Emotional Constipation

Have you ever felt something deeply and wanted to express it verbally but just couldn't find the words? Maybe you've gone through a range of emotions but could not concisely articulate what you've been feeling? You've exhausted Webster to no avail and even tried that word dinosaur, a thesaurus, but your emotions still refuse to be defined? It's like trying to scratch that spot on your back you can't reach no matter how hard you try. Well, that's where I have been for the last six weeks or so and I call it emotional constipation. Quite the vivid word picture, huh?

Anyway, I've been reading this book entitled Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman. The premise of the book is that IQ scores and SATs do not accurately predict who will be successful in life. There is another form of intellegence, an intangible quality Goldman terms emotional intelligence that can better determine how far you will go in work and in relationships. Goleman suggests (based on research and evidence) that those who can clearly identify what they are sensing and experiencing on an emotional level will be better suited and adaptable to what they experience in life. This creates an emotional stability which will enable them to succeed no matter what life throws at them.

Now as a guy, reading and thinking about what "I am feeling" (written with a sarcastic tone) is pretty much like bamboo shoots under the fingernails or watching a marathon of Anne of Green Gables. Torture, to say the least. However, since I have been in Afghanistan, I have experienced a plethora of emotions that I need to work through. I find that if I do not try and decipher and identify what I am going through, they (emotions) just build up to where I am just sitting there with my mouth open, blank stare, knuckles on the ground, saying uhhh...real neanderthal-like. A constipation of emotions.

On a daily basis I wrestle with missing my wife and kids and praying I can make up for lost time, the reframing of my relationship with Jesus, the complexity of taking lives in combat, future plans, and the dynamics of military life to name a few. I want to improve my emotional intelligence and it seems I have been given an opportunity to do just that by trying to work through all these elusive no-name feelings. Not wanting to become an alexithymic, I have pain-stakingly hard soul-searching and name calling to do. So, I must continue to get brain cramps as I try to push one out...emotions that is, for my own mental and emotional well-being.

I just wish I had some ex-lax to get things moving...

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Blogging

I realize I am a late starter when it comes to blogging, I have a whopping two months under my belt. But I get the draw and even addiction of posting about the inconsequential and substantial happenings in your life that warrant a 'comment' from friends and the occassional 'anonymous'. Blogging is fun and impersonally personable, which is why I like it.

But, as much as I like the medium, I can't help think that all this blogging is really pointing to something else we could be potentially lacking...a place (or people) we can share the intricate details of our life with. I don't know if is is just me but I find I am more likely to share life's experiences on a computer than when I am looking someone in the face, eyeball to eyeball. It's easier to emote something and throw it out there on the world wide web indiscriminately, than to have that same life-sharing exchange with another person. Or maybe the difficult thing is finding someone (or a group of people) who you can be you around and they love you inspite of your idiosyncrasies, and you, them.

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I think blogging can be a form of community for the intimacy-challenged. I hate to say it but I have had more insight into others thoughts, feelings, and struggles in their lives by reading their blogs, than by living nearby them for years. How does that happen?? Has that been your experience? We have to find a way to actually live together in community and carry one another's burdens.

My wife has a belief that desserts taste better when shared with loved ones, a foreign concept to me who believes the pie tastes better when I get to eat all of it myself. Though we may differ on our philosophy of desserts, I think she is on to something when it comes to relationships. Life is so much richer when shared.

I've been thinking a lot about community. Here's some of my thoughts; how I see it looking: a small group of (families) Believers, offering and sharing their lives as they live out life's challenges together. They switch weekly whose house they will meet at (so at least every house gets a good cleaning once a month). Every week it is someone else's trun to bring their version of the best chocolate chip cookies, tea, and Starbucks' latest overpriced coffee.

Everyone shares life's true challenges, 'Should the kids be home-schooled or public school?' 'This job opportunity opened up, but not sure I take it...' 'We're having trouble with our 2-yr old, Help!' 'What's the recipe for this chicken? It's amazing!' 'We're going through a tough phase in our marriage, can you pray for us?' This is the good stuff life is made of that we need to share. The all important and not important at all.

Over the course of the evening, the activities include: a time of prayer and sharing, some eating, maybe more prayer, playing with the kids, all of these and maybe more but in no particular order. Some good jokes and stories, hugs and handshakes round out the evening. "Talk to you tomorrow" "We'll set a playdate for the kids" "Thank you for sharing your heart with us tonight" and "Can't wait to do it again" are the comments as everyone returns to their own house having just been edified, encouraged, and genuinely loved by one another. That's what I want.

Do you have anything like this in your life? Do you have a group of friends you are living life with? How has that impacted your life? Are you still looking for that community? Have you found it at church? Or does the busyness of life relegate your relational interactions to only fb and blogging?

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My Favorite Things

I have a random talent not many people know about. And when they do they wished they didn't.

Is it twirling and singing in high-altitude meadows, you ask? Yes, but that's not I am talking about here.

Wondering what it could be??? Well, here it is: I am really proficient at changing the lyrics of songs in exchange for lyrics that have to do with experiences on the toilet.

For real.

You can ask my wife, she will validate my claim (with embarassment of course). And actually 'proficient' is a bit understated. I believe the term Grand Master is a better description.

(Usually, that term refers to a martial arts masters who have achieved more in their respective art than anyone else in history. That is why I am using the term in this instance).

However, the song below is not from my usual repertoire and may therefore lack a certain quality and high-standard my fans (wife and kids) are used to hearing. Nevertheless, I wanted to lay a foundation for my impromptu lyrical skizzles.

I say all that to say, missing my family causes me to think of the things that they enjoy doing, and one of those things is watching (over and over again) The Sound of Music. And that gave me an idea. I have applied my lyrical prowess and changed the lyrics to one of the songs in that movie to incorporate some of my favorite things. (You have to hum as you read)

"Waking up at six, to yells for Daddy,
Diaper changes . . . No, that one's for Sarah,

Hearing my girls run to me when I'm home,

These are a few of my favorite things

Laughing with my wife as we watch the Office,

Raising a family and love for each other,

Conversations of love for our kids,

These are a few of my favorite things

When I get shot at,

By the Taliban,

When rounds go through our tent,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad

Trips to the park, me pushing the stroller,

Chasing the kiddos, 'Now which way did G go?'

Holding hands with the ones that I love,

These are a few of my favorite things

When RPG rounds,

Hit our vehicle, the blast is oh so loud,

But I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad!"

And there you have it. An instant classic for the Fulton household!

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Unlearning

I read somewhere that you are either learning something or unlearning something. Unlearning something is a more difficult process and usually takes longer. In fitness for example, they say it takes 3000 repetitions for your body to learn a new movement. It takes 3x that amount to unlearn and learn again. It seems once our brain is hard wired for something, it really resists giving that information up.

I am running into this unlearning problem when it comes to my concept of God's plan for my life. I had one concept in my mind (full-time ministry) for so long, when it seemed like my life was changing gears I was caught in neutral, just revving the engine. Could it be that my ideas of what it (my life's calling) should look like are completely different than how God designed my life to be? Could it be that my ideas of ministry need to radically change?

I know I am not alone in this. I know plenty of people who have had visions and expectations of what God was going to do in and through their lives, only to find things turned out very differently than expected. Maybe they were turned down for the youth pastor position at church; they got married and pregnant right away; their pastor had an adulterous affair and rocked their view of church leaders. They want to remain hopeful they will accomplish their life's work: missions in Africa, planting churches in Islamic nations, preaching the Gospel to the unreached and unloveable, reaching America's youth for Christ, and yet nothing around them points to any of those things happening in the next 5 or even 10 years.

So, what happens? There is a mournful settling for the mundane that happens in the soul. A spiritual complacency. Your faith takes a hit like a childhood fantasy getting burst, when you grow up and find out the truth. 'You mean Santa isn't real?' . . . 'I can't grow up and fly the Millenimum Falcon?' . . . 'Unicorns don't exist? . . . What about Ligers?'

But there is hope, my friends, and I believe it involves unlearning. As Christians, we talk about leaving our burdens at the cross. Our burdens can be sin, bad attitudes, our career, or whatever is holding us back. I believe our very mindset about what 'ministry' is, what it looks like, and who is supposed to 'do it', can be stunting our growth and keeping us from our destiny. It is these ideas we have had since youth or whenever we came to Christ, that need to be brought to the cross and unlearned. There are winds of change blowing and if we would let the very ideas and traditions we hold dear be willing to be sifted, we might find the possibility of God's purpose and 'ministry' for our lives right in front of us in a totally different way. A way that we can be at peace with.

Are you ready to unlearn with me?

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THE Question

One of the questions every man must answer in his life is, 'Do I have what it takes?' There are a variety of applications for this soul-piercing question, such as: Will I be a loving husband and father? If I was getting mugged would I be able to beat down the attacker? Can I make it through grad school? Can I accomplish all of God's plans for my life? Will I be a person my kids will look up to when I am older? Do I have what it takes?

I was faced with this very question, a week ago Monday in my first firefight. I had heard of gunners (my job) hiding down in the trucks when the rounds start zinging at the truck, too afraid to stay up there and fire back. I have read of the body's biological response to the physical stresses of combat which can cause you to urinate (or even defecate) yourself, and there is nothing you can do about it. Others' responses include refusing to fire, or firing over the heads of the enemy where there is no chance of eliminating the threat. I was anxious to see how I would respond, and answer that questi0n for myself.

We were out on patrol when over the radio came a call that two MATVs (military vehicles) started taking effective fire. Our vehicles (4) responded by immediately heading in their direction, my blood pressure beginning to rise. Then the calls got worse, "Our vehicle is disabled, hurry up!" "We just lost the use of our gun, we are sitting ducks! Where are you guys!" "The other vehicle is disabled now...you need to get here NOW!"

By this time I could see their vechicles were about a 1800 meters away. I was flooded with a wave of emotions and thoughts. At first, anger. 'How dare they try and kill our guys. Don't worry guys your brothers in arms are on their way!' I thought as we drove closer and closer on the winding bumpy, dirt road. Then a heavy reality check of, this is a firefight...I could die. Oh man, this is it. I am going to die on my daughter's 5th birthday. All my girls are going to have to grow up without a dad. And my soul-mate, my wife, how could she bear the weight of losing her husband in combat? Tears instantly came bursting forth as we were about 900 meters from the fight. Then a wave of peace came over me reminding me of what God told me before I left for Afghanistan, 'It's not your time.' Invigorated deep in my soul, and gaining my composure, I chambered the shiny 7.62 rounds in my 240B. 'Let's do this!' I thought while sighting in the enemy's elevated position and placing my finger on the trigger...waiting to give it a good squeeze.

For the next four hours we engaged the enemy while trying to retrieve our dead-lined vehicles and the soldiers inside. We were in a horseshoe ambush, taking contact on three sides from elevated positions. Pretty much the worst possible scenario. I had several close calls, having RPG rounds whizzing by both the front and the back of the vechicle, narrowly missing each time. AK-47 rounds hit the glass in my turret right by my head on the left side, and I had rounds ricochet off my 240 about 12 inches from my face! I fired back until I was black on ammo (all gone), expending over 1800 rounds! Then I shot 12 40mm rounds from my 320 (grenade launcher). When they were gone, I was handed a 249 SAW from someone in the truck and kept returning fire, until they enemy wasn't returning fire any more.

Amazingly, no one from our group, even the dismounts who got out of the vehicle to help get the soldiers from the downed vehicles to safety, received any injuries and no one was killed. The enemy's death toll was as high as 30 from that 4 hours (about 150 from the entire offensive), and they were continuing to pull bodies out of the buildings days later. One of the mud huts we took RPG fire from where I fired 240B rounds and 40mms at, they found only body parts everywhere.

When the adrenaline rush came down and I was able to assess what had happened, and how I performed under fire, I felt a confident strength deep inside that had not been there before. I had not wilted, lost heart, or given into fear when the pressure mounted. I was able to find an answer for the question. Some answers only come in the face of combat.

"Blessed by the Lord my strength, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers to fight."

-Ps 144:1

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My Princess

Happy 5th Birthday Juliana!

You hold such a special place in my heart. God told me I was going to have a girl as my first born when I was still in high school, even before I knew your mom. I had to wait many years before I finally met you, but you finally arrived on June 29th 2005. I was overcome with emotion when I held you for the first time, my daughter, my Juliana, my princess.

You have had to endure lots of travel in your lifetime so far. From NY to Seattle, Seattle to NY, NY to Kentucky and then back to NY. You have been a great traveler from when you were a few months old until now. I would take you anywhere. Making the 5-6hr flights from Seattle to NY were not easy, nor were the car rides from NY to Kentucky, but you always did it with grace. Which happens to be your middle name, Grace. As the years have gone by this word has come to exemplify you in your speech, your dancing, your artisitc ability, and of course your beauty.

Often times when you come up to ask me a question, I can't focus on what you are saying because I am awestruck by your beauty. I have to pinch myself and ask you to repeat yourself. You're just turning 5 and you are beautiful way beyond your years.

I wish I could be there to celebrate your special day with you. But remember the good times we have had together: going to Mariners' baseball games, trips to the zoo, sleeping outside in the tent, swimming in Grandpa's pool, adventures in the woods, tea parties, Barbie movie marathons, and late night stories with snuggles and prayer before bed.

You mean the world to me Juliana, may you have a wonderful birthday and know that your Daddy loves you very, very much.

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Home Away From Home

Growing up in Upstate New York, my family during the summer months would annually make the trek to the Appalachian mountains to go camping. We went to such places as: Nick's Lake, Lake Placid, and Watkins Glen among others. We always went with three other families and had wonderful memories of swimming in mountain lakes, singing around the campfire, eating delicious hot schmoes, I mean s'mores, constructing forts in the woods, and of course making various weapons out of the fallen tree branches. Good guy stuff. Fast forward about 15 years...

I am in the mountains again, in a bigger fort called a FOB (Forward Operating Base), sleeping in a tent, and I have my M4 Carbine with a 40mm grenade launcher attached to it, with me at all times. It all feels vaguely familiar...minus the s'mores. It seems funny how God can orchestrate things in your life together. Things you enjoy in one season of your life can set the platform for another season later on.

Speaking of enjoying things, mountains are kind of my thing. Just looking at them, not climbing them...just wanted to make that clear. I am in awe of God's handiwork. Being able to see the Appalachians growing up and the beautiful Cascade mountains in Seattle was an amazing priviledge. The glimpses of Mt. Rainier on a sunny day are breathtaking. Now I am smack dab in the middle of my own little mountain getaway. And as a 240B gunner I get to sit up in the turret of the vehicle and visually take in the mountain landscape, the villages, and the Afghan people...while I am scanning for Taliban fighters of course.

So anyway, for now the mountains are my home. My home away from home. Far, far away from where I want to be, but where I need to be nonetheless.

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