Ties never taste too good, well unless an ice cream truck happens to drive by after the game, then I suppose ties don’t taste too bad.

As my son came home with math homework focused on “pentominoes,” it all became clear to me.  It’s time for Summer Break, because they’ve officially run out of stuff to learn.

One of the beautiful things about a slow start to a Sunday morning is the opportunity to let your mind wander.  Explore thoughts and feelings long neglected.  This morning, my mind turned to the beloved church hymns of my grandfather.  “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”  “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  Every Sunday morning, he would sing them with all his passion and soul.  A loving tribute to the God who now holds him close.

This morning, I was also confronted by more news of terror in the headlines.  More bloodshed.  More violence.

Then my mind in all of its relaxed wandering connected the two.  We have an opportunity as one people of the world.  An opportunity to act not as Christian Soldiers, Muslim Soldiers, White Soldiers, Black Soldiers, but rather as soldiers confronting the sadness and fear of the world with one simple weapon that we all possess, love.  Yes, love your neighbor, as yourself.  Try to understand their pain.  Try to share your love.  Show others the simple joy of a love filled world.

Live your life full of love.  Care for each other.  Build those around you up.  It is through this mutual love that we will become strong.  Strong as a nation.  Strong as a world.  Strong enough to show others that love is the most powerful weapon of all.

Bringing the boys back from a Saturday morning haircut excursion, I noticed something curious.  I had stumbled upon “Cute Mom Jog Time.”  Yep, every cute mom in the neighborhood appeared to be out running.  My beautiful wife would have fit right in (guys, note my literary approach for weaving that subtle spousal compliment into the narrative, priceless).

Being a red blooded American man with fairly decent vision and a love for life, we arrived back at home and I announced to the boys that I was going to be taking a quick run (someday they will understand).  I changed clothes and hustled onto the trail.  I glanced around and one thing was strikingly different, all of the moms were gone.  Everywhere I looked, I was surrounded by lumpy looking dads like me.  I had landed on “Middle Aged Dad Jog Time.” I fit right in.  Oh well, I deserved it.  How fitting.

That moment, when you are driving in the car with your 10-year-old son and the DJ on the radio says that 1 in 5 people do not use toilet paper.

That look on your son’s face, when he realizes we have 5 people in our family.

For snack time, I decided to fix the boys some popcorn.  Of course, I had trouble standing still for the three minutes it takes for the microwave to process my request, so I wandered off and the popcorn was a little burnt.

Since I am on a diet and food is rare, I tossed the bag of semi-burnt popcorn into the trash and popped a fresh bag.  Perfection.  So worth it.

Sadly, however, I scarfed down my portion super fast.  This left behind only a few unpopped kernels that I took to the trash can to throw out.  There in the trash can waiting for me was the bag of untouched burnt popcorn.

It was sitting on top.  Untouched by the other trash.  Perfectly safe.  Looking somewhat good.  No, perfectly good to my wanting eyes.

Reaching into the bag of somewhat burned popcorn, I pulled out a small handful and gobbled them up.  Instantly, I heard from a few feet away, “Dad, did you just eat popcorn out of the trash?”

Don’t judge me.  Love me.  Daddy’s hungry.

Good (really great) News – I dared try on an old suit this morning and (drum roll, please)…  it fit!!!  The diet is working.  Success!

Bad News – I so rarely wear a suit in the office that it looked like I was interviewing for other jobs.

Extra Bad News – I had also scheduled the afternoon for flex time, so it really really looked like I was interviewing for another job.

Extra Good (really really great) News – I was actually just applying to spend another 20 years with my wife.  Let’s hope she reads my resume.

Every night at bedtime, my 10-year-old son Sam and I read a little bit of the Bible.  We worked our way through the Gospel of Luke and went into the Book of Acts (Luke’s sequel).  Tonight, we started on Chapter 5, which began by detailing a couple’s plot to sell some land and lie to the Apostle Peter about the proceeds.  Peter confronts the husband and launches into a guilt trip.

All well and good.  You kind of feel bad about reading it, sort of like you are in the room during an awkward conversation.  Unfortunately, however, the worst part is yet to come.  Peter says, “How is it that you have contrived this deed in your heart?  You did not lie to us, but to God!”

Like I said, awkward.  Then the author writes, “Now when Ananias (the husband) heard these words, he fell down and died.”

My son and I looked at each other a little stunned and then shared (again, here comes that word) an awkward laugh.  Now, the argument is between the husband, Peter, and God, but really?  What was the author thinking?  Soften the blow a tad for the reader.  Harsh stuff, but there was more.

They bury the guy, then the wife walks in (unaware) and also lies to Peter.  Sure enough, “Immediately she fell down at his feet and died.”  Ouch.  Seems like this sequel was rated PG-13 for awkward violence.

Plus, at Heaven’s Gate, best that you don’t lie to Peter.  Just saying, not a wise move.

Sunday morning, our pastor asked us to reflect on sacrifice.  When have you experienced sacrifice in your life?  What have others sacrificed for you?  When have you sacrificed for others?

As Charlene and I approach our twentieth wedding anniversary, one thing stands out for me.  The journey.  A long winding road that has led to this moment in time.  This instance, where I am relaxing on a holiday weekend.  My trusty dog by my side, my three boys playing without a care, and my beautiful wife of twenty years (I said it again, because the passage of time in this instance is a bit hard for me to wrap my head around) is getting ready to go exercise.  Each twist and every turn in the journey brought us to this point.

Moves where we sacrificed the comforts of home in an adventure of youthful abandon.  Our move that sacrificed a life we had created from scratch for exciting changes in career.  Our sacrifice in leaving friends and comfort to be closer to family.  Finally, our sacrifice that came with a forced career change and the need to leave behind a place we loved for a future that is still unfolding before us.

Our nomadic life has been full of adventure, change, uncertainty, and discovery.  With each move and sacrifice, God’s path for us became clear.  There is a guiding hand of protection surrounding us.  An abiding love the comforts us.  A powerful presence the protects us on a journey that’s still unfolding.

Twenty years seems to dwell within a contradiction.  The time seems to have passed in an instance, while in the moment the sacrifices seem so great.  So painful.  So overwhelming.

There’s something about time that smooths the rough edges.  Softens the sting of the moment.  Although I am graying and feel at times so tired, the fear of each sacrifice, the fear of each transition become smaller.  Each twist, each turn has resulted in this beautiful moment.  This moment twenty years in the making.

The Lord has kept me close.  God has eased the pain of my mistakes.  Guided me along many unexpected paths.  Created a wondrous life out of the tapestry of chaos that we daily navigate.  Each sacrifice, each hesitant step into the future, has been guided and perfected along the way.  I take comfort in what lies ahead, because I know God is with us.  Next steps await.  Life continues to unfold and I step forward with the reaffirming strength of a family that loves me, a slumbering dog by my side, and the Almighty’s gentle guidance.  Twenty years of nomadic sacrifice and days that lie ahead, all perfected in God’s loving hands.

Gosh, random business, thank you for the lovely sentiment.  Only one problem, I’m not dead, yet.