Thinking about Dad

Today, I really was suffering from bloggers' block.  I could think of nothing meaningful to write, other than we got some movement on the adoption.  It would seem Grace's papers will be ready on Monday and we are headed to social services very soon.  That is truly a gift.  Her file will join Alex's and we can at last get moving again.  What a blessing.

Nonetheless, I was not feeling particularly inspired until just this evening.  Jack, as usual as he is quite the social butterfly, was at a friend's birthday party, the other two were in bed.  I enjoyed the quiet and complete charge of the remote until it was time to pick up Jack.  As we drove home, I heard all about the party and the rest of the day's events.  Jack admitted he was hungry, and we had a TV show DVR'd we wanted to watch.  I sent him up to get his jammies on as I heated up his dinner.  During my puttering around the kitchen, I was suddenly taken back to my teen years.  I remembered coming home late, and being met in my kitchen by my dad.  He would sit at the table pouring over his Chicago Tribune, drinking coffee reheated from the morning.  I suppose this was his quiet time he enjoyed while I was out.  I always joined him at the table and we would talk about life, or whatever.  One night, I had asked him about Jesus.  I don't really even remember what I asked him, but what I do remember is him saying,"I want to show you something." 

He pulled out his wallet, and dug around for a moment or two.  I could not imagine what he needed in there at that hour.  Then he found it.  It was a card with a picture of Jesus on the front.  He told me to look at it.  He said it was his favorite picture of Jesus.  I noticed in the picture Jesus appeared relaxed, open and happy.  My father explained that was the Jesus he knew.  He taught me how to know Jesus in my kitchen across a table, during some late night discussions.  For that, I am truly grateful.

As of late, Jack has been asking his own questions about Jesus.  He is forming his ties now, as only Jack can, in his own way.  He refers to Jesus as hispanics do, with the J sounding like H.  Somehow, that makes Jesus more hip and comfortable for him.  Somehow, I don't think Jesus minds.  Actually, for a kid who couldn't talk about religion until recently, it is fun to see his relationship grow.

  I wonder what he will think about when he has his own kids.  As he heats his children's dinner up at 11:00 at night, will he remember me heating his dinner up and making him hot chocolate in the Keurig, the way I remember my dad's Tribune and Mister Coffee?  I only hope he remembers our talks about Jesus so he can share it with his children over whatever new gadget is available by then to make hot beverages.