Wednesday, July 4, 2012

My cup runneth over...

The other day, (Herself's birthday) I took the kids to town to do a little mama b-day shopping.  I was trying to be sensitive to Isaiah, after hearing everyone keep talking about how cute Stu was.  I asked Isaiah if he wished he were as cute as Stu.  He adamantly shook his head and pronounced: "I don't want to be cute; I'm EIGHT!!" (he's seven, by the way, but it was lost on me at the time...)

I told him that was good, I was glad.  The reason I was glad, was because I don't want him to feel jealous or left out or envious of his little brother.  But the result was that Stu got a really cute but very worried look on his face and looked up and said "Daddy, is it BAD to be cute?"  

I just told him; no, and good thing for him.  Then I told him that cute just looks better on 5 year old's than eight year old's...  Of course, at that point, the girls just couldn't take it anymore and both started complaining about how offended they were that Isaiah is calling himself eight...

I have really enjoyed this weekend; it's been a good one for being a father.  I have had several good "teachable moments" that I have actually taken advantage of.  I am really enjoying this phase of life; having kids that I can talk to about serious things, like my faith, what to expect from the world, or how to behave in the face of adversity.  I enjoy that much more than wiping butts, looking for shoes, picking toddlers up out of mud.  My cup runneth over, and as I said in the B.O.B. meeting Sunday, I have had several occasions to remember that I that I have; all that I can do, or have done, I owe to god.  It has been the "Theme" of the weekend.  I feel that I was able to convey that thought effectively to my children; at least the older ones.  At least they realize that I take credit for nothing; I'm not really talking about material things, but for any kind of success that I have realized in life.  It would take me hours to write it out, but let me just say: "but for the grace of god..."

 It's been a great weekend; I got some things done around here, and it's been healing to my soul, worn thing by the constant chaffing of a 55-60 hour work week on an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, and dealing with the triple digit weather.  Come on Winter!  Or at least Fall...


Monday, June 25, 2012

Hog Roast

 I've been thinking; it sure is fun to be me!  It feels like I do all kinds of really cool stuff; but then I realized that most likely everybody thinks it cool to be "them" as well, because they do the stuff that they think is cool and fun.  As odd as it sounds, I'm sure there were lots of people that wouldn't want to butcher and cook a whole hog.  But on Saturday, I accomplished something that has been a lifelong dream of mine, and something that always thought would  be really cool to do.  I butchered and cooked a whole hog!

It was the biggest hog I had; I think the kids called him "Ham-ster." I sure he outweighed me; probably 170 pounds.  I will spare the gruesome pictures of blood and guts; I consider these pictures to be pretty G-rated.  After killing it and bringing it up to the shed, I hung it up and dumped it into the barrel of water next to it; heated up to around 160-180 degrees.  Once we dipped him and let him sit for a couple minutes, the hair came of really nicely! We just scraped him with my butcher knife and/or canning jar lids; it worked better than I had imagined.

Emma on the job!

 Washing the freshly scraped pig:

 After gutting it, we "butterflied" it, so that it would lay flat and cook more evenly.

 Prepping the Grill.  I made this grill about 5 years ago with this purpose in mind.  It took me several years of picking away at it to get it done.  One thing I am learning about life and about myself is that despite the fact that I want everything to happen all at once, it just takes time and patience.  And "stick-to-it-iveness."

 Moving the meat onto the grill.  It was a big challenge getting it into the grill.  I was pretty proud of us rookies; our time was from the pig walking around to meat on the grill in right at 3 hours!

 Done and ready to cook!

 This is ThePaulPage and I pulling it out after about 5 hours of cooking.  We are just going to flip it over and Endo it.  This time it was a little more nerve racking because it was very hot now...

Very unprofessional picture; can't figure out how to rotate this picture once I've uploaded it on to Blogger. Anyway, you get the idea; the meat is done.


Pulling the pig!  And eating a lot of it too!  Hard to not pick at it when your pulling...  It cooked for a total of 7 hours; should have had another hour on it, I think. It fell off the bone well enough, but could have been a little better.

It is too bad I don't have any pictures of people sitting around eating it; I think we just sort of forgot about the pictures.  I had requested a very low key event, in case it turned out bad or wasn't done soon enough.  I didn't want 50 hungry people sitting around mad because their food wasn't ready yet.  As it turned out, everything was OK and I have a little more confidence now about it...  
Afterwards, we vac-packed what we didn't give away and froze it in 1-2# packages.  Sunday, we had four out of four kids with racking coughs, so we didn't go to church, and I spent ALL morning and part of the afternoon cleaning up the shed even though I thought I had it pretty well cleaned up Saturday night. 

Monday, April 2, 2012

Survivor's Guilt

Yes, I've done it again; posted another completely un-funny, over-wordy, introspective blog that will be of benefit to no one but myself that few if any will have time to read. I know I seldom take time to read about other's torments. But I do feel better for it; I can't seem to flesh out my thoughts with out pen and paper (so to speak).


definition:
Survivor, survivor's, or survivors guilt or syndrome is a mental condition that occurs when a person perceives themselves to have done wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not.

As some of you will know, my family and I made a quick trip to colorado last week to attend the memorial of Wifey's 1st cousin, Paul (son of our very dear Aunt and Uncle) who tragically  died from a drug overdose last week at age 31. Paul, in so many ways, was the guy everybody would want to be, friendly and outgoing, a stranger to no one, and a joy to be around. While I haven't spent much time around him in the last several years, I understood that he had some issues with addictions that he just couldn't seem to shake, despite some serious efforts on his part.  Again, while I can't say that I knew him well and knew that he was saved, I feel that I know his parents well enough to be able to take their word for it that if they believed he was, then I do too; not that ultimately it makes one lick of difference what I believe, anyway.  It is especially striking to me as I always saw so many similarities between Paul and myself, besides the obvious similarities in doing drugs and being in rebellion towards God. 
We went, and mostly said nothing to our dear Aunt and Uncle, tried to stay out of their way and just show them that we loved them. It wasn't hard to say nothing; it felt like there was nothing to say, besides you don't much feel like chatting after just 3 hours of sleep and an eight hour drive.  It was so heart breaking to be there with them in their grief, though they bore it like heroes. Uncle even gave the eulogy, and the gospel was so well presented; I really felt that the service honored both God and Paul well.


I'm not sure how to go about explaining this, since it's so muddy in my own brain; but I do have some amount of guilt associated with Paul's death. I always just assumed that "he would get his act together," much as I did finally, well into adulthood, when I finally found God to be an irresistible force, and my own will broken. In retrospect, it seems so easy, so simple, I just made the decisions, then executed them from there. First "a", then "b", etc. I've often confessed to people that I have little compassion for people in similar situations. As I learned more and more of Paul's situation, I began feeling depressed; evil seems such a force, and so powerful.  I have been in a funk all weekend, so overwhelmed by all the emotions of others and my own, that I felt completely spent, and didn't want to go to the remembrance meeting this morning; yet so glad that I did. I struggled the whole meeting, wanting to say something, yet not really having anything to say, but the singing this morning was particularly sweet to me,  probably because I wasn't participating. I just sat back and listened to half a hundred or so saints washing the filth from my soul with pure voices lifting praises and thanksgiving to our lord. 



I write this sitting in the sun shine, on an ipad, from the seat of a four wheeler, watching my four perfectly healthy, beautiful children playing and screaming and splashing in my own pond, on my own place with just enough breeze to keep me from being too warm, lest I be uncomfortable.  I don't know about everybody else, but this seems as close to paradise on this side of heaven as it is likely to get. Here I sit, fulfilled and content with a belly full of home raised ham I ate for Sunday lunch, while Paul lies still in refrigeration because his estranged wife literally can't find her way out of Pennsylvania to Colorado in order to sign the paperwork to finish his cremation. Does this seem fair?  Does this seem like justice? Is this because of some merit of my own? Some great decision making process that Paul missed out on? I don't think so... But I'm reluctant to attribute it all to God; it makes him seem so capricious, so fickle, as if there is some great lottery that we are all a part of, whether we like it or not, when we know from his word that he desires all to be saved, and those of us that are to be holy.  It wasn't that one of us didn't have great parents; we both did. We were both taught the great truths from our cradles. Why is it that I don't now ever struggle with addictions to illegal drugs, even after I threw my whole being into them? Why do I seemingly suffer little if any adverse effects in my relationship with my wife despite living an impure life, not to mention one that was at that time of my life centered around pornography? Can you see why I am interested in this? Why this bothers me? Even if not for my own sake, but for the sake of me as a parent?
I find, however, that I am not alone in my affliction, which helps. I texted my good friend, who currently lives in the obscenely far off state of Texas two words : "survivor's guilt" and about a six word description of what happened to Paul, and that was the extent of the conversation; rather one sided.  Two days later I get a long email complete with verses that help tremendously. More than anything, I find it comforting and amusing that with just a short cryptic message that he was able to identify and relate to in some real way, my guilt for having lived through and even thrive where others haven't. I do believe that Paul's death was the most merciful of acts from the father. I just give him praise that he doesn't give justice to all such as me.
Here is one verse that was meaningful to me: 


1 Timothy 1:8-17
 12 I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because He considered me faithful, putting me into service, 13 even though I was formerly a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent aggressor. Yet I was shown mercy because I acted ignorantly in unbelief; 14 and the grace of our Lord was more than abundant, with the faith and love which are found in Christ Jesus. 15 It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all. 16 Yet for this reason I found mercy, so that in me as the foremost, Jesus Christ might demonstrate His perfect patience as an example for those [l]who would believe in Him for eternal life. 17 Now to the King [m]eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory [n]forever and ever. Amen.


And also, for those of you who literally have nothing better to do than follow my links around the internet, here is a new take on an old song that my friend and I are in agreement that is meaningful to both of us:
http://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/track/farther-along
This link will take to the artist's website where you can listen for free, read the lyrics, and download the album for free if you desire.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Photos for posterity: sewer system

Herself and I overheard our 2nd oldest girl say to our eldest in a loud whisper one night right after we put them to bed several years ago: "Let's talk about Poop!" That is what today's blog is about; or rather, how to get it from my shed to where it better belongs: the septic system.

This blog posting is pretty much for my interest only; I often take pictures of things I do that I may some day want to know where I buried them, placed them, etc, but sometimes it is difficult to find.   Blogspot seems about the most stable technology I have in my life right now, as Jeremy said something about Google folding up Picasa...(heartbreaking for me, if correct).

These are photos of me and my new friend Jim (local dirt/sewer guy) connecting the shed to the septic tank.  This early but very warm (80's) and windy spring of 2012 seems a good time to connect the two.




Below is a rare shot that would shock the locals.  I bet this is a very unique photo of Jim.  If you look closely, you can clearly see that he does NOT have a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  I was surprised to see that in this photo, as I can honestly say that I never noticed him without him having one in his mouth the whole two hours he was at my house.  An interesting side note was that even after paying attention for a while, I never did actually see him light one. Until I saw this photo, I was convinced that it was always the same one.


Below:  I hand dug this for about 30' from the shed because I knew there was a soft water line (shown as H2O) going to the Valdois' house, and an electrical supply at about 20' from shed wall.



Sunday, February 26, 2012

Your vote!

World's silliest 10 old, or world's most feckless father?
So the setup is this: lower 50's outside in the mid to latter part of February, and the kids are clambering to go swimming. They complain: "But it's so hot, daddy!" I can't convince them otherwise, so I think "why not?" Even I get tired of always being the bad guy. The girls are old enough to clean themselves up after jumping into the pond, and their mother isn't here to speak reason, so, "Sure!" The only stipulation was that I had to be there with my camera, ready for the facial expressions.
Credit to my eldest, she did it whole-hog! Didn't even stick her toe in the water first, just jumped right in. -Didn't take her very long to get back out, either! So then the other girl decided it maybe wasn't the greatest idea ever after all...
Maybe next time they will ask me my advice instead of my permission- hehe! I love it that my kids are getting old enough that they can be responsible for their own actions!
So what do you think; Is my blog aptly named, or what?!

Saturday, February 18, 2012

China Blog #19 (last entry)

So we made it home!. Since I wrote that last blog, we had to go through another flight delay and then our checked luggage didn't make it to Wichita with us. We didn't make it home til around 1:00 am. Poor Haley thought she was going to pick us at ten til 8, but she was cheerful and willing anyway! We were wiped out out after around 32 hours of traveling. Anyway, very good to be on terra firma! And home! Our bags just got delivered to our house moments ago, nearly 20 hours after we got here, so I think that we can officially wrap this series of blogs up and say our trip is completely over!!!

China Blog #18

Well, we missed our connection in LAX so we jumped a standby flight 2 hrs later. We are really glad Darrel and Barbara aren't going through LAX, as it is under massive construction, and was very confusing; but there was no way we could have made the connection; even though they put us through the express line as we went through customs because the airline knew it was tight. It didn't make any difference as our bags were the VERY last to come off of the jet. You know how many bags are on one of those big double deckers?  Lots! 
Anyway, we are now sitting in Houston waiting for the next flight to Wichita. We were able to get solid tickets instead of just being hopeful in getting spare seats, so we will be home tonight, barring a plane crash! Thanks for your prayers, this was something of a headache, but neither of us were very stressed. We just figured either we would either get home or we wouldn't. One of the other...
We are both tired and feel greasy as we have been up and/or traveling for nearly 30 hours now.