I am sitting in a condo overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Rosarito, Baja California, Mexico. A blanket of cool, moist, and soothing coastal fog envelops the landscape. The temperature hovers at about 70 degrees Fahrenheit, not what seems 70 degrees Celsius as in the Valley of the Sun!
I left Scottsdale on Friday afternoon—about three hours later than I had intended. I had a 7:00 p.m. appointment in Orange, California—a vespers program for a small group of adolescents belonging to my daughter’s youth group. You can see why I did not want to be late. But as is often the case, the list of things to do and people to connect with prior to my departure overran the time allotted, as did my stress level. Very few things stress me—being behind schedule is one of the few things that elevate my aforementioned stress index. My level was through the roof by the time I left the TAA campus at about 1:30 p.m.
I pressed the limits of my Prius as I flew below radar down Interstate 10 between Phoenix and San Bernardino. I arrived at my appointment at about 7:05 p.m. and had a wonderful evening with the kids— one of which I remembered as a small child early in my days at Orangewood Academy. She is now a freshman at a local high school. Amazing how time flies!
The next morning I enjoyed leading the Youth Sabbath School Class the Orange church, where my daughter, Amanda, works as a youth pastor. I had a great time with the youth group—all two of them! At least I had met them the night before. Then I enjoyed a wonderful sermon preached by my daughter. This was the reason I had planned on coming early to the PUC Constituency Meeting that begins this evening in Ontario. She preached about God doing extraordinary things through plain and ordinary people. She even managed to say some nice things about me towards the end of her sermon. My heart swelled with paternal pride, not only because she was my daughter, but because my ministerial genes had passed on to the next generation.
Friday nights and Sabbaths with the family are what I miss most from my past life in California. Although we were all busy during the week, Friday nights always brought the nuclear family together for a meal and some serious conversations about life, religion, politics, and family. Sabbath post-church meals were an extended family event consisting of dozens of children, grandchildren, nephews, nieces, uncles, aunts, in-laws, and friends gathering in family homes on the Sabbath lunch rotation. The conversations usually lasted into the late afternoon. As a result we (Penny, my son Robert, and I) did not get going to Mexico, where my oldest son and his family had already gone the previous day, until late afternoon. Sabbath ended before we crossed the border. I stopped at my favorite food dive—El Ruso. We stayed up late with the family, minus Amanda and Jeff, enjoying some movies on the large screen.
I woke up early to get some work done and then went back to lay down for a while only to be surprised by my grandson Ruben who informed me that he could not play rough with girls, only boys. He then informed me I was a boy and thus qualified as someone with whom he could roughhouse. He then proceeded to jump high on the bed and land on my chest— more than a few times. It was the best feeling in the world at that particular moment. He is talking so much!
Family—what would I do without them? I realize my calling is in Arizona and I will be there until God takes me somewhere else or takes me, period! There is a cost to discipleship—my cost, for now is my family. I am not the first, nor will I be the last, but for today, sitting in a condo overlooking the Pacific—watching little Ruben standing on the bed smiling at me while playing with a Nerf stick, Janelle, my daughter-in-law, cooking in the kitchen and my two boys, Penny, and my granddaughter sitting in the living room—I am thankful for my calling and for the brief moments from which to draw memories for the hot and dry days of the Arizona summer that await my return to Scottsdale in a few days. God is good—all the time!
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