I think I'm finally on the upswing from whatever random illness I've been experiencing the past few days. That's good.
Sherri came down for a visit, so I invited some fellow OBU alumni over and we had a mini reunion at my apartment Wednesday night. The next day, I was sick. By Friday, I wanted nothing but sleep. No food, no drink, no love. Just sleep. (I'm kidding. I still wanted love.) So, Sherri's visit was probably pretty lame, because she was pretty much babysitting one of the boys just about the whole time she was here since I was crashing in bed reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn most of the time she was here.
It seems that, every time I get incapacitatingly ill, I have company over for the weekend. My theory is that my body says, "Okay, it's okay now, there's someone else to help Kim with the boys, NOW YOU WILL PAY FOR SLEEPING FOUR HOURS EVERY NIGHT!!!!" Regardless, my parents are coming down for an extended weekend over Labor Day, so at least now I know I won't have to be worried about being sick while they're here now that it's out of my system.
Of course, Isaac seems to have caught it now. Here's hoping the rest of the family isn't sick when my folks are down.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
v2, d401: And what's worse, you're too young to even enjoy the "free sticker" perk
Yesterday was Isaac's 6-month checkup. Only we'd missed his 4-month checkup due to the wedding in San Diego, so the pediatrician took his 6-month information and then gave his 4-month shots. (Fortunately, there are no scheduled shots for the 9-month checkup, so we'll get all caught up in November. This is, apparently, Not Really A Big Deal)
The visit went pretty well. Isaac was his usual content self in the waiting room, and while he didn't particularly like being turned this way and that (Let's see if he can sit up. Look at that! Now what happens when we put him on his tummy? Oh, he doesn't like that...) he was overall cool with everything that was going on. He's like that.
Then came the shots. Man, was it ever sad. The nurse laid Isaac down on the little table, and he was all giggly and smiling up at me, and then she pinched his chubby little thigh, (10th percentile for length but 50th percentile for weight + 90th percentile for head circumference = rolly poly boy!) and suddenly his face just distorted into a mask of sheer agony. The wailing happened a moment later. And it didn't really increase in fervor as she stuck him twice more (two in one leg, one in the other) because he really couldn't be any more upset than he was during that first injection. And the look on his face wasn't only one of pain. There was a lot of sadness there, too. He had no clue why this was happening to him, and it had come out of nowhere. It was one of the saddest things I think I've ever seen in person.
Fortunately, the nurse worked quickly and then (just as quickly) left the room, leaving me to try to comfort my terror-stricken child. I picked him up, patted his back, and said reassuring things to him as he continued to scream as loud as he could. Eventually, he did calm down, but he still clung to me shirt with a death grip. We waited another fifteen minutes before the doctor came back (I guess they have the nurses do the shots so the kids won't develop an unhealthy fear of their pediatrician) and asked if we were waiting on anything. I told her no one had told me we were free to go yet. Surprised, she said, "Oh, you can go! Sorry about that!" The nurse had skulked so quickly away that she hadn't remembered to dismiss us. She even gave a somewhat guilty-looking smile as she left, which was a bit surprising because I figured once you've done this professionally for a while, you've developed a thick skin against babies looking at you as if you were the Betrayer himself.
Anyway, Isaac was pretty worn out by the time we got out of the building, so he slept the whole way home. All this had happened during his usual lunch time, so when he woke up he was starving and still mad, so he was so upset he didn't actually finish his lunch. I got him to go to sleep again for a little while, but he woke soon after with a fever. I gave him some baby Tylenol and a bottle and he finally started to calm down. He even went down for another nap. It seemed he'd slept pretty much all day.
Up until bed time, that is. Not surprisingly, he slept fitfully, and at about 3 a.m. (when I was finishing cooking up some burgers for tonight's dinner--hey, if you're gonna be up at 3 a.m. you may as well make yourself useful!) Kim brought him in the kitchen because he was wide awake and would not sleep. (This was just after Robbie had unexpectedly awaken, groaning for a drink of water) I spent quite a bit of time getting Isaac to sleep, and as soon as I was done with him I heard Robbie crying again (now it's 4 a.m.). Robbie had taken the cup I'd brought to him earlier, taken it into his bed with him, and spilled it everywhere.
I fell asleep at about 4:30 this morning. (I should mention that I was already so exhausted from the day's drama that I had accidentally dozed for an hour or so while putting Robbie to bed earlier) So really, nobody slept regularly last night, and everybody was tired today. Isaac was still fussy and kind of feverish most of the day, and Kim came home from work early so I could get a bit of an afternoon nap after sleeping fewer than three hours last night. Needless to say, it was a weird 24 hours.
And then Will and Jada Smith split up and there was an earthquake on the East Coast. The world has gone mad since these shots. Mad, I tell you!
All right, my head kinda hurts, and I got my chores for tonight done, so I'm going to go ahead and turn in at a nice early 1:30 tonight. After all, I've got a fairly busy day planned for tomorrow.
The visit went pretty well. Isaac was his usual content self in the waiting room, and while he didn't particularly like being turned this way and that (Let's see if he can sit up. Look at that! Now what happens when we put him on his tummy? Oh, he doesn't like that...) he was overall cool with everything that was going on. He's like that.
Then came the shots. Man, was it ever sad. The nurse laid Isaac down on the little table, and he was all giggly and smiling up at me, and then she pinched his chubby little thigh, (10th percentile for length but 50th percentile for weight + 90th percentile for head circumference = rolly poly boy!) and suddenly his face just distorted into a mask of sheer agony. The wailing happened a moment later. And it didn't really increase in fervor as she stuck him twice more (two in one leg, one in the other) because he really couldn't be any more upset than he was during that first injection. And the look on his face wasn't only one of pain. There was a lot of sadness there, too. He had no clue why this was happening to him, and it had come out of nowhere. It was one of the saddest things I think I've ever seen in person.
Fortunately, the nurse worked quickly and then (just as quickly) left the room, leaving me to try to comfort my terror-stricken child. I picked him up, patted his back, and said reassuring things to him as he continued to scream as loud as he could. Eventually, he did calm down, but he still clung to me shirt with a death grip. We waited another fifteen minutes before the doctor came back (I guess they have the nurses do the shots so the kids won't develop an unhealthy fear of their pediatrician) and asked if we were waiting on anything. I told her no one had told me we were free to go yet. Surprised, she said, "Oh, you can go! Sorry about that!" The nurse had skulked so quickly away that she hadn't remembered to dismiss us. She even gave a somewhat guilty-looking smile as she left, which was a bit surprising because I figured once you've done this professionally for a while, you've developed a thick skin against babies looking at you as if you were the Betrayer himself.
Anyway, Isaac was pretty worn out by the time we got out of the building, so he slept the whole way home. All this had happened during his usual lunch time, so when he woke up he was starving and still mad, so he was so upset he didn't actually finish his lunch. I got him to go to sleep again for a little while, but he woke soon after with a fever. I gave him some baby Tylenol and a bottle and he finally started to calm down. He even went down for another nap. It seemed he'd slept pretty much all day.
Up until bed time, that is. Not surprisingly, he slept fitfully, and at about 3 a.m. (when I was finishing cooking up some burgers for tonight's dinner--hey, if you're gonna be up at 3 a.m. you may as well make yourself useful!) Kim brought him in the kitchen because he was wide awake and would not sleep. (This was just after Robbie had unexpectedly awaken, groaning for a drink of water) I spent quite a bit of time getting Isaac to sleep, and as soon as I was done with him I heard Robbie crying again (now it's 4 a.m.). Robbie had taken the cup I'd brought to him earlier, taken it into his bed with him, and spilled it everywhere.
I fell asleep at about 4:30 this morning. (I should mention that I was already so exhausted from the day's drama that I had accidentally dozed for an hour or so while putting Robbie to bed earlier) So really, nobody slept regularly last night, and everybody was tired today. Isaac was still fussy and kind of feverish most of the day, and Kim came home from work early so I could get a bit of an afternoon nap after sleeping fewer than three hours last night. Needless to say, it was a weird 24 hours.
And then Will and Jada Smith split up and there was an earthquake on the East Coast. The world has gone mad since these shots. Mad, I tell you!
All right, my head kinda hurts, and I got my chores for tonight done, so I'm going to go ahead and turn in at a nice early 1:30 tonight. After all, I've got a fairly busy day planned for tomorrow.
v2, d400: Distraction, Thy Name Is....That Guy
Confession time.
While it's true that some of my irregular blogging of late has been caused by sleeping issues (last night I couldn't fall asleep until close to 4), an equally unhealthy portion of it has come from my discovery of the Internet sensation known as the Nostalgia Critic over on ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com. This guy makes me laugh. A lot. And even when I say, "Okay, only one (twenty-minute) video tonight," I usually end up on this site for close to an hour.
This isn't saying I can necessarily recommend NC. He's really funny, his videos are well-edited, and he's giving fairly in-depth reviews of all manner of pop culture film/television sensations from our childhood. (There are also a ton of other similar reviewers hosted on TGWTG's site, but I haven't really found one that's worth its salt yet. They pretty seem much follow the same bewildered mockery/outrage motif, but none of them can do it nearly as well as NC) However, the language is definitely R-rated. That's not me being pious; according to MPAA standards it would be considered R-rated. Also, the subject matter sometimes drifts into what my old college roommate would likely term "yerg territory." My exposure to contemporary world theater has pretty much dulled me to language at coarse subject matter, but I can still recognize it and definitely wouldn't condone it. So if you, like me, have very little chance of being offended by language and are in the need of some nostalgic criticism (and you have hours to spare), you may want to check his site out. While some of the reviews can be hit and miss, most of the Top 11 lists are fantastic. (What? Me? Addicted to a guy who does list/countdowns? Shocker!)
Again, this blog isn't necessarily intended to be an advertisement for NC, though I do know some of my readers would totally get a kick out of him. Really, it's more my coming clean with why I haven't been writing much on here lately.
If you happen to see me online, keep me accountable: No NC videos until I've done some writing, a blog, and any housework that needs done. (I guess if you happen to see me late-night offline for any reason, you can hold me accountable, too)
Because admitting you have a problem is the first step.
(Seriously though, I'll be getting back to this. Sorry for the lapses. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about taking Isaac to the doctor for shots)
While it's true that some of my irregular blogging of late has been caused by sleeping issues (last night I couldn't fall asleep until close to 4), an equally unhealthy portion of it has come from my discovery of the Internet sensation known as the Nostalgia Critic over on ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com. This guy makes me laugh. A lot. And even when I say, "Okay, only one (twenty-minute) video tonight," I usually end up on this site for close to an hour.
This isn't saying I can necessarily recommend NC. He's really funny, his videos are well-edited, and he's giving fairly in-depth reviews of all manner of pop culture film/television sensations from our childhood. (There are also a ton of other similar reviewers hosted on TGWTG's site, but I haven't really found one that's worth its salt yet. They pretty seem much follow the same bewildered mockery/outrage motif, but none of them can do it nearly as well as NC) However, the language is definitely R-rated. That's not me being pious; according to MPAA standards it would be considered R-rated. Also, the subject matter sometimes drifts into what my old college roommate would likely term "yerg territory." My exposure to contemporary world theater has pretty much dulled me to language at coarse subject matter, but I can still recognize it and definitely wouldn't condone it. So if you, like me, have very little chance of being offended by language and are in the need of some nostalgic criticism (and you have hours to spare), you may want to check his site out. While some of the reviews can be hit and miss, most of the Top 11 lists are fantastic. (What? Me? Addicted to a guy who does list/countdowns? Shocker!)
Again, this blog isn't necessarily intended to be an advertisement for NC, though I do know some of my readers would totally get a kick out of him. Really, it's more my coming clean with why I haven't been writing much on here lately.
If you happen to see me online, keep me accountable: No NC videos until I've done some writing, a blog, and any housework that needs done. (I guess if you happen to see me late-night offline for any reason, you can hold me accountable, too)
Because admitting you have a problem is the first step.
(Seriously though, I'll be getting back to this. Sorry for the lapses. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about taking Isaac to the doctor for shots)
Friday, August 19, 2011
v2, d399: Chris Drury Retires
Chris Drury retired from the NHL today. He's been one of my favorite NHL players since he came on to the scene with the Avs. I still remember the day we traded him--as Dater points out in today's post, it was really the only boneheaded trade Pierre LaCroix ever made for the Avs. Even after this past season--where Chris was banged up, injured most of the year, slow and ineffective after two years of injuries and surgeries--I and a lot of other Avs fans were hoping he might re-sign for a third- or fourth-line/penalty killer role. (I think some of the Sabers fans wanted to see him back, too) However, he decided his body just couldn't do it any more, and he hung 'em up.
Robbie's middle name--Christopher--is taken from Chris Drury. I loved the way he played, but I always respected the man he was off the ice as well as on it. He played hard, but never dirty. He never responded to crap in kind. I remember an incident in Buffalo where he was hit into the board from behind with his head down and he missed some time with a serious head or neck injury (sorry, don't remember exactly which). When asked by a reporter what he thought of the guy who did it to him, he only responded that it was in the past, there was no point dwelling on it, and he was going to put in the work he needed to get back on the ice and do his job. He never sank below his own level of integrity.
I won't go on and on about the guy, because there have been much better (and more concise) tributes posted today, and I'll just give you those. First, Avs beat writer Adrian Dater's blog. Second (and more highly recommended for the uninitiated), Puck Daddy editor Greg Wyshynski.
Drury was known for scoring "clutch goals." He always seemed to come up big in the playoffs. His four playoff overtime goals puts him in the company of Hall of Famers. When Joe freaking Sakic says you're the most clutch player he's ever seen, that's saying something. Sure, people got tired of hearing that he pitched the winning game of the Little League World Series when he was 10, but that's just because every channel mentioned it every time his name came up. The man did win the LLWS. He also won a Hobey Baker Award, a Calder Trophy, two Olympic silver medals, and a Stanley Cup. He also spent his day with the Stanley Cup visiting his college teammate Travis Roy, a guy whose career ended when he was paralyzed on his first shift of college hockey. While his career was on the decline, he was named to the US Olympic Hockey Team roster in 2010. Said GM Brian Burke, "We picked Chris Drury because he's Chris Drury." And of course, he scores two clutch goals in that tournament as well.
Look, there were always better players than Drury, I know that. But if you look at how many NHL personalities today put out congratulations or "best captain I ever played with"/"one of the classiest guys I've ever known" comments on their Twitter throughout the day, how many tribute blogs and stories were posted by sports networks across North America, and how many fans who wish he could have had one last year to end his career on a higher note than his 2010-11 season, you get the feeling that the guy is special.
Incidentally, I do have a Top 7 Drury moments. I won't make it as big a deal as my usual Top 7's, but here you go:
7. Drury's response to the hit from behind in Buffalo
6. Skating around all 5 Vancouver players for a last-minute goal against the Canucks
5. Drury and his boyhood idol, Ray Bourque, throughout the 2000-01 season. Lots of great hijinks/stories there
4. Jeremy Roenick publicly apologizing for questioning the selection of Drury to the 2010 Olympic squad
3. Game 5 vs Detroit in 2002, overtime winner. (We lost the series anyway, but that was a glorious moment)
2. Telling Travis Roy's story on national TV
1. Of course, the Cup in 2001. Drury's retirement leaves only 3 guys from that team (Hejduk, Tanguay, Reinprecht) still playing in the NHL.
So, thank you, Chris, for being a role model and a leader. Thanks for the Cup in '01 and the consistent presence at USA Hockey. Thanks for being the kind of guy I'd want to name a kid after.
*sound of alone stick tapping against the ice*
Robbie's middle name--Christopher--is taken from Chris Drury. I loved the way he played, but I always respected the man he was off the ice as well as on it. He played hard, but never dirty. He never responded to crap in kind. I remember an incident in Buffalo where he was hit into the board from behind with his head down and he missed some time with a serious head or neck injury (sorry, don't remember exactly which). When asked by a reporter what he thought of the guy who did it to him, he only responded that it was in the past, there was no point dwelling on it, and he was going to put in the work he needed to get back on the ice and do his job. He never sank below his own level of integrity.
I won't go on and on about the guy, because there have been much better (and more concise) tributes posted today, and I'll just give you those. First, Avs beat writer Adrian Dater's blog. Second (and more highly recommended for the uninitiated), Puck Daddy editor Greg Wyshynski.
Drury was known for scoring "clutch goals." He always seemed to come up big in the playoffs. His four playoff overtime goals puts him in the company of Hall of Famers. When Joe freaking Sakic says you're the most clutch player he's ever seen, that's saying something. Sure, people got tired of hearing that he pitched the winning game of the Little League World Series when he was 10, but that's just because every channel mentioned it every time his name came up. The man did win the LLWS. He also won a Hobey Baker Award, a Calder Trophy, two Olympic silver medals, and a Stanley Cup. He also spent his day with the Stanley Cup visiting his college teammate Travis Roy, a guy whose career ended when he was paralyzed on his first shift of college hockey. While his career was on the decline, he was named to the US Olympic Hockey Team roster in 2010. Said GM Brian Burke, "We picked Chris Drury because he's Chris Drury." And of course, he scores two clutch goals in that tournament as well.
Look, there were always better players than Drury, I know that. But if you look at how many NHL personalities today put out congratulations or "best captain I ever played with"/"one of the classiest guys I've ever known" comments on their Twitter throughout the day, how many tribute blogs and stories were posted by sports networks across North America, and how many fans who wish he could have had one last year to end his career on a higher note than his 2010-11 season, you get the feeling that the guy is special.
Incidentally, I do have a Top 7 Drury moments. I won't make it as big a deal as my usual Top 7's, but here you go:
7. Drury's response to the hit from behind in Buffalo
6. Skating around all 5 Vancouver players for a last-minute goal against the Canucks
5. Drury and his boyhood idol, Ray Bourque, throughout the 2000-01 season. Lots of great hijinks/stories there
4. Jeremy Roenick publicly apologizing for questioning the selection of Drury to the 2010 Olympic squad
3. Game 5 vs Detroit in 2002, overtime winner. (We lost the series anyway, but that was a glorious moment)
2. Telling Travis Roy's story on national TV
1. Of course, the Cup in 2001. Drury's retirement leaves only 3 guys from that team (Hejduk, Tanguay, Reinprecht) still playing in the NHL.
So, thank you, Chris, for being a role model and a leader. Thanks for the Cup in '01 and the consistent presence at USA Hockey. Thanks for being the kind of guy I'd want to name a kid after.
*sound of alone stick tapping against the ice*
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
v2, d398: Deacons Meeting
I went to my first deacon's meeting tonight at church. Which is good, because the staff is supposed to get to these monthly meetings whenever possible, and due to my work at ADP I missed every single one of them over the past year.
Not really much to report, but I thought it noteworthy that I finally made it to one.
Meanwhile, congratulations to all the Spotlighter Award winners! (Will somebody please tell me who the Spoltlighter Award winners are?)
Not really much to report, but I thought it noteworthy that I finally made it to one.
Meanwhile, congratulations to all the Spotlighter Award winners! (Will somebody please tell me who the Spoltlighter Award winners are?)
Monday, August 15, 2011
v2, d397: Just a Roll With a Hole
Too many words last night. Compensating with a couple of video clips from my late childhood/teenage years.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
v2, d396: Sixth
Why didn't I post last night? Because I was angry that nobody commented on the musical script.
No, that's not true. Actually, I didn't post because yesterday was Kim and I's sixth anniversary, and I was busy. A couple friends of ours came by to watch the boys so we could have our first night out since we went to the ballet about a month after Isaac was born. (If you're wondering exactly how long ago that was, the answer is way too freaking long) All things considered, we had a pretty low-key date, but then sometimes you don't feel like having a huge fancy expensive event. Sometimes you just want a good burger and a movie. We went to Pappas Burger (suggested slogan: We're Pretty Much Better Than Most Of Those Other Burger Places) and then to see Harry Potter 7.2, which somehow managed to be both pretty good and mildly disappointing at the same time.
Afterwards, I thought about sitting down to write some touching ruminations over the past six years of marriage. The longer I worked to put any such sentiment into words, however, the more convinced I became that it was more or less a lost cause. Marriage isn't really something that can be understood through mere words. Really, none of the most important things in life are. You can't understand the sense of triumph of a person who recovers from near-total paralysis feels the first time they walk across a room unless you've been somewhere similar. You can't truly empathize with the homeless unless you've spent an extended period not knowing where you'd next lay down your head. You're never prepared for the first time you hold your own child. No one else can understand the bond you share with the friend that scripture says "sticks closer than a brother." And so on and so forth.
Thus, six years of marriage. Why bother to try to tell how hard it's been, how great it's been, how fun, how frustrating? Those of you who have been there already know. Those of you haven't don't know yet. I look forward to the day you do, however. That doesn't mean you can't share in our joy. Far from it! Celebration and sorrow are meant to be contagious. Just because I haven't walked the path of your pain, that doesn't mean I won't hurt for you. Likewise, the fact that I have no adequate frame of reference for your joy, I fully intend to party like it's...well, okay, I won't go there for once. But you get the idea.
On the other hand, I could be really wrong here. It may just be that I'm not gifted enough with words to express my thoughts and emotions on such an event. (In other words: COP-OUT!) However, I've read enough passages--in scripture, in books, in plays, in CD lyric sleeves--that only really made sense to me after I had a particular life experience to think there's likely a principle at play here.
I recently attended my big sister's wedding. Toward the end of the day, I told her I didn't think I'd ever been happier than I was that day. She said, "Um, except maybe for your own wedding day?" I shook my head and said, "I was too young." That was the best I could explain it that night. Given some more time for reflection, I think I know what I was getting at. My wedding day was easily the happiest day of my life. Up to that point. But really, as prepared as we were, and as much prayer and thought and counseling as we had put into our three-plus-year relationship, I didn't really know what I was getting. I said the vows whole-heartedly, not realizing they'd become more profound and meaningful every time I'd hear them the rest of my life. I think I've come to prefer the "traditional" vows because they're often a more realistic depiction of what your life is going to be than the original vows couples usually write for one another. (Don't get me wrong, I love it when the bride and groom write vows for each other. It's always a great moment and a real tears-of-happiness moment in any wedding, but I hope they at least look over the "old school" vows at some point in the process) You know, the old "for rich or poor, in good times or bad, in sickness and health." Because bad times and sickness are coming sooner than you expect, and they're probably not going to be your faults, and they sure as heck won't be fair, and they're going to come out of nowhere, but there they'll be. So that's why the older vows are so general. It's hard to vow to be a good spouse through months of bed rest, through the cashing in of the vacation spare change jar to pay a bill, through two a.m. runs to the ER with one of the boys, through emotionally abusive bosses, through hurricanes, and any number of other difficulties which will blind-side you at some point or other over just the next few years! So you just say "in good times and bad" and "in sickness and in health" and "for richer or poor," and that pretty much covers everything. :-)
But yes, back to my sister's wedding. I know I've mentioned here my theory that your capacity for...well, anything really...increases as your life unfolds, provided you are living a healthy emotional life. As you learn to love unselfishly, your capacity to love increases, and as that happens, so does your ability to share joy, and as that increases so too does your capacity for pain, etc. I think I worded this better last time. If not, I'll keep working on it until it makes sense. Anyway, my wedding day was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. But my marriage, my friendships, my children, my capacity at the church, these things have enhance my ability to feel the whole range of emotions. And on my sister's wedding day, seeing her so happy, standing at the event I'd been praying for for years, and feeling so convinced that the union is indeed blessed by the Almighty, plus having an inkling of the many unexpected ways God is going to turn their lives upside down and the unexpected joys they will share...I was really overwhelmed with happiness. I was probably happier than I was even at my own wedding, possibly even happier than the day my boys were born, because my marriage and my boys have helped make me a man who can be happier.
Geez, does that make any sense now that it's out of my head? I think this post has ended up being far longer and more convoluted than my initial attempts to adequately describe the joys of six years of marital bliss.
Okay, I'll just close with this. Really, this is the only important part of this blog anyway:
First, thanks and praise to God, who gives all good gifts, for not only giving me the gift of my wife but for giving us the strength and endurance to hang on to it through life's violent attempts to wrench it away from us.
Second, thanks to all of our friends and family members who have encouraged us, supported us, and prayed for us over the nearly ten years we've known one another (as well as the nearly twenty years we didn't know each other). You've cooked for us, taken care of kids for us, helped us out when we didn't have the money to make it, and provided much-needed light in times of darkness. I wish I could express exactly how much I love and appreciate each of you. (Great, now I have to write a post about how I can't write a post to tell you how much I love and appreciate each of you)
Third...actually, I think that covers just about anybody who will read this. Except, of course, for the lovely lady who changed my life by laughing at a lame joke on a bus on the road to Arkansas in the fall of 2001. I love you. Though hopefully you don't have to read a lame blog to know that.
No, that's not true. Actually, I didn't post because yesterday was Kim and I's sixth anniversary, and I was busy. A couple friends of ours came by to watch the boys so we could have our first night out since we went to the ballet about a month after Isaac was born. (If you're wondering exactly how long ago that was, the answer is way too freaking long) All things considered, we had a pretty low-key date, but then sometimes you don't feel like having a huge fancy expensive event. Sometimes you just want a good burger and a movie. We went to Pappas Burger (suggested slogan: We're Pretty Much Better Than Most Of Those Other Burger Places) and then to see Harry Potter 7.2, which somehow managed to be both pretty good and mildly disappointing at the same time.
Afterwards, I thought about sitting down to write some touching ruminations over the past six years of marriage. The longer I worked to put any such sentiment into words, however, the more convinced I became that it was more or less a lost cause. Marriage isn't really something that can be understood through mere words. Really, none of the most important things in life are. You can't understand the sense of triumph of a person who recovers from near-total paralysis feels the first time they walk across a room unless you've been somewhere similar. You can't truly empathize with the homeless unless you've spent an extended period not knowing where you'd next lay down your head. You're never prepared for the first time you hold your own child. No one else can understand the bond you share with the friend that scripture says "sticks closer than a brother." And so on and so forth.
Thus, six years of marriage. Why bother to try to tell how hard it's been, how great it's been, how fun, how frustrating? Those of you who have been there already know. Those of you haven't don't know yet. I look forward to the day you do, however. That doesn't mean you can't share in our joy. Far from it! Celebration and sorrow are meant to be contagious. Just because I haven't walked the path of your pain, that doesn't mean I won't hurt for you. Likewise, the fact that I have no adequate frame of reference for your joy, I fully intend to party like it's...well, okay, I won't go there for once. But you get the idea.
On the other hand, I could be really wrong here. It may just be that I'm not gifted enough with words to express my thoughts and emotions on such an event. (In other words: COP-OUT!) However, I've read enough passages--in scripture, in books, in plays, in CD lyric sleeves--that only really made sense to me after I had a particular life experience to think there's likely a principle at play here.
I recently attended my big sister's wedding. Toward the end of the day, I told her I didn't think I'd ever been happier than I was that day. She said, "Um, except maybe for your own wedding day?" I shook my head and said, "I was too young." That was the best I could explain it that night. Given some more time for reflection, I think I know what I was getting at. My wedding day was easily the happiest day of my life. Up to that point. But really, as prepared as we were, and as much prayer and thought and counseling as we had put into our three-plus-year relationship, I didn't really know what I was getting. I said the vows whole-heartedly, not realizing they'd become more profound and meaningful every time I'd hear them the rest of my life. I think I've come to prefer the "traditional" vows because they're often a more realistic depiction of what your life is going to be than the original vows couples usually write for one another. (Don't get me wrong, I love it when the bride and groom write vows for each other. It's always a great moment and a real tears-of-happiness moment in any wedding, but I hope they at least look over the "old school" vows at some point in the process) You know, the old "for rich or poor, in good times or bad, in sickness and health." Because bad times and sickness are coming sooner than you expect, and they're probably not going to be your faults, and they sure as heck won't be fair, and they're going to come out of nowhere, but there they'll be. So that's why the older vows are so general. It's hard to vow to be a good spouse through months of bed rest, through the cashing in of the vacation spare change jar to pay a bill, through two a.m. runs to the ER with one of the boys, through emotionally abusive bosses, through hurricanes, and any number of other difficulties which will blind-side you at some point or other over just the next few years! So you just say "in good times and bad" and "in sickness and in health" and "for richer or poor," and that pretty much covers everything. :-)
But yes, back to my sister's wedding. I know I've mentioned here my theory that your capacity for...well, anything really...increases as your life unfolds, provided you are living a healthy emotional life. As you learn to love unselfishly, your capacity to love increases, and as that happens, so does your ability to share joy, and as that increases so too does your capacity for pain, etc. I think I worded this better last time. If not, I'll keep working on it until it makes sense. Anyway, my wedding day was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. But my marriage, my friendships, my children, my capacity at the church, these things have enhance my ability to feel the whole range of emotions. And on my sister's wedding day, seeing her so happy, standing at the event I'd been praying for for years, and feeling so convinced that the union is indeed blessed by the Almighty, plus having an inkling of the many unexpected ways God is going to turn their lives upside down and the unexpected joys they will share...I was really overwhelmed with happiness. I was probably happier than I was even at my own wedding, possibly even happier than the day my boys were born, because my marriage and my boys have helped make me a man who can be happier.
Geez, does that make any sense now that it's out of my head? I think this post has ended up being far longer and more convoluted than my initial attempts to adequately describe the joys of six years of marital bliss.
Okay, I'll just close with this. Really, this is the only important part of this blog anyway:
First, thanks and praise to God, who gives all good gifts, for not only giving me the gift of my wife but for giving us the strength and endurance to hang on to it through life's violent attempts to wrench it away from us.
Second, thanks to all of our friends and family members who have encouraged us, supported us, and prayed for us over the nearly ten years we've known one another (as well as the nearly twenty years we didn't know each other). You've cooked for us, taken care of kids for us, helped us out when we didn't have the money to make it, and provided much-needed light in times of darkness. I wish I could express exactly how much I love and appreciate each of you. (Great, now I have to write a post about how I can't write a post to tell you how much I love and appreciate each of you)
Third...actually, I think that covers just about anybody who will read this. Except, of course, for the lovely lady who changed my life by laughing at a lame joke on a bus on the road to Arkansas in the fall of 2001. I love you. Though hopefully you don't have to read a lame blog to know that.
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