2016 Stories & Thoughts
Comedy in Fatherhood. March 12, 2016
Sandy is away in Ohio for two days, speaking for one session at a women’s conference this afternoon about “Peace in the midst of a Chaotic Life” or something like that. She’s a good wife and mother. We miss her. I do not multi-task well, so I figure that this weekend I will focus mostly on being a father.
Last night, I took the six children out as a kind of celebration for all the work that Brianna, Avery, and Ben did in memorizing Scriptures for MACSA Bible quizzing. Each of their teams ended up in the AA division. They did not come home with trophies, but they did memorize 293 verses, John 13 to 21, front and back, inside and out. They have the opportunity to carry the greatest trophy of all, the cross of Jesus Christ!
"Five Guys, Burgers and Fries" has good but expensive food—it is not set up well for six children and a father who does not multi-task. We first took two round, high tables with high stool-chairs, but Caleb’s high chair was about 2 feet from the top of the table. So I moved Caleb over to a counter table with Corinne, which meant we were spread over three spaces. No problem, Dad is happy and smiling, enjoying his children, and peaceful. Our number is called, we get the bag of burgers and the bag of fries, and the distribution process proceeds reasonably well. I give Caleb pieces of a burger, he chortles with delight and begins to eat, and then two tables clear down the way that look more suited for us. We make a logistical decision to regroup everyone to those two tables beside each other so we can celebrate together as one unit rather than three separate entities. I keep Caleb in his high chair and just move the high chair over there, but he resists with loud cries, gnashing of teeth, and arching of the back. I quickly put fries in front of him, but he is not consoled until I get the burger pieces in front of him. Wow, I never knew our two year old was so emotionally attached to food! He needs more training, Dad.
We traded stories about life, quizzing, friends, jokes, etc. Then for some reason middle son’s metal chair scooted out from under him and bounced along most of the tile floor, crashing and banging loudly. Middle son had been leaning forward in his chair and fell onto the floor while the chair clanged behind him. The whole placed stopped. Everyone looked our way. We all smiled and kind of laughed, and I announced loudly “Oh, just so you know, we are here!” Middle son looked a little sheepish. Middle daughter then spilled a cup full of ice all over. Not a big deal, but a commotion anyway. Youngest daughter, for reasons still unknown, fell face forward from the bench onto the floor. As I went to assist her in getting back up, I expected loud cries, gnashing of teeth, and arching of the back. She was brought right side up onto the bench, and all she looked was red-faced, a little embarrassed, and none the worse physically. We continued eating, talking, and laughing, but some of the neighboring restaurant patrons could not stop gazing our way. Not to worry. We did not present a picture of organized peace, but I think we did have a good time and laughed a good bit. We got ready to leave, and after Caleb was taken out of his high chair, he disappeared. I think I was trying to help youngest daughter, when one of the children asked where Caleb was. They went looking, and Caleb had gone behind the counter to watch the workers flip burgers. My two year old, entrepreneur. Just as were getting ready to head out, Caleb tried to take a drink of water and spilled the cup right in the middle of the restaurant. The patient worker said he would get a mop and take care of it. He was taking time then to finish sweeping up our mess under and around the table.
Eldest daughter, the adventurous one, asked if we could go over to Michael’s, the art store nearby. I am not a big fan of shopping alone, so shopping with six children is a stretch, but hey what the world, this is part of fatherhood. Caleb had a very stinky mess, we could all smell it, I did not have a diaper along, but let’s try out this Michael’s thing. We entered the front of the building and middle son went running up the down escalator. I put my hands to my mouth and made a loud bass-voiced call: “Security, security, we have a boy running up the down escalator!” The couple in front of us looked back at me, then over at middle son, confused. Security did not come. We made it up both escalators and into the store. It turned out all right. We bought three items for a total of $3 something. Middle son at one point said that he found a great deal: “Dad, buy one thing and get the second for double the price!” I laughed at this, but eldest son clarified quickly that he had made that joke up before and middle son stole it. Such is life in a non-copyright family.
“Dad, if I could have one thing in this store, you know what it would be?” I did not know, so middle son then went over to the “Line starts here” sign, lifted it off, and showed me: “Isn’t this cool, Dad?” What else could I do? I laughed. While waiting in line to buy those few items, Caleb’s mess really started to smell, so eldest son offered to take him out. I completed the purchase, walked out of the store with several of the children, and found my three boys riding up and down the escalators. As we were going down the escalator, eldest daughter looked up at me, suggested something, and nearly fell when the escalator reached the bottom. It was a narrow escape.
On the way home we talked about names. Middle son wants to have eight children and name them all Jimmy. Middle daughter wants to have fourteen children and give them all names that rhyme with hers. Youngest daughter asked “Why did the gum cross the road?” We didn’t know. “Because it was stuck to the bottom of the chicken’s foot.” She heard that from her funny friend, Liam.
Fatherhood is a great gift, really. Laughing together with the children does not happen nearly as often as it could. So I pray that Sandy will have a good day at the women’s conference, that her “Peace in the Midst of a Chaotic Life” talk will go well, and that we will embrace all that God has for our family today.
Rich
Three months late, a day early, and right on time
07.22.2016 It has been over ten years since I have decided that I don’t put much stock in what is often called “coincidence.” God’s sovereignty and man’s free will together bring all of our choices, random and planned, into something more than coincidence. The end result will probably surprise many when it is all over. But I just don’t see coincidence fitting in with that surprise.
We walked into a “coincidence” today that reminded me to be on the lookout for God’s touch. Somewhere. Anywhere! Please God, speak! For me and Sandy, our 18 year anniversary back in June had not even had a night out to eat, so we had been looking to plan a getaway. The clock was ticking three months late, so two days ago I confirmed that a “Night at the Cove” at the Billy Graham Training Center in Asheville, NC, had a cancelation that would make us able to attend a dinner and a concert with the Christian music group Selah, with lodging available right there. Sandy was ecstatic, I was feeling rather smug about my husbandly care, and we arranged with three different families to help us with childcare for our six children. We hopped in the car, drove two hours, and made it there a few minutes early to check in.
The security guard at the gate could not find our name on his list. Not a big deal. I knew Brenda Abernathy’s name from reservations and said that she had helped us get the reservation for the Selah concert two days ago after someone had canceled. The guard’s face softened a bit. “Sir, that Selah concert is on the 15th. This is the 14th.”
My mouth went dry, my toenails curled, and I looked sideways at my wife. “Uh, I think I read on your website that it is on Wednesday night the 15th,” I said hopefully.
“I’m sorry, it is on the 15th, but the 15th is tomorrow night, Thursday evening.”
Oh, brother.
Sandy and I conversed briefly with this caring security guard who had just informed us that our plans were ruined. He advised us to go in to the welcome center, sit down and regroup, see if we should “punt” as he called it and come back, or maybe see if we should spend the night. He said that just twenty minutes earlier another person had come with plans to come to the Selah concert and left saddened that her dates were mixed up.
The next 60 minutes were not my finest hour. After speaking amongst ourselves and with the reservations department, we decided to put our best foot forward, get in the car and drive 2 hours back home, pick up all of our children from their respective homes, and try again tomorrow. Believe me, this decision was not made in a vacuum without exploring a number of other options. I even thought of some un-nameable options which I did not give voice to, which is just as well. It reminds me of the warning label on the Japanese-made electric kitchen knife that says tersely “Not to be used for the other use.”
The piece of news that cemented the decision to return home was that our reservation was non-refundable because of the late confirmation. I turned off the phone, threw it on the floor near the brake pedal, and drove off, stone-faced and grumpy. What a trip.
Three miles down the road, we stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts. The first Dunkin’ Donuts since New York City, actually. I told Sandy I need some good coffee. We had a brief interlude in the car while she asked me why I was angry, and why couldn’t I just let it go? I explained that if I stuff the emotion of anger it will come up later, and Sandy wondered if I could just express the emotions of joy and peace on the way home. That did make me smile a little, as I explained that I could not find any emotions of joy and peace in me at the moment, and how am I to express joy and peace when I am just plain mad? Let me be clear, this scheduling snafu was my fault; she was not to blame.
I was waiting for Sandy outside Dunkin’ when a thought came to me. “Rich, this is not a coincidence. There has got to be another reason you drove all the way up to Asheville, NC. What could it be?” The mountains were all around us, the sky was beautiful. This could not be a coincidence.
As I pondered that, I thought we should look for a church nearby to see if we could talk to a pastor and encourage him. The way I see it, every pastor could use a little encouragement. 0.8 miles away was a House of Prayer church, and beside that a Pentecostal church. We checked out each church, but the parking lots were empty and the doors were locked. I told Sandy that the next place to visit would be an abortion clinic. Sure enough, there was a Planned Parenthood in Asheville, 2 miles off of route 40 on our way home. We drove to the Planned Parenthood, and as we entered the parking lot a sign read “NO UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES ALLOWED. VEHICLES WILL BE TOWED AWAY AT OWNER’S EXPENSE.” I didn’t show it to Sandy. We parked and walked towards the front of the building. On the wall was a sign that said “No trespassing. Unauthorized persons will be prosecuted.” I had forgotten my wallet in the work truck, so I had no I.D. I wondered how that would work if we were arrested, but dismissed that thought.
Once inside the abortion clinic, we saw a few people sitting in the waiting room, and were greeted brightly at the reception desk by a woman with a name-tag whose name I will withhold, with another woman behind her.
“May I help you?” Asked Miss Receptionist with the big smile.
“Well, possibly,” I said. “It’s a little strange. This is my wife, Sandy (Sandy smiles broadly at Chloe) and we had something happen to us today that I think God wants to do something about it. We booked a concert at The Cove outside of Asheville and arrived for the concert, but found out that it is tomorrow night. So we drove all the way up here, and I thought there must be another reason for being here. So first I thought I was supposed to encourage a pastor, so we went to two churches, but there was no pastor there. Then I thought we should go to an abortion clinic, so that is why we are here. I just want to tell you that Jesus loves you.”
Miss Receptionist’s face had gone from bright and cheery, to slightly frozen, to stiff and formal. She did not become rude, she did not say anything wrong, but I could tell we were not going to get much further with her. Sandy asked her if we can talk to other people in the waiting room, and Miss Receptionist said “No,” in a firm voice. We knew that we were not welcome now, and our time was done there, so we said good-bye and walked out.
Sandy was driving, so we got in the car and she wanted to pray for them before driving out. I pointed out the No Trespassing signs and the NO UNAUTHORIZED vehicle signs, and said we should leave then pray.
We left from that abortion clinic, praying for Miss Receptionist. And then we prayed for our children, for our friends, and thanked God for His goodness to us. We spent the next hour or so talking about the last ten years of ministry, contemplating that the words “success” and “failure” are probably not good words to choose for evaluating ministry. We concluded that “faithful” and “fruitful” are probably more important tests to consider.
Think about it. Any one of those people in that waiting room could possibly have taken four hours out of their day for this appointment, changed their life forever, and ended up being held responsible for the death of a baby. We drove four hours (roundtrip) out of the way for a concert that we mistakenly thought was tonight, but at least our lives are still able to go on, and our children are still alive. It’s possible that my random choice of going to visit an abortion clinic was linked to the fact that Sandy bought our first Selah CD the night before we lost our stillborn child, Elizabeth Charis, on January 9, 2010. There is such a connection between life and hope, and death and suffering that comes to us when we think of Selah and their song “I Will Carry You.” God is amazing.
I still don’t believe in coincidence. Lord willing, we will make it to the concert tomorrow night. I pray that Miss Receptionist will hear from the Spirit of God tonight—that the Holy Spirit will draw her to the love of the Father through the gift of repentance. Jesus does love her.
In 41 years, I had never visited an abortion clinic. Never told someone inside an abortion clinic that Jesus loves them. It was time.
God can redeem even my dumb mistakes.
Rich
We walked into a “coincidence” today that reminded me to be on the lookout for God’s touch. Somewhere. Anywhere! Please God, speak! For me and Sandy, our 18 year anniversary back in June had not even had a night out to eat, so we had been looking to plan a getaway. The clock was ticking three months late, so two days ago I confirmed that a “Night at the Cove” at the Billy Graham Training Center in Asheville, NC, had a cancelation that would make us able to attend a dinner and a concert with the Christian music group Selah, with lodging available right there. Sandy was ecstatic, I was feeling rather smug about my husbandly care, and we arranged with three different families to help us with childcare for our six children. We hopped in the car, drove two hours, and made it there a few minutes early to check in.
The security guard at the gate could not find our name on his list. Not a big deal. I knew Brenda Abernathy’s name from reservations and said that she had helped us get the reservation for the Selah concert two days ago after someone had canceled. The guard’s face softened a bit. “Sir, that Selah concert is on the 15th. This is the 14th.”
My mouth went dry, my toenails curled, and I looked sideways at my wife. “Uh, I think I read on your website that it is on Wednesday night the 15th,” I said hopefully.
“I’m sorry, it is on the 15th, but the 15th is tomorrow night, Thursday evening.”
Oh, brother.
Sandy and I conversed briefly with this caring security guard who had just informed us that our plans were ruined. He advised us to go in to the welcome center, sit down and regroup, see if we should “punt” as he called it and come back, or maybe see if we should spend the night. He said that just twenty minutes earlier another person had come with plans to come to the Selah concert and left saddened that her dates were mixed up.
The next 60 minutes were not my finest hour. After speaking amongst ourselves and with the reservations department, we decided to put our best foot forward, get in the car and drive 2 hours back home, pick up all of our children from their respective homes, and try again tomorrow. Believe me, this decision was not made in a vacuum without exploring a number of other options. I even thought of some un-nameable options which I did not give voice to, which is just as well. It reminds me of the warning label on the Japanese-made electric kitchen knife that says tersely “Not to be used for the other use.”
The piece of news that cemented the decision to return home was that our reservation was non-refundable because of the late confirmation. I turned off the phone, threw it on the floor near the brake pedal, and drove off, stone-faced and grumpy. What a trip.
Three miles down the road, we stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts. The first Dunkin’ Donuts since New York City, actually. I told Sandy I need some good coffee. We had a brief interlude in the car while she asked me why I was angry, and why couldn’t I just let it go? I explained that if I stuff the emotion of anger it will come up later, and Sandy wondered if I could just express the emotions of joy and peace on the way home. That did make me smile a little, as I explained that I could not find any emotions of joy and peace in me at the moment, and how am I to express joy and peace when I am just plain mad? Let me be clear, this scheduling snafu was my fault; she was not to blame.
I was waiting for Sandy outside Dunkin’ when a thought came to me. “Rich, this is not a coincidence. There has got to be another reason you drove all the way up to Asheville, NC. What could it be?” The mountains were all around us, the sky was beautiful. This could not be a coincidence.
As I pondered that, I thought we should look for a church nearby to see if we could talk to a pastor and encourage him. The way I see it, every pastor could use a little encouragement. 0.8 miles away was a House of Prayer church, and beside that a Pentecostal church. We checked out each church, but the parking lots were empty and the doors were locked. I told Sandy that the next place to visit would be an abortion clinic. Sure enough, there was a Planned Parenthood in Asheville, 2 miles off of route 40 on our way home. We drove to the Planned Parenthood, and as we entered the parking lot a sign read “NO UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES ALLOWED. VEHICLES WILL BE TOWED AWAY AT OWNER’S EXPENSE.” I didn’t show it to Sandy. We parked and walked towards the front of the building. On the wall was a sign that said “No trespassing. Unauthorized persons will be prosecuted.” I had forgotten my wallet in the work truck, so I had no I.D. I wondered how that would work if we were arrested, but dismissed that thought.
Once inside the abortion clinic, we saw a few people sitting in the waiting room, and were greeted brightly at the reception desk by a woman with a name-tag whose name I will withhold, with another woman behind her.
“May I help you?” Asked Miss Receptionist with the big smile.
“Well, possibly,” I said. “It’s a little strange. This is my wife, Sandy (Sandy smiles broadly at Chloe) and we had something happen to us today that I think God wants to do something about it. We booked a concert at The Cove outside of Asheville and arrived for the concert, but found out that it is tomorrow night. So we drove all the way up here, and I thought there must be another reason for being here. So first I thought I was supposed to encourage a pastor, so we went to two churches, but there was no pastor there. Then I thought we should go to an abortion clinic, so that is why we are here. I just want to tell you that Jesus loves you.”
Miss Receptionist’s face had gone from bright and cheery, to slightly frozen, to stiff and formal. She did not become rude, she did not say anything wrong, but I could tell we were not going to get much further with her. Sandy asked her if we can talk to other people in the waiting room, and Miss Receptionist said “No,” in a firm voice. We knew that we were not welcome now, and our time was done there, so we said good-bye and walked out.
Sandy was driving, so we got in the car and she wanted to pray for them before driving out. I pointed out the No Trespassing signs and the NO UNAUTHORIZED vehicle signs, and said we should leave then pray.
We left from that abortion clinic, praying for Miss Receptionist. And then we prayed for our children, for our friends, and thanked God for His goodness to us. We spent the next hour or so talking about the last ten years of ministry, contemplating that the words “success” and “failure” are probably not good words to choose for evaluating ministry. We concluded that “faithful” and “fruitful” are probably more important tests to consider.
Think about it. Any one of those people in that waiting room could possibly have taken four hours out of their day for this appointment, changed their life forever, and ended up being held responsible for the death of a baby. We drove four hours (roundtrip) out of the way for a concert that we mistakenly thought was tonight, but at least our lives are still able to go on, and our children are still alive. It’s possible that my random choice of going to visit an abortion clinic was linked to the fact that Sandy bought our first Selah CD the night before we lost our stillborn child, Elizabeth Charis, on January 9, 2010. There is such a connection between life and hope, and death and suffering that comes to us when we think of Selah and their song “I Will Carry You.” God is amazing.
I still don’t believe in coincidence. Lord willing, we will make it to the concert tomorrow night. I pray that Miss Receptionist will hear from the Spirit of God tonight—that the Holy Spirit will draw her to the love of the Father through the gift of repentance. Jesus does love her.
In 41 years, I had never visited an abortion clinic. Never told someone inside an abortion clinic that Jesus loves them. It was time.
God can redeem even my dumb mistakes.
Rich