Joy

Grandchildren are God's gift to be enjoyed.  Pure unbounded joy.  That's my take.

Jasper has been on a roll lately.  His verbal skills are increasing day by day, and his sense of humor is delightful.  And I have been a focus of that in recent weeks.

Karla woke Jasper up after a long nap, and he had somewhat of a sheepish grin on his face.  "You slept away the whole afternoon!"  Karla quipped.  "Opa!" was Jaspers reply.  He also has learned how to snore.  So he makes a snoring sound, followed by "Opa!"  Yesterday, he came into the bathroom while I was there, and, you guessed it, buzzed his lips, and said "Opa!"  Were I to die today, Jasper would remember me for snoring and farting.  Oh, my.  Well, and a whole lot more.  Whisker rubs.  Kisses.  Hugs and tickles.  Playing together.  Joy.

A lot simply doesn't matter in life, "but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child."  That's a quote from a plaque we received a few years back from our bible camp.

I'm realizing that our vocations are often too highly valued.  "Pastor Dave" is probably too much a part of my identity.  "Opa" is supplanting that, thankfully.  There have been some consequences to that.

At our bishop's installation I had the opportunity to visit with the bishop of the Montana Synod, where I began my ministry.  "We need someone for Glasgow, Dave."  For a moment it was tempting.  Just to be wanted meant a lot.  Then I thought of Jasper and also of my wife, Karla.  We  have a rare opportunity to be important in the life of a child.  Some sacrifices are worth making.

And one of the things I realize is that Jasper doesn't care that I'm bipolar.

A lot of people do.  I've written a lot about my desire to finish my career strong, longing for a significant call to immerse myself in until retirement comes my way.  "Pastor Dave" wants to fly again.  Because I'm bipolar opportunities may be limited.  Disappointment is one response.  A change of heart has been in the works though.  I'm increasingly content where I'm at.  I'm a pastor at a small parish, and ready to make a long term commitment to them.  I'm a woodworker, both in my own shop and at a cabinet shop where I'm employed.  But most importantly I'm "Opa".

Being bipolar has affected my ability as a pastor, has led me down risky paths as a woodworker, but has not adversely affected my being "Opa."  Maybe God is trying to tell me something.

We have one grandchild now.  We don't know how many more there may be.  But today, we have the opportunity to be  Oma and Opa.  What a joy that is.

And its good medicine.  It's hard to be depressed when Jasper is buzzing his lips and saying "Opa!"  I guess that's his way of calling me an old fart.

The little things in life are often the most important.

There remain challenges.  The most frustrating thing for me physically is the sleep disorder.  In spite of taking enough medications that would knock a normal person out for an extended period of time, I wake after a few hours of sleep and then struggle the rest of the night.  I've taken to simply enjoying the beauty of the night and see these waking hours as 'my time'.  But it has its affect.  Jasper sees me napping.  He associates that with me as the norm.  What he doesn't see is how little sleep I actually get, and that my naps on the weekend are an attempt to recover.

And then some small projects come my way.  Bishop Kristen has asked me to do some signage for the new synod office, and most exciting, a "Luther's Rose" for the board room.  I'm envisioning that now, a great job for my CNC.  (Mania remains close to the surface.  The way this works is that once conceived, my mind races.  I envision marketing these carved renditions of Luther's Rose, using different species of wood to achieve the colors, through Augsburg Fortress and Concordia Publishing House, to the end that hundreds of orders will be received from congregations across the United States, and I will be able to quit my day job at the cabinet shop and do 'my thing' with my CNC.  Wisdom says, wait til the orders are in hand, my son, wait!)

On the other hand, maybe making a wooden train for Jasper is in order.