About 4 years ago, through circumstance and the natural curiosity of those people who care about you in your former city, I reluctantly became your public relations officer in charge of answering any and all queries as to your well-being, employment status, and future plans. I hated this job, you know, because it only came into existence when you turned the page and started a new chapter. (Now, see how far I've come? Just 2 years ago I would have phrased that last bit simply as "You left us." Ah, progress and maturity.) What I couldn't see then was that God meant to restore you in ways that your friendship with us just couldn't, despite our desire and best efforts. And it took a while.
The most common questions I was asked regarding your statuses were:
"Is he going to seminary?"
"Is he still single?" and
"Is he doing anything with his art?"
I don't really care whether or not you ever go to seminary. I think you're effective enough of a witness to the life-changing power of JC without an official piece of paper stating your learnedness. We were hoping that you'd find love again, but knew it'd have to be truly ordained by God to even get your attention. We are so glad that it seems to have been taken care of.
Today, you answered the third question for all these curious folks - your birthday gift to your godson arrived. It's the finest thing I've seen in a long time (and I just saw my stomach move with a swift kick from the current resident of my uterus, so your gift is a really big deal).
(click to enlarge, and notice he included the new baby!)
Chad, we are so glad that you are still in our lives, bound by the handwritten godfather contract you created in a deli one afternoon over lunch. That last line of your poem reminded me of a sweet photo I took last summer during our too-brief visit:
We love you.
Timon, Maresi, Henry, and Baby
The most common questions I was asked regarding your statuses were:
"Is he going to seminary?"
"Is he still single?" and
"Is he doing anything with his art?"
I don't really care whether or not you ever go to seminary. I think you're effective enough of a witness to the life-changing power of JC without an official piece of paper stating your learnedness. We were hoping that you'd find love again, but knew it'd have to be truly ordained by God to even get your attention. We are so glad that it seems to have been taken care of.
Today, you answered the third question for all these curious folks - your birthday gift to your godson arrived. It's the finest thing I've seen in a long time (and I just saw my stomach move with a swift kick from the current resident of my uterus, so your gift is a really big deal).
(click to enlarge, and notice he included the new baby!)Chad, we are so glad that you are still in our lives, bound by the handwritten godfather contract you created in a deli one afternoon over lunch. That last line of your poem reminded me of a sweet photo I took last summer during our too-brief visit:
We love you.Timon, Maresi, Henry, and Baby
2 comments:
Your post reminds me why I do nice things for you people in the first place.
No, seriously, have you considered spinning this theme off into a side-blog?
I love you guys, and look forward to the next time we see each other. Perhaps, it will be on the occasion of Timon and I hopping on our motorcycles to cross his Rubicon (the Mississippi River), perhaps it will be when Henry and I are weighing our packs at the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail with Maresi snapping pictures in the background. Let's hope it's way sooner than all of that. In any case, all I need is our families together, a few hard boiled eggs, a pint of ice cream, and some poorly chosen movies to watch on DVD (Evil Alien Conquerors anyone?), and the good times will roll.
God Bless ya'll.
-G. Diddy
that was totally sweet! who is this chad fellow? i bet his sibling(s) must be totally cool!
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