The Push

This Week's Song - Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle - Ya, I know. I hate this tear jerker too, but Shelby and I loved it when she was a pup. Never thought I'd end up with two girls, but boy am I lucky. 

In the dawn of a new life, after a bold move by Nancy and I to marry and merge families after less than six months of dating, we loaded up our Ford Expedition with our four young children and new puppy and headed off to the panhandle of Florida. This would be our first vacation as a family. My children (Shelby and Andy) and her children (Cliff and Cori) had become acquainted during our whirlwind courtship, stood with us at our wedding, and lived with us during our brief time prior to the trip. We were slowly becoming a family. Kids don't get to choose, but I was going to do my best to make this an extraordinary family.

The Push

The SUV was packed tight. Bicycles hung on the rack attached to the back of the car as we made our way down highway 331 in lower Alabama. The drama and psychology of traveling with four newly-acquainted kids at the ages of 9, 6, 6, and 3 was a daunting task, and a magnificent and frustrating experience. Nothing amplifies the flaws in familial relationships better than an eight-hour drive with a beagle pup crammed in one vehicle, followed by 5 days in a condo. We knew the trip would be important. It would help forge our relationships for years to come. Nancy and I would exchange plenty of "What-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into" looks that week. Each child’s struggle to establish identity within a new order was apparent and something Nancy and I had discussed before deciding to merge our families. We even visited a child psychologist to help prepare. It was like preparing for a tsunami. Things had gone smoothly, all things considered, but the relationships between the kids were evolving. 

Shelby and Cori are the same age, but our daughters could not be more different. They had actually been classmates in preschool before Shelby’s mother tragically died and Cori’s parents divorced. For a child, divorce is a different kind of death. It requires its own adjustment and form of survival. Death and divorce must both be grieved and they must be accounted for in each step of forging on. Johnny Cash would say that Nancy and I had been married in a “fever,” but we were adults (at least we thought so) and we knew that throwing four young children in a stew and mixing them in could turn out delicious or utterly unpalatable. 

Tybee 2016

After a day in Destin, the seven of us went on a walk to a place called Jolee Island where there are swing sets, hiking trails and plenty of places for all to run about and get exhausted. When kids are that age getting everyone exhausted is an integral part of the plan.  As the kids were climbing on the playground equipment, Shelby posed the idea of a foot race with Cori. Shelby was the child who planned what everyone was going to do. Even at 6, she always had an agenda and was pleased to offer up the schedule for the afternoon. She also looked for advantage in every situation, like the time she would leave Cori a letter in her stocking, supposedly penned by Santa Claus. In the blocked and broken script of a child, the letter read “I saw what you did to yur sister. If you do it agin you’ll never get prezents.” This portended a level of brilliance I’m still grasping. Cori was sensitive, athletic and competitive. If you’ve ever had a sensitive and competitive child you know that wins come with a great sense of inner well-being and losses…well, they are simply unacceptable and a catastrophic event bordering on the end of the world. Cori was fast, Shelby was calculating. Shelby negotiated a head start which Cori graciously, if suspiciously, conceded. Nancy and I eyed each other with absolute dread.

Wedding day 2002

The race meandered through palm trees and tropical brush along a sandy path. We could hear their footsteps and Shelby’s giggles as Cori closed the gap. We caught glimpses of them in the trees under a warm Florida sun. If God has a favorite song it is the sound of six-year-old girls laughing and running. They emerged in a clearing closing on the designated finish line. I held up the camera taking photos furiously as they approached. They both held looks of determination as they gained on the end of the race, fighting as if their lives depended on the outcome. As they crossed and Cori claimed victory, Shelby raised protestations of cheating, “She pushed me at the end!!” she claimed. “I did not!” Cori retorted. I counseled the girls on the values of competition and their bond - the fact they had each other to compete with and talk to the rest of their lives. I told them the value of having siblings. They always cause you to try harder, to be your better self.  I thought it an unbelievable opportunity to impart this lifelong wisdom to two beautiful and loving girls and counsel Shelby on making excuses, especially in light of the fact she received a head start. "I did not push her!" Cori continued to insist.

Shelby is now 20. Cori is 21. Both are Juniors in college. When I toasted them at their graduation, I said, "To the father of daughters, they are always 10 years old in pigtails," but I should've said they are always 6 racing through palm trees. Each is an honors student at their respective college. Shelby is my spiritual baby, following her heart and her savior wherever they lead her. Cori was on four-state-championship-finalist soccer teams and is a social butterfly. They could not be more different, but they love each other as…sisters. They competed with grades in middle and high school. Despite their differences and the lack of shared blood, they have made each other better. They have been the best of friends and watch out for each other. They keep up with how the other is doing in school and in other aspects of life. As I write, they could not be farther from me unless they were on the moon. One is in Idaho, the other is in Australia for a semester. As far away from each other and me as they are, they are so close to each other. Their relationship is a great source of pride and one that will survive my existence on this planet. This is a meaningful consolation given my selfish and broken heart.

I sat down later that evening after the big race and looked at my photos from the day. The photo above is legend in our family. It is blown up and has had a prominent place in every home we’ve owned over the years. In it you can find the joy, the determination, and the competitiveness that defines my girls. In it you can find the very essence of my happiness. It never fails to make me smile...or cry. It is simply called, “The Push.”