This is a picture from a day hike Josh and I took over the summer. It was to the top of Kennesaw Mountain and back down. Josh walked the 1+ mile all the way to the top of the mountain by himself. We only had to take one break on that climb, and this picture is from that break.
There’s a number of things to note. First is the backpack. This is traditionally Josh’s mode of transportation for these types of excursions. This trip was a first in that he made it all the way through the first leg of the journey without need of this backpack nor Daddy’s arms.
Second is the little red dog. The little red dog is actually a doll of Clifford, the Big Red Dog. Josh likes Clifford a lot, but Clifford has been known to wind up on the ground during the various family excursions. Josh was carrying Clifford on this particular excursion, and Clifford was not dropped once.
Finally the water bottle. What you don’t see is that I had a sippy cup for Josh to use, and I prepared it for him at the beginning of the little break we’re having here. Josh however saw my larger water bottles and would have nothing short of his own larger water bottle. It was kinda funny watching slugging that water bottle back. The day was so warm/hot, neither I nor he particularly minded that it went places other than his mouth – namely down his neck and front.
At the top of the mountain, Josh and I feasted on fruit, cheese, and crackers – and lots of more water. Afterwards, Josh climbed into the back pack, and we headed back home. On the car ride to home, Josh fell asleep and took a big nap.
Josh had such a good day that day that I wanted to show him off. So a week or two later, we took a family trip back to the mountain and invited the Hollandseses along. Suffice it to say that Josh did not do as well that day. In fact, he and I had to split off from the rest of the group to have a little “discussion” about the temper tantrum he was throwing. Ah the life of the 2 and a half year old. It is so tempermentally unpredictable. The good moments are really good. And the not so good moments have a tendency to really not be such good moments. The good moments more than make up for it – as you can see, there’s much more to my recollection of our good trip over the bad.
Right. A story.
I don’t think this one is so much a story as much as a relation … a glimpse into me.
I have been thinking a lot of my brother. Tonight because I watched a show called Brat Camp – he’s a field counselor at another camp that is similar to the show. It makes me really proud knowing he’s doing something so good for people – for kids who are at the best places in life to change. When I got married, I thought of him as a part of us was being put up on the shelf – a time of being and togetherness that was slipping away except for the occasional get togethers and merriment. When I was in college, I thought of him because of a lot of hardships he was going through in highschool and his first years in college – and always admiring how he stuck to things, never giving in to the pressures of the powers that be, never succumbing to the depression I knew that gnawed away at his heart.
As a younger boy (most people will say there is still very much boy in me) I loved the idea of flying. I thought it was great … if I were to be an animal, it would either be a wolf who could speed through the forests or some bird of prey above it all with a keen eye on everything. Yet thinking back on my life, I can’t ever think of taking a moniker for myself that involved the wind, air, or flying – no, such names were only for my brother.
I use to make up stories for my brother and me. They were the kinds of stories most if not all young boys loved – adventure stories. They generally always featured two heroes, and in most and certainly the best stories, the heroes names were Fireball and Tornado. Incidentally, my brother and I each had a hermit crab – mine named Fireball and his named Tornado. What shocking coincidence. I can’t tell you what adventures were had … only that at the time my brother and I thought the adventures were of the grandest and best told sort … and the stories would not be worth half or even a quarter of their value if the heroic pair were not together.
Later in life, when I went away to college, I adopted the handle mb10 for online play – mb10 a shortened version of monkey boy 10 (too long and irrelevant to explain here). My games of choice in those days were Command-n-Conquer and Descent. My brother fell in love watching me play Descent, and soon he began to want to take turns in the online world. For this purpose, we (or rather I) developed the handle WindLaufer – a german rendition of WindRunner. More often than not, this was shortened to just Wind. He quickly became better than me – a minor ego bruising that I’m more proud of than anything (save his bad temper that also developed during that time).
In the core of me is the idea of my brother. When I think of him as I do tonight, that part of me stirs, lifts, and begins to fly. I become exhilirated, high, emotional. There’s a lot of good things about me, and I cherish those things that my brother and I have together. In a lot of ways, he’s the reason married life is so easy for me – being comfortable with someone, being open with someone, being free with someone. …and so I often find myself missing him yet being proud of him wherever he may be.
My spirit runs in the turbulent winds of the world … and it is with my brother I learned how to fly … and whose company and memory brings glimpses of what must be the winds of the aeries of paradise.
So I took my (almost) yearly camping trip with my family (wife, kids, folks, and brother) to Deep Creek next (or in?) Bryson City, North Carolina. This was the first year that Josh might actually remember something of it. Unfortunately for him, he’s most likely to remember (1) falling down, (2) bruises from falling down, (3) being constipated, (4) the unfortunate remedies for constipation, but maybe if I’m lucky (5) playing in the creek, throwing rocks. I’m certain to remember (1) through (4) – sheepishly, uncomfortably, albeit just the slightest jovially – but the joy on his face during our two days of (5) is what I’ll cherish.
(more…)
For I could wish that I myself were accursed, separated from Christ for the sake of my brethren, my kinsmen…
– St. Paul, Letter to the Romans, Chapter 9, verse 3
I think in order to make this statement, you would need to have a real zeal and love for your people; a deep devotion that compares to what most people experience only in family. I doubt Paul says anything lightly, and so I think this is perhaps a keen insight into the loving man that is Paul. Not a devotion to theology, but a devotion to his people and his God.
I am deeply committed to my family — not just the one I rear and provide for, but also for the family that reared and provided for me. Their mere being provides for me; their fellowship fills me up; their love inspires me. I am driven to demonstrate how great my family is in what I do – not to earn my place, for that has already been provided, but out of faithfulness, obedience, and love.
And in this way, I find myself before God – my Father through Jesus. How can I be faithful with idle hands – or worse hands that know no obedience? Just as with love, faithfulness is not idle – it is active. And so, my works – my obedience – are needed for my faith. Not to earn my place before God – that has been provided to me by faith – but to demonstrate that I have a place before God, that my faith is real. We know God is faithful to His people by the great things He does for us. Why would the reverse not be true?
I could be wrong, but I think Paul feels the same way.
(I wrote most of this two days ago. I saved it, forgot about it, wrote about the park in the meantime, and then Lisa, being nosy (and taking advantage of my lack of logging out) found it, liked it, and so I’m posting it after a few very small edits.)
Alright, so, I’ll say it: I’m in love. But in general, I tend to try to avoid that phrase as it makes me cringe. I cringe because I tend to think that people don’t really understand what it means and what they do mean is merely “I’m really excited and infatuated about this person or thing.” So, since I don’t want to be a part of that crowd, I try to avoid saying it.
But today I cannot avoid saying it because I am thoroughly in love, and I need to get it off my chest. So let me first tell you about my day.
My day started after a night of bad sleep – bad sleep being waking up every few hours to help Lisa with baby William. I was up around 7:30-ish to fetch Joshua out of his room because he was awake and beginning to grumble about his bedroom prison. After cuddling with Lisa in Mommy-Daddy bed, Lisa heads off to shower, and I head downstairs to start the morning routine: breakfast, childrens’ clothes, then shower. We’re out of the house at 9:20 for the baby’s first doctor’s appointment.
We arrive around 9:40. Josh is watching the fish in the aquarium, Lisa is filling out paper work, and I am relaxing. Josh grabs a book, and we read it together. Josh, not being interested in the book, puts it down where another boy picks it up to have it read to him. Josh gets jealous, and so I enter into Operation Distraction. Operation Distraction is a mild success, but it utlimately results in Josh initiating Operation Terrible 2. After a few unsuccessful attempts at Operation PD (Public Discipline), I have to resort to Operation MD (Mean Daddy). Josh and I go have “a talk” in the van, where I force him into “the chair” (his carseat), let him scream, turn up the music, and wait for the screaming to subside. Operation MD continues to have tremendous success. We go back inside, and the rest of the doctor’s visit is pleasant.
We return home where we all have lunch. Lisa and William nap for the afternoon while Josh and I mess around. I keep asking Josh if he would like to go to the park. He consistently answers no until it reaches 2:00. At 2:00, I begin to inititate Operation Nap Prep, and Josh initiates Operation Guilt. Operation Guilt goes a little like this: “Park?” “No, Josh” “Park! Park!” “No, Josh, it is time for your nap. You know this.” “Park! No Nap! Paaark!”
Because of Operation Guilt, I let Operation Nap Prep last much longer than it should. This results in me losing my temper. Josh suffers the pain of Operation TL (Tough Luck/Love) – he is thrown into his crib to sort out this nap thing for himself for the next 1.5 hours. I crawl into my own bed, desperate for sleep now.
My merry housewife, however, awakens from her blissful afternoon nap at the same time William does. They share a feeding in bed next to me – which typically I wouldn’t mind, but it was an awful distraction today. My nap essentially stunk – even after Lisa and William left the room. But, at least Josh’s nap was good – because he woke up happy and ready to go.
Josh and I then headed to the park as I promised.
We headed back home where Josh balked at dinner all night – I did not give in though, and he went to bed without a decent dinner. Perhaps he’ll eat better tomorrow (nope!). He and Lisa got to have some quality Mommy-Josh time during bath time and bed time, but Lisa, not yet recovered from the pregnancy, cannot be firm with Josh like you must be. So, I, the enforcer, had to finish the job.
William and I bonded tonight while I was on the ‘net and reading. He slept in my arms the entire time. Lisa and I shared desert and tea and read The Screwtape Letters. And now, I’m preparing to be off to sleep.
But the point of this whole post is to show that I have all these things, a lot of which is not fun, but none of which I’d abandon. This is being in love – often it’s retrospective more than in the moment – and I cherish every moment of it. And above all, I thank God for it. I cannot imagine how else I could have come by it all. How fortunate and blessed I am… I am so not worthy of it.