Blessed

As I was leaving his dorm after dropping him off, my son hugged me and told me, “Thanks for giving me a ride Dad. I love you.” I knew he meant it. As I drove home, I talked to my dad on the phone, and heard him say, “I love you too.” I knew he meant it. I am truly blessed.

Say what??!!

 The mind is a deep, deep labyrinth.  I was talking to Dad earlier today and he asked me in very clear words (but without clear context as I believe he was confused about where he was, possibly Taiwan?) about someone's "index of acculturation."  I looked it up and apparently there's a sociologic scale developed in Vancouver that measures immigrants alignment with American culture and values.  I don't ever remember hearing Dad mention those words in my life! 

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer" (Romans 12:12 ESV)

One of the most difficult truths about life is the mysterious way God often will use something He hates in this broken world to accomplish something good and lovely.  Almost everything about Dad's dementia (apparently Lewy Body Dementia, along with its wretched hallucinations) is despicable and cruel, especially in the irony that Dad had spent his career caring for "crazy people" unlinked to reality, and now his mind's ruined connections bring him to think there are kids in the room or that someone's going to imminently harm him.  Other parts of his dementia are the more run-of-the-mill forgetfulness or disorientation such as when we were on the phone the other night, and he asked me to pray for him (we often close our conversations with prayer).  I did of course, giving thanks for our time to talk and asking for healing and peace.  Not long after I prayed, Dad asked for prayer again, and we went together to our heavenly Father asking His grace again.  Once more, not long afterward, Dad asked yet again, & I chuckled as I led us again to God's throne-room to thank Him for His favor in Christ.

My prayer life is not what I want it to be; it's less frequent and less deep than I hope for.  I often fail to grasp my need for God's transformation and often fail to trust His power and willingness to intervene in this world.  But all of that is silly when I remember what He did for me at the cross.

Thanks God, for letting me come before You three times with Dad that day.  I'm grateful that one day on the Other Side, Dad and I will be able to laugh (and cry?) about it with You together. 

Taiwanese proverb

Dad, do you know the origin of this proverb? It sounds very Biblical…might it have been a pastor or missionary?

Tu-tio chhi-lian na kian-ko*
chhin-chhiu(n) ng-kim lo hoe-lo*


"Facing trials makes one stronger
As gold [becomes more pure] when put into the crucible"

It's been awhile... let's do it in style!

At first I thought it'd been over twenty years since my last college course until I remembered I'd taken the Bible overview course at Westminster Seminary in Escondido back in 2005, in preparation for fulltime mission service.  All the same, over 14 years is a pretty long time since attending class, studying, and taking tests for a college course.  It's been especially meaningful, however, as I'm taking this new course (Spanish 3, which is a good fit even though we had tested into higher levels) with my 13 year old son!  Below, our first day of class together, as well as today in the car as we crammed for the midterm. 

Too cool to say it at school?

Last week on Jadon's second day of junior high (in a new district with yet another new start for him, Lord help him), I had the singular joy of reciprocated expression of love: as we parted at the gate I told him I love him, and he was willing to reply with the same, along with the ASL "I love you" handsign.

Contrast that with what happened within days with Evangelina as I brought her to school.  We were walking in from the parking lot and I began to quietly sing my love for her when I was rudely interrupted.  "Shhhh!  Daddy, don't say it so loud!"

"I love you M--"

(In hushed tones...) "--Shhh!  There are people here!"

Then, as Evangelina looks around and noticed that the people passed to a sufficient distance from us, my daughter relents with the command, "OK, now say it."

Sí, soy padre, pero no suyo

With regularity I tell my patients it is an honor to care for them, in part to let them know their value for themselves, but also as a reminder to myself of their value before God... especially when the patient happens to be a "difficult" one, when they bring problems that I feel are beyond my own resources to help them.  I do not like to overstate the spiritual nature of the doctor-patient relationship, but I still am surprised at how much of their lives we are privy to, often even more than their own spouses or parents.  These are amazing God-given opportunities to impact His kingdom in people's lives, whether it be in an overtly spiritual way (eg: praying with them for their needs), or not overtly spiritual at all (eg: carefully listening to and addressing their physical needs).  The other week I was caring for an older Spanish-speaking woman in what I thought was not overtly spiritual at all, and as I finished the visit and got up to leave the room she said, "Gracias Padre" before she quickly corrected herself, "Gracias Doctor." 

It had been a while since a patient mistakenly called me "Pastor" (usually followed by a quick correction "Doctor" in amused embarrassment), but this is the first time I can remember being called "Padre."

Gracias, Dios mio, por este gran recordatorio que mi trabajo me presente las oportunidades para edificar su reino.