June 7 – “Something special”

 

 

So what did we do for our anniversary?  That was apparently the question of the day yesterday.  We did hear it a time or two.  It was not that hugely different of a day, actually.  In the morning after we got Mom to Libbie's Place Chris immediately went to work making two dresses for Cailyn.  One has M&M's figures on it and the other has Tinkerbell flying around on it.  Very cute.  While she did that I finished up the first draft of Sunday's teaching.  Still barreling through the Book of Esther.  We went out for lunch to Shrimp and Stuff.  That was our something special for me.  It was great as usual, except we had to share our experience with the hundreds of tourists who have discovered it now.  Then we took the self-guided tour around town of all the tree sculptures that were made with a chain saw after Hurricane Ike killed all the trees in Galveston.  Some  were very ornate.  Some were quite simple.  Some were, well, kind of ugly.  This was our something special for Chris.  And finally, we stopped on the way home at WalMart.  I told you it was not all that different from a regular day.  We wanted to buy a new rug for the nursery at church.  We had to throw away the old one.  It was pretty much beyond the realm of salvation by shampoo.  But that was our something special for someone else.  Great way to spend an anniversary.  Can't say we have made it a point to follow that plan every year – do something special for each of us and then do something together that makes the day special for someone else – but it sure was a satisfying way to spend the day.

 

Mom's memory is really getting worse.  Yesterday she told us that she wanted to go "across the street" (to the house she used to live in), because she had to talk to her mother.  Chris told her that her mother wasn't over there anymore.  A confused look came over her face, and Mom replied, "But I was just talking to her about something."  Then she asked, "Where is she, then?"  Chris responded by asking where she was when she talked to her.  She suggested checking her room since we have moved everything from there over here.  Great answer.  Mom shuffled back into her room and moved on with the day.  I remember how much grief Dad went through when, in his Alzheimer's confusion, he asked about his mother, and Mom told him that his mother was dead.  We'll have to watch her pretty close now if she thinks she still lives across the street.  Although it might be a great way to get to know our neighbors.

 

2 John 6 says, "And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is that you walk in love."

 

Father, walk gently with Mom as she rediscovers past events.  Let her rediscover more happy ones than sad ones.  Amen.

June 6 – “Happy Anniversary to Us”

 

 

There it is.  Thirty-seven years ago Chris and I were down in Bay City, Texas, taking advantage of the major makeover the little Baptist church had undergone so they could proudly host the big-city wedding that was coming to town.  My family trucked in from Galveston.  Everybody we knew as a couple had to drive from Houston, where we were in school and where I was a youth pastor.  That meant several of the kids from the church made the journey as well.  Always a scary thought to have the youth group at your wedding.  A few of them ended up joining us in the car as we tried to drive away from the reception.  Wonder where they got such an idea?  I don't remember ever telling them about the time I did that to a college friend.  Hid in the front seat of his taxi, I did.  Very funny stuff when the cab driver started laughing so hard he ran into the curb on the side of the road. 

 

No big sit-down dinner for us as is the common thing these days.  Just a simple reception with cake and punch and mints and peanuts.  Then my brother whisked us off to where we had hidden our car behind the hotel.  Having successfully avoided any would-be followers, we headed off for our wedding night in beautiful, downtown Alvin, Texas.  It was half-way between Bay City and our apartment in Houston, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.  After all, who goes to Alvin on purpose?  And besides, the bed had one of those coin slots that made it vibrate.  Very strange, by the way.  Kind of made us seasick.  Before we went to the hotel, though, we were very hungry.  So what better place to stop for a romantic, wedding night supper than Jack-in-the-Box.  We could get three of those greasy tacos for a dollar in those days, so for two bucks we were all set.  Then we had to find some place that would send telegrams.  Seriously.  We sent a telegram to each set of our parents telling them thanks for … having us, I guess.  Talk about old school.  We were suckers for sentimentality.  Still are. 

 

Our honeymoon was spent in that wonderfully romantic town of San Antonio.  I know what you are thinking.  Long, quiet strolls along the River Walk.  Checking out all of the restaurants and shopping places along the river bank.  Not so much for us.  See, at the time I had never heard of the River Walk.  Don't think Chris had either.  Oh, we saw a sign once.  It was an arrow points down into a dark pit.  I wasn't about to take my brand new wife anywhere that necessitated going closer to hell than I had to.  Especially if I didn't know what awaited in the unknown darkness.  Nope.  I was her protector, right?  So we stayed in one of those big hotels where we were charged ten cents for calling the front desk and asking for a wake-up call that never came.  What a rip-off.  We spent our starry-eyed days at the Alamo, the zoo, and the rides that were left over from some World's Fair or International exhibition that had been there.  Of course it didn't matter where we were.  We only had eyes for each other.  And, at the risk of sounding really sappy and driving many of you out there to further tears at the very thought of it, that is still the case.  I love that woman.

 

Song of Solomon 2:10-13 says, "My lover spoke and said to me, 'Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.  See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.   Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.   The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.  Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.'"

 

Father, thank you for my wife and for every experience we have shared together over these 37 years.  We'll take however many more you have to offer us.  Amen.

June 5 – “Way better than George”

 

 

We had a guest all day and all night.  No, this time it wasn't my imaginary friend, George, who likes to taunt me with tales of baseball and fishing and peaceful, cool nights with no pressing sermons to write or meetings to prepare for.  It was Cailyn.  Way better than George.

 

How good is it to have her around?  It's … grounding, for one thing.  After supper we were sitting in the back yard having a cup of Blue Bell.  Cookies and Cream for all the girls.  Homemade vanilla for me (I forgot that we had some Key Lime pie flavor in the freezer, but who can complain?).  I was staring off into space, contemplating pain and carvings and whether or not I would sleep any tonight.  Chris crashed into my stupor and asked, "Where are you tonight, DadDad?"  I slowly answered from my reverie, "I'm just floating around."  Chris simply nodded, knowingly.  Cailyn, however, heard my reply as well.  After about a three count, she burst into a wide grin and squealed with laughter.  "No you're not, DadDad," she exclaimed, "You're at Nani and DadDad's house."  I have to confess I couldn't suppress a grin myself.  Who could help it, looking at a face like that?  I did manage to gather myself enough to answer, "But I'm a cloud."  Cailyn squealed again, "No you're not.  You're DadDad.  You're so silly."  Doesn't take much to delight a three year old who has had a good nap, does it?

 

Later on I was trying to get some work done at my desk.  We plan to go to San Antonio Friday for Zakary's birthday, so I have to get a week's worth done in three days.  And of course Cailyn realized I wasn't in the room where she was, at her back and call.  And the cries began, "DadDad, where are you?"  Didn't take her long to find me, though.  Chris nudged her just enough when she asked, "Where do you think DadDad might be?"  Ouch.  But find me she did, and crawled right up into my lap, asking, "Whatcha doin', DadDad?"  I valiantly tried to explain my dilemma of trying to get everything done under the time constraints before me.  She patiently listened, occasionally nodding to assure me she was with me.  When I realized that she didn't understand or care what I was saying, I shut up.  Grabbing her chance she jumped right in with a commemnt of her own, "When you was just a little baby you didn't have any 'puter, any phone, any TV, and any cartoons, right, DadDad?"  I started to argue, but thought better of it.  I mean, we did have a phone wired to the wall with one of those circular things on the front that you had to stick a finger in and spin around to the metal stop bar, then let go when you wanted to dial a number.  And we had a TV that only showed pictures in black and white on three whole stations.  I'm pretty sure I remember some cartoons, too.  Woody Woodpecker comes to mind, and Mighty Mouse.  But, no, we didn't have a computer.

 

The evening ended with a trip to the hair salon.  Well, actually the trip was from the couch to the table.  You can't have your hair done on the couch, silly.    She wanted everyone to have brown, like her.  That seemed boring, so I requested purple and pink.  The process went remarkably fast, but while she had me in the chair she suggested a manicure and pedicure.  Actually she took my hand in hers and said, "Let's do your toenails, DadDad."  That I couldn't refuse.  Ever had a mani-pedi done with sidewalk chalk?  I have.

 

1 John 5:14 says, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us."

 

Father, thank you for that promise.  I know it sounds simple, but it's a pretty encouraging thing to know that I am heard.  Amen.

June 4 – “Seaside Summer Sunday”

 

 

Today is Mom and Dad's anniversary.  Is it still considered their anniversary after one of them dies?  Never have come to a complete conclusion on that one, and Mom hasn't remembered it the last few years.  But I still appreciate the many times they spent their anniversary watching me play baseball.  I didn't even realize it at the time, of course.  Kids' worlds revolve around themselves.  At least mine did.  Thanks, Mom and dad, for all the encouragement. 

 

We had a great service at Seaside yesterday.  The room was packed.  Lots of visitors.  Some we knew very well.  Others were there for the first time.  Actually it was a typical Seaside summer Sunday.  Several of the first-timers stopped me after the service and shared very encouraging words about the teaching.  Anne and Bill Wright were there.  Haven't seen them since we stopped by their house in Flatonia, Texas on our mini-vacation after Chris' Mom died.  Very sweet people.  Another couple, Joe and Vickie, approached me and asked if I remembered them.  For this old brain?  Not likely.  I asked them to give me some help.  Come to find out I did their marriage on the beach about a year ago.  They have had a tough year, and wanted me to do a memorial service for Vickie's Mom who just died.  Joe also told me that Vickie had become a Christian last week and wanted to get baptized in the Gulf.  Always a welcome request.  We'll do that when we get back from youth camp.  They said they would be back often even though they live in Houston.  They really loved the family feel among the group.

 

The youth group had a car wash right after church to raise money for camp.  Someone even paid for our car to be washed.  It sure needed it.  Chris and I had just been joking that we hoped for a really hard rain so our car would get washed.  Thanks, anonymous benefactor, whoever you are.  I haven't heard how they did yet.  The short term goal was $1500 to finish out transportation costs (renting vans and gas).  Beyond that we still have to cover counselor costs and then start knocking down the individual camper costs.  Maybe even cover a scholarship or two.  It's a big undertaking.  The next fund-raiser is a church-wide, no-clothes garage sale on June 16^th.  It's a great opportunity to clear out a lot of the stuff we have accumulated at the church as well as at members' homes. So if you can read this … come.  Please.

 

1 John 5:13 says, "I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life."

 

Father, thank you for a great Sunday.  And please help the kids with the fund raising efforts.  Camp is a great chance for them to draw close to you.  Amen.

June 3 – “Chicken noodle soup”

 

 

So I guess we have firmly established that being sick is no fun.  Even the aftermath is pretty tough.  You know, that weak, frail feeling you get when you realize that there is just no energy left in the pot.  You have drained it all to make it that one last time to the bathroom.  And now that the stomach issues seem to be all cleared up, you still are hesitant to start eating, for fear of the whole thing starting up again.  I started back with chicken noodle soup.  That was always the staple for sick-o recovery when I was a kid.  In fact it took years before I could eat the stuff as just a regular meal.  I wasn't sick.  I didn't need it.  It was as if eating it at any other time would ruin its effectiveness when the chips were down.  Chris finally convinced me that it would be OK.  The world wouldn't come to an end.  The miracle healing powers wouldn't somehow disappear.  In fact wouldn't they still be miraculous if I was already healthy?  Maybe they would give me super powers.  Actually, Chris didn't really say that.  I was just caught up in the spirit of the thing.  I did start eating chicken noodle soup on healthy days, though.  It goes well with a grilled cheese sandwich.  You just dip the sandwich into the soup and mingle all that miracle juice and melted cheese.  Kind of like dipping an oreo cookie into a glass of orange juice.  Thought I was going to say milk, didn't you?  I never have been one to follow convention.  Try it sometime.  Oreos and orange juice.  Just sounds like a winner.  Maybe when my stomach has had a few days more to settle down.

 

1 John 5:11-12 says, "And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life."

 

Father, thank you for little miracles like chicken noodle soup when I'm sick.  Amen.

June 2 – “Graduation and gut-wrenching”

 

 

Well, today hasn't been turning out how I planned at all.  I was all set to mow the grass and do some work in the garage.  Until I left the big Dickinson graduation last night.  By the time I got back to the car I felt horrible. Stomach sick as Chris and I call it.  I just knew I was going to vomiting all over the school parking lot and probably get arrested for being drunk and disorderly.  I guess vomiting can certainly be considered disorderly.  Sure indicates the internal systems are not in order.  I was very sad to miss the big party at the Boyer's house.  Some good friends were going to be there.  At least I made it all the way through the ceremony.  Lora gave us some assigned seating for the event.  Right in the sun.  It was miserably hot until the sun went down.  But other than that they were good seats, for being in a football stadium.  We were able to locate Lora Pat and Allie and Chloe as they walked past us.  The valedictorian and salutatorian gave their speech together.  That was unusual, but quite entertaining.  A couple of standup comics.  I didn't get the inside jokes but the graduates sure did.  And oh, the graduates.  There were around 500 of them.  I knew I was in for a long night, too.  Lots of folks left after their student walked, but hey, Chloe's last name is Woodward.  And I was determined to make it for her sake.  I remember being in the V's at the end of almost a thousand graduates myself, back in the good old days.  Way to hang in there, Chloe.  Lora Pat was doubly blessed.  Her last name starts with a B.  Plus she graduated cum laude.  WooHoo. 

 

They had a big party scheduled at the Boyer home with guests like spaghetti and cookie cake and good friends.  That's what I missed.  So glad I didn't go, though.  I spent a good part of the night in the bathroom.  That's why I'm just getting to the blog and it's already after one.  I can finally hold my head up without it spinning.  Chris ended up mowing the grass.  I had to go out and pull the rope to help her get started a few times.  And when she finished, after struggling with our antiquated weedeater and finally giving up on it, she started feeling queasy.  That's certainly not what we need around here.  Two sickos and Mom to take care of us.  Scary thought.  Chris made it through her shower, though, so I guess we can crash on the couch and wait for … whatever it is you wait for when you don't feel like doing anything and you hope the next thing doesn't involve a rapid flight to the bathroom.  Ugh.

 

1 John 5:4-5 says, "for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith.  Who is it that overcomes the world? Only he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God."

 

Father, give us some of your "overcoming" to get us through this stomach bug.  And walk with those girls who graduated last night.  Amen.

 

June 1 – “Hurricane season”

 

 

Ah.  June first in Galveston.  Dog days of summer are beginning.  Actually summer in Galveston begins as soon as the weather is nice enough for tourists to want to go to the beach.  That means it's been summer for several weeks now.  Baseball is well underway and the Astros are well under .500.  Don't give up on them yet, though.  They are young, and many of the games they are losing are only by a run or two.  I've been fishing a time or two, and the water is nice and warm.  Which leads to the other big announcement about June.  It's hurricane season.  From now until November we watch the waters of the Gulf to see if there is any sign of those threatening monsters.  We've already had a few named this year over in the Atlantic.  I think we are on the C's.  The communities around here have scheduled their hurricane preparedness seminars for all the newcomers to hear horror stories and learn how to make their evacuation list.  Can't say I look forward to another one of those.

 

On a similar note, I went to the next graduation in my collection of events to attend this year.  Ball High School.  The Tornadoes.  My old alma mater.  That first graduation I went to had less than twenty grads.  This one was well over three hundred.  Still not nearly as many as we had when I went.  More like a thousand back then.  Ah, the glory days.  Seaside had several kids in this one.  Cheyenne, Elissa, Melissa,  Peyton, Carly, John.  Wow.  Just realized we only had one guy.  One of my old teachers received a new award they gave in memory of the 126^th graduating class.  Mrs. Marchand was my junior high school English teacher.  She taught me how to diagram a sentence and even to like it.  So I guess it's partly her fault that our boys had to do a lot of diagramming when we homeschooled them.  I'd rather look at it as she gave us the help we all needed to get through the curriculum.  At the last few graduations I have been to for Ball High, the spectators have been incredibly rude.  The noise level stayed up the entire time.  They did much better this year.  Everyone I could see even took off caps for the National Anthem.  Now when it got towards the end and we had been there a few hours, the natives began to get restless.  And when the last graduate was called, a mass exodus began.  As a result many missed the final playing of the school song and the tossing of the hats.  Sad.  I hung around for a while to try to locate some of the parents I knew, but the mass of humanity was just too much.  Besides, I still had to walk home.  Uphill.  For miles and miles.  Kids these days just don't appreciate how good they have it.  Do I sound like your grandparents yet?

 

 1 John 5:3 says, "This is love for God: to obey his commands. And his commands are not burdensome"

 

Father, stick with those grads from last night.  Draw them to yourself.  Amen.