Inscrit le: 05 Mai 2016
Moyenne de points: 0,00
|Posté le: Lun 3 Juil - 10:16 (2017) Sujet du message: Reflections Of A Middle Child In Middle Age
These are the reflections of Christopher Rabbit. “Chris Lisle” is the pen name my parents gave at birth, and it is that name by which I have lived the entirety of life as a middle child. But that’s not who I really am. At the age of two, I chose to be called Christopher Rabbit. My Dad painted that name on a small wooden stool that I have to this day.
I was born in 1964 and raised in Springdale, Arkansas. I raised by an attorney/father I liken to Atticus Finch. I am the second of three sons. I have been happily married for twenty-five years to Julie. We have three children, Madison, Andrew and Olivia. I received my law degree at the University of Arkansas School of Law in 1993 and began practicing law with my Father. I am a veteran of the US Army, having served in the 82nd Airborne Division. I completed Army Ranger School (awarded Ranger Tab, 1989); Army Parachute School, and German Parachute Wings. I enlisted after high school, later commissioned in college, and honorably discharged as a Captain in the Infantry (USAR). I am a College Letterman (Cross Country), completed an Iron Distance Triathlon and Four Marathons, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro in Africa, and have made fire without matches.
Middle Age is long enough for me to realize that I was not the hero of my life, “that station” was left to many others along the way. My life began with a bit of luck. I was lucky enough to be born in a time of history when there were things like air-conditioning, electricity, and simple things like aspirin and toilet paper, luckier still to have been born into a country that was safe, and even within that country, to be born into a small quiet town where I could grow, learn and play without fear. But most importantly, I was lucky enough to have parents that loved me and to be surrounded by people that loved me. If I had been born to a broken home anywhere else in this country or a drug, crime infested inner city I don't know what I would be today, but certainly not who I am today. So I'm always cognizant of the fact that most of what I have or am today was simply blind stupid luck and had little or nothing to do with me.
These stories are the reflections on some of those heroes who gave meaning to my life, either gave me life or shaped my life. It seems most of us spend a fair amount of time searching our lives for meaning, for purpose, and I find that hidden meaning is the most elusive of life’s treasures; it is usually hidden behind the contradictions of your life, like something sad bringing joy in reflection. These stories are not unique to me as everyone has them, but my hope is that by writing down a few others can reflect back on their lives with new understanding and find meaning they we didn't see before.
Middle age seems a good time to reflect back on the first half of our lives and looking for meaning in the memories that we didn't see before. It's impossible to fully understand the significance of something when it happens, and the more traumatic the longer it takes to understand the full impact and meaning that event will have in your life. Our memories are like pieces of a puzzle, and with so many pieces to put together it makes understanding life a great puzzle.
When “you” realize your life is a great puzzle to be solved by you alone (for only you have all the pieces of your life), your life then becomes a great story, and you can't wait to turn the next page, or at least quit fearing what may happen on the next page and rejoice instead in the fact that whatever happens, appreciate that your life will go on and it will make you better tomorrow than you are today.
These reflections are recounted here as the people or events unfolded in my life.
bound: 222 pages
filesize: 5404 KB