An Empty Cavernous Place

A couple of days ago we unwrapped a pack of onesies and a pair of size 6 months pajamas. Last week I was doing some Christmas shopping when I saw a plush turtle that looked as though it belonged to my child; the one inside my wife's womb. I bought it and put it in a box with the rest of the stuff for the growing baby. It's all just sitting there waiting for the day we walk through the front door with the baby in my arms. We have a whole box of that stuff. Today we had our second ultrasound. Before we left to see the doctor I strapped my bike to the back of the car. From the doctor's office I was going to ride to Chris's house, then we were going to ride back to my house. Jenny would have dinner ready when we arrived. But first we were going to see how our baby was growing. We were going to see a heartbeat this time. We would see the little lima bean body. The technician turned the screen toward me. She started pointing the camara all around my wife's womb. She didn't say anything. She seemed to do this for a very long time. I began to get worried. I held Jenny's hand. She squeezed harder. I felt as though I had splashed into a deep lake. Sounds became muffled. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I don't see a fetus," she slowly responded. "What does that mean?" I knew damn well what it meant, but I asked anyway. She told us it meant that the womb had been growing but the baby hadn't. The cells just got together and then didn't multiply. She said it happens to nearly half of all women. She left the room. I held my wife in my arms. We had a good cry. I didn't ride bike today. Plans change. We called our parents. We had to tell them they'd never see their first grandchild on earth; in so many words. We heard them sniffle and dry tears over the phone. They're praying for us. We prayed too. We asked for some of that peace that surpasses understanding. Chris bought us dinner. God sent him over to give us some comfort. Tomorrow I'll put the box away. I'll hide it real well and hope it vanishes.

A Small Victory

As I rode to work this morning, the wind was a whisper that warned of waxing intensity. By the time my half day of work had ended, it had made good on its threat and blew with an urgency that mirrored the mall's atmosphere in these final 3 days of compulsory consumption. During much of my ride home, this urgent wind was at my back. Mr. Belvedere was the name of my clipper ship, pavement was my wavy sea, and I captained the rudder with the bending of elbows. In the distance I spied a tree that held big sharp-angled leaves; like those of a maple. One broke free and lifted toward the sky. I decided I would meet it in the air. Perfect timing was essential, the sail-like leaf was unpredictable, and I was still far away. I increased my speed and monitored the course of my target. It blew right, dipped hard, lifted again, blew left, rose higher. I was getting close, but the leaf was falling straight down now. There would be no more lefts or rights. Quick, powerful strokes propelled me to the point of intersection. I was arriving too soon. I sat down, straightened up, glided smoothly. The leaf seemed to pause in front of me, and then it glanced off my chest and fell to the ground.

They walked in soaking wet. They wore dripping t-shirts or hooded sweatshirts that acted like sponges. They were shivering. I jacked the industrial sized roll of paper towels from the staff restroom. The kids don’t have paper towels. They have hand driers. They would make a mess with paper towels. Throw them on the floor. Throw them at each other. I tore off four foot strips. Held them out at arms length. The kids grabbed at them while their eyelashes dripped. They wanted them badly. They wanted more after they got them. It was like Christmas. It took ten minutes. Their hair was dry. My trash bins were full. Their clothes were still wet. That was last Friday. I thought they’d been caught off guard. Yesterday I gave them a warning. I said, “Wear your rain jackets tomorrow.” I said, “There’s going to be a big storm.” I said, “You don’t want to walk in looking like you did last week.” It was raining this morning before school started. Some walked in wearing t-shirts. Some were wearing hooded sweatshirts. I realized they didn’t have jackets. I realized I’ve lived a privileged life.

The Cossacks

Yesterday I finished reading The Cossacks by Tolstoy. It was very good, leaving much to be mulled over and understood at a later time. It's a slim volume, but would require multiple readings to fully grasp a lot of the symbolism and social commentary. The following, however, is obviously a standout passage. It occurs about half way through the story and is an epiphany by the wealthy main character, who has been living as a hedonist for his entire life:
"This is what happiness is!" he said to himself. "How clear it is." [....] He was filled with such joy and excitement at discovering this new truth that he jumped up, and in his impatience began wondering who he could sacrifice himself for, who he could do good to, who he could love. "As one needs nothing for oneself, why not live for others?" he thought.

It's not a unique philosophy. In fact, living with this mindset is one of the primary goals for a Christian. Nonetheless, I enjoyed this passage immensely and found in it a good deal of encouragement.

Target Practice

Today I had an experience that reminded me of Alyosha from The Brothers Karamazov. I was riding my bike (Mr. Belvedere) up a steep hill in a sparsly populated residential area when a rock whizzed by my head and skidded along the ground. I stopped and turned around to see three boys standing about 25 yards away. The oldest couldn't have been over 11, and the other two were probably in fourth grade. I just stood there staring at the older one. Then I said, "That's not funny, kid." He just stared at me. I just stared at him. After what seemed like a long time, I started riding again. Two more rocks flew past me. I had no idea how to react, so I just kept riding.

Damaged Goods

Right in your own backyard

Simplification for oneself often leads to a complication for another

$3.00 + Emissions < Negative Calories + Fun

I'm commuting to work by bicycle now. I've been thinking about doing this for a while. I finally pulled the trigger. A kid in the front row was making fun of kids who ride bikes to school. I told him I was thinking of doing the same. Good for the heart, good for the mind, good for the world. He said I shouldn't do that. It would make me a dork. That's the day I decided to get an efficient bike and leave the car at home. I'm excited to show the him the safety light on the back. After he sees the water-shielding fenders, I'm cofident he'll trade in his monster truck for a bike of his own.