Sunday thoughts. . .

It's funny how some of life's more simple things can cause you to enter into a contemplative frame of mind.

Tonight my son asked me to play trucks with him in his room. My son will be 3 in September (he was born on the one-year anniversary of 9/11). This was nothing unusual as we often spend time hanging out in his room. Whether it's playing cars, looking at the hockey stickers on his bed, or watching one of the many Bob the Builder or Blues Clues videos he already has memorized, hanging out in his room is one of the things he enjoys doing.

As we were making truck sounds and driving these little plastic trucks around his room I was overwhelmed with the realization that, at that point in time, nothing in the world could have made me want to trade that time we were spending together. It was such a simple thing (to me), and yet, to my little man doing his best dumptruck sound, the time I was spending with him meant everything.

There are many times during my day when my thoughts drift to my kids. I find those times are when I feel both proud, and terrified. It's a confusing twist of emotion really. I mean, for the most part I still feel like a kid myself (or perhaps act is a better choice of words- you'll have to ask my wife on that one).

I do not feel worthy, or capable of the responsibility that comes with raising children. Feelings of inferiority aside though, I press on because I know that my kids need it, and I know that regardless of whatever else I do in this life, my legacy now lies in the people my children grow up to become.

For months (perhaps years) now I have been riding a rollercoaster where I have been trying to figure out where "I fit" in this world. I have a decent job (it's getting better) but it's not something I grew up dreaming of doing. I have a house. A big backyard. A swingset. The world's largest sandbox (which took me an entire Saturday to shovel 5 yards worth of sand from front-yard to back yard). A beautiful wife. Two beautiful children. A faith that, while still young, anchors everything else in my life. I really have nothing to complain about.

And yet, there has always been a part of me that seems insistent on asking, "Isn't there more than this?" And perhaps now, for the first time, I'm starting to realize that all the time I spend wondering about whether there's something better for me is perhaps causing me to miss out on how good I already have it.

As I get to know myself better and start to understand more about what is important to me, I start to realize that first and foremost, I am a family man. As I said before, my legacy lies in the people my children grow-up to become.

The fact is, the job I have now, while not my dream job of playing shortstop for the Chicago Cubs (although with Nomar out perhaps they're looking :-)), allows me to be the type of Dad I want to be- an active one. It allows me to be home by 5 and to be home on the weekends. Very rarely do I have to travel and very rarely do I have to bring any work-related stress or baggage home with me. It also pays the bills, feeds the bellies, and keeps clothes on our backs.

In this day and age when so many people poor themselves into their jobs so that they can have the "perfect life" I find myself going against the flow. Sure it would be nice to have millions of dollars in the bank account. Sure it would be nice to get away from living paycheck to paycheck. But am I willing to sacrifice wrestling matches with my son, or watching my 10-month old little girl experience the wonders of all the new things she learns on a daily basis? No way Jose.

I am understanding that I am in the place that God wants me to be. My anxiousness to "do more" and "be better" is the world trying to tell me that I'm not good enough where I'm at today.

Tonight, my son taking my hand and walking me down the hallway so that just the two of us could have some father and son time told me that I'm actually doing quite well and that, in fact, it doesn't get any better than this.