Best Dream Ever...

You know those dreams that seem so real, bit while they are going on, a little part of your brain tells you,“This is a dream. Enjoy this dream. Let yourself get lost in this dream, because you are really going to have fun!”? Yeah. Had one of those last night.

Synopsis:
Candace and I are at a state fair/theme park/some venue of sorts with the Little Ones (who, although they are the only ones with us, are actually little, like when Aidan & Michaela were in 7th & 8th grade). Everyone lis heading into an arena to watch some “presentation”, and Candace goes in with Saryn (reminder: Little Saryn, as in, being carried by mom little Saryn), but Ror seems to have become separated from the others. I ask a security dude if he has seen my boy. He is too busy enjoying the fly-bys from these unmarked aircraft to say anything of value except, “Dude! Are you seeing this!” Explosions begin occurring directly in front of us. I press him for the whereabouts of my son, and he provides a vague answer; either my son is in a place of relative safety, or he has just moved to the place of doom in front of us. Then, a suspicious humvee-like vehicle pulls up, and tries to force its way through the crowd, going in the (potential) direction of my missing son. I try to talk to the driver, but immediately sense that this is not a good guy to whom I am speaking. In fact, something is now terribly, obviously wrong with this driver and his vehicle (It’s a dream... work with me on this!). I pick up a sledge hammer, which just so happens to be conveniently leaning against the security post building, and pond its head through the rear window of the humvee. The driver looks up at me through the rear view mirror, and draws a side arm from its holster and begins shooting at me. Stray shots kill the security guard, and I manage to evade being in the direct line of fire.

And then it happened...
I extend my hands in that certain-sort-of-way, and ping-ping-ping!!! I have the forearm and gloves of an Iron Man suit on, and the repulser rays are charged and engaged. BAM! I blow a hole though the humvee and incapacitate the driver. More aircraft fly overhead, explosions detonate around us, people are now screaming, fully aware that this is not a part of the day’s entertainment. “I need the rest of it, NOW!” I announce to no one in particular (implying that the rest of the suit needs to be attaching itself to me ASAP).

“Do you have any cash in your wallet?” What? This is not part of the dream! This is my wife talking to me, as she readies to leave the house to run a 10k. “uh, yeah... check my wallet,” I respond groggily. Try as can, I am unable to return to the dream.

I didn’t even get to fly.

Juxtaposition...

What a week. That says it all, and says nothing. So much to say, so many inadequate words to use.

Highlights:

• I got to dance with a Brown-Eyed Girl.
• I watched my beautiful Bride dance with her oldest. It conjured up memories of watching them dance together in our apartment in Elk Rapids when he was an infant, and she looked as young then as she does now. She led the dance back then. It was good to see him lead his mother, my Beloved, at his wedding. The look in his eyes was all that I needed to see. She taught you how to love a woman, son. I hope your Bride appreciates that.
• I saw my son lose his breath and weep with joy at the entrance of his own Bride. She was beautiful, beautiful INDEED! I saw the same look in his eyes that is in my own, each time I see his mother. I taught you that, son. I hope your Bride appreciates that.... Wait. It was The Lord who taught us that, son. She will appreciate that. Always.
• I experienced watching my youngest represent his brother and his family well... Very well, indeed!
• I danced with my wife... twice. We need to do this more often. We need to do this like we believe that dancing is a celebration of this beautiful life that we have been gifted with. The praxis and the axiology need to be in alignment.
• That was some amazing food at the reception! Really, really good.

Looking forward to pictures of the Bride and Groom. I'll share when I get any.

One More for the Journey...

She taught you how to dance before you could even walk. She would take you up in her arms and hum a soft tune for only your ears and hers to hear, and cheek to cheek you would both sway to the beat of each other’s hearts. For nine whole months she carried you in her womb as you learned her rhythm; the gift from God to two kids scared out of their minds with the task before them. The warmth of the household…

I taught you to laugh. It was clearly in you from the beginning, just waiting for an opportunity to burst forth. When it did, it sounded like a symphony of joy played in two strings. I will never forget the sound of your infant laughter. I will never forget how you used to run to me when I came home, your little feet padding away on the hardwood floor, while you urged the walker forward, oblivious to whatever obstacle that might be between us. When I would take you up in my arms, there was still plenty of dance left in you. We danced, too, you and me. The warmth of the household…

We were both there for your first steps, your first word, your first meal where you fed yourself. We have watched you grow in wisdom and in stature, and have been a part of almost every aspect of your life. We fueled your interest in music as we kept the cd player on in almost constant loop. When your interests turned to sports, we provided the opportunities and shared in the experience. When you encountered frustration, and were tempted to quit, we rallied around you and encouraged you to push through, preserver, and overcome the obstacle; it would make you a better man. The warmth of the household…

When you boarded the plane for Chicago to begin the quest for finding the college of your choice, we sent you out with a mix of pride and trepidation. We were proud that you were forging out with big plans to a big city all on your own. Our trepidation was for the same reasons that people thought we were crazy in allowing you to go by yourself.

Many times I wondered if I was doing it right, this parenting thing. You, like every other child ever born, did not come with an instruction book. But like most, I did the best I could. My mistakes were often quite obvious, and some of them have consequences still. For every time I said too much, there is a time I said too little. That delicate balance between instructing and micromanaging.

Now you have reached the time where I feel your heart has decided that you don’t need me anymore. I know this is just another stage in the parenting thing; but it is possibly the most difficult stage I have faced yet. Letting go of you, and realizing that you aren't coming back anytime soon. It brings me to tears every time I think about it.