tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34497885327420318642024-03-05T02:57:08.838-05:00Running In the Yard Next DoorLa-la, how the life goes on. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.comBlogger317125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-39656204800386400942021-12-04T22:19:00.001-05:002022-01-19T13:52:21.461-05:00A Story. . .<p> . . . About Jenn's brother. For purposes of this story, let's call him Rob.</p><p>Rob is 2 years younger than Jenn. In recent years, his health hasn't been good. It hurts him to walk, so he doesn't walk much. He's overweight, and short of breath most of the time.</p><p>Rob's wife died in January of '20, and has lived by himself since then. Understandably, he feels lonely a lot, and we do what we can to keep him in touch from 2 hours away.</p><p>Last Thanksgiving (2020), Rob called us a few days before the holiday, and told us that he wanted to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. If you recall, last Thanksgiving virtually our entire family had COVID, and Thanksgiving dinner was basically part of our quarantine, since all of us were sick at the same time. We told Rob that he shouldn't come, that we all had the dreaded virus, and we didn't want him to get sick, since he was kind-of a poster boy for the category 'HIGH RISK'. Rob said no, he was going to come, and expected to join us for dinner. We reiterated that we didn't want him to come, but we never could dissuade him.</p><p>Thanksgiving morning came, and, about an hour before dinnertime, sure enough, Rob's car pulled up in front of our house, and he hobbled up to our door, toting a bag full of pies.</p><p>"I brought five pies with me, and I'm not gonna eat 'em by myself!" he exclaimed.</p><p>We sighed and invited him in. If he was that determined to have dinner with us, what we we gonna do? So we gave him a spot at the table.</p><p>We had a good dinner, and a few hours later, he got in his car and went home.</p><p>Every day for the next couple weeks, we waited to hear from him, or another family member, informing us that he was down with COVID and would be dying soon. We even speculated that, living alone after his wife's death, he was effectively killing himself, and wanted to spend time with loved ones at the end of his life.</p><p>But the call never came.</p><p>Finally, after a couple weeks (while she was still in the hospital), Jenn called to check up on him.</p><p>"How are you?"</p><p>"Great! I'm fine!"</p><p>"You were in our house when we all had COVID. . ."</p><p>"Nope! I'm good!"</p><p>We checked back in with him a few more times, but he never did get sick.</p><p>The whole situation was perplexing to us, and we kept trying to figure out how it was possible that, high-risk as he was, he came into our house and sat at our table while we were all still sick, and never showed the slightest symptom.</p><p>Then it occurred to us. . . His wife had died in January of '20. A couple months before the lockdown. COVID wasn't front-page news yet. We saw photos from China, and still hoped it might not come to us. But if anything, Rob's wife was even higher-risk than he was. She was only in her late 40s, but she had MS, and maybe a couple other things besides. Her death was very sudden - one day, she had trouble breathing, and within a couple days, she was gone. Suddenly, it became clear - Rob's wife had died of COVID, even before any of us was really aware of it. And he had been exposed to her - hard. I don't know what symptoms, if any, he experienced at the time, but it seemed clear that he had breathed plenty of mask-less, non-socially-distanced COVID-air while he took care of his wife in her final days. And so, when he came to our house for Thanksgiving, he had a body full of COVID antibodies, even 10+ months after his wife's death, and whatever exposure he had at our house was quickly dispatched.</p><p>-------------------------</p><p>And so, the punch line. . . Natural Immunity is real, and robust. Instead of calling us un-vaccinated and part of the problem, we COVID survivors are a key component of the end of the pandemic. . .</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-1637370290678365052021-09-12T12:56:00.035-04:002021-12-04T21:23:59.108-05:00Science Marches On. . .<p> <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2021/08/having-sars-cov-2-once-confers-much-greater-immunity-vaccine-no-infection-parties&source=gmail&ust=1631550827278000&usg=AFQjCNFVZHGvjr4CYLESQHCG4GKICQcNZQ" fg_scanned="1" href="https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2021/08/having-sars-cov-2-once-confers-much-greater-immunity-vaccine-no-infection-parties" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" target="_blank">https://www.sciencemag.org/<wbr></wbr>news/2021/08/having-sars-cov-<wbr></wbr>2-once-confers-much-greater-<wbr></wbr>immunity-vaccine-no-infection-<wbr></wbr>parties</a></p><p>-------------------------</p><p>Just for the sake of saying so,<i> Science </i>Magazine is not a lightweight journal, and it is very far from any kind of 'conservative' political bias. . .</p><p>To state things clearly - "people who once had a SARS-CoV-2 infection [are] much less likely than never-infected, vaccinated people to get Delta, develop symptoms from it, or become hospitalized with serious COVID-19." And, just to be clear, "they caution that intentional infection among unvaccinated people would be extremely risky." So, no 'infection parties', please. . .</p><p>The article notes that a single-dose 'booster given to previously-infected persons reduces their risk even further, but, from the start, 'natural immunity' confers more robust resistance to future infection, and for a longer time, than does vaccination of never-infected persons.</p><p>Which is what I was saying a couple months ago.</p><p>-------------------------</p><p>The thing I don't understand is that, judging from public rhetoric, 'natural immunity' either doesn't exist or isn't worth talking about. There are only 'The Vaccinated' and 'The Unvaccinated'. People like me are counted among The Unvaccinated, when we actually have superior immunity to that conferred by vaccination. We 'Survivors' should be counted among 'The Immunized', whether that immunity came from the natural response of our bodies to infection, or from a vaccine. But there seems to be a very stubborn resistance to that very basic scientific truth, and I have no idea why. . .</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-44421198897333455802021-08-27T12:09:00.001-04:002021-08-27T12:09:30.548-04:00Be Safe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSBAVbI-5YQdz7hgiaZdNQvLAPClNr8TKe_0GWZXpngT-21PP10AGDzzXOG-m6J0c2cKux7KC4wmO4fpdJiYHiA143srYevDl6O7bjOteZp9lf2Ilpgr93Gjl0UQoG7ljvcIz_JPgA-va/s959/safety.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="959" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSBAVbI-5YQdz7hgiaZdNQvLAPClNr8TKe_0GWZXpngT-21PP10AGDzzXOG-m6J0c2cKux7KC4wmO4fpdJiYHiA143srYevDl6O7bjOteZp9lf2Ilpgr93Gjl0UQoG7ljvcIz_JPgA-va/s320/safety.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-65960575272890194742021-06-09T14:49:00.002-04:002021-06-09T14:53:55.508-04:00Follow the Science. . .<p> A brief note for my well-intentioned friends who are ever-so-solicitous of my health and well-being (and who aren't, to my knowledge, among my regular readers). . .</p><p>The reason people get vaccinated is to induce their bodies to produce the antibodies which will fight off the disease, and (hopefully) prevent the disease from taking hold in the patient's body. By whatever means, high-tech or otherwise, a replica of the actual virus is introduced into the patient's body, so the patient's immune system will respond, producing antibodies to fight off the replicated virus, which will (hopefully) be sufficient to fight off the actual virus, should it come to take up residence in the patient's body. So - the vaccine is all about the antibodies. Clear?</p><p>Now, if my body already has the requisite antibodies, I don't need a vaccine to induce my body to produce them. And the antibodies which are circulating through my bloodstream were produced by contact with the actual virus, not a replica of it. So, I maintain that my situation is no worse, and quite likely better, than if I'd been vaccinated.</p><p>In 'political' terms (and you all know just how very much I love talking about politics), when those in charge go about counting who is and who isn't immunized, I maintain that natural immunity should count at least as much as (and probably more than) immunity induced by a vaccine.</p><p>Please don't misunderstand - I'm not telling anyone else what s/he should or shouldn't do with regard to being vaccinated, and I have no quarrel with anyone who has been vaccinated, especially if they haven't had the virus; I'm emphatically NOT anti-vax. But if I've had the virus, I have the antibodies, and vaccination is superfluous. It's like getting a flu shot after you've had the flu.</p><p>So, my very earnest friends, I'm touched by your very deep concern and solicitude for my health and well-being, I really am. But honestly - I'm good.</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-45723671333021372182021-05-19T11:44:00.000-04:002022-08-11T11:16:05.795-04:00Gratitude, Again (and Always)<p>I'm not saying anything non-obvious by telling you that I haven't posted much, of late; which. . . it is what it is. . .</p><p>For those of you wondering how we are - we are well. Jenn is fully recovered from her erstwhile brush with mortality. We are both fully retired now, which is nice. We have added three new grandchildren in the last couple months, bringing the 'official' count to 12, and giving us some delightful ways to keep our retired selves engaged (and, at least in my case, out of trouble).</p><p>As life in OurTown begins to emerge from its viral cocoon, I am struck again by what has been a recurring theme in my life - Gratitude. Gratitude for the goodness of life, gratitude for the web of family and friendship connections that make my life rich and meaningful (and which are, in their own ways, emerging from a year's disruption), gratitude for daily provision (retirement is kind of a hoot - at somewhat regular intervals, money magically appears in my bank account), and for a future full of hope.</p><p>In that vein, I'm re-posting a pair of my better old posts (at least, I think they're not too bad) <i>(Beatle-lyrics-reference alert!)</i> for your edification and enjoyment.</p><p>God Bless You All. . .</p><br />*************************<br /><br />Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, <i>The Imitation of Christ</i> (in the original Latin, <i>Imitatio Christi</i>), which in the fullness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of my own all-time favorite books.<br /><br />The <i>Imitation</i> reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into my 'Book of Favorite Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends, is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:<br /><br /><span style="color: #990000;">"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."</span><br /><br />I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Jenn and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.<br /><br />On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works, on multiple levels. . .<br /><br />As most of you know, I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy', once upon a time. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met, taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Jenn and I got married and began having our own children (1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me), and all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.<br /><br />My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude. I'm grateful to her for giving me life, and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me. And she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals (shocking as this may seem to you, I know), and there could be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined. But from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.<br /><br />And likewise in my marriage. I'm so grateful to Jenn for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks (and yes, alas, she has one or two) just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know it works the same way from her end. It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm just not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings' <i>(Beatle-lyrics-reference alert!)</i>, just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is) (but let me be clear - it is a most excellent gift), brings deep joy to my whole life. I'm certainly not meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe we've learned something really good and valuable. . .<br /><br />-------------------------<div><br />The conviction has grown within me, over the years, that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, certainly, and most fundamentally. But even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.<br /><br />Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy and meaning to our lives.<br /><br />Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my blog-friends, however briefly, to give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .</div>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-32111073498094718252021-03-04T10:35:00.001-05:002021-03-04T10:35:30.279-05:00Getting Down to Fundamentals. . . <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiiN70mv2iP9hvkb-LchMkLbU6gM21WbgujxFAd4TMyHj0LYBcKBUZfjEj2Ga1nAxQfQ3PJdcAvcRqlB99AvTRGCKURDqp1dJbIIaYYyt9fu0DicmuOT6Iz3PBdRfXnWBbAUfO8Xe1_-d/s800/bathroom_doors1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="800" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiiN70mv2iP9hvkb-LchMkLbU6gM21WbgujxFAd4TMyHj0LYBcKBUZfjEj2Ga1nAxQfQ3PJdcAvcRqlB99AvTRGCKURDqp1dJbIIaYYyt9fu0DicmuOT6Iz3PBdRfXnWBbAUfO8Xe1_-d/w376-h235/bathroom_doors1.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-43267973998693060112020-12-20T12:43:00.004-05:002020-12-20T12:45:37.584-05:00Back Home. . .<p> Jenn came home yesterday.</p><p>Thank you all for your prayers. She is about 90% of her normal ways. She has basically had no exercise for a month, so even getting up to use the bathroom at night was exhausting. But it was nice to feel her warmth next to me in bed. And I'm sure that just being in the bosom of her family's love will go a long way toward completing her healing.</p><p>We were talking yesterday, and it seems clear that this has been, by far, the longest we have been apart in 40+ years of marriage. Back when I was volunteering at Summer Camp every summer, that was eight days at a time. A couple times, I went to visit my Mom in California by myself, for maybe a bit less than a week. But this was 17 days; and we were less than a mile apart.</p><p>The road ahead is still a long one. She'll be receiving IV antibiotics at home for another three weeks, and then checking back in for another set of X-rays, etc. while she rebuilds her strength and stamina.</p><p>But, My Beloved is home. I can't begin to tell you how good it is to have her back.</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-82609232328386184342020-12-15T10:26:00.001-05:002020-12-15T10:26:19.671-05:00The Saga Continues. . .<p> Sorry I haven't kept you all up to date. I keep waiting for a convenient 'break in the action' at which to put things down in electrons, but there's nothing 'convenient' about this. . .</p><p>On Wednesday, December 2 (the day after my last post), I took Jenn to the ER. A little backstory - I, and our kids, were all surprised that Jenn was hit so hard by the virus, whereas I, who have been much less robustly healthy than Jenn over the years, had a pretty mild experience of it. Of all the possible reasons for this discrepancy, we noted that I have been loading up on vitamins and supplements since before the pandemic appeared. So, I started giving Jenn the same vitamins and supplements that I was taking, figuring that, at the very least, they'd help moderate the effects of the virus. But her condition didn't seem to change, and she even spiked a fever, which she hadn't done for the first week's worth of symptoms. On the 2nd, she woke up at 4:30 AM with an extended coughing fit. At that point, the realization dawned on me that what we were doing wasn't working, so I bundled her off to the ER. They swept her away for her intake eval, and they shooed me home (I should note that Jenn packed her cell phone and charger in her purse as we were preparing to leave; good thought, that).</p><p>For the first few days, communication was confusing. She texted me that it was a good thing that I took her in when I did (seems like the disease is going badly), but then also that she was feeling better (seems like things are improving). I talked with her virtually daily, and her spirits were good, her cough seemed to be improving, and she was talking about coming home soon. Yay! Score One for the Good Guys!</p><p>Then on Tuesday the 8th (six days after I took her in), she sent a text saying that she finally had a definite diagnosis - she had the COVID, for sure, but she also had a bad case of bacterial pneumonia and sepsis. What the hell? Sepsis?!? That's scary as hell. . . and it took them SIX DAYS to figure it out? Well, no; not really. Turns out, she had coded for sepsis and pneumonia in her initial intake eval, six days previous, but hadn't bothered to tell that to Jenn - OR ME - for almost a week. I mean, sure, I'm only her husband, her Durable Power of Attorney, and the one who stands to be widowed if she dies. So, it's understandable that they wouldn't feel the need to communicate those things to me (that was sarcasm, just to be clear). So I had a very anxious couple of days. When I talked to her on Thursday, she felt much better. The COVID and the sepsis were gone from her body (God is good!), and the pneumonia was on the run. She was talking about coming home Saturday (the 12th). On Friday, they were cutting the papers to release her on Saturday, but Friday night, her pain suddenly worsened, and by Saturday noon, it was clear that she wasn't coming home just yet.</p><p>Sunday, they did a CAT scan and discovered a sac on fluid on her lung, which was basically the last remnant of the pneumonia, maybe 3-4 inches long and an inch wide. They weighed their options, including possibly poking a tube into the sac to drain it. In the end, they decided to switch to a different antibiotic, and see what happens. When I spoke to her yesterday, her fever was gone, the pain had decreased to the point that she was declining pain-killers (which just means that the pain was manageable, not that it was gone), and her voice was as clear and strong as I'd heard it in weeks. So it seems a corner is being turned. But having heard twice already that she'd be coming home soon, I won't believe it until they wheel her up alongside my car, she gets in, and we drive away. Hopefully, that will happen soon, but at this point, I just want her to get well.</p><p>When she does come home, she will still be recuperating for an unspecified length of time, so Christmas stands to be pretty low-key, even if she's home. And my job, once she's home, will be mainly to manage the chaos level in the house, what with three of our kids, and two grandchildren, living under our roof.</p><p>A couple thoughts - our family's experience of the killer virus was mainly pretty benign, except for Jenn. And her situation seems to have been more about bacteria that she picked up out of the air, than the dreaded COVID itself (6F's husband had a similar experience - he somehow picked up pneumonia along with his order of COVID, so his recovery was more arduous than everyone else's). I don't know if COVID makes you more vulnerable to stuff like pneumonia and sepsis, but hose of us who only had COVID to deal with, experienced it as something between a heavy cold and a mild flu.</p><p>I have not been happy with the communication I've gotten from the hospital (essentially, none at all). You don't want me up in your COVID isolation ward; OK. Even though I survived the virus and have the antibodies; I won't infect you, and you won't infect me; seems overly cautious, especially when me just being able to see and touch her would do us both a lot of good. Plus, the aforementioned spousal status, Durable Power of Attorney, and all that. At one point, Jenn told me that the chief nurse was going to call me; great! Let me talk to an honest-to-goodness medical person. Then I got a text stating that the nurse didn't want to get any of the details wrong, and so she had asked the pulmonologist to call me himself. Of course, you know, that call never came. Mind you, I'm not questioning the competency of the medical/nursing staff; Jenn has nothing but the highest praise for the care she has received. But the 'lockdown' status of the COVID ward seems to provide cover for saying nothing to other family members. If she weren't 'locked down', I would be there, the docs could answer my questions, and we'd all be happy. At least, I'd know what's going on, instead of getting texts from Jenn that become obsolete 3 seconds after they're sent.</p><p>On a deeper, 'existential' level, I've had to look square in the face of the possibility that my wife could die (and she assuredly will, someday). We just celebrated our 40th anniversary this past summer, and this hospital thing has made clearer than ever that we have no guarantees. I never expected that she could die before I do - she's just a healthier person than I am - but damn, you know, she could. There's a part of me that's a little panicked by that thought, but you know, I do trust in God, and I've got plenty of people who love me, who would help me find my footing in a world without Jenn (which. . . may it never happen). This whole thing just brings mortality and all that's attached to it, front-and-center in my consciousness. Which has been happening more and more in the 3+ years since I had a stroke (which itself turned out to be blessedly mild). As someone said (a song lyric, maybe?) - No One Gets Outta Here Alive. As you get older, dealing with that simple, brute fact becomes an increasingly urgent task. . .</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-57527942476738128792020-12-01T09:34:00.004-05:002020-12-03T09:46:41.869-05:00Sharing the Experience. . .<p> Our family has, for most of this year, cruised through the COVID-infested waters of life in Michigan/USA, without any of us getting infected.</p><p>No more.</p><p>Back the week before Thanksgiving, our doctor's office was sending us multiple messages of one sort or another, urging us to get a flu shot. Now, for many years, I didn't get flu shots, but in recent years (roughly since I turned 60) I've started getting them, reasoning that the mild case I get from the vaccination could save me from the real thing, which becomes more dangerous the older I get. So, I dutifully reported to my doctor's office on Tuesday afternoon the 17th of November, and got my flu shot. Sure enough, the next day, Wednesday, I felt 'punky' as I often have after a flu shot; likewise Thursday. Friday, I felt great, and figured I was on my way. Saturday, I felt bad - body aches, a wet cough, and general fatigue. I didn't have a fever, and I could still taste and smell, so I tentatively ruled out the COVID and resolved to get some rest. Sunday, I felt worse; same symptoms, just worse.</p><p>Monday, I was feeling a little bit better - not well, by any means, but better. But Jenn was complaining of the same symptoms I had - body aches, wet cough, and general fatigue. That Monday before Thanksgiving, we also received the news that 6F and her husband had been tested for COVID. At first, there was some confusion as to what the results were - her husband had pneumonia, and at first, that came across as he didn't have COVID, but when everything was clarified, they both had COVID. Now, this was not happy news, because they had been at our house for several hours, several days/week, for the previous couple months.</p><p>Also that Monday, 3M (who has been living with us since August; long story) found out that he had been exposed at work. He works for a reconstruction company, and they were working on a job involving a backed-up sewer. Turns out the homeowner's wife had COVID, but he decided to conceal that fact from the company, not wanting to delay getting the shit cleaned out of his basement. So Monday was not a good day at our house.</p><p>I was feeling incrementally better day by day, but it became apparent that Jenn was getting hammered. She basically didn't get out of bed for 5 days, except for Thanksgiving. We had originally planned on having 12 for Thanksgiving dinner, but when we called our putative guests to inform them of our status, they pretty much all backed out politely, so we ended up with 7 for dinner, all but one of whom already lived under our roof. Jenn was completely blasted, and I was still less-than-fully recovered, so Thanksgiving, in the final analysis, kinda sucked.</p><p>Jenn went and got tested the Friday after Thanksgiving; she has a couple situations working for folks who would really need to know whether she has the COVID or not. And meanwhile, she was getting hammered by whatever-it-was. She has always been a robustly healthy person, and we both just assumed that, if COVID came to our house, I would be in much worse trouble than she would. But she just spent hour after hour in bed, moaning through her lousiness. While, by this past weekend, I was feeling about 85% 'normal'.</p><p>So yesterday, Jenn got her test results back - positive. Which means that I had it, too, since she got it from me. Woo-hoo! Also yesterday, 7M and his wife, who live in our basement apartment (but who weren't at our Thanksgiving dinner) also got positive tests back. So now, everyone under our roof, except 8M and our 6-year-old grandson, has either a positive test or an outside exposure (and of course, even they are exposed several times over just for living here).</p><p>I guess, all things considered, I'm just as happy to have gotten the COVID, given how relatively benign my experience was - somewhere between a heavy cold and a mild flu. Jenn might disagree, although she is finally getting to the 'feeling-incrementally-better-every-day' stage. But, given where she started from, 'a little bit better' can still feel pretty cruddy. At least, she is identifiably on the mend.</p><p>So that's our experience. Most of the younger folks are feeling kinda yucky, but they're already kicking it (6F's husband, with the complication of pneumonia, is having a rougher time, but he's mending)</p><p>So that's what we've been up to the last couple weeks. Hope you all had a warmly blessed Thanksgiving. . .</p>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-81784874844678287152020-07-04T06:24:00.014-04:002020-07-04T06:24:00.212-04:00Two Things I Know For Certain. . .. . . about every human being who has ever lived, myself included (and all of you who are reading this), no matter their 'gender', race, religion, age, ethnicity, national origin, sexual preference or any other thing incidental to the fundamental fact of their humanity:<br />
<br /><font color="#b51200">
1) They are a person made in the Image and Likeness of God, and therefore, possessors of an intrinsic dignity and worth not conferred on them (and thus irrevocable) by any other human being, and<br />
<br />
2) They are a sinner in desperate need of God's mercy.<br /></font>
<br />
It has long seemed to me that most, if not all, of the cultural/political quarrels of our day stem from emphasizing one or the other of these truths at the expense of the other, preferring to see their fellow-citizens (and themselves) as either only god-like, or only depraved. And that those who agree with them are especially god-like, and those who disagree with them are wicked fools.<div><br /></div><div>But the Christian knows (and I would submit that empirical evidence suggests) that he and his fellow-humans are neither all one, nor all the other, but both at once, holding these seemingly contradictory truths in tension. As Solzhenitsyn said, "the line between good and evil runs through the middle of every human heart. . ."</div>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-965300678423558272020-06-11T11:08:00.000-04:002020-06-11T11:08:09.173-04:00Consider. . .<span style="color: #999999;">This is a brief excerpt (very lightly edited) from an article by a priest of my acquaintance (not my parish priest), which captures, in a kinder way than I might be inclined to, a lot of my thinking. . .</span><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">"I worry that we become so wrapped up in our opinions and ideas that we tie them to our identity. So, any time someone disagrees with us, we get wildly angry because we've lost track of the fact that they are <i>disagreeing</i> with us, not attacking our value or worth.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">"I also worry that we allow ourselves to be very useful tools for political parties. Politicians spend a lot of time and money fighting each other and trying to get us to fight for them. They convince us that 'those people' are the enemy. I have friends with whom I completely disagree on politics, but I know that they love our country and want it to be a better place; we simply disagree on how it should be accomplished. I urge us all to <b><u>consider whether we allow people who don't care about us to convince us to hate those who do</u></b>."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;"> - Father Joe Krupp</span>Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-36147787572338839932020-04-07T14:34:00.000-04:002020-04-07T14:43:20.813-04:00We Are Born to Die. . .The virus is raging, especially here in Michigan, which ranks third among states in the US in COVID cases (but only tenth in population). The thing is, Detroit is getting hammered, and the farther you get from Detroit, the less bad it gets. Just to set perspective, the City of Detroit has a rate of 85 COVID cases per 10,000 population (about one in 120 people); the three counties of the metro area (not including the city itself) are between 25-30. Two other counties adjacent to the metro area are at about 15. Other 'urban-ish' counties within 100 miles or so of Detroit (including the one I live in) are at 6-7 cases per 10,000 population (about 1 in 1500). The rest of the state is 2 or less. . .<br />
<br />
We have friends who live in Detroit; the wife/mom is a nurse, and daughter of good, long-standing friends of ours. Their whole family came down with the virus, and their next-door neighbor died of it. They are all recovered now, or well on the way to recovery. For them, it was like a not-too-nasty flu. Obviously, for their neighbor, it was considerably more than that.<br />
<br />
Watching the numbers, it looks like we are at or just past the peak of the pandemic. Which, of course, is the exact wrong time to relax. No one wants to be the last soldier to die in the war. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
It is perhaps ironic, but these recent weeks have brought a lot of death into my life. A man who filled a significant 'mentor' role in my life for several years, who helped me through some major rough spots with my kids (partly because he'd been through similar rough spots with his kids) died a couple weeks ago, just before the panic hit. He was as wise and joyful a man as I've ever known. He was 91.<br />
<br />
About a week after that, a good friend's wife died. I had known her for years, even before she married my friend. She was kind and gracious, the kind of woman who made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. She'd suffered from Alzheimer's for the past few years, and in her last days, she declined precipitously.<br />
<br />
A week after that, my aunt, my mother's older sister, died. Her family and ours had always been close, and we took several memorable vacations with them over the years. She had been in declining health for a while; she was 88.<br />
<br />
The thing is, none of them died from COVID (at least, COVID wasn't given as the cause of death). It was just their time. With so much death swirling about the public consciousness, it all just reinforces the truth that we are all born to die, "as sparks fly upward" (Job 5:7). To put it more crassly, none of us gets out of here alive. My own advancing age, together with recent health issues, which are more like 'really annoying' than 'scary', have me thinking of my own mortality more than I used to. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
And yesterday brought the news that Al Kaline had died.<br />
<br />
How do I explain what it means to me that Al Kaline died? He was my boyhood hero. In that way that boys do, he was the sun of my solar system for many of my formative years. He was the best baseball player that I had the opportunity to see even somewhat close-at hand. It was a long way from my hometown Up North to Tiger Stadium in Detroit, and I only saw a few games live-and-in-person that Al Kaline played in. But I remember the first Tiger game I ever went to, as a boy probably 11 years old. We walked into the stadium, and saw the great green expanse of the field. As we walked along the concourse to our seats, some of the players were warming up - stretching and playing catch - and there he was - Al Kaline! I was mesmerized to see the great man in person, playing catch just like I did in my Little League games at home!<br />
<br />
Al Kaline had been the Tigers' best player for many years before I was even paying attention. His first major-league game was in 1953, three years before I was born. His breakout year was 1955, when he was the youngest player ever to lead the league in batting average, and I was <i>in utero</i> (at least, by the end of the season). By the time I was really paying attention in '65 or so, his best years were mostly behind him, although he was the Tigers' best player even still.<br />
<br />
In 1968, when I was 12, the Tigers won the American League pennant, and the World Series. Kaline spent much of the season injured, and by the time the pennant was clinched, it was hard to find places for him to play, because the young guys who had replaced him were all playing well. Even still, he scored the winning run in the bottom of the 9th against the Yankees in the pennant-clinching win in September. And then, in Game 5 of the World Series, with the Tigers down 3-games-to-1 to the Cardinals, and trailing 3-2 as they came to bat in the bottom of the 7th inning, Kaline came up with the bases loaded and singled, driving in the tying and go-ahead runs to stave off elimination so the Tigers could live to play another game. They went on to win games 6 and 7, and thereby, the World Series Championship, which is, to this day, still a high point in my young life. Kaline had a terrific World Series, batting .379 with 2 homers and 8 RBIs in 7 games.<br />
<br />
Kaline was a consummate defensive ballplayer, blessed with good speed, an other-worldly sense for reading the batter's swing and anticipating the flight of the ball, and an amazing arm. He was a right-fielder, and so was I. Of course, in the major leagues, the right-fielder typically has the strongest arm of the outfielders, since he has to make the long throw to third base, whereas in Little League, right field is typically where you try to hide the slow, fat kid, because fewer balls get hit that way (the majors have more left-handed pull hitters than Little Leagues do). But no-one ever made the throw from right-field to third base any better than Al Kaline. In that same Game 5 of the World Series, Lou Brock was on third base for the Cardinals, with a chance to add to their lead. The batter hit a medium-depth fly to right, which, especially with Brock on third, would almost always score a run. Kaline played the ball in textbook fashion, lining himself up a couple steps behind where the fly was coming down, so he caught the ball on the run and fired a 300-foot strike to the catcher. Lou Brock, to his credit, never even moved off third base, and his run never did score. There is another story of a time Kaline threw out a runner while sitting on his butt in the outfield.<br />
<br />
The thing is, as great a ballplayer as Al Kaline was, he was an even better man. Quick to deflect accolades to his teammates, or even his opponents, humble, self-effacing, he was the epitome of quiet grace, and leading by example. He hated drawing attention to himself, even years after his playing career was over. All he ever wanted to do was play ball as well as he possibly could. And that was incredibly good.<br />
<br />
When I was in college, his son was a student at my university, and even lived in my dorm for a year. From time to time, we'd see Al and his wife dropping off their son in front of the dorm, which was a special thrill, the few times it happened.<br />
<br />
For a man, even an old man like me, his boyhood hero holds a special place in his heart, his soul, even his concept of himself. I know that I have aspired to the same kind of quiet, gracious excellence as Al Kaline exemplified (it probably helped that my dad was cut from similar cloth; maybe that's why I latched onto Al Kaline). The world will seem a poorer place without him.<br />
<br />
Rest in Peace, Al Kaline; you were one of the best there ever was. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-76591207985766591052020-03-20T11:25:00.000-04:002020-03-20T11:25:00.274-04:00Interesting TimesOnce again, I must offer my sincere and abject apologies to whichever ancient Chinese persons I have offended, to have been thus cursed to live in such Interesting Times. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
<b><u>Life In the Time of the Virus</u></b><br />
<br />
We are hunkered down, not quite sheltered-in-place. We've made a few trips to the grocery store,and after the initial panic last weekend, we've mainly been able to get what we need (even toilet paper!). Other than that, though, we haven't been out much. Not that there's much to go out TO. 7M is a student at the local mega-university, and all his classes went to on-line instruction last week. Likewise, 8M's high-school has also gone all-on-line, and it is an open question as to whether commencement will happen as usual. Our grandson's day care is simply closed until further notice. Our church has been live-streaming masses said in an empty building. Yesterday, the every-other-week Bible study I'm in met via Zoom; I was the only one who didn't have a webcam.<br />
<br />
Cancelling the NCAA basketball tournament was a bit of a shock to the system. Normally, yesterday would have been the first day, and the TV would have been tuned to hoops from noon til midnight. And my Spartans were looking really promising, too (it's probably merciful that the Detroit professional sports teams get to recede from the public eye). . .<br />
<br />
Jenn had been doing childcare for 1F's son (now five months old), but she (1F) decided that she didn't want to put Jenn and me at risk, both of us being over 60, and therefore, at 'elevated risk'. It's a little odd, being the object of my kids' concern like that.<br />
<br />
Jenn has made a couple of shopping trips for a friend who's less willing than we are to venture out of her house. She leaves the groceries in the garage, rings the doorbell, and leaves. Sometimes her friend will come to the garage door and talk with her, but she won't get the groceries until Jenn is safely in her car and on the road. The same friend will also call Jenn three times a day to chide her for not taking 'social distancing' seriously enough. . .<br />
<br />
Being confined to our house with other people who are also more-or-less confined to our house poses a few odd challenges. Two sons who need quiet places in which to connect to their on-line classes places some strain on scarce resources of quiet places in our house. Not usually a terribly difficult problem, but we've also got our 5-year-old grandson here, and he doesn't always keep close track of which rooms are 'spoken for', so he can't just roam freely (and noisily) through the house like he's used to. There's more of a sense of the house being crowded than used to be the case.<br />
<br />
7M has been burning off some of his nervous energy by doing projects around the house, and God bless him. He gutted the walls in the kitchenette of the basement efficiency he's sharing with his new bride, and built new walls, replaced the grungy old basement window with glass blocks that instantly let in light that hasn't been seen in that space since we moved in, 20 years ago. But his increased levels of activity also mean that space becomes even more scarce as he re-locates the contents of the kitchenette while the work is in-process.<br />
<br />
My 401k has taken a beating, which could be alarming, as I'll need to start drawing on it about a year from now. But I'm not panicking; hopefully, the market will recover once the pestilence has run its course, but it definitely makes the times even more 'interesting'. . .<br />
<br />
I saw an article on-line yesterday, saying that some folks have started re-hanging their Christmas lights, as a way to reach out to their also-sequestered neighbors, to introduce a bit of cheer into the bleakness, and a tacit encouragement that we'll all get through this if we can just hang on. I loved the idea, besides which, invoking Christmas ("God with us") seems to me the perfect note to strike. So yesterday evening, 7M and I went and strung the lights around the porch roof (ours is not a gaudy or elaborate display). We'll see if any of our neighbors catch on. . .<br />
<br />
Hope all is well with all of you reading this. Hunker down as best you can, and stay well. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
<b><u>Return of the Prodigal</u></b><br />
<br />
For about the past year-and-a-half, we haven't seen hide nor hair of 3M. He disappeared, didn't tell anyone where he was (including the mother of his then-4-year-old daughter), and basically dropped out of our life. The other kids would occasionally see something of his on Facebook, but never with any way of knowing where he was, or how to contact him. That's how we found out that he had a baby son last July.<br />
<br />
So, a couple weeks ago (before COVID came to Michigan), we were heading across the street to a gathering of friends at one of our neighbors' houses, and there, parked in front of our house, was 3M, with his new woman. We sort of stared at each other for a minute, then ran through the obligatory "What are you doing here?" - type greetings. We dropped our contribution to the potluck at the neighbor's house, then invited them to come in and have dinner with us.<br />
<br />
We had a really good time together, and just basically got reconnected. There's really not a whole lot more to say. He seems to be in as good a place as he's been in a long time - working, clean and sober. He's even doing a pretty remarkable job step-fathering his new lady's kids. I'm sure it will take a while for comfort levels to come all the way back, but for now, we've got all eight of our kids back in the fold.<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
<b><u>Grand-girl at Ground Zero</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Last Sunday, 4M and his wife welcomed their new baby daughter into life in this world. She was born in Seattle, which is basically Ground Zero for COVID in the US. Which is kinda freaky, but you can't very well tell a baby not to be born until it's safer. 4M's mother-in-law is staying with them for a couple weeks. She got out of Michigan just before the initial wave of panic hit, which is probably good for her. The bad news is that she went to Seattle, where the curve still hasn't flattened yet. But on the other hand, she doesn't need to be in a hurry to return to Michigan, either. . .<br />
<br />
I can say that our new grand-girl is a certifiable cutie (but honestly - if she were homely, would I tell you that?) Photos we've seen, we see both her parents in her; she has her daddy's cleft chin (no idea how that got to him).<br />
<br />
So, the grand-kid counter has been spinning wildly out-of-control for the last few months. Let me see if I can make an accurate count. . .<br />
<br />
- Two have been placed for adoption<br />
- Three were born in 2014<br />
- Three have been born in the last nine months<br />
<br />
So, that's eight, counting just by DNA.<br />
<br />
But there are also<br />
<br />
- Three siblings to one of the adopted kids, with whom we have a relationship, and who call us 'Grandma' and 'Grandpa'<br />
- 6F's 3-yr-old step-daughter (did I mention that 6F got married this past winter?)<br />
- Two (and maybe three) of 3M's step-kids, who are young enough that they'll be part of our family moving forward.<br />
<br />
So six, maybe seven more; and all of a sudden, we have 14 or 15 grandchildren. Forgive us if our heads are spinning, just a little bit. But the times, they sure are Interesting. . .<br />
<br />
<br />Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-38055738455920029662020-03-03T08:49:00.000-05:002020-03-03T08:49:28.867-05:00Well, Here We Are. . .<b>When I'm Sixty-Four</b> (John Lennon - Paul McCartney)<br />
<br />
<i>When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now,</i><br />
<i>Will you still be sending me a Valentine,</i><br />
<i>Birthday greeting, bottle of wine?</i><br />
<i>If I've been out 'til quarter-til-three</i><br />
<i>Would you lock the door?</i><br />
<i>Will you still need me, will you still feed me,</i><br />
<i>When I'm sixty-four?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Every summer we could rent a cottage on the Isle of Wight, </i><br />
<i>If it's not too dear.</i><br />
<i>We shall scrimp and save</i><br />
<i>Grandchildren on your knee - </i><br />
<i>Vera, Chuck and Dave</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I could be handy mending a fuse when your lights have gone.</i><br />
<i>You could knit a sweater by the fireside,</i><br />
<i>Sunday mornings, go for a ride.</i><br />
<i>Doing the garden, digging the weeds,</i><br />
<i>Who could ask for more?</i><br />
<i>Will you still need me, will you still feed me,</i><br />
<i>When I'm sixty-four?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>You'll be older, too. . .</i><br />
<i>And if you say the word,</i><br />
<i>I could stay with you.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Send me a postcard, drop me a line, stating points of view.</i><br />
<i>Indicate precisely what you mean to say - </i><br />
<i>"Yours sincerely, wasting away."</i><br />
<i>Give me your answer, fill in a form - </i><br />
<i>Mine forever more;</i><br />
<i>Will you still need me, will you still feed me,</i><br />
<i>When I'm sixty-four?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
------------------------------<br />
<br />
When I got up this morning, Birthday Breakfast was waiting on the table for me. And there are rumors that my kids and grandkids (none of whom, oddly enough, are named Vera, Chuck or Dave) will be joining us for a celebratory meal, which may or may not culminate with pumpkin cheesecake. . .<br />
<br />
Looks promising, indeed. . . ;)Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-54067240250061417162019-11-15T07:11:00.000-05:002019-12-13T16:51:05.956-05:00I'm Not Dead Yet. . .You may have noticed that I've been pretty scarce around these bloggity precincts. There are a variety of reasons. I'l try to give you a decent accounting. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
In June (probably not long after my last post before Halloween), I woke up and couldn't get out of bed. Not sure exactly what happened, but my back and my legs (especially the left one) were in excruciating pain, as bad as any I've experienced in my life. I did eventually manage to get out of bed, but it was something like a 10-15 minute ordeal. Life persisted in that vein for a couple weeks before I finally decided that, whatever it was, it didn't seem to be transitory, so I went to see my doc.<br />
<br />
Turns out I had a couple of herniated discs in my lower back, which were pressing on my sciatic nerve, which responded by sending intense, shooting pain signals down my leg. I got a cane for myself, which at least allowed me to gimp around and not be bed-bound, which was handy. I started throwing pain-killers at it; it turns out to be more challenging than you might expect to find pain-killers that will actually deal with the pain without killing YOU in the process (especially since I told my doc I didn't want any opioids). I eventually got on a combination that would just keep me functional if I rotated them every four hours, but that wasn't a good long-term strategy (after a while, your liver and/or kidneys start to object).<br />
<br />
Anyway, one of the features of the pain I was experiencing was that it was very uncomfortable to sit still for very long periods of time ('very long' meaning 'more than 5-10 minutes'). And at least for me, blogging means sitting. Besides which, when you're in more-or-less constant pain, even if it's being somewhat managed, the creative juices just don't flow as freely as when you're not. Among other things, I couldn't put my own shoes on; if I planned on leaving the house, Jenn had to put my shoes on for me. So, those were not the happiest of days.<br />
<br />
I started Physical Therapy, and got referred to an orthopedist. I was fairly certain that back surgery was in my future (honestly, at that point, my basic attitude was like Rocky in the first movie - "cut me, Mick!"). But the doc suggested an injection before we went straight to surgery, which made sense to me. So I got the shot, and almost immediately, I felt a LOT better. I could get out of bed almost normally, and if I had a chair that was at least a little bit padded, I could sit for a decently long period. After a month, the doc checked me out. I was doing so well that he asked me if I wanted another shot. I thought about it for about three milliseconds and said, "Oh, hell yes!!" So I got another shot. And the next day, I set my cane aside. And put on my own shoes.<br />
<br />
And it has continued to get better from there. I quit one of my pain-killers entirely (the one that was most likely to cause liver damage), and started weaning myself off the other one. It was prescribed for three doses a day, but for a couple weeks now, I've been taking one in the morning, and that's all. I've had a few days that make me think that I can start skipping days pretty soon. So my health is much better, and 'normal life' is looking pretty darned normal, indeed. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
We're also doing a fresh round of grandchildren, this time with married parents, which is a new thing for us. 1F and her husband welcomed a baby boy in mid-October, and he is a certified cutie. Jenn is cutting back her work hours so she can take care of him three days a week while 1F goes back to work. So we're entering a new phase of life, which carries the promise of being really delightful.<br />
<br />
4M and his wife are expecting a little one in March, so there's that to look forward to, as well. On top of that, he just took a new job, which will have them living in Michigan again by spring. So, exciting times on that front, too.<br />
<br />
We haven't seen or heard from 3M for a year-and-a-half, but we did hear 'through the grapevine' that he begat a little guy this past spring, who we haven't met (and likely won't for quite a while, if ever). So, you know, we haven't totally gone out of the grandchildren-from-unmarried-parents business. If you're keeping score at home, we now have eight grandlings (at least by DNA, counting the one due in the spring; there are other ways of counting that would say eleven or six). . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
Besides all that, we finally got around to getting our bathroom remodeled. We had some, uh, water issues with the old one, and the floor was getting mushy to the point that I worried about punching a hole in it one of these days. Besides which, it was just generally badly executed (the previous owner was, to put it gently, a cobbler). So, our remodel was down to the studs and floor-joists (which could be a bit of a thrill if you got up to use the non-existent bathroom at, say, 3AM).<br />
<br />
Without going into tedious detail, I'll just say that the new bathroom is spectacular - an open shower, with no tub, tile walls and floor, two sinks and Jenn's <i>piece de resistance</i>, a laundry chute that deposits the laundry in a basket next to the washing machine in the basement. It wouldn't even be an exaggeration to say that our friends have been asking us if they could shower at our place. . .<br />
<br />
We went back-and-forth on whether we wanted a master bath for our 'private' use, or whether we needed it to be more 'public' than that. We finally hit on what I think is a really clever resolution, involving a pocket door that we can lock, so it's a 'private' bath when we want it to be, and 'public' when we want it to be.<br />
<br />
The whole project took two months to finish, but absolutely worth the wait. The other day, 2F was over, and when she walked into the new bathroom, she sighed, and said, "Every time I walk in here, it just makes me smile." I know what she means. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
We also paid off our mortgage. And bought our gravestone (not, you know, that I'm more in touch with my mortality, or anything like that). At least future generations will know that we were here, and when, and for how long. Because, you know, genealogy. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
Four years ago, Jenn and I signed up for a Biblical School that was being offered at our church. It was a four-year program, taught by folks with seminary degrees in Scripture. I jumped at the chance to actually be <i>taught</i> the Bible, instead of just gleaning what I could on my own, and I loved the program. But that was in the days when I was still working, and still driving an hour-and-a-half there and back. So when the first year was completed, and it was time to sign on for the second year, we just couldn't manage it. But ever since, we've been on the lookout for the same school being offered at another parish close enough for us to get to.<br />
<br />
So this fall, it's being offered at another parish maybe ten miles from our home, and my calendar is a lot freer than it was last time, so we signed on for another shot. Hopefully, this time we can finish the whole four-year program. So far (nine weeks in), it has been wonderful, every bit as good as the first time. And this time, we actually have the time to do justice to the workload. So our days are filled with reading and studying Sacred Scripture with real direction, and praying and meditating on it in deeper ways than we've had the opportunity to do before. So that's been occupying us, too.<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
So, that's what I've been up to, and why you haven't seen much of me around these parts. I'm not sure how much I'll be posting here in weeks and months to come; possibly not much at all. But I do still read your blogs (those of you who still blog), and even leave comments from time to time.<br />
<br />
And may God bless you all richly. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-80935000426151177472019-11-02T12:32:00.000-04:002019-11-02T12:45:52.774-04:00Blessings On Thee, Little Man. . .A couple days ago was Halloween, our culture's annual ghoul-fest-cum-candy-grab. Jenn and I have typically taken a somewhat detached approach to the festivities, but we'll play along good-naturedly, and have a stash of miniature sweets on hand to pass out to the costumed youngsters who make the effort to venture down our one-block dead-end street. When the weather is nice enough (a relative term, to be sure; Michigan in late October is rarely what you might call 'nice' in any absolute sense), we'll flip up the lower pane on the storm-door and poke our heads out to greet the youngsters who come to our door.<br />
<br />
This year, the weather was not even 'nice', much less 'nice enough'. Temperatures were in the low 30s, the wind was howling, and spitting rain turned to snow as the evening wore on. So, we wimped out. Rather than greeting the costumed kids who came to our house, we turned on the porch light and just left a big bowl of candy by the door, with an invitation to the kids to help themselves. Incredibly lame, I know. . . Of course, that approach has certain, um, vulnerabilities attached to it, but the weather was so nasty that we wouldn't have been surprised if there had been no trick-or-treaters at all.<br />
<br />
Alas, in a fallen world, vulnerabilities like that are almost guaranteed to be exploited, and sure enough, at one point, we heard a ruckus from the front porch, and when we glanced out the window, the candy bowl, which had been full enough just a few moments before, was empty, and a rowdy group of revelers was scurrying away from our yard. I went out to retrieve the empty bowl, preparing to turn off the light and pull down the curtain on this year's observance of Halloween, such as it was.<br />
<br />
As I did, a young fellow, maybe 7 or 8 years old, was coming up our steps, his dad waiting back on the sidewalk. He and I stared at the empty bowl, and I lamented that some greedy folks had bogarted the entire supply of festive candy (God knows who you are. . . just sayin'). As I surveyed the porch, I noticed that three pieces of candy had been strewn across the porch in the frenzy, and so, with an apology, I suggested to the young man that he could take those, since it was all we had left.<br />
<br />
He bent down and picked up the three pieces, thanking me, and then placed one piece back in the bowl, "in case somebody else might want one."<br />
<br />
There may or may not have been a tear in my eye as I looked at the dad in silent acknowledgement of a young man of exemplary character. . .<br />
<br />
God bless you, young man. . . I wish there were more like you. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
It's five months since I last posted here (and more like six since my last 'substantial' post). I might post something in the next little while, explaining my absence. But, neither do I want to give anybody (possibly) false hope that 'I'm back'. It is certainly not the case that nothing worth posting about has happened in our lives. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-48644271869411519672019-06-08T10:57:00.002-04:002019-06-09T15:49:44.248-04:00Words to Live By. . . Or, You Know, Not. . .<span style="color: #999999;">Stuff I've come across on the way to someplace else. . .</span><br />
<br />
"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."<br />
-- Mark Twain<br />
<br />
"It's funny how falling feels like flying. . . for a little while. . ."<br />
-- Jeff BridgesCraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-54609459549083442982019-05-21T15:14:00.000-04:002019-11-02T12:41:04.600-04:00DNAMy son (4M) gave me a DNA test for my last birthday. I've been meaning to do that for a while, just waiting for life (and my budget) to settle down a bit, what with three weddings and all. I've subscribed to Ancestry.com for a couple years now, and I've been looking forward to what I might learn. So I spit in the little tube, and sent it off.<br />
<br />
About a month ago, I got the results. I don't know exactly what I was expecting to find; I've been doing genealogy, at varying levels of activity, for over 30 years, on both my adoptive and birth families. I have a pretty good idea of what ethnicities are intermingled in me. I suppose I hoped to make some connections with parts of the various and sundry families that I didn't know very well, and maybe fill in the picture in greater detail.<br />
<br />
Ethnicity-wise, there were no surprises - 45% England and Wales, 30% Norway/Sweden, 15% Ireland/Scotland, and 10% 'Germanic Europe'. I guess I'd have expected a bit more German, but none of it took me by surprise. My birth-father's mother was full-blooded Norwegian (both her parents were off-the-boat), so the large Scandinavian component wasn't surprising.<br />
<br />
The thing I was most interested in was the connections with other people - cousins, etc, who could connect me with families I didn't yet know very much about. And boy, was that interesting!<br />
<br />
They gave me a list of people in their database whose DNA matches mine, along with an estimate of how closely we're related. At the top of the list was my birth-mother (I had been at her house in California when she sent her test in last year), who was duly identified as "QQQ is your mother". Which was no surprise, but still, it was a small measure of validation that all the detective work I did 30 years ago had been correct.<br />
<br />
The second name on the list was one of my birth-father's daughters, my half-sister. Again, nothing I didn't already know, but a small validation that Mom had told me the truth about who my birth-father was. Not, you know, that I doubted her. . .<br />
<br />
The third name on the list was a man I'd never heard of, who was called out as a 'likely first cousin'. In checking his other connections, he was also closely connected to my half-sister, so I surmised that he was from Birth-Father's side of my DNA. I asked my sister if she knew who he was, and she said, "Never heard of him."<br />
<br />
Well, that was a surprising response, to say the least. 'Likely first cousin' is a pretty close connection to have 'never heard of him'. Even if his family was somehow estranged from hers, you might suppose that she at least had some inkling of who he was. So I did a little poking around on-line, and found his mother's obituary, and his step-mother's obituary. Connecting a few dots, he was about the same age as 1F. He'd been born in Utah, and now lived in Virginia, where his mother had moved after divorcing his dad when he was in high school.<br />
<br />
Long story short, the father of DNA-Match-Guy was also born in Utah, about a year before I was. I called my sister again, and asked if her dad had ever been in Utah. Why, yes, she said, he'd been stationed in Utah while he was in the Air Force. In fact, she went on, he'd told her a story about having to get a quick transfer out of Utah - something about 'woman trouble'.<br />
<br />
Holy shit.<br />
<br />
Of all the possibilities of things I thought I might encounter from a DNA test, it never occurred to me that I might find another unknown half-sibling (DNA-Match-Guy turns out to be a half-nephew to me, which falls into the same range as 1st cousin). It shouldn't have been all that strange an idea to me - I mean, my own existence was evidence of certain, uh, self-control deficiencies on Birth-Father's part. But somehow, I'd framed this story in my head that I was the only one - a few years after I was born, he'd gotten married, and had his two daughters with his wife, and la-la, how the life went on.<br />
<br />
But I wasn't the only one; I wasn't even the first. Turns out, he had, uh, cast his seed farther and wider than I'd suspected.<br />
<br />
Birth-Father died a year-and-a-half ago. For nearly 30 years, we had a good (though not particularly close) relationship. I still appreciate having known who he was, and gotten some sense of what his life was about, even if it was quite a different life than mine (I mean, he went to the University of Michigan, for heaven's sake).<br />
<br />
On one level, this 'new information' shouldn't matter, and it really doesn't. I already knew of, and made my peace with, his rakishness as a young man; heck, that's why I'm here. But somehow, knowing that it happened twice (at least; who knows if there are others?) makes me a little sad. One thing to have a fling with my birth-mother when they were in college; another to blithely hop from woman to woman, leaving out-of-wedlock children in your wake. But, it is what it is, and it doesn't materially change my life. . .<br />
<br />
Yeesh.<br />
<br />
I'd love to actually meet my erstwhile half-brother; I've had a lot of fun with my two half-sisters, even having only met them when we were all adults. But honestly, I have no idea what his life is like, or what sort of person he is. I'm not sure what kind of rude surprise I might be for him, or why he'd ever want to meet me.<br />
<br />
La-la, how the life goes on. 4M is sending Jenn a DNA test (he was going to send it for her birthday later this summer, but we talked him into giving it as a Mother's Day gift). We already know of a few rather significant 'unknowns' in her genealogy, that we're (I think) looking forward to learning more about. We will see what we will see. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
On a more unambiguously happy note (and not unrelated to DNA), 7M got married a week-and-a-half ago, so our cycle of three weddings in a year is complete (1F and her husband celebrated their anniversary the day after 7M's wedding; we're looking forward next year to Mother's Day weekend without a wedding in it).<br />
<br />
There is something really happy about our kids (three of them, at least) getting married. In my mind, it is something like a marker of a degree of strength and stability in their lives, a kind of 'well-done' to us as parents, but even more, to the lives they've made for themselves, so far. Not that I suppose there are any guarantees - I've been around WAY too many blocks by now to think that - but it is a very good thing. Between 7M, and 4M and 1F, I am enjoying the dynamic of bringing in-laws into our family.<br />
<br />
1F also told us recently that she and her husband are expecting their first child together this fall. Hmmmmm. . . A grandchild born to married parents - how does that work?Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-23255097886578792382019-04-21T12:00:00.001-04:002019-04-21T12:00:36.734-04:00Victory!<span style="color: #cc0000;">"Lo, I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. . . When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">'Death is swallowed up in victory.'</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">'O death, where is your sting?</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">O death, where is your victory?'</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">. . . But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"> - The First Letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, chapter 15</span><br />
<br />Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-66617063233954966712019-03-06T06:53:00.000-05:002019-03-08T18:39:50.455-05:00Love Hurts<span style="color: #999999;">Lent is upon us once more, so in its honor, I've decided to re-post something in a 'penitential' mood. . .</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999;">-------------------------</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">“If I never loved, I never would have cried.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Simon & Garfunkel,<i> I am a Rock</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">“Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing, compared with love in dreams.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Dostoevsky, <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">“[Jesus], having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The Gospel of John, chapter 13, verse 1</span><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
Mother Theresa was fond of saying that our main task in this life is learning what it really means to love. She was also fond of saying that there is no spiritual growth without suffering. And I’ve come to understand that the two – love and suffering – are not so very separate from each other.<br />
<br />
I think we’re sort of conditioned by our culture to think of love in terms of mellow warm feelings toward another person – taking pleasure in their presence in our lives, wanting to do things together with them, or give our time and energy for their sake. But if warm-fuzzies is all that we mean by love, it winds up being pretty shallow and lame.<br />
<br />
In a fallen world, it comes to seem that any love worthy of the name inevitably has a tragic aspect about it. We are all fallen, broken persons, and our fallen-ness and broken-ness redound to the pain of those who love us. And hobble our ability to love others as we ought. We inevitably hurt and disappoint those who love us, and in many ways, the measure of love is the manner in which it deals with those hurts and disappointments.<br />
<br />
Our kids have taught some of this to Jenn and me. Some of our kids have been pretty amazing at various points in their lives, and it was pretty easy to soak up the accolades we received for being 'such wonderful parents'. But those same kids have also hurt us more deeply than we could ever have imagined. In my worst dreams, I never imagined one of my daughters being pregnant out-of-wedlock, and now all three of them have. Others of our kids just defied us in every possible way, and left us wondering why God had entrusted us with the task of raising children, since clearly, we knew nothing at all about how to do it. Still others just got lost in the chaos swirling around their siblings, when we simply lacked the resources to keep all our 'balls in the air' at once (how many of you are old enough to remember the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Xaq_e3o1KM" target="_blank">plate-spinning guy</a> on <i>The Ed Sullivan Show</i>? Raising kids can be a lot like that).<br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
All of our kids, in one way or another, have suffered from my (and, I suppose, Jenn's, although even to say so evokes thoughts of The Log and The Speck, besides which, it feels like talking behind her back) failures of love. I could go down the list, from 1F to 8M, and give instances of how my love was conditional, or weak, or insufficient; how I've paid more attention (whether positively or negatively) to some of them than to others, and on and on. Every one of them has suffered because I, whether out of my own sinfulness, or just my human limitations, simply didn't love them as much as they needed me to.<span style="color: #b45f06;"> </span> But perhaps we are learning, just a little bit better, what it means to love. Perhaps we can dig a little deeper, and give our kids the love they need, where once we’d have come up short. Perhaps. At least, I hope so. . .<br />
<br />
It’s not just the kids, either. As much as I love Jenn (and she me), there is, even still, a tragic aspect to our love. She has not avoided disappointing me (or, to be certain, I her), even though she is still the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. Some part of the measure of our love is coming to know – really know, where it hurts to know – each other’s weaknesses and character flaws, and keep moving forward. Even to cover for each other’s weaknesses (whether or not we ever thought we should have to).<br />
<br />
So, again - the measure of our love is not the absence of our disappointments with each other. The measure of our love is what we DO with the inevitable hurts and disappointments that we inflict on each other – can we let <span style="color: #990000;">“love cover a multitude of sins” (I Peter 4:8)</span>, or not?<br />
<br />
And then we have the example of God Himself, who <span style="color: #990000;">“demonstrates His own love for us in this – while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8)</span>. Jesus didn’t wait for us to get our shit together in order to make a gift of Himself for our sake. He loved us, “to the end,” even in all our fallen, broken, garbage.<br />
<br />
In his book, <i>The Cost of Discipleship</i>, Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously said that, <span style="color: #990000;">“When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.”</span> And I think it’s likewise when it comes to ‘learning what it really means to love’. To love greatly is to risk being hurt greatly. To ‘pour ourselves out’ for the sake of the beloved, with little or no regard for what we have left when we’re done.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">“And greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)</span><br />
<br />
Jesus, with all trepidation, I ask of you. . . teach me how to love. . .<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-40232563101611761182019-01-30T12:27:00.000-05:002019-01-30T12:27:17.178-05:00Wedding Wishes<span style="color: #999999;">Our son 4M got married a week-and-a-half ago (so now we have both a son-in-law AND a daughter-in-law; <i>woo-hoo!</i>). As part of my toast to the newlyweds, I read this passage from St. John Chrysostom:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999;">-------------------------</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">“Say to [your wife], ‘Our time here is brief and fleeting, but if we are pleasing to God, we can exchange this life for the Kingdom to come. Then we will be perfectly one, both with Christ and each other, and our pleasure will know no bounds. I value your love above all things, and nothing would be so bitter or painful to me as our being at odds with each other. Even if I lose everything, any affliction is tolerable if you will be true to me.’”</span><br />
<br />
To my son and his bride: Further Up and Further In!Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-30360336957008989242018-12-25T00:01:00.000-05:002018-12-25T00:01:05.428-05:00God With Us. . .<span style="color: #999999;">This is a conflation of a couple of Christmas meditations I wrote in my 'paper journal' back in the day (20 years ago and more. . .), and a partial re-post of what I posted here a few years back. . .</span><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">"Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> and they will call his name Emmanuel - 'God With Us'."</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> - The Gospel According to Matthew, chapter 1, verse 23</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> (ref. The Book of the Prophet Isaiah, 7:14)</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red;">"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us."</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> - The Gospel According to John, chapter 1, verse 14</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red;">"In the past, God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> at many times and in various ways;</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">But in these last days, He has spoken to us by His Son. . ."</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> - The Epistle to the Hebrews, chapter 1, verses 1-2</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">"For we do not have a High Priest who is unable</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> to sympathize with us in our weakness. . ."</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> - The Epistle to the Hebrews, chapter 4, verse 15</span><br />
<br />
I recall a sermon I heard once, in which the preacher made the point that, in the Incarnation God, who is greater than the Universe, willingly confined Himself in human flesh. The One who created the Universe, who called it into being and sustains it by His merciful love, emptied Himself of his infinite Divine prerogatives and lived among us, as one of us, knowing, in His own body, our finitude, our weakness. It's as though I, in my compassion for worm-kind, became a worm, to live as a worm among the worms, to understand in my own life and experience, what worm-hood is like. Except that God taking on human flesh is a bigger existential 'leap' than me becoming a worm; I already know what it's like to live in a body, for one example. . .<br />
<br />
So then - God is no longer remote from us; He has come to us - God is <i>with us</i>. He's One of Us (I think of the Joan Osborne song from the 90s; she asked a better question than perhaps she knew. . .)<br />
<br />
How differently would we understand our lives if we were more consciously aware of this foundational truth - God is <i>with us</i>.<br />
<br />
How differently would we relate to our minor trials (or our major ones, for that matter) if we knew - really <i>knew</i> - that God is <i>with us</i>.<br />
<br />
How different would our sins look to us if we really understood that God is <i>with us</i>?<br />
<br />
What a privilege, what an awesome possibility is laid before us - God has become one of us, that we might become like God. And yet how little do we - do <i><b>I</b></i> - take hold of it and venture so bold as to live by means of God's grace?<br />
<br />
<br />
And then this -<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">"He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all - </span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> how will He not also graciously give us all things?"</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> - The Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, chapter 8, verse 32</span><br />
<br />
God didn't have to send His Son, the Eternal Word, to be incarnate, but he did. And if He did that, what won't he do for us? Can I even grasp what this - the Incarnation - means, in terms of how God wants to relate to me? With what gracious favor, what kindliness, what gratuitous, extravagant, profligate love, He regards me/us? The <span style="color: red;">'plans He has for [us], plans for good and not for evil, to give [us] a future and a hope?' (ref. Jeremiah 29:11)</span><br />
<br />
It reminds me of what CS Lewis said in 'The Weight of Glory' -<span style="color: #990000;"> "We muck about with drink and sex and ambition, when infinite joy is offered us."</span> We just don't get it. . .<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
O God, have mercy on us; help us to see clearly, and to know, really know, the lavishness of your love for us. Let it change us, purify us, make us holy, make us more like you created us to be in the beginning, to be your presence in the world, to shine as lights in the darkness. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-90344025748801905802018-11-22T05:45:00.000-05:002018-12-05T10:41:53.318-05:00Gratitude<span style="color: #999999;">In honor of Thanksgiving, I'm re-posting a pair of (I hope) pertinent posts from bygone years. I mean, I think they're not too bad. . .</span><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, <i>The Imitation of Christ</i> (in the original Latin, <i>Imitatio Christi</i>), which in the fullness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of my own all-time favorite books.<br />
<br />
The <i>Imitation</i> reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into my 'Book of Favorite Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends, is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."</span><br />
<br />
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Jenn and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.<br />
<br />
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works, on multiple levels. . .<br />
<br />
As most of you know, I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy', once upon a time. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met, taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Jenn and I got married and began having our own children (1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me), and all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.<br />
<br />
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude. I'm grateful to her for giving me life, and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me. And she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals (shocking as this may seem to you, I know), and there could be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined. But from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.<br />
<br />
And likewise in my marriage. I'm so grateful to Jenn for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks (and yes, alas, she has one or two) just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know it works the same way from her end. It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm just not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings' <i>(Beatle-lyrics-reference alert!)</i>, just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is) (but let me be clear - it is a most excellent gift), brings deep joy to my whole life. I'm certainly not meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe we've learned something really good and valuable. . .<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
The conviction has grown within me, over the years, that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, certainly, and most fundamentally. But even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.<br />
<br />
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy and meaning to our lives.<br />
<br />
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my blog-friends, however briefly, to give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-30567689575834853022018-10-25T05:55:00.000-04:002018-10-31T21:15:57.467-04:00With My Body, I Thee Worship<span style="color: #999999;">Re-posting one more of my best. . .</span><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
A while back, a phrase came into my mind (phrases do that to me, from time to time; it's my cross to bear), and it hasn’t left me alone ever since. It’s from an old, traditional form of the Catholic wedding service (incredibly geeky, I know, but what can I do?). Anyway, at one point during the vows, the bridegroom says to the bride: “With my body, I thee worship.”<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">With my body, I thee worship.</span><br />
<br />
There is a real depth there, a real richness, that goes beyond merely “I love you,” or even, “I want to have a life and a family with you,” although those things are certainly included in it. It captures very well how I feel about my wife, and how I aspire to have my life be joined to hers.<br />
<br />
On multiple levels, sex is an act of worship – Catholics would invoke the grace of the sacrament of Matrimony. But in a simpler, earthy sense, I can simply say that I mean to worship Jenn. Not, obviously, in the same sense in which I worship God – I would mean something like ‘reverence’, or ‘venerate’, or ‘honor’ or ‘esteem’, but none of those words capture the full sense of what I mean the way that ‘worship’ does. Jenn is worthy of veneration, just like, say, Catholic theology would say the saints are worthy of veneration, but she is the saint whose life is bound up with mine.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G._K._Chesterton" target="_blank">GK Chesterton</a> wrote that being constrained to one woman was a small price to pay for the privilege of having even one woman, and that sense of reverential gratitude resonates deeply with me. Getting to know Jenn – really know her – is like being let in on a great mystery. As a Christian, I want to go “further up and further in” (to borrow a phrase from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._S._Lewis" target="_blank">CS Lewis</a>) – grow deeper in my love of God, and give myself more fully to Him. In an analogous way, I want to ‘go deeper’ in our marriage, and the life we have together. I want to know Jenn better, be known better by her, give my life more fully to her, and that begins to get at the ‘worship’ I aim to give her.<br />
<br />
I have often remarked to Jenn that reproducing ourselves together is the coolest, most amazing thing we could ever do. In a way, it is the biblical 'one flesh' in its most concrete form (or, if you will, in our case, eight fleshes). I mean - think of it - we're making another PERSON out of the substance of the two of us, and our love for each other.<br />
<br />
In Holy Communion, Catholics believe that we receive Christ directly into our bodies (there is a very earthy aspect to Catholic theology that I find immensely appealing). In an analogous way, we give ourselves, and receive each other, directly into our bodies when we make love, under the covering of the sacrament of Matrimony. It’s all so rich, I can scarcely say what I really mean.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">With my body, I thee worship.</span><br />
<br />
Utterly, completely awesome. . .<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449788532742031864.post-31544504876092520342018-09-28T06:28:00.000-04:002018-09-30T11:40:51.149-04:00It's Personal. . .<span style="color: #999999;">In honor of the 29th anniversary of my reunion with my birth-mother. . .</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhly80yR5MML_xJ-pl8JgWE0S94R6N3MjrVBdq-5w__Su4w8fj-f79BEejgIA4H03Jw2otUqYPBvhcY7t0JHic2yYQQAWlFApPplZk8oBCNetLUflB2a5llRc6UdiK_5BPfcCE7oF_81HKS/s1600/reunion_1989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1440" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhly80yR5MML_xJ-pl8JgWE0S94R6N3MjrVBdq-5w__Su4w8fj-f79BEejgIA4H03Jw2otUqYPBvhcY7t0JHic2yYQQAWlFApPplZk8oBCNetLUflB2a5llRc6UdiK_5BPfcCE7oF_81HKS/s320/reunion_1989.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #999999;">-------------------------</span><br />
<br />
Sometime when I was in college, the realization dawned on me that, as an adoptee, I had been somebody’s ‘unwanted pregnancy’ once upon a time. And in the fullness of time, especially once Jenn and I married and began having children together, that became one of my strongest motivations to search for my birth-mother – I wanted to thank the woman who, though I had never met her, had carried me in her womb for nine months, and seen me through to the beginnings of my life in this world. (And just as an aside, for me as an adoptee, even such a basic concept as that I'd been carried in someone's womb once-upon-a-time could be disconcertingly abstract).<br />
<br />
Along with that realization, I came to understand that, all things considered, I was probably fortunate to have been born before 1973 and Roe v. Wade. I had never particularly staked out a firmly-held position on abortion (My younger self was probably mostly ‘pro-choice’, without having given it much thought), but once I understood that, had I been conceived in another time, I would have been a pretty likely candidate for abortion (white college women abort roughly 98% of their ‘unwanted pregnancies’), the question took on an entirely different, and personal, aspect.<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
I recall a conversation I had with my birth-mother some time after our reunion. She was talking about her life as a pregnant-and-unmarried woman in the 1950s, and how difficult it had been for her, and she said something like, “I just wish I’d had the choices that women have today.”<br />
<br />
I nodded sympathetically. . . until the penny fell all the way to the bottom. Ummmmm. . . you understand, right, that we're talking about ME here? I mean, we’ve had a really, REALLY happy reunion, and both of us are glad for the opportunity to know each other, and our respective families. If you had exercised the ‘choice’ you’re alluding to, none of that would be even a remote possibility. You might still wonder who I’d been, but without any possibility of ever knowing. . .<br />
<br />
She understood. Not that she was wishing that she’d aborted me; only that she’d felt so trapped when she was pregnant, and wished that she’d had anything at all she could have done about that. Now, I could understand how trapped she felt. Frederica Mathewes-Green has written and spoken insightfully about women who "want an abortion the way an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg" (and I would highly recommend <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Real-Choices-Listening-Alternatives-Abortion/dp/1888212071/ref=cm_cr-mr-title" target="_blank">her book</a> which is the source of that quote; it's an utterly unique book, just for her refusal to take part in the standard shouting matches.).<br />
<br />
And I get that. I have the utmost compassion for women who are pregnant when it is nigh unto catastrophic for them to be so. All three of my daughters have been among those women, not so very long ago. And my heart ached for each of them, wishing there was something, anything, that I could do to make it easier for them. . .<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
But, back in 1955-56, that was ME in my birth-mother’s belly. Not merely a clump of cells, or a faceless ‘fetus’ (honestly, as we sit here, you and I and every other human being are living, breathing clumps of cells; but of course, we're much more than that, and so we were in our mothers' wombs, as well) – it was me, with my own genetic code, distinct from my birth-mother's (or my birth-father's). And if my birth-mother had had an abortion, it was me who would’ve died.<br />
<br />
And the ripples go out from there. My adoptive parents might’ve adopted someone else; who can say? But they wouldn’t have adopted <i>me</i>. My classmates and friends and Little-League teammates could scarcely be said to have missed me – how do you miss someone who, as far as you know, never even existed? – but something of the life we shared together would never have happened. Jenn would most likely have married someone else (I mean, she’s an amazing woman; she'd have had guys standing in line for her); but she wouldn’t have married <i>me</i> (and who can say how that might have gone for her?). And our children would never have come to be – her children, if she had any, would be someone else entirely (I've occasionally gotten a chuckle from the thought that I'm the personification of the 'population-control' movement's worst nightmare - an 'unwanted pregnancy that turned into eight more mouths to feed). . .<br />
<br />
And so it goes. In fact, those of you who were born after 1973, have you ever wondered how many children who might have been your friends or classmates or Little-League teammates, or heck, husbands or wives, were never allowed to be born? Cold statistics tell us that, in the US alone, the number would be on the order of 60 million or so by now - a fifth again of the population of our country (worldwide, the number would be many times that). Do you ever wonder who those people might have been?<br />
<br />
But just to cite a number misses the point. What music was never made, what literature was never written, what cures for which diseases never came about, for want of the men and women who might have done those things, but were never born?<br />
<br />
And even still - to talk in terms of 'who might have done what' misses the point, too. It's not so much that, eg, the late Steve Jobs (an adoptee like me) was so worthwhile for what he did, but that every human life is intrinsically valuable in-and-of-itself. And 'humanity-at-large' benefits from every one of its members, whether they 'accomplish anything' or not. Certainly, we've all benefitted from the fact that Steve Jobs, or Beethoven, or anyone else, were born and not aborted. But we'll never know, in terms other than bloodless, colorless statistics, what 'humanity-at-large' has lost for those tens of millions who were never born. . .<br />
<br />
My point here is not to guilt-trip any woman who has ever had an abortion; my heart absolutely goes out to those women, for they, too, have had violence done to them; they've been sold a bill of goods, given a false promise. I only hope to put a more ‘human’ face on the question, and challenge anyone to think of ‘unwanted pregnancy’ not as a ‘problem’ with an easy technological solution, but as something real, and human, and flesh-and-blood. And life-and-death.<br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
I don’t think my birth-mother is terrible for wishing she’d had more choices available to her (honestly, on one level, it’s easy for her to say; she’ll never bear the cost of having chosen otherwise) (but, to be utterly clear - the very last thing I mean is to trivialize what it cost her for me to be here).<br />
<br />
No, I actually think she’s pretty cool; as birth-mothers go, she’s definitely one of the best, and I am as happy as I can be that we’ve known each other for all these years. I understand how trapped she felt 60-odd years ago, and I absolutely appreciate, and am utterly grateful for, the sacrifice it was for her, for me to be here today. It’s personal for her in an entirely different, but analogous, way to how it’s personal for me. And I understand that.<br />
<br />
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, the only fitting response to which is gratitude. I am as grateful as I can be for my life, my family, my wife and children, and all of my friends, including those of you who are reading this; for existence in this rich and fascinating Universe, and for the Hope of the World to Come. And none of that could ever have come to pass for me, if I'd been snuffed out before I could be born.<br />
<br />
So you see, it's personal - it involves persons, created in God's image and likeness, with inherent worth and dignity not conferred on them by any other human being. Mothers and fathers and children - persons, one-and-all. And my birth-mother is one of them. And so am I. . .<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
It's occurring to me that the 20s of September are becoming a pretty event-rich time of year for me/us; besides my reunion with my birth-mother. . .<br />
<br />
One of my sisters has her birthday on the 26th; the other has her wedding anniversary on the 25th.<br />
<br />
A year ago, on the 23rd, I had the <a href="http://theyardnextdoor.blogspot.com/2017/10/doctor-my-eyes.html" target="_blank">stroke</a> which, while fairly minor, all things considered, has permanently altered the boundary conditions of life around here.<br />
<br />
19 years ago on the 24th, 7M (17 months old at the time) <a href="http://runningintheyard.blogspot.com/2006/06/dont-tread-on-me.html" target="_blank">was run over</a> in our neighbor's driveway. That he has lived to robust good health (including honorable-mention all-state as a high-school football linebacker) (to say nothing of the fact that he'll be getting married to his high-school sweetheart 8 months from now) is the most amazing miracle I think I've ever seen. . .<br />
<br />
And yesterday, Jenn and I had lunch with my blog-friend <a href="https://lionskip.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Skip</a>, and his bride, as they passed through our neighborhood on their lap of the US (in the process passing, in Jenn's nomenclature, from 'fake friends' to 'real' ones; Pinocchio never had it so good. . .)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXVfe-ZJeZBh2Xx3B9yxdL5pfcc-OIGW2z2uY9ykj61OECQZ-Ago7Pa50bE_U3nPCYrtK7orEh0PlTwmEGvWjlt4QtismIyvNMlDFUdhIcJJQBIiF1nHzX3vLsVQOkLY_Cao-kE0nvlC6/s1600/Skip%252BLaurie_27Sep18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="984" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXVfe-ZJeZBh2Xx3B9yxdL5pfcc-OIGW2z2uY9ykj61OECQZ-Ago7Pa50bE_U3nPCYrtK7orEh0PlTwmEGvWjlt4QtismIyvNMlDFUdhIcJJQBIiF1nHzX3vLsVQOkLY_Cao-kE0nvlC6/s320/Skip%252BLaurie_27Sep18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12044041773404411751noreply@blogger.com6