Many many millions of years ago a race of hyperintelligent pandimensional beings (whose physical manifestation in their own pandimensional universe is not dissimilar to our own) got so fed up with the constant bickering about the meaning of life which used to interrupt their favorite pastime of Brockian Ultra Cricket (a curious game which involved suddenly hitting people for no readily apparent reason and then running away) that they decided to sit down and solve their problems once and for all.
And to this end they built themselves a stupendous super computer which was so amazingly intelligent that even before its data banks had been connected up it had started from I think therefore I am and got as far as deducing the existence of rice pudding and income tax before anyone managed to turn it off.
It was the size of a small city.
If only solving life's problems were as simple as designing a stupendous super computer that could handle the biggies--Why is there suffering in the world? Is there life after death? Why do fools fall in love? If I lived in science fiction universe, it would be as simple as typing in a question and waiting for a printout. The people at Apple and Google like to think that they have all the answers, but they don't. So, here I sit on a Sunday afternoon, contemplating a lot of difficult emotions and problems.
First, today would have been my father's 92nd birthday. He's been gone over a year-and-a-half now, and I still feel his absence. He and I had a complex relationship, and we didn't see eye-to-eye on, well, anything. Perhaps the most important thing that I learned from him was the importance of family. My dad would have done anything for his wife and family. Anything. He worked long hours as a plumber, sometimes six and seven days a week. As a kid, I never had to worry whether there was going to be food on the table or clothes in my closet. He provided me a very happy childhood for the most part. I have tried to emulate that same commitment to family in my own marriage and parenthood.
Second, I just dropped my son off at a week-long summer Bible camp. My wife was working this afternoon, so I had to do it by myself. In the car on the way to the camp, my son was pretty silent, chewing his nails. I asked him how he was doing. He said, "I'm a little nervous." Now, that's pretty normal. He hasn't been away from home by himself for extended periods of time ever. I wanted to pull the car over and hug him. Instead, I said something like, "Well, it's okay to feel nervous. That's normal. But you're going to make a lot of great new friends at camp." Standard Leave It to Beaver fatherly advice. As I was leaving the camp after seeing him safely ensconced in his cabin and bunk, I found myself near tears. He seemed so small and vulnerable, and I couldn't really do anything to make him feel better. Had to stop on the way home to cry a little bit.
Third, I'm still worrying and praying constantly about my wife's mental health. As I said in a post recently, she is on the verge of a manic episode (if not already in full-blown mania), and, when she's like this, she becomes very . . . self-centered. That's the best, kindest way to describe it. Everything becomes secondary to her own wants and needs. That's just the nature of the beast that is bipolar disorder. It's emotionally draining for her, and it's exhausting for the people who love her, as well. Every day, I go through an inventory of my thoughts and feelings. Eventually, I always come to the conclusion that I have no power in this situation. That I need to step aside, offer the support I can, and give my wife's well-being up to God. That's not always so easy.
Fourth, I have reached that time in the summer when money becomes a huge issue for my family. For the fall and winter months, I have two paychecks coming in--one from the medical office where I work full-time, the second from the university where I teach part-time. In the summer months, the university money goes away completely, and we have to survive on my one paycheck plus tax return money. Come July, the tax return money is pretty much gone, and paying bills is a challenge. That is my situation at the moment as I sit here trying to figure out how to pay a mortgage and car loan with non-existent balances in savings and checking.
Those are the problems I would punch into a stupendous super computer that could provide all the answers to the problems of my life. However, that is science fiction, and, in reality, I don't see any immediate solutions forthcoming any time soon.
Perhaps I could go old school . . .
If you see Saint Marty on the street corner, selling lemonade from a stand, stop and buy a couple cups from him. Give him a generous tip. Maybe a hug, too.
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