There is no place like.......

I sort of have this feeling today that the return of Tom Osborne to Nebraska football is being hailed as the second coming in my hometown. I'm sure my dad would be happy to confirm this if I were to call him. Stupid football. I love it.

Fifty Percent Chance of Smiting

I've played sidekicks to a host of characters portrayed by my four year old: Luigi to his Mario, Tails to his Sonic, Black Spiderman to his Spiderman, and on and on. Today is a new one on me. Today we are playing God and Jesus. Is that even legal?

Legalities aside, the four year old is playing Jesus and I have been assigned the role of God. Our job is making people. I have been given the additional job of making bugs. You may be wondering to yourself why the four year old would give lead role, God, to me. Here's the thing, I don't think he did. In his mind I think Jesus is the lead. It makes sense if you think about it from the perspective of a four year old. Or, for a forty four year old for that matter. The bulk of bible class time is about Jesus. Jesus was "real", accessible. God is..... out there. It's something I'd thought about before but this sort of brings it into focus. How do I make God more real. To the four year old, to myself. Maybe the answer comes through Jesus. I guess I've got my work cut out for me.

Here are a couple of side notes of interest that I learned today. Apparently the business of making people is a messy one that requires the use of safety goggles. Also, did you know that there are no tootsie rolls in heaven?

One of our "creations"

*Edit* Ok, I know the Trinity should get equal billing. Notice that the Holy Spirit was left on the cutting room floor of my little scenario. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. That's one of those things I haven't figured out yet.

Stepping out of the nest.

My oldest is off with his father today to visit a university. I am suddenly struck with the realization that this is our last October with him. We already spent our last September with him. Honestly, most days are just like any other but sometimes I look at him through different eyes and marvel at how time has passed. I make it entirely clear to him that we would fully support and even encourage him to stay at home and go to junior college for a year or more till he is completely sure of his direction in life. Generally this makes for great motivation to get him to write his college essays or do some other college related preparations.

What will he be when he grows up? I haven't a clue. The kid is a blank slate. I think that is why he needs to get out of the house. There is only so much you can learn about yourself under your parent's roof and I think he needs to get out there and "find himself". I refuse to be sad about this. Sometimes I wonder why. Is something wrong with me? Maybe it's because our house is so crowded. More likely it is because I remember the excitement and thrill I had when leaving home. I did it completely wrong. I was way too young, instead of easing my way out I bolted and I was nowhere near ready. But I did it and I figured it out. Mostly. I'm still figuring some things out. It works, though, it's the way God made us. Eventually we all want to leave our parents. So when the time comes I am prepared to shed tears but I will do so in the spirit of celebration.

Grandma

My Grandma died three weeks ago on September 21st 2007 at age ninety six. It still hasn't sunk in, even though we all knew it was coming. I guess I just took it for granted that she would always be around. She intended to be around, I think. Last I heard she was planning to match her sister's one hundred years. In the end I believe she just kind of tired of living and let go. She died around 12:15 A.M. and I can't get it out of my head that she waited till after midnight on purpose. September 20 is my birthday. Grandma was like that, she never wanted to be inconvenient in any way.

Some of my favorite memories:

I think my poor Grandma used to hold herself responsible for the success or failure of the many sporting teams she supported, but none more than the Huskers during football season. I'll never forget the time I called home during a game and my dad informed me that Grandma was hiding behind the fridge because the Huskers were losing. That still cracks me up.

When I was little my hair was very long and very fine but I had a LOT of it and it was always in tangles. I would throw a fit when my mom tried to brush it because it hurt so bad. My Grandma had the touch. On our visits to her house I looked forward to her sitting beside me and gently working through my hair till it was untangled and she could brush through it pain free. It was magical.

My Grandma had one sister and one brother. I never met her brother. When talking about her sister Grandma would often insinuate that her sister was the "good" girl and she was the "bad" girl. One afternoon my dad and I took Grandma on a drive through the small towns in eastern Nebraska where she grew up. She pointed out many landmarks to us including the spot where she and Grandad used to spend time "sparking" when they were dating. TMI Grandma.

After 9/11 I called my Grandma to get perspective on things. Among the things we discussed were Pearl Harbor, World War Two in general and the assassination of JFK. Perspective is a wonderful and healing thing. I am so thankful to have had access to it.

There are a lot of things I hope I will inherit from my Grandma eventually. Her selflessness. Her attitudes of tolerance and acceptance. Her love of family. Her love of reading; I still have stacks of books that she gave me. Her patronage of the Arts.

As I said before it hasn't really sunk in yet that she is gone but grief has a way of sneaking up on me. A week ago at church I was sitting there with a rotten attitude and not wanting to sing. Someone sat down behind me with a beautiful singing voice and my attitude did a one-eighty. Slowly, my thoughts drifted to my Grandma. I never heard her sing but everyone said what a beautiful Alto voice she had and out of nowhere I was fighting back tears. I was well on my way to some serious sobbing so I left and got control of myself. I think little things like that will creep up on me till we have time to grieve her as a family at her memorial service.

Above all, I am thankful for the time I got to spend with her and for the fact that she was able to meet all my children.

Rest in peace Grandma.