Unc

My mom and her older sister always called him what their parents called him: Junior. Seeing as he was named after his father, that made sense. My friends would inevitably chuckle the first time they heard me speak of my "Uncle Junior." And mom laughed about the way her "baby brother" now dwarfed her.

A lifelong bachelor, as far as I know he always lived with his parents. They were somewhat older when they'd started having children, and since he was the youngest of their three, my memories are of a devoted son taking care of elderly parents who had quite a few health issues, between Grandmom's weight and diabetes, and Granddad's hearing loss (related to WWI naval service) and frequent "spells." He'd usually drive them to our frequent family get-togethers. Thanksgiving was always at my aunt's family's big house, since it was easier for everyone to go there than for them to pack up my eight cousins and have the ten of us kids falling all over each other elsewhere. The Christmas routine was always the same: Grandmom, Granddad, and Unc (though we didn't really abbreviate his title until we were grown) always went to my aunt's house on Christmas Eve, came to ours on Christmas Day. A few days later the whole crew would be together for my sister's birthday, just as we'd been at a cousin's birthday a couple weeks before. With ten of us nephews and nieces, birthday parties were frequent.

Unc was my Confirmation sponsor. I never met my godparents, and I had so much respect for him that I didn't really consider having anyone else sponsor me. He was disappointed that the bishop didn't symbolically slap us on the cheek anymore by then, as had formerly been part of the ceremony. (It seems we've lost the idea of purposeful self-sacrifice and hardship, seeing the latter as something to be avoided in all contexts.)

I lost touch with them all for a while after getting married (a small ceremony, somehow without room for my cousins; how could I have let that happen?) and joining the service. Grandmom had died before I enlisted, and Granddad a few years after. While I was home for the funeral, Mom told me she and my stepfather were moving to Georgia, and subsequent visits to Maryland became centered on my wife's family. How easily I lost sight of the relationships that were so important to me growing up. I eventually realized my folly. Having finally dealt with some things I needed to from my childhood, I strove to recover the relationships I'd thrown out with the bath water. With Aunt Helen divorced (why did both sisters marry alcoholics?), she and Unc were by then sharing the same house at which we'd visited their parents on Sundays growing up for as far back as I can remember. On every trip home we began to make it a point to go by there for a while. It never really seemed like a long enough visit when the girls or the mrs. - or later, the grandkids - would start feeling restless already, and it would be time to leave behind again the sofa on which I'd slept over (eventually a new sofa in the same place), the lawn I'd mowed, the garden I'd weeded, the aunt and uncle I loved.

When my mom passed away, shortly after 9/11, her brother and sister took a train to GA for the funeral; there was just no way Helen was getting on a plane that soon after. You could amass a fortune betting on Amtrak to be late; I went to pick them up at the train station, anxiously waited for them to arrive, and drove them to the funeral home knowing that everyone was waiting for us so they could start the service. Afterward we had a nice lunch together at Mom's favorite joint, an Irish pub on the grounds of a winery a few miles from the house. My aunt helped us go through Mom's clothes so my stepfather wouldn't have to deal with that, and we headed for our respective homes in the next day or two. My aunt says that it was on the train back home that Unc first noticed blood in his stool.

I wonder if things might've been different for him if he'd been able to have the cancer surgery right away rather than urgently needing a multiple bypass first to survive it, or if he hadn't been the first family member to develop colorectal cancer, or if he'd started getting colonoscopies a few years before, as we now know we should. But his battle was valiant and he remained dignified and fun-loving throughout, getting to Atlantic City one last time this past summer, a couple years after one of his best gambling buddies had died. Unc had hated not being there for his funeral; John had died unexpectedly during one of Unc's worst hospitalizations.

I can't help but think I may have shirked my responsibility to him by not sharing the Lord's love more openly. St. Francis said, "Share the Gospel; when necessary, use words," and with some folks the words really are necessary. Yeah, I may have made a special trip or two home specifically to visit with him. In the hospital, we'd agreed that he'd tell me when he was ready for me to leave - which he expected to be after fifteen or twenty minutes - or I'd let him know when I was ready to go; somehow a couple hours flew by before either of us realized it. Or last November, for one last Thanksgiving; Unc may not have been cooking from scratch anymore, but having so many of us celebrating this holiday with him again was still a real treasure for all of us. At the party this summer, we knew we were probably together with him for the last time. As I tried to tell him how closely I was holding him in prayer, he never quite seemed to connect with just what I was trying to convey: how much the Lord loves him, how He longs be our strength and comfort in such challenging times.

Still, I hope Unc saw beyond my presence to the One who was leading me, each time, to be there. I hope he, too, felt the embrace of the One whose perfect Peace, beyond understanding, guards my heart and mind especially at such times as these, saying goodbye to one of the few really respectable men in this broken boy's life.

I pray the angels have escorted him home to a joyful reunion with his parents, sister, brothers-in-law, cousins, and dear friends who have preceded him, in jubilant rejoicing before the throne of glory of our loving God.

A favorite parable

I haven't done one of these posts in a while, but I've always loved the Gospel reading for this coming Sunday.

When Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like . . . ," we know we'll learn a lot by paying attention to how the kingdom is similar to the parable. In this case, while the master (Lord) calls all the laborers, those who labor all day (their whole lives) receive no greater reward than those who enter the vineyard at the very end. Those exhausted laborers are clearly put out by their perceived unjust treatment at the hands of the landowner, and we might agree: something just doesn't seem right.

Some context: I'm no Scripture scholar, but I'd bet that around the time St. Matthew set down his Gospel, the idea of Jesus' imminent return was still pretty common. There were probably many Christians who'd followed the Way for decades - even their whole lives - while others were just entering the community. Perhaps there was quite a bit of jealously among some of the oldsters that these Johnnies-come-lately would receive the same reward. If so, this teaching of Jesus would have been particularly timely for the Church of that day.

Here's what now strikes me reading this parable: when Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like . . . ," we can also find great insight by focusing on how the kingdom isn't like to the parable. In this case, the dissimilarities are huge.

Consider the wage. In the parable, each laborer receives a denarius, which was a day's wage for a laborer. It certainly wasn't much money, though considered fair, and perhaps easily taken for granted. By contrast, the reward which Christ has purchased for us is to exchange the death we deserve for eternal, abundant life. God gives us His very, infinite Self. What laborer could rightly claim to deserve this, let alone expect more?

It's as if the Lord is saying, "Even if all we were talking about were a pittance, you'd have no room for complaining that I'm generous to others. In truth, my generosity to you is already infinite, and no amount of my sharing it with others could ever diminish it! Your labor ought not be an attempt to earn what is fair, because no amount of toil could wipe away your sin, let alone earn what I give you! Rather, let your works be your loving response to the priceless gift of my love. Instead of being jealous, rejoice that others receive my grace as well!"

Could it be that we, today, often take the Lord's generosity to us for granted, too? I know I'm sometimes tempted to. But I'm also painfully aware of how great my sinfulness has been, and that no amount of my labor could ever wipe it clean.

Thank you, Lord, for your great mercy. May your mercy abound in the lives of others, and may I never grumble against you.

Looking beyond the frustration

Okay, with a challenging century planned on Saturday, weather permitting, followed by a 55-mile return trip on Sunday, I thought I should get in a fairly casual 20-some miler today. My group was riding at 5:30, and I figured I'd go out with them, and head back on my own from our regular first stop.

I could see that plan start to fall apart when oldest called me shortly before lunch, asking where her mom was. She was having a lot of pain from her chronic illness, needed to go to the ER, and wanted to ask her mom to pick up the kids. I knew mom was going to be incommunicado until lunch time, but would probably be available. I also knew that meant the possibility of 6 grandkids at the house after work instead of the usual two, and that might mean a rearrangement of my plans.

I wasn't prepared for the phone to ring again at 4:15. Mrs. tg had all six grandkids and one grown daughter with her, and a van with a dead battery. Ugh. So I go get her jump started and safely home, but it's clear I'm going to have to take the older grandkids home when mom's ready. There goes the group ride. By the time I get back to the house it's nearly sunset, but I still have to get a ride in today. Tomorrow evening is too close to Saturday.

So instead of the easy ride I had planned, I'm now pushing for all I'm worth trying to get just a dozen miles in before it gets completely dark. And as I'm riding out, I'm growing more and more frustrated over how I'm pushing much harder than I wanted to, and resenting how things have worked out.

Then I started to realize how lucky I really am. I had a perfectly functional second vehicle to go help out my wife with. I'm healthy, not having to deal with all the issues my daughter has to face all the time, and able to ride so vigorously in response to my frustration. I was able to spend unexpected time with my grandkids. It remains to be seen whether my planned ride this weekend, about which I'm pretty excited, will come to fruition. In short, I really needed to shift my focus such that I wasn't so consumed by the fact that my plans were short-circuited and remember how many blessings I have.

I'm amazed at how a good workout can help redirect my energy so that I can see things more clearly.

Grandkids are great!

Another fabulous weekend. Capped off with an impromptu cookout tonight with our oldest and her 4. What a fine time. A short while later, our youngest called. Her 3-year-old daughter excitedly told us that she "caught two fishies. One little one, and one big one!" Saturday evening she was showing us how she casts. Too cute!

Another fine ride this weekend, too. Nothing formal, but a metric century (a little over; a metric is 100km, or 62 miles, versus a century of 100 miles) on Sunday that was more challenging than the century the previous week. I was riding with the racers on Sunday, and while I may have been behind them in spots, I mostly hung pretty well. I did tail off toward the end, mostly due to not eating enough, I think. Now, if the weather isn't too hateful next weekend, I may get in the OKHT yet . . .

A cherished memory

(Hard to believe it could have been this long ago, but) In January of 2000, a coworker and I went to a CRM conference in Scottsdale, AZ. Noticing that there'd be a total lunar eclipse one evening, we decided to drive out to one of the area national monuments - it may have been Ironwood Forest; I seem to recall thinking how "unforesty" it was - to view the eclipse outside of the glow of the city. It was early enough in the evening that it wasn't too late to call my wife, two hours ahead of us - I think I used my coworker's phone, as mine didn't get a signal - to implore her to go outside and have a look, too. That way, even though we were 1800 miles apart, we could share the same experience. The thing is, the high in Scottsdale had been near 70°F that day, but there was snow on the ground back home, with a 0°F low forecast for that night. As you might imagine, mrs. tg respectfully but firmly declined my suggestion of remote moon-gazing! It was a very neat experience anyway, and has remained a treasured memory.

Even more so today. This morning, my coworker died of cancer. She's been battling against it for a couple years. She's free now . . .

Pray for us you've left behind, Melissa.

Great weekend, if a bit blurry

No, not blurry due to being obscured by alcohol. It was just jam-packed.

Saturday our marriage encounter group went up to a local lake where one of the couples has a house. Didn't get out on the boat much, as it was having technical difficulties, but still, we had a really wonderful time together.

Yesterday was the Wright Wride. I rode the century option, partly as a training ride for the Old Kentucky Home Tour in two weeks. KY will be my fifth state in which to ride a century. I was really hoping to knock out two more states this season, but that just hasn't panned out. We'll see how the fall shakes out; maybe I'll be able to get Illinois in, as well. Anyway, I love cycling around here. We ran into a guy who had water bottles from Maryland (from the city that hosts the MD century I rode three years ago), where we're both originally from. It prompted some great conversation. He recently moved here from NJ, and was amazed at how we could ride on roads early Sunday morning without seeing any traffic. He said in NJ he always felt lucky to get home alive! Anyway, it got pretty hot by end of the ride, but still and all, another really fabulous day, to make for a super weekend!

Capped it off with a really nice mass yesterday evening (the most important question of our lives: "Who do you say that I am?"), supper with our oldest grandson (I can't believe the boy is 11½ already!), then a visit with the rest of his family when we dropped him off at home.

(Contented sigh . . . )

The remains of the vacation

Saturday morning, mrs tg got together with a couple friends from high school with whom she has recently reconnected. I was planning on a lazy morning to myself, until we took breakfast on the back porch. It was simply too gorgeous to sit around in the house, so I got my bike and gear out of the van before she left. It was a short ride to the bike path, and I headed north, thinking I might drop in on her parents, who live within a few blocks of the path. But I'd promised to be home before she was, as I had the house key, and checking the time as I got into Glen Burnie, I figured I should head back. I needn't have, as it turned out; I was there an hour and a half before her. But that gave me plenty of time to cool down and shower, and at least I was there to help sister-in-law and her husband unpack the car when they arrived back from the beach.

The wife and I then headed out for a get-together with my aunt, uncle, cousins, and family friends. It was so nice to be able to spend time with them; usually we only get to see a couple of them each trip. Though the few hours we had together were too short, they were full of wonderful reminiscences. Then a stop by mrs tg's folks' place for a short visit and quick swim, and supper back at the sister-in-law's house. (Now, just out of curiosity, should the plural possessive of that be "sisters-in-law's," as in "we'd had dinner at both sisters-in-law's condos"? Or am I wrong about the singular possessive, too?) Then the two sisters went out to a movie while we husbands finished watching the ball game (O's win!) and played some backgammon.

Sunday brought an early rise to finish getting the car packed - not too much of a chore because we packed so well before leaving the ocean, so we hadn't had to unload much for these last two nights, plus I'd gotten the bike loaded back in the night before. Then we went to mass in Glen Burnie and had breakfast with mrs tg's parents before hitting the road to return home. I was refreshed by the vacation, but absolutely not ready to come back; I suppose that means we planned things just right, and managed not to overdo or overstay. It was a beautiful day for driving, with a nice mixture of clouds and sun, and we were amazed at how temperate things were for mid-August. Arriving home, we quickly unloaded the van and went to pick up our dog, who sure seemed glad to see us again!

(btw, my mother-in-law's surgery seems to have gone very well. Thanks, God!)