my careless contagion

Nine years it's been. It was today nine years ago you came into my life, small but all there, as the NICU doctor noted. You came early for yourself but late in my life. Someday you'll be stronger and bigger than me. I am grateful God gave me you and all the time we've had together, though it seems improbable that half of it is already gone. I pray you grow strong and brave and faithful to the Lord and go far but always stay in touch. I tried to teach you everything you'll need to know, but only God knows the life you'll live, so I always directed you to Him. He will always be there, even when I am gone. You are the best thing God brought into my life, an unexpected blessing and always loved appreciated. Thank you for being my son.  — Your dad.  Thank you for reading. And God bless. Christian blog:  a-better-hope.blogspot.com And my other blog, None Dare Call It Treason.

Warning! This is a long post but worth it. Before I begin, let me say a few words. No one knows who wrote this. I will explain what it means to me at the end.  Judge Gently  Pray don't find fault with the man who limps or stumbles along the road, unless you have worn the shoes he wears, or struggled beneath his load, there may be tacks in his shoes that hurt, though hidden away from view, or the burden he bears, placed on your back, might cause you to stumble, too. Don't sneer at the man who's down today, unless you have felt the blow that caused his fall or felt the shame that only the fallen know. You may be strong; but still the blows that were his, if dealt to you in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time, might cause you to stagger, too. Don't be too harsh with the man who sins, or pelt him with word or stone, unless you are sure, yea doubly sure, that you have no sins of your own; for you know, perhaps if the tempter's voice should whisper as softly to you as ...

Lately, I listened to some old CDs I used to have. Actually, listened on YouTube. I don't know if I still have them. But one was the Cable Guy soundtrack (they gave them away), as well as the Surge CD. Actually, the Surge CD was two CDs; you were supposed to give one to your friend. Remember the ill-fated soda Surge? They tried to promote it with alternative music. The CDs are still out there. If you search eBay, you can find them for as much as $75. I own two because I didn't have any friends. Oh, and Millennium Hip Hop Party, a collection of 90s hip hop, for, well, partying, which was always a hit (go figure) at the few parties we hosted. These albums are time capsules from a better, more interesting time, about 25 years ago. Speaking of old music ... It's time for my semi-annual posting of One More Day by the Descendents (whom I saw perform in Philadelphia many years ago). This is my Father's Day post. In case it isn't abundantly clear, my father was not a good f...

The night before kindergarten started, you fell asleep with your hand in mine, beneath your baby blanket that didn't cover your legs, and your head on your "Go," the stuffed helicopter you had since you were a toddler. It felt too much, too soon. Weren't you still my baby boy? It's clear we have you only for a time. You are borrowed. You belong to God, but this time with you is a gift He wants us to have.

Father and son package. Inseparable. Neither are anywhere near perfect, but they love each other a lot. Could you make these guys a part of your life? Could you take my hand and teach me — and my son — how a real woman loves and cares for those she loves? Do you have a big heart and beautiful soul? My name is Joshua. That's my son, Isaiah. That picture was taken this summer at the end of a long day of playing. We were both sweaty and tired, and one of us was way past his bedtime (you can see it on his face). My son is almost 6 years old. He's all I have in this world besides God. I'd like to share my life with a nice girl. Are you a nice girl?  First, my son. He's hyper. He's sensitive, too. He's a bit overwhelming. He's loud. He's fun. He's also super bright, but I'm pretty sure he has a learning disability. He may also be on the spectrum. I'm not sure. He is often overstimulated by ordinary things. Someday, someone will tell me what ...

Dressed up for church. I'm the little one. Every day has a feeling. Sunday is the first day of the week on my calendar. But it always feels like the end. Monday is the beginning of something. Sunday is for saying goodbye to a week. The way Sunday feels has changed over the course of my 42 years. When I was a child, Sunday was for Sunday school and church. My earliest memories of church were of boredom. I often fell asleep during the services. Maybe it was really early in the morning. Maybe the preacher droned on. My mother played piano for our church. (I'm referencing one church, though we went to many over the years.) Her fingers played the notes even as she sat in the pew next to me. I watched her "play" the piano and studied her fingers. I studied my father's fingers, too, though his were harder and hairier.   I'm the little one. No, not the dog! The most exciting thing about Sunday was the Sunday paper, in this case, the Rapid City Journal. T...

Little kids seem to go through phases. I don’t know much about phases little girls go through, since I don’t have a girl, but I’m pretty sure one of the girl phases involves unicorns. Little boys, on the other hand, I know. Although I don’t remember much about my childhood, I’m pretty sure I was a little boy once upon a time.  What were my obsessions in the 1970s, ’80s, and perhaps the beginning of the ’90s? Taking things apart, for starters. One of my earliest memories is of taking apart dandelion flower heads in my backyard. I tried to take apart my dad’s easy chair, too, slicing into the pleather handrest to see what was inside. He did not appreciate that much, as I recall. I had a severe obsession with LEGO blocks which persisted beyond puberty. My brothers’ habit of destroying my cities when I wasn’t looking didn’t deter me either. It just gave me more to work on, ensuring many more hours would be spent fiddling with my make-believe world. ...