Irony Upon Irony

We discussed a little two-fold irony this morning. You would benefit from knowing the two bases of this wonderment.

First, when my son, Justin, and his wife, Alex, visit us, I always insist that they park their car in our driveway. Things seem to be quiet these days, but several years ago, there were problems all around town with vandals randomly driving a neighborhood and shooting out car windows. Happily, police believe that they’ve apprehended this band of hoodlums. Still, I think it’s a good idea for all cars to be parked away from the street.

Second, I recently bought a vehicle with a back-up camera. When I slide the transmission into reverse, I get the beep-beep-beep of a large truck and a video image jumps to life on my dashboard. While the owner’s manual urges you to check your backward progress via conventional techniques like rear view mirrors and just by turning around, the cameras are seen as a great deterrent to potential accidents when objects or even people have crept into your path.

You know where this is going, don’t you?

This morning, heading out to the bank, I left Nancy, Justin, and Alex inside finishing breakfast. I put my car in gear and ever so slowly began to ease out of the garage. I noticed Justin’s car and even noted that he had done a good job of pulling it far forward and away from the garage. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, I continued to back out. Somewhere in that journey, I noticed my lawn and the lawn of my neighbor and thought, “I really need to mow my lawn.”

It was about that time that my car suddenly quit moving and I could see my son’s car rocking wildly behind me. I got out. Luckily there was no additional damage to either car.

Oh, I did say “additional.” Seems this is the second time I’ve done this. I know that lessons are supposed to be learned from things like this. I suppose I was going for extra credit.

At some point in your life, you just have to give up and let irony rain down on you. For it seems that most irony is a product of our own inattention to what happens around us.

Expected Turns

As I’ve contemplated the closing moments of this year, I’ve tried to imagine what this past 12 months would have been like without friends and family. All in all, it wasn’t such a bad year. Yet how miserable it would have been without people who care around me.

Today I heard a couple of unrelated stories about people who have had to face adversity and who felt they had no one to turn to. What a terrifying existence!

I hope that you will be someone who others can and will turn to. And that you will discover those to whom you can turn. No matter who you are, you truly need hope around every turn.

Take some expected turns in this new year.

Taking Care of Business

Twice this last weekend, I selected a seat in Cullen Auditorium that would give me the greatest vantage point for watching our church children’s musical. For most of the last twenty years, talented, dedicated adults have focused a good portion of their autumn lives on selecting, rehearsing and producing these extravaganzas with our little ones. I applaud them — not with the tongue-in-cheek attitude of “they should be blessed because they’ve had to deal with all those kids.” No, I applaud them because of the incredible ministry they have.

The purpose of the annual event is to allow our children to tell the story of Jesus. And they do that with passion and ability that far surpasses their few years. But another reason for the musical is for these wonderful adults to tell the story of Jesus to these kids through the everyday business of a Christmas program.

During the first matinee, I videotaped the close-up performance of my granddaughter. Sure, there was a larger story — and an official DVD being shot with a wider lens — but my focus was Landrye. I was thrilled to watch her give serious attention to the cues from the directors and to carefully do her part. She really took care of business.

But what brought me to tears, both at the performance and as I sat editing the video that night, was watching her sing, “Tell Me the Story of Jesus.” I don’t know what she may face in her life — what challenges, what opportunities, what sadness, what opportunities. But I know that her song — her request — to hear about Jesus is and will be the most important business she can ever be about.

When she sang, it was if she were singing to me. I just hope that I can take care of business. I pray that, to my dying breath, I can tell her the story of Jesus.

Net Gain of Three

Last Thanksgiving was a banner year. For a number of years, we have hosted some family for the traditional feast. But last year was a big one. Schedules were rearranged that allowed both my wife’s sister’s family and most of her brother’s family to join us. At the end of the day, seventeen folks had been fed, joined in great conversation, and watched a little football. We even got everyone up to the (then) new Jacob’s Dream sculpture on campus.

One of the surprises last year was in the dog category. We have a little mix breed — 12 years old at the time. Our son brought his lab-beagle mix. Our other son brought the miniature poodle. My brother-in-law brought a dachshund and his sister matched with another of the same breed. And our niece added a pit-bull puppy.

Now, you need to understand that Nancy and I aren’t big “dog-in-the-house” people. Our little Snoopy makes it in daily for a few hours of napping in her bed. And occasionally she stays in the utility room on cold nights. And Ben, the miniature poodle, is another exception. He often comes with our granddaughter for play days. He doesn’t fair well outside. Fundamentally, he doesn’t understand the concept of being a dog. So Nancy and I have adjusted.

But last Thanksgiving was a new experience. Lots of people and, whenever the back door opened, lots of dogs were all over the house. Snoopy, the grand dame of the group, stayed in the utility room — away from the pitter-patter of big and little feet.

All in all, we did pretty well until “the incident.” As dogs will do, one of our canine guests left a gift in the dining room. Upon its discovery and the sudden spurt of cleaning action that followed by Nancy and my brother-in-law, dog owners quickly emptied the house and stood in the back yard, talking in low tones and wondering how much trouble they were in.

Well, we got past “the incident” with no lasting carpet stain and no animal sacrifice.

Later in the weekend, I told Nancy she should just explain that next year, the invitation to Thanksgiving didn’t extend to animals. Yet, Nancy didn’t want anything to be a barrier to family attendance on a special day. She said nothing.

Yesterday morning, as guests began to arrive, my hopes fell. The pit bull didn’t come this year, but we added another dachshund and a lab. And to be truthful, there really weren’t any options. All of these good people were traveling over an extended schedule. And, let’s face it, dogs need to be cared for.

On the people side, we lost one non-family guest, but we added my niece, her husband, and her baby boy.

One dog up from last year. Two people. A net gain of three.

What a wonderful day! Our 10% chance of snow “sometime on Friday after Thanksgiving” began to fall about noon on Thanksgiving. By 4 p.m. and the goodbyes to most of the family, several inches of the white stuff clung to branches and grass and the street was slushy.

Dogs were more closely monitored — no incident. Baby was doted over and loved. Family bonded as they told stories and laughed. And I had several precious minutes with my 6 year old Landrye in my arms.

And, after all were gone and additional clean-up accomplished, Nancy and I sat down with our Austin kids, Justin and Alex, ate leftovers, talked and watched videos.

All in all, the day can be judged in a net gain of three. However, the true value for me can’t be measured.