Baby, Brother

Nearly a month ago now, on October 6, our eldest son and his bride welcomed their first child into the world. The birth of a child is an everyday occurrence; all across the globe, fathers fret as mothers labor to bring wriggling, helpless, little humans into this world, as we have for thousands of years. Medicine and technology have improved to the point that many—even the majority—of these children survive past infancy and on to adulthood, so that sometimes we forget how miraculous this is. Sometimes fathers and mothers even think they are primarily responsible for creating the new life they hold in their arms.

They are not.

Biologically speaking, we parents are certainly involved in the earthier aspects of the miracle, and in our better moments, we may even desire, will and proactively seek to bring a child into the world. But no amount of wishing or willing can create a child or bring him or her to term. God does the hard work and invites us along for the ride. So it was for Jodi and me, when we welcomed each of our five children into the world—and in another, profound way, when we lost our little Jude. And so it is for Brendan and Becky.

His name is Augustine James Thorp.* I’m a dziadzi.**

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‘The World Should Go On’

This morning Facebook served up a memory from nine years ago:

Quote of the Day from poet Carl Sandberg: ” A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”

September 29, 2011

We were less than three months from welcoming Lily into the world at the time. Today we are almost certainly within two weeks of welcoming our first grandchild. “Baby Boombastic,” as Brendan and Becky’s baby has been affectionately nicknamed by his or her youngest uncle Ben, could emerge any moment, and not a moment too soon.

Oma and Dziadzi cannot wait to meet you, little one.

This past weekend we were blessed to celebrate the wedding of our eldest Engeldaughter, Kate, to her own beloved Brendan (not ours). Jodi and I were the host couple, as Mike and Stacy had been for us last winteressentially managing the details so the parents of the bride and groom could absorb the graces of the day. It was a great joy to be able to serve our extended family in this way, and for a guy like me, who easily slips into introspection, these duties forced me to raise my gaze and watch the celebration unfold.

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Like a Baby

My bride left for work early this morning. She was up at 5 AM or thereabouts; I was vaguely aware of running water in the bathroom and a blaze of light from the lamp on her nightstand. I believe I said goodbye when she left, but did not rise.

When my alarm sounded at 6 AM, I was again sleeping soundly. For years now I have maintained that my best sleep invariably comes in the hours just after sunrise, and this morning was no exception. I extinguished the alarm, thought briefly about getting out of bed, then reset the alarm for 6:30, rolled over and closed my eyes.

Immediately pangs of guilt pierced my chest: You should get up. You’re wasting the day. You have prayers to say and work to do.

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Leaving Home, Heading Home

Earlier this week, our second son, Gabe, returned to NET Ministries for a third year, this time as a staff member and traveling team supervisor. When he graduated from high school, college wasn’t calling him; God was. We are blessed to live in a Catholic community with a history and large appetite for supporting such missionaries—the past two years he has been fully funded, enabling extra donations to flow to teammates and friends with less support. He has crisscrossed the state and much of the country, logging tens of thousands of miles on lots of prayer and little sleep, fueled by egg bakes and pizzas, sloppy joes and taco bars. He has shared the word of God, the love of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit with thousands of middle- and high-schoolers.

He is doing what he loves, and he is good at it. You can get the low-down on the past two years and this year on his blog, Stand Against Goliath—click Mission Update 2020: A New Adventure.

Coronavirus brought him home early this spring, and we were glad to have him. He helped tremendously around the house, schooling his youngest sister, eight-year-old Lily; discovering new recipes and cooking several great meals; helping me get into the habit of praying the Liturgy of the Hours, and generally doing whatever we asked of him. Continue reading

A Man of Many Fathers

In the spirit of my Mother’s Day post from last month, I thought I raise a post and a pint to the fathers who matter most in my life to receive God’s blessing. Happy Father’s Day!

To Daryl, my dad and dziadzi to my children: You set a high bar for fatherhood and sacrificial love, Dad, and even though we are quite different, I still strive to be like you in so many ways. Thank you for your constant care, support and example. I love you.

To all the priests who have blessed me over the years. To Fr. Kubiak, my baptismal priest; Fr. Hart, the priest of my First Reconciliation and First Communion; my spiritual father, Fr. Bill Zink, the priest of my reversion, Confirmation, and first call to ministry; and the various shepherds who, at critical moments in my conversion, have called me to deeper discipleship: Fr. Leonard Siebenaler, Fr. Michael Becker, Fr. Michael Rudolf, Fr. Peter Richards, Fr. Nathaniel Meyers, Fr. Nathan LaLiberte, Fr. Joah Ellis, and Jim Englert. I am eternally grateful, and I love you.

To Brendan, my eldest son and expectant father of our first grandchild: It humbles me to see you and your bride step so calmly and confidently into marriage and family life. I am inspired by your love and example, I cannot wait to see your little one asleep in your arms (or erupting out both ends!)—and I love you. Continue reading