September 18 – “Even the house?”

 

 

I did a wedding last night.  It took place at the gazebo in front of the San Luis hotel.  It was one of those where the couple was already married, but they wanted to do the whole public ceremony in front of God and everybody.  I always wonder what the people are thinking in those situations.  Not just the bride and groom, but their families and friends as well.  I got a brief glimpse into the heart of the bride's Dad.  He was kind of feeling like the odd man out at the rehearsal.  He was going to walk his daughter down the aisle, but he had obviously not been included in many of the preparations.  Then last night at the wedding itself he showed up in a full tux with tails.  The groom was just wearing an untucked shirt and slacks, so that made him really stand out.  He and I had a few minutes to talk before the ceremony began, and I told him he looked really sharp.  His reply was, "I have waited all my life to walk her down the aisle like this.  I don't even care what they are wearing.  I'm fulfilling a dream here."  Good for you, Dad.

 

The groom was a helicopter pilot who proved himself to be a big jokester at the rehearsal.  Everything was funny to him.  He even had most of the wedding party lined up to roll down the hill at the hotel before the wedding coordinator realized what was up and quickly put a stop to that idea.  At the end of the hill was a sheer drop of about ten feet to the lower level of the parking garage.  He was quite disappointed.  At the ceremony I was ready for anything from him.

 

Sure enough, during the vows he started laughing.  At first I thought he was treating the whole thing like a joke, but then I realized that he was laughing to cover up the fact that he was actually incredibly choked up.  He was crying like a baby.   The bride even reached over and gently dabbed his eyes with as Kleenex.  He finally gathered himself enough to make it through.  The big-hearted softie.  The bride had this to say about him, "Why would I not want to marry my best friend?" 

 

By the time we reached the ring part of the ceremony the goofy big guy was back.  The last phrase of the ring vows says, "and all that I have, I share with you."  He looked into his bride's eyes, started to say it, then stopped.  He turned to me and said, "Even the house?"  The whole place cracked up, bride included.  He finally got it out, and the rest of the service went by without a hitch.  I'm sure that was one wild and crazy reception. 

 

Proverbs 26:4 says, "Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you will be like him yourself."

 

Father, be with that couple from last night.  Draw them to yourself so they will understand what really matters.  Amen.

September 17 – “On shopping for girl’s clothes”

 

 

Chris went shopping at the mall yesterday.  I didn't join her.  Now sometimes I do go with her on those jaunts.  It's nice because on the way home we usually stop somewhere for a nice lunch together, just the two of us.  Not so much that it's romantic or anything like that.  It's just that we rarely get to do much when it's just the two of us.  But this time she had a plan in mind. 

 

She has been looking on the computer website of the only place she can find clothes that she likes and that fit her right, so I knew something like this was coming for quite some time.  She was determined to make the long trip into Texas to take advantage of a particular sale they were having.  I wasn't sure how long that would take.  And I didn't have anything in particular that I needed to accomplish on the North side of the causeway.  So I decided to stay at home.  That meant I would have to mow the grass and trim the tree in the absent neighbor's yard (the one the bank owns).  Not to mention finishing up preparations for Sunday's service.  But I decided to tough it out.

 

While she was gone Nathan gave her a call.  She informed him that she was not at home.  Surprised, he asked where she was.  I guess the fact that he was surprised shows we don't get out much.  He was also kind of surprised to find that I wasn't with her.  That's when she explained my "usual demeanor" when I accompany her on shopping trips, although I can't understand where it comes from.  She said when I go with her to a clothing store, all I do is "stand around looking bored, and when she asks what I think about a particular item I say I don't have an opinion."  Ouch.  She actually noticed. 

 

I confess.  Most of the time I really don't have an opinion one way or the other.  I'm not good at all with colors, and styles have very little meaning to me, either, unless they are extreme.  And Chris wouldn't have anything to do with extremes, anyway.  For years I have done my best to be more interested in the person than in what he is wearing.  And with Chris in particular, it doesn't matter what she wears.  I care about her.  On the other hand, I have learned over the years that in situations like those she wants me to say something.  She wants me to have an opinion about it for her sake.  Tough thing for a guy to learn.  Even tougher to actually do.  It means you have to pay very close attention to her likes and dislikes.  You have to remember the things she has appreciated over the years.  You have to care enough to crawl into her shoes and seek out what would be the best for her.  You have to actually love her.  That's a lot of work.  And I have a long way to go in this particular arena, obviously.  But I am trying.

 

So … Nathan's response?  Something along the lines of, "Wow.  Dad's more like me than I thought."  That's my boy.

 

Proverbs 26:2 says, "Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow, an undeserved curse does not come to rest."

 

Father, help me … and Nathan … to be sensitive to our wives and what they need.  Even when it's a lot of work.  Amen.

September 16 – “The dream star”

 

 

I had one of those very vivid dreams last night.  The kind where it feels so real you think you are actually there.  Thankfully I was just an observer in this particular one. 

 

I don't know where the dream took place, but it was about a football game.  Guess it was matching up with the recent beginning of the season.  Hey.  I live near Texas, and football is the king of Texas, isn't it?  At least it gets the most space in the newspaper now.  It's getting harder and harder to find the Astros news now that football season has started.    And I have to keep up with the Astros.  They are setting new records every day.  The latest was when they lost more games than they ever have in franchise history.  One for the books, to be sure. 

 

So the dream happened on a football field.  Now it wasn't a sanctioned event, with officials and pads and helmets.  It was apparently a bunch of guys just gathered together and having a good time.  And there were a bunch of them.  Looked like a full eleven men on each side.  And there was a huge crowd as well. 

 

I would have expected it to be a rousing game of two-below, which is what we usually play at our annual family and friends Turkey Bowl game the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  You know, the defense has to touch the guy with the ball with two hands somewhere below the belt for him to be down.  It's the poor man's version (or little boys in the street version) of flag football, I guess.  But no.  This game was full blown tackle.  And it was definitely not little boys.  These were grown men. 

 

Play after play the men rammed into each other and caught passes and dodged tackles.  It was quite entertaining. One guy in particular was doing very well.  He was a pretty big guy.  And he had his long hair pulled back into one of those athletic –looking pony tails I have seen on some NFL guys and quite a few ladies soccer teams.  He also was wearing glasses.  He made tackle after tackle on defense, and he was always the lead blocker on offense, easily throwing people aside so the runner could get through.  If I had to pick an MVP up to that point, he would definitely have been it. 

 

And then, as often happens in dreams, I somehow realized that the score was tied and time was running out.  There was time for one more play.  And to everyone's surprise, the pony-tailed guy had the ball.  He ran for the end zone, amazing us all with his speed and agility, avoiding tackle after tackle, smashing faces with a rock-hard stiff arm, a steely determined look in his eye.

 

That's when I realized I knew that guy.  The cinematographer of my dream surged in for a close-up of that determination and I saw, and was stunned.  This was a guy I knew from back in Denver.  He was never a very athletic guy back then.  I guess he didn't mind watching football, especially the Broncos, but I never expected to see him on the field, much less starring in the game.  And the hair really threw me.  Maybe that was a nod to his later-in-life career as a radio disc jockey.  And today he is a single Dad of a precious adopted son. 

 

Following our commitment to pray for any person we dream about, I began when I woke up and will continue throughout the day today to pray for my friend Ryan Dennis.  Hope you have a great one today, Ryan.

 

Proverbs 25:28 says "Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control."

 

Father, walk with Ryan today in all he does.  And watch over that little guy who calls him Daddy.  Amen.

September 15 – “What’s a typewriter?”

 

 

Speaking of time, I spent a few hours yesterday organizing some files from way back in the 80's.  That was when I was a minister of education.  One of the things I did every week was prepare a suggested lesson plan for all the adult Sunday School teachers.  It included a word study and copies of related resource articles as well as a sample actual lesson plan.  Then each Wednesday I would teach the teachers using the plan.  They could then use or adjust or completely discard the plan for their class on Sunday.  I still have old hard copies of several years of those lesson plans.  I had one complete set that taught through the Book of Luke, but I lost that stack back in Hurricane Ike.  So yesterday I sorted and sifted through the rest to see what I had that might make for a good Pastor's Class type study for Sunday mornings before worship at Seaside.  There seemed to be some good possibilities. 

 

I was struck by the thought, though, that I sure have become a lot more dependent on technology than I was back then.  A lot of the studies are written by hand.  What a horrifying thought.  Some were done on an old computer I had that would only work with one of those old printers that had a carriage arm that moved back and forth across the page like a typewriter gone amok.  Oh, what's a typewriter? 

 

It's a contraption that we used to use where the keyboard function and print function were synched to occur simultaneously with each other.  It eliminated the need for a screen, because each letter of the text was instantly transferred to the paper for the hard copy.  Sounds like quite an advance in technology when put that way.  The only problem was that … each letter of the text was instantly transferred to the paper for the hard copy.  There was no opportunity to see which key you struck before it printed on the page.  If you made a mistake you had to either start over again or use a brilliant creation called whiteout.  It was like white paint that you could use to cover up the error and strike another key letter right over the top of it.  Amazing stuff.  Another option was a strip of tape coated on one side with some kind of white substance that transferred to the page.  All you had to do was line up the offending letter, place the tape next to the page, strike the key again, and watch it disappear.  Ah, nostalgia.

 

Proverbs 25:27 says, "It is not good to eat too much honey, nor is it honorable to seek one's own honor."

 

Father, give me some of your wisdom to choose what study to do and when to begin it.  Amen.

September 14 – “I want the big ones”

 

 

Well, I must stand corrected on a few points of my post yesterday.  Chris read it and filled me in on some details that I didn't get exactly right.  It seems that the chairs being lined up by Cailyn and Boy in their playtime were not the little rocking chairs like I thought.  They were the full sized dining room table chairs.  Cailyn pushed them behind the couch and arranged them like a train.  She told Chris to sit down so they could go to WalMart, but Chris inadvertently tried to sit in the chair already occupied by Boy.  My mistake.  Oh, and come to find out, Nathan did have an imaginary friend after all.  It's just that his name was so complicated and random that Chris couldn't even remember it.  I have a hard enough time trying to remember people's names that I have known for years.  Cailyn is due to come over again today.  Wonder if Boy will come with her.  Or if he has actually been here all along … hiding … just waiting for an opportunity to creep into the life of yet another Vaughan child.  Sounds like a fun life, Boy.

 

Speaking of Cailyn, she has learned one significant lesson in her young two and a half years of life.  Money speaks.  She came into the office where I was working and asked for some "bunny."  At least that's what I heard.  Fortunately her translator, Chris, was with her.  She saw the look of consternation on my face and quickly told me that meant "money."  How cute.  Of course I gave Cailyn two pennies from my stack of change.  I read somewhere that when kids are little like that, it is best to give them things in the same number as their age.  Like invite two kids to a two-year-old's birthday party (which I have never seen done, by the way.  How can the kid get all those cool presents if only two friends get invited?).  Sure enough she was happy with the number of items.  But she wasn't completely satisfied with the pennies.  So she looked up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes and said, "I want the big ones, DadDad."  She wanted one of the big ones.  So I gave her a nickel.  Now she had three items, and one of them was obvious bigger.  Nice.  She put it in her purse and ran over to tell Chris all about it.  A few minutes later she picked up one of the papers from my desk.  I stood up and asked her to give it back to me.  She dropped it on the floor.  I asked her to pick it up and hand it to me.  She walked away.  I told her "If that's the way it's going to be, then I want my money back."  Immediately she picked it up and brought it over to me.  Wonder what it's going to be like when she discovers the "big money" made of paper.  Or worse … that amazing invention called the credit card.  Are you ready for that, Nathan and April?

 

Proverbs 25:26 says, "Like a muddied spring or a polluted well is a righteous man who gives way to the wicked."

 

Father, guide our children as they guide their children.  Amen

September 13 – “Boy”

 

 

When our three boys were young we encouraged them to be creative in their schoolwork and especially in their play.  Little did we know that simple bit of encouragement would result in a most unusual manifestation – an imaginary friend.

 

Now, I don't suppose having an imaginary friend is all that unusual in and of itself.  I don't remember having one myself, though I did engage in lots of imaginary play (Still do, in fact).  And it's not that we forced them to watch weird movies like Drop Dead Fred, which lauded the concept of the imaginary friend.  In fact we never mentioned the idea at all.  But still the elusive imaginary youngster managed to find his way into our house.

 

Kel met him first.  I don't know how old Kel was at the time, but it was around two or three.  And I'm not sure if we would have ever known about the existence of his special buddy if he hadn't been a bit overly mischievous one day.  Of course he got caught - the ever-present "back eyes" of the all-seeing Mom catches just about everything a three-year-old can come up with.  And when Chris called his hand, Kel had the perfect answer, "I didn't do it."  Of course not.  So Chris responded, "If it wasn't you, then who was it?"  See, at the time Kel was our only child.  There was no one else.  Her logic was impeccable.  But Kel replied with that perfect childlike innocence, "It was Boy.  He did it."  Now at first Chris continued in her scolding mold, "I know it was a boy.  You are the boy and you did it.  Now …"  But Kel only looked confused.  "No Mommy.  It was Boy.  He did it, not me."  Finally it began to dawn on us that our only-child was actually blaming the situation on someone else entirely.  Once we understood that, we began to incorporate Boy into the life of the family.  When Kel was punished, Boy had to be punished with him, because invariably he was involved as well.  We had some fun with the whole thing, but as happens, Kel eventually outgrew his invisible playmate and moved on to greater things, like sports and baseball cards and school.  We kind of grieved that Boy no longer lived with us.  Our little one was growing up.  And soon we forgot all about him.

 

And then Josh was born.  And when he reached the age of two or three, an interesting thing happened.  Suddenly, from out of nowhere, we began to hear Josh carrying on conversations with … Boy.  We hadn't even thought about the imaginary guy in years, and as far as we know Kel never brought him up either.  Nevertheless, there he was, playing with Josh and becoming the instigator of all sorts of mischief and mayhem around the house.  It took a while for the reality of the whole thing to sink in.  This time we were wiser and oh so much more experienced as parents.  We tried a few tricks we had up our sleeve to replace Boy with other things.  One idea that we just knew would work involved getting Josh a doll.  But not just any doll would do.  It had to be special enough to rival the affections of Boy.  So we gave him My Buddy.  And he loved it.  And he … introduced My Buddy to Boy.  And the three of them became almost inseparable.  Out of ideas, we reverted back to our original practice and welcomed the invisible creature back to our family.  Once again he took the blame for most of the pandemonium around the house.  Kel even saw his opportunity and did his best to place the blame for his actions on good ol' Boy.  He couldn't see him anymore, and he didn't join in any of the play with him.  After all, that was a kid's thing and he was all grown up.  I'm not sure he even remembered his own Boy experiences.  But he knew a good thing when he saw it. Anything to take the heat off his own back.  Didn't work, though.  Chris just sent all three of them to their rooms.  And sadly, after a few years, Boy once again faded into the realm of memories, perhaps joining My Buddy in his perch in the closet.

 

And then Nathan was born.  Honestly, we had once again forgotten about Boy's existence.  And as Nathan grew … Boy never came over.  I guess it was probably because Nathan was too busy doing wild and crazy things on his own to worry about someone else taking the blame.  When he got caught he was proud to take ownership of his accomplishments.  So the memory of Boy faded even more, brought out only occasionally to be rolled over a time or two for a brief chuckle, and then filed away again in our vast storehouse of fond remembrances.

 

Ah, enough reminiscing.  Back to the present.  Cailyn was here yesterday, and at one point she lined up the three child-sized rocking chairs and announced that one was for her, one was for Nani, and one was for … are you ready for this?  Boy.  Wait a minute.  Boy hasn't been around for literally years – decades.  Could this be the same one?  Chris waited for more details, but the moment had passed.  Cailyn moved on to another area of interest.  But Chris hurried in to the office to tell me what she had heard.  I have heard of things skipping a generation.  Maybe … Boy … is … back.

 

Proverbs 25:25 says, "Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land."

 

Father, thank you for the good news about Bo and Nancy's house being spared from the wildfires.  Please watch over the others who are still wondering as well as those who have already lost everything.  Amen.

September 12 – “Good morning … I think”

 

 

I really like mornings.  I even mentioned that in the teaching yesterday at church.  I love the verse that talks about joy coming in the morning.  I cling to the truth that when I am tired and depressed in the evening, if I can just make it through to bedtime, then things will look brighter in the morning.  I even enjoy being around non-morning type people in the mornings.  They don't particularly enjoy being around me, though.  Speaking of non-morning people, Chris just walked in.  I told her my usual cheery "Good morning."  She gave me a quick kiss and replied, "Good morning … I think."  I love that girl.  Even in the morning.

 

I woke up with a song in my head that wouldn't go away.  I like that feeling on most days.  Especially if the song is something about praising Jesus.  I don't mind it if it's an oldie but goodie from way back in the day.  You know, something by the Beach Boys, or the Beatles, or one of the balladeers from back then.  I do get particularly annoyed when it is any shape, form or fashion of an advertising ditty.  Those take forever to sever.  But the song this morning was none of those.  Today the song that I sang in my head while brushing my teeth (that's when I realized that I was singing it) was … Happy Birthday to You.  Seriously.  It's not my birthday.  The closest family member is Christi, but she's not until later in the month.  I haven't been on FaceBook yet, so I don't know if any of my friends there are celebrating.  But nevertheless, the song remains.  Playing over and over again.  Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday, dear … who?

 

Proverbs 25:24 says, "Better to live on a corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife."

 

Father, thank you for creating me, for giving me a birthday in the first place.  And thanks for the non-quarrelsome, non-morning wife you gave me.  Amen.