Be mine? Be men!

I heard this morning that, apparently, men choose Valentine's gifts, not out of love, but out of fear. Really? Yes, evidently men are not good at choosing what their Valentines want, and are afraid of making a mistake. Which is why so many men stick with "safe" gifts like jewelry, flowers and candy.

Wow! So much for "It's the thought that counts.", huh?

Well, men, I'm here to let you in on a little secret. Valentine's Day (like many other holidays) is a money-making invention of retailers designed to make your girl want gifts, and to make you feel obligated to give them. What? You already knew that? Well, that's not the secret. The secret is that you don't have to do it!

"Yeah, right!", you're saying. Like that wouldn't get me sentenced to sleeping on the couch for a month! But that's the fear talking, and we're gonna overcome the fear, right? So take a deep breath, and keep reading. I promise this is gonna make you a hero to your sweetheart.

Your focus here needs to move away from staying out of trouble towards knocking her socks off!

First, you need to understand that she doesn't really want your gift, she wants you. She wants your attention. She wants to know you care about her. She wants to know you love her. Your gift is merely a token of your love, so if it's going to mean anything, it must be given out of love, not fear. If you give her flowers, once a year, on Valentine's Day, and feel you've done your duty, then your wife will know the romance is dead long before the flowers fade away.

But knowing she wants you, not your gift, gives you tremendous opportunity to think outside the box of chocolates! This is where you get to tell Pro Flowers, "In spite of your 'Only 1 more day to save 15%', I'll decide when to buy flowers for her, thank you very much!"



If you're thinking, "This sounds dangerous.", trust me. You can do this! Another deep breath, and stay with me.

Be creative! Don't feel bound by tradition. After all, your girl is unique, so you don't want her to feel ordinary. Let her know you put some thought into it, rather than following the crowd. But before you get too carried away, a little caution. With your gift you will also be delivering a message, and you want the message to be the right one. For instance, Valentine's Day is probably not the right time to buy her a bowling ball, or a gym membership. Think it through, and, as well as you can, think like she does.

For young men, traditional gifts are probably wise. You want to build a foundation of success before taking big risks. However, traditional gifts can be given in a creative manner. I once negotiated with a local florist for delivery of flowers to my wife every week of the year (beginning on Valentine's Day), and paid for it in 3 installments. By doing so, I made a big impression on her for a substantially reduced price.

While we're on the subject, here's a few tips on flower buying.

1. Buy roses from a florist, not a supermarket. And preferably buy them in person. You can't smell  flowers that you buy over the phone or online. A rose that smells like a rose is worth the price, these days.
2. Valentine's Day and Mother's Day are the most expensive time to buy flowers. If you must buy them for the holiday, buy them early and have them delivered a few days ahead of the date. You'll beat the rush and the markup. If you can, buy them after the holiday when the prices go down.
3. The colors of roses have a particular meaning, so make sure you know what your rose is telling her.  Everyone knows that red roses are for love, but if you want to be different, buy lavender roses which signify "enchantment".

For older men, who have proven themselves, you can be more adventurous. Since your love is established, you can be adventurous and still be safe. Since you know she wants you, give her something that she will share with you, such as dance lessons, or tickets to the opera. But make sure it's something she wants to do, since it's for her. Of course, risky moves sometimes give undesirable results (surprising her with chocolate body paint might produce more comedy than romance). But even if it falls flat, what she will remember is how you were willing to risk looking like a fool to please her. Women love that!

Remember, you are the man! You are the master of your fate, not Hallmark. I have always felt the worst time to show a woman that you love her is when it's expected. Tell me how you can look thoughtful when everyone else is saying, "I love you.", too? That being said, you probably don't want her to be the only one on the planet not being loved on Valentine's Day. So, what do you do?


My solution to this dilemma is simple: Give her something on Valentine's Day that says, "Here's a little something to whet your appetite, but the best is yet to come." By doing this, you accomplish 3 important things:

1. You don't neglect her when she's expecting to receive something.
2. You create an anticipation for more (a gift in itself).
3. When you deliver later, she'll feel exceptional, because she's the only one receiving attention.

Of course, there is no single recipe for romancing a woman. But that's what makes the endeavor so worthwhile. Women are a mystery, and who doesn't love a mystery? So channel your inner Sherlock Holmes, and get to work.

But remember: Don't be an extra in your own love story. Be the leading man!

Alone

Alone

"Hello? Is someone there?"

The Silence answers, "No one."

You're alone.

The Emptiness brings a chill,

But you're sure you heard someone.

No, you're alone.

 Solitude, at times treasured,

This time travels with Loneliness,

Who jeers, "You're alone."

Calling a friend,

The phone rings...and rings...and rings.

You're still alone.

Despair taunts, and Fear mocks,

"Look at you!"

"No wonder you're alone."

Running to the crowd,

Your cry for compassion echoes back,

"Leave us...alone."

Retreating to your room,

The sound of Rain, and the cold of Darkness fall.

So alone.

Free flowing tears and a lump in your throat

Choke your audible prayer,
"Why did You leave me alone?"

The Still Small Voice responds,

"Don't trust your feelings. I'm always with you."

"You're never alone."

Fearfully and Wonderfully

The index finger on my left hand was causing me pain all day yesterday, and hurts again today. And that's a good thing.

About 17 years ago, I was working as a contract forestry surveyor in Washington state, running cutting lines for Boise Cascade. The project we had been working on took us about 8 weeks to complete, and on the last day of work we were looking forward to a sizable (and much needed) paycheck.

The final hike back to the truck was down a rather steep hillside, and, though I knew it was a dangerous thing to do, being a "skilled professional", I was using my machete as a walking stick to help support my descent.

The truth is, I didn't grow up in the woods and was rather clumsy, falling frequently. The only reason I was doing this work was because I needed a job, and a friend offered to hire me. It turned out to be good exercise for me, and I actually grew to enjoy the outdoor experience. What I had learned, but had yet to master, was that walking in the woods wasn't like walking in the park.

So, on this last day of work on this particular project, predictably, I slipped and fell while traversing the steep decline, and sliced my left palm on my machete.

Though there was no pain (perhaps because there was no pain), I knew it was bad before I looked. The cut was on my "life line", right below my index finger. What I suspected, was later confirmed: the cut went deep enough to sever the nerve on the thumb side of my finger. I had no feeling from the cut to the tip of my finger.

Though a hand specialist told me it would be a mistake to not repair the nerve, I was inclined to avoid surgery. My father had nearly cut the ring finger on his left hand off when he was a boy, and lived the rest of his life bending it by overlapping it with his middle finger to pull it down. I figured I could function in a similar manner.

The doctor said that the inside and outside of the thumb, the thumb side of the index finger, and the outside of the "pinky" are the most critical areas to maintain feeling in order for the hand to function. Because I'm left handed this was especially true. He predicted that, if I didn't have surgery, I would wind up using my middle finger as an index finger, and my index finger would eventually become stiff and unbendable from lack of use.

At the urging of my wife, my father, and friends, I decided to have the surgery.

This is where my education on the body's nervous system began. I asked question after question, wanting to get my money's worth in knowledge about what had happened, and what was to be done to repair the damage.

What I learned was that our nerves are encased in a "sheath" about the size of a human hair, and that inside this sheath are tens of thousands of nerve fibers which convey information to the brain through the nerve cells. The "sheath" containing the nerves to the thumb side of my index finger had been severed, and because it is somewhat elastic, the two sides retracted from one another ensuring that they would never grow back together on their own.

Through micro surgery, the doctor was able to put three sutures into the nerve sheath (picture sewing two pieces of hair together), and my hand was put in a cast to keep me from tearing the sutures out while the sheath grew back together. I wore the cast for two weeks.

If you've never had it done to you, you cannot imagine what happens to your fingers if you do not move them for 2 weeks. The doctor explained that the cartilage in your joints is lubricated by synovial fluid that, if not kept fluid (by frequent motion) turns into a solid. When the cast was removed I discovered that all the joints in my hand had swollen to about twice their normal size, I could not bend my fingers, and that to try to bend my fingers caused pain that caused tears. Regardless, I was given 2 weeks to be able to make a fist, with the threat that if I could not do it on my own, I would do it with "help".

I won't bore you with the details of The Agony and the Ecstasy of Howard Making a Fist, except to say that I succeeded before my 2-week followup appointment. It was at this meeting that my education continued.

I learned that the surgery only joined the two ends of the nerve sheath, and that the rest of the healing would be accomplished by my body. The doctor told me that bringing the ends together only made it possible for the nerves to reconnect, but that a wall of scar tissue would have to be penetrated before that could happen. Amazingly, our bodies are designed so that the nerve fibers seek out these connections, and eventually grow through the scar tissue to find a mate on the other side. This process, though it would continue for the rest of my life, would probably only result in a 15% success rate. The good news, however, is that only 1% was necessary in order for my finger to be usable.

I also discovered that this process was already well on it's way. The doctor used a tool that "scratched" the tip of my finger to test for feeling. He also tested the area near the surgery site. To my surprise, I was able to feel the stimulation, but not like I expected. What happened was, when the doctor stimulated the tip of my finger, I felt it at the surgery site, and vise versa. He said this was normal, and that as the nerves were repaired, the sensation would grow progressively closer to the actual place of stimulation.

The other thing that was evident was that, though there was a tingly numbness, the sensation of feeling was very acute. I was told that the way our nerves work is to transmit messages to the brain through the nerve cells, as previously mentioned. More specifically, to indicate a touch, a few cells send the message, but for pain, many more cells send the same message, the number of cells used increasing as the stimulus increases. In my case, however, because I had sustained catastrophic damage, all the available cells are used regardless of the intensity of the stimulus.

Indeed, since the surgery, the slightest nick or splinter or burning of my finger has caused a feeling of pain that has been difficult to ignore. As more nerve fibers have reconnected, this annoyance has lessened as the nerves have been retrained.

This brings us to the pain I felt all day yesterday. I was told that whenever a new connection was made, that particular nerve would begin transmitting pain messages, in a sense announcing that it was "back in business". From experience, I know that this pain will last a few of days, then gradually subside. I've learned to embrace this pain with thankfulness that my body is still healing itself.

I wanted to take the time to write this in the hope that some of you will be awed (as I am) at how, to quote the psalmist, "fearfully and wonderfully" we are made. Our nervous systems are just one bodily system that we take for granted until something happens to interrupt its operation.

As we study the human body, our awe increases with our understanding (at least mine does), and there are many things we just don't understand, but accept as fact.

Perhaps most amazing is the body's ability to heal and regenerate itself with a minimum of help from us. If we just give it a little food, a little water, a little rest, a little protection, and a little nurturing, our bodies continue to function as designed for around "three score and ten" years (also by design). In many cases this function takes place without our even noticing, and in spite of our habits that hinder it.

My hope is, that after reading this, you will be able to be thankful for the pain you feel when injured, understanding a little of what is going on to create the sensation. I know I am!

Shadow Flight

In a year of many "firsts" without my dad, tomorrow is the first Father's Day since he passed away last year. Consequently, I find myself un-moored, drifting through the Father's Day preparations, wondering just how I'm supposed to behave.

Likely I will call my mother in lieu of the traditional call to my dad, checking in with her, and sharing in her emptiness. I will miss my dad, and in spite of many reasons to be joyful, will probably shed some tears because he is gone.

But, mostly, I will be thankful. Thankful that I had my dad for 52+ years. And not only was he a part of my whole life to this point, but our relationship was strong and meaningful. He was my father first, but also a great friend. He was a wise counselor who was always there when I needed him, and I cherished our bond. When he died, we had no regrets (none of any great consequence), and he knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me.

And I will also be thankful that this legacy is being carried on, knowing that I will spend this Father's Day with 7 of my 8 children, and all 4 of my grandchildren (my oldest, Andrea, would be with us if she could). I feel so blessed that all these relationships are intact, and that we all have learned to so highly value our love for one another.

I feel so blessed because there are so many in the world who do not share my experience, and I am grieved because they are trading true treasures for fool's gold.

The scenario (with minor variances) is all too common: A young man, feeling oppressed by a controlling father, cannot wait until he turns 18 so that he can finally be free to live as he wants. And a father, at his wit's end trying to direct a rebellious son, finally longs for the day he will be free from this responsibility.

Most of the time, what is called an oppressive and controlling father by the son, is in fact a father who, out of love for his son and desiring to help him avoid life's hard lessons, resorts to force and ultimatum because he knows no other way, and the father usually regrets this mistake.

And most of the time, what the father calls rebellion, is an unskilled man-boy who is trying to spread his wings, and is frustrated with his own immaturity and inability to make his father understand. The son, too often, discovers his mistake when it is too late to correct it.

For these, Father's Day is a reminder of what they are missing.

Both of them are right, and yet both of them are so very wrong. Unfortunately, pride prevents them each from giving in to the other, and so they seek an end to the pain by going their separate ways. While this resolution seems to solve the problem, the cost is too great. I know this, because I know what is being forfeited.

So for this Father's Day, I want to give a gift to any son who is currently longing for the day he will finally be out from the shadow of his father's rule, and to any father who has grown weary of trying, and secretly waits for the day he can tell his son, "I told you so." It is the secret to a beautiful father-son relationship that will last a lifetime.

First, for the son: The example you should follow is Jesus of Nazareth, who, though he were the creator of all things, and the Lord of Life, said, "I always do what pleases him.", meaning his father. I know there are some real cases of abuse, but usually fathers love their sons, and want what is best for them. They just perform imperfectly. They are men, after all. They want to do well, but still fail. But if you will give up your own will, and do what pleases your father, his heart will be inclined toward you, and like Jesus you will hear, "Behold my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."

And for you fathers: Follow the example of the prodigal's father, who, when when his son came back, "...saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." Do not grow weary waiting for your son to mature, but look for it to happen, and when it does, don't make him grovel, but bend over backward to make him glad that he submitted himself to you.

I did not always submit myself to my father as I should have, and I know that I caused him considerable pain, especially in my adolescence. But he humbled himself and forgave me, and was patient with me as I matured, and never gave up on me. I believe he was rewarded for his sacrifice.

Neither was my father perfect. Many times he disciplined me in anger, and occasionally judged me unfairly, but I humbled myself and forgave him, because it was clear he was doing his best, and what he did he did out of love. This small sacrifice on my part has been repaid an hundred-fold.

If you can do this (humble yourself and forgive one another), then you too will find that this small investment was well worth the price compared to the life-long dividends you will reap. And Father's Day will be a time of thanksgiving and not of regret.

Extending Grace

I was remembering an event that happened last summer, that was, on the surface, a baseball travesty, but was ultimately the epitome of human forgiveness.

On June 2, 2010, Armando Galarraga of the Detroit Tigers sought to become only the 21st player in major-league history to accomplish a perfect game, recording all 27 outs without allowing a base runner. Remarkably, there had already been 2 perfect games pitched in 2010, so after Galarraga retired the 26th consecutive batter, it appeared history might be made, as there had never been 3 perfect games thrown the same year.

Then the inexplicable happened. On a ground ball to the first baseman, Galarraga himself covered first base to record the final out, but Jim Joyce, an experienced and well respected umpire called the batter safe at first. Though it is clear from replays, and Joyce readily admits to blowing the call, Galarraga's place in history was irretrievably lost. Major-league baseball has no provision for overturning such a call.

Though, to most of us, baseball is "only a game", it is hard to imagine a more tragic thing happening to someone who has made the sport his life. Of all the great pitchers the game has featured, only a very small percentage ever pitch a game where their "stuff" is un-hittable, AND where the defense plays flawlessly behind them. And since no pitcher has ever done it twice, it is reasonable to assume that Galarraga will never have a chance to duplicate his feat.

But, as incredible as Galarraga's performance was, what I want to focus on is what he did after suffering this bitter disappointment. Because, what followed his "perfect game that wasn't" went beyond the pinnacle of human endeavor, reaching the divine realm. He extended grace to the one who had robbed him of his historical achievement.

Grace is defined as "unmerited favor". Jim Joyce who clearly made an error, did not deserve to be forgiven, and by inference Galarraga had the right to condemn him. But he chose to let it go, and let Jim Joyce go free.

Click this link to view the news story surrounding this event.

We all face disappointment in life, and all of us experience being wronged by another person. What we do afterward, though, is what defines us. Armando Galarraga will always be remembered for having been "cheated" out of pitching a perfect game, but I will always remember him for his perfect example of forgiving the one who committed the wrong against him.

Valentine's Redux

Okay, so my Valentine's Day was hijacked this year. That's okay, that's what "Plan B" is for.

My wife and I play this little game where she says something like, "You don't need to do anything for me for Valentine's Day. It means more when you do something for me that's not expected." And I play along and pretend that I could actually do nothing on February 14th to commemorate our love, and get away with it.

Of course, the true romantic wants to separate himself from the pack by being unique, but, while unique, doing nothing for your wife for Valentine's Day makes you stand out in an undesirable way. Consequently, I usually plan something modest (but original) for the Day of Love, and look for opportunities throughout the year to more fully demonstrate my love for her.

This year, however, my modest plans were derailed when my son bought my wife chocolates and took her out on a "date", and my wife prepared a roast for supper when I had hoped to whisk her away to a restaurant.

Rather than try to force the issue, and cause an unpleasant, uncomfortable evening, I decided to shelve "Project Cupid" for a later date.

Surprise! Today is the day!

And now that the flowers you bought are dead, the candy is gone, and the romantic meal is forgotten in a sea of Hamburger Helper, the rest of you guys are gonna look thoughtless!

Life is a Toboggan Ride

A phrase that has recently entered the Ainsworth Family vernacular, and most often repeated by my wife and I, is: "This is not my life!"

What we mean by this is that the life we are living is not the one we pictured at the beginning. It implies the belief that this is someone else's life, and it is being imposed on us. Too many people have the power to insert themselves into our story, rewriting portions if not overhauling the whole theme. And furthermore, it begs the question, "Who do we need to talk to to remedy the situation?"

A prime example of this is our standard "date night", chronicled in my last post, Mr. Monk Gets Interrupted.

The conclusion I've come to recently, though, is that this really is my life, and that rather than try to determine with whom I need to file a complaint, I need to embrace my life. Like George Bailey, I've discovered that it really is a wonderful life, even if it's not exactly the one I had mapped out for myself.

What occurred to me the other day is that this trip called life is not a cross-country trip in a car, nor even on a motorcycle. No, the modern day vehicles we drive are well designed and easy to control. They do break down sometimes, you may get temporarily lost, or even have an accident, but the vast majority of the time you can easily navigate from Point A to Point B on schedule and without mishap. For most people, Life isn't like that. For most people, Life is a toboggan ride.

If you've ever ridden a toboggan, especially with 4 or 5 other people, down an ungroomed, snow-covered hill, you have an idea of what I'm talking about. If you've ever been responsible for steering such a toboggan, then you know exactly what I mean.

These days, when driving a modern vehicle, you program your trip in your GPS, then follow the step-by-step instructions until you reach your destination. If you should happen to get off course, a pleasant voice immediately informs you of your error, and announces, "Recalculating route". Some of them even help you avoid construction zones and traffic delays. And if your vehicle is well maintained, you have brakes, signal lights, and steering to quickly, efficiently, and safely make the necessary corrections.

It's true that some people have the advantage of "voices" directing them through life, but these are often fickle, deceptive, and unreliable.

On the toboggan ride of life, you pretty well have just one shot at getting it right. Spending time planning your run is paramount, because once you start gaining momentum, course corrections are difficult and protracted, and slowing down or stopping may be impossible, depending on the steepness of the hill. Also, despite the best of planning, unseen obstacles and undulations in the snow may throw you off course, sending you in an unwanted direction.

For best results, you also need the cooperation of everyone riding with you, working together to steer and brake by leaning and using hands and feet. Your passengers need to be willing to hang on, too, even in the face of danger. Otherwise, you'll need to find a way to get stopped, regather everyone, and start again, perhaps attending to injuries in the process.

While it is certain that everyone will get to the end of their ride, very few actually wind up close to where they had originally planned. You might consider yourself a failure for having "missed it". You might even cry, "Foul!" because you didn't understand that so many outside forces would inevitably send you off course.

However, that's the nature of sledding. In spite of your careful planning, once you launch yourself from the top of the hill, it will be a constant battle to stay on course. You'll be tossed to the side. You may lose a passenger or two along the way, and you may crash. Hopefully you'll be able to avoid hitting any trees, bringing a premature end to your ride. If you get too far off course, you may need to stop, and take a long, arduous hike back to the right path before setting off again.

But if you understand all this before hand, and you're prepared for it, it's a blast! The wind and snow spray in your face is exhilarating! The speed of the ride, and being on the edge of losing control causes a rush of adrenaline, sharpening the senses and making you feel alive.

Also, the occasional "flat spot" or "dumping" gives you time to catch your breath, and reassess your situation, measuring how far you've come and how much is left to go. It gives you a chance, too, to look back at your trail and reminisce. Every "swoosh" in the track, every sitzmark, every footprint tells a part of the story, reminding you of your successes and your failures. The best parts being told and retold, again and again. The worst parts being left behind and forgotten.

And the greatest reward is sharing the journey with others, the people you love. Laughing together, crying together, facing fear together, loving together, and making common memories. These things are what make the ride enjoyable. And life is not a destination, but a journey.

This IS my life, and it's wonderful, George Bailey!