We leave in less than four days now. Our schedule has become a pressure cooker. The last thing I have wanted to do is type, but I need to put some stuff here.
Last week we returned from visiting my brother in law, Steve, and his wife Michelle. What a great time in California, so thanks for having us, Steve and Michelle.
On this trip, I read a bunch of books, but one that is really sticking out to me is a biography on that great hero Joe Di Maggio. He is remembered in songs (Simon and Garfunkle- Mrs. Robinson) and books (Ernest Hemingway- Old man and the sea).
What is sticking out to me is how we perceive heros, and because I am a Red Sox fan, I have never been a huge fan of Joe, and after reading the book, I think the guy was a total @#$%. We are taught to be fans of Ted Williams around here, but he seems like a bit of a jerk too. Just because they can swing a bat they are idolized. It doesn’t matter what kind of a man they are.
Growing up, I was a huge fan of Brian Bosworth (when I was in 7th grade, I had his Seahawks 55 and that awful haircut). I have also always been a fan of Mark McGwire. Says a lot about priorities. I am not going to waste anymore time on these guys.
I am reading a book now by John Eldredge, “The Way of the Wild Heart”, that I received from my brother Chris for Christmas. It is good to keep Chris in Christmas. In this book, Eldredge writes about the stages of a man’s life. From Beloved Son to Cowboy to Warrior to Lover to King and finally to Sage. This book has reminded me of some real heroes in life.
One of my heroes is my dad, but the hero I want to mention is Ken Ings.
Ken is the father of my best man, John, but before John and I ever become friends, Ken had assumed the role of a father to many boys in our church and our community. Ken is also the only man I know who has played this type of role for anyone.
Ken led the Christian Service Brigade in our church. This is a ministry where men teach boys how to be men. Our church no longer has this ministry, I guess for a number of reasons, but I believe Satan wanted no part in boys learning how to be men. Satan totally attacked our church’s men’s ministries and I don’t see any signs right now of future health there.
When I was too young for Stockade (I was 7, and the minimum age was 8) I would attend with my dad who was a ranger (leader) in the stockade (like boy scouts) and my brother Chris who is 2 years older than I am. I always had too much energy and was wild even for a boy of that age, and my first real memory of Ken is the headlock he held me in while he was leading the story time of our meeting. I believe this time was called council ring, and I am sure I was bouncing off the wall, but Ken calmly and gently put me in a headlock and continued. I remember I couldn’t move, but didn’t hurt, and even felt safe in his strong and loving arms. Wrestling and the physical touch was always something I thrived on, and Ken was a champion heavyweight wrestler in his prime.
I remember Ken holding down the kid we thought was the toughest guy around and really being impressed, because this kid was heading off to the Special Forces, if my memory serves me.
Ken taught us how to use knives, axes, and guns. He would bring us to the shooting range a couple times a month, to shoot at targets with .22’s. He taught me that I was left eye dominant, and after that I got really good. Ken would bring us camping, he taught us how to cook over a fire. He brought us canoeing and fishing. Ken taught us wood working, and leather working. He brought us on wild adventures.
Ken brought us to the Statue of Liberty, and during this time we were really into ‘icing’. I remember the long line, and the group of girls behind us that we were daring each other to talk to. I think they were impressed when one of the guys got iced. Icing is also known as pantsing, or yanking someone’s pants down. Boy was Ken patient.
In all of these lessons Ken was there and loved us. Unconditionally. Ken pushed us, wanting the best that we had to offer. I remember trying to memorize verses to get a badge and getting frustrated that Ken wouldn’t just pass me- I had to start over again because of one little mistake. Ken took God’s word seriously and taught us that also. Ken taught us that being a christian man didn’t mean cutting our balls off. Men were made to be men. Ken taught us that men were loving, committed, loyal, chivalrous, honest, hard-working, self-sacrificing, uncompromising, tough. If Ken had been unwilling to serve God, I would have given up on christianity a long time ago.
One winter weekend we went up to New England Frontier Camp in Lovell, ME, on Kezar Lake. We cleared trees to widen the road, and hiked in the snow. We stuffed ourselves and made the wood stove so hot it glowed orange, and warped the sides. We cut a whole in the ice on the lake. We all jumped in. It was so cold it sent one of my buddies running back to our lodge in just his boxers, swearing at the top of his lungs. The funniest part was he ran right through a church youth group on a ski retreat, really raising some eye-brows. When Ken jumped in, he just turned into a statue. That scared the snot out of us, because Ken was 7 years into his 15 year battle with Parkinson’s, and we thought we were going to have to rescue him, but he fought out of it, what a great day.
Ken was there the day I dived off a nasty cliff into Emerald Pool on Bald Face mountain. He had crutched himself in the mountain trail, 1 mile over nasty boulders. I was the life guard for our group, and had jumped into this small pool many times. There is one rock I had always wanted to jump off, but the pool was too shallow. This day was different. There had been so much rain that the pool had to be at least 13 feet deep at its deepest. So we jumped off the forbidden rock. While standing on this rock, you can’t even see the pool, because there is a ledge you have to jump over which blocks the view. That first jump was a beauty. Dead center in the pool, my feet never touched bottom. So I decided to dive.
With a huge audience, I jumped off the cliff and soared, chest out in a swan dive, which felt absolutely amazing. In the air, I could see I had misjudged my dive slightly, and shot through the water and saw a white flash. I felt the numbness in my body, and fought for consciousness under the cold emerald pool. I fought my way to the top, so scared, I could barely stand once I got to the side. I tried to pretend nothing happened, I didn’t want to panic anyone, but I could see it in their faces. I was headed to the hospital, riding in the old station wagon with Dan Berger. I would receive 5 stitches over my eye, and had a bit of a concussion. I am so glad Ken was there to see that dive, to see I was still an idiot, to push the flap out of my eye and tell me I would be OK, that he loved me. And I felt awful, because now instead of helping Ken down the mountain, I was going to need help myself.
I think that is the last real adventure we have had. What a great memory.
As I type this, Ken is in bed. He needs help with just breathing. He is ready to go home to our Lord. I will finish this, then go give him a hug. Not knowing if this will be my last time. Last time I visited, I dropped off the book “Endurance”, about Shackleton. Ken had just listened to the book on tape, and I wanted him to see the pictures. Ken said “quite an adventure”.
Now, I have to confess guilt. Ken was always there for me. I haven’t returned the favor. I have avoided seeing him, have been ‘too busy’. The emotions have been so hard. I have totally pansied out. Ken forgave me. He has always forgiven us, his boys.
So, Ken I need to thank you. Thank you for the adventure, the patience, the teaching. I promise to continue the adventure, to pass on the legacy you have handed me. To make you proud. You are a true hero.
Thank you for loving us. Thank you.
