A mid-hoc surmise I surmise will be of some encouragement to current and future fellow parents of teenagers: Our relationships with our teenage children, especially those of the same sex as us, are likely to go through an extended span of thinness. That is, it’ll seem there is no relationship, that we’re just a chauffeur and a cook and a money tree. But don’t panic. Don’t press to hard. You know what to do. Just keep doing that and be patient. The kids’ll come around.
Sullivan said yesterday that every conversation with me feels like an argument. That’s the sort of comment that prompts change in me, I hope!
“Since all his visits were beneficial, his step or holler through a doorway got a bright welcome“ (Toni Morrison, of her character Stamp Paid in Beloved).
I’m very rarely Stamp Paid with Sullivan. I need to change.
Éa: So when I was on my way home from the park, and old man and an old woman were walking on the path and they said, “Are you all by yourself?” So I told them, “Um, no my mom said my brother and I could go to the park and she’s just right over there,” and I pointed to my house.
Carla: But I didn’t know you were going to the park. You didn’t tell me.
Éa: I know. It was just the easiest way to get a worried old man and and old woman out of my way.
What could be better than co-ambulation with your mother?
— Scott, suggesting to Carla that she join Sullivan on a midday walk
One thing that pleases me—well, two: First, Mommy and Daddy snuggles. And second, rock dust on my hands.
— Sullivan
I enjoy watching my family do things I suspect other families do not but which I consider healthy. In this photo, all three of them are leaning out or about to lean out past the boardwalk rail in searching of jewelweed pods ready to pop.
It turns out the seeds are edible!
I am very proud to walk town with my children. Among several reasons that came to mind this evening, Éa insisted we take this photo of this 150-year-old magnolia tree planted by Fred Waring, the northernmost species of magnolia—because she loves her friend whose middle name is Magnolia.
I took an impromptu break from work late morning today to cuddle with Carla and tell her about the occasional pit in my stomach I’ve been feeling when ruminating on my doubts and when approaching the kids, or really about being wrong about anything. It was reassuring just to talk with her about it, to relate my fears and doubts to someone, and to hear in myself a commitment to endure in Christ-ward faith.
Walking is one of my favorite activities. That means this afternoon made my happy: I not only got to walk the sheep pastures with God and sing snippets of Delirious? numbers to Him, but also got to walk from Sunset Park to Pattee Library to Rec Hall and back—about one mile each way—with Sullivan and Éa, who enjoyed seeing the sights and climbing things as much as I enjoyed watching them enjoy them.
On our Saturday morning errands, feeling proudly countercultural, I suggested the kids walk ahead of me to Barnes & Noble while I returned spoons Carla had bought from Ross Dress for Less. Sullivan’s eyes widened with excitement at the prospect. So they did it, following the sidewalk as much as they could, as instructed.
In my perfect world, there would be sidewalks connecting Ross to Barnes & Noble, and it would not be extraordinary for a six-year-old to walk to a building three hundred feet away from his dad.
(The photos is from our walk back to the car together.)
After an evening with the Houserville Social Club that included a LifeFlight helicopter takeoff, new friends Janine & Kimberly joining us at the table, Wengyi signing up for the email list, a game of cups (frickets) played heartily with Carla, Lara, and the kids, then more dowel/disc/cup fun with just the kids, I find further peace in my current station. I am a:
- lover of God,
- husband,
- father,
- brother,
- son,
- dilettante,
- DiamondBack Truck Covers desk jockey,
- church member,
- neighbor,
- community organizer,
- someday adopter of children in need,
- helper of the cause of the Gospel in the Maldives,
- prayer warrior,
- and patient, skilled, act-ive lover of anyone who happens to be around me at any time, regardless of socioeconomic class, IQ, or other human differentiator.
The list above is enough of an identity and set of pursuits to satisfy this hungry-for-meaning soul. I need do no other “great” things. If I fulfill my roles above with all my might (the specific, mutable ones subject to Your redirection), I shall be happy, and I shall not blink on Judgment Day.
More importantly, I shall no longer be subject to judge-and-second-guess-myself day, which used to happen, like, every day of my life but now wanes in frequency until it shall soon disappear completely.
And as for my doubts and questions, whether You are a restrictivist, an inclusivist, a universalist, or even a religious figment, my life will be best lived if I live it as though You are completely real. My prayer is that my doubts have three effects: More sympathy, less dogma, especially toward my children, and more action, since faith-as-action is much more important than faith-as-specific-credence to Inclusivist Yahweh, and Restrictivist Yahweh seems to prefer action as well.
Carla: He looks like the beggar at the Beautiful Gate.
Éa: Who?
Scott: One of the people Jesus healed. One of many.
Éa: Killed?
Scott: HEALED.
Carla: And THAT. is why I don’t want our children to read Bible stories yet.
Scott: Sullivan, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about your reading habits.
Sullivan: You’ll never stop me.
Éa [from the other end of the house]: Mama! Watch this!
Carla: Honey, I’m cooking!
Éa: Mama watch this!
Carla: I can’t! I’m cooking right now!
Éa: Mama! Watch this! I can jump from the TOP!
Carla [walking quickly to the other end of the house]: Okay! You’ve got my interest!