The Future is Like a Scallop...

from: Slow Wave

Where your dreams become their surreal cartoons.

Seven

“The child gives birth to the parents”
-Chinese Proverb

Seven years ago I underwent one of the most significant transformations in my life.
Transfixed by the impossibly cerulean and infinitely-trusting eyes of my first-born son, I suffered the most painful heartbreak of my life.

Let me explain...

Years of carefully cultivated disregard had hardened me, forming a callus of defense against emotional vulnerability. I felt I had been hurt too often - too deeply. As a result, I had deliberately developed the professional detachment of a coroner, and that was the way I preferred it to be. Marriage and a near-death experience had chipped away at the hard crust of my heart, but in many ways it was still held in thrall by my desire to remain safely dispassionate.

That is, until the day I found myself awkwardly cradling my newborn son in unfamiliar arms.

He was all need, all trust, all love and hope. As his tiny, perfect fingers, miniature in comparison to the one I offered, wrapped me in his first embrace, I was struck by the absolute nature of his need. He reached out for comfort and safety, never doubting that I was there to provide for him.

There was a welling up of peculiar fierceness within me. Helpless against the tide that surged through me, I began to weep as at first fissures formed, then burst through the hardness of my heart. Too long dormant, the pain of sudden liberation was both sweet and insufferable, and a deep wound was opened in me that will never heal. Like soil that must be tilled to be planted, I was broken open to be fertile ground for fatherhood, and my son was forever planted in my heart. I was filled with such an overwhelming love in that moment, that my ability to remain dispassionate was forever diminished. To this day, I still ache with the memory of those first pangs of unfettered love.

It was also in that moment, I had a moment of clarity about the parallels with our eternal relationship with our Heavenly Father and his desire to fellowship with His children. I understood then the depth of desire for intimacy and fellowship of a father with his son.

My oldest son is sweet-natured, affectionate and ever-thirsty for knowledge. He wants to know, and more importantly, genuinely considers the answer I give. As a result, I find myself frequently challenged to develop a better understanding of things, if only to know better how to explain them to him. It is a manifestation of my love for him that I strive to answer him fully, but within the limits of what he can comprehend.

He is my beloved first-born.
Breaker and builder of my heart.
The eyes through which I can see the world anew.

Those tiny fingers that first wrapped around my own have grown much in the last seven years, but they have never let go.

Weekend Plans - The Quick Version

I'm leaving tomorrow morning with Blubrik for a motorcycle ride up to Arkansas. I'm looking forward to seeing the fall colors along the Talimena Scenic Byway this year. Somehow, I have always managed to miss the changing of the colors up there.

This weekend the CMA is having their 30th Anniversary party at Iron Mountain, their national headquarters in Hatfield (about 10 miles from my parents' house). There will be a huge quantity of bikers from around the country packed into western Arkansas. Add to that the Wheels and Wings Festival at the Mena Airport, and I doubt that there's a spare room to be had for a 50-mile radius.

We'll likely ride up to Altus, the "wine region" of Arkansas to visit several of the wineries up there, including one that is slated to have a grand opening of their new facilities on Saturday.

All in all, it should be an enjoyable weekend, full of activities and sights. It will also probably serve as something of a "last hurrah" before the weather turns too cool for longer rides.

Upside ...

I'm having a really good day.

No, really. iTunes is pumping in some lively music while I crank out job after job. I'm happy to be here and to be doing what I'm doing. Nothing is bringing me down, and darn it, I probably look good today, too.

Life is good!

See? There is an upside to being mildly manic-depressive - the manic days!

Five

Today is my youngest son's birthday.

A near full-swing of the pendulum opposite his older brother, he is my little imp - petulant and moody, yet with a almost-knowing smile that belies his age and forgives the worst offense.

While my eldest will respect, mournfully at times, the boundaries we set, my little imp will push his shoulder at the gate, chafing and sore, until at last we are forced to shore up our defenses or else relent.

Frustration at being too young, too small, too slow or too restless often send thunderclouds across his face, darkening his eyes and contorting his sweet smile into a portent of the tempest to come. The squalls are brief, however, and the light of his disarming smile insinuates itself through the parting clouds.

He is my challenge.
My innocence.
My rage and triumph.
My joy.
My boundless love.

He is my son.

Waiting

Hesitant hands hold
pausing over the keyboard
is it time again?