On Escalation to DEFCON 2

My wife, the venerated "Suga Momma" is pregnant. Really? you ask, amazed. When is she due? you ask, politely feigning interest... and I say, well, 2 days ago.

She's ready.

...

When this baby comes it will be our 3rd child. I didn't ever expect to be a father three times. I think I always thought that if I had children I'd have two. And in some of my culture studies, and even in some of my environmental studies courses, have been presented with the idea that perhaps only having 2 children was the most responsible thing to do-the argument being that living in a highly over-privileged society, where 5 percent of the world-population consumes 25 percent of the world's resources, we have a false sense of abundance and are not so much over populating the world, as excessively consuming it.

But I've heard more than one argument on that topic. And I am swiftly heading off of the one I started on. So... like a open-sea pilot, I'm going to finesse/muscle this love-boat back onto its original course without even spilling my drink(s).

...

I remember when my first son was born. It was amazing. We (me and the momma) were both on cloud nine. He was born beautiful. AND he looked just like me. I think his being an infant was what saved him. As time passed he's come to resemble his mother quite a bit, though because of his red hair and very fair skin, people first see our resemblance.

He was a little cone headed when he was born, because they used the vacuum/suction cup on his bean, but we put a little white beanie on him, and he was just stunning. He had a full head of fine orange hair, and was pretty quiet. I didn't know what to expect. Maybe that's why it hit me like a tidal wave on a penthouse balcony. I just wasn't expecting it.

...

I remember when my second son was born too. I was scared to death. Nothing like the first. I don't know why I was so scared. In retrospect, I think I'd become accustomed to the mantle of responsibility from being a parent for 2 years. And as such I recognized the myriad dangers that opened up before us, and being in a hospital was only a mild comfort. I knew now what I had to lose, I think.

But there was something else-what if he was born, and I didn't get the dousing that I'd experienced when my first was born. What he was freaky looking? What if I didn't feel the rush of... anything?

Well, he was born, finally, and all the nurses were exclamatory, but I think that's actually written into their genetic code. Because he looked NOTHING like what I'd remembered from before. He was a) HUGE b) Bob the Tomato. He was SO red it was sort of unnerving.

And he just looked like a baby. I don't know how else to explain it. He looked completely normal. Except for being 23 lbs and red like a tomato. Besides all that he was totally normal looking. No halo, no glow, no sound of heavenly host, no nothing. A little crying. I was totally shocked. I remember thinking afterwards, "Ok, now what?"

...

Well, he's over 2 now, and his older brother is 4, going on 8. And I'm so completely knocked out with both of them that words will simply not suffice. So I won't even mar the process by trying.

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I realized, not sure, maybe 8 months? Maybe a year ago...I realized that #2 was getting the short end of the deal. It became apparent to me---and I can't remember how---that I was seeing him strictly as an accessory item for his older brother. He was always Tigger's little sidekick. The cog in my head slipped a tooth and I realized: though I had two sons, EACH of them only had ONE dad.

It's sort of like discovering that your best friend just used you to cover his own butt. I mean, not literally, but it was that sort of radical shift in paradigms for me. Here's what happened. I lost the central spot in my little world. Instead of being a dad with two sons, I WAS the dad to two sons. Does that make sense? "With" (personal possession) became "to" (relative to something/someone else).

And doors flew open. They slammed open. There were holes in walls from doorknobs, and the floor littered with the screw heads that snapped off door-jamb hinge-plates. Fresh, clean wind blew through my heart and I loved my son. I loved both of my sons, and became a dad that could be uniquely experienced by each of them in the way that they each uniquely experienced being my son.

I gained a son. And I have a very special love for him because it took me so dreadfully long to find it.

...

So I hear my Suga-momma in the other room. She periodically groans (ok, the truth is she's been doing quite a bit of groaning this last month or so) as she moves from one position to another. She's working from home. Partly because she's so uncomfortable, partly because BEING uncomfortable in public can make other people uncomfortable. We're hoping she goes into full on labor soon. She was induced with Tigger, and, well, let's just say things went significantly better with Mo, and much of it because she went into labor on her own.

So we wait. I'm not scared. Not like I was. Honestly, I'm really excited to meet this kid, and find out what God is doing in our family now.

...

unbelievable value here...

Well, we bought the farm.

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Ok. Let's unpack that: we recently received an offer on our house, and came to terms on an acreage that we have had our eyes on for over a year. It's exciting, but daunting.

We've always had a small vegetable garden here but every year that we've had it, by September it's an overgrown mess of a jungle, and clear-cut logging is the only merciful option for putting that little plat of mismanaged, under-attended eco-disaster out of its sad state.

WELL, we think we can do better than that. So now we're shooting for entire acres of overgrown, mismanaged, under-attended eco-disasters. No more small time for us. We're going for whole eco-systems.

...

We moved into our current house from a small apartment. Probably, 600 square feet? Time sort of fogs, but it wasn't big. Most of our furniture was "re-claimed." In fact, I don't think we had a piece of "new" furniture until a couple years AFTER we bought the house. Our living room was entirely empty for a long while. We had lots of help moving, so we were doing like a bucket brigade down the stairs and most of the way to the curb. I think it took us 3 hours to load the truck at the apartment, drive to the house and unload it. Then it was pizza 0'clock, and we were happy. This time...well, I don't think it's going to be as simple...

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We started packing this past week. Well, sort of. We actually started packing about 12 months ago. Then we started UNpacking about 6 months ago. Now, here we are, packing again. We started in the built-ins. That went pretty quick, because though there's lots of wrapping and paper and what-not, it just went easy.

Now it's the closets. Eeeesh.

My boys, especially the oldest, LOVE puzzles. Tigger has shown M-A-D puzzle skills and dominates on them over and over again. The younger...well, he thinks the puzzle pieces are cool, but on a more individual basis. He's more interested in their unique stories, and big on respecting their individuality it would appear, whereas Tigger is all about collective value and community. I guess what I'm sort of stepping around is that Tig puts the puzzles together. His younger brother...well, he just throws pieces into several small piles.

So we sat down and started separating puzzle pieces. Elmo goes here, Sesame street goes here, Spidey and his little X-Men friends go here, etc. etc. Well, we happen to have 5 Cars (c) puzzles. 4 come out of one box-a set of 4, and have similar size and graphics. Then there's this other one, that's different and has it's own box. But they're all Lightning Muh-'twween (as he is known in these parts). So as far as Younger is concerned, by virtue of all being Cars puzzle pieces, they all go in one pile. I thank him, and while he runs back to the main pile of puzzle pieces, I try to weed out the unique pieces of the 5th puzzle from the 4. He comes back, and dumps pieces from the 5th puzzle into a pile with the other 4, recognizes that I've separated some, and grabs those pieces and puts them BACK with the other 4. I thank him for his help, and recognize how ridiculous I had been to separate what has been brought together, and he goes back to work.

Yeah. Thanks. A-Lot.

...

Why do I thank him? Because I don't see any point in scolding him. Because he's enjoying time working with me. Because...he's trying.

Is he really trying? Yes. Is he really helping? No. Most definitely not. But I thank him anyway. In the end, the only reason I'm including him, the only reason I'm going out of my way to recognize his contribution to society is to reward him for trying, and encourage him to try again. Maybe next time he'll actually be of some assistance...

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Have you ever met a celebrity? Maybe not like Justin Timberlake. Just a celebrity in your own mind will suffice-of course excluding yourself... I've had the opportunity to have conversations with people who in my mind are celebrities. They're not pop stars or regulars on "E" network programming. But they are in some way bigger than my regular life. And for the most part they've all been gracious, acting like their day has been improved by their meeting me that day, or our conversation. And I think that as "normal people" we all accept that as a token of our icon's graciousness, not of genuine edification. I mean, they haven't necessarily gotten much out of the meeting as much as they have learned over time that the collective value of those experiences keeps careers floating and dynamic. Right? And we expect that from our celebrities.

...

When I want to really think I mow. Sometimes, I just have to mow because the snakes are building towers to the sky in the tall grass, and I sort of resign myself to that fact by baiting myself with the prospect of some good "think" time. But I also have a rule that mowing deserves a beer if done thoroughly. Regardless of time. One mow=one beer. Period. So there's that too. Used to be One Mow = 3 cigarettes and 1 beer. But we quit smoking, so it's just beer. I guess that's still a pretty good deal. But I'm digressing. Again.

So there I am, mowing along the edge of my lawn, marveling at how the edge always stays long no matter how I track the mower. It just lays down flat and then I drive over it, and it sort of looks up to see that I've passed and begins to stand up and do it's thing again: look sloppy.

So there I am. And I realize how my boy's "helping" is both similar and different from how I am asked to partner with God!

I thank my boys for their help because I want them to feel like they are appreciated, and I do this in spite of the fact that they are actually slowing me down, and usually create MORE work to be done. So, the thanks I give is sort of like a down-payment on some future return of actual assistance that is all but invisible on the very distant horizon.

The celebrities in our lives thank us, they woo us, they tell us they "love us" constantly, but mostly because that is what they need to do to maintain a steady stream of cash. Or good will. or whatever. But I don't suppose they actually attach all that much value to those relationships. Do you?

But Jesus tells his disciples, "I call you my friends" as they linger on an after-dinner walk. He says that "there is no greater love is there than when a man lays down his life for his friends."

And that is all sort of secondary to the thought that I was having as I attempted to mow the long grass that lays down across my sidewalk. God attaches so much value to the work that we do that it actually has an impact on the holiness of HIS name. It is for the sake if HIS name, HIS image and reputation, if you can swallow that, that He causes us to walk in paths of righteousness (check out Psalm 23).

He attaches so much value to our work that He accuses the stiff necked of blemishing the value of His name to the gentile nations! Now stick with me for a second while I walk myself through that. He proclaims through the prophet Ezekiel that "It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am going to do these things, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations where you have gone." (Ezekiel 36) This is a sort of negative example of what I'm trying to say, but what I recognized is this: What we do, how we live actually has an impact on God. In this example, it was more bad than good, but none-the-less, it made a difference to Him.

God intends our lives to be purpose-filled. We are made for special purposes. Whether we think they are special or not is sort of up to us, but to God, it's already been decided: We can do what he wants and actually bless Him, adding to His Kingdom and fulfilling our divinely ordained purposes. And He is genuinely pleased by this. Remarkable?!! I wrote in a prior post that sometimes I get that feeling-Who is man that anyone should give a damn? But God attaches value to my work. Astounding. So much so that it affects the sheen or tarnish on His very Name! His very Glory! Even as I write this I find it so remarkable. And yet it is what He says.

He leads me in paths of righteousness,

For His Name's sake...