Power

I am delighted to report that the late update this week from TMFKATB is not my fault (nor is it the fault of our nation's passenger rail provider, upon whom I have rightly foisted the blame in the past). No, due to a change in schedules, his weekly day off, or P-Day in mission vernacular, was changed to today. If there was one word I could use the describe this week's update, it would be 'power.'

He talked about the power of seeing a husband baptize his wife. He spoke about the power of prayer. At twenty years old, to have personal experiences that cement your witness of prayer and its power is one of those things that helps to anchor you for life. His comments reminded me how I could be more effective in my prayers. I think that sometimes they are not getting past my ceiling and that's on me. Prayer is a leap of faith and there are times when I need to jump a little higher. I recognize that for some of the Den-izens, prayer is not your thing. I just appreciate the fact that you can indulge me in this little space on the interwebs. He also talked about the power of good examples. Those examples are making a difference for him as he progresses during his mission service. I'm grateful for that.

I'm glad that he's somewhat insulated as he serves from the craptastic examples of our nation's politicians (um, Congress, #DoYourJob) and one racist, violence-inciting, habitual lying presidential candidate. Yeah, those examples...I am profoundly ungrateful. But that's another post.

Into The Cap

The Cap

Evidence of Russian handiwork
from Dad's cap

In the six years since my father died, in each of those successive years my mother has made it clear that she is ready to go. She is, so far, zero for six in her predictions, but this year she's taken things to a new level - think DefCon 4. We've had A LOT of super fun conversations (essentially every other one) about her "going over the rainbow." Spoiler alert - that is not a thinly-veiled reference to "The Wizard of Oz," but it is this year's euphemism for death. She has coupled these 'rainbow' conversations with items that she has decided to unload.

A few days ago, we got a box large enough to comfortably smuggle ship a couple of Bangladeshi sweatshop workers delivered to our home. One of the items included was a hat, a cap really, that my late father wore while he and my mother served in the Moscow Russia Mission for the Church. They were there working for Church Legal, where my dad was focused on ensuring contracts and transactions were fully legal (no small task in Russia where what is legal is, um, how do you say, highly interpretive). Dad would wear a cap to cover his bald dome in those brutal Russian winters. The one Mom sent me was one they had purchased there. The pictures I took of the real one were lame and didn't do it justice, so what I included at the top of the post is one I got from an online Russian hat store (seriously, it's a thing). Anything associated with Russia on the Interwebs makes me all kinds of nervous (e.g. hackers, little Eddie Snowden, sweaty mobsters in a Leningrad flat phishing for your credit card number) so I didn't spend a lot of time on the site trying to find a perfect match for the cap I now own. But I digress...

I tried the cap on and as with all things hats and me, it went horribly wrong. I do not have a head for hats of any kind. If you've seen a picture of me in any hat, you know I'm not lying. It was no different with my dad's cap. It looked as if some cruel prankster had put an infant's cap on the head of Andre the Giant. Suffice to say, I won't be wearing the cap and if I'm being honest, I feel a little sad about that. That cap represents a tangible connection to my father and I don't have a lot of those. I am so very grateful for the memories of him that I have and more importantly for his example and the values that he instilled in me. Those are far more important than any tactile connection. Still, I envisioned myself marching from the misery that is Penn Station to my office in midtown wearing his cap and working to do him proud. That's still important to me, even after all these years.

I thought of that cap and doing my late father proud today as I taught my New Testament Sunday School/Gospel Doctrine class. Teaching from the books of 1 - 3 John, we spoke much of the the simple statement that God is love. We talked about the love God has for us as His children and this familiar verse from 3 John 1:4 struck a chord with me:

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.

God wants what is best for us and He wants us to be happy. My father wanted that for me, my sister, and my brother. That is precisely what I want for my three children. His example and actions taught me that. The fact that my big old head won't fit his cap doesn't change what he taught me. It doesn't change the opportunity for me to choose to be like him each day. That said, I'll keep nearby as a reminder.

Of Colonoscopies a la Mexicana

Reunited with some of his favorites

Not sure where to start with what TMFKATB had to say to do. His letter arrived earlier than last week, closer to what it's normally been. He sent a note to me first though and it was a bit of a butt barn burner since it contained a delightful, and by that I mean gross, description of his Mexican colonoscopy. He was keen to know if I'd had one yet and I think he walked away more than a little proud that he got the First Timer's Trophy on that one. I've had other medical indignities thrust upon me, so I'm not worried about losing out to him too much. Without disclosing too much that would get me a HIPPA violation, it looks like he'll be having some more 'fun' within the confines of the Mexican medical system.

The good news is that he's been reassigned to a new area with a missionary who's been out a little longer than him. His companion is Mexican national, so once again TMFKATB will have a tremendous opportunity to enhance his language skills and learn more about the culture of this people that he has come to love so much. They are working hard and seem to be having a good time together. TMFKATB's attitude continues to blow me away. He's finding the positive in everything, even his jacked up intestinal fiesta.

As I read his letter, I wished he'd gotten a bit more of my cast-iron stomach. Why I can essentially eat roadkill in the streets of Kolkata or some unknown 'meat' out of a burning oil drum in Shanghai and not bat an eye and he's struggling in southern Mexico is beyond me. I'd trade places with him in a second if I could though. That said, as we read his letters, his sense of humor radiates and his positive attitude brings us a sense of peace. We were promised he would be watched over as he served. It's a promise in which we have enormous faith. Sometimes this feels like a bigger challenge for us than him. In some ways, it probably is. This mission experience is a tremendous time of learning for the young man or woman who chooses to serve. Turns out, the parents learn a whole lot as well. I need to be a better student and trust a bit more in the Teacher right now. I'm just glad that kid of mine in southern Mexico is such a great example.

It's good to be reminded that a Dad can always be learning from his children.