For the past couple of weeks, I have
been slammed with work and family. When I have been home and do get
to catch some news, it is in small fragments and my television
viewing has been rather limited to whatever I can squeeze in between
video-on-demand reruns of “Barney” and “Caillou”. Both of
those shows are my 33-month-old’s favorites and anyone with fairly
young children knows exactly to what I refer. When I do get to watch
television shows I like these days, I am holding a baby bottle to my
six-week-old’s mouth and hoping that I don’t encounter projective
spit up afterwards. Yes, life has been extremely hectic,
frustrating, often stretches my patience to the limits, I am grateful
for it all.
I guess that this is all part of
“cocooning”, as I call it. I ran across this to some extent when
we had our last child. The affairs of life and family keep parents
of young children busy. I don’t know if I am glad that I had to
wait until I was over 40 until my firstborn child came into the world
or not. I certainly have a different perspective on life and what is
important in my 40’s than I did in my 20’s. In some areas I find
myself infinitely more patient but in others still lacking. If there
is one thing that I have learned is that having children, especially
a toddler that is a Ritalin candidate, is that I am certainly only
human.
I shared with the pastor of a Garner
church recently only a fraction of what I had on my mind. I was
literally in tears at his father’s funeral, not because I knew his
dad well, but because he did. I lamented for his loss but also that
I could never have a conversation with my own father while growing up
and even into my adult life. He suffered a stroke while still
younger than I am now, and I was only a toddler. His fine motor
skills and some memory were affected, but his speech and temperament
suffered most of all. See, my pastor friend is the son of a pastor,
and had the good fortune of being able to get counsel from his dad on
pastoring and on life in general. If I ever wanted anything in my
youth, it was to be able to look to my own dad as a source of wisdom.
I would have traded anything to have been able to have had a normal
father-son conversation just once in my life.
For years, I vowed never to be like my
dad was in how he treated other people. When I find myself getting
angry and frustrated, I often reflect on how I was hollered and
cussed at incessantly and don’t want to be that way to my boys or
bride. With three boys in the house now, like I said, I am reminded
that I am only human. I don’t condone child abuse, but I
understand it. My dad was physically, emotionally, and spiritually
sick. I don’t condone the way he acted, but I understand it.
For years, I have collected books on
theology and history, hoping to share them and knowledge with my
progeny. I have also intended to sit and read many of the books I
have obtained. I used to be a voracious reader but have had little
free time in which to enjoy that simple thing in recent years. I
consider myself somewhat reasonably autodidactic, but I could always
stand to do more. Fortunately, I now have a somewhat decent
reference library for when I do need it. Hopefully some of the
investment I am trying to make into the next generation will be of
some avail.
I was never
raised with any real political or religious opinions in the home, but
I hope to change the course of instruction on those topics in my own
home. See, political and religious views were considered excessively
private. The name Jesus Christ was never used in a positive manner
in our house, and God had a last name that began with D. Other than
that, I was told nothing about politics but was angrily told that all
Catholic priests were homosexuals and that all television preachers
were just money grubbing scumbags. Now that I have been a born again
Christian for over twenty years, I tend to think the latter to be
more accurate than the former.
I chuckle at the comment about priests
for two reasons. First, I heard just within the past few days that
the homosexual brother of the man who told me that passed away at the
age of 80. I wish I could have been able to see Uncle Raymond again
before he died.
I have known a bunch of Catholic
priests over the years, and though I personally have doctrinal issues
with Catholicism, I have met some good priests and some bad ones.
Though there have been recent scandals in the Catholic Church over
the issue of child molestation, it reminds me that they, too, are
human. I certainly am not condoning their sin, but I understand
dealing with sin in one’s own life. That is the whole reason I
still need Jesus. I am, after all, only human.