Percy burst into our lives like an F-5 tornado. But then he vanished. And I never saw him again.

It was the Summer of 2011 when I first met Percy. Holly and I had recently moved into a new place in South City, St. Louis. We lived at the corner where the Botanical Gardens meet Tower Grove Park. Our place was decent, but our location was divine.

St. Louis is a city with a bad reputation. But if you stand at the corner of Tower Grove Ave and Magnolia, where we used to live, you would see that there is still beauty in that city.

Our apartment complex was in the shape of a horseshoe. We occupied the unit on the first floor facing Tower Grove Ave. The apartment across from us was empty.

That is, until Percy moved in.

Percy was in his early 40’s when I first met him. He’s a tall black man living in the body of what could have been a former NFL player. He was losing his definition, but he still had a rather intimidating presence.

Percy moved in with Sandra. I never quite figured out if they were roommates or lovers or a mixture of the two. Percy’s love life was a topic we never discussed.

I introduced myself to Percy as “Mark.”

“What is your last name?”

“Dodd.”

“Very nice to meet you Mr. Dodd.”

He never called me by my first name. I was always “Mr. Dodd.” Holly was “Ms. Holly.”

The most distinguishing feature of Percy is that he’s LOUD. Thunderingly loud! Like, our wall frames would shake when he would laugh loud. Sometimes I wondered if he had a built-in microphone. His voice could fill an arena.

There are two vivid memories I have of Percy. The first memory is when he came to church with us for the first time. The second is when we saw The Conjuring together.

When I invited him to church he accepted my invitation by shaking my hand with both of his hands.

“Yes, Mr. Dodd! That would be lovely!”

Holly and I were helping a new church get started in the city. I invited him to attend on our very first Sunday. And oh, Percy made sure it was a Sunday I would never forget.

I woke up that Sunday morning and got myself ready. Then I walked across the hall to get Percy. His door was wide open and there was a sound that came blasting into the hallway.

It was the song, ‘Orinoco Flow’ by Enya. It was LOUD!!

“LET ME SAIL. LET ME SAIL. LET ME ORINOCO FLOW! LET ME REACH, LET ME BEACH ON THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI!!”

“Percy listens to Enya?” I thought to myself.

I walked into his apartment and he was pacing back and forth in his living room, lifting his hands in prayer with Enya as his guide.

“HEY PERCY, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO CHURCH??!!” I yelled.

He turned down the music.

“Yes, Mr. Dodd. I have been waiting for this moment all my life.”

“Ok.”

“I’ve been preparing all night for this, Mr. Dodd.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Yes, Mr. Dodd. I slept in the spirit.”

“Okay then.”

And off we went. Percy had the excitement of a child going to Disney World for the first time. He hadn’t been to church in a while. This was his coming back to Jesus moment.

By this point, Sandra and Percy weren’t living together. It was just Percy, and apparently Enya.

When we got to church, Percy insisted we sit in the front row. I hate the front row, but I obliged.

The real fun started when the sermon began. Remember reader, Percy is loud. Everyone in attendance was about to discover that for themselves.

Within the first couple minutes of the sermon, when Percy heard a nugget of wisdom that he agreed with, he stood up from his chair, clapped his hands obnoxiously loud and exclaimed,

“AMEN PASTOR!!”

And he did this several times during the sermon. He might as well have been in attendance at a State of the Union address.

And that was the only time Percy came to church with us, not because I didn’t invite him back. He just never wanted to go again. I’m not sure why.

The second memory is when Percy and I went to see ‘The Conjuring’ together.

The movie was released in the summer of 2013, right before Holly and I moved to Austin. I knew that Percy loved horror movies. When I invited him to see the movie with me, his eyes lit up…

“Yes, Mr. Dodd! Thank you, Mr. Dodd!”

We saw the movie at the Moolah theater. On that particular night, I was the only white guy in the audience. Everyone else was black.

And let me tell you right now, if you have never seen a horror movie with a black audience, you have not lived. It is easily the most fun I have ever had at the movies in my entire life.

The Conjuring is a scary movie. But when you watch it with Percy, it becomes hilarious. There’s a scene in the movie that occurs in the first act. The tension has been building in the movie to the point where you know something terrible is about to happen. In the scene, a little girl slowly sits up in bed in the creepiest way possible. As she sat up on the screen, Percy literally stood up from his chair, pointed at the screen, and in unison with everyone else in the theater shouted,

“OH SH*T!!!!”

Everyone immediately burst into laughter.

The scene that everyone was supposed to be freaked out by produced the kind of laughter you would expect at a Kevin Hart show.

I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe.

And that was the last time I remember Percy laughing. Things went downhill after that.

On one occasion, Percy was acting really strange. He stormed out of his apartment and ran into the middle of the street and started undressing. He was shouting every curse word under the sun.

I ran after him to try to help.

“Not now, Mr. Dodd!!”

That was my last memory of him. We didn’t see him in his apartment much after that. Holly remembers running into Percy one night when she was walking out the door to meet up with friends. Percy was hungry and asked her for some food. She told him she would bring him food later on.

She dropped a bag of Chick-fil-a in front of his door. He never picked it up.

He was gone. We never saw him again.

Neighbors come and go. But when they vanish, it leaves a sting. We love Percy. We miss him. It’s still painful not knowing what happened to him.

“Is he okay? Is he still hungry? Is he alive?”

I hope he’s making people laugh. I hope he’s blasting Enya. I hope he’s not hungry. I hope he’s alive. I hope.

Percy, if you ever read this, I love you. My neighbor. My friend.

 

Things don’t always go according to plan.

I learned this in a rather dramatic way. On the morning of July 2, 2016, my wife and I both woke up with a terrible stomach virus. In our eight years of marriage, we have never been sick at the same time. Except for that day.

And at this point, you may be shaking your head thinking, “Yep, things don’t always go according to plan.”

But friend. Oh dear friend. You don’t even know.

I woke to the sound of Ivy crying in her nursery around 7am. I knew immediately that I was sick. It’s a dreadful feeling. Holly awoke around the same time and it was clear she was not feeling well either.

Taking care of a toddler when you have a stomach virus is a fool’s errand. It felt like all the energy had left my body, but somehow I had to muster the strength to change her diaper and feed her breakfast.

Ivy cried all the way through breakfast. Normally I’m able to respond to her needs quickly, but I was moving slow that morning, and Ivy could tell. She wasn’t happy about it.

I turned on Netflix and played Ivy’s favorite movie at the time, Curious George. She was finally content and I passed out on the couch, trying to get as much sleep as I could.

Curious George ended at 8:30am and Ivy began to cry. By this point, Holly and I were both laying down on couches in our living room. We were arguing about who should help Ivy.

Tensions were running high. We were not communicating well. But when you have a crying toddler and a mom and dad both infected by stomach viruses, it’s hard to remain calm and rational.

We realized we needed help, so I texted some of our friends and explained the situation. People were quick to respond and asked if we needed anything.

Shortly after I sent that text, I threw up for the first time that morning.

Not long after that Holly had the case of the double dragon (stuff coming out both ends). It was a morning from hell.

At this point, reader, I imagine you reading this, maybe even slapping your knee saying, “Well brother, things really don’t go according to plan.”

You still don’t know the half of it. Because up to this point I have left out the most important detail. On July 2, 2016, Holly was 37 weeks pregnant.

After a morning game I like to call, “Who Can Throw Up the Most?”, we decided that we needed to ask one of our friends to come over and watch Ivy for the afternoon. Holly and I desperately needed rest.

Our friend Elle came over and brought us some Sprite and Gatorade and took Ivy out for the afternoon.

Around 12:30pm, Holly and I fell asleep, finally with some peace and quiet.

I remember Holly waking up around 1:30 in pain. She was having contractions every 3-4 minutes. We decided to call the doctor for advice. The doctor suggested Holly drink as much water as possible to try to slow the contractions down.

I started texting my friends asking for prayer: “Please pray that the contractions slow down.” I couldn’t handle the thought of welcoming a child into the world on that day. Please Lord, any other day.

Holly couldn’t keep her fluids down. She went to the bathroom around 2:15pm. Holly was clearly in pain and her contractions were not slowing down. It was obvious that our baby girl was coming that day, so now it was a matter of getting into the car and racing to the hospital.

I started collecting random things to take with us and Holly screamed from our bathroom, “CALL 911!!!”

My whole life flashed before my eyes.

In my head, I thought, “Oh no. No, this is not happening. This can’t be happening!!”

“Holly, what’s going on???”

“This baby is coming out of me RIGHT NOW!!!!”

I called 911 immediately.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

(I was in such shock that I didn’t really know how to answer that)

“Ok, you are not going to be believe this!! My wife and I both woke up with stomach viruses this morning…”

Holly screamed, “JUST TELL THEM I’M HAVING A BABY!!!!”

“Oh, also, my wife is having a baby right now!”

(Good job, Mark)

The 911 operator responded, “Where is your wife right now?”

“She’s sitting on our toilet!”

“OK sir, I need you to get your wife on the ground and get her comfortable. Grab a pillow and a towel.”

I obeyed like a dog who’s ‘Best in Show.’

The operator then asked me about Holly’s symptoms: “How is her breathing? What is her pain level?”

“Uh, uh…”

“Can you see the baby’s head?”

I took a peek.

“Yes, I can see the head.”

Then she said the most terrifying words any human being has ever spoken to me…

“Sir, now I’m going to walk you through the step by step process on how to deliver your baby.”

My life flashed before my eyes again.

(I will say, by this point, I didn’t feel sick anymore. I was running on pure adrenaline. So if you are wondering what the cure is for a stomach virus, try delivering a baby).

The 911 operator was barking directions at me: “Make sure your wife is laying down on her back! Make sure she is comfortable!”

“Okay!”

“Now grab a shoelace and a safety-pin. This will be to clamp the umbilical cord when the baby is born.”

I found the nearest shoe and frantically was trying to pull out the shoelace. I looked like one of those ‘Minute to Win It’ contestants who has absolutely no chance of winning.

I asked, “Is there an ambulance coming!!!???”

“They will be arriving soon.”

Within minutes, I could hear sirens in the distance, maybe the greatest sound I have ever heard.

The woman on the phone instructed me to go to the front door and leave it open. I moved a couch out-of-the-way for EMS.

EMS arrived within 6 minutes of placing my 911 call. It all happened so fast, but 6 six men were all the sudden in our bedroom, getting ready to help my wife deliver our baby girl.

They literally transformed our bedroom into a delivery room in two minutes.

Those six men will forever be heroes in my eyes. They were calm, and helped Holly get as comfortable as possible. They were all light-hearted and upbeat.

Holly was freaking out though.

Understandably.

“HAVE YOU GUYS EVER DONE THIS BEFORE!!?”

(Totally reasonable question to ask six strangers)

“Yes ma’am. Between all of us, we have delivered over 30 babies.”

“Ok, ok.”

They kept telling my wife how awesome she was. They really were amazing. I felt calm and relieved for the first time that day. I knelt down next to Holly, grabbed her hand, and said, “Let’s do this babe.”

Holly pushed twice and our daughter was born.

At 2:50pm, Beatrice Paige Dodd was born on our bedroom floor. Holly had a fully natural birth. No pain meds. No nothing. All natural.

All of us in the room marveled at Beatrice. She was perfect. Holly and Beatrice were lifted onto a stretcher and taken to the ambulance. I followed shortly behind, not caring about all the discomfort of the day. Just in awe of our little girl.

EMS drove us to the hospital and they stayed with us until we got checked into our room. I took a picture of them all hovering around Holly and Bea.

And that was that.

On July 2, 2016, I didn’t expect to wake up with a stomach virus. I didn’t plan on almost delivering a baby. I didn’t think I would be holding my daughter that day. 

But things don’t always go according to plan. And that’s alright.

When the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2019, I was checking into a hotel in Ardmore, Oklahoma. In other words, it was maybe the most uneventful way to ring in a new year.

My wife and I got our 3 kids settled into our hotel room (wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles) and it finally hit me while laying on my bed that 2019 had arrived.

“Thank God,” I thought to myself.

Not that there’s anything magical about the start of a new year. It’s just another day in the life. But I suppose it does signal the end of one thing and the beginning of something else. And I welcome that.

Because here’s the reality: 2018 was hands down the hardest year of my life. It’s not even close.

I’ll get back to that in a moment.

I have to confess that I’m not a big fan of ‘The Highlights of 2018’ posts. Sorry. Some of you are reading this and you posted something like that. I’m not secretly judging you. I still like you. It’s okay.

But here’s my beef—life is not a series of highlights strung together. That’s not how it works. I could put together a top 10 list from 2018 that would look like this:

1. JJ was born!
2. We got to see our families a bunch
3. We paid off a car
4. Ivy turned 4
5. Beatrice turned 2
6. Holly and I went to Orlando
7. I got to drink butter beer at Harry Potter World
8. We hosted a small group from our church in our home
9. Holly started her career as a psychiatric nurse practitioner
10. I started a blog

I could post that on Facebook and say, “2018 in the books! Bring on 2019!”

And you would read that and think, “Wow! 2018 was a great year for the Dodd Squad!”

That’s partially true. Some really great things happened. But man, some really hard things happened too. If the end of a year is a finish line, it felt like we army crawled to it.

Sometimes the power of positive thinking just doesn’t cut it. You with me?

On the flip side, if all I did was complain about how hard my year was, I would be committing the same error I am ranting about.

Life is really hard. And it’s also really amazing.

Those two realities are a constant tension in my life. And I would bet money you feel that tension too. This is why I struggle with end of the year highlight reels as if everything is peachy. Because it’s not. You probably experienced some hard stuff in 2018.

Where am I going with this? I’m not sure. Let me keep writing and we will figure this out.

I’m a big fan of March Madness (just hang with me for a minute). One of my favorite moments during March Madness is the “One Shining Moment” video that plays after the national championship game. I love how the video walks you through the tournament, the highs and the lows. They never just show the winning shots. They show you the tears. The pain of losing. The almost moments.

If we are talking about highlight reels, that seems more true to life. Celebrate the victories. But also don’t gloss over the pain.

It’s okay to include the hard moments in your highlight reel. It’s okay to even be thankful for the trials. That’s where God meets us. In the broken places.

As I look ahead to 2019, I see many trials on the horizon. But I see the sun. And I keep pressing on.