That's My Boy!...

This is what Sabbath is about! And this exactly what this blog is about. This is one of those rare, hard to capture moments. No posing, no posturing, no coaxing. Just real, raw humanity at its best. Trina, my wife, Ethan's mommy, and now photographer extraordinaire took this picture at random and cpatured one of my favorite Ethanisms, with Oreo gotee to add. It will forever be captured now as the site's new logo, and it will soon be making me millions! Yes, that's right. No way I'm not cashing in on this one. Ethan has inspired me once again to capitalize on life's little moments of grace.

I will soon be working on a full line of greeting cards using this image. We already experimented this week for Grandma's birthday. The outside of the card read: "Might I be obtuse and ask a lady such as yourself exactly how old you are, today?" Then open card to see this image staring at you with the text: "WHOA! Oreos and firetrucks, Grandma! I think I just pooped my pants!" Needless to say Grandma and I both rolled around laughing hysterically for long periods of time. And every time I see this picutre I chuckle. It is by far my most favorite image of all time.

Other cards coming to a greeting card supplier near you will be assorted birthday greetings such as: cover with this image, open to read "Oh. I just saw your underwear" (It might be time to finally stop wearing low riders and high risers. Glad you are as wise as you are old.) Happy Birthday!

That's my boy!

Choo-Choos and Church Bells

As I stare out my window this morning to see the beautiful rays of sun casting warmth and welcome to the soul upon the stone arch pillars of our church edifice, I can't keep from revelling over this thought in my heart: "Holy Crap! What a week or so it has been! I need some sacred space for the love of Pete!" What has happened to make my heart so alive?
1. The bathroom I remodeled is still not finished and is need of some repair already.
2. I became a Godfather, and a being a single Godparent in today's world is not easy. It has been quite an adjustment.
3. Lent started and there are still membership classes to get planned for the array of folks wishing to join us in this most festive season.
4. It snowed more, but now is beginning to thaw and the extreme change in weather has started to fill my sinuses with gunk that will certainly drain into my chest causing agony for days to come.
5. Meetings until 8:00 plus making for 12 plus hour days the last two weeks.
5 1/2. And Jimmy bought ANOTHER - yes ANOTHER Cadillac. It's Lent, friend! Give it up!

Boy do I need to be in sacred space today. And I guess I shouldn't ponder the beauty too long because I am sure to fall asleep. I do give thanks though for the time to stop, because inthe midst of all the chaos, the day started the same today. Ethan decided to wrestle and have a fit over taking his medication this morning which involves him sitting patiently on my lap and sucking medicinal steam from a tube for twenty minutes. Though a complete joy I am sure for a 2-year-old, he is usually quite patient and available to the task. But not today...Noooo! Then the running in circles and demanding he wash his hands for 15 minutes in the new bathroom sink. It is his new rite of passage - being able to carry a stool and independently turn on and shut off the flow of water, but we still have to work with the shutting off part. By the time the coat was wrestled on, the morning dance session to the Sesame Street closing theme was finished and the fit was reconciled at the turning off of the tellie, we were on our way. Nothing more please a this point. But low and behold, he decideds to dawdle and take his sweet time walking to the car. I filled the void with getting some things ready, and then waited. The seconds seemed an eternity until the distant sound of a train beckoned him to shout, "Whoa! Choo-choo! Wooooo-wooooo!" Yes choo-choo, let's go play with our friends now. I turned by back hoping he would conitnue the journey with me. Of course he did not. But then I turned to see him dancing again. To what I did not know until a moment that faint church bells tolling the new day and grace of God's presence was apparent. Ethan danced and I cared no more of how long it might take us. Dancing in God's grace is what I intend to do today. I am so glad I took this moment to remember that of all the things that I have remebered this morning.
You hear the church bells? Yeah, chooch bizz. You hear Grace? Yeah, Grace.

The Fairy Godfather...

I get to dress in drag again! Oops. I guess I shouldn't say that with such great enthusiasm. It's really not as much a fetish at all as it is a scene from my seminary days. I was in a group of cross-dressing lipsyners and dancers known as "The King James Version." It was 1.) a spoof on the Christian Coalition's announcement that they no longer accepted the KJV as the only irrenat and holy version of scripture since it had been proven in some form that King James was bisexual in orientation, (2.) a celebration of life and the joy of inviting of all of God's people to Christ's table for all that shall be. But, boy did I look good. If I find the pics, I will be glad to post.
However, the reason for this cross-dressing event is for an even greater honor. My God child was born yesterday, and I am the single Godparent to Daniel Robert 'McStew.' Actually I think it is just now official since there is a small conglomerate of us who have simply covenanted to be the holy reminders of God's persence and accountability in each other's lives and the lives of our children. We are collectively, along with our own families, the village that has taken the task of nurturing these chidlren together. And until the offical word, I was simply the village idiot. I like being the village idiot, however, I will likely take this role much more serously.
But what do you get for Godchildren? How do you discipline them? How do you feed them and clothe them and bathe them?
...What? Oh, this just in. A word my conscience tells me that stuff is not neccesary. You just have to flash pictures along with pictures of your own chidlren and claim them before all the world. I think I can do that. But, before I go, does anyone know where I can get the boy some Colts gear. It's momentous since they won the big game while mom and dad were pining for the Bears from their hospital room. At least all are well and ready to go back home with big sis. Can't wait to see you, Danny Bob! Love, your fairy Godfather!

toe-chu mi gokko sish to you, too

Tonight I took time to do something a little different and I am so glad I did. Since Ethan is in a new place, and there was still a bit of commotion at bed time, I laid down on the floor next to him and we shared and I learned from my 21-month-old son. Ethan has always been able to confidently look me eye to eye and boldly proclaim prophetic and profound statements like, "bogo eetch-o-beyoo." And when he says things like this, his posture and expression show that he means what he says.

Tonight was not much different. As we lay in the semi-dark room he and I talked about important father-son stuff. We talked about the Chicago White Sox pitching rotation for next season, and he was as concerned as I was about the departure of Brandon McCarthy. He said, "Bligga-pleetch-okko gox." I agreed. In fact I was quick to inform him that I really hadn't looked a the situation from that perspective. I was worried about the point spread I had given my friend Mark for tomorrow's Super Bowl. I picked Indianapolis by 11. Ethan was quick to answer with a clear, "nooo," when I asked him if the point spread was too much. Then he said some off color things about Rex Grossman - "Toggachech shom-ee kotewas," I think was the exact quote. We bantered some more about girls, the Illini basketball season, his mom and how lovely she is, and a few other things. He squirmed a little bit more, and finally took my hand in his and said, "sish-a-bog oof," took a couple of tugs on his pacifier and fell asleep.

That whole time I was not really worried about the Sox, the Illini, the Colts, or the girl troubles he is having at daycare. I was most worried about twenty years from now. I want to make sure we can still sit together in some intimate father-son way and talk about those same things the way we did tonight. Tonight he was in a place where he needed 'daddy,' and when he needs daddy, he gets daddy. Especially now, at his young, vulnerable, and innocent age. I want him to know, though, that twenty years from now and beyond, he can still know that when he needs dad, he will get dad. And no, I didn't understand a single word he said in his own little language this evening, I heard him loud and clear. I heard a message that all the world might want to hear. It is a message that calls us to nurture and give of ourselves so that our children can know that they are loved. As my wife and wonderful partner in this task of parenting say, "fill them with love and they will overflow with love." And maybe if we are lucky maybe they will only know how to love each other one day.

Being daddy tonight, gave me hope for that day. With every babbling sentence, smile, laugh, and pick of the nose (mine and his), I heard the message - toe-chu mi gokko sish. Translated, thank you, I love you, too.

Far Cry From The Rest of Us..

Far - go is certainly a far cry from being isolated from the rest of civilization. I realized on our recent North Dakota excursion when I ran into a former and re-discerning Lutheran pastor. Imagine that - being in North Dakota and running into a Lutheran pastor. That's like walking into a convent and spotting a nun. Anyhow, it was such a pleasure to have broken bread (beer is bread, right?) with him and to have gotten acquainted with him. His experiences of Fargo were truly enriching and his sharing truly empowering and renewing. Fargo, is in fact, filled with great culture and people of tremendous intellect and concern for God's creation and community. And they say you can only get that stuff out East.

Yes, the drive is a Far-go into the heart of nowhere, but certainly where two or three of those willing to imbibe in the spirit are present truly there is God among them also. And if the inhabitants of nowhere can care for life and all that is God's as much as those I met the other evening and communed with, then nowhere is not a bad place to head. In fact, I think I may just go ahead and do as the old saying insists - be in a hurry to get to nowhere. Thank you, nowhere man ... I mean, Pastor.

You Can Dance If You Want To...

I couldn't believe Toby's band didn't play the song "Safety Dance." Well, I guess, for one they are not that kind of band, and two that song is stupid. I write to you from the havens of Minneapolis, Minnesota - Eden Prairie to be exact. As we stop for a short visit and to witness the baptism of our niece/Trina's goddaughter, I must regress upon notes and wonderful memories in order to bring you all up to date.

Toby is Trina's friend from college and a music professor at Minnesota State University, husband to one of Trina's closest friends from college (Patty), a friend of mine, a wonderful musician and artist, and one kick-ass bass player and band leader. Besides jazz ensembles he leads a "horn band" sort of like the P-Funk All Stars, Chicago, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Tower of Power, etc. In fact they cover a lot of these great bands and have a few originals - all 100 of them. Okay, maybe not 100, but it sure looks that way once you get a five-piece band plus the whole brass and wind sections of the Fargo Symphony Orchestra on a 9' by 15' platform suspended on a balcony over a bar crowd. While in Fargo we got a chance to go out and see Toby's band, "Post Traumatic Funk Syndrome," perform. What a blessing. And what a calling that Toby and these musicians have responded to faithfully. And all the while humbly, as they all dropped their titles, their Ph.D.s, their acheivements to help us enjoy. Because of their faithfulness to respond to their call and to rigorously practice their trade in all that is necessary to spread the good news, we were able to meet new friends, dance, and have a good time even though it was a balmy 22 below zero outside with a slight wind chill.

I remember telling Toby before we left, as he and I scanned the bar together, "Well, they are all drunk and dancing, so your work here is done, huh." We laughed, And Trina and I then gathered ourselves along with Patty, bundled up, and headed to collect the babysitter and remunerate her with proper penance. Because Patty had to attend to a tireless infant, Trina and I had the task of returning said babysitter back to her abode with no clue where we were going in this city we had only spent about 20 hours awake. We tried to help the teenage girl in the backseat relax with conversation about her future and her likings, et. al. She was an enjoyable and mature young lady. It was fun, we did get her home safely, and ourselves back to our temporary home in the Tundra. And all that with a great deal of peace and faithfulness that all was well.

Why? Because we had heard the good news that we are called to dance. Toby and his band had done there job well that evening. they reminded us that we are to dance, and to help others dance as well. Our shared vocation is to bring humanity hope by making the music that makes people dance. In dancing there is many things, but most of all peace; and in peace there is hope that all can yet be reconciled for a better world. In making music in whatever way we do so, it is not our job to worry about who shows up, but rather to sing, "You can dance if you want to. You can leave your cares behind." Those yearning for the peace that surpasses all understanding will respond. It may take them a few drinks, but they will respond. Thanks, Toby, for inviting the world to dance, good and faithful servant.