The Doors Open

I’m standing with my daughter on my arm. The thick wooden doors shut in front of us. We’ve both thought about this moment for a long time.
The music starts and the doors open.

My mind races back to last year when I was on a retreat. The priest suggested that we focus our time on one particular intention. My intention was for God to bring a good, strong man into my daughter’s life. Someone who will bring her closer to Christ so that she can experience the same joy and happiness that I had when I fell in love with Lisa. A few weeks later, Addie was home from school. When telling a story, I noticed she mentioned the name Stone several times. I said, “You sure seem to have Stone in the middle of a lot of these stories.” She knew what I meant and I saw her smile. In 21 years, I’d never seen that look on her face. She was so joyful. It seemed to just radiate from her. At that moment, I knew my prayer was answered.

That night I remember in bed trying to get my head around it all. I asked Lisa, “Are you sure that he’s the one? Do you think Stone is God’s answer to my prayer?” She asked, “Why do you seem so surprised?” I paused for a moment and said, “He’s nothing like me!” Lisa laughed and put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Baby, she’s not looking for someone like you. She is like you. She’s looking for someone more like me.”

The music starts and the doors open.

I look down the aisle and see the cross. I walk towards it. The more steps I take, the longer the church becomes. The soft music is calming and I feel a peace wash over me. I break my focus from the cross for just a moment to notice all of the people looking at us. Friends and family from different chapters of our lives are all there, smiling and full of joy. This must be what walking into heaven feels like. We keep our steps slow and in rhythm. I feel my daughter holding back tears. I know just by her breathing. I offer a light squeeze. Our steps continue. As we approach the altar, the statues of angles and saints look down on us as the sunlight pours through the stained glass. I remove her vail. One last embrace.

I take my seat. My work is done. I’ve raised her and loved her with God’s grace, the best I could. I was so young when she was born. Not much older than she is now. Where did the last 22 years go? I’ve been so blessed with this great commission - To be the father of my children. There is nothing I have built that I am more proud of. For so long, this has been my mission, my calling, my vocation.

But what does God ask of me now? Speak Lord, your servant is listening….

Wish You Were Here

So, so you think you can tell  - heaven from hell - blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange
A walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year
Running over the same old ground, have we found the same old fears

Wish you were here

 For those of us of a certain age and/or musical inclination, these words are familiar.  I'm sure those same people could hear in their heads the unique guitar rift that introduces them, or the haunting falsetto doo-dooing-along-with-the-melody that follows.

When I was younger I used to love this song, playing it on repeat on my CD player, perfecting each word and air guitar note - but I will have to admit that I really didn't see the words in focus then.  They were blurry - sounding cool and existential, but were dimly lit and above my level of understanding or interpretation. Yet, I felt something different when I heard it.  It struck a deeper chord within me - one that I really didn't learn how to play until recently...

The song popped back into my life this weekend.  I was flipping channels and stopped at a documentary on Pink Floyd and their album 'Wish You Were Here.'   When coming to this song, the interviews moved between David Gilmore, who authored the music, and Roger Waters, who  penned the lyrics.  They both knew they had found gold.  As Roger started to describe what his intention was for the lyrics all of the sudden - 'BAM ' - the words became crystal clear, that feeling returned, and I knew what it was.

It is that feeling of longing, that deep seated knowledge that what we are presented in this world - what our senses can see and feel and know - is not ENOUGH.  It is what Lewis, and Chesterton, and so many others write about.  Yet, today, it is a feeling we too often mute in our lives, and we soon find ourselves settling for a life without it.  We trade our heroes for ghosts.  We give up our ability to develop, grow and change for the cold comfort of the American Dream.  We center our lives on our own wants and desires - a lead role in the cage we create - instead of giving ourselves to the mysterious, unknown, comfort-threatening role God has for us in His plan to overcome the world.  

Year after year, we go in search of that next thing in hopes that it will quench that longing- the newest car, house, boat, smartphone; the next sporting event, promotion, honor, competition; the next adrenaline driven experience - only to find that we've been down that road before, running over the same old ground - and although the newness is there, it quickly wears off, just as our numerous previous attempts to fofill this longing have, and we are back where we started, square one, in search of the next big thing. 

I believe with all my heart that if we could just wake up to these things - these ways and patterns of looking at the world; the way we are living, thinking, and acting - and move beyond our self-directed egodrama-of-a-life, we will find the "Here" God is wishing we would share with Him.  

We will no doubt be outside any comfort-zone we have built when we get there, but it has to be better than this fish bowl we swim around in.

So how about you?  You ready to take your walk-on part in the war?