My greatest failures.

                I struggle with how to portray what our life was like in Late 2006-early 2007 without sounding whiny or childish. I’ve talked about many of the difficult situations that we faced but we hadn’t seen the worst of it at that point and I think something inside of us knew that. I remember racing each day as if there were this unseen impending doom hanging over my head. I find it interesting how the human mind can swing so quickly from pride to pity. Looking back I know that many of the trials and pain we endured were at my hands, but I’m foolish to assume that I could have saved us from it all. I’d also be foolish if I thought I was blameless in it all. The truth is that I failed regularly and spectacularly, but it wasn’t all my fault. It wasn’t all my fault, but much of it was. The next few days are about that.

                A typical week for me at this stage in our lives looked like this: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday were spent working on the house with Jacob here during the day and the evenings were dedicated to intense sessions of video games. Wednesday I spent in the office at church preparing for youth service that night. Friday night Hannah and Lindsey and the boys would come from the rent house and we’d all spend the weekend together. Sunday morning I was dedicated to Sunday School and service. Sunday afternoon we’d scrounge up something to eat, and after Sunday night service Hannah would pack everyone up and drive back to the rent house.         

                A typical week for Hannah at this stage in our lives looked like this: She spent every day at home with the boys trying to raise them by herself. Lindsey was there and was an incredible help, but it wasn’t her responsibility and she wasn’t the mother. The parent always bears the heavier burden, as it should be. Lindsey did most of their shopping for them so Hannah could stay at home with the kids. Her only reprieve came on the weekends when they came to visit, but even then it wasn’t much of a break. She had to keep the kids confined to a single room while I tried to work in the rest of the house. We had no television and little boys with no interest in anything but movies. Sunday mornings were bounced between damage control in the nursery from the twins and trying to help serve in the student ministry. For the first few months we were on staff couples from the church would invite us over for lunch after church, but just once. As soon as they got a taste of the destruction that could be wrought at the hands of our little terrors that was the last time we were invited over. I guess word got out quickly because that only lasted about a month and a half.

                Hannah’s evenings were spent trying to get the twins to sleep and she averaged about 4 hours of sleep a night. She fell asleep everywhere and all the time, and she was embarrassed by it. She lived every day with a low-grade headache and started to hallucinate when she laid in bed. She did her best to manage it all and did it even though I was angry and short tempered with everyone I encountered. Once a week she spent time with the ladies from the ECI program. I’ve often looked back and wondered what the purpose of that program was. It was designed to provide early intervention with things like therapy and education, but it seemed neither of those ever found their way to our house. The essential thing that they provided though was understanding and a sympathetic ear for the woman I had left alone to fend for herself. God provided what my wife needed where I had failed so miserably.

                A typical week for Caleb at this stage in our lives looked like this: When he wasn’t in Claude with us he was with my Granddad. They became best friends and spent nearly every day together. It was a very necessary reprieve for Hannah. Caleb was a good little boy, but he was as strong willed as I have ever seen and regardless of how well behaved they may be 3 year old little boys are still incredibly stressful. He was our forgotten child. We ignored him out of necessity. When I was actually around my time was dedicated to the twins because they required so much attention. Hannah could not handle all three by herself all the time.

                Hannah told me a story this morning that I either never heard, or blocked out of my memory. One particularly difficult day something happened that angered Caleb and his reaction was to scream in Hannah’s face, “I hate you!”. He ran into his room, shut the door and stood on his bed screaming, “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”. She couldn’t tell me the story today without experiencing the pain of it all over again. As I listened I felt the urge to both go in the other room and discipline Caleb for something that happened years ago and just wrap him up in my arms and beg his forgiveness for the way I abandoned them.

                Hannah and the boys weren’t the only ones suffering from my idiocy. I slowly slipped into a deep depression that began to affect my ministry and relationships with people at the church. I wanted desperately to blame someone, so I blamed everyone. Maybe not aloud, maybe not even consciously, but in my heart I blamed everyone for the pain I was feeling and I wanted them all to pay the way I was. I made it my unspoken goal to inflict as much pain on those around me as I could while still fooling myself into believing that I was innocent in it all. I told myself and everyone else stories that vilified everyone in our lives. Then one fateful night I sat in the front room of our house with Hannah and Jacob and Lindsey and had a conversation that I will regret for the rest of my life, a conversation I sought to make amends for over the past 5 years, a conversation that changed my perception of the world.