fatherhood

Friday Flashback: Secret Stash

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

A few days ago I was exiting the church offices and saw Father McGinnis in the vestibule. He was preparing to leave, as well, but he was standing near a small table, the top of which was open like the lid to a chest. I had never noticed that it opened before, and for a split second, it appeared as though he was gathering belongings he has stashed near the door for his convenience.

In reality, he had also noticed for the first time that the table opened and simply wanted to see what, if anything, was inside. But the initial impression called me back, back…

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Movie Break: A Good Old-Fashioned Scare

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

Halloween night was always a favorite as a kid—and as a dad, when our kids were old enough to enjoy it. Dressing up is always fun, and, like reading fairy tales, I think traipsing about the neighborhood after dark trying to scare friends and family (not to mention the delight in a being scared and then laughing about it afterward) helps children learn to manage their fears.

Plus, CANDY! (Of course.)

Now all but Lily have left the nest, and she is more inclined to roam the neighborhood with her middle-schooler friends than with her parents. I stayed home this year to hand out candy. I created a giant spider from three pumpkins, two gourds, eight long and crooked birch branches, and a length of rope; this Arachno-Lantern and Lily’s Schnoz-o-Lantern greeted the children and teens who haunted our doorstep, and I got to enjoy the comments and the costumes, plus two good, old-fashioned scary movies on the over-the-air MOVIES! television channel.

I’m not a big horror movie guy, especially these days. Scenes of torture and gore are not my speed; I prefer a little drama (we loved A Quiet Place), a lot of humor (Shaun of the Dead was a guilty pleasure), or a classic, somewhat campy, monster movie. The latter is what I got on All Hallows Eve.

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Grandpa Vibes

/ J. Thorp / 1 Comment

Blogger’s Note: Now that I’m writing for a living again, I am trying to find my way back to writing for the heck of it (i.e., for the sheer enjoyment). Wish me luck!

A curious thing happened at the St. Michael Catholic Church Fall Festival last month. The celebration was just getting underway on the church grounds; I was setting up a St. Vincent de Paul display in the gathering space of the church (which also serves as our cry room), and Saturday evening Mass was about to culminate in the reception of Holy Eucharist.

Just then, a young father approached me with his infant daughter in his arms. I am familiar with this young man: We are close friends with his wife’s family and attended his wedding, though I’m not sure I ever spoke to him directly before this moment.

He leaned close and whispered, so as not to disturb the other parents praying nearby: “Would you mind bringing our baby down to her mom? She’s working in the food tent outside. It’s almost time for Communion, and baby needs mom-time!”

I was not expecting this, but the prospect of snuggling this baby, even for a few minutes, was irresistible. “Sure!” I said, extending my arms to receive the precious bundle, “Happy to do it!”

“I knew if I found someone like you or John*, I’d be all set,” the young man said. “Thank you.” Then he knelt and returned to prayer.

As I carefully descended the stairs, I nuzzled the fuzzy head near my chin and a wave of infant sweetness swept over me. Her eyes were open wide, but she seemed content. I stopped at the bottom, closed my eyes, smiled, and sighed, briefly contemplating if it would be a violation of trust to find a quiet corner to enjoy this blessing while she was peaceful and quiet. I shook off the desire and headed out to the festival grounds.

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Blessings Abound in Family Life

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

Last weekend I shared a photo of our driveway, packed to the curb with vehicles, with a caption suggesting that older parents would understand what a blessing it was. A full driveway means a full house, and the hassle of juggling vehicles is more than made up for by the joy of hearing the voices and laughter of our adult children and their friends mingled with Lily’s—our youngest and the only one still home on a regular basis.

Emma surprised us by coming home from the University of Mary on Monday night, ahead of a Holy Week snowstorm in North Dakota. Gabe joined us for supper and Mass on Holy Thursday and stayed until Tuesday, and Trevor plus two out-of-state classmates from Saint John Vianney College Seminary arrived Easter Sunday morning and headed back to Saint Paul with Gabe in time for Bishop Izen’s ordination.

I love our old traditions and the kids’ insistence that we abide by them: going to the Triduum liturgies; flat bread, grape juice, and the Last Supper account after Holy Thursday Mass; silence (or close to it) from noon to 3:00 PM on Good Friday and The Passion of the Christ in the evening; baskets and coloring Easter eggs on Holy Saturday, before the Vigil; and the mysterious Bunny hiding eggs and baskets in the wee hours before Sunday morning.

And I love the new things that arise from older offspring who are doing their own things now: Gabe wearing sandals like a true Franciscan on Good Friday and leading a group to pray at Planned Parenthood; Trevor and his classmates vesting for two Easter Sunday Masses after a full Triduum at the seminary; and sharing Easter greetings with Brendan, Becky, and our grandsons in Rome via video call.

It was a beautiful, blessed Easter.

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Autumn Update

/ J. Thorp / 1 Comment

The older I get, the more I repeat myself, so you may have heard this before: I would take six months of October. A half year of crisp, cool, color-filled autumn; about six weeks of snowy white winter between Thanksgiving and roughly New Year’s Day, and the balance a long, blooming spring that turns green but never quite gets hot.

If ever I find the right combination of latitude and altitude, I’ll be gone. You’re welcome to visit.

We’re currently blessed with a beautiful October here in Minnesota. The leaves turned from green to gold, red, orange, and bright yellow in a few short days, it seemed; a thunderstorm stripped the top two-thirds of one tree across the street, but left the others intact, and even a sticky, wet snowfall earlier this week served only to make the color pop before vanishing into the soil before noon.

This morning the rooftops are coated in pale frost, but the ground is wet and smells like year’s end. Indoors, coffee’s in my cup, bluegrass is on the radio, and a whiff of the furnace’s first burnings is blowing up from the registers. It’s gonna be a good day.

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