myopic pilgrim

I wrote this a couple of years ago when it was just Mateo and me in the morning.

It’s morning. I’m feeding my son breakfast. He likes cinnamon waffles. He can’t say waffles, but he can say nana (for banana), which I feed him first while the frozen waffle toasts.

The bell on the toaster oven rings and I pull out the warmed disc. I hold it up so my son can see it. I hold it high like a priest raising the Holy Host up to heaven. He sighs ah like his mother taught him to do when he’s happy. I give thanks for my son and his mother and break it in two. I save one half for later and tear the other half into bite-sized pieces.

He receives the first piece from my hand. Ah, he exhales, content. Ah, I intone.

Susan and I haven’t picked a name for the baby yet. I don’t think there are any Filipino names left on the table. And by Filipino, I mean Spanish names, of course (goodbye and paalom, Emilio). We have biblical names that sound too biblical for a pastor’s son (Josiah, Jeremiah, etc.), at least to my ears. We also have a few ideas that aren’t already taken by the children of friends (my cousin’s newborn is apparently named Jackson).

This much we know. Our son’s last name is Skinner and his middle name is Robert.

Our conversation turned to easier decisions. Susan is White with a mixture of German, Irish and other stuff. I’m mostly Filipino and basically a quarter Black. So, what do our sons mark as their nationality—Caucasian, Asian, Slovenian? Read the rest of this entry »

I was thinking about how being married with kids limits your freedom and increases your responsibility. It’s clear to me that Paul the Apostle’s encouragement to not marry was to keep you nimble and single-minded. If it were just me, I could deprive—even abuse myself, but I must provide and protect my family. And not only that, but I have to look after myself for the sake of my family. I’m no good to them burnt out, weakened, or dead.

I realize I didn’t develop this thought very well. I just needed to get this exhortation down for me before I forgot. Part of my value is measured by how physically, spiritually, and emotionally able I am to care for my family. The damage I do to myself (actively or through inaction) does damage to my family.

Have I mentioned that my wife is pregnant? That’s right, the planets have aligned again for us. We’re in the second trimester which means that the probability of carrying the baby to term has gone way up. Susan has a good feeling about it which may mean nothing, but I think it means something.

You know when we’re gone which means you know we’re there. When I feed you, you look up and reach your hand out lovingly, tenderly, towards my cheek. Then you pinch me between your jagged talons that people call fingernails. It hurts a bit, but you don’t know any better. I’ll have to get used to that.