...in 1 Corinthians 13, love is patient, kind, not jealous, and so on--this coming from the biblical purveyor of practical advice. The list, when read in its entirety, appears fairly comprehensive, but I think Paul intentionally glossed over his lack of experience in certain matters by nebulously hinting that love "endures all things." This is not to say the sentiment is untrue; on the contrary, love does endure all things. But, if Paul had been a parent, I'm sure he would have been more specific. For example, he might have said "love endures full-force projectile vomiting of curdled soy milk."
Yes friends, love does endure such unpleasantries when we speak of parental love, even if it brings about our own demise, because absent a toilet or bucket (Editor's note: you'll just have to imagine that eloquent phrase "better get a bucket. I'm going to throw up, " from Monty Python's Meaning of Life. Linky no worky. But, as I was saying...) ...no loving parent can hold an ill child at arm's length as if their little one was a leaking bag of garbage. No, the parental imperative to comfort requires that we hold them close and tell them it'll be ok, even if it means being coated from head to toe in partially-digested chicken nuggets.
According to our pediatrician, Bry's latest affliction has a viral "gotcha." Unlike most stomach bugs, which seem to pass in a mere 24 hours, this one pops up unexpectedly a day or two later just so you don't get cocky thinking you've beat it. Of course, I'm sharing in this experience, but my gastric training, honed by flying backwards in a windowless cockpit, has allowed me to control my vomitus urges. Fun.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
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4 comments:
Meg mentioned that you were looking Bry square in the face, challenging him with a solid, "BRING IT ON!" You're a brave man, friend. And damn funny, too. I can say "damn," right?
Hell yeah... we're all adults here. I've been trying to stay away from the "blue" material... ya know, keep it PG-13 an' all, but I'm not against verbally "firing for effect."
Actually, being the seasoned pro that I am, I knew not to look Bry squarely in the face as I told him to bring it. Little boys should come with warning stickers affixed to their various orifices advising to keep away from the projectile path, lest one wants to be peed, pooped or puked on.
OK, so I am still new at both the blogging and fatherly stuff. You are stoking me to try my hand at this... (soon, very soon.)
While Chase still hasn't fired his hose at me (55 weeks and no end in sight), he has definitely hit me with vomit. And I do NOT have the gastric training you've had. I will not EVER forget the stench. Fortunately, I did not add my own to that mess, but I fear for the next time.
But even then, you know that you may not be able to do anything else except hold them and close to you.
Even so, I still think Paul understood having children when he said Love "hopes all things." Coutless times holding Chase, I marvel at what the future will hold for him. My constant prayer is that he will be able and capable to live out his dreams.
Yes, I've stoked you into many a time-wasting endeavor. Water gun fights. Billiards. Joust. Marble Madness. And now blogging. Take up your keyboard, let your thoughts flow and your journey towards the dark side will be complete [he says in his best Emperor Palpatine voice].
But seriously, well said, my friend.
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