Life – Adventure With Brendan

40 Years of Love

July 4, 2019July 4, 2019Brendan Scott

June came and went in a flash. But in-between, God moved. In the lead up to June I’d been excited about the upcoming celebration of my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. When they met they were kids, literally. My dad was in the 8th grade and my mom was in the 6th. When they married they were hardly adults. And yet, 40 years later, they have a beautiful legacy of love.

Love is what highlights our lives. Love is what stops one day from rolling into the next without direction or meaning. Choosing love slows me down and helps me remember to live in the moment. Maybe I learned that from my parents.

Because of their choices I am part of a family who is founded in Christ’s firm love. And so we, meaning my entire family (Katie, Michael, and their crazy five kid crew made the trek as did my younger sister Emmy), celebrated them in the best way possible, up in the mountains. The mountains are love. They slow life down and help us know how much we are loved.

Being in the mountains gave us time to gather around a fire and laugh as we burned our marshmallows. It gave us time to have deep conversations about our struggles and triumphs as we built a 400 piece Peanuts puzzle only to realize at the end that the box only contained 397 pieces. The weekend was rainy but we made it outside for the hot tub and zip line. Spending Uncle time with my nieces and nephews was amazing!

I captured Emerson, the youngest, crawling for the first time. I told stories with Breck, in the story he was born a T-Rex but actually a Velociraptor. I played games and built puzzles with Addi and Linc. I even started a tickle fight with Treagan. Because my parents chose to love Christ and love each other day in and day out, I am blessed to be an uncle. But even more amazing is how my nieces and nephews choosing a life of love and freedom in Christ.

As June was rushing by, Linc, my oldest nephew, asked to be baptized. The morning of the big day he joined me in the living room as I spent time in prayer. He woke up early, came and sat on the couch, and asked me to help him start a Bible reading plan. I love that at eight he is making choices to live a life founded on love. His baptism was beautiful. I love Lincoln.

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My parents’ love has given me the ability to love my wife. April and I are set to celebrate our second wedding anniversary on the 7th of July. We are off on an adventure to England, Ireland, Scotland, and Amsterdam. What an adventure! My prayer has been that this next month doesn’t flash by, but that God stops us, opens our eyes and our hearts so we can experience His love.

Love is not scientific and so I have no clear idea how my parents did it, but, I would bet it all came down to their choices. Years ago when my parents were younger my dad took Katie and me on a hike. I was a baby and my older sister was old enough to complain about how difficult the hike was. My parents hadn’t packed any food, nor brought any water. We were miserable. My dad, in all his wisdom, created this beautiful simile, ” Life is like a mountain. You just have to choose to get over it.” Katie stated the obvious, “I hate life.” Yet in love, there are times when it is difficult and you just have to choose to move through it. My parents’ love is not a difficult mountain, it is warm, open, and consistent, and it, like my favorite mountains, has stood the test of time. I am so proud that each day they choose to love even when it feels hard. What an adventure!

I am sure if you asked either of them, the 40 years came and went in a flash. But in-between, God moved.

My Little Sister

March 31, 2018Brendan Scott

Emmy is an award that we have won. She’s my little sister and she makes being an older brother joyful. I love having a little sister. It’s like having a built in friend who will join in on hikes, sit down on the couch with me and binge watch Psych, and stand up with me at my wedding.

Emmy is life and she knows how to live it. You know that’s right! I remember the first time I held her. I was nine-years-old and the bundle of energy in my arms had to be the most amazing answer to prayer ever. At age zero and a couple of days, I could tell her small hands and toes were just meant to be tickled. Her laugh and smile held boundless potential. Most of that potential was spent making me smile.

As an older brother, I thought it was my job to make her smile. This didn’t always mean being a goof for her, but sometimes attempting to guide her in the right direction. What big brother doesn’t want to help his little sister avoid all the bumps, scrapes, and mistakes he made growing up. Wisdom abounded and I knew I wanted to guide her along the way.

Emmy never brushed her hair when she was little. It was a wild brown mess. A birds nest. So I made a bet with her. Brush your hair for 20 straight days and if she did, I would have to pay her 20 dollars, but if she didn’t manage to brush her hair every day, I’d take home the money.

C’mon son! I don’t remember what I spent that 20 dollars on. My intent was to help her learn hygiene and I was willing to pay her to do so. Emmy was a grumpy Gus, but paid up begrudgingly, but no, I didn’t earn anything for brotherly love.

My little sister didn’t need me to teach her how to brush her hair. If I remember correctly, she started brushing her hair last week, or in middle school. I’ve heard it both ways. Anyway, she now has long beautiful hair and great hygiene. She wasn’t too apt to listening to my future guidance. It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t my job to guide Emmy and her true guide was Christ. He forgave my controlling missteps into Emmy’s life, thankfully so did she.

Emmy is a wild adventurous girl. As a kindergartner she went on a hike and started her adventure with Christ. As adventurous as Emmy is, Christ is even more of an adventurer. He did not let her go. After a wild high school experience where we weren’t sure if she would graduate He sent her to Guatemala. I never stopped praying for her and joy filled me when God broke through. She was serving the underprivileged in the third world. She came back a stronger woman and with a calling.

She returned alive in Christ and even more my little sister than ever. But even more than Emmy being my little sister, she is a great friend. She may have thought that she could do everything I could do whens he was nine and I was 18, namely go for an all-nighter with my high school friends. Face flaming with furry, Emmy stormed down the stairs. Turns out, she thought I was going on an adventure and wanted to join me.

Now. her adventurous attitude inspires me. She works as child whisperer at an in-between home for foster children. Her stories are filled with curse words, mostly the ones the boys at her home hurl at her. She is firm with them and I can tell that they love her. Maybe because she tricks them into arm wrestling and doesn’t take any of their crap. Maybe I did train her well cause she stopped taking my crap long ago.

I am proud that April asked her to stand next to her as her maid of honor because I know she is strong enough to have our backs. She is a hiker. A fighter. She loves boldly, is a faithful friend, and needs a puppy in her life, just like me. I am so glad I can call her my little sister.

My Older Sister

March 11, 2018March 31, 2018Brendan Scott

I’ve always been second. I am the second child, but that’s only part of it. I was the second to graduate college, I was the second to marry, but also the second to do a flip on the trampoline. That is what happens when you grow up with Katie as your older sister.

I can do a flip on the trampoline because I watched her do one first. I can run a mile because of her, because she taught me how to run. Without Katie I might not be married.

I love having an older sister. Katie was born on March First, 1982 and without her taking the lead I wouldn’t be the man I am today. One of my favorite pictures from when I was a baby is of her holding me.

I don’t remember her being an older sister who held my hand, but she would almost always include me in on her fun. Like in our backyard in Tulsa when we would turn on the sprinkler and jump on a slip-n-slide trampoline. It’s amazing that neither of us ever hurt ourselves on that thing. But just like any brother and sister injuries did happen and things were not always perfect.

Katie, or Katheryn as we called her when I was little, didn’t always share her friends. She was real good at suggesting I play with my own friends. This mentality lasted through my middle school years. Maybe she was just challenging me to be a good friend to others, like other people than her. Despite her insistence that I play with my own friends, she became one of my best friends. That’s probably because Katie was a big sister who always helped calm my fears especially when we lived in a dark basement here in Colorado. At age four I constantly saw monster tall shadows that reached down from the windows at night, but I knew I was safe because my big sister’s room was next door.

When we moved to Illinois, she helped me build forts and shared a disgust of the egg stench that came from our water. Katie has never been shy of sharing her feelings and when she first saw our new home she cried. She did not cry when we moved to Tulsa. She has always been strong and that strength motivates me to live in wisdom and courage.

Katie has always been great at offering that wisdom. Sometimes that would drive me crazy. Like at the Kirk on Christmas Eve, when she continually attempted to correct my public speaking. I was reading the story of Christ’s birth and about to light the Christ candle when she tried to correct me. “Katheryn,” I cried. “I know what I am doing.” I dropped the match and the carpet lit on fire. Laughter erupted and burned through the audience. I burned with anger, but now I know she was offering her wisdom and leadership. She only wanted me to perform well.

Katie has always had a good eye for houses and during our early years in Tulsa, she taught me how to explore them. Our neighborhood was new and as the empty lots behind our house turned into model homes we would go and explore them. We are both still fascinated by beautiful homes. Our friendship grew even though we fought. She taught me never to kick back at a girl even if that girl is stronger than you and is currently beating you up because she will tell our parents. Maybe I started to eat healthily and workout so that I couldn’t be beat up by my older sister. I am grateful no matter what!

Katie’s good eye led her to Michael. Her marriage with her husband, Michael, has taught me immensely. It has set an awesome example of how I need to love April. Watching them grow in their relationship has taught me how to love and pursue April. I love how she loves him and her kids. Michael has a real-estate company and it does not surprise me that Katie helps him explore for new houses. As we explored she provided love and a listening ear. She challenged me to keep my eyes open to all God has for me and this challenge led me to April.

She has trusted me with her kids which has fostered a true friendship to grow between me and them I think I would be lost if I didn’t have an older sister. I’m thankful that she has paved the way. First in birth. First in marriage. First in kids of her own. And first in correcting me when I have remembered something incorrectly. And I love her dearly for the sister and the friend she is to me.

Lucky Seven and One Month Till Our Not So Hodgepodge Marriage!

June 7, 2017June 7, 2017Brendan Scott

On July seventh I will make an unbreakable vow. When I proposed back in February the wedding date seemed to be forever away. Now it is coming up on April and me like a bullet train. This makes me more excited than anything, but still before we know it our special day will be here and that is a little nerve racking. Kind of like the massive migraine that knocked into me while I was at work today our wedding is going to come up suddenly, but not unprepared for.

Our wedding is going to be hodgepodge free because July seventh is a special day!

It is not just a special day for April and myself. Back in February when I proposed, I had July in mind because that would give me a month off from teaching to help plan the wedding and a month after the wedding to recover and I hoped for either the 17 or the seventh so that our anniversary could read: 7/7/17 or 7/17/17.

The numbers seven and 17 are special to me because seven is the number of completion and 7/7/17 just sounds good and then my birthday is on the 17 so obviously it is special to me. I mean without that date and that number I wouldn’t be here. Oh and 2/17/17 was when I proposed so I figured making July 17 would be a fun wedding date. Well, as it turns out July 17 is a Monday so that was a no go. But then April wasn’t sure she wanted our wedding to be on July seventh.

She was a fan of July sixth for a couple of reasons. Thursdays are a more affordable options for marriage and neither of us had any desire to blow up our bank accounts for our wedding. But I was persistent and wouldn’t let go of 7/7/17 and I am so glad that I did not. Not just because I am a huge Broncos fan and now that we are tying the knot on July seventh I am able to have John Elway‘s number in my wedding, but for an even cooler reason.

Shortly after our engagement April invited me over to her parents house for Dinner. She had been talking to her mom about potential wedding dates. I was sure her mom would have an opinion and throw a completely different date into the mix or say something like I think you two should hold off on marriage for another year so that you can save for the wedding.

But she didn’t do that! She said in Spanish that July seventh is a special date in her family as it is her anniversary and the anniversary of her parents. So with her blessing she asked us to be the third generation in her family to be married on July seventh!

Now that date is a month away and I feel like I have so much to do, so much to learn. Yet, I have already learned so much.

Planning our wedding I never thought I would learn something so simple yet so important like that my dad doesn’t know how to hodgepodge or mod podge and what the difference is between the two.

I know you’re wondering how this all came up, but I promise you that it came quite simply and rather hilariously. April and I have been struggling to figure out what to do for our guest book and about a month-and-a-half ago we were eating lunch at her library and I mentioned having our guest book be a photograph of the two of us from our engagement session with Becky Rice.

Somehow April thought I said that we should do a mod podge guest book because my dad knows how to do mod podge. So when she asked me again what we wanted to do I was confused as to why this item was resurfacing as I had thought the matter was settled.

She asked if we wanted to do a guest book where our guest left a cute note and then said she didn’t like mod podge. I said, “don’t you mean hodgepodge,” and she said, “no, mod podge because you said your dad knows how to do it.” Not quite sure what she was talking about I replied, “Um I don’t ever remember bring up hodgepodge.” This went on for about thirty minutes and broke down into laughter. It is my believe that she had a dream where I said my dad would do mod podge hodgepodge. She still claims it was a real conversation but instead of arguing about it we chose to laugh about it and decided to go in a completely different direction for our guest book. It helped that I guaranteed April that my dad, like me, doesn’t have a clue what mod podge or hodgepodge are at all. It turns out mod podge is where you glue cut out magazine pictures to a page or something like that and hodge podge is where things are thrown together haphazardly. So let’s just say hodgepodge has nothing to do with our wedding and neither does mod podge because April is classier than that.

So what I really learned through that is wedding planning is stressful and somethings can be misheard. It is best to give grace to your loved ones and give each other the ability to laugh when a weird disagreement occurs.

Just as importantly I learned about having a plan that way nothing in the wedding becomes hodgepodge. We have worked our tails off to have a plan for what we want in our wedding and how we want to pay for our wedding. Having a plan for your wedding budget is a must. We are paying for our wedding mostly on our own and because of that I figured we would have to go into debt. Debt is not okay. And yet I figured it was something that had to happen. But, as it stands right now, God is helping us pay for our wedding without going into debt!

I have learned the power of being blessed. Several friends and family members blessed us with the ability to pay for our catering right by the due date. I had no idea back in February how I was going to write the check for all the food, but yesterday I was able to place that check in the mail and for that I am grateful.

So I still don’t have a clue what God will do in my life and in my relationship with April over the next month, but I know that I am going to strive to be grateful for all of his blessings and act gracefully at all times. My hope is that my wedding is not a hodgepodge but a blessing of love to all who come to help celebrate the special day.

I know that when I give God all of my anxieties he will help my wedding come up sevens!

The Five People You’ll Meet At The Finish Line!

November 30, 2010December 11, 2011Brendan Scott

Who would you want to see at the finish line after a long race? I’m a runner and I’ve learned that just like in life sometimes the unexpected can happen while running. A running friend of mine told me that she loves running because she constantly sees connections between running and life. She believes it’s much more fun to run with a partner than alone and like life, it can leave you feeling empty but invigorated at the same time. Let me take this a step further, if running a race is like living, then the finish line is like heaven. Somehow I don’t think I’m the first one to think up this analogy, but run with me on this anyway.

For the last two months, I’ve been training for the Xela half-marathon. 13.1 miles of pure fun (I can’t say hell, this is a family blog.) I have now trained for 3.5, half marathons and ran two. I love training because it helps me set a goal and I run each day knowing it will push me closer the finish line. Yet, training is hard and this year was no exception. Fortunately the knee problems I’d been having lessened and most of my long runs went well. The only major set back during training occurred when my training partner, Yasi, came down with tonsillitis the week before the race and had to back out, which disappointed her and forced me to run alone.

Running alone can be fun. I raced alone last year and finished with a rather respectable time. But, like life, running is more fun to with other people. For example, try to play a game of monopoly by yourself, it’s no fun; trust me. And who really wants to spend life playing solitaire?

Back to running. Two weeks before the race, Yasi and I went out on the Day of the Dead, November 1st for those of you not up on all of the many Spanish holidays, and ran 11 miles. We started out around 8 in the morning, a great feat in itself for a day off, when I would’ve liked to sleep in. Unfortunately, both life and running require early wake up calls. It was worth it. We jogged out of sleepy Xela, to around 8,000 plus feet in elevation, making it back for 11 miles in around two hours. We passed small painted churches and cemeteries alive with guests paying their respects to the dead. Many of whom were littering the air with kites as if they were sending messages skyward to their dead relatives. As I pressed on, I wondered if the dead were up in heaven partying like they’d just finished a long and tiring race. (side note, if you haven’t got to a cemetery on the Day of the Dead you really should.) The next week I ran 12 miles in one hour and fourty-five minutes. I knew I was ready for my race.

So, early on the unseasonably warm morning of the 14th of November, I jogged down the colorful streets of Xela to the European style arches on Independence Street, which were serving as the starting line. Runners were jogging up and down the streets. Bouncing up and down to loosen their limbs. It was like a river of Salmon all swimming up stream in their bright bright yellow half-marathon shirts. As I waded down stream through the crowd of runners, which seamed to be much larger than last year, I still managed to find my friend Maria Marta. Maria and I had run a 10 k together a month earlier and, with an unspoken agreement, we set off together at the starting gun. She matched my pace for the first 10 kilometers, passing people when I passed them. Weaving in and out through the packed streets. Every time I wanted to slow down, she would either be right there pushing me on. It’s hard to slack off when you have someone running right by your side.

I ran all the way until the 14th kilometer. Maria had finally fallen behind. Around 12 kilometers in, we’d reached the Cuesta Blanca, the big hill on the race (it’s so big cars struggle up it’s slope), and she was gone, somewhere behind me. My heart was pounding out of my ears and my mind wouldn’t push my body any harder. I had no one to keep me going, except my iPod. AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long blasted me onwards toward the next water station. And then my iPod died. I no longer had any desire to go on. But I knew I had to press forward or it would be hours until I finished. I had trained so hard. I couldn’t let it go to waste. I walked in the heat. Ran in the shade. Pushing my self toward the finish line. Encouraged by my students who had come to watch. Each heavy footfall on the pavement brought me nearer to the end. From the Minerva Temple I could see Heaven, the finish line, and I knew I’d made it. Euphoria set in when I realized I’d completed the race. My time wasn’t what I had hoped for, but that’s life right? We don’t always get what we want, but we wind up at the end anyway.

Just like life, the best part of the race was when I had someone to run with. Finishing the race all by myself was hard. I’d like to say I didn’t finish as well last year because my iPod died, but I really think it was because I didn’t have anyone to push me at the end. I walked into the finishing tent alone and received my medal and Powerade. Yet, as I looked up from the finishing line, I saw people I knew. There was a girl I had gone on a date with, but hadn’t called back because she was crazy. Awkward! There were my housemates Mike and Denise, a few people from work, and several of my students. I felt very encouraged to see them cheering me on at the finish. It made the hard run worth it. And I think life and heaven will be like that. We will finish the race and see people we thought we’d never see again and it will make all of the hardships we went through worth it.