Broken but Ready to Dance

This weekend something broke. It was me. That damn thing between my ears ain’t right.

Thankfully, I have an amazing support system and I’m taking time this week to try to pull my shit together.

Yeah, there’s a ton of stuff going on. Left my job to pursue my passion for nonprofit work. Established 4 Your Cause, Minnesota Hockey Fights Cancer and SoFeyen 73 to support that direction.


Sports stop, kids in homeschool, society separating each day further to their asinine right and left corners.

F’in politics being used as a argument for defining the corners when in reality morality and social conscience are the domains truly at stake.

Gol Darn money and economics driving what should be social conscience. Where we will come together to do whatever it takes to overcome the immense weight of the almighty dollar.

Me vs You. When us should be the focus.

No sleeping, at least at night. Nodding off all day long to take breaks from my life and shoving aside the things that should be most important.

Increased bickering from familiarity built contempt.

Neighbor against neighbor, because for some reason I’m an ass for having too much focus on others and that is me being selfish and disrespectful. Kids being caught in between putting forth political stances and protests.

People making up things in their own heads about what I may think about them as a person.

I gave up holding grudges a long time ago, because the only person that they hurt was me.

Unfortunately, now I see what people perceive me to be, not only hurting my acceptance.

It’s hurting my kids acceptance and ultimately my anxiety draws conclusions of diminishing opportunity for them in some arenas.

I step further back in the hope that cooler heads may prevail. Unfortunately, I see increasing heads turning away, mean spirited glances.

Minnesota Nice is a bullshit concept. It’s veiled contempt, passive aggressiveness, hate and a lack of willingness to get out of the f’in corners and dance.

I don’t mean fight or argue. I mean dance.

Unwillingness to make a fool of ourselves. Dance while the world is watching. Dance while we come to agreement on what it means to be a human being.

Dance towards a place that we all care about whether someone lives or dies. That life matters, that people matter, that without that as our sole focus that we are lost as a society.

Make no mistake, we are lost. Every single one of us.

I fear we are so lost that we will never find ourselves and what it means to be us.

I know I am lost.

As long as there is one person lost, I believe we are all lost. Because I believe us is a team.

Is there a solution, probably not. It seems like a permanently lost cause.

So, how to move on.

Do not doubt for a second that I will move on.

There is far too much at stake for the life that I share with my family. Of course at the center of that there is my wife and children. However, I am blessed with a very large circle.

The word “circle” has great meaning, because there is no corners to hide in.

And so I say to all of you, my family, let’s dance.

Participation Trophies and Perfect Attendance

I just read in my Twitter feed, “In real life no one gets participation trophies.” It made me think about a current or former NFL football player who wouldn’t let his son have a participation trophy, because trophies are for winners.

My mind continued to wander to a friend of mine who I used to give a hard time to, because she was so proud of her perfect attendance awards that she received from kindergarten all the way through high school.

I teased her because I thought it was silly to be proud of an award for perfect attendance. Who cares?

If you asked me a couple of years ago what I thought about participation trophies, my response would have also been, who cares?

Fast forward to my reaction to whether or not in real life do people get participation trophies, and my response when I saw it. Why not?

There is a quote that goes something like, “80% of life is showing up.”

I think that number is low, but ultimately the most important thing someone can do is show up. I would add a caveat to what it means to show up. It’s not about just being present physically.

Showing up is about being present physically, emotionally and spiritually. It’s about active participation and active learning.

Tonight, I was doing one of my favorite things. Coaching.

Our team was up 12-3 through four innings. They were “locked in.” As they came up to bat in the 5th the heart of our line up was at the plate. Add a few more runs and stop the other team in the bottom and we win by the mercy rule.

Our first batter, one of the most gifted athletes I know gets on base. One of our long ball hitters goes down on a few ugly pitches. Next guy walks. Next guy comes to the plate showboating and he goes down swinging, leaves the field and throws his bat prompting Mom to step in. I then observed what was going on, on the bench.

No one was watching as we got our third out still in the heart of the lineup that had scored 9 of the 12 runs. I walked over and before I let the boys take the field I told them that they needed to get their focus back.

They followed up my request by playing their worst inning in the field all season. 10 runs score and now their down by one. The middle of the order manages to score a single run to tie the game, but instead of a double steal on a passed ball the runners weren’t paying attention leaving a force out to end the inning.

The other team managed to get one across in the bottom of the last inning to win 14-13.

So yes, I think participation trophies are okay. As long as its active participation. We can’t afford to just show up, because if we aren’t focused when we are there everything and everyone will pass us by.

In real life we might not get an actual trophy for participation, but we are surely not going to get rewarded if we don’t show up at all.

Thank You Pastor Karen

I generally do not do research for my personal blog posts, but took a minute (maybe less) for this one to look up the word Pastor.  I had to look it up because I was curious to see if the definition covered being one’s best friend.

The following shows up as the first listing in my extensive research, a Google search on the word Pastor:



noun: pastor; plural noun: pastors
a minister in charge of a Christian church or congregation
verb: pastor; 3rd person present: pastors; past tense: pastored; past participle: pastored; gerund or present participle: pastoring
be pastor of (a church or congregation)

late Middle English: from Anglo-Norman French pastour, from Latin pastor ‘shepherd’, from past- ‘fed, grazed’, from the verb pascere .

I really did expect that friend or best friend would possibly be the primary definition. That is what my five year old daughter, Ruth, continues to call Pastor Karen Bruins when she asks if we are going to go see her new church.  The answer is yes we will go see her.

Our Pastor, Pastor Karen Bruins, left The Well in Rosemount, MN and moved on to Lake Harriet Church in the last couple of weeks. Besides being Ruth’s best friend she did fulfill the origin of the word Pastor as my shepherd in rediscovering my own faith, bringing my 11-year old son closer to God and Jesus and I firmly believe in guiding us to preserve the foundation of our family together during some of our rockiest times.

Karen was preaching the day our family decided to start going to church together to help us deal with a difficult time. While I was definitely pessimistic about the impact attending church would have on us at the time, I am thankful every day that we found Karen at the Rosemount United Methodist Church, as it was known then.

The church as a community provided much needed time for reflection at the time. Reflection is something that I do daily now, but without The Well I doubt that I would be doing it at all.

We were barely known at the church and Graham was not sure about the whole youth programming thing and didn’t want to be away from us so he would go to services with us.  He rarely sat with us though and instead would go sit with Karen in the front row, who at first I am sure hardly knew who this kid was.  Graham never referred to Karen as his best friend like Ruth does, but he did wear his Boston Bruins t-shirt to church more often than any other clothing. Karen had to get a picture with him the first time he wore it and I think he would have taken that picture every time he wore it.

Eventually, Graham did start going to youth programming and actually all the way through to not having the option for youth programming on Sundays and having to go to services with Mom and Dad. We don’t make every Sunday, but we made sure we were there on Karen’s last day.

While we had known for some time about Karen moving on, I chose not to tell Ruth until the night before her last service. Ruth as expected started to cry and the first words she said as she cried was, “But she’s my best friend.”  Once she knew Karen would be close enough to visit and that we would be able to see her before she left she fell asleep.

The following day at service the line to hug Karen was long and given the amount of patience that runs in the whole family, relatively little, we decided to find another time to see Karen.  It required pulling Ruth out of preschool and Graham out of middle school for a couple of hours, but we made it happen.

She sat and talked with the kids and my heart smiled while all the memories flowed.

From day one of me being pessimistic about church, to the hours I spent playing with the kids in the church community at Kids Camp to being invited to be part of the Wednesday night senior high programming.

I thought about Karen sharing all the stories of her kids, her dogs, her husband and all the memories of the babies she talked about baptizing.  I could see her clear as day carrying the baby and handing the baby off to a member of the church community as part of the baptism. Then memories of her baptizing Ruth who made the decision to be baptized. Ruth’s baptism also marked the day that Karen reconfirmed my own baptism that to me was the moment I was shepherded back to God.

The memories of the discussion that led to my reconfirmation led to thinking about the time that I had spent with Karen in her office talking about my faith. I fondly recalled the invitation to share my story of my faith journey with the church. Then the memory of the last time we met with me sitting with her to talk about what I wanted to do with my own career when I was presented with some decisions. I was really looking for Karen to shepherd me down the right path, but instead she brought out what she knew was already in me.

I was then brought back around to her drive down to see me in the hospital in Rochester. She sat with Kim and I and prayed with us. She gave me my prayer blankey that I held on to with all my might as I sweat through the pain and didn’t really have any idea what the rest of my life held.

As I came back to the conversation she was having with Ruth and Graham, part of me was only momentarily inclined to be sad. However, I went immediately for being happy for everything that Karen brought to me and our family. I also know Lake Harriet isn’t that far away. Hugs and pictures soon followed and as we parted ways I thanked her for helping me on my journey, a journey that she reminded me was not over.

I headed back home and wrote the following:


Thank you for being our Pastor, friend (Ruth’s best friend) and for everything that you did to show us the importance of Faith in our lives.  You were there when we needed you and I know that you moving on only marks that you are needed more by someone else.

I value the time that we had you as our Pastor more than words can ever express.  My life, our lives, have meaning beyond what we could have ever imagined because of your caring and guidance.

I hope our continuing journeys will continue to cross paths,

Until Next Time,

Matt Feyen

Ruth and Graham’s Dad

Kim’s Husband

Follower of Jesus Christ re-established April 9, 2018


Being in Control in An Out of Control World

Howard Stern is one of the last people that I would have expected to hear something from that I would immediately want to write down so I would not forget it. However, in an interview with David Letterman he made reference to, “being in control in an out of control world.” While I never have liked the work or personality of either Stern or Letterman, the phrase captivated me.

Even after going through my childhood during the Cold War with frequent nightmares about World War III and the nuclear destruction of the planet, I have never felt that the world was more crazy than it is today. I find myself witnessing almost everything fracturing a little bit everyday. I find myself with more frustration, more negative thoughts and more ill feelings than I ever have before. I find myself at times being in envy of the teapot that gets to let of steam and declare only success as the result of doing so.

No this is not a warning that I am ready to blow my top. It’s more so an explanation of why I don’t have to, because of the concept that Stern pontificated about with Letterman.

By no means would I declare that I have found Zen. I still let out my share of steam, but it’s not a prolonged session that leads to exhaustion and even more frustration. Yes, I’ve had those moments and don’t feel immune to them in the future.

What I have ultimately found is that the context of control is what has allowed me to be much more in control than I ever have been. The moment of realization that I need to put more focus on the things I can influence and less focus on those things that I can’t influence was the start. The penultimate lesson being that the only thing I truly have control over is how I react to and feel about things. Everything else beyond my own emotions is subject to manipulation.

Some might assume that I have chosen to ignore or accept ignorance in order to achieve control. However, it is the exact opposite. My choice to become more in control is a decision to learn, understand and accept things that I can’t influence will persist as they are. And instead focus more on the things I can influence. As a result my emotions toward everything and everyone have changed.

Anger and fear have been replaced by acceptance. Acceptance that is based on based on the knowledge gained through seeking a greater understanding. Understanding of how I can impact, limited or unlimited as it may be.

As a result, my emotions are spent more focused on those things that I know, appreciate and provide me with greater joy.

Do You Believe?

Note: My message is for all in hopes that there might be something you can learn. The posts are written to my children so some of the words at time may be a bit confusing. This all started because I wanted them to understand who therefore Dad is / was. What made me the way I am and how I evolved as a person.

This post has nothing to do with whether or not you believe that there is or is not a God. That is a choice I believe every person is entitled to make their own mind up on that question. I am not pretending to be an authority that can help guide you down that path.

However, if you have been going chronologically through my posts, I have gone through a bit of an evolution over the past six months. I have gone from a person that goes to church to someone who feels part of a family / community that makes up a church. There is something about being told I was close to dying that caused some of this and although I wish it had not have gone that far, a large part of me will always be thankful I did come close to my end.

100% of me is thankful for everything in my life these days. Having my life is a pretty big deal.

I would say the biggest evolution is that while I still have feelings of anger, resentment, discontent and other negative thoughts; I know now that they are not worth holding on to and try to part with them as quickly as I am able. There just doesn’t seem to be as much time as there used to be for that.

Last year, after we got our family pictures done, I was first awestruck by the fact we were able to get the family together for them. It seems so difficult to do with everyone being so busy. I really don’t know how families, more than just ours, can allow themselves to get to the point where they are too busy for one another. I don’t think our immediate family even makes it happen once a year anymore.

When we actually got the photos, the first thing I did was go through each one to find all the pictures of you. Every one of those immediately got marked as a favorite. Every one of those made my heart so happy. Each of you with your cousins, aunts, uncles, nanas and papas; and in every one smiles.

The next thing I did was then to try to figure out which picture of the two of you with you mom and I to print to have in the house, use for our holiday cards and essentially represent us for at least the next year. As I did this, I noticed something else altogether.

What I noticed is that I couldn’t find one where I was really smiling. I couldn’t understand it. I thought I was in a good mood that day. I thought I was smiling in every picture. Some people might look at some of them and say I was smiling. However, from my perspective I looked angry, in almost every one.

I asked your mom what she thought and her response set me back a bit. She essentially said, “You don’t really smile anymore, there’s always something you’re angry about.”

It was at this very moment, I remembered a sermon from church. And this was before getting sick. The sermon was about forgiveness. The overarching message, was that people can not be truly happy until they are able to forgive others. Holding on to negative feelings is what keeps a lot of us from being happy.

As with much of what I do, I jumped in head first to solve what I perceived to be a problem. Several therapy sessions, a bacterial blood infection and hours of reflection later I still have work to do. However, I know I became happier when I recognized the problem and I become happier each time I forgive.

But I still caution to never follow a line of thinking to forgive and forget. In fact, I would argue that it is most important to forgive and remember. Remember that forgiveness is not about your feelings that are released towards others, but more about the feelings that take away from you and who you are and who you want to be. After all who doesn’t want to be happy.

If you truly believe in one thing, believe in being happy.

If you truly believe in being happy, believe in the power that forgiveness is towards being happy.

I am definitely a believer.

Falling into the Well – Part 2 of My Journey

Continuing from my previous post, as Pastor Karen stood in front of the Well family professing that we were there for you, being part of the Well family was important to me. Being a Christian once again had meaning to me. I had fallen into the Well, but felt safer and more comforted than ever.

Previously, I thought the name “The Well” was a bit hokey. Wells to me represented something Timmy fell in to and Lassie had to find someone save him from it, or where a young Bruce Wayne had come to discover the bat as his alter ego. I also felt the only time Wells had meaning is when they were dried up and empty, the discussion around a Well was one of fear, anxiety and despair.

I know now that the Well is a family and while one Well may run dry, the family will always be there. This realization came in the closest moment I ever had to leaving this earth. I knew if that happened the Well would be there for both of you and your mom too.

And while the Well is the name that sits on the signage, websites and pamphlets for our church…And while for the first time in my adult life I answered that I was Methodist instead of having no religious preference when asked at the hospital…

I came to view the Well as what it was meant to me. Family, a connection to a family that a man named Jesus is a part of and a family that is there to care for one another, no matter what.

I also realized that the Well, a United Methodist Church, in Rosemount, MN is a well that embraces all and welcomes the world. And while my extended family may not be members of the well officially…They are all welcome and they all make up the expansive Well that supports all of us.

Especially your Aunt Amy, Aunt Crystal and Aunt Hope have been an important member of our well as we have gone through the trials of the last six months.

I have fallen into the Well, but I have no feelings of fear, anxiety or despair. I have feelings of comfort, hope and a future. Check that, I’ll always have anxiety, but I like to think we’re becoming better friends.

I will not be trying to escape, to crawl out of the Well. I will not be telling people they need to jump in, because I’m not that guy…yet. But I want everyone to know it is there.

Yes, 2017 was a crap sandwich and we’re almost a third of the way through 2018 and I’m two weeks post surgery to wrap up the damage to my body that started last Thanksgiving.

But a week after Easter, I finally had my Thanksgiving dinner. We were celebrating Ruth’s baptism, but it was Thanksgiving with all the fixings that were served as the meal. I couldn’t have been more thankful about how far we have come. I couldn’t have been more thankful of the family that came to celebrate.

The next day I was headed into surgery, and I was scared from the moment the decided surgery was the path. And because I felt so had strayed so far from the church I asked about being baptized. I was not rebaptized,j but following Ruth’s baptism, I was given the gift of reaffirmation of my baptism. The fear I felt did not disappear, but I did feel calmed.

As I was being sedated and falling asleep for surgery, I saw the two of you with your mom as if you were standing with me and then as I drifted off, I felt like I was being submerged in water. Then I realized I was in the Well and I would be safe.

I am two weeks from getting up for the first time since surgery. That day, I went three feet from my bed to my chair. Today, I walked about a quarter mile around our neighborhood, passing so many members of our Well. I am so blessed, and look forward to our continued adventures.

My Race Calendar and Results

In 2010, I made the decision to get healthy and was inspired by Aunt Hope, Aunt Lisa, and Uncle Mike to run my first 5k. My adventure in racing was further inspired by Richard Singletary who inspired me to do my first sprint triathlon. I extended all the way to half marathons, but my hips decided I was done running and so my race calendar and results came to an unexpected end in 2015.

I still strive to be healthier, but am working to find other ways to do it.  You guys definitely keep me going.


  1. Buffalo Sprint Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 15:19; Transition 4:33; Bike (12.01 mile) 58:00; Transition 2:11; Run (3.1 mile) 45:02; Total 2:05:04


  1. Buffalo Sprint Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 13:03; Transition 3:52; Bike (13.3 mile) 57:07; Transition 2:34; Run (3 mile) 43:29; Total 2:00:02
  2. St Cloud Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 17:34; Transition 3:07; Bike (15 mile) 1:01:32; Transition (2:25); Run (3.1 mile) 42:41; Total 2:06:58
  3. Clearwater Triathlon – Swim (.46 mile) 20:16; Transition 2:00; Bike (14.3 mile) 53:18; Transition (3:00); Run (3.1 mile) 44:02; Total 2:02:32
  4. Big Lake Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 15:53; Transition 2:05; Bike (15 mile) 52:08; Transition 2:26; Run (3.1 mile) 42:41; Total 1:55:11
  5. Lake Marion Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 10:53; Transition 4:11; Bike (17.3 mile) 1:07:06; Transition 2:01; Run (3.1 mile) 43:43; Total 2:07:53


  1. Madison Half Marathon – 3:03:43
  2. Buffalo Sprint Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 11:37; Transition 4:19; Bike (13.3 mile) 52:40; Transition 2:44; Run (3 mile) 41:02; Total 1:52:20
  3. Wisconsin Triterium Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 16:35; Transition 3:55; Bike (11 mile) 49:09; Transition 3:18; Run (3.1 mile) 42:32; Total 1:55:28
  4. Big Lake Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 14:34; Transition 2:29; Bike (15 mile) 51:45; Transition 1:47; Run (3.1 mile) 42:52; Total 1:53:25
  5. Rockford River Run 5k – 37:41 (Big Brother’s First 5K – He Kicked My Butt)
  6. Lake Marion Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 11:14; Transition 3:16; Bike (17.3 mile ) 1:06:48; Transition 1:32; Run (3.1 mile) 45:09; Total 2:07:58
  7. Border Battle Bolt 1-Mile (Fun Run No Time)
  8. Turkey Trot 2-Mile (Fun Run No Time)


  1. Minnesota Timberwolves Runnin’ with the Wolves 5k – 32:50
  2. Madison Half Marathon – 2:53:24
  3. Buffalo Sprint Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 10:44; Transition 4:08; Bike (13.3 mile) 46:12; Transition 2:56; Run (3 mile) 36:46; Total 1:40:44
  4. Wisconsin Triterium Triathlon – Swim (1/3 mile) 11:23; Transition 3:46; Bike (11 mile + chain repair) 46:31; Transition 3:05; Run (3.1 mile) 39:23; Total 1:44:06
  5. Ripon Medical Center Triathlon – Swim (.5 k) 16:10; Transition 1:56; Bike (15 mile ) 1:03:41; Transition 1:57; Run (3.1 mile) 40:02; Total 2:03:44
  6. Rockford River Run 5k – 33:10
  7. Lake Marion Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 11:08; Transition 2:01; Bike (17.3 mile) 1:00:38; Transition 4:22; Run (3.1 mile) 38:46; Total 1:56:53
  8. Turkey Trot 2mile – No Time (Fun Run – Your first 2-mile race)


  1. Madison Quarter Marathon – 55:16
  2. Buffalo Sprint Triathlon – No Time (DNF on the Swim)
  3. North Mankato Sprint Triathlon – Swim (1/4 mile) 10:31; Transition 2:41; Bike (13 mile) 50:46; Transition 0:54; Run (4 mile) 39:24; Total 1:44:14
  4. Leprechaun Days 4-mile – No time (Fun Run)
  5. The One Last Tri – Swim (600 yards) 10:04; Transition 3:04; Bike (14.25 mile) 56:54; Transition 1:10; Run (3.1 mile) 36:59; Total 1:48:10
  6. Turkey Trot 2-mile – No Time (Fun Run)


  1. Rockford River Days 5k– 32:05 (My First Event)
  2. Dave Huffman Memorial 5k – 32:03
  3. Autumn Woods Classic 5k – 33:29 (Kim’s First Event)
  4. Jack-O-Lantern 5k – 29:55

Part One: My Path to The Well

On Sunday, January 28, 2018; I stood in front of a town hall meeting and shared my story that brought me to The Well. I was given two to three minutes, probably took five to ten and I still did not even really touch on all the details of what brought me to deliver that message.  I decided that for both of you (and all others interested) that I would share in more detail here.

The Well is a United Methodist Church, and my journey to The Well is about as unlikely an event as any in my life.

Until three years ago; the thought that I would attend church, much less become an engaged and grateful member of one, was the furthest thing from my mind.

However, your mom said I could join the three of you at church if I wanted to on one Sunday morning and that was the start of my journey to The Well. A journey that I know today will never end.

Why was it unlikely?

It had been more than 30 years since I attended Church on a regular basis. I had never considered attending Church on a regular basis during that 30 plus years. In fact, Church had become to me a place where you went for weddings, funerals, baptisms, etc. My memories of Church had become ones of annoyance, boredom and one specific event that started my 30 plus year hiatus.

My memories of that event, like many from long ago, are vivid. The words clear in my head as if they happened yesterday, which interestingly enough I am more likely to forget things that happened yesterday. The words echoed from downstairs and down the hall to my bedroom where I was barely awake. “Get out of (expletive) bed it’s time to go to (expletive) Church.”

Being 13 at the time and already had grown out of my dads’ clothes I had found my voice and responded, “I’m not going to (expletive) Church you (expletive) hypocrite.”

I immediately popped out of bed, locked the door and crawled under my bed. I awaited the door to be blown off the hinges and the dragging of me kicking and screaming to another Sunday service. Not even a footstep towards my room followed and only silence continued to echo with some occasional mumbling to my younger brother and sister and then the door closing as the two of them along with Dad left without me.

I had won. I was never asked to go to Church again in any manner outside of weddings, funerals, baptisms, etc.

Let me stop for a moment to share something I hope both of you by the time you read this know. Your Papa, my Dad, has changed so much and life is so different from those days. If I think about all he did back then just to make sure we survived as a very broken family, I am in awe of the way he handled that specific situation. I truly am in awe of how much you both mean to him and know how much he means to you today.

So fast forward almost 30 years and two face masks and a kicking incident in a youth football game.  Big brother was the offender.

The coach on the first offense sits you out a series, the second a full quarter and the third the rest of the game. In response you storm off intent on walking home. Your coach is yelling at you to come back and your mom heads you off and makes you come back. Your coach talks to you after the game about this game and similar incidents from previous games. The coach, with direction from the league director benches you for the next game.

I was the coach and the conflict, as much as we all tried, did not stay on the field. Our house was flooded with anger, resentment, anxiety and today; as I write this; the same type of silence and feelings I had as I laid under my bed when I decided I was going to take a stand (under my bed) and not go to Church.

The day after you served your suspension or maybe the week before, you’re Mom said to me as I laid in bed on a Sunday morning. “We’re going to Church, you can come if you want to.”

I knew it really wasn’t an option, unless I wanted to add to the negative energy that was in all of us. Well maybe not little sister who was just about one and was happy about almost everything.

So we all went. Ruth to the nursery, Graham and the rest of us to the service.

However, it was odd from the beginning. We walked past the traditional church with the altar, pews, and typical trappings. We found ourselves walking through a cafeteria where people of all ages were eating treats and the smell of coffee and sound of conversation filled the air. We walked into a gymnasium filled with chairs a up on the stage there was drummer, a guitarist, a pianist, a tambourine player and a choir decked out in not robes, but normal clothes.

We find our seats and then we are asked to stand. The music was not what I associated with Church, the members of the congregation were moving to the music and singing and clapping. I still wasn’t sold. The free coffee mug as a new attendee that we got didn’t close the deal either.

We got home and nothing really changed. The experiment had failed and Sunday’s would be mine to focus on football once again.

Then the following Sunday we went again. This time Graham went with all the kids to join in kids activities and Mom and I were alone in the service.

And we went again the next Sunday and Graham stayed and Ruth didn’t want to go to the nursery and we were all together. I had lost football Sundays and somehow at this point as we all sat together it was okay. I had no idea why, but it was okay.

Hockey season started and we didn’t make it to church every Sunday, but we still went when we could. I don’t remember the sequence of events that followed, but the events were formative and kept us coming back.

  • Graham started randomly attending service or going with the kids to do the kids activities. When he stayed he would hang out with Pastor Karen at times in the front row. When he went with the kids we picked him up, we kept hearing how well spoken and thoughtful he was.
  • Ruth randomly attended service and went to the nursery. She randomly would go with Graham to be by Pastor Karen when she attended service and at other times played with the silly putty, coloring books and other random items in the activity bag.
  • Then there was the first moment that placed me on my personal path to the well. At the end of a service, Pastor Karen would usually go to the back of Church and say her final words from the back. On this day she stayed up front and asked Graham and Ruth to join her. She simply said, “If you have any question about why we are here, we are here for these kids.”

That was the first moment I became engaged in a service. I also realized at that moment just how much had changed in our lives.

To be continued…

2017: The Crap Sandwich

Mid-December 2017

I am sitting here today with a back and leg that won’t stop hurting. They are the remnants of a bacterial blood infection that put me in the hospital on my usually favorite day of the year, Thanksgiving.

I feel between numb and nauseous most of the day remnants of the medication to treat the pain and to wipe out the remaining bacteria. Not to forget treatment for the side effects of the medication. Then there’s the medication for my usual ailments; anxiety, depression, high blood pressure and heart burn.

My Craptastic Crap Sandwich 2017

It’s been almost a perfect end to 2017. Let’s review how the year started:

  • A reality TV “star” was sworn in as  President of the United States
  • Cold War WW III flashbacks really have messed with my head and sleep habits

Those feelings continue to persist and the thoughts that come to mind are pretty consistently:

  • How do people fail upward?
  • The philosophy that most people get promoted to their highest level of incompetence.

Then the thing that I look forward to almost every year for what past two years turned to crap too. The youth football season was a complete bust. Even though you, son, and all the kids on the team said they had a fun season, which is most important to me, we finished 0-9.

But while the kids had fun, some of the parents on the team were not happy and I got the worst feedback of any coach in the league. I have four rules. Every one of the kids said we met all the criteria for the rules.

  1. Have fun.
  2. Be positive.
  3. Learn something.
  4. Hug your mom.

The parent feedback was that kids didn’t have fun, that I was not a positive coach, that I failed to teach and worst my number four rule was thrown in my face.

That was the feedback that hurt more than any other. As a member of the team was leaving the field with his mom, I yelled to him to ask if his mom was yelling at him for not working on rule number four. He said no, and I said, “you need to work on it finger tackler.” Apparently finger tackler was a bad thing to call him even though the kid was trying to bring kids down by grabbing a handful of jersey and kept hurting himself. The point of hug your mom was two-fold:

  1. Tackling involves wrapping up like a hug.
  2. You should hug your mom, because you never know when her or any of us won’t be there to hug.

I also had to deal with the fact that we live in a new day and age where we need to shelter kids from, among all things,being told they are fat. In the first week of practice one of the kids said to one of our big boys, “Get out of my way fat ass.”

The fat kid was starting to cry when I said, “So what, he has some fat?  That gives him an advantage that you will be thankful for some day. You need all types of body shapes to be successful in football. I have been fat all my life, it paid for a trimester of college. My little brother still to this day calls me by my grade school nickname, fatty.  You are out here exercising, you are doing you best to be in the best shape you can be. Not everyone can be the perfect body shape, be proud of who you are, even if it means being proud that your fat, but you still need to exercise and eat right.”

Three kids became part of the fat kids club and they were proud of it, but a parent overheard that and thought it was just the most awful thing to do to a child. Interestingly enough, the two other parents besides myself that were the parents of two of the three fat kids felt the season was great and for one of them who was having their fourth year of football he had the greatest season he had and for the other who it was his first year, he is coming back for more.  I also know that all of them were in better shape at the end of the season than they were in the beginning.

So what, some kids carry a little extra weight, genes are a funny thing. You work your ass off and strive to be healthier almost every day I am not going to shame that kid for being fat, I’ll celebrate it as an advantage. That is all I care about and I really just want you to be proud of who you are and that is most important.

Then there was other feedback that I showed up to practice late.

Yep. I was unexpectedly putting in extra hours at work due to a merger, but everyday I sent a practice plan to the assistant coaches and made sure someone was there.

Then there was the fact that I used foul language, but with one exception where I was very concerned about player safety I know I apologized and corrected myself.

Then I used the words shut up with my son and sometimes loud. Even though I received permission to use those words with other kids, I never did.

Then I was not using the positive coaching alliance approaches, except for the fact that I almost followed it by the letter of the law and tried incorporating at least one new thing every week. And, although every player said they had fun, they learned something, that the season was a positive experience and they all left with rule number four which I hope they remember for the rest of their lives.

I won’t go into the details of the mud slide incident, but lets just say what qualified as fun in the 1980’s has a smaller fan base in 2017. It also qualifies a coach as an embarrassment to the program versus being the best coach ever.  I did get that feedback as well.

Enough about all that jazz, I knew midway through the season that I was not going to coach next year.  Which some parents took issue with me sharing that with the kids as well. I only shared it so they knew that I was not taking over the offense because of our record, but because I wanted to focus on one facet of the game and utilize my assistant coaches better so I could watch my son play defense.

Son, I know you will excel in football as you have in hockey with a new voice at the helm. Don’t ever forget the four rules. Especially the fourth rule.

Football is not life and death, for that there is the bad things come in threes country song year-end of 2017:

  • Cheddar (our 16-year-old beagle) died
  • I left my job and got sick the day I got the LLC for my business
  • I was given a 50/50 chance to live and 30% chance of paralyses

A definite topper to the crap sandwich.

Time to Move Forward – January 2018

The year may have been mostly a crap sandwich, but there were so many things that brought me joy last year. Most of them come from the two of you.

Son, you had a great Association Hockey season, the families were a true hockey family and your teammates for the most part helped you grow more than any other teammates you had in the past.  Not to mention you boys took home your fair share of hardware.

The Association season was followed by a great AAA Hockey season and a baseball season that was amazing. You played most of the baseball season with a broken wrist, but you didn’t miss an at bat or any play in the field.  You even hit a home run the first game you played with your cast on.

Then there was  the great part of your football season, I loved to watch you play. You were amazing and my desire to just watch you play was another reason that I will be on the parent sideline next year.

Finally for sports, you ended the year starting another Association season of hockey with a great coach. Your team is truly a team and the hockey family we have is just as amazing as the one you had at the beginning of the year. They have been instrumental in making sure you have had a good season and so generous with their time, money, prayers and love. You also continue to grow as a player and as an individual. When your coach calls you a team leader I light up with pride.

Beyond sports, you continue to perform at a high level academically, you have blown me away with your clarinet playing and you have grown up big time.  You’re maturity scares me at times, because it reminds me how quickly you are growing up. The things you used to need help with that you do on your own make me proud and sad at the same time.

Baby girl, you have grown up so much too. You hit four (going on 40) this year. The world is yours to be ruled by you according to you and if you hit an obstacle you always try to move forward. You began ice skating this year (no hockey plans still) and are skating with kids that are mostly two or three years older than you. You have brought me so many great memories watching you swim, although I am pretty sure by next summer you will not be able to jump off my head as you continue to grow.

As we continue to grow as a family and individuals we have also found a wonderful church. The Well has been a great to us and I hope that we all can continue to grow with our family at the Well to make us better people.

Kids, at the end of the day; you, our family, our hockey family, our church family and our friends and your mom are there for me…and Remi (our new dog) too.  Your mom especially has shown all of her super powers. Your mom is the best role model you can have. Your mom is penultimate professional, nurse, chef, taxi driver, hockey mom, wife, mom and so much more. All of us are lucky to have each other, but without mom, I am not even going to guess.

Family, friends and love will get us through everything, including a crap sandwich of a year.



Older People Drive Slower Because They are the Smart Ones

It’s funny how being told you have a 50/50 chance of living affects how you view life in general. For me, the biggest impact has been on my driving habits. I drive slower.

I always used to complain about slow drivers and inevitably the majority of the people that I was complaining about and giving the evil glare were older at least in appearance. When I say older I mean senior citizens, the people that you perceive as closer to death.  Just stating facts here.

Right up until the day before I went into the hospital I remember both thinking and saying out loud, “You would think old people would be the ones that drove faster, because they has less time left and should be trying to do as much as they can.”

Well, being told you are going to die actually doesn’t make you want to go faster and get more done at all. Your life may flash before your eyes right before you die, but all I want to do at this point is slow down.  I want to relish every moment, every breath, every detail.

The fact is detail fades away the faster you go. Everything becomes a blur, flashes of light and streaks of colors. I have no desire to do that anymore.  I have no desire to go fast and get more done. I just want to go at a pace where every detail sinks in.

Your mom has told me more than once, actually more times than I could ever remember, that my attention to detail sucks. It is the pace that I had a propensity to move at that had a significant impact on it.  I moved at a pace that caused the details to become blurs and flashes.

I think I already may have mentioned that the hardest part of being in the hospital and not being well was missing hockey games.  It wasn’t just missing the hockey games, because even when your mom made it better by Face Timing the games, it wasn’t nearly as great as being there.

I couldn’t see your smile on the ice son when you scored your goals or went to hug your teammates.  I could see the sparkly eyes baby girl, when you inevitably would ask for a treat.  I couldn’t see that look on Mom’s face when she had to run to that late third period in a close game potty break that sometimes was baby girl just being bored more so than having to go.

Now that I am back at the rink, even that nasty hockey smell is awesome. The disappointment in the losses really isn’t all that disappointing. My appreciation for all the work and effort you have gone through to get to where you are son is greater. My appreciation for your mom letting me be by myself to watch the game in the corners while she manages you baby girl is greater.

Lastly, I drive slower.

I appreciate the opportunity that I have to observe the world and see things clearer. I know that I am less likely to have an accident too. I truly appreciate knowing that an accident could take me away from both of you.  While that day will inevitably come, I am definitely not in any hurry to get there.

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