now? How do you handle the "in between" times? What are some of your favorite road trip memories?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading!

image credits - moiseg, arinas74 - sxc.hu

Doing Something Harder

Note from Adrian: This is a guest post from my friend, Natalie, who echoes my heart 100% in almost every area of life. Natalie is a Christ-follower, a newlywed, an orphan advocate, an almost-official social worker, and a lover of all things cute and artsy. She live in St. Louis City with her curly-haired husband where she blogs and tweets about little things and big stuff.

(Want to write a guest post for Life Before the Bucket?)
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For me, living life to the fullest has meant different things at different times. But I don't think I've done it well until lately. And even now, I seem to face decisions in increasing frequency when I feel myself want to choose the less "full" choice.

I'm currently in the last month of my graduate program. In May, I will hold in my hands a Master's in Social Work. You can do a whole lot in social work. While most people think of middle aged white women coming to the door of poor families to snatch away their kids, I've learned social work also involves running youth programs, providing activities for the elderly, and advocating for or against policies.

As I search for a job, I feel myself desiring a 9a to 5p job with a cushy salary, frequent rewards, and little stress. Those social work jobs are out there. And because I have a background in journalism, those jobs are always on my mind, too. Working in front of a computer at a magazine? Sure! But I know the clear voice of a God who has been calling me to more for the past three years. I desire to work with families who have lost all respect from society. I desire to advocate for vulnerable, hurt children. I want to work in foster care.

I'm glad to be underpaid and overworked in the name of advocating for the best interests of a child. I'm glad to be called at all hours to address crises that arise when emotionally hurting kids are expected to act "normal." After all, we are called to "speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves" [Proverbs 31:8]. God has given me the faith and the resources to not only survive, but excel, at doing something harder. At speaking up. He has taken my idol of comfort and security and pushed it a bit further from my reach.

While social work is what I know I am called to do right now, I also know there will soon be a time when I am called to be a mom. I feel this most wonderful, scary, uncomfortable desire to adopt kids from hard places. Kids who have experienced great loss and whom very little may be known about. And this is okay with me.

I will not boast in my plans, but instead keep an ear out for God's. And even when I think I know His plans for my husband and me, I will continually submit them to Him. I will have constant conversations with Him. I will whisper to Him when I feel the uncomfortableness creeping in.

"Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit'— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.'” [James 4:13-15]

What is life if I don't feel uncomfortable sometimes? What is life if I don't feel stress and worry once in a while? What is life if I don't say, "if the Lord wills"?

To me, this is living life to the fullest.

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Questions: What hard things do you feel called to do? What scares you most about those hard things? What have you done lately that was uncomfortable, but worthwhile?

This guest post was part of a guest post series called "Living to the Fullest." Interested in joining in? I'm still looking for submissions! Just write up a post, or even just an idea, and e-mail it my way!

Less is More

Even though I'm a bit belated with updating you, our journey through 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess has continued. A quick summary to catch you up on our mutiny thus far:

Month 1: We pray seven times a day and take the Sabbath seriously. This actually causes us to bald and don robes, essentially making us monks. We eventually give up the monastic life because we hear they don't have Internet.

Month 2: We only eat seven foods for a month. My foods: rice, black beans, fish, peanut butter, spinach, pears, and coffee. My wife's foods: rice, black beans, spinach, apples, bananas, oatmeal, and almonds. By the end of this month, we crave anything and everything that is and isn't edible. We will never do that again (insert foot in mouth).

This brings us to Month 3, which we recently completed. Compared to Month 2, Month 3 was a walk in the park. We chose to don only seven pieces of clothing. This caused us to look like one of two things: bums or college students. Turns out we looked just about the same as usual.

Now I know what you're thinking: seven pieces of clothing for a month straight?! Crazy talk. Personally, I thought it sounded a little weird, too, but as long as I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted, I was okay with doing just about anything.

So we went about our month, wearing only seven clothes, which, thanks to the summer that briefly visited us in March, was relatively painless. I was only caught in the rain without a jacket once. And I was forced to shower every 24 hours because I couldn't wear a hat to school (which sounds ridiculous, but it was a pain!).

You know what the weirdest part of the entire month was? Nobody noticed or cared that I had barely changed clothes for four weeks straight. Not a single person. Not even me, frankly.

And in case you missed that, allow me to reiterate: nobody cared. It turns out that we're all so focused on ourselves that we could care less about whether or not someone wears the same clothes repeatedly over and over (and over) again. Now, granted, we're college students, and our "fashion lives" are mostly non-existent. But I suspect this would've been the case wherever I went.

This only fueled my fire for the fourth month of our experimental mutiny: I was ready to ditch every piece of clothing I had except those seven. Thankfully, my wife stopped me from completely abandoning my dresser and closet full of clothes (one of the many reasons I married her).

But, seriously, it just amazed me how much attention, time, and money we give to our wardrobe selection. We think, "Oh, I have to look just perfect, otherwise people will make fun of me." Nope, not true at all. Not even a little. The real truth that all of those department stores won't tell you is this: we're all so inwardly focused and self-conscious that we don't pay nearly as much attention to way others appear as we think we do. And that's a good thing.

Meanwhile, as I have a pair of shoes for every outfit, people all over the world (and even in our own country) are wearing shoes that don't fit and are causing them pain. Or, even worse, they're wearing no shoes at all, which causes them to cut and bruise themselves on a daily basis. And, in a worst case scenario, they don't have access to a tetanus vaccine and become direly sick as a result of stepping on rusty metal in one way or another.

Thinking about this was all the motivation I needed to purge my closet for Month 4. Even as a guy, I own entirely too many clothes. Maybe it was the fact that I grew up surrounded by women, but I've put way too much emphasis on how I look. And it turns out that the very one who I should by trying to please doesn't even take a second glance at how I appear! It turns out that he's more interested in how I clothe my heart. God wants us to adorn ourselves with himself, not with clothing that reflects even more of myself to me (since it seems nobody else cares what I look like).

And don't even get me started on the fact that by buying certain brands of clothing, we're supporting modern-day slavery. I don't know nearly enough about sweatshops, but I do know that they exist and that they support our extravagant way of living. You can turn a blind eye if you'd like, but that won't stop the reality that is our backwards way of life. It's almost like the Hunger Games, except that it's real. We're the Capitol, and they're our peons, slaving away so that we can pretend to fulfill our imagined needs (which are never fulfilled, like, ever). And that's terrifying, especially if we're seeking to live our lives to the fullest. We should never seek our pleasure at the expense of another's livelihood. 

So if you take anything away from our mutiny against excess, take this: our way of life is wrong. We're a slave to the machine that tries to sell us on the fact that bigger is better, and more is even better than that. The real truth? Less is more. So do us all a favor: vote with the dollars you do have and choose to unplug yourself from the machine of extravagance and excess. Do it for just a month. Or a week. Or even a day.

You'll quickly realize how little having every piece of clothing you want matters. Or how little some others have, while all we want is more, more, more. And all the while, our Savior beckons us all, whether we're dressed well or not, calling us to lay aside everything we have - to literally drop it all, because following him requires everything we have and everything he wants, and not everything he has and everything we want. 

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Questions: Are you self-conscious about the clothes you wear? Do you think others would notice if you started wearing the same clothes over and over again? What areas of excess do you need to trim in order to truly be able to follow Jesus?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading!

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. I will be compensated if you choose to purchase anything through these referral links.