In case you're not in the know we are having a baby boy pretty gosh darn soon, give or take 7 and a half weeks. To that end we had our first baby shower this past Saturday, and this blog has its origin in that moment as much as any other. I was frankly surprised when I found out that my mom and sister would be attending the shower, I figured they would buy us stuff, but didn't expect them to actually attend the shower. My sister now has 4 kids, one just a few months old and figured that they would keep them from coming.
[my mom and step-father live near my sister to help out, hence why I figured neither would show]
But, they decided that they would be able to come, and we were both glad that they did. Among other things, my mom got us a glider rocker, which I had been wanting, but I was not hopeful that anyone would buy it. Mom also brought me a yellow folder with some various papers in it. Obviously, this is the yellow folder of the title, so what was in this folder you may be wondering? Well, first a step sideways.
Side Step
As I said, a baby boy will soon be gracing our door with his noises and smells and needs and gifts. I am extremely excited to meet my son, I am extremely anxious about wanting to be a great dad, but most of all in recent weeks I have been extremely concerned with what kind of legacy I am handing down to my son. I look back at my life and wonder exactly what I am going to hand down. I have had high points and successes along the way, I can't nor won't deny that, but I also know the mistakes that I have made, the health issues I have had, the dark places I sometimes have ventured into, spiritually, emotionally, physically, and I begin to worry about Henry, begin hoping that he follows only in the good steps and keeps away from the bad ones.
It's funny in a way because growing up my mom would always tell me and my sister about her mistakes in order for us to choose a different path. It's sad in a way because combined me and my sister made almost all of them. Which makes me wonder, how much of life really is nature and nurture? Which leads me to wrestle with the dilemma of 'how do I lead/keep Henry on the good path?' I look at people in my own, small church and see many families who are continually in prayer over their children and the paths that they have chosen, praying that they will come back to the faith they once seemed to know. How do I, as a man and a pastor, adequately help Henry to grow in stature among people and God?
If I am honest I am not the best pray-er, I talk to God but I don't have a set time or place, I don't have space carved out for prayer, but I have found myself pleading to God recently that I will know which path to walk, which words to say, which stories to tell, so that Henry a) doesn't make my mistakes and b) is allowed to make his own. I want to teach obedience and grace, to teach faith and questioning, so that he understands what God's love and ultimately my love mean.
Step Back
So, the yellow folder. Inside the yellow folder was a plethora of things. Some unneeded tax forms from way back in college. Some random recipes, some of which I have already, some of which I hate. An attachment guide for a Kitchen Aid Mixer that my mom gave us last year. My immunization records. A few pictures. 2 news-clippings from high school when I was selected to see the city government in action, I went to the sewage treatment plant. I remember two things distinctly, a) inside it didn't smell at all and b) there was an issue of playboy in the bathroom.
Also, a certificate of baptism from when I was 8 months old. My six year old fingerprints. My high school commencement bulletin. A Presidential Academic Fitness Award. A letter saying that I was eligible for Indian Creek Schools Gifted program A piece of paper that mentions how I was eligible to participate in the Johns Hopkins Mathematics and Verbal Talent Search, and one piece that says that I did participate. I read 'To qualify for the Talent Search, a student must have scored in the 97th, 98th, or 99th percentile of national norms in a single area (mathematics, verbal, or composite score) of a standard aptitude or achievement test.' I scored in the 99th in math.
So on the one side I had a bunch of papers that talked about my life, about a few things I did, about what I was immune from, about how smart I used to be, about how much potential I once had. I wish I had realized what it meant then that I was so good at math, maybe I would have worked on that a little more, instead of allowing one jerk teacher to kind of take my joy of math away. I barely remember the words sign cosign and tangent, let alone am I currently able to tell you what they actually mean. If I had known, maybe I'b be an engineer or a banker, making lots of money, maybe I would be a different person in a different place. I am perfectly fine with my place in the world right now though. My young self may have loved a life in numbers but my current self likes a life in the midst of people. I would rather be giving hope to people than giving them a bill or a foreclosure or a new car.
So, that was the right side of the folder, now the left.
In the left pocket there was...a declaration of my parents marriage. A ceremonial program for their wedding. My dad's registration card for selective service, which oddly enough looks in better condition than mine. A card that certifies my dad's honorable discharge from the Air Force following a four year service as a 'basic airman' where he received a National Defense Service Medal. According to Wikipedia it is a medal commissioned by President Eisenhower as a 'blanket campaign medal' for those who served honorably during a time of 'national emergency.' My father would have been in the first group to receive this medal for duty during the Korean War. It has also been awarded during the Vietnam War, the Gulf War and the War on Terrorism. I have no clue where that medal may be today, perhaps my grandma has it or maybe my half bro Billy.
There were three more papers in the folder. First my dad's birth certificate, certifying that my dad was born in Steubenville Ohio June 16,1934. Also included in the folder was a obituary of my grandfather, a man who died 25 years before I was born at the age of 49. The last piece was my dad's death certificate, certifying that my dad died on January 14, 1984, a little over two months before my 6th birthday, when he was 49. Did you notice that? Cause I did, I have always known how old my dad was when he died, but I never knew that my grandfather died at the same age. That freaks me out a little. I know its ridiculous. My grandfather had a heart attack, my dad cancer. But both at 49. That's just 14 and a half years from now. Henry would be in junior high, which I suppose would be 9 more years than I had with my dad, so that would be something at least.
I don't think that I am destined to die at 49, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't be a bit relieved on my 50th birthday. I would also be lying if I said that it doesn't make me want to appreciate the next 14 and a half, or how many years I have left. I hope to live to a ripe old age, to be able to live to complain about all the aliments that my parishioners complain about. I hope to see Mary's hair covered in gray or white, to see Henry graduate from high school and college and medical school so he can take care of his poor parents. I hope to see his wedding day and be there for the birth of my grandchildren. I hope all the things that a new parent hopes, because sooner or later death will come for me, just like it did for my grandfather and father before me, just like it does for everyone sooner or later, but that's tomorrow and right now its still just today.
Peace and Love,
Pastor K
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