Drafts on The Unlived Life

Your flight has been canceled! How many times have we arrived to the terminal to be told those soul-crushing words. We had a plan. A ticket, even, as proof of the direction (literally) our life was headed. We had it all mapped out only to be told we would not be partaking in those particular plans. Has there ever been a more fitting metaphor for life? When we are young we make such grand plans. With nary a thought for cost, delays or an entire re-routing. We say such things as, “I shall never get married” or “I will have three kids, two boys and a girl,” with no concept of any interference. We boldly pronounce that we will leave town as soon as we can, securing a flat in a faraway country or a lavish ocean-front home. Dreams are free. Free of cost, free of reality. Free of the entanglements and strange twists of life. But all too often dreams get canceled.

We are just coming off the holidays and I always try to make a point of watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I have seen this movie more times than I can count; I even acted in the play in college. The older I get the more I realize just what George gave up. I’m sure you are familiar with the movie, but in a slight recap, George Bailey has big plans. He grows up dreaming of travel and excitement. In one scene he is purchasing a suitcase for his adventures. The first piece of luggage he is shown is met with a head shake, no that is not big enough! It will never hold the numerous stickers from all the countries he plans to visit. He has a life plan and it is getting out of his little town to see the world. Bag in hand he heads out to say goodbye to friends and family. But, alas, George never puts one sticker on that suitcase. It turns out he didn’t need the extra large one, or for that matter, any luggage at all. That life was canceled.

Do you have a suitcase in your closet for that life you never lived? Most of us do. Have you packed up a wedding dress that never walked down an aisle or put away baby clothes that were never used? Did you plan to finish college and got sidetracked by a baby? The move to Paris or Rome never materialized and you live in the same town where you grew up. The job pays the bills, but you had dreams of a career in fashion or owning your own restaurant. You thought you would go out to conquer the world, but instead you deal with chronic pain or depression and conquering the day is all you can manage. Or you were going to show your kids the world and everything you loved as a child, but they live in their own quiet world that you can’t quite reach.

Most of us are George Bailey with a life unlived. We did the right thing, we stepped up when a parent needed help, we held back when a child needed us. We pay the medical bills instead of booking that voyage. We take in a struggling friend or we do rounds of endless doctor appointments with our spouse. We put the suitcase in the closet and shut the door. Perhaps you made a series of wrong decisions. Invested in the wrong person, left when you should have stayed, stayed when you should have left. Either way you feel like George when it all starts to cave in around you. You look longingly at the empty suitcase and think if only . . .

We Make Resolutions (And Then Life Happens)

So here we sit in the foothills of the mountain that is this year; this decade even, and we are asked to make New Year’s resolutions. To write down what we hope to achieve these next 365 days. I can strive to write more, have less clutter in my house and find something to be thankful for each day. But the truth is I will forget about these small goals in a month’s time. We never talk about these aspirations in March or July. They are long forgotten because life happens. We move again, someone gets sick, someone gets born, we switch jobs, we age. There are triumphs of course. We meet the right person, we get a promotion, we start a business, we finish school. But the trouble with even achievements is that they fade. In It’s a Wonderful Life, George has wonderful things happen. He marries a lovely woman, has four children, helps countless friends, grows the business and supports his country during wartime. He is a beloved pillar of his community.

I do not for one minute think, if George had left town that day and taken his trip, we wouldn’t be having this same discussion—it would just be in reverse. He would have traveled, but never found, say, love or real meaning. He would see the world, but have no sense of home. We humans are genius at longing for what we do not have. If it wasn’t that thing, it would be another. I’m easily tricked into thinking, if I had what I wanted, than I wouldn’t want what I have now. That if I had gotten on that “flight,” I would be happier somehow. I would have a wonderful life. But it is a lie. If we travel, we long for home. If we are secure, we want adventure. If we have responsibilities, we want none and if we have none, we ache for them. We are funny, fickle creatures. Always chasing something. Always wanting more . . . or less.

We are always chasing something.

Always wanting more … or less

We all have suitcases in our closets

I can tell you my perfect life as I’m sure you can tell me yours. We are told the trick is balance. But we can’t, no matter how hard we try, stay in balance; we just hit it once and while, on the way to being out of balance. I’m all for being mindful and intentional. Make New Year’s goals; I did! But what the Bible says in Philippians 4: 11-13 is true; we must learn to be content in whatever state we find ourselves—in plenty and in need. I’m always in both these spots in various parts of my life. Flush with friendships, but struggling at work or dry spiritually but in good health. The life I wanted is not this. How could it be? I long for balance, for perfection and something is always out of sync.

If I could make it all work, I would not need a Savior. My goals are sweet, but small. They speak to the here and now which will never, ever be enough. I can have the best marriage, kids, job, vacations and it would not come close to being enough. One of the greatest blessings in my life are friends, as dear as sisters, and family I enjoy like friends, but it is only a taste of what I long for. Achieving dreams is amazing. I met a goal of getting over 100 pieces published and it was rather exciting and a feather in my cap; but it does not give my soul purpose, it is merely a feather, ornamental. I very much wanted our unique little house with the wall of windows and mid-century modern fixtures, but I have to be very careful not to complain about its lack of a second bathroom and doors that don’t close tight. Opening our own business was exciting, but at the end of the day, it’s a job, and a hard job at that. All the dreams that do come true are still not enough.

God knew it would never be enough. Our bodies were not designed to die, but to live. Our hearts were not created for envy and longing, but for a perfect, complete love. Our minds are meant for good, for edifying thoughts, not negative and evil imaginings. We use our liberty to create bad as well as good. We are victims of others’ free will and they are our tragedies, as well. So thus the world goes: broken, lost, and hurting even in the best of circumstances. The Bible teaches us to control our thought life, to think on things that are good and lovely; not because we will necessarily manifest a better life that way, but because we will need this discipline to navigate life. (Read about this in Philippians 4:6-8) It is a bumpy road. Sometimes the plane leaves on time and we get upgraded to first class and life looks good; but other times we have to sleep in the airport, just to find out we are seated next to a fussy toddler (who is oftentimes our own!).

This post is not about how we miss one flight to make another, different but better excursion. Our lives are a lot of canceled trips, lost tickets, sick on Christmas Day, missed opportunities and so forth. And in many ways we just miss out. But we are mostly nearsighted. We look at the life unlived and we mourn, while God sees eternity, knowing the end from the beginning. He knows our hurts and our disappointments, He is farsighted! Where we see loss, hurts and failures; He sees the refining of our souls. He knows we are pilgrims, just passing through. As it turns out we didn’t miss the flight at all, we are still waiting to board. It’s a bit of a delay, so we set about doing things, having families, working that job, putting our hearts into a ministry . . . all while we wait to live our (yet) unlived life.

Do you find yourself longing for an unlived life this side of eternity?

Have you considered that even if you had that dream life it would still never be enough? Can you think of some examples of people who have it “all” and still struggle?

What can you do to keep your focus on the things that are “good and lovely"?

The Christmas Dress

This post is different than my regular writing. I’m actually sharing a short story (under a different title) that I wrote for a lovely girl’s magazine called Brio. I wrote this piece last year for the December issue and now that I own the rights to the story again, I’m free to share it here. Its just a simple little story that was inspired by my beautiful cousin, Kelsey (but she has great taste in bridesmaids’ dresses).

The Christmas Dress

by Emily Downs

Leave it to her brother to ruin Christmas. Sabina stared in the full-length mirror at her red and green plaid dress with a giant velvet black bow at the back, added for good measure. She looked and felt like she was twelve instead of almost fifteen, her next birthday.

Her mom rushed into the room, “Oh Sabina! You look beautiful.”

“Of course, you would say that! I look like I am starring in a Christmas play of Little Women.”          

Mom walked up behind her, “My own little Jo March.”

Sabina spun around. “Mom, I can’t be seen in this. Why do I even have to be in the wedding?”

“It’s an honor to be asked and Delia wanted you and your sister to be a part. I think it was very sweet of her.”

So sweet, Sabina fumed in her head, to dress her like a colonial girl. Not to mention she was now wearing a matching dress with Samantha, her 10-year-old sister, who could not be more annoyingly thrilled about the forced twin outfits.

Sam ran into the room all bouncy ribbons and bows. “Look at us, we look the same.”                                                                                                                               

“My dream come true,” Sabina said dryly.

Sarcasm was lost on Sam and she beamed.   

Mom gave her a look. “Sabina, I want you to remember that this day is not about you. You are a bridesmaid for your brother and Delia, this day is for them.”

“I’m doing it aren’t I? I’m in this dress.” She picked up the plaid dress with disgust, holding it out.

“Your heart isn’t right,” said Mom flatly.

“I can’t make myself like this dress.”

“I’m not asking you to like the dress, but the attitude with which you do things counts just as much as actually doing them.”

Sabina sighed loudly and looked away.

“You know, daughter,” Mom lowered her voice, “The Lord tells us in his Word that He doesn’t look at the outward appearance, but at our hearts. Anybody can go through the motions, but doing it with a loving attitude, that is what pleases God.”

Sabina shrugged, “As long as I’m doing it, what’s it matter?”

 Mom touched her shoulder, “You have the chance to bless other people with your attitude, don’t miss out on that today.”   

Sam spilled her juice and mom leaped to action to save the dress from a juice stain, which Sabina secretly thought, couldn’t make the dress any worse. She was glad Mom’s attention was off her for a while; she didn’t need a lecture in a good attitude. The pictures would end up all over social media and her whole school would be able to see her humiliation. Nobody seemed to care about that.

She stomped off to the bathroom. Pushing open the door she heard crying. Delia was sitting at one of the vanities crying. Sabina wanted to quietly back out of the room, but Delia spotted her in the mirror.

“Oh, Sabina,” she sniffed, dabbing her eye with a tissue. “Sorry you caught me crying.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sabina, “I can go.” She felt instantly uncomfortable. What if she didn’t want to marry Simon anymore or something awful? She should get her mom.

“Come in.” Delia turned from the mirror and faced her.

“I knew I would be emotional today, but it really just hit me.”

Sabina sat in one of the peach chairs in the lounge area and her plaid dress puffed up around her. She tried to pat it down without making a face.

Delia sighed, “I’m so glad you are in the wedding, it means a lot to me. And you look so pretty in that dress.”

“Sure,” said Sabina with a frozen doll-like smile.

“I don’t know if Simon told you, but my mom loved Christmas. It was her favorite day of the year.”

Sabina’s fake smile slipped a little. “I didn’t know that.” She knew Delia’s mom had passed away when she was in high school, but they had never talked about it.

“I’m not sure how to get through this day without her.” She started crying again.

“I’m sorry,” squeaked Sabina, and she meant it. She had never stopped to think about how hard this day would be for Delia without her mom.

“My mom got married on Christmas Eve, too, and those dresses,” she waved at the plaid fabric engulfing the peach chair, “are the same dresses my mom used when she got married. I showed pictures to the dressmaker and she copied them.”

Sabina stared back at her and felt something start to melt in her heart.

“Well, I better stop crying or I’ll never get my makeup done.” She swiveled back in the chair and started applying blush with a shaky hand.

Sabina watched her for a minute and felt like time had slowed. She looked down at the dress she had hated so much and saw something different. She felt her heart change. The dress was not about her or how she looked or what her friends thought. The dress was about Delia’s mom. About how she was without her mom on her wedding day, something Sabina couldn’t imagine.  

“Delia,” she said in quiet voice. “I think this dress is really beautiful.” She wasn’t lying; it really was a beautiful way to honor her future sister-in-law’s mother. She suddenly didn’t care about any of that other stuff. Instantly, she knew that this was what mom meant by blessing others with her attitude. 

Delia turned back to her, “Do you really think so? I know they’re old-fashioned, but I think they are really pretty, too.”

“Yes,” said Sabina and tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry you have to do this without your mom.”

“Oh, look now I have you crying; here have a tissue.” She laughed, “We have to pull it together.”

Sabina laughed too and wiped her eyes. “Thanks for letting me be a part of your wedding and for letting me wear this dress.”

Delia got up to hug her. “I’m so excited to have you as a sister. Here, help me with this makeup.”

At the reception, Mom brought Sabina a piece of cake. “You did a great job today. Delia told me what you said to her in the bathroom before the wedding. That you told her the dress was beautiful.” Mom raised an eyebrow.

Sabina took a bite of cake and nodded. “It really is. I mean that it was her mom’s dress. And,” she said reluctantly, “it might have felt good to do it with the right attitude.”

Mom laughed. “You will never regret letting the Lord use you to bless others. And,” she said with a tip of her head, “it just might come back to bless you.”

Sabina rolled her eyes, but then laughed. “I guess I did have fun today.”

“It’s amazing how our heart can change what our eyes see.” Mom hugged her, “Your heart does look beautiful in that dress.”

*********

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7b

selfie with my story (I love the illustration)

Although this story was written for a young audience it makes me think about the state of my own heart. I can do the right things with the wrong outlook and it falls flat. A Christmas pie dropped on the floor is still a pie, but nobody wants it. As a parent, I’m always talking about doing things with a good attitude because it really does matter. I want the pie served on a plate (preferably with whipped cream); I’m not all that interested in eating it off the floor. Although an argument could be made that floor pie is better than no pie, but it is clearly not the same experience as plated dessert. Eating it off the floor is really not the mood we were all hoping for here. Like Sabina in the story, she was willing to be in the wedding and wear the dress, but her bad attitude was ruining the actions.

How can we change our hearts when it come to the holidays this year? Maybe something as simple as having patience with the long lines at the bakery, asking the harried shop owner how they are doing or waving at an overworked postal carrier. Taking time to really listen (with patience) to that relative that likes to complain and instead of getting annoyed, maybe trying to redirect their thinking towards all their blessings. One less present to buy and to wrap for the kids traded for an extra Christmas story at bedtime. A moment of acknowledgment for the person who lost someone special and is experiencing the holidays without them for the first time.

We go to the work soiree, the family gathering, the school mixer and we are so often overextended that our hearts are not in it. It feels like one more thing to do, one more present to buy, one more veggie tray to pick up. But what if we change our attitudes and look for someone to bless. A sweet outlook can be infectious and perhaps help someone who is really struggling. A merry heart can make a dreaded task sweeter and allows us to bless others in the midst of the swirl of holiday pressures.

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine . . .

Proverbs 17:22a

Drafts on Ebb Tide

Change is a constant companion in our lives. Like the ebb tide of the waves, the new washes up and the old is swept away. It is relentless. When we are young, this feels slow, as if we will be children forever; remember when summer felt like it would go on forever? One sandy beach day disappeared into the next, marked by dripping popsicles in the hot sun and counting fireflies in the evenings. I never once thought about change on those long carefree days. But change was always there, with me, even when I was unaware. Now as a middling adult, I’m keenly aware of change and the passage of time. My childhood seems a lifetime ago. The changes I have gone through are staggering. The hardships and the growth that followed has formed me into an entirely different person.

As I write, I’m perched at the window bar of a coffee shop and my view consists of blowing leaves and pumpkins on hay bales: it is autumn. This is my favorite season. I identify with its many layers—a clear sun followed by unexpected clouds, cold rain and gusty winds. I have often wondered what our favorite seasons say about us. Fall is a time of change, cooling temps, tall boots and burnt orange sweaters, The days are short, but bright. It is the last brilliant moment before the world resets with a long sweep of cleansing cold, unforgiving air. It is change wrapped around me like a scarf, held in my hands like hot apple cider.

The older I get the more I realize that change is part of the game; it’s not going away. I’m constantly growing and learning. And in that growth, I must face the fact that there needs to be growth, because I’m still not there yet. I see this in my marriage. After 15 years together, we are still figuring it out. Our partnership, all and all, is fairly smooth, but then last weekend we had a fight about a juicer. Yup, a juicer! So guess there is still room for growth there, or at least a glass of carrot juice.

Parenting is arguably the biggest vehicle of growth around. Having a baby is like an instant death to your old self and born in its place is this soft squishy person who cares about bizarre things like the shape of pacifier nipples and who keeps a journal of wet diapers. Who is this person? And in a way you relive your childhood all over again with all the great things, like reading Make Way for Ducklings, but also all the hard things, like when your first fish dies (R.I.P. blue beta fish). And you change. . . you are a parent to a baby and then a toddler and then suddenly the baby is driving. And while you were fine to drive at 16, surely that cannot be true today!

Twisting in the Waves

Change also comes in the form of hardships. Tragedies like divorce, loss or severed relationships that can close off parts of us until they shrivel up and die. We can’t even access that part of our heart anymore. Maybe you have lost someone or perhaps your marriage feels like far more of a struggle than it’s worth, a needy child is chipping away at you and there is no time for anything you enjoy. The grind of life . . . has well. . . ground you up. Those long easy days of summer are a distant memory that play in your head like a movie you watched once. Ten-year-old you would never recognize your life now. Your dream journal seems completely unrealistic. Obviously, you are never going to work for SeaWorld at this point (although, the Blackfish documentary really finished off that dream).

Blackfish aside, I don’t know where you are at today. Perhaps life has come up roses with a few thorns or perhaps it’s thistles with a few flowering weeds. Life is always in motion, the waves are always reaching for us, trying to push us forward or pull us back. Sometimes there is little we can do about our circumstances. My childhood was punctuated with tragedy, there were long summer days and nights on the porch counting fireflies, but storms blew in unexpectedly. Loss and tragedy are big part of my identity. Of who I am. They shaped me young into twisty ways that are taking a lifetime to untangle. But I’m working on it.

The enemy has spent years whispering in my tender ear that this is who I am. That these knots cannot be untangled. The blood supply has been cut off and growth cannot take place. And you know what? In many ways it’s easier to let these areas lie dormant. I’m strangely comfortable in it. Like when your foot falls asleep and you are unaware until you try to move it and as blood flows back into those veins, it is painful. As I have reopened some of my past, it too, is painful; but I no longer want to be pushed into a shape that God did not intend for me.

So I look back at things that happened to me and I start to look at it all through the eyes of the Lord. Sure, He can use these things and He absolutely does, but also He does not want me to be bound up in my losses, my hurts, my disappointments.

When the waves reach for me, I start to sink in the quicksand of my emotions, being sucked under by the past. Bound—unable to swim; sinking into depression and despair. At times, the Lord sends others to swim along side of me to encourage me to keep swimming; but more so, Jesus Christ, my Savior, wants to see me unbound, free to swim over the surface of what tries to pull me down.

Learning to swim

He will Walk on Water

When our minds turn to depression/anger/bitterness/ apathy, we start to feel the weight of our past, our pain, the things that haven’t worked out. It’s too heavy, we are tempted to stop swimming and just sink. We look away from God and we start to go under. We are trying to swim with broken legs and twisted arms. If we are standing on the beach and we see our child or a friend struggling in the water, would we not rush out to help them? Of course! And God our Father does the same. If we cry out, He will walk on water to save us from sinking. But more so then save us from drowning this one time, He wants to teach us to keep our eyes on Him so we don’t sink; showing us how to navigate rough waters, to swim because He knows storms will arise often in our lives. While I want Him to remove me out of the water altogether and put me up on dry land, He knows the world we live in and that it will never stop trying to pull us out to the depths. In John 16:33, Jesus says, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

The waves will roll over my head, the enemy will try to convince me to stop swimming. But the Lord, the Lord Almighty will teach me to swim. The Holy Spirit will buoy me, the Great Physician will heal me, the power of Christ will strengthen me. We will face my crippling hurts together and He will breathe new life into the dead parts of my soul. He will unshackle the weights the enemy has chained to my limbs, and teach me to use them again. I will keep my eyes ever on Him—reading His word to renew my mind and speaking His truth to my hurting spirit. I pray in the power that changes things, changes me; I try (in His power) to cast off the old weights and get my stride. It does not come easy, it is work. I’m fighting the current. But the more I immerse myself in the things of the Lord, the stronger I become. I can only write about this because I have lived it. I have been bound up and I have been set free. Matthew 11:28 says: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest! “ The ebb tide will never stop, but the difference now is that (in Him) I can navigate the rough waters—I can swim..

In what ways is the ebb trying to take you out? How are your limbs bound up?

What would it look if you let the Lord unwind the areas in your life that are twisted up?

Are you being called to help someone else learn to swim?

DRAFTS on The Time I Melted the Dog’s Face

Don't worry; this is not a post on housework. But it is about a time I tried ironing or also known as the time I melted the dog's face. There are many, many things I struggle with like the aforementioned housework; and then there are things I'm just plain bad at and ironing would fit into that category. But sometimes we are forced to do things we have no business doing. That is just life. The day of reckoning came for me when I dragged my six-year-old to the craft store while I picked out fabric for a project. As you will soon see, I'm no good at crafts either, so I was forcing my friend, Tracy, to make me a shower gift (I do this all the time) and in exchange I continue to be the Ethel to her Lucy. 

After an exhausting hour in the store, against my better judgment, I allowed my son to pick out a craft. He selected these things called Perler beads. The idea being that you take these beads and put them on a peg board to create something like a turtle or a cat. Then you iron the beads to melt them together. Easy— right!?

So, I unearthed my iron from the basement. As I plugged it in, my son, *Wolfy* asked what it was. Which makes sense because I had yet to iron anything in his lifetime. I replied that it was, in fact, an iron. He asked what one did with an iron and I said, “iron things”. He asked the next logical question: is it scary? And I answered: I think so. At that extract moment, the iron let out a hissing spray of steam like a medieval dragon and both my son and dog dove under the bed in pure fear! This is what happens when you don't iron regularly . . . or at all.

Once I tamed the beast and coaxed the team out from under the bed, I set to my task of ironing this beaded puppy. It must be stated here that my son was called puppy for at least two years, so the love for puppies is fierce. He had worked long and hard on his creation (because Perler beads are no joke) and my only job was to fuse it together with a little heat from the hissing dragon. Wolfy and Scout quickly left the room as I cranked it up all the way and laid it on the dog. When I pulled it away, it looked a little —well—perplexed. I sent Tracy a picture and she texted back: Awww, you melted it’s face.

Yup, I melted the dog's face. My dog, Scout, was not wrong to hide from the threat of a similar fate.

We all have things we struggle with, but can't get away from as parents, spouses, friends, employees and writers.

Fortunate for me, ironing doesn't come up very often, although my mom would argue that perhaps it should, but other things do—more important things. Perhaps forgiveness is hard for you or patience and when you are forced to pull these things out they are rusty and scary and quite frankly could melt a dog's face.

Maybe it’s a part of your job, such as being nice to rude people or maybe you are in a parenting stage that you are just plain bad at like having sympathy for teenage problems. Perhaps being happy for others who are achieving your dreams, when getting there yourself is proving difficult. 

This is great lighting, but this poor dog’s face is much more melted than it appears—we all love a good filter.

What is the "ironing" in your life? Is it something tangible like caring for an aging parent or is it something emotional like serving your boss who you feel should not be in charge of anything. I did go on to iron a turtle, a cat and another dog with varying degrees of success. No one who knows better, will be asking me to iron anything, but I can do it when life demands.   

Ironing aside, we are all asked to do hard things. Challenges we feel unequipped to handle. When we are naturally good at something we tend to do it in our own might; thinking, yes, I’m good at connecting with people or I’m trained for an emergency. But when something arises that is out of our wheel house we acutely feel the lack of our own abilities. It is in these moments that I have learned (often the hard way) to find strength in someone else, someone bigger than me — my personality, education, background — when I’m out of my element, I have to turn to the Lord. He tells us in His Word that our weaknesses are made perfect in His strength. Do we believe this? What does it look like when we live this way? I have to lean on Him to walk through the anxiety and fears that often accompany the areas of my life that make me want to pull the covers over my head.

Parenting asks so much of us, as does marriage or work. At times, demanding things we don’t feel able to give, but know we must. God does not ask us to go it alone. He says come to me, you who are tired and weary. Why does quitting sometime seems easier? Because I’m trying to do it on my own and I simply can not do it. Writing this blog forces me to talk about it, ask people to read and share it and that makes me want to cringe. It makes me want to quit. But I asked the Lord to bless my writing, to use my words to be an encouragement for the weary, a needed word or bright spot. It is only in His strength and not my feeble attempts that any good will grow out of these scattered seeds. Perhaps you feel this at your job or in a relationship, you feel the weight of doing it alone, when the Lord never asked this of us.

Write about something you tried to do in your own strength. How did it go? (Did you melt the dog’s face?) What would it look like if you tried to rely on God’s strength instead?

*This is my son’s chosen nickname, which I’m using for blogging purposes—but ironically one of my fav names growing up was Wolfgang and I distinctly remember my mom saying she hoped I would marry a man that would not let me name a child this. Ha! The Wolfgang name will be victorious. I don’t get this last sentence?? This last sentence is from my mom and it makes me laugh so hard I had to leave it in maybe nobody gets it but me(?)