I hate politics...

                          We were watching this mornings news, before the bus came to transport my two eldest McMonkeys to the primate cages of our local scholastic zoo, and the pundits were talking about refugees and places like Belgium and that New Year's Eve fiasco, earlier this year. 

                                                Soon, questions came my way.

                            It was kind of nice speaking with people that have no preconceived notions or prejudices on political issues, but equally difficult to express the depth of sadness I feel in realizing that the only ones who seem to have that now, are pre adolescent kids...

                               I struggle to present facts to my children like the real, old school journalists used to do.

                                                       "Just the facts, ma'am..."

                                                       Not tainted by my prejudices...

                                                       

                                                         Oh, how I hate politics.

                 

                                     I have my views. They are the views of a fifty something -year old blue collar white male, raised in a conservative Catholic, two parent household, in upstate New York.

                                      They have been shaped by many hard lessons of rebellion, defeat and the consequences thereof. Some were tempered in the military and others in back alleys...

                                 Most have been compared and questioned, set beside my Christian Faith, which is my end all- yardstick of right and wrong...

                                                 So of course, I am  extremely biased...

                                    Sheepishly, I find myself admitting that I don't know what side of this earthly election I should stand on. I compare what I see and hear on all of the cable channels and find every single one of them lacking...

                                      Do I vote for someone that is anti abortion, who coldly turns away starving and victimized children? Do I align myself with those who would help the poor, but may turn out to be terrible stewards of our countries assets? Someone who supports on demand abortion?

                                Or someone politically qualified, but having no respect or trust from the military they would command?

                                      How does a Christian approach such a debacle?

                               Do we climb into our pristine bubbles and ignore our civic responsibility, abstaining from the entire circus? 

                                                                    Can we?

                                                             Can we, please???

                                                                I'm thinking not...

                                               What I find myself looking for in all of these candidates, is the kind of humility that would leave them open to hearing a whispering God.

                                      I'm not looking for strength or unbridled arrogance; not back room savvy or a warriors might. All I am looking for is a person that may have a smidgen of doubt about the illusion of their own infallibility...

                                       Still teachable, I think are the words I'm looking for...     

                                           Maybe I'm just looking for the one with the best heart. The one who empathizes and advocates for the people that Jesus did, when He walked this little round ball...

                                       I'm guessing that is pretty naive, in a world like this; years ago, I would have laughed at anyone using such considerations. Today, not so much...

                                            I want to elect somebody reachable.

                          Not by me or by lobbyists. Not even by our populaces culture; simply reachable to an ego crushing Gods nudges and gentle direction...

                                          That's the guy ( or gal ) that I'm looking for...

                                                               I hate politics.

                                                            It gives me no hope. 

                         People though, reachable people, help me to think that maybe we can listen...

                                             Listening precedes understanding.

                                              Understanding precedes Wisdom.

                                                                  Wisdom...

                                       Let's just say this country can surely use that...

                                              

A Grand Dads View...

                                          Had a few interesting moments recently...

                            My middle McMonkey, our little lawyer, came home with a baby to care for. 

                                Not a real baby mind you; but a plastic computerized simulation, of sorts. It cried at different moments and needed to have its diaper changed or be fed or be burped; the most gratifying part of this whole experiment was the fact that my middle bub had to try all three of these responses to get this " baby" to stop screaming, and often, it did not respond logically...

                                                       Much like a real baby.

                                         Whithin moments of the initial cry, Stephen was loudly panicking, asking for help in changing a diaper. I laughed as I repressed the first time I ever had to care for an infant alone, and chose not to remember the complete terror that engulfed me as that door shut and I was left irrevocably and singly responsible for a few hours, with my very own child...

                                             It turns out, as he tersely explained, that I could not assist him, even if I had wanted to. The school had strapped an RFID chipped tamper resistant bracelet on my bubs wrist to insure HE was the only person the baby would respond to...

                                      Quickly he learned to leave the " onesie" unsnapped for easy access of diaper changes. Bent over the carrier and holding a fake bottle, he complained in excessive decibels about how long it took to feed this infant.

         " Did I really take this long to eat ?!? It's been over three minutes"!!!

                              My favorite part was when he was trying to change a diaper and couldn't get the Velcro to stick, while trying get the exact time written down on his log sheet, along with the reason for crying and how he got the baby to stop, all while this plastic doll was wailing...

                                          Baby quiet, logs filled, he went onto his iPad.

                              Moments later the baby was hungry and he tried feeding it with one hand and playing Madden 25 with the other. Eventually he managed to finagle a precarious setup without even the use of duct tape, supporting the bottle on the dolls tummy, so he would not need to handle it himself. 

                                For one instant, he had that look of a proud dad...

                                                 Been there, done that.

                              

                            Baby quiet for another hour and a half, Stephen began to get spoiled.

                    Soon he was changing and feeding, burping and feeding this silicon minded, baby formed scholastic lesson again...

                          " I hate how it makes that sound when it eats. It drives me crazy"...

                                          I'm thinking " It's eating, not crying and programmed to sleep for over an hour. That is parent heaven"

                                                    But I didn't say that...

                                                          Yes I did...

                    

                       My Wonderful Wife and I eerily reminisced about those long past continuous and successive nights of nearly constant colicky crying, and being completely unable to stop the cause, or even console our cantankerous bundle of discontent. We looked into each other's eyes and saw the relief that those days are gone and done, and that somehow, together we all made it thru...

                       As we turned our heads back towards present day parenting, for one brief moment, we caught sight of each other's eyes again. It was nearly imperceptible , but it was there, in both of us....

                                    An inexplicable and strange sadness of missing it...

                                Somewhere between The Big Bang Theory and NCIS, my son did something out of character. He picked up the baby, cradled it in his arms and fed it like a regular person would...

          He ignored the programmed feeding sounds and for twenty or thirty minutes looked like any dad might, sitting in a recliner, feeding his baby and watching TV... 

                              

                                               This time, I didn't say anything.

                             This in no way adequately prepares teens for raising children. I could, and did recite a litany of issues, like the doll only reacts from 3:00 pm to 10:00 pm, will quiet down after being fed, burped and changed and no one has to deal with projectile vomit or explosive poo...

                              The fact is, nothing can prepare anyone for taking care of a child. It is by nature, sink or swim, a pool filled with infinite screw ups and virtually no guarantees.

                                              Actually, there is only one guarantee...

                       Sometimes you are going to mess it up. Sometimes, and probably often...

                                         

                                           You bumble on forward, simply trying...

                         

                                  Anybody, any book or talk show host that says diffently is either lying or just trying to make a quick buck. We read all the books, saw all the doctors and tried every single suggestion that would not put either us, or our children into harms way...

                                          

                                         The problem is that babies do not listen, pay attention to, or even acknowledge any of these " experts".

                                        The real ones, much like the fake ones, have their own programming. 

               Not only do you not get the manual, but you are not even informed of the "programming language" they have been indoctrinated in. It is entirely up to you to " figure them out", how they like to be held, the speed they want to be rocked and what foods, from day to day and meal to meal, that they will choose to eat...

                            By no illusion am I thinking this little experiment has remotely taught my McMonkey about the finer insanities of raising infants...

                                       But for a few moments, I did see him contentedly cradling a fake baby in his arm, feeding non existent formula, while distractingly watching TV , like a real dad.

                                         

                                                         That was kind of neat...

           

                                   

" Can't fix that"...

                             It was about ten days after my shoulder surgery, and I was sitting in an initial PT evaluation. My Wonderful Wife had driven me to the appointment and joined us, as the therapist started wrangling my appendage connected directly to the offending shoulder. 

                                   He rolled over a cart carrying an ancient TENS unit, explaining that he would be attaching the electrodes and electrically stimulate the muscles affected. " Neat" I said, " I finally get to be tazed ". He laughed a little, as he attached an ice pack over the electrodes. " Not quite" he replied, as my honey gave me that " Can you just act normal for once?" look...

                                                                 Yeh, right....

                                    He wraps a Velcro strap around my chest to hold the ice packs in place, then starts fiddling with buttons and dials on the console. " This worked the other day... " he mumbles. 

    "I always have problems with this one... This isn't right, those numbers shouldn't be flashing" he troubledly states...

                               All of the sudden, I start shaking, convulsing and clenching my teeth. Mare's eyes grow as large as saucers and the color drains from her face as she reaches toward me in a panic...

                                                   Until I start laughing...

                         I laughed so hard and so loud that the Velcro strap ripped apart and the ice packs fell off of me, onto the floor. " You are an idiot" she says much louder than she intended , moving to whack me on my arm, but stopping in mid- whap, remembering it is my bad arm facing her...

                                          I'm still laughing as the therapist bends down, confused over the debacle that just transpired behind his back. Mare shakes her head as he asks what happened, biting her lip, and I attempt to explain thru unrestrained fits of laughter and giggles, that I freaked her out by pretending to be shocked...

                                               He wasn't nearly as amused as I was.

                             He may have been even less amused than my Wonderful Wife was...

                                                    No, she was definitely less amused...

                                            

                                    He gets the zappers working, tingling my shoulder and then decides to exit the room, leaving us alone.

                          I look over into her beautiful eyes, but catch her steely, unamused gaze...

                 " You can really be an idiot, sometimes. I love you, but really, sometimes you are just an idiot. I'm not kidding. It is not funny, and it can be really annoying "

                                I start to stutter and stammer that she knew that when she married me, but she cut me off in mid sentence.

                                    " I know this is how you are" she says, as her face slowly softens. Her eyes relax a bit and get that gentle twinkle I have become accustomed to, these last fifteen years. She takes a long, deep breath and slowly smiles. " I know your not going to change, but I had to say this and make sure that you heard me. You can be an idiot and sometimes, it really drives me crazy"...

                                         With that, she softly touches my forearm, closes her eyes for a moment, while gently shaking her head and smiles, more out of exasperation than humor..

                                                            

                                                                   I love my Wife...

                                                            She must really love me...

                                    

                                   I smile writing this, as I begin to comprehend that none of this stuff is in the wedding vows. Nowhere is a clause that says I will love you even when you are a blooming idiot. No one ever mentions the stuff like that...

                       Sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, they make sure gets spoken, but that part about being driven crazy, often, by traits that will never change in your perspective spouse doesn't even get a quick gloss over.

                          Maybe it's because no one would believe it? Maybe because in the very beginning, we hide that secret hope that we really can change those things in our spouses, at least just a little?

                                     I absolutely, irrevocably, adore my Wonderful Wife and would do most anything under the sun, in my capabilities, to make her comfortable and happy...

                                                But I am still an idiot, sometimes.

                                   No matter how much I try, that fact will never, ever change.

                                        I am so blessed to have a woman who gets that that this is just part of my package. I certainly have changed in these past fifteen years or so, and much of the need for those changes that have taken place were pointed out, gently by her...

                             You do that, both of those things, when you love someone...

                      You change, and sometimes you also guide the one you love, to do that too...

                                                      It's kinda cool, that way..

                                          But you do see those things that are intrinsic in their DNA that will never change, idiosyncrasies definitive of their unique being, that are pretty much eternal...

                                                    And you love them anyway.

                                               I'm not even sure if it's a choice...

                                                                 But you do.

                                                                 And they do.

                                                       It is pretty cool, that way...

It is all Grace...

                             Earlier this evening I wrote multiple pages for a post, a run on diatribe of judgement and condemnation of Stone Age buracracy.

                               My youngest son has inherited a learning disability from me. My Wonderful Wife and I, along with two very wonderful and amazing relatives, have been trying to get his school to identify, acknowledge and assist him with modifications to help " level out the playing field", educationally.

                        All our meetings culminated in a large committee meeting today with the EXACT same replies from special Ed experts, school psychologist and buracratic administrators that I heard nearly verbatim, over forty years ago...

                           The exact same issues, the exact same replies, in the exact same school...

                                  

                                                           It is all Grace.

                                        I spent large segments of my life resentful of scholastic institutions, biased to the extreme. I often wondered why God layed that particular burden on me at that age, stacked upon multiple others I also did not like or understand...

           A few months ago, my little tornado of a McMonkey saw a specialist who both interned and co worked with the doctor who diagnosed and treated me.

                                                         Deja vu in multiples..

                                           He has what I had. What I still have...

               The funny thing is, on the way home from that appointment,  I looked at my Wonderful Wife with a small lump in my throat. I told her that I finally got it, I finally understood the " why"...

 

                                                             It is all Grace.

                                                  

                                               I went down this exact same road that his growing little feet are beginning to skip and bobble down. He is a pretty well adjusted, happy go lucky, friendly and sociable child. Surrounded by an awesome support system of an Amazing Mom who experienced positive situations  in the scholastic arena and many family members gifted in advocating for children with similar challenges, he is blessed.

                                       He will get the assistance he needs...

                                

                                      He has a teacher that cares enough to work with him above and beyond what is officially required. Although I disagree from her assessment and grading style, I must admit that she is legitimately committed to her students and has done much more for him than any other person in that entire school system. I'm thinking she just may be as frustrated with a system that will only officially assist students in states of failure while ignoring needs of the " strugglers" and those " just getting by", as all the other people actively advocating for my child...

                                                                It is all Grace.

                                                    

                                               The committee is a challenge....

                               I want to label the psychologist as a condescending twit...

                                                        I really, really want to...

                                                                     but...

                                      I have to realize that he simply is not ready yet. He is in a place where he is still thinking his tests are the be-all and end-all, truly believing  that he is completely correct, a victim of his own youthful hubris .

                                                            It is all Grace...

                                

                                        Eventually, by nature, hubris demands it's due..

                      I have stood exactly how he stands today, albeit on completely different issues.

                         Trading being right in my own limited box, for an uncomfortable humility that came from consequences others had to pay for my mistakes and well intentioned failures... 

                               You can't get that lesson from any book or standardized tests answer sheet...

                        Just young and lacking experience in the waters he is presently wading...

                                   He will be Graced by this, or something much like it, along the way, and will eventually become more receptive to solutions outside boundaries of archaic systems and self inflicted constraints.

                                                            I hope so, anyway...

                                                                 It is all Grace.

                             Many parents watching their children go thru painful struggles, pray a quiet prayer offering to take the pains that their child is in, on themselves,  bargaining for a chance to go thru the anguish and struggle for them...

                                    A little over forty years ago,  I was blessed to have done that, for my youngest child...

                                                              I get the " why "...

                                                                It is all Grace...

                                           

                                               I know and can assure him that this struggle is really just a wiggle and that the little bit of crazy that comes with it is no big deal or reflection on his worth...

                                 His Mom and I can deflect the majority of damage, coming soon from the judgmental and Ill-informed teachers that are inevitably down the path for him, that willfully will choose to remain ignorant and dismissive of his diagnosis.

                                   We can convince him, in no uncertain terms,  that it is not him who is, or who has the problem...

                                          

                                                              It is all Grace.

                                                              

                   So I deleted the multiple page diatribe I originally wrote this afternoon. I chose to see all the good an Amazing God can do, if I don't choose that path of judgement and condemnation...

                                  Like I said, I took that road a very long time ago.

                                                      I didn't like where it led...

                                                               It is all Grace...

                                      

                                       

                                              

Happens every time...

                            My Wonderful Wife returned from working out and fed our grand lizard Jason.

       This is kind of a big deal, because he's been hibernating for over two months and just recently started basking under his heat lamp again.

                                                    He ate two crickets.

                      With a couple hours to kill, sans kids, I suggested after she showered that we take advantage of the time and watch an adult movie...

                                          No, not THAT kind of adult movie...

                                                      

                                                            Les Miserable 

                                          

                                           The Hugh Jackman, Anne Hathaway musical...

                                      I don't know why, but this is just one of those shows that we can watch a hundred times and still be mesmerized, every single time.

                                       I shared before that the vice principal of our school, who happened to be teaching eighth grade English one of the times I was taking it,  gave me the book to read.

                   We fought. He insisted, promising me I would relate and not be able to stop without finishing it...

                                              Short story long, he was right.

                         So the kids come home and shake their heads- " Les Miserable " they say, hiding their smirks. Quietly they grab their devices, headsets and play their games...

                        Across the room, the Wonderful Wife tears up as I hold my breath, close my eye lids  and try to will the water to re-absorb back into my corneas.

                                                   It happens every time...

                                 

Stigma...

                                                     Go and sin no more...

                                                  How you doing with that?

                                                            Honestly...

                       Can you raise your hand that you've actually accomplished it?

                                                             Me neither.

                                                       I was bored once.

                             I wound up drawing stripes on my shirt in a self portrait for the school psychologist and colored in bars, in front of me. I didn't like being ignored and bored, even in the fifth grade, and instinctively knew how to mess with the shrinks head...

                                              I think I shared that before...

                                   It worked well. He didn't know whether to wind his watch or have me committed. The choice became remarkably easier when I laughed and told him he should have known better... I was only joking, my dear...

                                                  At work once, I was put in the tool cage, signing parts out to the other mechanics. Bored, I took pipe fittings, assorted springs and filed down thoriated tungsten from the Tig welding kit and began assembling a " zip" gun. My boss turned the corner, looked at the pieces laid out along the desk, with the ram set 22 loads I'd taken from the fastening system we used to secure electrical boxes thru 1/2" steel, and nearly had a coronary, on the spot...

                        Needles to say, that was the last time I ever got cage duty...

                   

                    Bored and alone, historically does not usually precede my finest hours...

                               

                       In a matter of days, I will be getting surgery on my shoulder. The funny thing is, this is the first injury in my life that I didn't directly cause by my own innatentivity or stupidity.

                                  Now that is a strange feeling. Every scar, every broken bone and lingering ache and pain, until this very moment in time, can all be directly correlated to crazy dares and reckless boredom.

                                                             All of them. 

                                                                   100%. 

                                         Absolutely no variation from that pattern...

                                                           

                                                           Not this one...

                                   

                           In a few days, I will be extremely limited in some of my physical capabilities. There will be large sections of time that I will be alone in my house, for the next few months...

                                                         Bored and alone...

                                 The problem with all that is that I still struggle with porn.

                                              

                                                Not always, not often, but still...

                             I think I've shared that once or twice before, in the past...

                                                      That is my stigma.

                                            And bored and alone are my triggers....

                                                      I'm sort of terrified...

                                   I meet with people who I share progress and failure; I've met with Pastors both alone and with my Wonderful Wife dealing with this exact issue, over the past decade...

                    Shared about it in appropriate small groups and weekend men's advances.

                                I pray, and try to set up situations that will allow me to remain successful in my attempt to not be tempted...

                                 I repent, study Gods word, turn away and double down all efforts, but not being Gods only Perfect Son, I eventually fail.

                                                        My volition is not sufficient....

                                      So I relate to some of those other pariahs, that are not able to shake their personal demons completely and are experiencing one ( or more) of those quiet, corporately stigmatized sin...

                           I would hit  The Staples EASY button any day of the week, to be rid of it...

                                                 I doubt I'm alone or unique in that.

                       

                      If Jesus chose to throw that stone, that day, long ago, I can guarantee you that he would still be throwing them today, and not one of us, would he miss...

                                    

                                     

                                     

                                    It's funny how Christians deal with other people's sins.

                                 We sit around in discussion groups reading Scriptures that leaves no possible gray area about the impossibility of God being able to see difference in sin; that they are all equal in His eyes...

                         Our best works, our best behaviors are dirty rags, in His sight...

                                 But the fact is, most of that is pure lip service.

                   Theoretically it is believed, but watch one person openly struggle and fail, try and fail again with one of those " stigmatized" sins and observe the looks in the eyes of those failing in other more respectable areas, standing righteous in their ignorance...

                          

                                       I'm getting into trouble on this one.....

                                  

                     But let's for this one moment in time, get off our lofty clouded perches and acknowledge the difference in reactions congregations have to someone " fudging" their taxes or indulging in a little too many holiday cookies, or a few too much " Christmas cheer", from stigmatized, darker sins like homosexuality, adultery, pre marital sex and porn. 

                                                 Not a complete list, by far...

                                                

                                               Please be honest on this one.

                                                               Please...

                      I have yet to see anyone lose Church membership for unrepentant and repeated gluttony binges. I have yet to witness members who cannot permanently drop the spirit of self righteousness, expelled...

                                 But sexual sins, they are different, especially when publicly known.

                           Heaven forbid if Christians struggle with sexual sin and people find out...

                                              So we corporately reinforce the stigmas...

                                   Then wonder why no one is forthcoming in repentance...

                                          

                                         I think about the stigmas Christ dealt with. 

                  Adulterers, caught in the act, breaking both God and mans law, fully deserving justice.

                          Touching lepers and unclean, healing on the Sabbath and purposely and unapologetically ignoring kosher requirements, inspired by God...

                                   It's not what goes into the mouth that makes us unclean...

                                         What comes out though, does that just fine.

                                          He was not threatened by " stigma", He knew along with everything else, he had power over that, too...

                             By making us new creatures in Christ, he removed all stigma, as He made us white as snow, knowing full well our incapability to keep ourselves clean and our inborn propensity to fall back, into sin.

                His Blood, His Empty Tomb were and are the only answer. Not by removing our past, present and future sins, but by paying for them all, in full...

                                                  Stigma is a human foible.

                             We either break it privately and corporately or we enforce it...

                                                               Choose one.

                                     

                                 We must address sin in ourselves and each other.

                                                        That is a given...

                                       But just as we can't pick and choose what Words of God we want to follow, we cannot add more bias or punishment to sins we are personally not fond of...

                                                      We will though, because we do.

                                             No matter what we say, what often exits the heart is

                                                         " Let our will be done"...

                                  When we treat sins differently, that is exactly our prayer...

                                

Winding down to The New Year...

                                             It's been a very good year, filled with its share of speed bumps, a couple of hair pin turns and much more black ice than I would have personally requested...

                             I'm speaking figuratively here, not meteorologically, by the way.            

                                    So, I'm sitting gently back in our old recliner this evening and letting the feelings of the last 365 just engulf me like a babies swaddling blanket, not concentrating as much on the actual events, but resting pleasantly in the warming aura of it all...

                                           Feeling the whipping crystals of ice and snow from last years tubing excursion with the Wonderful Wife and trailing McMonkeys, listening to the exaggerated screams of my youngest, down the biggest hill...

                                          Hearing the cresting waves coming in and thundering as they break on the sand filled shore, whoops of glee from my kids being pulled in with the water, as it returned to the ocean, clutching them momentarily, then releasing all but the fabric of their swim trunks; laughing as they struggle with one hand behind their backs, holding the elastic waistband with all that they have, while simultaneously climbing past the inrushes unstoppable movement back to it's source...

                         Rushing wind and terrified screams coming from myself, free falling what felt like thousands of feet but in reality was only one hundred or so, on the bungee jump thing, at The Great Escape, on my fiftieth birthday... I hear the words of pure unfiltered terror leaving my mouth, words that look like &$@:(, in the comics....

                          I hear the snores in a sleeping bag next to mine, when Jake and I slept out in our tent, in the yard, this summer. I smell the scent of burnt powder and see the look of pride and maturity as my eldest completed his hunter safety course. He is not a hunter and probably never will be one, and is one of the gentlest souls I have met in my half century of life experience....

                    But I remember his smile, on completion; knowing that I trusted him enough to learn safe practices and that I am willing to walk with him forward, to an impending adulthood....

                          I remember the constant squabbles in our car about who got to sit where for how long and the ever present " He breathed on/ leaned on/ touched/ sang at or farted on, me"...

                            I feel the warmth beside me as I wake on work days, before the alarm, knowing my Lovely and Wonderful Wife lies dozing across the bed. I whisper " I love you honey, have a great day" as I tip toe out the room... Every work day...

                       I whisper it to my boys, in the hall, on my way down toward the stairs, head turned toward the directions of my kids rooms. They will never hear it, but I do. I want to be certain that I say those words before I leave, believing at some level they will all feel the emotions that are behind the unheard whispers...

                    I still get haunted by sermons spoken at our Church, many months and often years past;  Challenges that I'm just not up to yet, in my spiritual immaturity , and convictions I have been given, surrounded mostly by my earthly failures...

                             And I recall comfort found in practically all of those sermons, somewhere tucked into the points of contact is a message that it is not our works that we are loved for...

                     And I find the nights of three hour videos exploring so much of what I never knew before, about Gods Word becomes a highlight of my week...

                        I remember moments in the hospital, the smell of sanitizer and the feel of uncomfortable folding chairs, hearing words that both terrified me and broke my heart. I hear myself screaming at my kids to shut up, that I was losing it, watching my mother apparently dying..

                         I remember the feeling of complete failure and utter parental incompetence for being so weak and so afraid that I would speak like that, to the kids I love...

                   And the feel of the tears, both mine and theirs, as I apologized for a memory that goes toward the top of the list, of that daddy debit list. I still see the look of incredulity in my Wonderful Wife's eyes as I refused her hugs, broke free and emotionally hid like an injured animal. Debits in the hubby debit list added, too...

                             I remember relief as my mom got better. Not well, but better...

                                     I feel the hugs almost every night, of my three sons.

                             I have memorized the sound of their joy as they plan jaunts to friends houses or friends coming here. I watch in pride as my Wonderful Wife dives into something her heart is so dedicated to, and find myself envying that feeling of belonging...

                                   I struggle with struggling to get that " belonging thing" down. Most days I bounce between feeling like  a social eunuch or a cautionary tale pariah...

                                   I forget sometimes that all I am is just another child of a Loving God.

                                      My feelings, my perceptions, really don't matter...

                  I look around our living room, the Christmas tree down and decorations put away for another year, a new year. I feel the warmth left over from a family movie night, and think of my kids, my McMonkeys, growing into good men. Through all the failures I'm able to glimpse the Work of an Amazing God that either " fills in the gaps" I leave like canyons, or more often than not, uses those gaps to make these children better by them, in His Love...

                                 But most of what I feel is gratitude and awe.

                   Graced in so much this year, this decade, this lifetime, this eternity....

                            Many earthly challenges are waiting for me on the other side, after that big ball drops. 

                                                    That probably fits us all. 

                              What I need to remember is they are all earthly challenges.

                        And that the solutions to them all are in our Loving Fathers hands, Who is not limited one bit, by earthly constraints...

                                                        Happy New Year...