Lindsay just left the house for an hour. Griffin was napping and Gavin was sitting in his rocker.
10 minutes later Gavin was screaming.
I changed his diaper… still screaming.
I tried to feed him… still screaming.
I tried praying… still screaming.
I tried to sit him up on the couch and do a funny dance for him… still screaming.
I tried singing to him while walking with him in his favorite blanket… screamfest.
Right about that time Griffin woke up. Screaming.
I walked upstairs with screaming Gavin to get screaming Griffin.
At one point I may or may not have looked up at the heavens (or my ceiling) and screamed “COME ON MAN!”.
Sorry about that, God.
Lindsay came home after 49 minutes of screaming. I timed it.
The MOMENT I hand Gavin to her… silence.
Right as I’m nodding my head in disbelief at her baby-calming skills, I look down and see this.
Griffin on his hands and knees kissing her feet over and over.
Apparently Gavin wasn’t the only one happy that mom came home.
When we moved to Tustin 7 months ago we didn’t think we could handle having our dog Bella in an apartment. We had to give her to a couple of friends of ours that live about two miles from us. We told them that we would be happy to let them keep her forever, but if they felt like she wasn’t a good fit for them then we would take her back. They didn’t feel like they were going to be able to keep giving her the attention she needs (she’s a boxer- that’s a LOT of attention), so we picked her up today 🙂
So today is a family reunion at the Guard casa!
Welcome home, Bella 🙂
Lindsay and I spent last week with some family in Arizona. (I’m writing this just a couple hours after returning home, so I haven’t really even had a chance to process all of the things bouncing around in my head. So I’ll just start typing and see what comes out.)
First: a little bit of context— I have had a ridiculous transformation take place in my life over the past eight years or so. Anyone who knows me has heard something about my colorful past, and knows that along the way everything changed for me. I am in no way the same person I was when I was 21, and I can safely say that it has very little to do with the natural effects of maturing as you get older (hold the jokes for a sec). It was Jesus.
That’s my story. I had my heart and soul ripped out and replaced by Jesus. No other explanation makes sense. THAT explanation doesn’t even make sense, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
My story, my life and specifically my job as a pastor has become (in my mind) a huge pink elephant in the room when my family gets together. Aside from one set of cousins and their kids, nobody is on board with Jesus in my family. Nobody is hostile or rude. Everybody is polite… but sometimes it is just weird in the room. And I don’t get it…
It’s so hard to live this life, this new life, in the context of my family. Even Jesus had a hard time in this context, so I’m in good company I guess. The weird thing is that everyone has seen the change, but I have no idea what any of them think about it because nobody talks about it.
What I’m struggling with is this: It is so much easier to be a pastor with friends, students, or even with complete strangers for that matter, than it is to be one with my aunts, uncles, or cousins who have known me my whole life.
People who have known me for 5 months know me better than most of my family who has known me for 30 years.
There’s a lot more to this, but is what I’m saying making sense to anyone out there?