50--Selfish

Wonderful conversation with Nidia and Katie.

They both said wise things that express profound truth, and one in particular stirs me to write this entry.

Nidia said, "My children have taught me so much about love, and I think it's because you learn to love by serving. You learn to love whomever you serve..."

I don't want kids. I used to. In my early 20's I definitely didn't want children, then by my early 30's I definitely did. And I think about what changed and what changed back.

It's a massive commitment to welcome someone into your life, to whom you are bound for an indefinite duration, to whom you promise service at any and all times needed, whether or not convenient to your goals and schedule.

Lots of children call me Uncle. No one calls me Father. Because I'll be there when I can be. I'm there when I'm there. When I'm not, I'm off somewhere else being...there. I make music and I travel and I visit this family and that family and I give and receive love in so many places from so many people, but Fatherhood is about greater stability and permanence than this. Father stays.

On Father's day this year I felt left out. That's been happening more in recent years, but not quite as acutely as this year. I felt like there was something I was missing out on. I thought about the fact I don't want kids and it comes down to this: Kids would get in the way of the goals I want to accomplish. They would make it significantly more challenging to reach the levels I intend. Would it be impossible to build what I envision with kids along for the ride? Not impossible, just way harder.

And the realization that came to me on Father's day was this. I never wanted kids, then when I met a woman to whom I gave unlimited heart access, I wanted kids; I lost her and now I don't want kids anymore. Doing the arithmetic on that, it appears to me it was not just that I wanted kids--it was that I wanted her kids. And if I can't have her kids, then I'm not willing to change my life as much as it would take to have kids.

There are so many children in the world who need to be loved. May I serve in different ways? There's a kid named Jonah who lives in New York. I'm going to be thinking about him a lot in the next 30 days.

"Jonah is two years old. He loves Elmo, throwing his ball in the park, patting dogs and stacking blocks. And he is slowly dying..."

I'm getting ready to perform on August 27th at a fundraiser auction wine-tasting, organized to raise money and awareness about a rare genetic disorder called Sanfilippo Syndrome.

It occurs to me that music is a lifted voice. It's meant to be heard. And it should have something to say. May I devote some of my time and talent and energy to requesting that we support this family if we can and see how we can help them search for Jonah's healing?

Please stop by www.Jonahsjustbegun.org and see what you can do to help.

I just played a bus driver named Jonah in Dawn's movie. Why is this name coming to me again right now? Probably coincidence, God's way of remaining anonymous.

Goodnight, Beautiful

Goodnight, Strender