The most significant thing that happened was that Sullivan and I finally managed to get the Yankee into the sky. It helps that I had to climb fifteen feet up into the first oak on the right side of the paved park path to retrieve the rocket after the launch.
We will both continue the hobby. That bodes well for our relationship. With Éa, I’ll always have music, but with Sully, I’ve been searching for a material thing to serve as a connecting point for us. May we be like that pair of clips on either side of the starter, side by side launching stuff into the sky.
Carla and I sat through our first foster care preservice training class session this evening. I wasn’t surprised by anything the CYS folks said. It was heartening and entertaining to hear from the guest lecturing Pollock family, who have six kids right now. Carla and I thought we disagreed about whether we could proceed, but further conversation revealed that we agree: While she is on Council, we will stick with respite foster care only. She thought I wasn’t even OK with that; I had forgotten respite was all she wants to do at the moment.
The only other notable thing, besides the gratis Smartfood popcorn bags we snagged for the kids’ lunches tomorrow, was that I think every one of the candidates, plus the Pollocks, are motivated by their faith in Jesus Christ.
I need not fear the prospect of my children deciding against following Christ. It may happen. But it should not cause fear, apprehension, or anxiety. Sadness, yes, but even that the sadness of someone who can’t share a specific joy with someone else, not the sadness of a man robbed of his heart and soul. I will still be Christ’s, and Christ will still be mine. And the Christ I know these days doesn’t bar people from eternal life on the basis of their professions of specific faith, anyway.
But if I do experience such emotions, as yesterday after Carla pointed out that I answered a question Sullivan had not asked (Sullivan: “I wish the Lundins came to our church.” Me: “Well, they don’t go to church. Tom doesn’t believe in God.” Sullivan: “Really? He doesn’t believe in God?”), I need not be ashamed of them. It’s my shame about those feelings that causes me to clam up and act out rather than speak plainly about them.
Another Saturday, another end-of-day ambivalence about how I spent my time: Today is the kind in which I wish I spent more time accomplishing things and less time socializing. Often it is the reverse.
A slight feeling of stomach-drop creeped into me this evening as Sullivan came out of his bedroom after bedtime to talk through the disappointment he was feeling about how his “splat ball” that he had earned during this “cookie dough” fundraiser at Lemont Elementary was only intact for about an hour and a half this afternoon before it burst or leaked or something. He had worked relatively hard to get that splat ball, and he was sad, either that he had abused the ball so as to break it, or that it was of such poor quality as to break so easily. Carla handled his disappointment with aplomb, as you might imagine.
What is this feeling? It’s like I fear he is not going to be able to handle his disappointment and thus somehow let them lead him to despair and religious doubt.
I also felt it last night when Éa offered at the end of A Picture Book of George Washington, where it mentions Washington’s death, that our first president is now alive again. I replied that some people think so, yes, in heaven, while other people think his soul is asleep, to be resurrected by God at the end of time. The fear here is that this will sound preposterous to her, and she’ll reject Christ because of it.
The feeling comes because in the face of death, disappointment, grief, and unanswered deep questions, I fear my children may, like many in this world, come to the conclusion that knowing God isn’t worth the mental effort, and that it’s much easier to simply believe that everything is random.
But that’s why I have my list. God, I trust You; help me in my lack of trust.
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.
A locus of my anxiety about my religious doubt is my children. I have previously been so sure of God that I never worried about passing my faith on to them; I had what was in my mind a 100% sure platform on which to stand and call to them to join me. The thought of not being able to pass on to them something I know is true makes my stomach drop.
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.
Carla and I parted ways for the evening after a noisy, meh-but-enjoyable “food fair” (glorified, overpriced kosher hot dog party) at Congregation Brit Shalom: She to a council meeting, the kids and I downtown for the tree lighting ceremony. We missed the actual lighting by literally three seconds but enjoyed the tree anyway, along with hot chocolate, popcorn, secular Christmas tunes, Animal Kingdom, the bathroom at Irving’s with Éa while Sullivan waiting in line with Lucy S-M & her mom, dancing on my shoulders, and Sullivan on Santa’s lap asking for mittens and a whole dinosaur skeleton for Christmas.
But the real pick of the day today is how much time I spent crafting simple HTML email signatures at work. Was it a waste of time? My desires said no, but perhaps it wasn’t the highest priority. Why do I let myself get carried away with trifles?
To further Sullivan’s penchant for architecture and craft, and at his request, we made paper airplanes today in my office for our date. We also did some tangrams right before bed—and he beat me in making the square.
— Éa, at the end of a bedtime conversation that started, “When you die, do you stop moving?” and included “I don’t want to die,” brief tears, and a “Don’t worry, Darling. We all die, but Jesus will bring us back to life again.” Carla pointed out that Éa will probably take that to mean that we “bounce back” to life immediately after dying. This was a terrifying conversation to have, because I don’t want to glib, but I don’t want to talk over her head, but I don’t want to mince the truth. God, You gave this girl to us. Help!
In other news, Carla won a seat on College Township Council today.
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!
My son, youre five,
And I’m so glad youre alive.
It’s worth a lot of mirth,
The day you came to Earth.
So Mom baked a shark-tastic cake
And planned a party for your sake
With piñata, food and skating today
and friends who gather round to say:
We love you very much, my boy.
MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE FULL OF JOY!
