Date with one of my girls

I had a date with Mattie yesterday.  I thought about taking her to see Ice Age 4, but Christine reminded me that loud noises and Mattie do not mix (thunder freaks her out). So, we rode the light rail uptown to Imaginon for the Amazing Castle exhibit.

We played on a typewriter outside the libary (the "R" that is missing is intentional, as that is how Mattie says library),

posed on a pencil,

and cleaned out some earwax.

We visited a castle from the middle ages – cooking bread and meat and vegetables,

  tending the garden, waking up a dragon, and putting on a puppet show. 



While we were in the kitchen, Mattie said, “daddy, you’re the king, and I’m the princess.  You sit down and I’ll fix your meal.”  What I heard was, “daddy – you’re the man of the house, and I’ll fix you your meal”.  Whether or not she was saying this, this is what I heard.  I was heartbroken.  I don't think we have set up some system at our house where I sit down and await my wife to feed me – “the king of my castle”.  So you know, I immediately told her to sit down, and I would be cooking the meal and serving her. 

Afterwards, we went to McDonald’s (Old McDonald’s as it’s called around here, even by our 7 year old West).  We had a great time, having urnge draynk (this is a common saying around PRBC youth; it’s urnge draynk, not orange drink), chicken nuggets, fries, and apples.  I have my own concerns with how McDonald’s functions as a business, which I won’t detail here, but we go here on an infrequent basis.  Mattie’s first choice was Chick-Fil-A (Chick-o-lay as it was called for many years around here).  Christine and I haven’t discussed what it means for our family that Dan Cathy’s proclaimed that his company supports “the biblical definition of the family unit”.  I was grateful that Mattie said, “I’m scared that the cow will come, so I don’t want to go”.  We will have the conversation with our kids if we decide not to support Chick-o-lay , but the first conversation on this doesn’t happen in the car, headed to lunch, when I haven’t chatted with my spouse about how we’ll handle this.

Mattie wanted a chocolate-dipped ice cream cone for dessert.  Unfortunately, their ice cream machine was broken.  Every option that the woman gave to Mattie for dessert was met with a pout.  When, finally, we hit on a strawberry and banana smoothie.  To my surprise, she gave it to us for free.  I’m grateful to her for her generosity.  We tried to return the Transformer figurine from my… I mean, her Happy Meal, knowing that we didn’t need another something that would just end up in the landfill.  I was disappointed that this same woman insisted on giving her a more feminine toy.

After lunch, we headed to get our nails done.  Mattie chose the colors.  I now wish I had gone for the flower additions - they look so pretty on Mattie's nails.



my hand is the larger one

  

The ladies working there didn’t know what I would do about work with my painted toenails and fingernails.  I tried to explain about the idea of Sabbatical and that I didn’t have to worry about it.  I tried also to explain that I was in a job where it would be OK that I had painted nails.  Why is it that all jobs around here wouldn’t be OK with a man having his fingernails painted – because he wanted to or because he had a date with his daughter?

We were headed home, and as I dropped off Mattie at the bus stop to meet Christine so that they could meet West, I could feel the strange looks from the adults and even some of the kids about my painted nails.  "Only girls are supposed to paint their fingernails" I heard later from a neighborhood child.  Let me be clear – I am perfectly comfortable with my painted nails. 

I’ve had the conversation with some of the boys on West’s baseball team about the colors pink and blue.  Pink is not a girl’s color, and blue is not a boy’s color.  I am happy to wear a pink bow tie or my pink shirt and am still certain I’m a boy.  I hope that our children will know that it’s OK for West to cook and clean and play with dolls and do all those things that our society has defined as feminine.  I hope that our children know that Mattie and Marian can play with trucks and go play tackle football with the boys (to be clear, she'd kick their tail) and burp and do all those things that our culture have defines as masculine.

Me – I’ll continue to wear the shirts I like, no matter the color.  I’ll continue to get my nails painted when my daughter (OR SON) wants to paint them.  I have some work to do with the cooking, though.  May be beans and rice and hamburgers for a while.

Look at God looking at you...and smiling

We returned this weekend from 3 weeks of being at Lake Keowee (in Seneca, SC) with the fam.  What a wonderful time away - to be with family, to rest, to read, to swim, to eat our meals on the screened-in porch overlooking the lake, to enjoy seeing my kids and how much joy they had in swimming in the lake and playing the game Sorry.  Christine has already said that, when we retire, she wants to live on the water (I asked her if she wanted to buy a houseboat - haha).  I've never spent that much uninterrupted time with my family, and I'm grateful to Park Road, much more than words can express. 

These are pictures of our kiddos on the porch when I woke up one morning.     

  

Every morning, they would get up on their own, often fix their own breakfast and play quietly (at least, most of the time), while mommy, daddy, and Marian slept a little longer.  So grateful.  On the day I took these pictures, they both were reading on the porch.  Can't remember what West was reading.  I seem to remember he was hiding under the blanket and making some crazy noises, making his sister laugh uncontrollably.  Mattie was reading her dedication bible from church.  Since she can't read, she makes up her own stories about Jesus.  I need to have her tell me some of the stories so I can write them down. 

I was able to finish 2 books and begin a third.  I'm not much of a night-time reader, so the fact that I got this much reading done was pretty impressive.  My first book I finished - Between Heaven and Mirth: Why Joy, Humor, and Laughter are at the Heart of the Spiritual Life.  A quote from the book sums up what my time at the lake meant to me - "the 14^th century Hafiz (a Sufi) asks, 'what is this precious love and laughter budding in (my) heart? It is the sound of (my) soul waking up'.”

How good to have time away with my family, knowing that I could enjoy our time and not worry about if things were taken care of at church - they are, and I'm beyond grateful to all who are working hard to make sure it is so.

For some reason that I hope to work out during my time away, I am often searching for the drop of red paint in the can of white paint.  I get worn down with "all my responsibilities" - at work and at home, and life was becoming just a list of things I was doing.  I then begin to feel guilty - "what an awful way to go through life, thinking about your job that you love and your family that you love solely as responsibilities," I would say to myself.  I fell into the rut of routine and was struggling to get out of that rut.  My outlook on life was toward the darker side of life (I don't mean depression here - just looking at a glass half empty rather than half full).  While there are many things in my life that bring me joy, there was little evidence in my outward appearance (as opposed to my inward appearance - haha) that my life brought me any joy.

A few things in my first book I read by James Martin, a Jesuit priest, who is the official chaplain of the Colbert Report, helped me.   

1.  A joke:

A man comes into his company’s lunchroom one day and sits down next to his friend.  He opens his lunch bag, pulls out a sandwich, opens the wrapping, and peers down.  “Oh ugh,” he says to his friend.

“What’s the matter?” asks his friend.

“A cheese sandwich – I hate cheese sandwiches,” he says and glumly starts choking it down.  “They’re awful – so dry.”

The next day he sits down next to the same friend and opens his lunch bag.  “Oh, I can’t believe it,“ he says, “another cheese sandwich!”  His friend shakes his head sympathetically and watches his friend grimace as he eats the sandwich.

On the third day, the man once again sits down next to his friend and opens his lunch bag.  “Oh, brother,” he says, “another cheese sandwich!”

His friend says, “Boy, you really hate cheese sandwiches, don’t you?”]

“Yes!  I can’t stand them!”

Finally his friend says, “If you don’t mind me asking something, why don’t you just tell your wife to stop making you cheese sandwiches?”

“Oh,” says the man, “I’m not married.”

“Well, then, who makes your cheese sandwiches every day?”

“I do,” he said.

The joke, one that makes me chuckle (not gaffaw - just chuckle), says that I'm often responsible for my own predicament.  I do believe in the importance of community and that we journey together as one, so I don't believe that I'm solely responsible for my own predicament (in some way, God certainly factors into this as well), but there are things I can do.  I don't have to make cheese sandwiches that I don't like.  If I'm continuing to look for that one drop of red paint, what needs to change?  More time with my family?  Functioning and thinking differently at work?  Identifying what brings me joy and figuring out how to incorporate that into my life?  I think "yes" is the appropriate answer to all. 

The Dalai Lama said that joy and happiness flow from our actions.  I hope to find ways to live my life which lead to true joy and happiness.

2.  The examination of conscience via St. Ignatius Loyola - a 5 step prayer.

1.      Calling to mind the things for which you are grateful.

2.      Review the day and see where God was present and where you might have overlooked God

3.      Ask for the grace to see where you might have turned away from God and sinned.

4.      Ask for forgiveness for any sins you’ve committed

5.      Ask for the grace to see God more clearly the next day.

It was wonderful to be in the moment of the past 3 weeks - couldn't imagine being anywhere else.  I'm glad that I paused to reflect and give thanks.  I'm too often searching for that red paint and to pause to think about and pray about the things for which I'm grateful.  For me to take time to reflect on the ways I may have overlooked God's presence was very helpful for me.   

The title of the post is a quote from Anthony de Mello.  I really like it.  A paraphrase of Isaiah 62.4 - "God takes great delight in me".   It is good to be reminded that God doesn't just love me but God takes delight in me and enjoys my presence.  Sometimes, as a kid, I knew that my parents loved me but wasn't quite sure that my parents delighted in me. I hope that those in my life will be able to know that I take delight in them. 

Joy is a sign of God’s presence.  AMEN!



West, my parents, and I at the Braves game (they lost 5-0)



 

 

 

My heart hurts

My heart is still hurting over the news of the shooting death of Khalil, a friend from Enderly Park that I had the opportunity to spend some time with at our 2011 youth fall retreat.  So many people have spoken of his gentleness and how good a person he was.  I remember a particular story about Khalil that my friend Helms from Hyaets relayed to me on the day she found out about Khalil's untimely death.  There had been several things that had happened between 2 Park Road youth that Khalil interpreted as bullying.  While I wasn't a fan of Khalil's wanting to fight this supposed bully, I appreciated the fact that he was sticking up for the small guy.  Khalil - you will be missed.  We will remember you!

                                                              Khalil at Hyaets/PRBC 2011 fall retreat

My heart also hurts for Damien Wright, who was the shooter.  Of the news I've received, I believe that Khalil and Damien were friends and that Khalil's shooting was an accident.  I have been thinking about the pain that Damien must be going through, not because he's in jail, but because his actions led to the death of his friend.  I would include a picture here but the only one I have access to is his mug shot, and it's likely not reflective of who Damien is.

Let us all pray for an end to violence in all its forms.  Let us pray for Khalil and Damien's family and friends.  Let us pray for those people who help to care for those who are hurting. 

Lake Keowee, how do I love thee, let me count the ways

Sabbatical has begun.  If you'd like to read about what my Sabbatical will be about, click here.

We're camped out at my parent's lake house on Lake Keowee for the first 3 weeks away.  Here we are right before leaving on our trip to Seneca, SC

I'm focusing a lot of time away on play - how to be about serious playfulness and playful seriousness.  I'm still trying to decompress - haven't responded to any e-mails but have found myself reading some and thinking, "I need to make sure so-and-so knows about this" or "I wonder if I remembered to tell so-and-so about how to link the weekly reminders to facebook".  Happy to report I have not acted on those thoughts and really not planning to.

On our way to the lake, we stopped in Gaffney to eat at a restaurant that is right next to the big peach.  Every time we've passed the peach in the past, we have looked forward to seeing it.  It was good to get to stop and see it and take a picture by it.

          

                (we're under the G in Gaffney)        (close up pic by the peach)

Since we've been here, we've played in the lake a ton.

We've played the noodle game (you get to choose easy, medium, hard, or extra hard in terms of how far away the noodle is from the dock and you have to jump over it).

We've ridden the "quasi-ski" on the back of the boat (real skiing is coming soon).  We've pretended to be swimmers in the Olympics.  Daddy has to say "take your marks" and "boop" (sound of the horn, signaling it's time to jump in).

We've been playing the board game Sorry (we've not had any throwing of pieces or yelling as of yet)

We've also been playing the all-too-popular game of seeing how far we can throw pine cones off of the deck.  I haven't reached the lake with one yet - may require surgery on the throwing arm if I keep trying to. 

    

Today, we went to a local farm to pick some blueberries.  Thought it would be a great family outing.  As we were getting our instructions from the head honcho lady, West began to whisper to me, "don't let Mattie see it, don't let Mattie see it".  Pretty soon, a chicken comes waltzing up beside us.  For those of you who don't know, Mattie is very, very afraid of most animals that move quickly - rabbits, lizards, chickens, squirrels, chipmunks.  Not really sure where her fear comes from, but this is a fear that isn't a "hide-behind-daddy-because-I'm-shy" kind of fear but a "blood-curdling-screaming-if that thing comes any closer I'm gonna faint" kind of fear.  I'm sure the woman working there thought there was something very, very wrong with her - and with us!

After walking tentatively past the chickens, holding Mattie's hand all the way, we got to the blueberry bushes.  We began picking blueberries and thinking we were going to have a fine day

and we heard the all-too-familiar scream that pierced my ear drums.  "There's something in the bushes; it's moving", screamed Mattie.  This time, it was a woman who was working for the farm, picking blueberries.  Pretty soon, though, a chicken comes walking down from her home.  That was it.  Mommy and Mattie were off to the car, leaving Marian and West and me to pick any blueberries we were going to get for the day.

West was a trooper - picking a lot of good blueberries that I've already consumed.  I had to remember that I was the sole responsible adult (yikes!) for our little Marian.  There were times I got too engrossed in picking the lucious berries and not watching our 20 month old almost get into the blackberry thorns.  After about 15 minutes, West had had enough.  He had been picking in the hot sun and was thirsty and tired.  Marian had squooshed enough blueberries.  We walked back to check out.  As we checked out, I asked, "you take credit cards, right?"  Of course they didn't.  Thinking we didn't have any cash in the car, I asked her to hold our manna from heaven and I'd be back to pay her (we did end up having some cash in the car, and I enjoyed some sweet berries for lunch). 

As we were walking back to the car, Marian stopped to look at some little animal statues - rabbits, bears, cats, etc.  She was pointing and saying something - have yet to crack the code on what she was saying.  I found myself pulling her, telling her to come on. 

It finally dawned on me - I have time to stop and let Marian look at the animal statues, I have time to get down on her level and listen to her babble-speak, I have time to learn from her about how to dance and play, and all I could think about was my frustration that I didn't get to pick several gallons of berries and that they didn't take credit cards. 

Who better to learn from about play than a child - and I have 3 teachers at my disposal.  If I am to learn from them, I have to slow down, go at their pace (tidbit of info:  force yourself to walk at your child's pace, not force your child to walk at your pace - don't care how late you are to work or how frustrated you are with them), listen to them, see with their eyes. 

I've written enough - off to play Sorry.

Teach me, O wise ones.