My eldest daughter and my dad's wife cooked up a visit for all of my clan to meet in Abilene at the farm where I was raised. This is not a small feat. My clan consists of 3 kids, 3 kids-in-law, 4 grandkids and my bride. It can seem like a traveling circus. There is plenty of room at the old place, my youngest daughter spearheaded the food planning, and we were off to the races.
It was a weekend in which I got to enjoy all the people that mean the most to me. As we stood around the dinner table at lunch on Sunday, all holding hands while my dad prayed, it occurred to me that this is the group that I spend most of MY time praying over. This band of 14 covers 4 generations, various life situations, and garners most of the sense of accomplishment that I have in my life.
The really nice thing is that I got to spend some real time with each of my grandkids, specifically getting to bind us closer with each moment.
Eli and I both brought our golf clubs. We play a short par-3 course (however, we seem to only play 8 holes due to an attention span issue) We do not keep score, but we do a lot of negotiating during the round. I have a standing deal with him, if he hits onto the green on his first shot from the tee, I pay him a dollar. The negotiating comes in when he hits it close..not on. So I added a variation. If he one-putts, then he earns another dollar. As soon as we struck that deal he rolled one in from 10' away. Really? Where was the hockey like action from the previous 6 holes?!? Apparently sandbagging is a naturally occurring tendency. But we got to spend a couple of hours just the two of us, walking, playing, laughing..it was the best medicine.
Phoebe coughed all through the night sleeping on her pallet at the foot of my bed. So around midnight I washed off her face and moved her up on the bed with me. Several times I woke up to her wriggling, but asleep. She is a live wire when awake, but she is the sweetest, snuggliest thing when asleep. So when we woke up, it was a very long conversation about Disney princesses, where she has vast knowledge and I have none, but the conversation was great fun.
Lincoln and I explored the barn and shed. We walked down to the edge of the field and looked at the creek. He explored and inspected everything. He is an old man in the way he walks and inspects things which cracks me up. He stands there, little chubby hands hooked in his pockets, head tilted forward just like an old man at a construction site. We walked and talked and explored.
Then I got to hold Isaac during church. We played and chewed on the bulletin, and he would just stare during the song service. Of particular interest was the "prayer card" in the seat back holder. After being chewed and slobbered on his mother took it away from us, not allowing us to put it back in the holder. What is that all about? I'm pretty sure it would dry before next Sunday. He did great in church, probably better than I.
But I spent the weekend trying to soak up time with my dad and the farm. The farm will soon pass from our family and it feels like some part of my family is passing from me. Dad can't handle the work load anymore and they need to move into town. So I spent some portion of every morning and evening looking out across the back fence remembering as many of the times spent there as possible. At the same time I was trying to soak up time with Dad. I wish his integrity and good humor came more naturally to me. Each moment I was wishing that I could reach out my hands and hold back time for just a little while, to hold my memories in place for a moment. But I know that time marches inexorably forward, ignoring my pleas, nudging me along against my will. I want to be able to set my pack to the ground at this moment in my journey, but it seems that there is no place to rest, no place to stop. There was a sense of trying to hold back a stream of water with only my hands..it simply washed over me and rushed on.
The clock keeps ticking. It makes me sad and grateful. Sad that the constant ticking means this world will change in unforgivable ways. Grateful for the memories that make me who I am. We are the sum of our decisions and memories. So I spent as much time with Dad as I could, laughing, kidding each other, just soaking it in. And I split time with my grandkids, imprinting on them memories that will be woven into the fabric of who they will become. Tick, tick ,tick...
Godspeed, the journey is a good one with an inevitable end. But, man, what memories that journey creates.
Don
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