Wednesday, September 2, 2009

My little circle of life

Anne Lamott got it right when she wrote that only one six billionth of this is about you.

My life is insignificant.

What matters is how I affect those around me.

I'm trying my best, Lord.

I spent much of the day on the phone with attorneys discussing my son Peter's death.

He has been dead for almost two years.

But their remain issues to be dealt with.

How I miss by baby boy.

This evening, I got a call from a friend.

He is lonely. Divorced. And driven to drink.

I went and drug him out of the bar and drove him home.

He's gonna die someday. But not on my watch if I can help it.

I'll pick him up in the morning and take him back to his car.

I get home to my house full of young people.

My daughter Sarah told me an amazing story.

We have lots of picture of Pete around the house.

Oliver, my oldest grandson, knows who Pete is. Ollie is almost two.

There is a letter in a frame by Oliver's bed. It was written by his uncle Pete. A man he never met. And will never get to know.

But Oliver knows Pete from the pictures and the paintings.

Going to bed, Oliver pointed out the window towards Heaven and said, "Pete, home."

Oliver, you know it son.

My daughter, her husband, and his best friend are making music and a video to raise funds for soldiers with Traumatic Brain Injury. If Pete hadn't been killed, he would be amongst the sufferers.

Thank you, children, for understanding.

My youngest son got off work and came to the house.

He is 23 and trying to figure out what life is about.

Two years ago, he had signed a contract to become a Navy SEAL.

When Pete was killed, his life went up in the same smoke that followed the explosion of the Iranian bomb that killed Pete and maimed two other U.S. soldiers.

We had a great talk. Young people can change their mind in an instant.

But, I think we talked thru some issues that will get him pointed forward. I pray.

As I headed for bed around midnight, I got to hear my youngest grandson crying.

Maybe the first time in my life that a baby crying was an attraction.

I went into his room, changed his diaper, and rocked him.

My daughter, my baby girl whom I rocked to sleep so many times, brought me a bottle for Liam.

As I fed him, we locked eyes.

I haven't felt that connection for a long time. Liam's middle name is Peter.

I got to feed him, burp him, and rock him to sleep.

As I go to sleep this night, I am mindful of my blessings.

I am but a small piece of God's world.

And when I allow Him to be part of it, it is amazing.

It is hard to imagine what my joy multiplied by 6 billion would be.

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