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I am my brother's trouble-maker
 I am so proud of my brother, Mike. Three days ago, he and I (along with my new neighbor, Tarl, who appears to be up for anything) decided that jumping out of a plane from 13,000 feet was rational. And to make it more interesting, we tossed conventional wisdom out the window and opted to jump SOLO instead of strapping ourselves to the bellies of professionals. Now, we had to take a class for 4 hours to become familiar with jumping technique, flying technique, and among other things, malfunctions (all 12 ways the jump can go terribly wrong). I'll be honest; I was gung-ho for a solo jump until I understood that jumping out of the plane was the safest thing I would do, and even questioned the instructor on our preparedness for taking on such a big responsibility in our very first jump. He thought we were ready for it, but it was my brother who was completely sold on bypassing tandem for solo. That's why I'm so proud of him. He got crazy. (I'm so glad we got to share something so extreme together, bro. Love ya.) Thankfully, I exited, flew and landed perfectly. According to Jumpmaster Vanessa (who's jumped 4,000 times), "Sweet jump, dude!"  Things didn't turn out as well for Mike or Tarl. Prior to my jump (I went first), I soaked our jumps and chutes in prayer. I neglected, I guess, to be more specific with landing, though. (I can't help laughing right now.) Mike jumped, flipped and flew his way to 5,000 feet before deploying his chute, then floated his way down to 50 feet or so in nearly the ideal landing spot. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to "flare," what you do to put on the brakes of a parachute, and at 30 mph, bounced and skidded to a stop. (Still laughing. Sorry bro; it's funny.) You can see his landing here.  Tarl followed Mike's momentum in the opposite direction and missed the landing strip entirely. When he finally came down, it was nearly half a mile (or so it seemed) east of the facility and in the middle of a bush on the hillside. (Tarl, you earned some serious comic points with that one. Nice work dodging the rocks.) In the end, it was probably temporary insanity that overcame each of us as we looked out the small door at 13,000 and thought, "Yeah, this is a good idea." But we did something a very small percentage of skydivers, let alone the world's population, have ever considered doing. We jumped solo instead of tandem our first time out. I love it. It was an amazing experience, and I have to tell you......each day since I've thought about going back. God must have a huge smile on His face. I'm enjoying myself again. I love you, Lord. Always. JG
Living Free
 I'm going skydiving Friday morning. It'll be my first time, and unquestionably an incredible experience. But the idea of this venture into the sky has brought out some key points to how I want to live my life, and to what I believe. I thought about living on the edge, tempting fate per se, after Jeseca died. I don't think about that anymore. Instead, I want to show the boys that there is absolutely nothing to fear in this life. That, despite tragedy, life can still be fun, exciting, and full of joy. Now, my mom and dad have both expressed that I need to think about the boys. After all, they can't lose their dad, too. I get that. And believe me, that has crossed my mind. But I believe in an awesome God. If He has truly ordained my every breath, and if He knows the very moment I will die and go to be with Him, what have I to fear? If Friday is the day, then it really doesn't matter what I do, does it? I'm confident that He has much more for me to do here; to finish the job Jeseca started in the hearts of our two wonderful, God-fearing children. I want to teach them to live free. I want them to experience every emotion; every valley and peak so they can share those experiences and emotions with others and point them to Jesus. I recently read a story about Stonewall Jackson. It described the general as a devout follower of Christ; passionate in every area of his life; and fearless. His soldiers asked him why he was so calm in battle. "My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed," he replied. "God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me. That is the way all men should live, and then all would be equally brave." I want to live like that. God wants me to live like that. So Friday, I'm gonna jump out of an airplane from 13,000 feet. God be glorified. JG
Defining a Real Man
I went in to work two nights ago. It was late (10:30 p.m.) and I sat in the same chair I did nearly a year ago, at the same time of night, with the same goal in mind: Get the job done and get home to see my family. As I parked and approached the building, I couldn't keep from thinking about the times I went to work each night after spending the day taking care of the boys and Jeseca. It was such a strange feeling to be there at that time again. It's now been seven months since Jeseca died. The passing of time is remarkable. Completely unrelated, I learned this week that (based on the results of my survey) I write to an overwhelming amount of women (90% of respondents). What does that mean? Yikes. I also met with my friend and pastor for our weekly accountability session.....what's happening and what lies ahead. The topic of a "real man" came up. What is a real man? He was speaking at Point Loma Nazarene University that morning about that very topic. As we thought about it, he read a portion of a book that tried to define it. With every word I became more disappointed. The author defined a "real man" as someone with a........let me clear my throat.........well............a male organ. What genius! (People buy this book. Amazing.) I think a real man is something quite different. I was a jerk for a good portion of my life. More than most people know. But God rescued me from that life, and has taught me so much about being a real man; an authentic man. I think a real man is genuine. Someone who cares for others. Someone who serves. Someone who loves with his whole heart. Someone who's not afraid to love music, theater and sports. Someone who can face the storm with courage. Someone who fights for what he believes. Someone who loves God. Jesus is that man. He is the real man. I just want to be like him.  Here are two other opinions related to the defining of a real man. Quite a contrast. The first is from a site called theRebelution.com, founded by twin (teenage) brothers who want to lead their generation to Christ. They've also written a book called Do Hard Things, and are asking for support for their Amazon.com "Book Bomb" campaign. Check it out by clicking on the ad at right. It's worth a look. - Teen girls define a real man (great perspective from theRebelution.com)
- A (worldly) go from Men's Health
What are your thoughts?
My Survey
Well here's the survey I referenced last night. Funny enough, I had a chance tonight to do so free of charge. I'm curious about those of you who read what I write, and how you came to know about us. If you wouldn't mind answering three or four questions, I would really appreciate it. God bless. JG http://www.zoomerang.com/recipient/survey-intro.zgi?p=WEB227JH9CGURP
The Former Things
We're moved. Praise God for that. I can't explain how hard and strange it was to clean the house one last time and say goodbye. I spent about 30 minutes sitting against the wall in the living room thinking about the life Jeseca and I lived there over the past three years. Everything happened there. Everything. I looked to where the couch used to be and could literally envision Jeseca laughing with the boys; teaching them; reading to them; the time we spent together watching our favorite movies; and of course, the times over the last three months of her life when I would make the couch as her bed each night, rub the swelling out of her feet and legs, put on her ted-hose, pray over her, and kiss her good night. I looked to the kitchen and saw her cooking dinner for all of us each night despite how she felt. I could see her yearning for my help with dinner while I typed away at the business of the day; all I can do is shake my head at myself for being so clueless. I heard her laughing at the dinner table. I saw her making faces at the boys when I wasn't looking; and then the straight face she made when I looked up. I saw her watering her plants outside in what I called her "habitat." She loved her plants. And she loved her boys. Thankfully I'm a boy. I know I've said it before here...I've finished transcribing 4 of her 5 journals. I read a bit of the fifth again last night. Jes was never very good at pulling punches; I took a hit last night in the first entry, but regained form in the very next one, and I'm so glad I know how it ends. It will be such a wonderful book when it's complete. I'll be adding a survey shortly to determine how many people would want to read this story..... I need wisdom and energy so I can accomplish everything and maintain this crazy schedule we have now. The boys are in karate 3 days a week; ARTS twice a week; homework at least 5 days a week; and a dad who wants to keep his sanity via working out or anything else unrelated to boys somewhere between being a tutor, chef, chauffeur, and best friend. As always, though, God is amazingly good to me. I have my own struggles inside (don't we all?), but He always finds it worth His time to comfort me and help me stand on my own two feet. He's so great. JG
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© 2006-2008 Jon Graves. All rights reserved. |
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I am so proud of my brother, Mike. Three days ago, he and I (along with my new neighbor, Tarl, who appears to be up for anything) decided that jumping out of a plane from 13,000 feet was rational. And to make it more interesting, we tossed conventional wisdom out the window and opted to jump SOLO instead of strapping ourselves to the bellies of professionals.
Things didn't turn out as well for Mike or Tarl.
Tarl followed Mike's momentum in the opposite direction and missed the landing strip entirely. When he finally came down, it was nearly half a mile (or so it seemed) east of the facility and in the middle of a bush on the hillside. (Tarl, you earned some serious comic points with that one. Nice work dodging the rocks.)
