I found the handwritten letter on Pappy's old desk. Apparently, there had been "drama" around the old Scott place the night before. "Keaton, I take it Kristin was trying to mess with your hair last night?"
He nodded, exasperated. "Uh huh."
"Let me guess -- she wanted to make it look ridiculous, then laugh herself silly at you?"
"Uh huh."
My wish for each of you is that you have a set of Twins, at least one of which is "high spirited." Well, "then again, I wish for alot of things."
I try to keep blogs short, under 800 words. I apologize that I have struggled to write this for 2 years and cannot get it under 800 words. Hopefully the heartfelt sincerity of this story will atone for its lack of brevity.
The Age of Miracles is Over.
So says conventional wisdom. But that January in 2008, the Reverend Steve Bolen had a different perspective. "My goal… my dream, is that each one of you will experience a miracle in 2008," he said, his voice steady and resolute. I sat in the pew, listening. Steve Bolen is no sideshow charlatan; he is the über-discerning overseer of a large flock of thoughtful people. What? Miracles? I listened and tried to tune into his frequency. He said many things, but the way it came home for me was this: to accomplish a miracle, you must allow -- more than allow, truly enable -- a thing to happen that you think is literally impossible.
Immediately, I knew what Kathy's "Miracle" was. To be reconciled with her father, with whom she has not spoken or seen since she was 11 years old.
Thirty five years is a long time without your father. There was a bitter divorce. A mother who remarried and moved her far away from her life in Kentucky down south to Texas. A heart-stricken father who felt that his youngest was slipping away forever. Terrible words were exchanged -- "you will never see me again." Difficult for a child, but also impossibly difficult for a father in pain. When I first met her as student in Denton many years ago she was 22 and had spent half of her life without her father. She is one of the strongest people you will ever meet, but the hole in her heart over her father was palpable. After being married some years, she sought counseling to "get over it. "I’m going to have to let him go, without regrets," she said. Any notion of a reconciliation became a dim memory of lost hope.
But Steve Bolen's inspiration suddenly opened the possibilities wide. Reconciling with her father? Impossible, wasn't it? When we got back home I asked her what she thought of Steve's sermon.
"I thought it was intriguing," she replied.
"I know what your 'Miracle' is," I said quietly. "We are going to Kentucky in September for your grandfather's 95th birthday. Your dad will only be a few hours away. Let’s -- just show up at his door. This is your business and it's up to you, but I have to tell you, it seems like the right thing to do. Well, if we are going to believe in a Miracle."
She stared at me, speechless. The conversation was short. I didn’t bring it up again, but she did about a month before we left for Kentucky. "I think we should do it," she said. She spoke to her sister, who had maintained a relationship with their father, and who agreed. What we didn’t know was that there would be an angel in the middle of this exercise to help bring this Miracle to life -- her father's girlfriend, Karen, a delightful soul who would be let in on this secret and help set the stage.
It’s a great idea to surprise him, she conveyed through Kathy’s sister, putting us all more at ease. She cooked up a feast beforehand and even had the piano tuned so that the Scott kids could show off just a little. And as Karma would have it, the weekend we planned to arrive, her dad’s siblings were visiting, a sort of mini-family reunion setting the table for a much more dramatic one.
It was a long drive there, and when we rolled up the hilly driveway to Ken's house that day, I felt somewhat sick. I can only imagine how Kathy felt. Thirty five years of absence and hurt sets the stage for grand drama and a real case of butterflies. I will never forget walking up to the door and knocking, or the look on Ken's face when he saw the daughter he had not seen in so many years.
Kathy had always said of her father, "we loved each other so much. He was so funny and full of life." The man I met that day, the father-in-law I had never met, was a delight. Keenly intelligent. Funny as hell. And, most importantly, immediately accepting of a long lost daughter and her family. Whatever had caused years of hurt and pain melted away like the cold ice of winter into the green leaves of spring. It was a moment bright with love and redemption, and it was an utter miracle -- for neither Kathy, nor me, nor anyone in her family, probably including Ken -- thought it even remotely possible. Thank you, Steve Bolen. I write with moist eyes to tell you that from your words sprang the realization of an impossible dream. Had we not been there to hear your words that day, this amazing Life Moment would never have happened.
Kathy and her father have stayed in close touch since. There is no dwelling on the past, for as the jazz musician Babatunde Olatunji said, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today? Today is a gift. That's why we call it the ‘present.’” The joy of living in the midst of a Miracle is that it evaporates old painful memories, leaving the old nostalgic ones in their place as a backdrop to the happiness of a new Today.
"The sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' Look what happens with a love like that. It lights up the whole sky." -- the Sufi mystic Hafiz
And even I would not be shortchanged in this year of Miracles. That January day “my” impossible miracle popped into my head, but I quickly dismissed it. My brother Dan, lost to me so many years, far over a decade. Not literally a brother, but more literally a brother than most brothers. We had lost touch, both moved around the country, and I couldn’t find him. I am good at finding people -- I spent years tracking down my Ohio family -- but I could not find Dan despite many, many hours of trying. Finding him seemed impossible, although listening to Steve that day, I thought "I'll find him, eventually." Somewhere in some distant place there was a "click," because sometimes The Universe -- God by any other name -- has surprises in store for us. About a month later, I received a message on my Batcave site. "Guess who?" it said. No idea. An email came in the next day... “Que Pasa?” from sender “Dan Endres.” I sat staring at the screen. In the midst of my impossibility, it seems that Dan had been looking for me for quite some time. When I started Blogging some years ago, leaving a crumb-trail to be found was definitely one of my reasons why. And as it turned out, this was a critical piece of making it happen. Seeing him and his daughter Alie in Austin that summer was my highlight of the year.
What should you make of all this, Gentle Browser? Perhaps it means that whether you are a hymn-singing Baptist, a loyal Catholic, a mystical possibilities-oriented Unity practitioner, or a confirmed Agnostic, there is a Principle which can affect and change your life. “I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you,” Jesus said. Part of such Faith is the very active act of putting-your-actions-where-your-thoughts are. The Buddha echoes this sentiment: “However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act on upon them?"
Miracles come to those who Believe. And even more so to those who make it so. Blessings.
With much love and gratitude for my friend Rev. Steve Bolen, a true and sincere light illuminating the path...
It was kiddie's bedtime minus ten, which is a little later than most in our house, and Keaton and I were laying on the batcouch watching a Dave Matthews concert. Suddenly, Kristin piped up from down the hall.
"DAD! There is a big spider in Keaton's room!" "Well, then step on it or smack it with a shoe," I replied, half-asleep. I could hear some kind of commotion. "DAD!!! DAD!!!" "Kristin. You are the bravest girl I know. You catch bugs and lizards. Just smack it." "DAD! It's… I think it's a TARANTULA! PLEASE come here."
Muttering under my breath, I got off the couch and went into Keaton's room, where all three kids were now assembled, pie-eyed. They looked like they had seen a ghost. I took a look by Keaton's desk.
"Nice try, Kristin. That's fake." "DAD! It's not fake! It's MOVING its legs!"
She was right.
There was some debate about what to do -- "do NOT step on that" I said, and probably shouldn't have mentioned that tarantulas can jump about 8 feet, which immediately cast a macabre, spooky atmosphere in the room. Kellen argued for trapping it in a "big pot from the kitchen," but we finally decided on a Tupperware cereal container, and when Kellen brought both up from the kitchen, the cereal container was helpfully still full of Strawberry Mini-Wheats.
"Unless you have some Grasshopper Sugar Pops in there, I don't think the tarantula is interested in breakfast right now," I said. "Pour the cereal into the pot." I took a deep breath and used BBQ tongs to coax the tarantula into his new plastic digs, slipping on the cover. The boys stared in wonder at the giant, hairy creature. It was about 5 inches across.
Kristin was gone. "She probably went to tell Mom," Keaton said.
"Mom!!!" Kellen beamed, an evil grin spreading from one side of his face to the other. "Let's go show her!"
"Kellen, behave. We're not going to scare your mom. But I do want her to see it."
We arrived downstairs just as Kristin was trying to lock the master bedroom door. For the record, Kristin is the bravest kid around, but fiercely protective of her mom. But as for her mom, Kathy is probably the most squeamish person in Texas around anything with four or more legs. When it's Kathy vs. the Insect Kingdom, the insects will win every time, even if it's a battle with a lone cricket. To her, they are all vicious, venom dripping, blood-sucking, flesh chomping man-eaters.
We managed to get into the room before Kristin locked the door. "Kathy, look at this," I said. She looked at the container and immediately screamed like a B horror Movie starlet.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!"
"Honey, honey, it's okay," I said. And suddenly Kellen was behind me, trying to push me closer to her. "Kellen, stop that." Poor thing, but I really had no intention of getting it close to her. I didn't realize it would freak her out this badly. "Kathy, it's okay. It is in this container and it's not getting out. "
"Get it out of here," she yelled. "Now!"
"Kathy! We will -- just wanted you to see it. We're not trying to scare you. Maybe we should keep it as a pet… name it… Terry?" Terry, apparently delighted with his new name, started crawling up the side of the cereal container. "Omigosh -- look at that. It can crawl up the side!"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!"
Now the boys were giggling like maniacs, and Kristin picked up a pillow. "Get any closer..." she threatened.
"Bad choice, my dear. The tarantula will go flying and then be in the room somewhere, maybe on your mom's-"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!"
"Okay boys, I don't think your mother wants us in here. Let's go out." But now Kellen was pushing at full force. He leaned to whisper in my ear, "Dad -- let's just act like we're going to -"
"No, no, we're leaving." But my laughing was weakening me, and he was pushing all the harder. I looked up at Kathy. "Just remember he's misbehaving, not me -- oh dear, I ...I don't think I can hold-"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK!" she yelled. Mental Note: she could always do voice scream-overs for the movies if times get tight for us. Luckily, her last scream of terror weakened Kellen's stance, so I shoved back with just enough force to get us out without dropping Terry.
So, how did he get in the house? Only thing we can figure is he crawled up a 20 foot rock wall and came in an upstairs balcony door near Keaton's room.
In the meantime, I really wasn't pleased with my oldest son. "Kellen, what you did in there -- that was just terrible. Seriously. Are you happy with yourself? Really, that was just plain wrong. I thought I taught you better than that. So next time, DON'T forget the video camera!"
