Waiting
Dear Eugene,
Praying is waiting.
Did I just say something hackneyed? Or is it too obvious that we replaced the truth with a counterfeit? Instead of waiting, praying is often, to me, an unwilling compromise during times of extreme impatience.
Yesterday I finally gave my son a cell-phone after much thoughtful and prayerful gestation. I made it sound wholesome and edifying, but the experience was more like relinquishing a razor to a monkey.
When we were working out the terms and conditions of use, there were times I would just stare at the lump of worked-up hormones that is my son with a blank face, wondering when God will stop the deluge of insult gushing out of his mouth and give this father a square-inch of dry land to stand on.
The phone looks cheap,
the phone looks old,
the phone looks slow,
the phone will crash like my friend's old tablet,
the protective case ain't cool,
my friends all have thousand-dollar phone without a case...
My son writes Imprecatory Psalms that don't rhyme.
Sure enough it was an entry-level phone from a year ago. But for phone's sake, your daddy works for a cellphone company!!!
At one point I was so seething with passive aggression that I asked him to leave my study room. I don't want you to witness me sinning against God, I rumbled these sorry syllables from the bottom of my dark chest.
At the end it all worked out OK; I guess. Till the end I didn't lose my temper; I thanked God.
I waited.
During the whole experience I've done a lot of nothing. When there is nothing to be done, I've learned to do nothing and wait. How I wanted my son to grow up, even just a tad bit, to meet me downstream maybe, hello-from-the-other-side perhaps, but please just throw me a bone when you are ready. Beam me up, son!
Waiting isn't learned helplessness; it only feels like so. When I waited, I prayed. It wasn't even intentional--it's like a reflex; you just can't help but pray. God's words to me, my words to God, my words to my son, they all just formlessly entwined as I stood there, within breathing distance to my son, slowly roasted by his teenage heat, motionless, soundless, waiting. Waiting for a miracle to come.
I've just sent my son out the front door to school. Do good with the phone, I said once more (hopefully not once too much). He replied with a subdued, thoughtful Uh-Huh.
What I really wanted to say was Do God with the phone.
But I am still waiting and praying for that day to come.
Yours, Alex
Praying is waiting.
Did I just say something hackneyed? Or is it too obvious that we replaced the truth with a counterfeit? Instead of waiting, praying is often, to me, an unwilling compromise during times of extreme impatience.
Yesterday I finally gave my son a cell-phone after much thoughtful and prayerful gestation. I made it sound wholesome and edifying, but the experience was more like relinquishing a razor to a monkey.
When we were working out the terms and conditions of use, there were times I would just stare at the lump of worked-up hormones that is my son with a blank face, wondering when God will stop the deluge of insult gushing out of his mouth and give this father a square-inch of dry land to stand on.
The phone looks cheap,
the phone looks old,
the phone looks slow,
the phone will crash like my friend's old tablet,
the protective case ain't cool,
my friends all have thousand-dollar phone without a case...
My son writes Imprecatory Psalms that don't rhyme.
Sure enough it was an entry-level phone from a year ago. But for phone's sake, your daddy works for a cellphone company!!!
At one point I was so seething with passive aggression that I asked him to leave my study room. I don't want you to witness me sinning against God, I rumbled these sorry syllables from the bottom of my dark chest.
At the end it all worked out OK; I guess. Till the end I didn't lose my temper; I thanked God.
I waited.
During the whole experience I've done a lot of nothing. When there is nothing to be done, I've learned to do nothing and wait. How I wanted my son to grow up, even just a tad bit, to meet me downstream maybe, hello-from-the-other-side perhaps, but please just throw me a bone when you are ready. Beam me up, son!
Waiting isn't learned helplessness; it only feels like so. When I waited, I prayed. It wasn't even intentional--it's like a reflex; you just can't help but pray. God's words to me, my words to God, my words to my son, they all just formlessly entwined as I stood there, within breathing distance to my son, slowly roasted by his teenage heat, motionless, soundless, waiting. Waiting for a miracle to come.
I've just sent my son out the front door to school. Do good with the phone, I said once more (hopefully not once too much). He replied with a subdued, thoughtful Uh-Huh.
What I really wanted to say was Do God with the phone.
But I am still waiting and praying for that day to come.
Yours, Alex
Raw, humble, vulnerable, generous, good Good News! You have given vocabulary and syntax to this dad... to many of us dads, no doubt. Thank you, Alex.
ReplyDeleteThank you my brother. Really appreciate your encouragement and eagerly looking forward to our next conversation, up the mountain or down the valley.
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