I’m forgetful when I’m crabby

Today I am crabby. And when I am crabby, my wife and kids suffer, because I am insufferable. I get this way when the right combination of conditions create the perfect storm in my temperament.

1. I have had a phlebotomy, meaning I am one pint low on blood.


2. I skip a meal, meaning my blood glucose is low.


3. I forget just how wonderful, right, and good my wife and children are, meaning I know I don't deserve them but I don't want to admit it.

I can blame the former two on physiology. But the latter item is pure jerk. And today it was set off by being awoken out of a nap (I'm aware of the irony that I am complaining while living a lifestyle that allows me to take midday naps!) by my daughter speaking cute-talk to ZsuZsu, the indoor cat. Which is fine, except my seemingly ungrateful Labrador, Cheerio perks up and goes barreling down the stairs to see what is being offered to the pets. Want want want, me me me, more more more. "I'm needy." "I want." "Give to me."

Sigh. Well… she IS a dog. So I'll say no more.

But just as I'm drifting back into sleep, mmmmmm, sleep, I'm awoken by my daughter again, whose all excited about something to do with the Captain America movie and is explaining it to my wife. Logan, who is upstairs outside my door designing a lego-something-or-another perks up and goes barreling down the stairs. "What?!" "Captian-America-what?!" "Did you say something about Captain America?" "Are we going to see Captain America?" Not if I don't get some sleep, you're not!

I usually find it adorable when my children are excited by simple things like seeing a movie. But… today… the perfect storm has brewed… and I am NOT in the mood!

Did I not SAY we would see Captain America?

Did you not believe me?

Aren't we driving all the way to south west Austin tomorrow to go the Lego event and buy you, probably everything?

Where's the thank you for that? Haven't heard it yet?

Didn't one of you just see, like, three movies this month? On my dime? Where's the thank you for that?

Didn't you just get new school clothes, like, a month early? Hmm? Thank you?

Don't you live a big house I can't afford in the country with two cars in the driveway and four computers and go to outstanding schools and get to do EVERYTHING with your friends so long as it isn't illegal, immoral, or fattening?

Didn't you FORGET Father's Day?

Don't you have chores to do?

(Insert exasperated sigh here)

By tonight, I will have remembered that Mahalia is an excellent student who sacrifices evenings and weekends to serve her community in the Civil Air Patrol. That she is beautiful and funny, and doesn't know it, and doesn't care. That she gets everything, but asks for nothing.

That Logan has overcome so much since his premature birth and endless months in the hospital, to become a focused student who loves camping, and engineering, and Cub Scouts. He takes his commitment to doing a good deed everyday seriously. He is always anxious to lend a hand, and never complains.

That Mahalia is a tireless reader. She shares my love of mystery and science fiction. She passionately seeks me out to watch old episodes of Doctor Who and X-Files. She fasts, and prays, and reads her scripture.

That Logan shares my interest in Air Power, woodworking, and bad-ass cars. He loves his country and the flag. And.. well.. he knows who Jesus IS anyway.

And Brook… is everything. She's saved me. She's shown me a possibility that was once not even in my understanding. She has brought me grace, and goodness, and hope. She permeates everything I am with her beauty, and laughter, and wisdom. She's done more than complete me, she's my beginning. No poetry does her justice. Majesty doesn't dare speak her name.

Yep. By tonight I will have remembered all of that.

Enjoy your weekend friends,

--Scot

A rose by another name: Scot

My daughter and I bought my wife four Peace Rose bushes this past Mother's Day. Oh my goodness, you'd have thought we struck gold. My wife is out with those roses every day, trimming, watering, weeding, and caring. Nearly every morning the breakfast table is adorned with a beautiful full and fragrant bouquet of pinks and peaches. When they are fully bloomed, you can smell them all around the kitchen table. And when I snap a picture with my phone's camera, the flash makes them light up and glow. They are simply glorious, in a way that I'm sure the roses in Heaven probably smell and glow.

My wife puts them in the fridge at night. Because if she doesn't ZsuZsu, the indoor cat, pulls them out of the water so she can drink from the little vase. They lie about on the table all night, wilting. They lose their color and the pedals darken a bit on the edge. In the morning, if you're not careful the pedals will tumble off the stem.

I was looking at just such a display this morning over breakfast. I was admiring how they tried so hard to maintain their color for me. And how you have to get really close, but they still smell sugary and wonderful. I glanced up to see my wife glaring at them with disdain. I'm sure she was more infuriated with the cat, but nonetheless… and I resented her just a bit for it.

I felt so silly connecting so deeply with flowers. Flowers! Not manly plants like oak trees or fire bushes. But pretty little pink and peach flowers. Dead ones, no less. But in them, I saw me. Picked at through these years, from time to time lying helplessly thirsting for more water, Living Water. Resented by a flesh seeking more beauty, more life, more fullness. More. But I hope that when God sees me, this dilapitated leftover, picked at and exhausted, He says, "WOW, all that color! Mmm, and the fragrance! Not dead yet. Nope. Beautiful. Scot, you are just beautiful."

Have a great day, friends. Enjoy.

--Scot