Wade Long, Fathered Man

YOUNG ME

Present god-child count: 7

This is a bit unbelievable, to be real about it. These beautiful people range in age from under 2 months to 19 years old. (I sigh, as I deal with that whole 'being old enough to have a 19 year old godchild' thing.)
The eldest is the daughter of a friend I lost touch with years ago. I pray - not often enough, I feel - about her well being, the choices she makes, about the people in her life, about being reunited with her one day.
The youngest is a boy I see almost always. I steal every chance I get to whisper scriptures into his little ears. Call me what you will but I TRULY they believe they get deep into the fibers of his spirit.

I have no natural children of my own - yet. I joke (only a little) from time to time about my backwards way of refusing to have no kids until I marry.

My relationship with my own father - if you want to call it that - was interesting to say the least. Whenever he was around for the first years of my life he was great! The problem being "whenever he was around" only occurred once to twice a year, at most!

Not before too long he informed our family he was ill and would be passing on soon. It was then that he remembered me and decided to communicate with me regularly.  He and my mother had been separated for years and at 12, my mom left the choice up to me whether or not to allow the relationship to happen or not. ( No pressure there :/)

Long story short, I decided to communicate with my father, and to be strong with and for him.

Then he died.

I'm in my 30s now and I still feel the affects that years of fatherlessness must have had on me.  There are questions every day that I feel I need him for, as I struggle with allowing God to father me, along with the wonderful surrogate  "Pop" I have now.

On the godfathering end, I truly have no idea why these wonderful people keep choosing me to be the man who influences these kids and those God-parts of them so desperately needed. It was suggested by my youngest godchild's mom just yesterday that perhaps this is God's choice.  I honestly still have no reason why.

I just pray that something I say or do influences these dear people to do something fruitful with their lives, and if God so graciously blesses me someday with my own that I will have the courage to be man who I should be to them, and the father my seed so truly deserves.

Wade Long, Traveling Man

When I left Cleveland for LA some near five years ago with $11 to my name and a can of change my mother gave me I was certain I'd be back within a few months to visit.  I had this elaborate plan I've mentioned before to take over the world as I knew it. I was going to fly my whole family out that next Christmas, rent out a floor at the Hilton, and have a time we'd never forget! So when I visited home for the very first time this past week, flying coach on my first ever plane ride it was a tad different than the reunion I'd once imagined.

There was the flight, that scared me to the point of a near panic attack. (I'm getting better at handling my time in the airways, by grace.)  An unexpected five hour layover in Dallas proved to be an angering ordeal in and of itself.

My entrance into my Mother's home at midnight was met with her tears, followed by her laughter, followed by what seemed to be her laughing at her own indecision, whether to cry or to laugh. It was a great moment; one which made the discomfort of the trip more than well worth it!

The next few days were filled with catching up with great family and friends, pouring as much as I could into their lives with the limited time that I had. After all, I had been gently warned a few times before leaving LA that this trip to Cleveland was a ministry visit.

Finally came the day I was most there for.

It was Mother's Day.  A day we would celebrate my mom for just being the wonderful her that she is,  along with observing her birthday which was the day after.

I looked at my mother.  Relaxed.  Serene.  My mission was accomplished. I could return to LA now with a clear conscience.

Two days later it was time to come home.  I had held myself completely together until then (on the outside, at least).  Then came the tears.  I cried as I shouted words of encouragement to my mother. Then she cried, and I held her for a moment.  Next, Mom told me to go on so that I didn't miss my flight.

I believe God showed up through the radio on the way to the airport, as every infamous "goodbye" song from every movie ever seemed to come on. Laughter once again caused tears to subside.  I then cried once more as I said my goodbyes to my brother who had dropped me off.

An hour later I boarded my plane, a different man. A changed man. Wade Long, a traveling man.

Wade Long, Flying Man

If I'm a fool its not because I am flying on my fourth airplane ride in the past week. It's because I didn't always trust the God who has promised me protection and victory through and by His Word.

[Picture my present scene as I write.]

I'm somewhere between 35 and 40 thousand feet in the air, experiencing what  feels to be a small amount of turbulence; yet turbulence nonetheless to this rookie flyer. There's a movie on, one which I may indulge in, in just a little bit. The nice flight attendant just offered me "something to drink".  I'm actually taking real sips this time instead of the throat wetters I had taken on the 3 earlier flights. (Im a little bit proud of myself. Not just because of the sips but because I'm actually focused enough to write this darn thing. I pray I stay in this state and that Jesus increases my ability to do so.)
Like it or not I must adjust to flying.  Seeing my family depends on me flying.  The career I've been working on so hard, too.  Ministry does also. 

[I stop for a moment to think of friends who do this flying thing, seemingly without consideration of possible dangers, and neither should I. I marvel at the girl sitting next to me. I don't think she's been awake since we hit the runway, & I'm a little bit envious. Just a little though]

The girl I like flies all the time. I don't want to be the guy who doesn't do a thing out of fear that is perfectly natural to do, and thusly miss out on some good opportunities.

My stomach is more settled than it has been. I charge that to grace/the anti nausea medicine my oldest brother Terry brought me on the trip to Cleveland which began my adventure in aviation (see future blog for details :) /getting used to it... In that order, although if you think of it those last 2 are bi-products of grace.

I have one of my favorite songs (I Will Exalt You by Hillsong) on repeat for like the 7th time now. (No, I'm not joking!) Call me silly but I'm choosing to exalt Jesus high above even 30 thousand some-odd feet!

God has stretched my faith in ways I wouldn't have thought prior. No longer will pitching that tv show idea to a network scare me as it would have before this past week.

In a couple hours I'll land. Happily so. And somewhat melancholy; About the end of this visit, and strange enough, in spite of all the discomfort that was, the place in faith that God has brought to me through flying.

Wade Long, Homesick Man

When I left Cleveland for LA four years ago, I left behind the familiarities of the city which bore and bred me for the literal greener pastures of La-la land.

I loved my hometown. The rock hall, the convenience of family, and since I've been gone and exposed to a culture where some seem to feel a sense of entitlement to well... everything, I've grown to respect the blue-collar, tough-nosed work ethic that Cleveland has.

I was prepared for differences. Changes. Delays. Relationship strains.

But I was not your average fly-by-night, leave without a plan, and blindly shoot-for-the-stars dream-chaser. I was destined for success. The reputation of my work preceded my arrival.  A formality or two, and I would be the latest, greatest success story inspiring millions.

Then - ONE mishap. Not even my own. Just one circumstance in the life of a colleague, then a minor delay or two coupled by what I'll just refer to as some lapses in vision by some, a dropped ball here or there, and there I was - quickly - back at square one.

Next, were the acrobatics. The balancing act of maintaining present survival with not losing focus of bigger and brighter things.  Time somehow began to fly by in a struggling economy.  And with further circumstances beyond my control, I've looked up in recent days to what I wasn't prepared for.

Homesickness.

Now before the I-Told-You-So Chorale begins vocalizing, allow me a disclaimer:  I don't miss being at home full time (and for the record, LA is my "home" now ;). But yesterday was my fifth Thanksgiving away, without a single visit back in between.


The first Thanksgiving away was fine.  I had just moved 3 weeks prior. It was expected I'd be away for some time, so there was actually a sense of heroism in being the one away following his dreams.  The second year was a little trying.  After all, I was supposed to be in a much better situation by then.  Years 3 and 4 were tough - but after all, it was crazy to think it wouldn't take some time to get the ball rolling, right?

But yesterday and the few days prior was a wake up call for me. There have been births I've missed, surgeries, laughter, and most certainly... holidays. There was this stand I had taken; to not return until my career was in full throttle, until I had enough time and money to make my return all I had hoped and dreamed it would be.

But my scope has become altered just a bit. I'm fully dedicated to reaching every height in success - and more - that I've set out for. And I'm thoroughly convinced that an older and wiser me has what it takes to make it happen. But someday and someday SOON, and perhaps far before all my dreams have come to pass, amidst the smiles and warmth I've missed as the city itself a championship from a major pro sports team, my feet will grace the place which helped shape the man I am today, even if it is for just a day or two.

Word Symphony: A Collection of Poetic Expressions eBook

Word Symphony: A Collection of Poetic Expressions eBook

Legend of the Stone: City of Hamlets eBook

Legend of the Stone: City of Hamlets eBook

Wade Long, Older Man

One of the most favorite things in my world is working with the Social Justice team at my church, the Oasis.  On Saturdays, we go out and volunteer with other organizations, doing a number of unspecified outreach tasks; all culminating in the simplicity of letting people know God cares, and so does His children. 

Now, I must first off admit that due to some disappointing ministerial experiences in my past, Social Justice, for me, can be like taking medicine:  At times I must nearly force myself to do it, but its healing properties far outlast the 3 hours we all commit ourselves to. 

And if it’s true that these healing properties can be equated with penicillin, one of our most recent outings must have been an outpatient surgery, at the very least.

For the sake of time, I’ll spare the specifics of where we went and what it was that we did.  But I will say it was genuine fun to find myself 1 of 3 men in the lot where we worked, with a sledgehammer in hand assigned to the destruction of large pieces of wood.  The truth is it’s a stress reliever like none other.  And I found myself thinking of situations I’ve never had the opportunity to amply express my frustrations with, and had at it!

I thought about the relationship I was in a few years ago with a woman who swore she KNEW I was the man God had sent to be her husband - even to the point of publicly referring to her own daughter as my stepdaughter - just to tell me a mere 2 weeks later that she did in fact love me, but was not “in love” with me… And I swung the sledgehammer!

I thought about the less than neighborly citizen here in L.A., who recently took it upon himself to snatch my IPhone out of my hand as he took his morning bike ride down the sidewalk… And I swung the sledgehammer!

I began to think of my day job (referred to in an earlier entry).  And as I carried away a few of the pieces I had chopped into the pile we stacked I noticed a young man about 1/3 my age, with my sledgehammer in his hand.

I wanted to make him give it back, and I had a plan.  I would tell him it was too dangerous for him.  That would do it!

 … So after repenting from my selfishness I noticed I was truly concerned for his wellbeing.  So I began to stop him, anyway.

Then - in him - I saw myself.  I, too, was “younger” before.  And with my father out of my life, coupled with being the youngest of four men-children all solely raised by our mother, I was usually sheltered from all things remotely dangerous.  Loved, but sheltered.  Cared for, but protected; too much, in many ways. And because of that - in part - until this day I am frankly often afraid to try new things.  Now, I was an older man; still young, but somewhat empowered not to let the same thing happen to another young “me”. 

I looked again at the young man, now wanting him to believe more than all, that nothing was too dangerous for him!  Then, I nodded toward him…  And he swung the sledgehammer!

# # #WCL