Will Corb run part 2...

Corban’s cousins, Hunter, eight years and Hayden, six years, head off down the long gravel driveway on their bikes, headed for the road. Corb takes off on foot, running as best he can, catches a toe, lands chest first. I walk over and call to him at which time he gives me that look that I know to be one of pain and basically a cry for HELP! Little arm outstretched, palm facing out shows me the gray dust from the gravel with a slight nick from a sharp rock or two. Lifting him up I ask if he wants to go down the road with the boys. He nods affirmative. Off we go, father and son, looking longingly to the boys riding on the road. We get to where they were, but they are now further along the road, turning around and heading back to us they pass, and so we turn only to walk back to them and this continues for several minutes. I feel Corb rest his head on the top of my head, arms draped to the sides.

How often do we long to be where someone else is, but we just cannot seem to get there without a lot of pain and frustration? Quite often, I’m thinking. We see friends advancing along at what would compare to our movement as light speed, and about the time we get to where they were, they are further down the road. Maybe with our jobs or finances or marriage or family or our worship we wish to be further down the road, with friends, not playing catch up. How great is it to have a father that calls out to us, lifts us up, dusts us off, carries us on his shoulders to get to where we need to be. It seems to be at that one moment, that point of realizing our helplessness that He comes, and is now able to give us what we need to get further on down the road. Funny how often I forget how I got there and start longing to be somewhere else. If I can just be patient, He will give me what is right for me. He will place me on the road in a safe spot where I can be happy, where I can see improvement. The road is still gravel it’s just not where I started out.

So I ask Corb if he’s having a good time on the road, up on my shoulders, and I feel his affirmative nod, hear a sigh. He’s all good knowing that even if he can’t be what he wants to be on his own terms, his Father will help him get there. Oh, to have his heart everyday and to be able to give my Father the affirmative nod when he asks if I’m happy.

October 2003

Brian Herrian <'((><

Will Corb run...

For the past few years now I have been watching my son's progress towards normality. I've come to realize that one of us has changed. Either he has, or I have, or both of us have, and it's probably been the latter.

Will he run? Yes he will. Corb will run, that is. Oh to have his heart. He loves wide open spaces. You can see the adrenaline release in his body when he hits the open flats...the aisle of home depot, the back yard, the fields at Integrity park. He runs, headlong, out of control, characteristically with one arm out in front and the other pointing back and down as if holding onto the reigns of some imaginary horse, galloping at top speed. Running across level ground is one thing but uneven ground is another. Subtle changes in the hard packed soil are barely noted in my walk, but to him they hold skin changing possibilities. Scuffed knees or elbows have begun to form and yet he still runs, falls, headlong onto the hard surface, catching himself with his chest. Tears should come soon but instead you hear laughter. He's not laughing at the crash and burn so much as he is at the ability to just run. Un-encumbered (wearing braces?), taking great strides (tight muscled gait). He runs, not away from something but to something? To freedom? To Joy? To Pain? Not to pain, for in spite of pain, he runs. He runs as if to find something, looking for it, expecting to find it whatever it is. Runs, falls, laughs, picks himself up off the ground, doesn't look back, runs again. Oh, to have his heart right now. To have his heart that says no matter what calamity comes my way I will get back up and keep going for it. To have his determination that he will get the important job done. To have his resilience...face the pain and go for it again. To be free. Free from what people think and wired into what Father thinks. To know the heart of God. To have the spirit in you so tight that you try to communicate, the message but the message just doesn't come out in understandable language. To know with certainty that the Father is walking or running beside you. Could it be that the laughter from falling onto hard packed ground is because he is falling into the arms of the Father and I just don't see it? Could it be the angels given charge over Corb are also falling and laughing. Is that normal? If that is normal, give me all of that you have left.

October 2003

Brian Herrian <'((><

We fall down...

On Wednesday when I went to Dayspring, the after school care place, to pick up Corban he was surrounded by a gang of boys, as usual. They were doing more than just kicking the ball around though. As I watched them and listened to what they were saying, they were encouraging Corban to run, to kick, to make the imaginary goal and as usual when I come into the yard, I say in a very loud voice, "Where's my Corban!" to which his reply is to run a few steps toward me then spinning and running as fast as he can in the opposite direction, arms flailing accompanied by squeals of excitement. I chase after him and the squeals continue. He wants me to pick him up and I go to hug him. Mom says not to carry him around in front of the other boys so we usually walk out on our own but always hand in hand. On this particular day, there were three boys that stayed with him on our chase around the yard and as they ran they were saying, "Go Corban." "Run fast." and then as if planned but it couldn't have been, they fell down, in succession, mumbling something as they did. They were not making fun of him, they were making him normal. Every day I am surprised for some reason at the types of people who love my son. He will be just fine, no matter what happens. I have to start accepting that I think.

October 2004

Brian Herrian <'((><

Deep Healing...

A very precise surgeon has cut a hole in my boy's skull and has plans to cut into his brain...that sounds like the opposite of healing to me but that is what his goal is in doing it. Cutting deep through a hard surface in order to help start a road to healing. That's what God does in my heart, he cuts deep through the hard stuff and keeps cutting...all in the name of healing. And just like my boy who still musters a smile and bounces on the bed with glee when he see's friendly faces, I want to see God in all of this. My Father has nothing but love for me.

November 2004

Brian Herrian <'((><

Definition...

I work with two guys who are into definition. One, the boss, goes to Lifetime fitness every morning, same time, same routine. In his prime he squatted 720 pounds. Today at 41 years his knees won’t support that kind of weight but he could still put you inside a Pepsi can just by looking at his definition. The other muscle man is slowly covering his definition with ink. Tatt's are a part of his non verbal definition. Outside is strong. Inside is scared and insecure by definition.

Trimming the sidewalk with the weed eater gives definition. People who walk the path may not see what kind of effort is put into it but the definition is there.

We meet new people. The second or third question is, "So, what do you do?" That question is like the definition can opener. Does what I do define me? Seems to. Or are we just comparing our definition against theirs, to see if we match or is it for validation? "I'm an engineer at NASA." "That must be interesting. I sweep floors." "Wow, you must see a lot of dirt." "Yeah, it has its' moments."

Our parents, present or absent or unknown, gave us definition. Our childhood peers, coaches, teachers gave us definition. As adults we work around, through, or under our definition. Now parents ourselves, we give or have given our children their definition with a look, a glance, a glare, a shaking of the head in approval or in disapproval. Some definition given is like firing a gun into the night sky, not knowing where or how the bullet will strike the unknown target. Years later the injury is revealed or kept hidden still, giving off definition.

Jesus came into this world by definition that was given long ago. Still, it seems that it was hard for people to see who he was. Those closest to him physically and socially, his peers, missed his definition at first. Two fishermen by the sea, mending their nets and Jesus asks them if they wouldn't like a new definition..."Fishers of men? Hey, we'd probably have as good a luck with that as we have all these years fishing and getting sun burnt and stinging eyes from the salt spray. Why not, we'll give it a try." They were marked for a new definition.

What is the big picture in your world? What does that picture's definition offer as insight into your life? Are you stuck under a definition? Are you working around or through a definition? Look closely at the big screen of high definition in your life. Is there something you missed before? What makes the big picture a little more clear? Better reception or a higher definition...or both working together as a team on your life's definition?

I look back and I see defining moments in my life. Some good. Some I would rather not acknowledge. Then I look closer and I see something new...a redefinition. Redefining moments that have overtaken the old ones, giving life and hope and peace, and patience, and joy, and faithfulness, and self control, and kindness, and gentleness, and joy, goodness and love.

Jesus was one thing that is most important to us. He was Abba's child. He asked us to become Abba's child too. Why am I to be childlike? Because it forces me out of and into a new definition. Try sitting in chairs that were made for two year olds and not feel something different. Try a child's game and see if you don't feel like there is a change in your definition.

There is one definition that is more powerful than any other and it calls to us at this moment. By it we are made powerful though it may feel anything but powerful to our nature. By it we are givin the freedom to become who we are meant to become. To this one definition, all others give way to its' strength.

Am I willing to continue accepting this new definition day after day? Am I willing to find strength in weakness? Am I able to put down the weight that I've been carrying around and allow this single definition make me whole again?

By now there is one word I don't want to type and you don't want to read anymore. But by this one word we who are. We are Abba's child. Nothing more. Nothing less.

1 John 3:1
How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.
Thank you Father for redefining us. Thank you Father for loving us. Thank you.

Brian Herrian <'((>< May 2006

Home Depot 2005...

At the Home Depot this Saturday morning Corban and I were standing in line to check out, in the outside garden area. In line in front of us, waiting for his tall, fit, ball-capped, sunglassed dad to complete their checkout the little boy of five years of age and red hair stepped back and forth between the Coke cooler and the space between it and his dad. As he stepped backwards the wheel of the shopping cart tripped him and he sorta fell backwards, catching himself against his dad before landing on his bottom on the floor. He quickly stood up and looked up at his red haired dad who by this time was looking down at him and shaking his head disapprovingly, no smile on his face. The boy leaned into him as if to get as close to his dad as possible and said something inaudible to me. But his actions seemed to loudly say, "Dad? Am I alright? Am I OK? Do you still like me? Are you proud of me?"

By now the boy has moved on from that event I'm sure, those moments don't often last long. But then again, it depends on how the future trail with his dad turns this way or that. Those moments of unanswered questions get in line to be answered at some time. It could be at age 16 or 44, or 76. They will have their answer.

Thank you Abba for being the answer to the unanswered questions in my life.

Brian Herrian <'((><

The Giver...

This past May on the Friday before Mother's Day 2005, Corban's school teacher had helped her kids make a bouquet of flowers for their mom. The four large flowers, a mixture of pastel blue, pink, yellow, and purple tissue paper on fuzzy green pipe cleaner stems with just a spritz of perfume for effect, were a hit! Corban held them proudly and gave them to mom who made over them like it was the best gift ever. Truth be told my dozen roses to Beth paled in comparison to this handmade gift which still sits on the sofa table in the living room.

Several months have passed since Mother's Day and the giving of the flowers. I cannot tell you, literally cannot, how many times those flowers have been given and given and given and re-given to mom by her loving son. The prompting of the giving does not come from me and the excitement in the giving is high, sometimes even more than the past times of giving. I may be watching ESPN when Corban runs into the living room, grabs the vase of flowers, lurches back into the bedroom from where I hear a loud, "For me? Corban, they are so beautiful! Thank you!" Or I may get to witness the blonde headed giver grin from ear to ear as he dances in place and squeals from the excitement of the giving as he hands them to mom while she is cutting vegetables for a salad. The gift is the same and the times of giving seem random but the excitement is something to see.

I thought today of how my Abba has given me a gift, then given and given and given and re-given the same gift to me at what seem like random times though His excitement is the same if not more intense than the time before. I cry as I think about His grace given to me over and over again. I want the same attitude about this gift as Beth has for Corban's gift..."For me? It is so beautiful! Thank you!"

Thank you, Abba, for being the Giver.


Brian Herrian <'((><