On Wednesday, it is August. The July-fly-by is almost complete. Age does not seem to be a factor in how short summer feels; however, the older I get, the longer winter becomes. After watching Frozen 700 times, I've come to the same conclusion after each screening.
Do you want to build a snowman?
No.
Alas, tis the season to soak it in. Last Saturday, I was a combatant in the 25th edition of Barnball, a 2-on-2 basketball tournament on Coon Ridge Road; simple by description, complex for the psyche. I first stepped foot in the barn when I was in high school. This summer, I was a 34-year-old veteran. The kids in high school are now closer in age to my kids than to me. When my partner and I were eliminated deep into the 2018 Barnball, I awoke the next morning and did what a small child would do.
I took a post-barn bubble bath. "No bubbles, no glory." - Mr. Bubbles
While basketball brings it all together, this July phenomenon has endured through families; through community; through connection. The blood and bruising is a testament to Barnball's impossible to fully capture camaraderie; a quarter-century of fellowship on the hard, hard wood. Fathers and sons, brothers, and some incredible female athletes have laid it all out in the barn. Maybe, one day, my daughters will be playing hay bale hoops. For now, stick to Frozen and I'll ice my knees.
This Sunday, the Family Fun Barbecue at Our Mother of Sorrows was a much less rigorous form of fellowship. Spearheaded by my ambitious wife, the sun shined on dozens of families. In my 3+ years of parenting, I've used the wolf pack comparison the most. Once you start traveling as a parent, you are at your best in a pack. You get to talk about interrupted sleep while reasoning with your wolf pups on how attacking someone with a stick is not the same as "playing with sticks". You gain strength by learning about the weakness of other wolves - those parents in the fight of their lives. I told as many people as I could that my 1-year-old peed all over me during the New Testament. I went to the car, changed my shirt, and was back for the homily (wolf howl).
At OMOS, in the barn, and across Johnstown, I have met a lot of good people. My wife and I have made it a point to have our kids say 4 amazing words to anyone we meet - "Have a good day!" I believe the more that we say it - as a family, as a community - the more good days there will be. In our culture, we too often hear the word "news" and think "bad".
Make good news. Turn a barn into a family. Have your family feel like part of the community.
In the words of my daughters, "Have a good night!"
And for those parents staring at the moon, "HOWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Sunday, July 15, 2018
Joys of July
Once July arrives, it always feels as if summer accelerates. And in that acceleration, it is always nice to take time for some appreciation. This is the best that July has had to offer thus far.
Independence Day is a yearly reminder that we have it good. In our parental escapades, my wife and I try to channel our frustrations by reciting "first world problems" - a realization that the crosses we bear are quite bearable. On the 4th of July, I was subjected to Brownstown's firework bonanza as my daughters circled us like vultures - adorable, adorable vultures. My 3-year-old rejoiced in her idea for a family hug. As the sky lit up with explosions of all kinds and colors, our family of 4 hugged hard. It was a grateful and goofy moment.
On the very next day, that same family of 4 had private occupancy in Idlewild's toddler pool. This was because it was raining with ferocity and we were the only swimmers of silliness. We rampaged through the rain until the Soak Zone closed for the incoming soaking. By the time we got to the carousel, the heavens burst and thunder roared. A torrential downpour would not steal my oldest daughter's merriment. Completely at peace, she praised her horse. Then, it was a mad dash from the merry-go-round to the Subaru. It was one satisfying storm.
That weekend, my brother and his wife announced that a baby girl is on the way. My immediate and genuine reaction was to announce that they will be the recipients of an entire closet of clothes. Between brothers, the official production count is Women 3, Men 0. Bring on the Barbies.
This past Friday, it was a Dad-daughter day at Idlewild. Dividing the family and conquering is sometimes the smartest of strategies. I took my 36.5 inch blonde to do it all. We adventured through Storybook Forest. We climbed the cargo net. We joined the sea of humanity in the Soak Zone. And in our greatest act, we rafted Pipeline Plunge for the first time. In a twisty tunnel of darkness, I shouted "It's okay!" Unable to identify how my co-captain was doing, we sprang and splashed back into the sunshine. Upon making eye contact as we came to shore, she calmly told me she did not want to do it again.
After leaving the amusement park, we had a delicious dinner date at Carol and Dave's Roadhouse. My goal was to refuel and run her hard at Friendship Park in Ligonier after digestion. I did just that. After a solid hour of an American Ninja Warrior circuit, swinging, and shenanigans, it was time to head home. Believing she would fall asleep in no time, I was ready to embrace silence. About when I thought silence arrived, my Ninja Warrior loudly asked, "Dad, when do we trick-or-treat again?"
Alas, today - Sunday - the day of rest. Two Scripture readings seized the day. The first, Psalm 85, centered on the harvest. The second, the Gospel of Mark, focused on a journey and how a walking stick is all a disciple needs. In the late afternoon, I led a team of adventurers into Stackhouse Park, the latest installment of Faith and The Forest. I had my walking stick in hand and my 3-year-old in my hiking pack. A friend and his son joined us. An ambitious mom and her four kids rounded out our brigade. We played in the stream, searched for wildlife, and built relationships. As we climbed out of the park, rain fell upon our town once more.
In the upcoming weeks, soak up what remains of this summer. Enjoy and find joy in your community. When the harvest comes, don't look back and wish you did more. Appreciate what you have and don't accelerate too much. You never know how many more summers you will have.
To every sunrise and sunset,
Rest easy, Johnstown.
Independence Day is a yearly reminder that we have it good. In our parental escapades, my wife and I try to channel our frustrations by reciting "first world problems" - a realization that the crosses we bear are quite bearable. On the 4th of July, I was subjected to Brownstown's firework bonanza as my daughters circled us like vultures - adorable, adorable vultures. My 3-year-old rejoiced in her idea for a family hug. As the sky lit up with explosions of all kinds and colors, our family of 4 hugged hard. It was a grateful and goofy moment.
On the very next day, that same family of 4 had private occupancy in Idlewild's toddler pool. This was because it was raining with ferocity and we were the only swimmers of silliness. We rampaged through the rain until the Soak Zone closed for the incoming soaking. By the time we got to the carousel, the heavens burst and thunder roared. A torrential downpour would not steal my oldest daughter's merriment. Completely at peace, she praised her horse. Then, it was a mad dash from the merry-go-round to the Subaru. It was one satisfying storm.
That weekend, my brother and his wife announced that a baby girl is on the way. My immediate and genuine reaction was to announce that they will be the recipients of an entire closet of clothes. Between brothers, the official production count is Women 3, Men 0. Bring on the Barbies.
This past Friday, it was a Dad-daughter day at Idlewild. Dividing the family and conquering is sometimes the smartest of strategies. I took my 36.5 inch blonde to do it all. We adventured through Storybook Forest. We climbed the cargo net. We joined the sea of humanity in the Soak Zone. And in our greatest act, we rafted Pipeline Plunge for the first time. In a twisty tunnel of darkness, I shouted "It's okay!" Unable to identify how my co-captain was doing, we sprang and splashed back into the sunshine. Upon making eye contact as we came to shore, she calmly told me she did not want to do it again.
After leaving the amusement park, we had a delicious dinner date at Carol and Dave's Roadhouse. My goal was to refuel and run her hard at Friendship Park in Ligonier after digestion. I did just that. After a solid hour of an American Ninja Warrior circuit, swinging, and shenanigans, it was time to head home. Believing she would fall asleep in no time, I was ready to embrace silence. About when I thought silence arrived, my Ninja Warrior loudly asked, "Dad, when do we trick-or-treat again?"
Alas, today - Sunday - the day of rest. Two Scripture readings seized the day. The first, Psalm 85, centered on the harvest. The second, the Gospel of Mark, focused on a journey and how a walking stick is all a disciple needs. In the late afternoon, I led a team of adventurers into Stackhouse Park, the latest installment of Faith and The Forest. I had my walking stick in hand and my 3-year-old in my hiking pack. A friend and his son joined us. An ambitious mom and her four kids rounded out our brigade. We played in the stream, searched for wildlife, and built relationships. As we climbed out of the park, rain fell upon our town once more.
In the upcoming weeks, soak up what remains of this summer. Enjoy and find joy in your community. When the harvest comes, don't look back and wish you did more. Appreciate what you have and don't accelerate too much. You never know how many more summers you will have.
To every sunrise and sunset,
Rest easy, Johnstown.
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