astonished

This is an interesting experience, maybe unique for me. Sunset and after dark Sunday evening, sitting outside on this balcony not doing anything or watching, seeing anything, as there's naught to see. Just being. Well, there’s audio, hearing the surf, but the surf is not to listen to, is it, it just is, the old salt sea rolling ashore. So, being. Breeze constant and a bit cool on the legs, inside for pajama pants, back out into pitch black dark. Shrieks of children in the surf below, or they might be in the pool, or running on the beach. 

Exhausted from Saturday's long hours clearing out a hot attic, scores of trips up and down the outside stairs, I had a very long Sunday afternoon nap, several hours and now may not be able to sleep. Or sleep a bit then awake at one or two o’clock, so what else is new, it’s life and I’m loving it, including or especially my odd hours.

Mind wanders. Sunday morning church was extraordinary. Based on Paul to Philippians, a sermon about astonished, being astonished. With everything about life, astonished. In my lifetime I’ve preached a thousand sermons and more, heard another thousand, and this is the only one I’ll remember. If you missed it, I'm sad for you, because it was one in two thousand, came itself as astonishment, that I've not been especially astonished daily and moment to moment these eight decades. But I am now. At the moment, astonished at being alive. And here.  

A prominent consultant on church growth recommends bring your cellphone to church, take pictures, record the sermon or bits of it, text or email pictures and sermon and liturgy bits and hymns and music, choir anthems, and the children, to friends “as we speak, sing, pray.” Best not to receive incoming calls, but all sending is up for the game. I dare you. I’ve done it, pics of the children’s choir sent, pic of Christian and Carla sent to Frank once. This morning as church ended I gave Christian a bag of cars, his mom says he likes cars, which rang my bell because it gets close to my heart where he is anyway, but a bag of cars as the closing hymn was ending. Several small cars that we'd had around the house for years, for visiting children to get out of the closet and play with. Two bigger cars. A 1936 Chrysler Airflow still in its box and on its display stand, but it’s to unscrew from the stand and a little boy to play with, if he breaks or tears it up, who cares, he’s a boy, boys are supposed to tear up cars, better at two than twenty-two. 

Chief, though, was one of my treasures for a boy who has been a treasure to me since even before he was born. It’s red and he grabbed it and held on. A rubber Auburn boat-tail speedster toy car. Based on this,

except it’s a rubber toy, for a boy to play with if he wants to, not for an old man's shelf of keepsakes. In 1980, driving from Harrisburg to participate in an Australian industry seminar presented in Milwaukee by the Australian DoD and Embassy, I suddenly realized I was not many miles from the Auburn Cord Duesenberg museum in Auburn, Indiana, so detoured down and spent an hour admiring. In their gift shop I bought that red Auburn boattail speedster and a blue Cord L-29 sedan. Rubber, they’re just toys. Time in life to give away treasures, eh, and this was one of my treasures for 34 years. Ryan got several of my cars over the years, he’s pretty grown up now, and gone; Christian a car today. Intended to snap a pic of him with it and text or email to Frank, but forgot my phone, which was at home charging when I reached for it.

Still being, just me and the surf. 

Oh, and there’s a nice woman out on the balcony here with me. She’s hung around with me 2014 - 1952 = 62 years, I'm astonished. We started dating when I was a senior and she a junior at Bay High. Fall 1952, it may have been October. 

Dawn now, soon. Cool, pleasant. Same surf. God astonishes me: I'm alive.

TCW