When the World Was Orange

I don't begin to keep up with this enough - apologies if there are any out there who think this is something regular to follow.

Over the past several weeks, I have been working to help my mother readjust to a new life.  She, at least for the moment, has lost the ability to walk, and will no longer be living on her own.  While cleaning out her house a couple of weeks ago, I found the family pictures: an old boot box full of 35mm slides.  

I've been after Mom to get these for years, because film deteriorates, and I wanted to get them scanned an archived - not only for the sake of preserving them, but also to get comments on who might be in some of the older ones.  There are some pictures there that date back prior to WWII, and I think only my grandmother may be able to speak about some of them.

I've tried to make the boys part of the scanning process too.  It's a long and boring process, so we look at and talk about some of the family pictures as we go along.  But all that being said, I was caught off guard by a question from my youngest boy the other day - 

"Dad, were you alive when the world was orange?"

I guess faded photos might give that impression, huh?

Teaching about War

My youngest son, 6 years, has developed a fascination with war and terrorism.  We are constantly bombarded with questions about why we can't kill the terrorists this way, and why don't we just drop a bomb on the terrorist's mountain, or use all of our tanks, or send in the Navy Seals.  You get the idea. 

So what to do?  Tonight, I sat him down after a particularly callous comment about war and showed him pictures of its victims.  We looked at soldiers and children, we looked at Hiroshima before and after.  And I asked him if he still thought it better that people kill each other rather than U.S. Soldiers (as opposed to learning to hate death of any kind).  

At prayer time, I asked him to pray for the Iraqi people and for the terrorists.

I wonder if I did right - or is he too young and I'm just showing him stuff that will make him more callous?

What to do?  God, give us the grace and wisdom.

Small Blessings

The family is on vacation without me, and this is the first time in years that I have been so long without them. It is a time to focus on myself, my goals, and, most importantly, to strengthen and refocus on my relationship with God.

We get so caught up in day to day goings on that it is easy to forget why we are here or the important things in life. The job is the means to taking care of that with which we are charged, yet when the hours at work increase and the tasks require more of your attention, it can so easily become the focus. I think I have been blessed so far that I have not completely lost sight of the things that are most important to me. I have been able to give up things that mean something to me, such as triathlon, for the sake of doing things for the boys and the family, like Cub Scouts.

So, while the family is away, and I have a week off of work as well, this is a time to draw nearer to God. There are temptations to fight, of course. My first night alone, I went to the grocery store and bought entirely too much of the wrong kinds of foods. But I was able to repent, and have done a fair, if not perfect job, of eating properly and not going off the deep end. And I haven't had a drop of alcohol except for a beer and glass of wine served to me on the fourth.

But tonight, something really special happened, and it just reminds me of how much God loves us, individually and specially. I went to church, as normal, and tonight I was to serve as a greeter. There was an email to meet early because brochures needed to be stuffed with an additional flyer, but when I got there early, that had already been done. So, we greeters sat and talked for a few minutes, and then were introduced to a new greeter. It turns out that this man is a descendant of a famous historical person, and he didn't mention a word of it while we were talking - I only found out as we were working together opening doors for people.

We didn't talk at all about his famous ancestor, but instead just discussed life and our various circumstances and appearance. It's just that only God would know that it would thrill me so much to meet this guy, to find out that there were descendants of this person. How cool is that?

I went to church, and the message was good, don't get me wrong. But it felt like I got there and God took me into his kitchen and gave me a special ice-cream cone! Truly, He loves us each individually and gives us great things.

Thank you Lord - I love you so much.

Boyz in the Yard

One of the most rewarding facets of my life stems from the cultural differences in our relationship with my wife, who was born in Haiti and moved to Brooklyn when she was 8 years old. When you mix a white, suburban Texan with a hip, sexy, black New Yorker who has more style in her smallest eyelash than you can claim in a lifetime, you never lack for humour. One interesting result of this comes from the extra spin that my children put on life.

Recently, I was working in my backyard finishing a landscaping project when my two boys (8 & 5 years old) got into a fight. In order to resolve the dispute I decided that I could put them to work by having them clean up branches and extra bricks in the yard - there wasn't that much, maybe 30 minutes worth for a slow-moving child.

After they had been working for about 15 minutes, the grumbling started. Most of their work had been done, and they were starting to stack the remaining bricks (about 20) into a small pile on
the side of the house. The following dialogue ensued:

Boy 1: Dad, this is tooorrrture. When are we going to be done?
Me: When I say you are done.
Boy 1: But Dad, it's hot out here. You're making us work too hard.
Me: I'll tell you when you are finished, and I don't want any more arguing!
(Pause for a minute while they work)
Boy 1 to Boy 2: Daddy's torturing us.
Boy 2: Yeah, he's treating us like slaves.

(pause)

Boy 1: It's because we're black.

(pause)

Boy 2 to Boy 1: I think Daddy married Mommy so he could have little slaves.
Boy 1: YEAH!!! DADDY, DID YOU MARRY MOMMY SO YOU COULD HAVE
LITTLE SLAVES????!!!

I was doubled over laughing, behind the fence where they couldn't see me. When I went inside and told my wife, she had the same reaction. This story has been told and retold so many times since then, and will now be one of our most treasured memories.

At this point in time, the boys have no clue that this is being passed around - I even wonder if they remember the conversation.

Developing Young Texans

Hi. This is my first blog entry as a Dad, and it will probably go hand in hand with my blog as a professional software developer (roundrockdev@blogspot.com). The point is that life is a tricky balance between fulfilling our highest calling as parents and husbands while maintaining that critical balance with work-life and being true to ourselves.

Our highest calling comes from God, and it is through serving Him that we are most successful when following our other paths. I know that there are many who don't share this view, and its not my point to prosleytize. Just know that any success I experience I attribute to God, and my failures usually come from my failure to stay on this path.

That is not to say that we don't encounter resistance and trouble along our paths - of course we do. But success or failure is not judged by the path you take, it's judged on whether or not you reach your destination. And since the destination of every path that I want to take ends with God, everything I do that brings me or someone I love closer to Him I deem as success.

I hope you enjoy following along - my next post is to relate a hilarious story about my boys from about six weeks ago.