Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Hope comes, as it always does, in new life.

The other night I engaged in my nightly pre-bed ritual of quietly tiptoeing into the boys' rooms.  I walk over to their beds where, God willing, they're fast asleep.  I lay my hand on their heads, just for a second or two.  I don't really say or do anything, but I guess it's kind of a prayer of sorts.  A parental blessing to end the day.

When I went into our oldest son's room, who turned 9 this week, I lingered a bit.  Something was keeping me there.  And then I heard it - well, in my head I heard it.  A question from my past, dragged out of my subconscious:

Do we really want to bring a child into this mess?

It was my wife who posed it, many years before.  She was the braver one, to be honest - brave enough to voice the question that'd been rattling around in both our brains in recent weeks but had, up until that moment, remained unspoken.

Even before we got married, we knew we wanted kids.  Eventually.  A few years to ourselves would be wise; get used to each other and this lifelong dance known as marriage.  But over that summer, things had taken a turn.  Conversations about having kids had gone from strictly hypothetical to more imminent.  As much as we ever could be, we were ready.

And then 9-11 happened.

When severly misguided and sick men fly loaded commercial jets straight into skyscrapers and government buildings and a Pennsylvania field, it can't help but cause you to second-guess your convictions.  And one of those convictions, for us at least, was being parents.  It's hard enough bringing a child into the world and dealing with paying for college and feeding and clothing them, and that strong desire to shield them from anything that would do them harm.  There's a certain accepted level of uncertainty to life.  But after the morning of September 11th, uncertainty kind of burst through the floodgates and saturated us.

The question came a week or so after it happened.  It was a legitimate question.  Why would we want to subject anyone, much less our own flesh and blood, to the sick world outside our doors?  It was hard enough making heads or tails of all things post-9-11 as a grown adult.  How could we ever expect a kid to deal with it?

In the end we realized that, on the contrary, this was the perfect time to have a child.  It was our dream, our calling to be parents.  And to give up on that dream would mean letting the terrorists win.  Because the truth of the matter is that they never really were after buildings and a body count.  They wanted to strike at the very heart of our soul.  And we weren't going to let them do that.

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Fast forward a few months.  My wife talked me into going to see some new movie about a kid named Harry Potter.  Kind of strange, two grown adults at a kids movie; but it seemed important to her.  Afterwards we dined at the Schlotsky's Deli down the street - good stuff.  We got into the car in the deli parking lot and I asked if there was anywhere she wanted to go before we headed home.  How about Babies R Us?  she asked excitedly, with a noticeable sheepish grin on her face.  I was confused at first.  Why in the world would we ever need to go to..... 

Oh.....!

And that's how my wife told me she was pregnant with our first child.

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It was the morning of September 11, 2002. I was parked in front of TV, and every channel that morning carried the one-year memorial observance at Ground Zero.  Amazing how beautiful the day was, just like before.  It had been a busy year, a jam-packed year. And yet watching the television, the horror of that morning came flooding back to me as if it had happened yesterday.

There was something different this time around, though. I was holding our two-day old son in my arms.

We were at the hospital, and we were getting ready to go home.  My wife was in the room packing her bag.  Any minute now the nurse would come with the wheelchair, and our family - now three strong - would head to our car parked right outside the hospital front door, courtesy of some strange kindness called "valet service."  We were prepping to leave the comfort and security of the hospital, the nurses and doctors who knew far more about taking care of a newborn than we did.  We were going out into the world that, just a year ago, seemed like it was falling apart.

I held our firstborn son and couldn't stop staring at him, then I glanced up at the TV and the memorial service, then back at our son.  And then I understood:

The terrorists lost.

Hope comes, as it always does, in new life.

Close call

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  This one only needs seventeen:

A tree fell in our yard yesterday.
It barely missed our car.
It demolished our basketball goal.

It goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that we are most grateful that the car was spared.  If it looks like the tree fell just to the side of the car, that's exactly what it did.  There was literally no space between the tree and the side of the bumper.  The car did get nicked up a bit, but nothing any more serious than someone opening another car door into its side.  This "branch" that fell is part of a huge Bradford Pear in our yard (the rest of which will be coming down soon, I can assure you), and with its size and dense heavy wood it easily weighs over a thousand pounds.  Six inches more to the right and it would've crushed our little hybrid. 

That's the story this picture tells.  But what I'm even more grateful for is the story this picture doesn’t tell.

About 15-20 minutes before this happened, my eldest son and I were heading out the door to take our dog for a walk.  Our youngest asked me to move the car so he could play basketball.  In a moment of lazy parenting I said no, for no other reason than the keys were upstairs in my bedroom and I didn't want to go get them.  I asked him to join us instead, not sure if he would.  Somewhat surprisingly, he did.

We were getting ready to turn the bend in the road to come home when we heard the horrible "cracking" sound.  I knew it was either a tree in the woods across from us or one in our yard.  Turned out to be the latter.  As I ran up and surveyed the scene, it didn't take long for me to realize that, had I moved the car as my son requested to shoot baskets, he would've been right underneath it when it fell.

We're bummed about the basketball goal, but honestly, it needed to be replaced anyway.  And we're thankful that the car got out of all of this relatively scot-free.  But we're obviously most thankful that my son was walking with me and not shooting baskets. Perhaps I should try to be a lazy parent more often.

Home is where the car is

A 1928 Graham Page Model 610, to be exact.  But really, it's about much more than the car.

I came across this story the other day - about a family of six who have been driving this Graham Paige around the world for eleven years.  Yep, you heard right - a family (the kids are 8, 5, 3, 1 and have each been born in a different country).  And yep, a trip around the world.  Two dozen countries and close to 150,000 miles, to be precise. They eat and sleep in the car.  Homeschool their kids and play games in the car.  It is their means of transportation, their living room and bedroom, their kitchen and classroom.  It is their home.

I must admit, I'm truly amazed by this, for a couple of reasons. My family and I can barely survive the five-hour trip to the beach every summer.  If it weren't for the car DVD player my wife and I invested in a few years ago, our collective sanity would be in jeopardy.  The fact that these six people have cohabitated like this for over a decade says something about their family or about mine, or maybe both.

Along with that, though, I find myself bemused at how they do this and keep semblance of a family life.  I come from a line of thinking that suggests a family's vitality and overall success depend on how "grounded" it is.  And for me, as I imagine for many, that "groundedness" is quite literal; having a central gathering place.  A place where, after our individual agendas each day - the boys with their school and activities, my wife and I with our jobs and errands - we can reunite and huddle up together until we do it all again the next day.  It's hard to divorce this kind of thinking from a physical center that is unchanging.

But then I realize - for the Zapp family, that unchanging center is the car.  Or more precisely, it's the family of six in the car.  They are their own center, and from that center they experience the world around them.  And they experience that world up close and personal, as the article brings to light.  Rather than stay in one place and learn about the world from a distance, they move around and experience everything up close and personal.  And they experience it together.

My wife and kids have nothing to worry about as far as me growing some wild hair and pulling a stunt like this.  But I do think we can learn something valuable from the Zapps about the construct of the American family.  Contrary to what our culture may tell us, we don't need a two-story with 2.5 baths and a well-manicured lawn to make it as a family. We don't even need more than one car.  All we really need is each other.

Although if we happen to do it with a 1928 Graham Page Model 610, that's gotta be considered a plus.

First day, all over again

Things got going a little earlier at the Lindsley house this morning.  Our oldest son came bouncing into our bathroom as I was shaving. He was completely dressed – not uncommon for him, except for the collar shirt he was wearing.  See, it was his first day back at school and he wanted to make a good impression.

We slid into our school morning routines as if we had never left them back in early June.  Breakfast for the boys, feed the cats, give the cat his insulin shot (yes, we have a diabetic cat).  Lunches and book bags were packed.  Teeth were brushed.  Younger brother was heading to Kindergarten this year but wouldn't start for another day – they stagger the little ones. He would have one more day with Mom to himself.  I'm pretty sure this means as much to Mom as it does to him.

We parked the minvan along the road and walked around the corner to the school we've grown to love. You could feel the excitement and energy emanating from the place before you even got there.  Mrs. Johnson was greeting folks at the front door; she was our oldest son's teacher assistant last year.  They couldn't have picked a better, more welcoming person to be in that place on this day.  As with so much about our school, they got it right.  We waved and said hi to teachers, parents, kids all about the place.  Everyone wore smiles.

We got to his classroom – we'd already been there a few days earlier for Open House, so it was familiar.  And yet it was different, too.  Students were already at their desks quietly writing in their notebooks.  Without a hint of hesitation he walked right in, sat down.  We lingered, for just a minute, and then suddenly we knew we shouldn't be there anymore.  This was his time, not ours. We waved and said goodbye.

As we turned the hallway corner I was suddenly hit with a thought that surprised me by how much it surprised me: we were parents of a second grader at a K-2 school.  We were now parents of one of the “old kids;” a primary school “senior.”  Those second graders had always seemed so grown-up, so much older than mine. And yet here he was, one of them.  How did this happen so fast?

Walking back up the hallway – more teachers, more parents and kids.  More smiles.  It had been months, and yet it seemed so familiar.  Because it was.  The school that we love; the people there we love even more.  It was the first day of school, and everything felt right.  Everything was going to be fine.

Nine weeks down, three to go

Three months.

Three months seems like a big chunk of time when you first think about it. Ask Lindsay Lohan - last week she got sentenced to three months in jail and cried like a baby at the hearing.  When your favorite band says their new album is coming out in three months, or your favorite show takes a three-month hiatus, it feels like an eternity.  As a kid summer break is a much-enjoyed three-month break from school, lived to the fullest.  Just ask my boys.

Three months seemed like a long time when I walked out of the church office on the last Thursday of May this year, knowing that I would not set foot back in there until my sabbatical was complete on the second Monday of August.  It felt strange to say the least.  I had left before on week-long vacations; been absent for two-week doctoral study sessions.  So three months, I figured, was going to seem like forever.

Let me tell you something: three months flies by.

And in no way am I complaining.  I've had an opportunity that most grown adults can only dream of; I realize that.  I'm thankful for every minute of it.  But it is seriously hard to believe that I have just a few more weeks before I walk back through those church doors again.

I've done a lot for the past nine weeks.  I started off the whole excursion by taking a family trip to Disney World, where we soaked in everything Mickey.  I've spent a week in Austin, TX; I've led music for two Massanetta Springs Middle School youth conferences and released my first CD in eleven years.  I did a lot of stuff at the boys' school like helping with their field day and playing some music at their end-of-year assembly.  I've written some songs, listened to a lot of songs, played some songs too.  So by no means have I been sitting still.

And perhaps that's why it's all flown by so fast.

So I'm changing course a bit these last few weeks - I'm not doing much.  I'm not going on any big trips (save some family time at the beach).  I'm hanging out at home, spending some time at the music space downtown.  I'm going to the pool a lot with the family - making me one of the very few Dads there, which I'm okay with.  I'm taking Elder to swim team practices in the afternoon and watching him at swim meets with a lot of fatherly pride.

And I imagine when August 2 rolls around three weeks from today and I find myself sitting back in my office at 326 South Main Street, I'll be ready for it.  We humans are creatures of habit and we cling to our routines by our very nature.  We also can become enslaved to them, which is why these three months have been such a blessing.  But we are still inevitably drawn back to them because they define a large part of who we are.

I have missed my church family, I will admit.  Hanging out around town means I've still bumped into folks here and there - at the pool, in the grocery store.  And there's always Facebook. But it's not the "family" that assembles together every Sunday morning in a sacred space.  I have missed that gathering and look forward to being reunited with them when the time comes (I just hope I remember how to write a sermon).

But until then, I'll make the most of these last few weeks.  And not by doing too much or doing too little.  In fact, I'm going to try and make the most of it not by "doing" at all.  I'm going to focus on just "being" for a change.  Maybe then it won't seem to go too fast or too slow.  It'll be just right.

Brothers

I've got one; his name is Brad. That's us to the right, back when I was actually taller than him.  My wife has one too, which I guess means technically I have two brothers.

My Dad comes from a family of five brothers, born across a span of fourteen years. For that reason alone, I've always had the greatest admiration for their mother, my Granny.  The five of them have gone on to different lives over the years, but from time to time they've gotten back together, like the picture taken three years ago at the bottom of this post.  It's always a special time for them.  This past weekend, only four gathered together along with extended family and friends.  The one missing was the reason for the other four gathering.

Charles was twelve years older than Dad and had battled health concerns in recent years.  He finally succumbed to the cancer that had intruded on his body, mere hours after the decision was made to move him to Hospice.  Charles was unconventional in a number of ways, including his personal faith; so it was appropriate that we came together not in a church building or a funeral home but on the back porch of the youngest brother's house in Durham.

So there we were: my Mom and Dad and brother, Dad's remaining siblings; a various assortment of cousins and their families; Charles' grown children and their kids. There was even a strong representation from the other side of Granny's family tree, the five brothers' cousins - and ironically, they numbered five boys as well and are all Presbyterian ministers (turns out I'm not all that unique in the tribe).  We gathered on the porch of a life-long tinkerer; extra decks and workshops and roofs added on over the years by the skilled carpenter hands of my uncle.  And after a time for food and fellowship we sat together in some semblance of a circle, and that porch was transformed into our sanctuary.  We shared stories and memories about the man whose life we had come to celebrate.  Most of the stories were told by the brothers and Charles' kids, but each of us took part in our own way. There was lots of laughter and some tears to go with them, too. There were things said like "I never knew that about Charles..." and  "I've never shared this story before..."  It truly was sacred space on that rustic porch.

We remembered Charles, which is to say we did much more than just talk about him. We "re-membered" him; we put him back together in our presence.  We celebrated his life in such a way that he isn't simply confined to our past anymore but goes forward with us into our future.

And throughout all of this I was keenly aware of my Dad and his struggle with losing a brother. And I don't think it necessarily came from a close relationship between the two. The age gap meant they didn't really grow up together; and even in their adult life they continued to live in somewhat different worlds.  That is, until the last few months when Charles' health took a turn for the worse and Dad was there with him. I'd receive weekly email updates, sent to a wide circle of family, about Charles' deteriorating condition, the conversation with the doctors, the hard decisions being made. Dad was with him through it all, and I think it was more than him just playing the part of the loyal brother. I think it was Dad reconnecting with Charles in a way he never had before.

When Dad spoke, he read words from a song by Natalie Sleeth titled "Hymn of Promise:"

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.

From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;

In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Dad also said that, while Charles had never exactly been a "role model" to him over the years, he had taught him one valuable lesson in those last few weeks - how to die with dignity and with grace. I guess there are some things in life that only brothers can teach you.

(L to R, and in birth order: Charles, Don, John, Dad, Jim)

A prayer for all seasons - including this one

With the new Arizona immigration law and a senate candidate who just this week questioned the Civil Rights Act of 1964, perhaps the prayer my father recently shared at a church breakfast couldn't have been more timely. It was originally written by Gordon Ruff, a Presbyterian missionary and parish associate at the church I grew up in, back in the 80's.  Funny how our conversations with God never seem to go out of style.

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Lord Jesus, we praise you as one who came long ago to a point in time and in geography, to Bethlehem; we praise you as one who comes to us now in grace through Word, Sacrament, celebration, and encounter; and we praise you as one who will come in judgment and in mercy and in grace in the future.

At your first coming your weakness disturbed the strong; your poverty disturbed the rich; your refusal to be bound by old customs disturbed the religiously correct people.

As we pray for your continued coming into our world, into our church, into our homes, into our hearts, we recognize our own unreadiness to receive you. If you should come as one of a different class, with a different style of life and a different way of reverencing God, we would find it disturbing and upsetting. Forgive our rigidity, our closed minds, our unwillingness to accept new ways and different people. Forgive that we should foreclose the future out of excessive loyalty to the past. Forbid that we should cling to the good so tightly that we miss the best.

Have mercy on us, lest in shutting out all that is different and new and uncomfortable and disturbing we shut out you, O Christ. Amen.

Our Disney trip, in Tweets

So the family just got back from Disney World.  Maybe you knew we were going.  Maybe you didn't.  If you did know, though, I can assure you it wasn't because of any Facebook status updates or Twitter "tweets" while we were there.  That's because there weren't any.  I was under strict orders to refrain from referring to our trip in the world of social media.  This is probably because my neurotic tendency to do so annoys my wife.  It may also be because of her fear that making reference to our family vacation on Facebook and Twitter lets any yahoo with an internet connection (read: potential burglar) know we are not at our home. I'm going to assume it's a little of both.

So I swore off Facebook and Twitter for a week.  I know some of you think this was a hard thing for me to do.  But seriously - this is Disney World we're talking about!  I went a few times when my brother and I were kids; and the wife and I have been dreaming about letting our own kids in on the fun.  So I really didn't miss Facebook/Twitter at all.  Okay, maybe a little.  But only a little.

Anyway, now that we're back into the groove of life at home, I feel the need to re-engage.  And so I present to you our trip to Walt Disney World in tweets - the good, the better, and the really good.  This is close to what I would've actually tweeted when I was there, if I had been permitted to do so:

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DAY ONE - TRAVEL DAY

Sunday, May 2, 2010, 1:07 pm - the Lindsley family departs for Charlotte airport and Disney World, whoo-hoo!

1:17pm - wife has forgotten our resort passes and itinerary. We go back home to get them.

Younger throws up in the car before we leave Mount Airy. He's prone to car-sickness. His shorts are unsalvageable. We've got extras.

On the plane. I'm sitting with Younger. He is WAY excited. Practically levitating out of his seat! First flight for the boys. Lots of firsts coming this week.

Ah, terra firma! We land in Orlando. Pilot tells us its 90 degrees & humid. I'm loving it already.

On the Disney Magical Express Bus in airport, driver says over PA that you could fit entire Disneyland theme park in Disney World parking lot. Wow.

We arrive at Wilderness Lodge. Unbelievable! Think Robinson Crusoe's tree house on major steroids. Not very Disney, I know, but still...

Love how the staff at Wilderness Lodge (and I imagine all over Disney) are called "cast members"

Our room is like any ordinary hotel room. Except for the Mickey Mouse ears on the bed w/the boys' names stitched in. And the voice mail from Goofy welcoming the first-timers.

I'd really like a beer, but I just can't bring myself to buy one Bud Light for $5.25. ONE.

We take a stroll to check out the place and go back to the room. Lights out at 11:30. The boys don't put up a fight; fatigue has won out over excitement.

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DAY TWO - MAGIC KINGDOM

The Wilderness Lodge lives up to its name - while we were getting ready this morning, a crow flies in our room off the back porch & grabs a bite of pop-tart.

Hello, Magic Kingdom. It's been 30+ years. Good to see you again.

First stop - The Haunted Mansion. Brought back memories. About halfway through Younger sheepishly asks, "is it almost over?"

Space Mountain. Wow. Line wasn't long. Elder rode in front. Both boys did great. I still remember this at 8 years old or so. Thankfully, breakfast is still in our stomachs.

Still see doors marked "Cast Members Only" instead of "Staff."  Walt Disney ingenuity at its finest.

When I was a kid the castle  seemed friggin' huge. You know what? It still does.

Lunch was the most efficient serving of chicken nuggets & fries to hundreds of people at a time that I've ever seen.

WHAT?!? No more Mr. Toad's Wild Ride??? You gotta be kidding me! I feel like I've been cheated out of a childhood memory.

Me to Elder: "Your Mom & I have always wanted to take you guys to Disney World." Elder to me: "Yeah, cause you all are nice that way."

I feel like I've sweated off about ten pounds today. HOT.

Every inch of this park has a specific purpose, mapped out, unwasted. There is no dead space.  Amazing.

Dinner at the Crystal Palace, buffet-style. Spoon cornbread is to die for. Boys got autographs, pics & hugs from Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore & Tigger.

It's 7:50 and we're reserving a spot on Main Street for the parade because everyone else is. Know what time the parade starts? Over an hour from now.

Parade was fun, but not the same as I remember. Oh well. Too wiped out to care. We head back to our boat to the Lodge. Great first day!

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DAY THREE - EPCOT

We start the day with a boat to the Contemporary and then the Monorail to Epcot. Reliving childhood!

Now waiting in a very long line for pics & autographs with Mickey, Minnie, Pluto, Goofy & Donald Duck. Worth every second. #characterscore

After Circle Of Life Environmental program, elder turns to me and says, "Everyone should see this." Words of wisdom from a 7-year old.

I've never seen so many parked strollers before. I mean, they're everywhere. There can't be that many kids here, can there?

Lunch at the Coral Reef Restaurant. Some of the best salmon I've ever had. The walls are huge fish tanks. There are sand sharks swimming by. My foot twitches.

Just did Mission: Space. Awesome simulation ride to Mars. Always wanted to be an astronaut.

Beatles cover band in Epcot's England playing "From Me to You." They've got it all down, including the head bop and Paul's left-handed Hofner bass.

The monorail that keeps coming through the park is all decked out with "Tron: Legacy." These folks don't miss a chance to promo a new Disney flick, do they?

All these countries & their great food, & we're eating chicken nuggets at Liberty Inn in America. This is called "Epcot dinner with schoolaged-kids"

Walking back to the Monorail. Great day at Epcot, although I seriously feel like I've walked through all the actual countries.

Pool time at the Lodge! Elder's been talking about the slide since the first night we got here.

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DAY FOUR - HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS

At breakfast there was a "cast member" & all he did was walk around & recognize folks with anniversaries & b-days. Continue to be amazed by people who work here.

Whoa. Wife is actually drinking coffee. She only does this when she's really tired.

Boys are getting ready to fight Darth Maul at Star Wars Jedi training academy. Definitely one of those "live-vicariously-through-your-kids" moments. #seriouslyenvious

I am now the proud parent of two young Jedis, having been properly trained at Hollywood Studio's Star Wars academy. May the force be with them. And us.

"Honey I Shrunk the Kids" playground came very close to turning turned into, "Honey I LOST the kids." Seriously. Scariest attraction by far. Seriously.

An attraction was closed, but rather than have a sign out front there was a real live "cast member" to relay the news. So impressed with the Disney Way.

Love the fact that the random street rock band is totally wireless & has in-ear monitors. And that Younger got to play air guitar w/them.

Lunch today in a makeshift 50's drive-in theater where we eat in classic-style cars entertained by cheesy black & white sci-fi flicks. Freakin' amazing.

Pixar's Block party parade. So incredibly choreographed. And colorful. With trampolines.

American Idol Experience was much enjoyed by Elder. As with so much in life, I'm doing it for the kids.

Another thing I'm amazed about - the way Disney uses sound. Speakers hidden everywhere constantly playing music, transitioning you from one venue to another. Everything is a production.

If there's a gift shop, there must be an attraction nearby. It's a certainty, like gravity.

I like the Narnia movies, but the 10 minutes I spent at the Prince Caspian "journey" are 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

Fastpasses freakin' rock. A 100-minute wait for the Toy Story ride becomes just 5.

Dinner at Pizza Planet. Just like the movie. And yes, they have the Claw #ivebeenchosen

Boys are getting their own light sabers made. Both double red. We're in trouble.

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DAY FIVE - ANIMAL KINGDOM

Man. Is it 7am already?

First order of business today at Animal Kingdom - an African safari! Very cool. Two rhinos crossed the road in front of us.

Kali River Rapids ride = my second shower of the day. And we didn't get it half as bad as the two teenage girls in front of us.

Here's another Disney observation - if a real human voice can speak it, like something scripted on a ride, they do. Very little recorded voice.

Looking at a bunch of snakes & other amphibians. After each one, Younger always says "Wow!" Every time.

Here's the hard-core truth: the gift shops are not following the attractions, the gift shops ARE the attractions.

Cutting out of the park a little early. Four solid days are catching up to us.  A short rest and then a character barbecue tonight.

Our first rain of the week. It didn't hit until we were back in our room. Couldn't have planned it better.

Watching a duck swim in the swimming pool while it rains.

Oops. Took the wrong bus to Mickey's BBQ & wound up walking a mile or so in light rain, only to catch another bus #lifeslittleadventures

FINALLY, a beer!  It's included in the meal ;-)

Country Western band was doing well but lost me when they kicked into Kid Rock's "Sweet Home Alabama." Not entirely kid-appropriate. Plus the song sucks.

Character dance. So hilarious seeing parents shove their kids on the dance floor with Mickey. Not sure who's more excited.

Had to go up to the front of the stage b/c Elder wanted to see drummer up close to check out his set. #thatsmyboy

Walked back to the Lodge on a trail that was supposedly lit. It wasn't. Another accidental adventure!

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DAY SIX - MAGIC KINGDOM REVISITED

We begin our last full day at Disney with breakfast at Chef Mickey's in the Contemporary. Tasty buffet. And all the coffee we want.

Autograph & pics with Daisy Duck on our entry to Magic Kingdom completes our characters. Now waiting in ride for Flying Dumbo.

Just went on "It's a Small World." Classic ride. Song is sufficiently drilled in my head now.

We did Splash Mountain again, this time as a family affair. Younger asked me to "hold him tighter" multiple times.

Haunted Mansion again. Love it.

Being the devoted family man, I set off on my own to secure the heralded FastPasses on the other side of the park. Walking around, I feel naked without my family.

Thank you, Walt, for sticking the Mad Tea Party ride in a semi-hidden location. Don't know that my lunch would've survived that.

Tom Sawyer Island is the most un-crowded part of the park. I'm enjoying this.

Wife called an audible & we went to Country Bear Jamboree. I remember bits & pieces of this from way back when. Younger couldn't stop laughing.

Splash Mountain AGAIN! This makes three times. Younger & I are in front row. We'll get soaked!!

Trying to leave park. We are in gift shop hell. We may never get out.

We got out. Nice dinner at the lodge and then a quick swim in the pool. This time Younger went down the water slide. Big deal for him and for Dad.

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DAY SEVEN - HOMEWARD BOUND

Last day! Flight is not until 5pm, so we're gonna hang out at the Lodge. Not sure what we'll do...

Cast members, a.k.a. "staff," are so cordial. Everyone, from hotel to guy picking up trash. They make you wanna be nice. Can someone send Congress down here??

Packing up the raincoat I didn't have to use all week.

With time to kill, we hop on the boat to the Contemporary hotel to check out - you guessed it - a gift shop.

Back at the lodge to......wait some more. Lunch in a bit. Looks like everybody either arrives or leaves on Saturday.

We've successfully killed five hours. Now boarding the bus to the airport.

As we head back home it's weird thinking I've still got eleven weeks left until I really return to the "real world" #sabbatical

Re-entry observation #1: walking around airport w/lots of people feels like Disney World with one exception - not as many people smiling.

Re-entry observation #2: There's a long line at the airport Starbucks. Sure wish I could get a FastPass for this...

Re-entry observation #3: If I see an obvious Disney family in the airport concourse, I feel like I know them, even though I don't.

Re-entry observation #4: Back in Charlotte, I am having to consciously remember how to drive a car.

We arrive home to a laundry room full of smeared cat poo. Takes us an hour to clean it. I have to give the cat a bath. Welcome home!

Yep, that's my Dad holding an Olympic torch

A shot my Dad sent us from the Vancouver Olympics, where he's been working the past few weeks, holding a nifty piece of hardware.

If you want the back story on why/how my Dad has been involved in every Olympics since Atlanta in '96, go here.

What I learned on Christmas vacation

Well, this is it.  Today brings my return to the "real world" after an extended holiday vacation.  "Extended" being a loose term in the ministry world after Christmas Eve services and a funeral this past Monday.  Nevertheless, it was some much-welcome R&R with family and friends.

The time off, as usual, gives me a chance to gain some perspective on things; perspective I don't always have when I'm running like crazy through an over-packed agenda.  I learned a lot over the course of this respite.  So I share with you now a list of "learnings," in no particular order.  You may find these intriguing or an insufferable bore.  I'm hoping for somewhere in the middle.  Here goes:

I learned that the guys who put together the plastic toys my sons got a-plenty for Christmas must be either the biggest secure freaks on the planet or sadistic jerks who simply want to make the parents of their recipients endure tremendous hardship trying to undo the wiring and screws (screws!) that keep their toys affixed to their packaging.

I learned that Wii is pretty awesome, when you kids let you play it.

I learned that the Draughn kids from our church (Logan, Andi and Claire) are amazing musicians with some freakish natural ability.  How else do you explain them coming up with this for our church's Christmas Eve service?

I learned that wearing Crocs outside to feed the dogs and clean their pens when its 20 degrees will make your feet cold.

I learned that while you never can truly home, it sure is cool to try anyway.  At least for a few days.

I learned that having a 75-pound Boxer running around your backyard when it's been raining for a few days will pretty much guarantee you're not going to have much of a backyard anymore.

I also learned that sharing a sofa bed with said Boxer when you bring in all the outside dogs in 15-degree nighttime weather, is not very restful; but it is still more restful than having a crated Jack Russel terrier mix next to your bed, which is what my wife had to endure.

I learned that Blindside was worth every bit of the hype.  I also learned it will be a crime if Sandra Bullock doesn't get an Oscar for her performance.

I learned that you feel old when you realize the guy you used to sit with on the school bus to elementary school every day, debating the merits of the UNC-NCSU basketball rivalry or who has the cooler dirt bike, is now four years away from sending his firstborn off to college.  That'll date ya.

I learned that I still like looking out in our front yard and seeing remnants of the snowman we made during the 8+ inches of the white stuff we got three weeks ago. Stout little fella, although considerably smaller.

I learned that nothing brightens my day quite like the smiles of my two boys.

I learned that Christmas sweets are the devil.  And for some reason we have them all over the house.  Our kitchen counter is covered with the stuff, and the boys are still making their way to the bottom of their Christmas stockings.  Heck, we've even got Halloween candy still floating around.  What's the point?

I learned that I have a very loving, understanding and patient wife.  I learn that one a lot.

I learned that planning for a sabbatical can be both exhausting and renewing at the same time.

I learned that I will not lose weight by sitting around watching football.  Would be cool if you could, though.

Speaking of football, I learned that an 8-8 season can feel pretty darn good when your team wins the last three games of their season with a second-string quarterback and the epitome of a patchwork offensive line. Yes, I'm talking about you, Carolina Panthers.  Let's give Matt Moore a shot at QB next year, shall we?

I learned that the word "anticipation" can be defined as "waiting for the Beatles Stereo Box set you ordered the minute your family gave you the last needed Amazon.com gift card."  Should be arriving very soon.

I learned that Facebook is even more addicting on vacation than it is when you're working.  Not good.

I learned that I like most White Stripe albums, and Bruce Springsteen's Magic is solid stuff, and the movie It Might Get Loud makes me really want to play electric guitar.

I learned that hands-down, my most favorite moment of the Advent/Christmas season at church takes place after our 7pm Christmas Eve Candlelight/Communion service.  I purposely send home all the wonderful elders and members who volunteer to help me close up shop, telling them they need to be with their families.  It's a generous gesture, but I must admit not totally altruistic.  I have a personal agenda in mind.   There is something incredibly peaceful and - yes, worshipful - about being in the church all by myself on Christmas Eve.  Especially when I close the door behind me and walk out to our upper parking lot, where the sky is lit up by the city Christmas tree next door and the street is still with slow Christmas Eve traffic.  It's beautiful, and I pause for a minute or two - something I probably haven't done much of for the previous few weeks.  I know when I get home I'll get caught up in all the preparations there, and the boys will never let us sleep a second past 6am.  So for that brief moment, there in the upper parking lot of First Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve, I'm at peace.

And peace, per my last blog post, is a pretty good way to start the Christmas season, as well as the new year.  Bring on 2010.  I'm ready.