Random Because

What the french toast?

Did you think I wouldn't find out about your little doo doo head cootie queen?!

Who ARE you calling a cootie queen, you lint licker!

Pickle you - kumquat!!!!!

You're over-reacting

No, Bill over reacting was when I put your convertible into a wood chipper, stinky Mc Stinkface

You Hoboken !

Fabulous ! New Orbitz raspberry mint cleans another dirty mouth ....

But this weekend we celebrated Mother’s Day, and so we went to my daughter’s house. One of the things I miss about being the father of small kids is their enthusiasm for just seeing you and spending time with you, and having grandkids is another blessing in that regard, and an opportunity to slow down time by just saying “yes” as much as possible.

This can cause a dilemma, of course, when both kids want you to do different things at the same time, but I try to show them how to share in these situations. They’re learning—grudgingly!

Anyway, there were a couple of highlights for me this day. One was as I was lying on the couch and the 2-year old cuddles up next to me holding a balloon and says, “I la you.” I said, “I love you, too.” She repeated it a second time, as did I, wondering if perhaps she was talking to the balloon. But then she says, “ I la you, Pops.”

That got me, because that’s the first time she’s said that unprompted (usually it’s only upon leaving and after we’ve said it to her first). But it doesn’t stop there. Aside from her usual behavior of grabbing my finger and pulling me around the house, unwilling to let go for any reason, when it was time to go, she wasn’t ready for us to part.

As we stood to go, she lay down on the floor, latching onto my foot and said, “No, Pops! Don’t go!” She continued holding onto my leg, repeating the same thing, and when I made a move to leave, she stood with her arms and legs spread , blocking my way!

She did eventually let us leave, but it tore at my heart to see her want to spend so much time with me. It is just a reminder of how important time with kids is, and how quickly it evaporates. In less than a week, she’ll be turning three!

Soon she may have other interests, as her older brother does, who during all this was more interested in playing Xbox (although, admittedly, **with** us, which is another discussion altogether, as he’d recently spent some time in the back with Dad discussing how to play nicely with others when they don’t play to his liking).

This became even more poignant to me when we went over to her other grandparents’ house for dinner. She and her brother were already there, and she was just getting up from her nap. Mom brought her out from the room. As soon as she turned the corner, her Buelita and I were greeted with that huge grin. Although I was behind her Buelita, she kept her eyes glued to me. When Mom handed her over to Buelita she immediately reached for me, as if there was no one else there!

She does the same thing when she’s dropped off in the morning. As soon as she’s set down and catches sight of me, she excitedly crawls to me to be picked up (even crawling past toys and her Buelita).

Another cute thing happens when she’s getting into something she’s not supposed to. When her Buelita tells her, “Ah-ah!”, she’ll either stop or look at her with a smile. But if I tell her no she will sometimes turn away, bowing her head. Then soon we will hear a deep breath and a loud cry! Real tears! It’s like she’s so hurt that her Pops could dare tell her “no”!

Today I came home for lunch, and I got to enjoy something that hasn’t happened in quite some time. When I walked in, my grandson hopped up and immediately ran over to me:

Pops! Say, “What’s that over there?” and run!

He loves to chase me around the house, but to start I usually “distract” him to get a head start.

But before we could start, I looked down at his baby sister, who seemed to be looking off in the distance behind my knees. She sat there for a moment, then made a squeak and started crawling toward me to be picked up.

This is more of an addendum to the previous post, as I was told last Monday (a week-and-half ago) that I would also have a different supervisor and begin working on another department’s website along with ours.

Lately things are changing. Yes, things are always changing, but not so drastically. Friday was the last day for my coworker and fellow designer of 11 years. Sunday, our preaching minister told us he's ready to move on. The dynamics of our leadership team are in shambles, and some hard conversations are soon to come. My job feels like a dead end, and I'm finding little satisfaction at work. The friendships that once were deep are virtually non-existent. My daughters have brought two new baby girls into the world. I'm turning 46 on Thursday. This pandemic has altered how we worship, how we work, how we shop, how we spend time together, and how we think about one another. People around the world are becoming more aware of centuries of abuse and oppression. Sinful behavior is being glorified.

I am acutely aware of why games such as Dungeons & Dragons, cartoons and anime, and nostalgia are so attractive to me right now. The idea of a midlife crisis just makes so much sense, as it becomes more and more evident that the idealistic life I imagined not only has yet to happen, but it truly seems impossible to achieve.

But I'm not giving up hope. I'm not even wallowing too deeply in self-pity or despair. I'm just waiting. I tried to stretch a bit inside this confining box, but found I lacked the drive to destroy it entirely for so many reasons. And so I'll wait. Wait for things to settle. Wait for my bones to adjust. Wait for my Father to chip off more unsightly corners and mold me into what He envisions me to be.

And I'm grateful for what I do have. God has reminded me lately of the incredible blessings that this bland job has provided, and the richness of the relationships that I've fostered, and the joys of spending countless hours helping to raise grandkids in an atmosphere of love and happiness and hope.

Chided by her lover Jealous of our embrace She rises to meet him

His sister, far crueler Beckons to me Spewing her demands

It is unquestionably universal that this pandemic has been difficult for us all. However, one incredible benefit I’ve enjoyed is spending a lot more time with my grandson, as our office is on biweekly remote work. My grandson and I get to go to the park together, I get to enjoy playing cars on the floor with him throughout the day, eating lunch together, rocking him to sleep, and cuddling with him when he wakes. One particularly fond moment amongst the myriad was this afternoon, when his mom came to pick him up.

He noticed a bag of oranges on the counter, so, as a snack to take back home, he asked for some. R began peeling them and cutting them into bite-size chunks for him. V—his mom—wondered, as did I, if they were sweet, so I nabbed a slice and took a bite. Since my grandson was watching, I pretended to choke and pass out—morbid for us adults, I’m sure—which caused him to giggle. When R offered him a slice, he quickly said, “Pops?” and handed it to me to eat so he could get another show, which I was more than happy to oblige. This went on for several minutes, all the while R becoming more flustered at the fact that I was enjoying the fruits—pun intended—of her labor, originally intended for my grandson, E.

I recently decided that it was time to apply to graduate school. It was not an easy decision, both financially and with regards to the amount of time involved. But I went through the whole process, preparing my portfolio, procuring three letters of recommendation, writing a letter of intent, etc. I also had to interview with the admissions committee.

Today, I received a letter of rejection. It was simultaneously a relief and painful. I was trepidatious about attempting to return to school after 20 years, as well as figuring out how to pay for it. But I also feel the weight of being unwanted. It feels very similar to a breakup: What did I say or do that was wrong? What could I have done differently? Maybe we’re not a good fit. But it seemed so right! Is it me or them?

The problem I have now is that my personality makes it difficult to let these things go. I want to know why! Of course it would be great to be accepted, and don’t have any ill will toward them. But give me an explanation! It feels unresolved. I sent a letter to the admissions advisor. I really hope to hear back from her. Who knows? Maybe it’s something simple! Or maybe God just has something else in mind for me.

It immediately caused me to ponder how our Heavenly Father sometimes treats us. We are on a difficult climb, and it can feel like we’re in this alone. We don’t feel His touch, and there are some scary parts, especially right toward the end. Yet His hands are there to keep us lest we fall, allowing us the freedom to grow and thrive on our spiritual climb to Christ-like maturity.

I was still pretty full from lunch, so I suggested ice cream. Of course, with this COVID-19 pandemic still wreaking havoc on society, we couldn’t eat there. T suggested we head to the house, and when we pulled up I was surprised to see my daughter’s car parked out front. When I entered I realized they’d planned a surprise party! They’d ordered Taco Bell tacos (my favorite kind), and my son bought a fun game called Throw Throw Burrito.

I took Friday off, so R and I went for a bike ride in the morning (which was okay; she’s simply not a fan). We then headed to the outlet mall, where I bought some new shoes. I totally forgot that it was tax-free weekend, which meant there were a lot more people there (and, again, with the pandemic, meant we actually had to wait in line before entering the busier stores). We also bought a nice t-shirt so I could make a D&D shirt from the logo my coworker printed out for me.

When we got home, my daughter and her family were waiting, so we played with my grandson until he passed out (I my arms, of course!), then we played D&D!

The games was awesome! They fought a manticore and my son-in-law and wife were both knocked unconscious! The highlight of the game was the death saving throws. X rolled a 1, and so had two fails before he was revived. But R was stuck out alone, and so she had to rely purely on her rolls. She’d been rolling badly all nover gut, so there was concern she could actually die. She failed, succeeded, then failed, so the next roll was intense.

She tossed the die with her eyes closed, and I couldn’t see it behind the DM screen, but suddenly X says, “natural 20!” Not only had she succeeded, that nat20 meant she’d actually gained 1 hit point and come to consciousness! We were all nervous that she would actually lose this character that she’d grown to like, but that one roll brought cries of elation! I LOVE DUNGEONS & DRAGONS! This has been a great weekend.

This is a reminder to myself of the overabundance of joy my grandson brings to me. Even during this pandemic, with limited time together, he gets excited when I’m around. He’s currently 18 months old, and there’s a fear that, given even a short amount of time, our bond will weaken. But Tuesday we went over for my yerno’s birthday, and his huge smile and gasp when I entered the house filled me with pleasure. Soon we were playing in the backyard, and, because of the brightness, I went inside to get my sunglasses. Even though his dad was outside with him, he got upset that Pops had gone inside, and I had to quickly grab my sunglasses and head out to play again.

Later that evening, well past his bed time, he was wound up, literally running circles around me over and over again, spinning until he collapsed in dizzy giggles. Mom was trying to usher him to bed, but he was having none of it. Finally, I thought I’d give it a try, and he immediately followed me up the stairs, where we read bedtime stories together (we let him pick two: I read the first, and Buelita tried to read the second, but he took it out of her hands and handed it to me, then snuggled up to my chest in his tent while we read the second).

I know I’m not the only Christian whose faith has wavered over the long haul. That alone is comfort, yet still, the struggle remains. It becomes more poignant upon hearing of sincere believers who, after much contemplation and study, cannot honestly believe that it is true. It makes me wonder if I’m just in it because it’s all I’ve ever known. Not that I’ve never looked deeply into these things either.

However, today as R and I watched another episode of Survivor: Redemption Island, it suddenly clicked with me. One Christian, Matt, was one of the first voted out and spent the vast majority of his time alone on Redemption Island, only coming back to win in challenge after challenge. In one episode, he was basically at his wit’s end after having returned to the game, then being immediately voted out again to Redemption Island. He felt like he’d done whatever it was God wanted him to do on the island, and he seemed ready to give up. Yet he still won, and the woman who he beat then said that she had gone into the game determined not to make friends, but after meeting Matt, decided she was going to find a church when she got home.

In another episode, he was joined by another guy who seemed to be searching for Christ and was studying the Bible with Matt. At this challenge where they had to compete to stay in the game, the other guy, Mike, won. The reward was to spend time with a loved one. However, he had the option to allow Matt and another guy who had also won the right to remain in the game to spend time with their loved ones, or to allow the six who had actually voted him out to spend time with their loved ones. This came at the cost of not getting to spend time with his mother. Mike’s response: He’d just been reading in “Matthew or Mark” that the greatest commandment was to “love your brother as yourself.” So he decided that, for the most good, to allow those who had voted him out to see their loved ones.

I realized at that moment that, ultimately, if all of this proves false and we are just purposeless matter floating through the universe, it doesn’t matter. Christianity lived out is the only way to live a fulfilling life. This is a walk of faith, as none of us is sure. But, seeing faith lived out before others in such an impactful way has reassured me of the importance of following Jesus.

Today was special, because I got to spend the morning with my grandson before heading off to work. He sat in my lap and shared my sausage, eggs and potatoes with me. Now that he no longer lives with us, it’s less often that I get to play with him. Then, this evening, he and V came by because she had to wash some clothes. As soon as he came in, he went straight to my arms and wouldn’t leave, not even for his abuelita, who takes care of him every day! He’s not normally much of a cuddler, but he was really holding on to me. I wanted to write down how this felt so I wouldn’t forget.

The next day…