Real life

Lies, or stories, whichever you want to call them are hard to maintain. Sometimes life gets in the way of fantasy and one just does not have the energy to keep up the charade. On that note I will abandon this tale of far off travel and return to the real world of my life here in wonderful cold, rainy, snowy, dreary Ohio. Can't you just feel the enthusiasm?

So many things to do that I really don't want to do. A funeral of the son of an ex-co-worker to go to today and the viewing Sunday and funeral Monday of my sister-in-laws brother.

The coworkers son was 24 and killed in a car accident and my sister-in-laws brother was 30 and died from an infection picked up somehow during a routine hernia operation. I say routine. Is it routine anytime someone cuts the body open and moves things around inside? I think we have reached that point somehow where that is our view.

Two young men. I've got 20 years on one and 14 on the other. Both of them active and sports oriented. Me? I live a fairly sedentary life, and yet I still toddle on, doing my thing. It was close last year, sure, but I guess I really didn't let that sink in. I am not 24 anymore. Neither am I 30. I am, statistically, on the down hill side of middle age. Why then do I still feel as though my life is still just beginning. I've seen the t-shirts that say "I may grow old but I refuse to grow up" and sometimes I think this has become my personal mantra. Both of these men enjoyed life, as far as I could see. One was an advocate for transplants, and those that deal with that particular issue, and the other built custom motorcycles. They took what time they had and enjoyed it. I should do the same.

Kyle, my sister-in-laws brother, had a relationship with God and therefore a hope for more after this life. The other young man, I do not know what his beliefs were. Personally, I believe that this world is not enough. I personally need the hope that there is more than what we see here and so I hope for a life eternal. Some do some don't. This is not my pulpit. This is my armchair. This is where I share with those who care to share. I hope that there is rest from the ugliness I see here. I hope there is a clearer image of the beauty I see here. I hope I do not have to say "I am sorry for your loss" one more time after this weekend. I am sure that will not be the case, but I can hope.

Unless I leave this world fairly soon, I imagine that I will say those words again. God, I hate those words. They are never enough. So I think of what I can do. I remember the story of a man who's friend had lost a young child to death. At a loss for words of comfort, he went to his friends house the morning of the funeral and shined all the family member's shoes. One less thing for them to need to worry about. I guess that's the attitude I want to have. Men tend to think they need to do something and so we look for that opening. I'm a man and so I will not fight against my nature. What can I do to help? Is it shining shoes, taking care of the children, washing dishes, driving family members here and there? Let me do something to help.

Remember the story of Job in the bible? The devil has a bet with God that he can get Job to curse God and God takes him up on it. Job loses everything except his wife. During his mourning 3 friends come to visit him. A lot of attention has been given in sermons of the words that these 3 friends spoke. One thing that struck me when I read this story is that when these 3 friends came to Job they didn't say anything for SEVEN days! For seven days they sat with their friend and kept quiet and just let him know that they were mourning with him. I think this was the smartest thing they did. Ah, but then they had to start talking and screwed it all up. Us men, we want to fix it. Sometimes we can't fix it and sometimes we shouldn't even try. My wife doesn't always want to hear what I think she should do different to solve her problems. Sometimes my wife wants me to shut up and listen to her vent her frustrations. That took a long time for me to learn. But learn it I did. I forget sometimes, but they are fewer than they used to be.

And so I end on a more positive note. Our foster boy is one step closer, as of yesterday, to becoming a full-fledged member of our family. He would be child number 4 for us and this is something that he would like, or so he says right now. When asked by his case worker if he would want me and my wife to adopt him, he looked at her and said, "Yes, but then that means they can spank me." His case worker laughed and my wife gave her evil witches cackle while rubbing her hands together saying "It's been such a long time since I spanked a little boys bottom." If you know my wife you see the humor. If you don't, trust me, it's there. Speaking of the little man, here he comes, singing his alphabet. He sure is a morning person. I'd hate to see him when he starts drinking coffee.