These last few weeks I've been struggling with self-discipline.
I'm not making good food choices at home, and I'm not making good food choices when I'm by myself in my truck, speeding off to whatever it is that has me away from home that night.
My workouts are fantastic, and I'm seeing some muscle definition that wasn't there before, particularly in my upper arms and my outer thigh (my inner thighs have enough loose skin to start a whole new human).
Speaking of whole new humans, The Missus and I are, at long last, pregnant. We heard the heartbeat just a couple of weeks ago, and of course I became very emotional and sobbed like a baby, because that's what I do in emotional situations.
One of the things I have been struggling with is how I need to let our three children know that this fourth kid isn't a replacement for them. I don't want them to ever feel that way, but I have a very strong hunch that they already do (and will). I don't want to come right out and say the words, lest I am responsible for putting a thought there that they hadn't even considered.
And so I bite my tongue and I continue to try and let them know they're loved in other ways.
I probably won't ever publish this blog on any social network, so there's a good chance the only people that will see it will be those of you who are stalkers (HI!) and my children when they get old enough to find this thing (Keeli has already tried, unsuccessfully).
Just in case one of the kids is here, maybe you need to see this. I love you. I love you more than you could ever imagine, and the reason why I can say this to you in the future is because that love will never go away. You see, that's the love a parent has for a child. You are my child. You are a Sloat. You are perfect for your mom and I because God brought us together. There is a verse in the Bible that talks about what God brings together, no man can separate. No one can ever get in the way of my love for you.
I think a big part of self-discipline is forcing yourself to do what you don't want to do until it actually becomes something you can't wait to do. I used to be that way about writing. I finished up a piece today that took a few days to write, and it was almost exhausting to get through. I feel like I've let this little blog go, and the only writing I do is for the paper, or for tests to hand out. That surely can't be good.
I told Alicia the other day that I had a pretty good book idea, and this is my official way of logging that, so in ten years when I haven't gotten around to writing it, and someone else comes out with a book about missionaries trying to reach the last people group who hasn't heard the gospel, I can safely say I had the idea first. I had a friend tell me once they believed ideas aren't just given to one person. That there's a huge pool to swim in, and sometimes people are in the same part of the pool at the same time, or someone will swim up to something you just passed. Might not make sense to you, but I wholeheartedly believe that's true.
I need to write more. I need to discipline myself the way that I have with food and exercise. I need to force it until it becomes natural again. That's what this post is, a kick in the butt. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't.
If you're here as a stalker, I am truly sorry you sat through this garbled mess. If you're one of my kids, I'll say it again, I love you more than life itself, and no matter what happens, that love will never change.
Thursday, November 3, 2016
A forced entry
I'm a husband, father, son, brother, and friend. I teach English and Literature to the youth of today. I love Jesus and my mother, and I'll gladly introduce you to both. I love photography and writing. Duke basketball keeps me occupied for half the year, and hating Chapel Hill keeps me busy the other half. As you can tell from the title of my blog, I like stories. I'm a big guy with a big voice, trying desperately to be heard by someone before The Lord takes me home. Let's be best friends.