The Boathouse

My grandparents have been gone from this earth over three years now, and many of their belongings remain undisturbed.  They were borderline hoarders, so there is much to purge.  There is also much to find and reminisce over.  The process is exciting, sometimes sad, and certainly overwhelming. 

It is impossible, now, to count how much time I actually spent with my grandparents.  Holidays, of course, but I spent almost every summer with them at their house - weeks at a time even.  Those weeks were spent full of adventure in a seemingly suspended state of time for me.

This week I opened my grandfather’s boathouse to begin retrieving his old fishing boat.  I’m excited at the prospect of using it with my own children to fish, eat snacks, and talk about life - that’s what it’s for, right?  

Nothing about the boathouse has changed.  The dirt floor still looks and smells the same.  The click of the padlock still stirs a feeling of anticipation of what is behind the door, and I still had to watch that I didn’t cut my hand on the jagged hole in the metal as the chain clinked its way through.  The hinges still creak in exactly the same way, and the light switch still won’t come on when you want it to.  I glanced around out of habit looking for any potential snakes and remembered Poppy once pulling one off the wall by the tail and launching it into the woods after swinging it over his head a few times.

It was surreal. Everything was the same.  It was the same cluttered stacks of items that would be sufficient to decorate the interior of your local Cracker Barrel.  Sickles, pick axes, old fishing rods, lanterns, metal buckets, tools, and stuff I’ll never know the stories behind.  Old signs and license plates still hang on the sheet metal walls, and the very water skis I learned to ski on are still wedged into the rafters along with those hideous, orange, “U” shaped life preservers.  

I’ve been in the boathouse thousands of times, but always following the steps of my grandfather.  This time… I led, as my children followed, and in an instant felt myself transformed from an excited little kid to the role of adulthood my grandfather played.  Suddenly I was on the other side of the same scenario I have lived a thousand times.  

I was trying to accomplish a project with children, my own children, around my feet asking about everything and wanting to play with anything.  My grandfather didn’t get in a hurry as he worked with us around.  He spent his time walking back and forth to retrieve tools and parts… I’ve concluded that that is the time he spent thinking about the task at hand.  At least I assume he did - that’s what I did.  I watched my own children tramp the same ground I tramped.  I watched them explore and ask questions about the same items I used to ask about.  I never thought about what might be going through my grandfathers mind, until now.

I think it was appreciation.  I think it must have been appreciation for life and family.  Appreciation for the ability to spend time with us.  Appreciation for time itself.  I don’t know if I will ever understand how he kept frustration levels in check, but I think I’m starting to get a clue.  I think those times he had me look for things that may or may not exist where diversions to allow him to do part of the task for which he didn’t need “kid help” - that’s what I did with my own kids.  I think the expected coffee breaks he would take throughout a project gave him time to think on a problem while I sat and enjoyed just being there with him.  I think the times an anticipated plan changed suddenly with him letting me help conclude the outcome was a technique to avoid the disappointment that things weren’t going as planned.  Again, something I did with my own just the other day while trying to fix flat tires on the boat trailer.  

I believe I felt what he felt when he engaged me, as I engaged my own.  I believe God gave me a gift to be able to get just a little glimpse into the perspective of my grandfather, and recognize for myself just a little more personal significance of my own life.  

Regarding such experiences, my mother often says “and the beat goes on”. She is so correct.  Children learn what they live, and I am now not only executing what I’ve learned, but being schooled once again by the impact of my Grandfather.

I miss them both so much, but the beat does go on.

The Thought that Counts

Not long ago my sweet wife slipped up beside me, extended her arm around me, and gently stated that she did not want me to concern myself with trying to get her a valentine’s gift this year. 

Her statement has nothing to do with a lack of desire to receive one, but everything to do with a tighter budget these days.  Since she handles the finances in our home, it is extremely difficult to buy her anything without her knowing.  I have to be a creative opportunist.

It gave me tremendous pleasure to respond by saying too late, baby - I already have.  Her expression of surprise was everything I hoped it would be.  

One of the things I have been trying to do is stay ahead of the game when it comes to seasons of gifting with my wife.  I have a tendency to think of things along the way to give her, and then let whatever day is approaching approach without having acted upon the intentions of my heart.

This year I bought her a card immediately following New Years.  I was strolling solo through a store and saw the cards had just been put out.  My first thought was ‘I’ll catch it later, I've still got plenty of time’.  Fortunately, my next thought was ‘Hey, I’ve got first pickings if I get it now’.

Truth be told, I’m not a fan of cards; at least as a giver anyway.  I never seem to find the card that says exactly what I feel.  Part of that could be from waiting until all that is left are cards “from the both of us” or “to a super 7 year old”.  The rest of the cards are damaged, shuffled out of place, and I’m usually standing there looking with 8 other people in a shopping space made for three.  But that day, with time, urgency and an un-plundered card rack on my side, I found a great card.  It’s just enough cute, not too much flower, a little glitter, and most importantly, the words within are perfect.

My wife’s love language is most certainly gifts, nothing major mind you, but gifts nonetheless.  She loves unexpected little happpies full of thoughtfulness, so while getting the card I went ahead and picked up a few things to go with it; It has all been hidden in my office for weeks now… except the card.  I realized on Friday, February 13th that I couldn’t find it when I began wrapping and packing.

It turns out the card was in my backpack all this time and now it looks like it’s been crammed in the typical junk drawer for the last two years.  It is bent, discolored, missing glitter in spots, and has a stain that appears to be a drop of coffee on one of the corners.  How could I let this happen? Everything else is so perfect and now I have to scavenge through leftover cards on Valentine’s eve... again.  I feel like such a bottom feeder.

As I sat at my desk reading and re-reading the card I finally decided that she will love it anyway.  It's a risk, but if there was ever a moment when the thought counted more, this is it.  My wife likes a great story, and this will be sweet to her.  She’ll like the fact that I bought it so early.  She will be impressed, but not surprised by my creative wrapping job, and when she opens the tattered, coffee stained card in bewilderment, she will appreciate the words within and ultimately include that card with other keepsakes.

We have spent over twenty valentine’s days together, and there is no card on earth that can truly capture how I feel about that or all that she means to me.  She is my one true love - always has been, always will be.  She is my valentine.

Relieved by Love

One of the things I try to do when I visit nursing homes, is take my daughter with me.  I checked Karis out of school early yesterday to go with me because she is the best visiting partner I have ever had.  Her specialty; nursing homes and assisted living centers.

There is no way to fully describe how pleasant she is with the aged.  She makes me the best nursing home minister on the planet just by standing next to me.  She can’t help but smile everywhere she goes, so when she walks in the room, the residents light up with glee.

Besides smiling, she holds hands, hugs necks, lets her face be kissed, and has even prayed with a lady once.  She never hides behind me or outside the room regardless of how scary or gruff someone may seem.  She has never been grossed out by awkward smells or unpleasant sights, and she always takes time in the hallway to speak to the unexpected person sitting lonely in the doorway of their room.  

Never have I seen her so much as flinch when spoken to by someone out of their mind and unintelligible.  Neither has she ever laughed when asked the same question 4 times by Alzheimer patients - she simply takes it all in stride and asks me about the details later.  My seven year old daughter has a ministry gift that sets her apart even at her young age.  It really is impressive.  

Yesterday I watched as she met someone new.  A group of ladies were sitting in the lobby looking out the window when we stopped by.  One of the ladies saw Karis and immediately reached out for her to come close.  She scooped her into her arms holding her tightly like a doll and telling her over and over how much she loved her.

This was probably the most uncomfortable of contexts I have seen my daughter experience.  With shaking hands the lady stroked Karis’ hair and touched her face repeatedly while telling her she loved her - It actually weirded me out a little.  Before letting her go she looked her in the eyes and with an almost begging plea asked Karis if she loved her.  “Do you love me?  Do you love me, too?  Do you love me?” she repeated.  Karis said “yes, I love you” just as matter of fact as she would her own mother.

That woman released her in tremendous relief and with tears in her eyes rested back in her chair telling everyone nearby that that sweet little girl loved her.  Watching my daughter fearlessly bless others the way she did makes me one proud daddy.

As I have reflected upon the experience, two specific things came to mind.  One is that we as parents must sensitize ourselves to the giftedness and uniqueness of our children, and be wise enough to cultivate the richness of the soil for them to grow and thrive.  I believe this is a large part of the responsibility expressed in Proverbs 22:6 which reads “train up a child in the way he should go, even when he is old he will not depart from it”. 

Secondly, regardless of age, condition, background, or circumstances, we all want to be loved.  I don’t know what that lady’s story is or why she so desperately needed to hear that from Karis yesterday, but I do know what I saw in her face and body language the moment she heard it.  It was peace and rest.

May we all strive to be a blessing to those around us.

August 13th

I love my wife for so many reasons (see last years blog 17 Years and Counting).  One of the things I love about her, and our relationship, is that in all our years of marriage, we have neither become tired of each other’s company nor exhausted our conversations.

I remember when we were dating, we would look around a restaurant and notice seasoned couples who seemed to have nothing to talk about.  They just sat and looked at their plates, eating and never said anything to each other.  I remember telling Jennifer many times that when we are older and married a while, I don't want to be like that.  I don’t ever want to sit in a restaurant across from her and have nothing to talk about.  That would just make me feel so sad.

We always have something to discuss.  We always have stories to tell each other.  We always have things to laugh about.  We have spent many nights over the years sharing a bowl of chips and Queso or salad and endless baskets of breadsticks while having the best conversations of our lives with each other.  I love those moments.  I love those memories.

Those orchestrated moments have been farther apart and fewer in number in recent years, but Monday I look so forward to having one again.  We will celebrate 18 years of marriage on that day and though there are many things about that to which we look forward, the thing to which I look most forward is sitting down across a table for lunch and just enjoying our conversation.

We will sit and discuss the fact that it is just the two of us and we will try our best to recall what we did with our time before our children required it.  We will joke about what it is like to simply ask for a table for two instead of seven.  We wont need kids menus or high chairs.  We will be excited that the cost is significantly less as a result, and we definitely will not be getting stared at while seeing our kids being counted by others and the details our life theorized.  People are funny.  

We don’t have that rule you hear in sit-coms about not discussing the children on our date - we love to talk about them.  While doing so, we will also reference the fact that we are without the constant need of our children wanting crayons, trying to reach the chips, playing with the salt & pepper shakers, or having to go to the restroom at the same time.  We won’t have to worry with forks loudly banging on the table, spilled beverages, straw sheathes blown from the straw at us, or deciding whether to bribe with ice cream for good behavior.  We will find ourselves enjoying the moment of childlessness.  It takes a little bit for the stillness of that moment to sink in.

For me, the alone, adult time is nice, but not so much because they are not around.  It is because when the children  are not around, I also see that it is each other we still so deeply enjoy.  Moments such as these are not void ones either - there is no awkward spot where suddenly we don’t know what to do with ourselves.  Though our children are missed, they are not what holds our relationship together.  Their absence from us, even for a little while, reminds us that it is not our children that have kept us committed in our relationship - it has been the relationship itself.  Our calling to submit to oneness with one another.

My bride has been my bride since before the foundation of the world, and I have been her groom.  We have weathered many things together by now and anticipate an array of experiences to come.  Our life has been so full and blessed with surprises thus far, and has been an adventure beyond anything we would have knowingly signed up for 18 years ago.

I love my wife, and I still love calling her “my wife”.  I love that she loves me.  I love that we love being together.  I love that I love her far more today than I did back then.  Back then I didn’t think I could possibly love her more...but, I do.

I Corinthians 13:13

But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.

17 Years and Counting

I love you because you said “I forgive you”. I love you because you said “yes”. I love you because you said “I do”. I love you because you are beautiful. I love you because you are the best mommy I have ever seen. I love you because you smile. I love you because you make me smile. I love you because you dance. I love you because you are not impressed by me. I love you because of your faith. I love you because you buy me Frosted Lucky Charms. I love you because you understand. I love you because you are patient. I love you because you are godly. I love you because I trust you. I love you because you get up in the middle of the night and tend to crying babies. I love you because you know I pretend to be asleep sometimes but you get up anyway. I love you because you read your bible. I love you because you like to ride roller coasters. I love you because you laugh at my jokes. I love you because we drink coffee together. I love you because we always have something to talk about. I love you because you smile at me from across a crowded room. I love you because you kiss me from across a crowded room. I love you because you kiss me at all. I love you because you hold my hand. I love you because you squeeze my hand to say you love me. I love you because you hold me. I love you because you like to go to Chili’s with me. I love you because you like to go to Buffalo Wild Wings with me. I love you because you are faithful. I love you because you see right through me. I love you because you make the best green beans in the world. I love you because you will be silly with me. I love you because you sing. I love you because you always want just a sip of my Coke. I love you because you like to find good sales. I love you because we eat popcorn together. I love you because you let me snatch your pillow even though it bothers you. I love you because you are sentimental. I love you because you let me tell funny stories about you. I love you because you like dogs. I love you because you make sweet babies. I love you because you cuddle with me. I love you because you listen to me. I love you because you hear me. I love you because you leave drawers open. I love you because you leave your keys in the door. I love you because you bring me surprises from the store. I love you because you take care of me when I am sick. I love you because you yell at me when I am a jerk. I love you because you jump on the trampoline. I love you because you let me say I’m sorry. I love you because you wear Amarige just to remind me of our honeymoon. I love you because you play Foosball with me. I love you because you play Backgammon with me. I love you because you play Candy Land with the kids so I don’t have to. I love you because you sit through my “I guess you had to be there” stories. I love you because you make me turn down my loud music. I love you because you make me want to be a better person... husband… father… Christian. I love you because you pushed me in my wheelchair. I love you because you carried me. I love you because you didn’t let me feel sorry for myself. I love you because you covered me up with a cozy blanket. I love you because you moved my legs for me. I love you because you do the family budget. I love you because you have a lot of purses. I love you because you call and ask when I am coming home. I love you because you like musicals. I love you because you sing “A Whole New World” with me. I love you because you like my pancakes. I love you because you love to open presents at Christmas time. I love you because you love traditions. I love you because you are a Proverbs 31 woman. I love you because other women want to be like you. I love you because of your convictions. I love you because of your devotion. I love you because of your passion. I love you because you let me read to you. I love you because you text me in the middle of the day just to say you love me. I love you because we keep secrets together. I love you because you like the beach. I love you because you go canoeing with me. I love you because you love to have a lazy PJ day together. I love you because you never let me forget I am a leader. I love you because you remind me of my value to God. I love you because you remind me of my value to others. I love you because you waited for me. I love you because without you I wouldn’t be the me I am. I love you because you are an amazing pastor's wife. I love you because you let me make dramatic, sappy proclamations about you. I love you, I love you, I love you!