“God often spends years preparing us for what he wants us to do….don’t be impatient with yourself.” – David Jeremiah

As I continue balancing responsibilities, embracing retirement, and feeling the older I get the more time accelerates, I’ve found myself more self-reflective. There’s an abbreviation widely popular on social media for those of you nodding your heads in agreement: IYKYK (if you know you know).

Contemplation and self-reflection aren’t unusual for me…it’s pretty much what this whole motivational ministry thing is built on.  But when a number of other factors recently combined with those above, including the untimely deaths of several close friends and family in a short amount of time, it forced what I’ll call compulsory introspection.  Already feeling like the hands of my life-clock are spinning fast enough to launch an aircraft, contemplation of my own mortality naturally snuck in.  

Let’s be clear…I don’t fear death. I know where and with whom I’ll spend eternity when my time is up. But I also know it won’t be until I’ve done everything God has for me to do here. For the record, I appreciate his patience with me; if I were God, I would have smote me a long time ago.

Looking back, I cringe over how much time I’ve wasted not being the man God intended me to be; selfishness, missed opportunities, squandered blessings, ignored promptings, distractions, and probably some derailed plans. But was it really wasted time, or all part of a master plan preparing me for where I am today? It hurts my brain to try and reconcile free will with predestination. In a horribly unsuitable parity, the ‘Which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ debate might be easier to understand. Master plan or simply God working all things together for good (Rom 8.28), I know everything in my life thus far, including some bags I still need to unpack, has been preparing me for this chapter of my life story.

Looking forward, I know some of what’s left for me to do involves continuing to help others by sharing the time, energy, effort, resources, experiences, knowledge, skills, and abilities I’ve been blessed (and cursed) with. I’m especially grateful for the many new doors that have opened to me at this stage in my life, despite a few others that nearly hit me in the backside on the way out. There also remains the more difficult work of confronting things from my past that may help gain understanding about choices I’ve made, how they contributed to who I am today, and how best to use that understanding to help others and make the world a better place.

Let’s start there.

You would think being the child of a local celebrity might position you well for admiration and success. However, that isn’t necessarily true and can present its own challenges. Yes, I’ve always been proud of who my dad is and all he has accomplished. And while a sarcastic reference I once gave in a speech prompted enduring jokes about being a big deal, my dad really is a big deal. Prestige and status are rightfully granted to him. But kids can be cruel, and neither of those were necessarily afforded me or my siblings. In fact, the celebrity status of my father, while great for scoring points with teachers and other adults, was more of a target for peers.

Random elementary teacher: “Oh, is your dad THE Dave Eddy?”

Me: “Yes.”

Teacher: “How exciting that must be…and aren’t you cute!?”

Random elementary kid: “Oh, your dad’s that guy on the radio?”

Me: “Yes.”

Kid: “Who cares…you’re a punk.”

Neither did fame equal wealth in mid-market media. We weren’t destitute but we certainly weren’t rich. Compared to many of my friends at the time, we were easily identifiable on the lower end of middle-class. My dad had offers to enter larger markets. He was even featured in a national radio and television broadcasting periodical in 1968. But as a humble professional and family man, his desire to stay close to our roots outweighed more money and greater fame. I’ve always admired him for that.

Seeds Are Sown

I’m blessed well beyond what I deserve and I own every mistake and decision I’ve made, so please don’t think for a minute what follows is me jumping on the ‘blame everyone else for my troubles’ bandwagon. I’m merely pointing out that, retrospectively, I can see how certain things have influenced some of my behavior, adjustment, and self-confidence. As a child I was scrawny, squirrelly, and occasionally a little unkempt. A kind and caring person who loved us unconditionally, my mom always did her best. But she also struggled with mental health issues, battling mood disorders and depressive episodes much of her life. Accordingly, there were times my hygiene and appearance as a child betrayed her; a visible timestamp of her low points. My hair was occasionally bedraggled (I was probably ahead of my time); my nails often untrimmed; my clothes and body periodically grungy. Despite feeling like Schulz’s Pig-Pen at times, neither my friends nor their parents ever made me feel less than (also an influence on my life). It’s both amusing and sad to look back at school picture day photos and speculate about periods Mom struggled. Most years not a hair was out of place and I was outfitted deceptively snappier than our income allowed; other years I looked like one of Henson’s muppets.

Add all that to being the punk kid of a radio and television personality, and it equals a fair dose of bullying and harassment. Only now am I really diving into the impact my past had on preferences, behavior, life and career choices, and responses to other situations; the most obvious of which has been spending most of my life believing I’m not handsome enough, good enough, desirable, or strong enough…and trying in some way, every step of the way, to prove that I am.

Next time, we’ll explore some of those steps, why some turned out to be ‘landmines’, and why most were completely unnecessary.

“When we come to the end of ourselves we are left with nothing but faith.” – Don Denyes

Get Strong. Be Strong. Stay Strong.

 ^{Miss you, Mom…<3}