First Fishing Trip

Many years ago I used to go fishing. Then life got in the way, six kids and the need for lots of money. Then death got in the way. When my best friend died I basically stopped playing guitar and fishing. I sold our fishing gear at a garage sale. Then death loomed again and I started fishing again with my dad. My oldest son and I have been a few times. His friend Tom from Boston was visiting so all of us and my youngest daughter went fishing this weekend. Tom caught a few bluegill.


It was my daughter's first fishing expedition. She cut up worms, baited the hook and eventually learned to kiss the fish.


Kenz's first fish! Jesse shows his sister how to remove the hook without killing the fish. Kind of a girly experience but she got the hang of it. A fun day all in all...life is good.

Moo Takes a Bath

Watch the video HERE

BarseMoophius

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Moo at Daybreak

HERE

A Life Well Lived, Or....

...a death well died.

Well, once again the theme of death seems to come to the forefront after my Father's brush with his mortality last weekend.

Today "rightwingprof" who comments here is in the hospital fighting for his life. Inside of a week what was pain in his legs was discovered to be a body riddled with tumors.

Today a client that I've known for years is trying to decide whether or not to finish his last round of chemo-with-no-guarantees. He retired a multi-millionaire and a couple months later found out he had an incurable cancer and 6 months to live. I called him a few weeks ago and asked how he was doing and he said, "Not too bad for a chemistry experiment."

Most of us could multiply such stories and the irony of timing, mystery of circumstances and depth of tragedy. Such is life. Such is death.

Outside of putting one's self purposefully in harms way, how we live seems to have little bearing on what kills us and when. Neither life nor death is fair. Bacon eating smokers and drinkers live to be 100, vegan runners die at 30. The randomness of how people die and from what has no discernible relationship to their relative morality, type of faith or religion, philosophy or "niceness". Trekkies may give you Mr. Spock's Vulcan blessing "Live long and prosper", but in the end it is merely an incantation, much like "Have a nice day", or even "God bless you". In the end well wishes are shorthand for our unarticulated acknowledgement of the fact that people die young and destitute, the days are fraught with evil, and the need for control outside of ourselves of a hostile cosmos that seems to be hell-bent on killing us off in more random, surprising and horrific ways than six sequels of "Saw".

A Christian's life may or may not be as moral or healthy or happy or even "blessed" as the atheist's. Evangelism based on God "one upping" lifestyles that lack irony, tragedy and poverty is doomed to attract only the deluded and desperate and can only end in either deeper delusion and ultimately in despondency. The Christian Gospel requires a life of self restraint, sanctity and love for one's neighbor, but the Gospel does not claim that any of it is a talisman against the cosmic assault on our bodies and souls. The Christian is not called to overcome life, but himself. He is not called to live long and prosper, but to live well and be content in any state. He is not called to have a nice day, but as the Psalmist says, to offer up all days wherein we saw evil to God with thanksgiving. And in the end the Gospel points us to consider the randomness of life and the ultimate injustice: death.

Death is more real than life. Life is like the water the fish swim in. We don't think much about it unless something points us to our frailty, powerlessness and mortality. A split second encounter with death can change an entire 80 years of life. Life can be hypnotic, but death is the snap of the fingers that brings us out of all self made illusions.

In the end, the Gospel is about the overcoming of the power of death so that we may live without the illusion that a "good life" has any correspondence to a "life well lived". A life well lived is one lived without fear, in faith that no matter what life does to us, good or evil, and no matter how or when we die in the end all will be well, all will be well. A death well died is the final witness to whether we lived well or merely lived good.

As I wrote this the theme of death came up on several other blogs:

The Ochlophobist has a pithy blog post on Christian funerals HERE
(also read the link to John's excellent travelogue post on Texas graveyards).

And Sophocles has a reflection on death and the funerals of a nihilist punk rocker and a saint HERE

And today is Dia Del Muerto (The Day of the Dead) in the Mexican culture. I love the art.

Ultimate Prayer Smack Down Competition

Kimbo Slice has nuthin' on monks.


H/T to Allan

Wisdom of Older Women

After 40 years of being married, one day I was looking at my wife at supper and said, "You know, 40 years ago I had a cheap apartment, a crappy car, watched a ten inch black and white TV while eating hamburger helper after I got home from work, and slept on a sofa bed...but I got to sleep with a hot 25 year old girl every night."

"Now I have a two million dollar house, a BMW sport car, a chef's kitchen, a plasma screen TV and a Duxiana bed...but now I'm sleeping with a 65 year old woman. I don't think you're holding up your end of the bargain."

My wife is a very reasonable woman. She said, "I'll tell you what, you go find yourself a hot 25 year old girl and I'll make sure you live in a cheap apartment, drive a crappy car, eat hamburger helper and watch a ten inch TV again."

Truth in Advertising

Too bad they aren't all this honest.



And even more interesting, how they made the commercial



H/T to Silouan

Moona Lisa

Click HERE

My Father is My Brother

I drove to northern Arizona and picked up my parents yesterday afternoon to bring them down to Phoenix for my Father's heart procedure today.

Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know something about my Dad from things I wrote in previous posts.

My Dad is an "old school man". When he says anything about anything that most modern emo people would consider worthy of hours of pithy discussion over a venti frappucino carmel latte you have to listen carefully then read between the lines and then fill in the blanks. As we drove down the mountain roads he made small talk about football, basketball, hockey, the weather. Interspersed between his running commentary on the mundane he talked about his surgery.

"I really don't want to have this done but I figure I should at least find out what's going on" means: "I know this might be it."

At one point I told him Fr. Damian (our priest who he met at my ordination to the subdiaconate, and the first time he has been in a Church in probably 65 years or more) said he would be willing to come to the hospital and say some prayers before he went in for surgery... if he wanted him to. Dad said, "I'd really like that, thank you." Translation: "I know I could die on the table. I'm scared **itless."

We went to the hospital this morning and they took Dad in to prep him. Fr. Damian came and talked with my Mom (who raised us kids Roman Catholic alone) for a few minutes then we all went in together for the short visiting time they allow before the surgery. After a few minutes I said, "We'll go to the waiting room for a while and leave you guys alone for a bit." We left Fr. Damian and Dad alone in the room and waited. About twenty minutes later Fr. Damian came out and said, "Steven, your dad wants to be baptized and he wants you to be there."

I went into the pre-op room and assisted Fr. Damian with the baptism of my Father who 40 years before made fun of me mercilessly about my faith. When we finished the baptism my Dad looked at me and said, "I love you." I said, "I love you too, Dad...I've been praying for this for a long time." He had tears in his eyes. He said, "I know."

We brought my wife and daughter and Mom into his room. Fr. Damian, the Wifie, daughter and I sang "As Many as Have Been Baptized into Christ" for him.

The procedure went well. As they wheeled my Dad to post-op he said, "It looks good." and I said, "Yeah...now you'll have to make good on all those deals you made with God." He grinned. I'll drive them home tomorrow morning. In about 3 weeks I'll bring them down to Phoenix again when our Bishop visits. My Dad and Mom will be chrismated together then.

Thanks to all for your prayers. They have been answered beyond measure.

Demotivators