Mr. Weiss, our resident octagenarian, has been in CA for some time, now. He has lived on the first floor, with a winter in Europe and CA, since we moved here, about 18 months back.
When we arrived, Mom was in the final passings of cancer. We chose the house, with prayer as a place of passing and redemption... a place that could house a family, multigenerational, in community with the church, in mission to the world around us...
Dad has been like a father to me. He's actually Judy's dad. and I think now and then about my parents--how they must feel at times, since i became a radical jesusman and left NY and the lifestyle I was raised in...
...how i choose stray bullets and racial slurs for my children... third-rate schooling and fatherless peers with major life-defects...
...how our table is peopled with strangers and foreigners... how our couches and extra beds are devoted to hospitality for our brothers and sisters who are cold and homeless...
and i think that my parents couldn't help but feel proud... and glad...
i'm proud of my parents, Quentin and Sylvia, who did more than most with what they had... who conceived, sheltered, and fostered my life in my young years...
i feel more sympathy for them, every day. As I attempt not to ruin my kids, myself, I think of their plight during my younger years... those were hard days, and they weathered them.
Mom, Dad, I love you...
Mr. Weiss, John, Pops, I love you, too... God's blessing be on your trip to Europe and Israel. We miss you here. All of us. The churchones, the kids, Tim...
It's not easy to live with so many people, and our clutter is terrible. But a lot of us have been pitching in, and the clutter is way down on the first floor...
We've been watching Nanny 911, and i think its helping...
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