July 14 – “Hug swoosh crash”

We had a bit of a crisis yesterday right after our breakfast of champions (read here “donuts”).  Mom woke up and made her way into the dining room.  I encouraged her to have a seat at the table and I would bring her some breakfast.  That’s her usual routine.  So far so good.  I stepped into the kitchen and began fixing her usual bowl of raisin bran.  About that time three-year-old Josiah decided to make his appearance, and in his big-hearted way, he wanted to greet his MeeMaw with a big good morning.  There’s just something about little kids that brings out the best in all of us, I guess.  Mom saw him and even appeared to hear his timid, “Good morning, MeeMaw.”  Her eye lit up.  A big grin spread across her face.  And she leaned down to give him a quick hug.  Except the hug wasn’t so quick.  She decided to enhance it with one of those swing you side to side kind of motions that only great grandmas can do effectively.  To his everlasting credit, Josiah held his ground and even patted her arm as she shifted back and forth.

That’s when the difficulty occurred.  Apparently one hug-swoosh went a little farther than she could control, and Mom completely lost her balance.  Before I could drop the raisin bran box the two of them were crashing to the floor locked in an awkward embrace.  I was afraid Josiah would end up on the bottom of the pile, but fortunately they were in the midst of somewhat of a backswing, so they hit the floor side to side.  Not a sound came from either of them except the dull thud of bodies hitting the tile.  The lack of a scream or cry of even a respectable “oof” was kind of unnerving.  I quickly reached their side and began the process of extricating Josiah from Mom’s clutches.  I assured her that I would take care of him.  She should just stay calm and stay on the floor for a moment.  Josiah was more scared than hurt, I could see that right away.  Mom’s arms had protected him from the brunt of the fall.  I finally gathered him into my arms and asked if he was OK.  And that was his turning point.  The tears began to flow.  I held him and let him cry for a minute or two.  Hey, I would have bawled, too, in his place.  That was a scary thing that just happened.  I carried him with me to go get Chris’ assistance, and by the time we got back to the scene he had settled down some.  I asked him again if he was OK, and he finally mustered a sniffling, “I OK,” followed by, “Is MeeMaw OK?”  He hovered nearby as we tended to her, asking intermittently about her health and concerned about the presence of blood.  How’s that for a tender heart? 

When Chris arrived on scene she asked Josiah if he was OK.  His response to her was: “Nana, I had blood coming from my nose, but when DadDad picked me up, it all went back inside.”  Not sure where that came from.

Mom was all right, but definitely banged up a bit.  Her knee was bleeding and bruised as was a place on her hand.  Otherwise she seemed fine.  Didn’t even flinch when we helped her up and into a chair.  Chris doctored the cuts and tried to put ice on the knee, but Mom wouldn’t keep her leg elevated.  She was more interested in digging into the cereal I had by now brought to the table.  That’s my Mom. 

The moral of the story is, watch out for those great grandma swoosh hugs.  They fall into the same category as cheek pinching and hair scruffing.  They just want to say, “I love you.”  People of all ages have many different ways of showing their love.  Do your best to grin and bear it and let them have their expression.  But stay safe out there.

Psalms 100:3 says, “Know that the Lord is God.  It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”

Father, thank you for the expressions of love I got to see from the hearts of Mom and Josiah.  They sure looked different, but the love was there just the same.  Amen.

July 13 – “A morning adventure”

It came accompanied by warnings.  It approached slowly, but when it happened, it was unleashed with a fury unsurpassed in the annals of Vaughan family history.  What manner of crisis is this?  What simple event could possibly burst onto the scene and systematically shatter any semblance of peace and tranquility that may have previously descended upon this small slice of resort-area pie?  Is it even possible for something to be so significant that it dwarfs concern over tourist traffic?  What in the world could warrant, say, even a trip to WalMart on a summer weekend, dodging carts filled with sodas and beer, hot dogs and hamburger buns, plastic silverware and … wait a minute!  Is that Blue Bell ice cream I see?  Oh, OK.  That’s my neighbor.  So I’m not the only one caught in this frenzy of vacationing humanity, grasping for a position in long checkout lines, chuckling at the distress of the father who is searching frantically for his lost child, who has discovered the wonderful new game called “Hide from Daddy by staying within ten steps behind him while he looks for you,” and waiting my turn to speak words of encouragement to the harried checker just starting her shift and facing the horrifying prospect of six more hours at her station. 

What, indeed, could so invade our realm and cause such a frenzy of preparatory activity?  Grandchildren, of course.  I can’t imagine anything else that could cause such a ruckus.  Jachin, Micah, and Josiah, too, all descended upon our household to spend the night last night.  And that, of course, means a frenzy of video games and pizza and popcorn and a movie.  Oh, I can say all that for certain, because like it or not, that’s just what you do when you come to Nana and DadDad’s.  Now the morning routine used to be pretty set as well.  Those small cinnamon rolls that come eight to a can that you bake and add icing.  Still a favorite when Zakary and Caleb are here, by the way.  In fact we affectionately call them “Zak cinnamon rolls” on our shopping lists.  But last time they came I shook things up some.  I went for donuts.  And there you have it.  So is instituted a new tradition.  One of the first things Micah said to me when they arrived (after making sure Mom and Dad and everyone else was out of earshot) was “Remember that time we woke up and you went to get some donuts?  Can we have that again tomorrow?”  These guys never forget, do they?  Well, strangely enough, this morning the first one up, after me, of course, was … Micah.  He was still a bit foggy, so I slowly and quietly walked him through some of the basics: “Can you get dressed without waking up Jachin?”  That took some doing.  He went into the bedroom to look for his suitcase, but came back empty-handed.  Seems it was on the floor right behind him all along.  He managed to get dressed, so I went one step further: “Do you have any shoes?”  He started off again, but this time I managed to stop him, since they were sitting right by the front door where he left them when they arrived.  Still whispering, I asked, “Do you think we could sneak out of here and go get some donuts and be back before anyone else wakes up?”  You would have thought I woke up a dragon.  His eyes widened, then creased as his brow furrowed conspiratorially.  His mouth dropped open, then wrinkled up into a smile.  We snuck out the front without incident and made our way to the donut shop.  Micah assured me that both of his brothers liked plain glazed donuts, so we grabbed a dozen.  I couldn’t resist the hot cinnamon rolls fresh out of the grease pit, so in memory of the two cans of Zak cinnamon rolls sitting in our fridge, I added three of those to our treasure. 

We made it back and even into the kitchen successfully and without seeing anyone else.  Micah was exultant at our victory.  So much so that he didn’t even mind when Jachin quickly arrived on the scene and joined in our feast.  Perhaps Micah summed up our breakfast experience best with his exclamation, “Iceman is my name and sugar is my game.”

Psalms 100:1-2 says, “Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.  Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.”

Father, thank you for these grandchildren you gave me.  They are definitely keepers.  Amen.

July 12 – “Oh, my aching back.”

“Oh, my aching back.”  That’s what Mom used to say whenever she was in awe of something (like when we went on a trip together out West and drove on some of those drastic mountain cutbacks in the Rocky Mountains), or when she was just surprised about something (like when we surprised her on her 80^th birthday with a big party at Seaside and quite a few of her friends and family came), or maybe when her kids did something that caused her grief (although I’m sure I was never a party to anything so grievous).  I suppose it started, though, when she actually did have an aching back.  I don’t really remember it, but when I was a kid she had a bulging disc (or maybe it actually ruptured) removed back before it was a fairly commonplace surgery.  Before and after that time she had great cause to complain about an aching back.  I understand in a way I never thought possible, since I have gone through the whole disc surgery thing a few times myself, and even as we speak (well, as I write and you read), I have one bulging in my lower back that occasionally causes my toes to tingle or go numb or just plain hurt and another one doing something in my neck that causes prickly fingers electricity to shoot up the back of my neck and into my jaw and ear.  Very strange feeling, by the way. 

So back to aching backs.  I just wanted to legitimize my complaining for the day.  I worked in the yard yesterday.  Mowed, edged, trimmed some of the vine in the back that was getting out of control, pulled up some stickerburs in 40 Steps (the lot next door), cleaned up the clippings with my leaf blower.  Not that unusual a day, I suppose, as yard work days go.  But by the time I finished, I was utterly exhausted.  I hurt all over and to top it off, I began to have some bouts with indigestion that came out of nowhere, interrupted intermittently with the hiccups or out and out belching.  Very strange malady to have, I assure you.  And quite annoying.  Cailyn got a kick out of sitting in my lap and having each hiccup shake her to her core.  Of course I did exaggerate things a bit to make it more fun, but the hiccups were all-too real.  I took the usual home remedy measures.  Zantac.  Lots of ice water.  Even had a bowl of chicken and dumplings (that counts as chicken soup, the international cure-all). 

The indigestion stopped fairly quickly, but the other two maladies continued on and on.  Right up until our life group began to arrive for Bible study.  That was something to look forward to – leading a Bible study with the hiccups.  I could sense the hilarity in that one.  Miraculously, however, the hiccups stopped just as everyone began to arrive.  No belching, no hiccupping through the entire Bible study.  Guess God had something in there for someone to get a handle on - uninterrupted.  And in his divine sense of humor way, no sooner had we said amen after the final prayer, than my familiar friend the hiccups returned with a vengeance.  And what more could I say?  I did have a plan, though.  When everyone left I pulled out two small scoops of Blue Bell ice cream.  Perhaps I could freeze them out.  And guess what?  It worked.  By the time I downed the very last spoonful, the hiccups were gone, never to return.  Well, at least not last night.  I was able to get a bit of uninterrupted sleep.  At least until Mom decided around 2 a.m. that she needed to explore all the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen.  But that’s a story for another day.

Psalms 99:5 says, “Exalt the Lord our God and worship at his footstool; he is holy.”

Father, thank you for aching backs and indigestion and even hiccups.  Just goes to show once again how very different I am from you.  You are amazingly awesome and profoundly perfect.  Amen.

July 11 – “Wedding craziness”

The weirdness actually started the night before.  I got a phone call from a friend who used to live in Lubbock and still has family there.  Her sister had just called to say that some friends of hers were in Galveston.  That in itself is not so unusual, right?  People from Lubbock coming to the coast for a little vacation.  The unusual thing was their request.  They had been together for over a year, and on the spur of the moment they wanted to get married here in Galveston.  Karen was calling to see if I would be willing to do that.  They really wanted it to be a “Christian wedding” rather than something done by a justice of the peace.  I told her I could make it happen, but the couple needed to give me a call directly instead of having two “middle men” involved.  Well, that connection was made with no problem.  And one of the first things I asked about was the license.  The groom assured me they had done that first thing that morning.  Next question: “And when do you want to do the ceremony?”  Therein came the issue.  They wanted to meet me at the beach that night.  I had to ask the final question: “Do you realize that the license is not valid for 72 hours from the time you apply for it?”  Silence.  I guessed that was not something they had been apprised of.  So I continued with an explanation about getting a waiver.  It would require contacting a judge and assuring him you knew what you were doing.  He agreed to get that done and call me the next day.

His call came in about mid-morning.  They saw the judge.  Pulled him out of a finance committee meeting, in fact.  I kind of snickered and sarcastically remarked, “I’m sure he was devastated to have to miss that.”  They were laughing because they had done some research and discovered that Galveston was one judge short.  Something about legal action against him.  Sigh.  Welcome to Galveston.  They also got a kick out of the judge’s secretary and her explanation of the reasoning behind having to get a waiver.  “It’s so you can prove to him that you’re not drunk and doing something stupid.  This isn’t Las Vegas, you know.”  Well, there you go.  Couldn’t have said it better myself.  We set to meet at the church at 6 and walk down to the beach for the ceremony. 

Around 4:15 we got another call.  Not from the couple.  This time it was April.  She had been in a wreck on her way home from work and couldn’t get hold of Nathan.  Chris told her to call the police, and I jumped in the car to go check on her.  She had been traveling west on the seawall when a tourist traveling east decided it was time to turn left into his hotel … right in front of her.  She honked repeatedly, but sadly, to no avail.  He just kept coming.  April did her best to avoid the crash, even headed right for one of those grand green city beach trash cans, but still he kept coming.  I suppose it could have been much worse.  No one was hurt (Although April did confess that she bumped her head.  Watch that girl for a day or two, Nathan).  There were three children in the other car, none of which were in seat belts.  That could have been bad news, too.  By the time I arrived Nathan had called April back and arranged for a wrecker owned by the family of one of the fire fighters.  She was a bit shaken up, but fine.  The officer completed his dealing with the other driver.  Looked to me like he got a ticket, but I couldn’t say for sure.  The wrecker arrived and the officer essentially dismissed April.  I took a few pictures with my phone, and we headed home.  Nathan and Cailyn were meeting us at our house. 

Oh, remember the wedding?  I made it with minutes to spare.  Even had time for a quick bowl of homemade chicken and dumplings.  The friend and go-between was there to be the official wedding photographer and limo service to the beach (actually, they gave us ride in their golf cart, but limos service sounds so much more romantic).  It was a lot of fun, and they handled the serious parts very well.  I said it before and I’ll say it again, “They are no longer two people, but one.  And no one should separate a couple that God has joined together.”

Mark 10:6-9 says, “But at the beginning of creation God 'made them male and female.'   7 'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife,   8 and the two will become one flesh.'  So they are no longer two, but one. 9 Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.”

Father, walk with that couple through the next phase of their life together.  Amen.

July 10 – “A day in the life …”

After spending most of the morning working on the teaching for Sunday, I started on my trek around the island.  Began with an elders’ meeting out at Seaside.  Helped me get a handle on some of the issues that have arisen with the church’s land that we have leased out to folks to use for their horse riding facility.  Seems that there has been some kind of border dispute with cattle owners on one side and an RV park on the other.  Sounds like an episode of Bonanza or Rawhide.  How’s that for dating myself?  We are scheduled to have a conference with our lawyer about it later this morning.  I sure hope we can get it all cleared up.  I just want to be able to speak the truth when I’m asked about the situation. 

After the meeting I went upstairs to have lunch with the group from central Texas that is staying in the retreat center.  They are led by the guy who brought his family down after Hurricane Ike and helped us work on our house.  He was the infamous Tarzan impersonator.  (Movie reference number two)  Not for his blood-curdling yell or his relationships with monkeys.  He strapped harnesses on himself and trimmed up a lot of the dead trees around our house.  His wife held onto his safety rope for dear life (his), and his kids swept our deck and picked up leaves and things outside.  Great family.  I didn’t get to see Ferrel this time, though.  His ministry group was late getting back from their site.  But I did get to see the rest of the family and meet some of the other folks. 

From there I headed back to the other end of the island to the hospital.  The husband of one of the wedding coordinators (Aren’t there some movies about wedding coordinators out there on the Lifetime channel?)  I work with extensively at the San Luis Hotel has been hospitalized since May with severe pancreatitis.  She finally told me about it this past weekend.  They have been to Seaside as well, so as far as I’m concerned, they are “one of us.”  He was in pretty bad shape, but looks like he is on the positive side of his recovery.  He has advanced to the physical therapy part, and he has a long way to go to regain muscle tone.  He seemed grateful that I came, and he was more than willing for me to pray for him. 

My next stop was fire station one.  (Now I know there are some fire department TV shows.  We watched one last season that Nathan made fun of)  The engine was out on a call when I got there, so I went up to see the chief and his administrative assistant.  The chief signed me into their system for viewing calls that come into the department.  It involved getting an app for my phone and him assigning me an entry code.  He also told me about an app that would give me a thirty second delayed replay of the actual dispatch call.  Now I have a way to determine if I can make it to some of the calls and see the fire fighters in action.  I’m looking forward to that.  He also approved me to do ride-alongs with the crews pretty much whenever I want.  All I have to do is notify his office so they can notify the battalion chief and captains.  Still no word on my uniform, though.  That is sure taking a long time.  I was fitted on April 16^th.  I think I would switch companies or something. I did get to see the guys on shift.  They returned from the call before I left. 

My final destination was supposed to be Randall’s to pick up some prescriptions for Mom.  But I forgot to go. Well, I remembered as I pulled into the driveway, so I poked my head inside to let Chris know where I was going and made that quick trip.  While I was out I decided to stop at WalMart and get some fruit and some chocolate milk.  Fruit was no problem, but sold out of chocolate milk.  This time when I pulled into the driveway I realized that I had left my daytimer calendar book in the cart when I unloaded.  So it was back out again.  It was right where I left it in the cart in one of those cart-catchers in the parking lot.  By the time I got home I was beat.  (This episode felt more like I was living in a goofy, slapstick sit-com.  All that was missing was Moe or Curly slapping me upside the head).  Sigh.  Ain’t life in the ministry grand?

Psalms 99:2-3 says, “Great is the Lord in Zion; he is exalted over all the nations.  Let them praise your great and awesome name — he is holy.”

Father, thank you for adding a touch of the great and awesome in the midst of my mundane days.  Amen.

July 9 – “Connected by fire”

I just have some random stuff today.  Not connected at all, but perhaps interesting.  Maybe I can figure out a way to tie them together.  That’ll be a challenge.

For instance, at Nathan’s birthday party the other day one of the fire fighters told me that they had all gotten together and were offering to pitch in and get me a tattoo like the one they have.  He showed me his on his calf.  That was one I hesitated on right away, so he followed up with, “The one we’re getting you will cover your whole back.”  Uh … right.  That’s just not happening.  I came clean with him right away.  Figured it was best to admit it.  You know, the whole honesty thing.  I confessed that I was just too much of a wimp.  If I had a tattoo like that I might be inspired to run into burning buildings with them, and they certainly didn’t want another old guy to have to rescue.  I’ll wait outside and pray for their safety, and we can talk about it back at the station over a cup of coffee. 

Cailyn was over yesterday.  While Chris was taking a nap she came into my office, plopped herself down in one of the rocking chairs and asked, “DadDad, do you want to talk?”  Now how do you say no to a request like that from a four-year-old?  Of course I wanted to talk.  I asked, “What can we talk about?”  She furrowed her brow for a long moment.  Her lips pursed out as she concentrated deeply.  She actually even rubbed her chin with her fingers in the classic “Thinker” pose.  She must have seen that in one of her adopted uncles in the fire department.  Probably Uncle Andy.  He’s a deep thinker.  And he has a lot of tattoos.  There.  How’s that for a connection to the previous story?  She finally came up with an idea.  “Let’s talk about names for the baby in Aunt Christi’s tummy.”  All right.  I’m sure Josh and Christi would be happy to have some more ideas to go along with Zak’s “Joseph” and Caleb’s insistence on going all the way to the top – “Jesus.”  Her recommendation?  “Crystal.”  I told her I had only known girls with that name, but she assured me it would be fine for a boy.  There you go, Josh and Christi.  Your worries are over.  The name has been decided.  Crystal Joseph Adam Grayson Luke Jesus Vaughan. 

A while back on my morning walk I noticed that the fire chief’s truck was parked in front of a house in the neighborhood.  That was intriguing.  There didn’t appear to be any fires in process, so that was a relief.  I continued on, and the next time around the acting chief was there in the garage of the house talking to some folks.  He saw me and came out to talk.  He told me he was moving into that house shortly.  How about that?  I know of three other fire fighters in our neighborhood already, and if you count Pine Street there is at least one more.  Sounds like we’re gonna have a pretty safe neighborhood, at least as far as fires go. 

Psalms 99:1 says, “The Lord reigns, let the nations tremble; he sits enthroned between the cherubim, let the earth shake.”

Father, thanks again for giving me the chance to be a minister in the fire department community.  Take care of those guys.  Amen.

July 8 – “Three battles”

Josh and Christi stopped by the other day.  They happened to be in the neighborhood after Josh had been deployed to do battle for a week away from home.  It was a two-pronged affair, this battleground of his.  One involved the invisible spiritual realm, for he was speaking at a youth camp.  The struggle between the forces of God and the rebels of Satan.  Josh always had the upper hand in that one, even in the times when he may have felt defeated and ineffective.  He was, after all, a representative of the commander of the hosts of heaven.  How could he lose?  He may not see the results right away, may never see them in fact, but he can be assured that the war is won. 

His other fight, however, was centered in the physical realm.  It, too, involved an enemy that he couldn’t see.  Only the results of the enemy’s presence made its existence come to life.  And the consequences of the enemy’s attack lingered on, even after victory had been proclaimed.  Those consequences affected him physically.  They affected his relationships.  And they certainly drove him to cry out to God for relief.  What a great illustration, a manifestation in the physical realm of the battle taking place behind the scenes in the spiritual.  Josh could never have imagined that his chigger infestation could somehow be of use.  Thanks for sharing your struggles with chiggers and Satan, Josh.  I’m sure they will encourage someone.

Things seemed to settle down considerably after they arrived here in Galveston.  Zak and Caleb were certainly glad to have their Daddy back, and they demanded some quality time with him.  Josh was more than happy to oblige, so the two of them crawled into his lap and settled in for a story.  After hearing his Dad read the story of David and Goliath from the The Brick Bible (that’s a new spin on the Old Testament using Legos as illustrations), Caleb was truly inspired.  He raced over to the couch, flexed his muscles, and turned a somersault or two, declaring, “I’m little enough to be like David.  I can beat Goliath, too.” 

The full-body dramatic enactments were fulfilling, but apparently not quite enough to satisfy.  He moved from there to the Lego stash to recreate the battle using the tiny Lego men as action figures.  Working feverishly, he managed to arrange much of the battle field, but one issue kept gnawing at his mind.  Finally, he could continue no longer.  Leaving the battlefield behind, he sought out the counsel of his all-knowing Dad with the question of the ages.  Well, the question of the David versus Goliath ages, anyway.  “Daddy, were there canons with David and Goliath?”  Ah, now that would have been a turn of events in the Israelite struggle against the Philistines.  But sadly, Daddy had to come clean and admit that there canons had not been invented yet.  Somewhat disappointed, Caleb returned to his enactment, disappointed, but perhaps a little more in awe of the idea that such a little guy could do damage to the towering giant.  Maybe there is more to this trusting God stuff than he had ever imagined. 

Wow.  All kinds of spiritual applications, and I just thought it was going to be a quick chance to say hi and bye to our San Antonio grandkids that we don’t get to see often enough.  One would think that God is at work all round us.

Psalms 98:7-9 says, “Let the sea resound, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.  Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy; let them sing before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth.  He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples with equity.”

Father, thank you for the chance to see Josh and his family.  Show them happiness and keep working near them.  Amen.