Response

Weddings are wonderful events. With flowers and ribbons strung all over the room, people are bustling around trying to make everything perfect. It is a carefully planned chaos that produces an enjoyable experience for everyone in attendance and for two of the people it will be life changing. Up to the last second, there is usually at least one person still tufting this or that arrangement, ensuring every detail is just so. Family and friends begin to arrive wearing their best. Weddings usually transform into an impromptu family reunion and emotions that were already elevated will overflow into hugs and squeals and the occasional cheek pinching from one’s aunt. As the moment approaches, conversations swell and the excitement climbs. The pastor or officiate enters and people start to find their seats for the main event. Men adjust their ties and straighten their jackets for the last time and the women smile and wave at friends from across the room as they smooth out the wrinkles on their laps.

The music strikes up and the conversations begin to die down. The groom and his groomsmen march in single file to the front and center of attention. All of them nervous that they will be the one to faint in front of everybody. But the attention on the front of the room is short lived because everyone there knows what happens next.

Before the miles of tulle were being strung from the rafters and before the guests arrived, the bride was preparing herself. She is not only preparing herself to look composed enough to parade in front of everyone she knows. She is preparing herself for her groom. When those doors open and he sees her there, it will be a moment remembered by both of them for the rest of their lives. She will work to make herself the most beautiful she has ever been. Hair, nails, dress, makeup, something old, new, borrowed, blue and every piece must be perfect. She wants so badly to present herself at her very finest to the person she longs to be with for the rest of her life. She is anxious but confident of the groom’s reaction. He knows her better than anyone else. He has seen her on her best day and has stuck with her through the rough ones. The relationship between them is not determined by her appearance but she desires to impress him nonetheless.

The music swells and the doors swing wide to reveal the bride in all of her splendor. The crowd in attendance rises and stands in reverence. As she steps forward into the light, she locks eyes on the one person that she is there for, the groom. His eyes instantly swell up but he pulls back the tears. He promised he wouldn’t cry but more importantly, he doesn’t want to miss a single second of her procession. She walks slowly as the details of her appearance are taken in by all around her. Her countenance is regal as she glides toward the front of the room. His palms are sweaty as the severe reality strikes him. She is soon to be his and he, hers. The moment they have been waiting weeks, months and in some cases, years has finally arrived.

Weddings are also just an event. It is a public declaration of a personal relationship that has already been established. Nothing changes between the two people meeting on the stage. They came together loving each other and when they leave they will still love each other only now they have a signed piece of paper stating it. They will share their vows to one another out loud in front of everyone declaring the level of commitment they have for the other, but those vows were made long before that moment with a quiet whisper of resolve in their hearts.

The ceremony itself is an outward display of what the two people are promising to each other. It might involve a candle lighting or a rope braiding or a walk together around the altar. In some cases, poems or songs are exchanged together with rings and vows. If you have been to more than one wedding, you have probably noticed some similarities in the service. One or more of three verses from scripture will be read. The officiate will announce several statements that will sound familiar almost to the point where you know what they will say next. The order of services is very similar and if you were to see a picture or watch a video of a wedding taking place, it wouldn’t take you long to know what was happening because weddings, for the most part, all look somewhat the same too. The special part of a wedding is what can not be seen. Two people promising themselves to each other before the people present and before God. The outward display of an inward emotion toward another is the reason we celebrate.

But our celebration takes on an interesting form at a wedding. While everyone one present is excited and hearts are fluttering, we sit still and listen. We watch and we reflect on our own relationships and remember the promises we have made perhaps to the person sitting next to us. As a single person at a wedding, it might cause you to look forward with hope to a similar future with someone special or to look around with contentment at the life you have created for yourself. Tears of happy reflection and quiet joy flow as the vows are repeated. No one shouts. No one stands up and draws the attention to themselves. Although you have been invited to participate, this event is not just about you. It is about all of us sharing in something special.

When we gather to worship, whether it be in song or giving or any other type of corporate worship, the response should be similar. There are places and events that we should absolutely dance and shout for Jesus, but when we gather together we should be mindful of those around us. Perhaps they do not have such a close and familiar relationship with God. Maybe they have never heard, let alone studied, about the spiritual gifts sometimes expressed in church services. We should be taking the time as a body to reflect inwardly on our relationship with God and our commitment to Him. We should be reverent of the members of the body leading us through worship. We should feel welcome to participate not just individually but as a body. We should sing together, give together, pray together, confess together, encourage together. There is a tone of formality that goes along with a church service or a worship time, but that is there as a structure to help guide us to closer worship and eliminate distractions not to box us in.

We are the bride and our focus should be on the bridegroom and the promise we made in our hearts to Him. We have dedicated our lives to Him, and He has given His life for us. Our response to Him should be one of celebration, respect, sincerity, and joy.

Lessons Learned

It was the last day of my senior year in high school. I had already met the hours requirement to graduate so I had taken a slew of classes keeping in line with my feelings about my last year here. Advanced American Literature, Weight Lifting, Creative Writing II, Home Economics, and Drama.

I had always experienced severe anxiety when it came to being in front of people, as early on as 2nd grade show and tell, but here I was taking drama. It was a requirement to participate in the school productions and I auditioned like I was supposed to not realizing I would end up a principle player in both an ensemble production and a musical that year. I enjoyed the class and it taught me a lot about what I was capable of and how to be comfortable outside my safe, normal group of friends and how to relax and have fun in front of strangers. This was a set of skills I would use almost everyday, at work, at church, just about everywhere. I learned other valuable lessons there but some of the most important lessons were learned the very last day of class.

Each teacher does their own thing the last week of school. Some want to cram as much last minute knowledge into you to help prepare you for the world ahead of you. Some want to allow you to express yourself while still within the safe confines of a controlled classroom setting. The teachers that have been around long enough understand however, the majority of the student body has really already mentally checked out and doesn't care or appreciate anything to be learned in those last days. My drama teacher understood this better than anyone. He prepared us the day before, we would be learning a new skill we didn't know we had. We rolled our eyes, determined not to be impressed as the bell rang and we all filed out.

When we came back to class the next day, the room was empty. No desk, no chairs, not even the platform we used for practicing our skits. The floor was bare. The only thing remaining was the handful of playbills and posters from previous performances hanging on the wall. We were each given an item to hold. Some had tennis balls, others had hacky sacks, and a handful of us were issued socks filled with sand. "In the next five minutes, if you do what I tell you to do exactly as I tell you, you will all learn how to juggle. We will spend the rest of the class time practicing." We scoffed. How would he do this? Teach all of us? To juggle? Isn't juggling something it takes months for professional clowns to learn? Does he think we are only capable of being clowns?

Unbeknownst to most of us, our teacher was a an avid juggler. He would go to carnivals and amusement parks over the summer and juggle full time. He started us out slowly, showing us how to toss the object back and forth. Once we got comfortable with one, he gave out second items and walked us through the over/under. After about two minutes, we were given a third item and with in the promised five minutes, the entire class was juggling. Soon we were teaming up and tossing things across the room between six of us. He gathered us in a circle and we all juggled together crisscrossing back and forth.

The bell rang and we left class with a strange new ability. Occasionally over the summer, I would pick up some tangerines out of the fruit bowl or grab three rocks off the path and just toss them around. I am still not even close to professional status, but I can juggle just about anything for a little while. Staplers, hatchets, basketballs, you name it.

But juggling was not all I learned on the last day of school. What I learned was I wasn't done learning. If I try something new and practice, I can figure out just about anything. I watched a great teacher take a group of skeptical kids and reveal to them an ability they didn't know they had. He took five minutes and gave us all, not just a new trick, but an icebreaker for parties, a boredom buster for those long lines we would endure when appearing for jury duty, and an opportunity to encourage others. Every chance I get, I teach people to juggle. Watching them struggle at first is always entertaining but seeing them realize their own capabilities in the end is magical.

That day revealed a lot to me about myself. I love to learn. I love to teach. I have talents even I don't know about. Never in a million years did I think that last day of school would be one of the most educational.

Let's Take a Bath

My son gets filthy easily. He collects dirt and grime in places I didn't know were possible from things I didn't know you could get dirty from. He is a typical boy so he loves to play outside and pick up dirt and sticks and of course the occasional bug here and there, but he will get dirty just playing Legos or trucks inside. My wife and I are not the “sanitize the shopping cart before you put a child in it” kind of parents. We both grew up in big families where if you didn't eat the cookie that fell on the floor, you were not getting a cookie. We both survived childhood just fine. At the same time, we don’t want to be the parents of the smelly kid. Bath time is a must. Fortunately, we have a good bath taker. As soon as I say the words, “Let’s take a bath”, his eyes light up and he runs to the guest bathroom.

Confession: I am a little OCD. By that I mean, for me, there is a right and a wrong way of doing almost everything. My morning routine is ridged. So strict in fact, if I try to sleep in even a few minutes or skip my shower (I’m talking Saturdays here. Don’t judge me) my entire day is thrown off and I get sick to my stomach and feel physically terrible all day. Needless to say, I handle bath time in the same way.

Since day one (or more correctly day 3) I have walked him through his bath routines step by step. I talk him through everything. Getting adjusted to the water temperature, what parts of his body we are scrubbing, and of course, the best way to splash around and make bubbles. Now that he is 1 ½, the routine begins before we even get in the water.

When bath time is announced, we both go to the door of the bathroom and he waits for me to turn on the light. Once illuminated, the bathroom becomes our new play place. While I move the shower curtain out of the way and get the water and bubbles going, his job is to pick what toys he wants in with him. We have a small shower caddy with the bath toys and he will pick them out one by one. In no particular order, the boat, the guy, the fish, the whale, the blue cup, the baby frog, the daddy frog, and the toot-toot. And they will eventually all go in, but he will pull one out, try to say its name, and throw it into the roaring water.

Once the water is started and the toys are in, we have just enough time while we wait for the bath to fill up, for us to go get ready. He runs over to his room, and waits for me at his changing table so we can take his clothes off. Once ready to go, I pick him up around his chest facing me. Why do I carry him like that? Because “mommy likes the booty”. My wife will hide on either side of his door and surprise him with butt pinches as we walk across the hall back to the bath. It is one of his favorite parts and he squeals and laughs and kicks his little chubby legs as fast as he can every time. I have no intention of changing that portion of our routine anytime soon.

I set him in the water and he begins to talk to his toys placing “the guy” on “the boat” and making car noises as he moves it through the piles of bubbles. As I pour water on his head and back he cringes to adjust to the warmth. I lather his head and start washing him talking him through each part. Neck and ears first and then it’s ears, shoulders, arms, hands, back, belly, legs, and toes. He keeps playing and I sit back and watch him. He is so big. I know when other people look at him they see a tiny child, but I see a big boy, learning and growing everyday. I saw him the very second he entered this world, helpless and unsure, needing constant soothing and care. Now he plays on his own in the water. I am needed less and less as a comfort as he becomes steadily more independent. It is at this moment he again surprises me.

He turn his head to look over at me, knowing I would be watching him. He grins, seeing his assumptions were correct, and scoots closer to the tub wall where I am kneeling. He puts down “the baby frog”, cocks his head to the side, and reaches for me. Not to pick him up or to convince me to play. He grabs my finger tightly as though he were tiny once again and doing it for the first time. Then he slowly caresses my hand, turning it over to check the other side. Satisfied, he looks at the other hand and touches my ring. He wiggles it back and forth to see it shine in the light. He laughs out loud, smiles again at me, and goes back to splashing, making as much noise doing so as he can.

Water is everywhere. The bath mat I am kneeling on is soaked and the shirt I am wearing looks like I just got back from the gym on a cardio day. The towel I have on the floor next to me is no longer able to dry anything. I should get a new one while he is distracted, but I wait. I honestly do not want to miss a second of the fun. We play with the frogs and we pass the blue cup back and forth making funny noises into it. A few more minutes and bath time is over. We start to drain the water and he hands me one toy at a time to put back into the caddy. I grab a second dry towel and wrap it around him as I scoop him up in my arms. He giggles and makes noises with his tongue as I dry him off.

Before we leave to go put pajamas on and begin our get-ready-for-bed routine, we make funny faces at the mirror. Looking at the reflection, I see a happy boy making silly faces, laughing with his best friend… his son.

Tiny Moment

It really is too early. The sun is not up yet. The birds are not even awake. After forcing myself out of bed and into the shower, struggling each step of the way, I am finally ready to begin. I may have already walked around a while and gone through the motions of what little it takes to get a man dressed in the morning, but only now am I slowly waking up. The only sound I can hear is the baby monitor echoing the music from my son’s sound machine throughout the living room. The same lullaby on repeat at a soft volume interrupted only occasionally by a cough or a heavy sigh and even sometimes, the tiniest and cutest of snores.

I put my shoes on and fill my pockets with the days supplies; wallet, keys, phone, note to myself to email that guy later today. Check.

My son has been growing so much lately. They say time flies by and before you know it they are grown up and have children of their own. It is completely true. They really do grow up fast, but in the morning, I still get to enjoy him as a little one in a few small ways. He still drinks milk for breakfast with me and so I make him a cup and I pick up some toys left out from before.

Then I hear it. The small squeak of his crib in the monitor as he starts shuffling himself awake. He hears me moving around in our tiny apartment. He can hear when I turn the water on for my shower and the fridge door opening when I reach for the milk. All of these noises must be a comfort to him since he wakes up so quietly. He will coo to himself quietly and wiggle in his bed until I come in to get him.

This part has become my favorite of our morning routine in the last several months. As I slowly open the door and let the light from the other room peek into his, I see only his short silhouette sitting up in the corner. He has his blanket wrapped all around himself. He gets that from his mother. He looks up at me and smiles at me with eyes not quite opened. I whisper to him “good morning”. He sighs heavily with a grin still fixed between those two chipmunk cheeks.

I lean over the railing and scoop him up under his arms and his blanket comes along. He leans back from my chest to double check that it’s me. He smiles once more but then the smile goes flat and I think we may have a noisy morning ahead of us. As his smile fades, his head droops and our foreheads softly meet. He sighs heavily again and turns his head to rest it on my shoulder. He is tired but not sleeping. Awake but not eager to leave my arms. His music plays on and the hall light is still dim all around us.

He just breathes. I rub his back. We sway slowly side to side as the lullaby serenades us repetitively. He snuggles into me pulling my shoulder closer to himself. I squeeze him gently as not to disrupt this rare minute of pure cuddling. For several minutes we stand there, him in my arms feeling safe and resting and me not too sure what is happening or why. Thought start racing in my head; “we are going to be late”, “I hope he isn’t sick”, “don’t stop rubbing his back or else he’ll start moving again”. And then the moment sinks in and I am at peace. It doesn’t matter if we are a few minutes late. Enjoy him. Love him. Make sure he feels like there is nothing else in the world that matters, and in this one second in time, nothing else does. I stop rocking him and hold my hand still on the middle of his back and feel his little heartbeat. The same heartbeat that two years ago changed my world forever now is what fills my heart with love and peace.

I softly squeeze him again and he sits up, smiles at me, and rests his forehead on mine. Still smiling at one another, we stand there for a moment more before he turns his cheek and presses it to my lips. I kiss him as he takes another big breath and settles back again into my arms.

I lay him down and change him. We walk to the kitchen and he drinks his milk. We get his bag ready together and head out to the car. As I carry him to the car he rests his head on my shoulder once more and laughs, sits up again and smiles revealing all eight or so teeth.

Today was much like every other day. We did all the same things we normally do. Tomorrow will be another. But today I was ten minutes late for work and I do not at all feel sorry about that.

Morning Adventures Part II

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Let's go.

The breeze is stiff and cold mimicking the way my legs feel. I jump a little to get the blood flowing and to remind my feet that they need to be awake for this. As I make my way to the end of the driveway doing arm stretches I learned in gym class circa 1987. Arm circles are totally what I need to do to prepare for the workout ahead.

One more deep breath knowing it will be my last full intake for a while and I begin. Pat, pat, pat, pat. I watch my feet move one in front of the other, almost not having to think about it but feeling tired already. I make it to the end of the block before my knee starts to freeze up and my ankle tightens to compensate. Stupid ankle. I push on trying to take in the early morning and savor it's innocence.

There is no one else out on the street but me. My neighbors are awake but they had the sense to remain indoors with their warm cups of coffee and their comfy couches. I see the windows glow with the flicker of the television set on the morning news or perhaps the infomercial on from the channel being watched the night before. That vacuum is amazing I must admit but I am sure the only purpose it serves this early is as background noise for teeth brushing and face shaving. I wonder how many of those vacuums they sell at 5:10 in the morning...

The yellow house with the brick mailbox catches my attention as the lawn sprinklers come to life. Someone doesn't understand that grass doesn't need to be watered twice a day this late in the fall. Oh well. I jog past the streams of water, being soothed by the soft shhhhh of the spray. I race the overflow in the gutter to the corner and make the turn thinking here would be a good spot to stop and take a breather but I hear my high school track coach's voice in my head telling my to "pick your feet up" and "mind over matter". He was also the science teacher so he used that last one a lot.

I take the advice to heart and press on. A dog barks which of course on this block leads to all the dogs barking at each other. Once the chatter dies down and I focus again on my breath or lack thereof. The road stretches out ahead of me, beckoning me to conquer it. Just you wait road. You'll get what's coming to you soon enough.

Morning Adventure Part I

Chimes.

What I thought would be the least annoying of the cell phone alarms, seem to come from a demon's triangle at 5am. After straining to reach it, and fumbling with it to get my code entered and the alarm turned off, my brain is officially strained before any real activity begins. I sigh heavily and fling my feet off the side of the bed in one motion. I have the same feeling I get when I jump into a pool in mid October but it's always better than the slow adjustment and eventual disappointment of slippers and a housecoat.

Tripping over my own foot and jamming my toe on the carpet, I make my way to the bathroom. Just to pee. Looking in the mirror at this hour of the day has never done anyone any good. One more heavy sigh, and I open the door as quietly as possible to not disturb my love who has now moved over to my side of the bed and already has a firm grip on my pillow. Looks like I'm not crawling back into bed after all.

I grab a pair of shorts from the dresser, and head to the living room. I don't know why, but I like getting ready here. More space I guess to spread out. I lace up my shoes and grab a light jacket from the coat closet, check my pocket for the house key and although I know she remains asleep, I slowly open and close the front door like a ninja as I tiptoe outside.

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Let's go.

Epitaph For A Friend

He was the best friend that made other friends more comfortable. He was the dedicated and loyal one I came home to for years. He made himself available no matter what. When I needed someone to talk to or go out with, he was always there to encourage me. No matter what time of day or night, he was there for me. He listened, he cared, he felt what I felt. He came to me when he was hurting and I clung to him in times when I felt so alone.

At 3:15pm on October 19th, my closest friend in the world was laid to rest in the company and comfort of his family.

Tyson was not just my dog he was my boy. This wound up 2 year old puppy was given to me by a close friend, Mike, and it was an obvious instant connection. He came to me as a dog without a purpose but his purpose was soon revealed. As things in my world slowly came apart, he was my constant. He was with me on beautiful days outside chasing squirrels and sleeping on the floor beside me in front of the fireplace on the rainy ones. We shared the couch for movie nights and shared the comfort of each other on a daily basis.

Waking up to his whining in the morning on days I tried to sleep in. Playing tug of war with the rope and fetch with the stuffed duck. Running up and down the stairs a dozen times in a row. Scratching his belly and rubbing his ears. Wiping his slobber off my arm and his hair off my clothes. Feeding him, training him, teaching him tricks. He could jump up to the top bunk on a set of beds, roll over, shake hands, and respond to a series of clicks, whistles, and hand signals. These were my daily activities with him and I loved every minute of it.

If you were a child he would only play as hard as you wanted. If you were afraid of dogs, he would set you at ease. He was comforting and kind. He was loving and thoughtful. He was considerate and sweet.

He was a good dog.

He has been a key member of my family for over 8 years and has meant something special to many. He was the deciding factor on some major life choices my family made including where we moved and how we lived. Many of our plans revolved around his schedule and I believe he understood that sacrifice.

He was the best dog.

I believe he knew me better than many of my friends have. He has been with me through 5 moves, a divorce a marriage, and the torture of my newborn niece. He was my sole travel companion on my trip to California in the backseat of my tiny car. He adjusted well to the dramatic changes we experienced together and he did it with patience and understanding.

In the last year his health has quickly declined and it has been hard watching him hurt physically knowing he was completely content being with us. It was a hard decision and a tough day but I know he understood that I was taken care of and that what was happening was for his own good. I sat with him afterward for a long time feeling his fur under my fingers for the last time. He sighed hard and let go softly.

I will miss him because I loved him.

He was my best friend.