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Wedding Feast Rehearsal

On Thursday I had the opportunity to attend the rehearsal dinner for my oldest son’s wedding. I was taken aback a little when most of the ladies were dressed in their First Communion Dresses. I supposed that was the format. Joshua and Kelsie were married on Friday evening, to the general delight and satisfaction of their assembled friends and family. We greatly enjoyed witnessing this momentous occasion as the newlyweds embark on the adventure of their marriage.

It was such fun to celebrate with Joshua and Kelsie.

It was such fun to celebrate with Joshua and Kelsie.

Being the father of the groom is a pretty good gig. Kelsie’s family took care of the reception and nearly all of the details of the wedding itself — all I had to do was show up, wear a suit, and pay for the rehearsal dinner. But I must admit, I had some misgivings a few weeks ago, when Kathy told me that I’d be providing a blessing at the end of the dinner.

Getting the room ready for the rehearsal dinner ...

Getting the room ready for the rehearsal dinner …

“A blessing?” I pictured some saint of old like Jacob or Isaac, blessing his sons on his deathbed. “I’m not sure I can pull off the whole patriarch thing,” I told Kathy (although I do have a beard). Later, on the phone, Joshua assured me that I was expected to make some final remarks at the Rehearsal Dinner. I decided I would put some thought into what I would say, rather than trusting entirely in my ability to extemporize. “You might want to make a few notes,” Kathy wisely counseled.

Little did I know that the testimonies and speeches during this event would be one of the highlights of my life.

It began with some of Kelsie’s family reflecting on her character and their relationship with her. Several had notes to which they frequently referred as they related various amusing anecdotes — I began to wish I had followed Kathy’s advice.

Michelle's idea to put up Christmas lights was excellent -- it really transformed the room.

Michelle’s idea to put up Christmas lights was excellent — it really transformed the room.

But then several of the groomsmen stood to speak about Joshua, and several of the bridesmaids spoke about Kelsie, and I began to realize that this was much more than a rehearsal dinner. This was a sacred celebration of the work of the Holy Spirit in and through the students of Union University, and I was privileged with a front-row seat to the Christian community which had been built during the years that Joshua and Kelsie were in Tennessee.

We were blithe enough when we sent Joshua off to school at Union University. He had received a full tuition scholarship, and we really liked what we heard about the school from his cousin, Rebecca. Joshua’s faith in God was solid — we had little fear that he would fall away from the Lord as so many do, when they begin re-inventing themselves in college.

Rehearsal dinner preparation is always better with a coffee from Starbucks.

Rehearsal dinner preparation is always better with a coffee from Starbucks.

But I guess we didn’t really think through what would happen when Joshua got to school — how he would begin to intentionally surround himself with a cohort of other like-minded men of God, and what they would build through purposeful, obedient conviction, walking in faith together. As each of the young men and women stood and spoke about godliness, faithfulness and purity, I felt as though I was attending a rehearsal for the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,

“Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.
Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
and his Bride has made herself ready;
it was granted her to clothe herself
with fine linen, bright and pure”

– for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.
And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.” — Revelation 19:6-9

We walked through the ceremony twice, and then settled into a back room of the church, crammed wall-to-wall with tables and chairs. With a wedding party of two-dozen, plus family members, we were a snug group of fifty or so.

I was worried about how tight the seating was, but it actually turned out very well -- it gave the meal a very intimate feel.

I was worried about how tight the seating was, but it actually turned out very well — it gave the meal a very intimate feel.

It was my role to conclude the time with my blessing — so as people were finishing the meal, I stood and warned the assembled wedding party and families that when I next stood up, their opportunity to speak would end. Then I sat back and enjoyed the show.

Two hours later, I leaned over to Kathy. “Should I put an end to this? Surely people have sat in these chairs long enough?”

It took some effort to fit the wedding party across the front of the church, but we eventually managed.

It took some effort to fit the wedding party across the front of the church, but we eventually managed.

Kathy encouraged me to sit tight, and I settled back into my chair as two or three more people stood to testify. Each story contributed to the central theme: that Christ is glorified in Joshua and Kelsie, but also among the other students of that college in a rare and deeply-satisfying way.

What a lovely group of bridesmaids!  Kelsie is very blessed to have so many dear sisters and friends.

What a lovely group of bridesmaids! Kelsie is very blessed to have so many dear sisters and friends.

I realized that I wanted my younger sons and the other young men present to hear these testimonies — to catch a vision for what God can do when a few young people stand together in obedience to His Word and the Holy Spirit. As I later commented in my blessing, we were witnessing the joining of three families — Joshua and Kelsie’s natural families, plus the family of faith that they had built at Union.

If ever a father could have his dearest wish, it was granted to me, as I sat in that back room of the church: heart full of joy, tears brimming in my eyes, listening to the closest friends and relatives of my son and soon-to-be daugther-in-law speak of the work of Jesus in their lives. Truly John wrote: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” — 3 John 1:4

Thank you, Joshua and Kelsie, and thank you to all of your friends and relatives for so many kind and Christ-honoring words. Thank you, Debbie Le, Michelle Kuhlmann and Beckie Madson for slaving behind the scenes to make the rehearsal dinner a success. And thank you, Lord Jesus, for granting us new life and joy and making all this possible!

Project 365, Day 351
Tim

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Blue Platoon Honor Man

This Fall has offered many exciting opportunities for David, as he embarks on his High School career. One such opportunity has been to follow in his older brothers’ footsteps, participating in the Naval Junior Reserve Officer’s Training Corps (ROTC) program at a nearby high school.

"Sir, yes sir!"

“Cadet Recruit Recruit reporting for duty, Sir!”

It has been fascinating for me to watch him learning to march, how to wear a uniform, and to memorize the Orders of the Sentry. Even learning how to dress in ‘business casual’ attire (as they do sometimes when they don’t wear their uniform) is such a valuable skill for a young man. We are very proud of how David is excelling in the program.

Participating in NJROTC  and running Cross Country in the same semester has been rather grueling for David.

Participating in NJROTC and running Cross Country (at two different high schools) in the same semester has been rather grueling for David.

Whenever they can get the local military bases to cooperate, the Junior ROTC program sends all the new recruits away to a Basic Leadership Training (BLT) weekend, where they are given the chance to learn some simple soldiering skills and to be shouted at by Marine instructors. This last weekend was BLT for David and the other recruits of his class; of course, it rained hard the entire weekend.

"These are the future leaders of the Cadet Corps," predicted the Colonel, as David and a few others were promoted to E-2.

“These are the future leaders of the Cadet Corps,” predicted the Colonel, as David and a few others were promoted to E-2.

Cadet families were invited to attend an award ceremony when the kids returned from BLT — David received a participation award, a swim qualification, and (most prestigious) Honor Man for his platoon. As a result of his exceptional conduct and achievement, David was promoted to Seaman Apprentice (E-2), skipping over the E-1 rank. Next time he wears his uniform, he’ll have two new ribbons and a shiny medal pinned to his chest, in addition to the ribbon for being Cadet of the Month.

This photo was taken even before David got his first ribbon.

This photo was taken even before David got his first ribbon.

It is remarkable to see how quickly David has acquired military bearing, and it warms my heart to hear him address other adults respectfully as “Sir” and “Ma’am”. I am excited to see how military skills and disciplines will open doors of opportunity in David’s life.

David's signature thumbs-up, waiting for the BLT ceremony to begin.

David’s signature thumbs-up, waiting for the BLT ceremony to begin.

Great job winning the coveted Honor Man award, David! We are so proud of you!

Project 365, Day 320
Tim

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Let the Rains Begin

When you live in Western Washington, there comes a time in the Fall when you need to brace yourself.

I suppose this is true nearly anywhere that has swings in the weather — certainly, when we lived in Michigan, there was a time when you needed to brace yourself for the winter ice and snow. (And break out the shovel, snow-blower, rock salt, pick-axe, and any other heavy machinery you might need.)

But here we brace ourselves against the Rains of November™. And so I dove into the hall closet and brought out (with great reverence) the awesome raincoat that Kathy’s Mom gave me back in 1999 when we first moved here.

“You’re moving to Washington, you’ll need a good raincoat,” she told me. Never have truer words been spoken.

The raincoat she gave me is an exceptionally waterproof garment — it makes a duck’s back look positively porous. It is made by L. L. Bean, Stowaway model, very light-weight and with special Velcro closures at the wrist. It also has lots of waterproof pockets, always to be desired in a good raincoat.

When the rains settle in, it is possible for them to stay for months at a time. When we first moved to Washington in March of 1999, people were talking about ’90 consecutive days of rain’. They tended to look a little wild when they talked about it.

We have a new rule in our household: if we want to have ice cream and if we want to watch any kind of video or show after supper, we must go for a walk. As you may know, I will do nearly anything for ice cream, and so Sarah and I pulled ourselves together with appropriate rain gear.

Neither snow nor rain nor dark of night ...

Neither snow nor rain nor dark of night …

When you raise children in Washington, there are certain deleterious side effects which are not immediately obvious. Contrary to popular opinion, people from Western Washington do not actually have moss growing on the backs of their necks and behind their ears. But there are definitely some internal chemistry changes which occur, and it is possible there is also some unfortunate neurological damage.

David and I were driving a few blocks from our home for a sandwich at Subway, and he looked out the windshield at the rain and clouds, and sighed happily.

“Don’t you just love a good, rainy Sunday?” he asked. I returned his gaze rather blankly, not being Washington-bred.

Later during our meal, when the sun broke through some clouds, he became visibly annoyed. “It just won’t be as fun, playing Ultimate, without the rain,” he grumbled.

Some people who move from California to Washington can experience SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). They buy special sun lamps to fight against the depression that the cloudy skies brings. What will happen to my children if they grow up and move to Phoenix or San Diego? Will they buy special cloud generators for their homes and offices? Time will tell, I guess.

The increasingly-innacurately-named Project 365 — Day 305
Tim

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Semicentennial Photoblog

Every once in a long while, a person reaches a milestone of importance. People graduate from various schools, achieve promotions, invest in important relationships, and generally press ‘further up and further in’ (as C.S. Lewis would say) as they make their way through life.

I've always liked Lewis' Last Battle, in spite of the troubling theological implications.

I’ve always liked Lewis’ Last Battle, in spite of the troubling theological implications.

For all my seeming potential, my life has been somewhat lacking in distinction. I graduated from college after nine years and only by the skin of my teeth, and I’ve achieved only modest promotions in my career. I did manage to acquire a beautiful and talented (trophy?) wife and five awesome children, but it is hard to say how much of that redounds to my personal credit. If there has been any consistent pattern to my life, it is that I’ve generally benefited from the achievements of others and stood on their shoulders.

You've got to admit, I did have lots of potential, if nothing else.  (That's me on the right.)

You’ve got to admit, I did have lots of potential, if nothing else. (That’s me, stalwart, on the right.)

But the relentless march of time ensures that certain milestones come to every person, if they can manage to simply survive, and so yesterday I celebrated my 50th birthday. There are many who were surprised by this, since I was voted “Most likely to be killed by a low-flying blimp” in several student publications.

My ancient foe, seeking another victim.

My ancient foe, seeking another victim.

Since Kathy is away in Michigan, caring for her Mom in her convalescence, I was left to my own devices to celebrate the big day (or so I thought). Little did I know that Kathy’s arm is as long as her minions are resourceful.

Not Kathy's actual minion horde.

Not Kathy’s actual minion horde.

The day started in a promising way — Tina R. offered to drive the JNROTC boys both ways, as a birthday present. Since David and Will’s Drill Team meets at 0-dark-30, this was a significant sacrifice, and it allowed me to sleep in for an extra 3 hours of burrowed bliss. Eventually, I showered and rushed off to church to pick up a meal that Nicole O. made for David and me, since it is a known fact that neither of us can do much more than boil water. En route, I received a cheerful call from my oldest daughter, who wanted to be the first to officially wish me ‘Happy Birthday’. It was so good to hear from her, and to be encouraged by the way God is blessing her ministry among the freshmen, there at college.

Arriving home, I discovered that Kathy’s minions had made a breakfast delivery in my absence. Breakfast biscuits, hash browns, Diet Coke and orange juice … and (most importantly) a goodly stock of Nutella!

Breakfast of Champions, albeit not especially long-lived champions.

Breakfast of Champions, albeit not especially long-lived champions.

As David and I happily munched our breakfast sandwiches, I confided: “This is going to be a good day, I can tell.” (Some people probably think that my intuitive prescience is legendary.)

I decided to open the huge birthday present that had arrived the day before. It turned out to be a really nice pressure-washer, just what I had wanted (but had not really expected or hoped to receive)!

My actual pressure washer, rated at a respectable 2030 PSI.

My actual pressure washer, rated at a respectable 2030 PSI.

Soon I got word that my namesake nephew and his bride and toddler would be joining me for dinner — a dinner that I was now able to host, thanks to Nicole’s generosity! Next, I heard from Peter, who wanted to take me out for a birthday lunch. I managed to persuade him and John to come to my house for lunch instead, since I hoped to draft them into assembling my pressure-washer.

I even put out a tablecloth to lend a certain dignity to this auspicious day.

I even put out a tablecloth to lend a certain dignity to this auspicious day.

Whipping up a salad, sharing the Shepherd’s Pie that my Mom made for me, and breaking out the Black Forest birthday cake she thoughtfully created, we sat down to enjoy a hearty and delightful lunch. Determined to treat me to some kind of lunch, Peter kindly brought me take-out Panang Curry from a nearby Thai restaurant, which I lovingly stored in the fridge for a rainy day. Rainy Fall days come pretty often in Western Washington.

John needed to build up his strength for the upcoming engineering work in assembling my power-washer.

John needed to build up his strength for the upcoming engineering work in assembling my power-washer.

Once Peter and John had successfully assembled my pressure-washer under my critical eye, I leapt into action on the driveway. Although ten years of moss and embedded grime cannot be easily erased, I feel that I made some significant difference with my first pass. I’m excited to try it on the back patio, which is covered in moss.

One of these sides is different from the other; I hope you can tell which.

One of these sides is different from the other; I hope you can tell which.

Exhausted from my labors, I sat down and spent more than an hour reviewing Facebook birthday wishes including a particularly amusing and touching video presentation by Daniel, and a sweet email from Sarah, my youngest daughter. Then I briefly played my computer game until it was time to drive David around town. (David seems to require a lot of transport, these days; I think it is a plot to incentivize us to allow him to drive as early as possible.)

How many cake decorators can spell out the age of the celebrant in sweet cherries?  Pretty much only my Mom, I think.

How many cake decorators can spell out the age of the celebrant in sweet cherries? Pretty much only my Mom, I think.

Timothy, Sunny and John Mark arrived around 5:30, and we sat down to a delightful meal of pineapple chicken and stir-fry, followed by more Black Forest cake. Noticing our sink full of dishes, Sunny kindly emptied and then refilled the dishwasher, while Timothy vainly tried to keep pace with John Mark as he dashed around, looking for trouble. I looked on with my best “I’m helpless and besides, it’s my birthday” facial expression.

I’ve been practicing that facial expression for days in the mirror, and I must say, I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

Somehow I neglected to get a picture of Timothy and Sunny and John Mark -- here is one from earlier this Summer, instead, with a bonus cameo of my brother and his lovely bride.

Somehow I neglected to get a picture of Timothy and Sunny and John Mark — here is one from earlier this Summer, instead, with a bonus cameo of my brother and his lovely bride.

With John Mark loudly declaring he was ready for bed, Timothy and Sunny decamped, and were soon replaced by Don, Jeff, Peter and John, who came for games (and more Black Forest cake). In a surprising burst of birthday generosity, they even permitted me to win the game (we played Chaosmos).

Round up the usual gaming suspects.

Round up the usual gaming suspects.

It was a pretty good day. It makes one almost want to live another 50 years, if only in hopes of securing another such celebration.

Truth be told, I am very thankful. Thankful to so many who helped to make this a memorable and satisfying birthday, and thankful to my Sweetie for engineering much of it from afar. Most of all, I’m thankful to my God, who has given me breath and sheltered me in His hand, all these years.

Project 365, Day 282
Tim

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Birthday Compromise

Over the years, I’ve discovered that things are not always black and white, ones and zeroes. This has been a difficult lesson for me to learn, since by nature and by vocation I tend to be very definite and decisive. Much as I would prefer otherwise, sometimes truth lies in the synthesis of disparate ideas.

This was brought home to me by the celebration of my birthday. Yesterday, while I was at work in the city, my parents showed up here at home with a Shepherd’s Pie* and a Black Forest Cake to commemorate my 50th birthday.

You can imagine David’s puzzlement, as they insisted that my birthday is on the 6th of October.

“But, Grandma, Dad’s birthday is on the 8th.”

“No, we celebrate his real birthday,” my Mom scolded him. “Not two days late, like the rest of you.”

At some point in my early teens, my Mom forgot which day was actually my birthday and accidentally celebrated it on the 6th. Unwilling to admit she made a mistake, Mom has steadfastly insisted on her birthday conspiracy theory, ever since. My birth certificate, my passport, and early childhood memories all agree that my birthday is on the 8th. But my Mom casually dismisses all this. “That doctor didn’t know what he was writing, as drunk as he was. Who would know better, the Department of Motor Vehicles, or me?”

Poised for action, but dare I celebrate my birth on a spurious day?

Poised for action, but dare I celebrate my birth on a spurious day?

There is really no answer to such a claim. Clearly, I dare never run for President, lest I spawn my own birther movement.

But if there is anything that I enjoy nearly as much as Nutella, it is my Mom’s delectable beef stew pie and exquisite Black Forest Cake. So when David and I got home from AWANA this evening, the thought of that pie and the cake in the fridge was almost more than we could bear.

“Tonight we should taste one or the other, of the pie or cake,” David demanded.

“But it isn’t my birthday, yet,” I wailed, weakening in the face of our mutual hunger.

Then an idea struck me. If my Mom (who made the pie and cake) insists that my birthday is on the 6th, and all other documentation shows it on the 8th, then what can I do but compromise and celebrate on the 7th? We agreed to save the cake for tomorrow, but to break out the Shepherd’s Pie* tonight. It seemed a reasonable synthesis.

Mmmmmmmm.

Mmmmmmmm.

Project 365, Day 280

Tim

* I know that the true definition of a “Shepherd’s Pie” is quite different from the beef pie that my Mom makes, but this is the name by which I have always called it, and I’m not about to start changing now. There are limits to my ability to compromise, after all.

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