December 13 – “Stinky Wars”

We got to do another one of those FaceTime sessions with Caleb and Zakary the other day.  Great technology for grandparents.  Kudos to the iPhone people, for sure.  I particularly enjoyed one interchange between Caleb and Cailyn, who was over here at the time.  Those two are almost exactly the same age.  I think they came in just a week or two apart, if I’m not too mistaken.  As a result they seem to speak the same language.  I know they have many of the same ideas as far as driving parents cuckoo are concerned.  Must be a generational thing.  That’s always a safe place to place blame.  Anyway, Caleb and Cailyn got into an argument.  Not really an argument like you might expect a couple of almost four-year-olds to get into, though.  They were both laughing.  But they were both quite passionate about their individual claims.

Here’s how it went down.  They have discovered that if you move really close to the screen camera, it looks to the other person that you are moving close to them.  Definitely gives rise to a myriad of possible scenarios.  Throw in a random suggestion here and there from an innocent bystander such as a grandfather, and a mundane conversation suddenly becomes a situation comedy worthy of viewership around the globe.  Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that big a deal, but I thought it was mildly entertaining. 

I began when Caleb stuck his bare foot near the camera’s eye.  I simply remarked in an offhand fashion, “Oo-wee.  That’s one stinky foot you got there.”  And in a kind-hearted effort to make sure his young son had adequately heard and processed the comment, his Daddy added, “DadDad wants to know if you have stinky feet.”  And that’s how it began.  Attack after attack of the stinky feet began.  How could Cailyn not join in the fun?  Hey, I even wanted to take off my shoes and get in on the fun.  Almost did, too.  But that’s about when the verbal part of the battle reached its height.  Caleb and Cailyn were obviously engaged in a negotiation of some sort.  Were they attempting to reach a peace settlement?  Not so much.  It did have to do with the offending appendages, however.  They were trying to determine who had the, well, the stinkiest feet.  Caleb’s final proclamation was, “Mine is one hundred stinky.”  Wow.  That’s pretty hard to beat.  I figured the issue was pretty much settled right there.  But no.  There was a female voice yet to be heard in this matter, and she was determined to have the last word.  Cailyn countered with, “Well, mine is …” (She paused here, probably to gain the needed dramatic effect before making her final pronouncement) “Well mine is twenty stinky.”  OK.  I know what you are thinking.  In our world a hundred is usually considered higher that twenty.  But we were dealing with three-year-olds here.  And they have a language of their own.  Remember the whole generation gap thing.  Caleb seemed to back down.  Maybe it was because his Dad intervened in an effort to get the subject changed before it escalated into something beyond his control.  I think it was already beyond our control, to be honest.  No, I think there was something in the language of the two three-year-olds that said, “Twenty trumps a hundred every time.”  Perhaps I should turn over my data to a sociological research center.  Maybe I could get it published.  “Intricacies of speech patterns among three-almost-four-year-olds and their ability to confound the elderly.”  Nah.  On second thought, the meanings would probably change before it ever reached print.  And I sure don’t want to be an object of ridicule among that generation.  I can hear it now.  “Twenty greater than a hundred?  That’s so yesterday.  Everyone knows that garfel or even otricious is the way to go.”

Psalms 47:1 says, “Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.”

Father, you are truly the most garfel and otricious One that ever was or ever will be.  Amen.

December 12 – “Couch excavations reveal incredible find”

We faced another interesting dilemma in the saga of living with an elderly parent.  Mom lost her only remaining hearing aid.  One of them stopped working a while back, but she was doing fine with just the one, so we have postponed getting it fixed.  That would mean taking her on a trip up into Texas since her doctor is in Houston.  But then the last one came up missing.  It is impossible to tell when or where exactly she might have lost it, since her communication skills have diminished quite a bit.  Our only recourse is to do what we did yesterday – have a scavenger hunt.  Let me say up front that we weren’t successful.  Well, not in that we did not find the hearing aid.  Some good did come out of the whole search and rescue operation, though.  The rugs got vacuumed.  That’ll help Chris prepare for our Christmas Party tomorrow night.  I was most excited about the finds hidden deep inside the hungry crevices of the couch.  One of the boys has borrowed our wet/dry vac, so I decided to dig in and do it the old fashioned way. 

I rolled up my proverbial sleeves and bravely crammed my arm blindly into the abyss, heedless of any hidden dangers.  My first foray provided pretty much what I expected, some stale Cheetos and a raisin.  At least it proved that whatever might be trapped down there could indeed be brought to the surface.  My arm disappeared to the elbow for long moments each time, and each time it brought back something.  A tiny Lego man’s head.  A Lego spear.  A Lego quiver of arrows.  An entire Lego man.  Are you sensing a pattern here?  Obviously I had stumbled upon the Legendary Lego Land of the Lost.  Being the careful archaeologist that I am, I determined to fully excavate this find and bring to light its true story.  More Cheetos.  Piles and piles of lint.  Globs of … what was that stuff?  Sadly, I was operating without the benefits of modern technology, so some potentially exciting finds had to remain a mystery.  Then came … a quarter.  Treasure.  I had read about such finds, but rarely have I personally experienced one.  Then a dime.  And a penny.  Another penny.  Thirty-seven cents in all.  What a find.  Why, that could buy … a tenth of a gallon of gas.  OK, so not that much, but every little bit helps, I guess.  The find of the day, though, came when I uncovered what appeared to be a wristwatch.  Yes, after carefully removing all the debris, there it was.  An actual wrist watch.  But not just any old wristwatch.  No, indeed.  For this watch was inscribed within.  It wasn’t the writing that caught my eye so much as the image.  I carefully examined it, and to my surprise, there on the face of the watch was a picture of … could that be … Lego C3PO?  And the words … Lego (I could have guessed that).  And sure enough … Star Wars.  What a find.  After consulting with my esteemed colleague (Chris), I decided that there was only one person on the planet who could fully appreciate the gravity of this particular find … Professor Zakary of the San Antonio Institute of Lego Culture and Creativity.  I have heard he has moved on to a new area of expertise – Hobbitus Extremitus – but perhaps he will still be interested enough to join me in studying this remarkable find.  Now, how shall I go about contacting him …?

Psalms 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Father, we could sure use some help uncovering the hiding place of that hearing aid.  Amen.

December 11 – “In the Texas-al Spotlight”

I had an interesting phone call from Joshua yesterday.  Now, I don’t do well on the phone any more, primarily because I just can’t hear all that well.  As a result there are times when I have to ask for repetition or clarification.  I was convinced my ears were losing even more capacity after I said “Hello” in this call.  After hearing Josh repeat it at least three times, I finally made out what he was asking.  The question was so random, so unexpected, that I just wasn’t able to place it into any context of experience that seemed reasonable.  When I finally threw all that out the window and stopped trying to make the statement “fit” into a box, I got it.  Not that I understood it right away, but I heard it. 

Josh was asking, “Have you found MeeMaw yet?”  Strange, right?  I answered something along the lines of, “As far as I know she’s in the other room, but I can sure go check.  Maybe you know something I don’t.”  He was chuckling the whole time, so I knew he knew something.  Finally, he could hold back no longer.  Seems he had seen something on several of those Texdot signboards that are all over the freeways.  You know, the ones that flash different messages about wrecks and road construction.  He passed several on his way to work, and they were all flashing whatever it is they flash that would be the senior adult version of an Amber Alert.  An elderly adult had gone missing in, of all places, Galveston.  And the signs in San Antonio had picked up the call.  He naturally assumed that MeeMaw was on her way to visit them and maybe made a wrong turn.  I made a quick sweep of the house to make sure – to lay my own eyes on her – and assured him that she was safe and sound in her usual spot on the couch.  So much for the national (or at least Texas-al) spotlight on the Vaughan Family.

Psalms 46:7 says, “The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”

Father, please give Mom some relief from her cough and her restlessness at night.  Amen.

December 10 – “DadDad time”

Cailyn spent the night with us Saturday.  She fell asleep as we watched one of the thousands of Christmas specials that have begun to permeate the airways.  Something about a reindeer who was convinced he was the son of one of Santa’s elite special forces crew - the ones who pulled his sleigh.  It was one of those that wasn’t exactly a cartoon.  It wasn’t Claymation, either, but it reminded me of those old Davey and Goliath shows that used to come on back in the day.  It had the usual cheesy plot line.  The kid (or whatever they call a baby reindeer) undergoes all sorts of trials and tribulations to make his way to the North Pole headquarters, only to be rebuffed on his first attempt to connect with his father.  Then he proves himself worthy when he starts flying in a battle with a pack of wolves, his father fesses up, he gets offered a spot in the Christmas Eve reindeer rotation, but he decides to return home and just be happy to be himself, and they all live happily ever after. 

Anybody inspired yet?  Anybody asleep yet?  Fairly boring stuff, I know.  But it was the earliest Cailyn has ever fallen asleep in all the times she has stayed with us.  Made for a quiet evening, but didn’t bode well for anyone sleeping in on Sunday morning.  Not that I would have anyway.  I was up at my usual time.  Earlier, actually.  And as you might have expected, Cailyn joined me not long after 6 a.m.  I asked her what she was doing awake, and she said, “I got up at DadDad time.”  I continued my last minute preparations for church while she puttered around, sometimes climbing into my lap, other times creating opportunities for education on the floor nearby.  Suddenly, she jumped up from the floor and ran to the front door, peering out from behind the glass of the storm door.  I thought she may have seen a cat or dog strolling by, but she stood there only a moment before racing off toward our bedroom.  I was puzzled at best, so I listened for what was to come.  Sure enough, as she burst into our bedroom and leapt onto the bed with Chris, I heard her exclaim, “Nani.  Nani.  It’s daytime.”  Now there’s an announcement for you.  Excitement at dawn (well, at 7 a.m., anyway) for no other reason than … it’s a new day. 

Psalms 139:9-10 says, “If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

Father, thank you for … a new day.  Amen.

December 9 – “Bethlehem Report”

Well, I would have to say that the Bethlehem Street Market and Craft Fair was a rousing success, although I have no idea how much money was raised.  The number one concern for the vendors is always lots of traffic, of course, and the vendors were not disappointed.  I was worried at first, since we woke up to a line of showers moving through the area.  It’s hard to be disappointed whenever we do get rain here, but I was hoping it would hold off for a day.  The sun eventually broke through, though. 

As I was driving in to the church I began to notice some new signs on the side of the road: “Bethlehem 6 miles.”  “Bethlehem 4 miles.”  Great idea.  And apparently it worked.  All morning the church property was crawling with folks everywhere.  Over at the bake sale booth, Cindy Bell was worried that she would have a lot of sugary stuff to take home and of course not let go to waste.  Because of the crowds, though, her waistline is safe for another day.  The booth completely sold out.  The garage sale room (Gentile-ly Used Treasures) did really well, too.  All items were offered for the price of a customer donation – you set your own price.  One lady had a small item to purchase and asked what the money was for.  When told it would help students get to summer camp, she handed over a hundred dollar bill.  The goats were a big hit with the little kids.  At the end of the day, while the Stone Family was loading their car, one of the goats was left tied up on the deck right above them.  The poor thing began to feel lonely and starting “maa-ing” - a pitiful wailing sound, as if to say, “Don’t forget me.”  It was so mournful and so loud that one of the neighbors walked over to make sure some child wasn’t being mistreated.  The horse rides were a huge addition to the activities.  They even talked me into getting on one of them.  Interesting sight.  Me in my biblical garb.  I felt like Lawrence of Arabia.  The Seaside reunion went great as well.  Folks from eras past returned for a potluck lunch.  It was great to see Jennifer and the Hutchinsons and the Antleys and the Goldsberrys and Paulette and the Freemans and more.  The food was, as always, fabulous.  Thanks so much to Dennis Allen and Steve Trapman for frying some turkeys for the festivities.  Corey Geran was back for a time, playing his fiddle to the delight of the crowds.  Chris and Mom even made it out in time to get some lunch.  I gave out a bunch of candy canes with a poem I wrote about Jesus tied to them.  By the end of the day we were pretty much exhausted.  Well, I was at least.  Jimmy announced that Christmas Caroling would be postponed until Sunday evening, December 16^th, at 6 p.m.  Nice call, Jimmy.  I think everyone will enjoy it a lot more if we can be fresh.  Gives us a “next thing” to get excited about.

Psalms 46:1-3 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”

Father, thank you for what turned into a gorgeous day yesterday.  I hope you were glorified in what we did.  Amen.

December 8 – “The Wish Game”

I made my trip into Texas yesterday to purchase the last things needed for the Bethlehem Street Market Craft Fair at Seaside that starts this morning at ten.  My task was acquiring enough turkey legs to fry up and have for our lunchtime celebration.  I figured Sam’s would be the best place to start.  They are known for opportunities to purchase in bulk, after all.  I didn’t have much luck there, though.  No turkey legs or wings at all.  I looked around for some candy canes for another activity I added to my role as storyteller, but I couldn’t even find them.  I also stopped by their pharmacy to get some Claritin-D, but they don’t accept coupons.  Strike three.  Time to go somewhere else. 

Chris had already seen some turkey legs at WalMart in Galveston, so I stopped at the one there in Texas City.  Hit the mother lode.  I scored ten packages of turkey legs with three in each package.  Not a bad start.  I had some questions about the wings, though.  There were only three per package like the legs, but they had a lot of extraneous skin and bones that made them cost quite a bit more.  I made an executive decision.  Turkey legs only.  When we run out, we run out.  And of course they had plenty of candy canes. 

After a quick stop to say hello to Jachin, Micah, and Josiah, I took my stash back to the Island and put them in the fridge.  I was hoping thirty legs wouldn’t be enough, though, so Cailyn and I headed over to the Galveston WalMart to see what they had.  That outing started out great.  We no sooner walked in the door than we ran into Cailyn’s Daddy and his crew from the fire station.  Since WalMart didn’t appear to be on fire, we surmised rather quickly that they were on a grocery run.  Sure enough, they had one basket full of cleaning supplies and another with all the makings for nachos.  Mexican food at Station One.  I’m not sure who was more surprised, or more excited, Cailyn or Nathan.  Always good to see a daddy hugging his little girl.  Kind of makes me jealous that I never had one.

Cailyn made it all worthwhile, though, after we got home.  We started a game of secret agents.  It was a new one to me.  We each had to stick a feather behind our ear.  That was the our secret symbol, the designation of our craft.  Then we made a tent in the living room.  Always have to have a safe place to hide.  And while we were hiding out in the tent, Cailyn had another idea.  “DadDad, let’s play the wish game.”  Intriguing.  Not that I would have refused anyway, but I was really interested.  “How do you play?” I asked.  “It’s easy,” she assured me, “What do you wish for?”  Ah, the question of the ages.  A myriad of possibilities flooded my thoughts.  But the one that stuck was, “I wish I could dance with you at your wedding.”  She flashed that trademark smile of hers that is destined to bring many a suitor to his knees.  She softly replied, “You can, DadDad.”  Well, my heart melted.  I had to know what she was thinking, though, so I asked her, “What do you wish?”  I guess I must have set the tone for the discussion, because her reply was, “I want to get married.”  I could tell that she was still pondering, though, so I waited in silence.  Finally she continued, “I want to get married to my Daddy.”  Aw.  That’s sweet.  But for some reason I still held my tongue.  She continued, “But he’s already married.”  Again, aw, especially if you could have seen the pouting expression on her face.  I almost reached out to comfort her, but her face brightened.  Her grin widened.  She reached out and touched my cramped leg and said, “So I can marry you, DadDad.  Now let’s play.”  But I’m already … but … but … never mind.  Think I’ll just hold onto that one.

Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

Father, thank you for wish games.  Thank you more for faith realities.  Amen.

December 7 – “Storyteller”

I’ve been trying to get into my role for our Bethlehem Street Market Craft Fair at Seaside tomorrow.  I’m scheduled to be the storyteller.  That means I get to dress up in a biblical era costume and every so often find the microphone (OK, kind of an anachronism there, I know) and, yep, tell a story.  I don’t know how many stories that will amount to over the course of the day, but the thing only lasts from 10 to 6, so how bad could it be?  And one of the stories is, well, THE Story, so that one is already taken care of by some guys name Luke and Matthew.  Long time ago. 

Actually I have a stash of stories already in my computer.  Not that I can walk around with a laptop, and I don’t have one of those new-fangled I-pad things.  So I decided I would go really old school.  I copied each story out, then taped them together end to end.  See where this is going?  Then I rolled them up and tied them shut with a strip of leather.  How’s that for a quickie semi-authentic scroll?  I am debating whether to burn the ends a little bit to make them look worn, but I do still have to be able to read them.  My next project was to find something to carry them in. What could serve as a first century edition of a laptop?  I finally settled on one of those black cloth bags you can buy at WalMart to carry your groceries in so you can feel like you are doing the planet a favor by staying away from plastic bags.  I turned it inside out so you can’t see the distinctive corporate logo.  That’ll work. 

Along with the story scrolls I had another idea.  I’m going to pick up some candy canes to give away.  Why candy canes?  No they weren’t originally created by some struggling artisan in the year 60 A.D. to be a secret way of distinguishing Christians in a time of persecution.  It’s just that I found a poem I put together several years ago that compiled what history I was able to find about it.  The plan is to roll up the poem into a tiny scroll and attach one to each candy cane.  That way the word about Jesus will get spread into each kid’s household.  Hope that works out. 

Psalms 45:6 says, “Your throne, O God, will last for ever and ever; a scepter of justice will be the scepter of your kingdom.”

Father, tell your story tomorrow.  Draw people to really hear it.  Amen.