This picture was taken at my sons’ favorite restaurant. It is called Burrito Express. Both boys enjoy the wonderful tortillas that are made on the spot. This restaurant is as close to Tex-Mex that we can get living in Rio Rancho. We are New Mexicans by choice, but the food from Texas will always be near and dear to our hearts.
Don’t let my 19 year old son’s face fool you. He had a good time in spite of my request to take a selfie. I am sure everyone remembers those incredibly awkward moments that you did something out of a sense of obligation. The expression on my son’s face says it all. “Dad, please. Taking this picture is not the highlight of my day.” While that may be so, the food was well worth it!
What I enjoyed, more than the food, was a chance to connect with my stinky sons. We sat and ate and laughed about ridiculous things. These are moments that I treasure beyond words, for they capture the unique camaraderie that I share with these two amazing men. I hope that this is a summer that they will look back on and smile as they remember that insane picture, the delicious food, and their insane dad, smiling with absolute joy over being blessed with small bursts of time with my amazing sons.
Today, I am grateful for my family, who constantly remind me that when life gets messy and stressful, they are there to be a place of comfort. I look at this picture and realize that I am very blessed. I could never have imagined that I would be the father of these guys, much less a husband (In December we will be married for 23 years) to the one who is truly the love of my life. Praise Be to God, indeed!
I could write about the wonderful class that I just finished at Austin Presbyterian Seminary, but then I would also have to write about the amazing friendships that I developed while I was in Austin. I could write about the incredible fact that my son is turning nineteen years old tomorrow, but then I would also have to write about the amazing gift of being a father. With so many amazing things going on around me, I think I can sum them all up in a simple little word; miraculous.
It is a herculean feat that I am even enrolled in a doctorate program. Boys with my demographic background are lucky to get a high school diploma. How blessed am I to not adhere to such low expectations. I serve a God that whispers incredible strength into my soul and says to me, “You are not finished! Continue to reach for heights beyond anything or anyone. I created in you a desire to live out your life, complete with passion and joy.”
And the friendships that I am developing at the Seminary…well, let’s just say that they are the kind that one hopes for throughout one’s life. These amazing people that have made it clear that I am loved unconditionally. Those words can be said, but when they are spoken with heart and truth, they are game changers. It is indeed what I call miraculous.
Then there is my son, that is one of the greatest gifts (my youngest son included) that I could have ever been given. He is an amazing young man with incredible amounts of talents. I never knew how to identify a miracle in my life, until I saw his face. That incredible face, that looked on me immediately, and I knew that I was standing in the presence of a divine gift from God himself. How blessed I am to have this one human being change my life in ways that I could have never imagined. And it all took one little word; daddy.
Today, I am humbled to see the miraculous all around me. I see it in my family, my friends, my calling into ministry. Praise be to God who continues to mold me and places signs and miracles all around me to remind me that I call someone mein vati. My daddy.
Most days I go about my business and get caught up in the routine of my schedule. Now don’t get me wrong. My activities throughout the day are anything but routine. Most days I have to roll with the flow. I am talking about routine being how long I am away from home, when things are due for bulletins and newsletters, the time for visitations. These are the things that happen every week.
Then there days like this one, when I am hit over the head with a sudden awareness of how much someone means to me. I am talking about my big stinky boy. The one who will be 19 in June. As a parent, I want nothing more than his happiness. I will move heaven and earth to help him find the thing that brings him joy.
When he came into the world I remember holding him in my arms. He was screaming like crazy. I started singing a song that I sang to Cazandra’s belly just about every day she was pregnant. Immediately, when he heard my voice he stopped crying and started looking around the room. I will never forget that moment. It still takes my breath away. I felt a connection to another person like I had never had before that second. Looking around the room at Cazandra and then Julian I knew that I was blessed beyond all measure. Praise be to God that even someone like me could know absolute joy!
Whatever it was that took me back to that moment in the hospital today, I am grateful to remember my son’s presence in my life. I pray that he becomes the person that he was created to be and live into the passions that were planted deep within his soul. I hope that he will always know that there is a divine presence in his life that will always be his source of strength and hope. I thank him for the many lessons that he taught me about what it truly means to become a man.
Today, I thank God for the ability to stamp a moment in time in my spirit; to remind me of my most incredible moments of awareness when the Holy Spirit speaks brilliantly into my life. I am grateful that I still want to add a little phrase to Psalm 139:14, “I give thanks to you that I was marvelously set apart” (CEB). The phrase I want to add is this, “But look at my boy!”
I ask you, today for whom are you the most grateful? Share with them right now. Let them know how important they are. Let them know that they matter.
It is hard to believe that tomorrow my mother will be gone for three years. I find myself thinking about her as the anniversary of her death draws closer. I miss the laughs, smiles, tears, arguments, etc. I miss it all. Those that knew her know what I’m talking about.
I think the most amazing thing that I miss is the security that I had knowing that she was just a phone call away. I never had a problem that was too big for my mother to help. Her voice is gone and I miss it deeply. Even after three years, I miss it now more than ever before.
So, it is with a sense of loss that I had a fantastic dream. In my dream, I was in a desolate area and a pay phone started ringing. I answered the phone and it was my mom on the other end. I started to cry and told her that I missed her. Getting myself together, I asked her, “What’s it like?”
She responded, “Do you remember the prettiest city that we ever visited?” I told her that I remembered.
She then said, “It is so much prettier.” I knew then that she could not leave and that she wanted to stay. The dream ended with me telling her that I loved her.
No matter how incredible the descriptions are in the Bible, we can never know the beauty that awaits us. Our own imagination is limited by our humanity. Every now and then we have wonderful glimpses into what is to come. And we know that at the end, we will be united with our loved ones and proclaim in unison, “It is so much prettier!”
As I reflect back on my stinky boy’s journey through the long hospital stays and the incredibly large amounts of time traveling back and forth to and from our home, I remember the one thing that seemed to be missing. It was my son’s spirit. He is quick and joyful and full of wonderful amounts of energy. It is impossible to keep up with him.
As the hospital stays got longer I saw that amazing spirit disappear. I did just about everything I could to bring it back. It took time and it took being a cheerleader to keep that energy present. We played games. We talked. We moved heaven and earth to maintain his joy.
We are far removed from those horribly rough times. I have seen the return of the old spirit that my son fearlessly shares. I have seen a joy return that has been missing for quite a while. He is happy and very glad to be where he is right now. He indeed gives thanks for the journey.
As a parent watching and sharing in this journey, I am amazed at the many life lessons that this incredibly boy of mine continues to teach me. I learned from him that the worst possible things can happen, but that little seed of faith that is in the core of who we are can be ignited to bring us comfort during the hard times. Just because the journey becomes hard does not mean that our travels are not worth the effort. We must continue to stay strong and to keep moving forward in spite of the obstacles that seem to stand in our way.
So, today I give thanks for my amazing son who teaches me the greatest of life’s lessons every day. I am grateful that even at my age I am learning the biggest lessons from an eight year old. Praise be to God for him and for the one who fills my soul with so much gratitude that the only thing I can do is to stand and shout, “Hallelujah!”
I am reflecting back on the journey my family and I have taken over the course of the year. My youngest son spent almost every holiday between October thru February in the hospital. I helplessly stood by and watched my son lose the ability to walk. He was suffering from an internal bleed that occurred right in the knee joint. As the bleed progressed he lost mobility in his right leg. He could not extend his leg fully and the bleeding continued for almost four months.
Hemophilia has reared its ugly head in our family many more times than I care to admit. At times living with the effects of a bleeding disorder takes a toll on one’s psyche. For me as the caregiver it is sometimes overwhelming. I can’t imagine how my son must feel.
Last week my stinky boy and I went to the ice rink near my home. He wanted to go with me to see me skate. I enjoyed seeing him sit in the stands. This was a part of my life that I had not shared with him. The ice actually is my solitude.
As I was leaving the ice my son said to me, “Daddy, I wish I could skate.” It never occurred to me that he would want to join me. I quickly grabbled around for the right words to say to him. I said, “Son, I will teach you how to skate.” As I listened to the words come out of my mouth I realized that all I have to offer my amazing boy are words of assurance. Sometimes a quick message of hope is all that we can bring to the table in the toughest of times. These mighty words filled with confidence and a promise that things will not stay the same.
I give thanks today that we are at a new point in our treatment. Knock on wood, my son has not had a bleed since February. With the help of a good physical therapist he is beginning to walk again. It is our hope that he will not depend on a wheelchair in the very near future. We will look back on this season of struggle and give thanks for the lessons that we have learned through these difficult times.
I will teach him to skate. I will also teach him many other things reserved for dads and sons. I will continue to be his biggest cheerleader; his biggest advocate. I will…
Recently I was sharing a story about the time that Cazandra told me that we were going to have our first child. I related the story to a fellow staff member at my church. As I shared with her the story of how I told my mom about this new journey that we would begin together, I felt overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.
I was taken aback by how I was feeling in retelling that story. What caused me to connect so profoundly to the announcement of my son’s impending birth? Was there something that I had not recognized about the dramatic changes that my life was about to experience? Why now? Why so emotional after all these years? He wasn’t born yesterday. His eighteenth birthday is still a few months away. Maybe the realization that he will be an adult is leading to a heighten feeling of nostalgia regarding his life.
Perhaps it could have been a quick moment to remember my mother. I know that she loved my children well and was a fantastic grandmother to boot. Maybe my emotional response came from a place of sadness as life goes on without my mother’s physical presence. Her silence speaks loudly into my life. One of the most important places in which she speaks is her absence in my children’s lives as they will not be able to build new memories with their “Granny.” I know my mom still lives on in spirit, and I know that the joy and love that I share for my son are interwoven with the love that I have for my mother.
And as for me, I went back to my office and gave a prayer of thanksgiving for that big stinky boy that I have been honored to raise. I gave thanks for his presence in my life and will continue to thank my God for this particular person that I call my son. His talents are great and his heart is even greater.
There are people, places or things that connect us to the most intimate part of ourselves. The part that reflects upon the greatness of God. My son is the reminder of the Divine love that I have in my heart and the overwhelming gratitude to God for being trusted to raise him. I try to make sense of how I was qualified to raise a child and I must say that I agree with the Psalmist when he says, “That kind of knowledge is too much for me; it’s so high above me that I can’t fathom it” (Psalm 139:6 CBE). Whatever the reason may be, I am eternally grateful.
And as far as the picture, this is him in his element: His love of the theater shines through his eyes despite the green makeup. He played the title role in Shrek at his high school. His voice is so much better than mine. He has a nice beautiful tone that just flows naturally from his mouth.
To watch him on stage is pure joy. I am so glad that he is able to follow his passion. Onstage Mr. MacDonald is fearless. There is no doubt where he should be. How blessed am I to watch my child delight in his calling.
Today I am filled with gratitude for the love that is now and for the love that I have had. I eagerly look forward to the future and the amazing things that await my son as he continues to astound me along this journey.