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Thank you Mountain Equipment Co-op for making backpacks for children; before the time of child labour* laws, kids pulled their own weight. Stupid progress. Well here are some pictures of my sweet daughter’s first backpack.
*It seems the queen’s English is more fun to type.
I am now in the fine city of Vancouver about two minutes away from going to my first Study Canada Summer Institute session. While perusing the real estate section of the local paper I noticed Seattle like prices; mind you a US dollar is about two cents more in Canada so that is two cents more house…meh. Wish me luck all.
Edit: It is more expensive than Seattle, not just comparable. Nice.
NyQuil–DayQuil as well–removes my brain from my skull and shakes it, just a little bit; how people become dependent on it is beyond my comprehension. It appears the three weeks I spent in Virginia have caught up to my body as I have been sick for almost two weeks. Should you ever get sick with a head cold, let me expound on the benefits: your wife/husband/partner/pony will sleep on the couch just to escape your coughing; your coughing will only flair up at night just to spite you; people will look at you, pause, and then tell you to take a nap…because they care; and you begin to wonder what pneumonia fells like.
And this blog would not be complete without a Sara quote uttered not two seconds ago:
It is 11 o’clock; you need to either get in bed or get out of my living room!
While perusing reddit, I found this gem about parental myths that parents would never tell you:
Parents check in to see how their child is sleeping
Parents “check in” on their kids every so often during nap or night time. As an outsider, you think that it is simply to see how the child is doing and is an act of love. In actuality, it is to see if the kid is dead or not breathing. The relief gained from having a not-dead child is priceless.
Sara actually choked on her pumpkin scone after reading this. I cannot count the times my wife has told me to be quiet, she needed to hear Bradie. After making smell-the-fart face, she would be relieved her child was still breathing. Did I mention that moms have a reflex that causes them to hit anything making sounds when they feel this instinct?
Postscript The pumkin scones are tasty, enjoy moms of Tuesday.
The words of a determined woman are quoted in the above title. My wife is searching for a new abode for her family in an apartment book the size of a phone book for Lynnwood. She has tired of the bat caveness of our current dwelling and is searching for pastures that are better lit–or at least do not face north. If any of you have any ideas for us, let us know–just do not show us any listings that allow felines only.
Over the last couple of weeks I have been reflecting on my friend that I have not kept in contact as well as I should. Had he not taken me seriously, I would not enjoy the outdoors as thoroughly as I do now, nor would the outdoors know me, so to speak, as well. Friends have a tendency to wash in with the tide and quickly wash out, leaving a slight aroma to always remind you of their passing or embedding between your toes to remind you of the pain of their passing. But some friends transcend crappy metaphors.
My age has revealed to me the tendency of all human beings to waste copious amounts of time on trivialities such as roaming large windowless buildings full of crap most people do not desire nor need, staring blankly at the flashing lightbox hoping something useful may show up, or fretting over the relative merits of the DH. These efforts lead us to proclaim, ‘were did the time go’ or ‘if I only had enough time’ or ‘I ran out of time.’ These are all weak excuses to cover over our inability to cultivate our relationships. On my return from saying goodbye to my father, my colleagues have given me a couple of plants to console me and to remember my father. These gifts are a blessing and a testament to the character and compassion of my coworkers, but one thing scares the hell out of me: how do I keep these plants alive? My mom’s thumb was only stained green by the chlorophyll of hundreds of plants she killed. My example of plant husbandry lacked delicacy and stamina. In the same way friendships can be smothered or withered away by pride or neglect.
God has blessed me with a friend with a strong neck to bare my thumb who speaks truth and hope into my life. It is my prayer that everyone can be blessed with a friend with a strong neck…and also a sense of adventure because not everyone will play the heater game when it is 95 degrees.
When I have spare time I sometimes surf the interweb for somewhat trivial information, eat cake (thank you Julie, Sara, and Amanda), wonder why my daughter takes the clothes off all her dolls, and bother my wife like a three year old–I poke her in the arm, smell her hair, or cover up the book she is reading.) While surfing the interweb with my aforementioned spare time, I came across this:
Somebody spent their spare time not only assembling this but also thinking of the idea. I wonder if this exercise could extend to everyone; what would be the ten ways I could kill you? Be careful, people are more dangerous than you think.
I will return to work tomorrow after a three week absence. I do not fear doing my job, teaching kids; but what I do fear is the pile of papers that I will have to wade through after school. Hmm, should I try to contract that work out to the lowest bidder? Does Northrop Grumman do consultant work in education? Apparently they have 24% of their business that is not directly related to defense. If they can build Nimitz-class carriers, they can correct American Government and World History classwork. It is quite possible they pay somebody to search the inter-tubes for even the mere mention of their name. Maybe I will get a bid. Oh well, good night.
Thank you to all of you who prayed for me. Here is what I got to share about my dad at his funeral.
When I was young, I did not get to know my dad very well. For various reasons, I only knew my dad through phone calls and cards…well maybe more phone calls than cards. It seems that I have inherited his ability to purchase cards, write in them, sometimes address them, and then not mail them. I think I have a Father’s Day card from 1999.
I did not get to know my dad until I was an adult. While working at a Young Life camp in Canada, God spoke to me clearly: you need to live with your dad. Not only did I live with my dad, I worked with him for six months. I got to know him as an adult. While I missed the mythology of my father—you know, my dad can beat up your dad, my dad walked on the moon, my dad smells good without showering, my dad is a super hero—I got something even more special: my dad became my friend as an adult. We would stay up late into the night talking about cars, Boyle’s Law, God, and what would happen if you pulled all the boats in the ocean out of the water at the same time. By the end of my stay I recaptured a little mythology about my dad; I learned he did not need to wear super hero underpants, he could rebuild an engine better than your dad, and he has one peculiarity.
He loved coffee, especially in the morning. After consuming 27 pots of coffee we would hop in the car to go to work. On several occasions we had to make an unplanned pit stop. Usually this consisted of him squirming in the car, exiting quickly from the freeway, and stopping at McDonalds for a consult in the hall of tiles, but one day was very memorable. He arrived at work and he was really feeling his coffee. He looked at me, looked at the door to get to the elevator, and then looked at the door of the garbage transfer room…after returning from the garbage transfer room, he felt much better.
While I lived with my dad over five years ago, I happened across John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. Over the past three weeks this book has been on my mind for several reasons. First, Steinbeck has an affinity for the West Coast—which is my adopted homeland, and second, it has reminded me of my father. Let me tell you a little about my father before I tell you why. My dad had cancer for 17 years; if you ever met him, you would never know. His routine would consist of getting up early, going for a walk/run, taking care of the three Ses, drinking an insane amount of coffee, making an unplanned pitstop because of the aforementioned coffee, working all day, coming home, changing clothes, working in the yard, coming in when dark, working in the house or garage, and going to bed. Now there would be some variation to this schedule–except the coffee and pit stop–but my dad always managed to put more work in a 24 hour day than anybody that I have met. Never would you here my dad complain, more than likely you would find him trying to encourage somebody. Along the way he had an impact* on hundreds of peoples’ lives; those people poured into his home as he prepared for his last days on Earth. Had I the foresight or equipment, I would have stood at the door with a clicker to get a formal count, but by my rudimentary math skills I would say well over one hundred people have visited him or called him to say how important he is to them.
Seeing all of these people come to see my father made me see something in him that I had not recognized before. In the beginning of Cannery Row, Steinbeck describes Cannery Row in Monterey. After carrying on about the geography he starts talking about the people of Cannery Row. That is where these lines come from:
Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, ‘Whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches’, by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, ‘Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men’, and he would have meant the same thing.
My dad has spent his entire life trying to look through that peephole to see saints and angels and martyrs and holy men; this does not mean he has always been successful, but his effort is the reward and it is not a Sisyphean effort.
Before I moved to Virginia to live with my dad, I hiked the
Grand Canyon rim to rim with my friend Devon. As I left Virginia my dad told me that if I had friends going to Virginia, to give them his number. People exchange these types of pleasantries all the time, even family; the difference with my dad is he really meant it.
Devon, who was in the Coast Guard, had several weeks of training in Virginia, so I gave him my dad’s number. I called Devon several days ago to talk to him about my dad. He told me that my dad took him in as if he was a son; Devon said he felt like he was a connection to me for my dad. During one of their visits, they went to the Air and Space
Museum. It was here that Devon realized what he wanted to do with his life… fly planes. After the visit, my dad talked with Devon about what he wanted to do. When my dad found out that Devon wanted to fly planes, he relentlessly pursued Devon and his dream.Devon graduated from his class and received several honors; my dad was there to see him honored. Devon said that my dad played a huge part in helping him understand who he was and what he wanted to be. My dad saw Devon’s potential and would not let him settle for anything less. Devon will graduate from the University of Washington next week and in four months he will be in Quantico for officer candidate school, his first step to becoming a pilot. This is just one of hundreds of stories where my dad looked through the other peephole and saw the good in someone.
In this way, my dad has lived his life; a life where he has poured out blessings onto other people just as his Savior has poured out blessings in his life. If God could extend his grace even to my Dad, despite his shortcomings, how could my dad not extend his grace to all the people he met?
Let me end with hope from II Corinthians chapter 5:
1Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. 6Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7We live by faith, not by sight.
Thank God for his grace that he extends to us through his son Jesus Christ. I have hope because my dad is in his eternal house, not because I can see but because of faith. II Corinthians continues in verse 17:
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!
I love you Dad; you are a man of God that no one will forget. Also, please let me know if your coffee and pit stop routine continues…God does have a sense of humor.
Tomorrow is my dad’s funeral. The terminology for death can be baffling; is it a wake, viewing, memorial, funeral or do you go to the funeral home, funeral parlor, or church? It has been a sense-deadening whirlwind. Between eating, reminiscing with family and friends, and getting ready for services; it hits me: my dad is gone. Knowing this day was coming could not prepare me for the feeling of great loss. Please pray for me as I prepare to share about my dad at the funeral tomorrow (today if you are on the East Coast.)
As a high school teacher I often here people bemoan the decline of human civilization; they base this misguided rant on the next generation–my students. While I will not disagree that behavior overall has declined, I find it unconscionable that society place the blame on kids. Schools, and therefore kids, are only a reflection of society; and when society is rude, gratuitous, violent, and without a moral compass it has an effect on kids. Often I find the behavior of adults to be petty, cliquish, selfish, and without thought–these are the same accusations thrown at kids.
The Quakers have a belief called the Doctrine of the Inner Light. They believe that God is present inside of everyone and he speaks to everyone, if they listen. The basis of this belief is John 1:9:
9 The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world
The Quakers became early supporter of the abolition movement because of this doctrine. If we all have God present in us, how can we subject people or call them inferior?
It is when we refuse to listen to this Inner Light that you find people acting in ways that induce the aforementioned bemoaning. We all have a tremendous capacity to do great good and to do great evil, but the choice is left to us. God has given us the ears to hear, but do we listen?
Some times it feels like my two years of teaching has almost jaded me, almost; but kids bless my life in the most amazing ways. Sometimes I get a note from a kid thanking me for helping them or I have an entire period that is so caring that it feels like family or I have kids offering to watch my daughter because they think that my wife and I need to go on a date. I have hope for humanity because of the kids that I get to share my day with everyday. Here is an example:
Out of the blue one of my students from last semester emailed me a picture he took of my daughter at a basketball game. I received this just as I arrived in Virginia to spend time with my father. I responded to his email, telling him why I was not in school–my father was very sick–and to thank him for his thoughtfulness. Here is the reply that I received:
wow, that’s tough. i knew something was going on but i wasn’t completely sure. My grandmother just died due to cancer as well, and my grandpa just got diagnosed, with a few months to live so i can only imagine how you feel. But you have to look at death not as a bad thing, but a celebration of a wonderful life. and if your Dad is half the man that you are i know he must be great and at complete peace with himself.
i’m sorry to hear that, stay strong.
ill see you when your back and i’m sure everyone else will be happy to see you as well
This is why I have hope in humanity; A kid that I had just met nine months ago spoke wisdom into my life while I was in pain with elegance and sincerity. Don’t tell me that kids have no respect and do not care about anything; too often we focus on what bothers us, what annoys us. We do not spend the time to listen to what is inside of us all, this light that can guide us.
When I started teaching I jokingly told my wife that I will only keep teaching if just one kid gives me hope; I guess I am teaching again next year! God has blessed me through my work; it cannot be any more clear to me. Thank you to all my kids that have spoke truth and wisdom into my life. Fear not adults, you have blessed me as well; but that is a topic for another post.
II Corinthians 5:17:
17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!
At 6:10 am Eastern Standard Time my dad left his tent on this earth; thank you to all of you who have been praying for me and my family. Please continue to pray as we prepare for the memorial services.
I will leave you with hope from the beginning of chapter 5 in II Corinthians:
1Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.
6Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7We live by faith, not by sight. 8We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. 10For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.
The Somewhat Collected Thoughts of Marcus J Merrifield 
