Birthdays

What is a birthday?


Today I have telephoned birthday greetings to my younger brother, Bruce, and my cousin, Sharon, and sent Facebook greetings to our friend, Donna Wood, and to a good friend and classmate of Ched's, Barrett Stehr . . . all of which got me to pondering on 'birthdays'. What is a birthday, anyway?

We celebrate the day each of us caused our mothers great pain . . . yet, on the other hand, we celebrate the day that, after nine months of a 'free ride', our mothers were finally able to shoot us out into the world and no longer have to carry us.

We celebrate the day that a doctor or nurse spanked our bare behind, causing us to cry, while everyone stood around and said how cute it was . . . yet, on the other hand, we celebrate the day that, upon finding our voices, we have for the most part never since shut up.

We celebrate the day that our father's, having just learned of our birth, started handing out cheap cigars to anyone who would smoke one with them as they bragged about this new life in the family . . . yet, on the other hand, we celebrate the day that our fathers, having now just met us for the first time, continue to smoke cigars just to cover the stench of our poopie diapers.

We celebrate the day that many of our family and friends gathered at the window of the Nursery in the hospital to coo and make over our recent arrival . . . yet, on the other hand, we celebrate the day that our friends and family started the public tradition of staring and making strange faces at us, regardless the circumstance, expecting us to continually tell them how much we appreciate their attention.

We celebrate the day that our siblings first get a chance to hold us and have their pictures taken with us . . . yet, on the other hand, we celebrate the day our siblings begin to run the other direction every time they see us, praying that they won't have to take care of us and put us with us in front of their friends.

What is a birthday, anyway?

We mark our age in years, our intelligence in ACT or SAT numbers, our personality type in Briggs Myers identifiers, and our maturity in shoe sizes. We add candles to our cakes until we are old enough to know better then, rather than call the fire department to put out the increasing flame, we just quit using candles as though no more years are being added. We can't wait for birthday gifts when we are young, can't figure out what to do with the novelty gifts when we are older, tell folks the best gift is their presence when we are middle aged, then, when we are old, we figure everyone forgot about us when they neither show up, nor send a gift. We post our birth date on social network websites, then complain about people knowing too much about us. We give our birth date information to every credit card company and loan officer we meet, then bark if the government seems intrusive by asking for the same information. Men cannot ask women how old they are and women really don't want to know how old men are (mostly because men rarely act their age anyway). And, birthdays are that one day in time when we are expected to be cordial to people who wish us well, even when we wouldn't give the time of day to the one addressing us (in all Christian humility, of course!).

So, what is a birthday?

It is a contradiction in terms providing florists, card shops, retail stores, bars, and ice cream places with ample opportunity to make a huge profit from our schizophrenia. It is a day for family, friends, co-workers, social network folk, and even strangers to make fun of us, all perfectly certain that 'as a good sport' we will take their abuse without a word. It is a day for siblings to chastise us, parents to rue us, and neighbors to torment us. Yet, the one thing which is most clear to me this day as I ponder 'birthdays' and their meaning: I am extraordinarily pleased for the opportunity to have one each year.

In all that a birthday may or may not be for you, I pray you enjoy each one fully, for truly, each is a gift of God.

Ched's Twentieth Birthday

Twenty years ago today, about this very hour in fact, Christian Edward Wagner (Ched) was born. I remember the day well, since Ched was the first of our children whose birth I would witness. Matthew, Raymond and Ched were all born by Cesarean section. When the older two were born the father was not allowed in the delivery room in that particular facility, but by the time Ched came along birthing practices had changed and I could be in the room with Nancy as she gave birth.

It was an incredible moment, one which words cannot encapsulate, yet one that the heart fully takes in and ponders . . . much as Mary 'pondered' throughout His life the birth of Jesus. The human birthing process is, at it's best, nine months long with a special focus and 'push' at the end . . . all of which is a gift of God and the work of the mothers among us. Ched was no different. Yet, as with each of his older brothers, the umbilical cord which gave him life through his mother also had an early connection to his father. Don't tell them, but each of them has always had me wrapped around their finger. Long before I looked into their eyes, I loved them. Long before I held them, I knew them. Long before they walked, they ran through my heart . . . and today we celebrate the birthing of our youngest son, Ched.

Much has happened in his twenty years and most of that is closely associated with faith, family, academics, sports, and friends. Still, I believe, what is before Ched will make what is past seem mighty small, for the future is as big as a person dares to believe and as broad as God equips them to achieve. For Ched, his twentieth birthday is a celebration of what has been a spectacular journey thus far and, also, an anticipation of where God will lead him in the days ahead. As the great cultural anthropologist among us, Buzz Lightyear, proclaims, "To infinity and beyond!", and our living becomes a response to that possibility. So it is with Cadet 3rd Class Christian E. Wagner, Soaring Instructor Pilot in the 94th Flying Training Squadron of the United States Air Force Academy - "To infinity and beyond!"

The words, 'Happy birthday' are incapable of carrying the joy, the love, the wonder of who you are becoming in our lives and in the world, Ched, still, from my heart to yours, from a father's lips to the ear of his youngest son, from the faith of my soul to the yearning of yours, 'Happy birthday, Ched! You are a gift of God in our family, to the Church, to our community, our nation and our world. Much like your older brothers, you are still discovering the wonders of what God has to show you - and only you can take the journey you are on. However, know in your heart that our love goes with you. As your root is set deep in the connective tissue of family, so extend to the heavens the expressiveness and vision of who you are becoming in God. We are so very proud of you!'

Who knew twenty years ago where you would be flying today? Why knows where you will soar in the days ahead? Ride the strong currents of the Spirit in celebration of this day and all else will take care of itself. I love you, Ched.

Dad

On the occasion of our youngest son's 17th birthday

In all of God's creative imagination and wisdom, children must bring to God the wry-est of smiles. My mother repeatedly said to me, "I hope your children grow up to be just like you so that you will know what you have done to me!" and, as God would have it, mothers have a way of getting just what they want . . . . . . our children and grandchildren are all perfect, each in their own way, just as is their father. (I am mentally pausing here to let the laughter subside of those who really know me.)

Today is the 17th birthday of our youngest gift of God's perfection among us, Ched, and I cannot let the day pass without saying what is on my heart to him:

My dearest Ched,

I remember the day in May, in South Bend, Indiana, when you were born. We should have known immediately what an interesting journey we were in for with you when, after cutting the umbilical cord, the nurse took you to a scale to weigh you and found you to weigh only about four pounds. The nurse knew the scale was wrong and took you to another scale to weigh you and found you to be healthy and robust at over seven pounds . . . . and you have been living by a different set of scales ever since.

Some people measure life by awards on the wall and, though surely you have already amassed a number of them, you have never been one of those who use such a measuring stick. You have always measured life by the wide diversity of friends around you, the pleasure of listening to music you really like, offering a helpful hand as needed, the pursuit of knowledge which interests you, and the accumulation of wisdom which makes you a better person in the world. Don't ever stop measuring life in such wonderful ways!

Some people believe that being the youngest in the family means that you must have had to grow up in the shadow of those who are before you. Unfortunately, people stuck in such beliefs reflect more of their own challenges than a understanding of who you are. They have never met you. You have never been one to dwell in the shadows of your brothers, you have been (and are) far too busy in the sunshine of God's Light in your life to worry about the shadows others cast. You are as intrigued by the light of the sun as you are curious about the twinkle of the stars. Your life is an undimmed expression of faith, joy and hope, all wrapped up in the tenderness of one who exercises great expectations of what God has yet to reveal in you and through you. You are your own unique light of God in our world and I simply love watching what you are doing to dispel the darkness of the present age.

Some people say that being the youngest of three boys, all who have gone through the same school system, means that you are always having to strive to be better than your brothers were in school. It brings tears to my eyes as I think on how all three of you boys have been your own person throughout your educational and extra-curricular years. As your older brothers before you, you have cut a wide swath in the educational arena, taking the hardest courses, challenging the toughest teachers, and earning the highest grades possible, not because someone else set the standard for you, but because you set high standards for yourself. Equally, on both the field of play and on the stage of group activities, you have earned the respect of advisor and teammate alike in your tenacious capacity to work hard, not only for the sake of personal growth, but for the sake of whole. You do not find it necessary to diminish others in your striving to shine, for you understand the brightness the whole of humanity might offer if everyone works together - and I am humbled by your gracious nature.

Some people say that, at 17, you have a whole lot to learn and little of substance to offer. I say that, at 17, yes, you do have a whole lot to learn, but you, my son, have a substantial wealth of maturity, faith and wisdom to offer all of the 'some peoples' in the world. You have spent 17 years in the fishbowl of a pastor's home, the parsonage or manse as some would call it, and have had to deal with more people with issues of domestic violence, death notifications, hospital emergency calls, marriage crises, non-payment of rent, need for medicine, transients, complaints about the pastor, concerns about the church, and older adults just needing someone to talk to, than anyone would ever, could ever, believe . . . . and always you have treated the ones in need with respect, love and care. Your simple acts of hospitality to the stranger have never made you better than them, but have always made you companions with them in the twistedness of life's journey and, believe me, most folk would rather have a trustworthy caring companion on the journey than all of the well-meaning substantive advice in the world.

I am so proud of you - and of who you are becoming. None of us are the finished product of what God intends in us, but you, at 17, are well on the way. Just as no race in the track meet will ever completely define you, neither will any one event or day contain all that you will become in God. What matters is how you run the race, the tenacity with which you persevere, your capacity to be a gentleman on the track as well as off, your faith in the God who is with you in every step, and your attention to those with whom you share the challenges before you.

We are blessed that you are our son, just as we are blessed with your older brothers. God has made each of you in that most peculiar and particular way which identifies you as one of God's own: Your eyes reflect God's love. On this day I am grateful for all of the basketball games, the soccer games, the track meets, the golf games, the days in the pool, the hours of talking, the projects worked on together, and the times our family has shared laughter and challenge. But, most of all, I am simply, tearfully, joyful that I am blessed, that we are blessed, to call you 'son', for like the Son before you whose actions led His Father to announce from heaven, "With you I am well pleased!" so, too, you are rising from the birthwaters to do what you are gifted to do in God's creation and that is most pleasing to me.

I love you, Ched. Happy 17th birthday!

Dad

Bruce

It is the birthday of my brother, Bruce, and I just hung up from talking with him this morning. He lives in Independence, Kansas, and we live in Lebanon, Illinois, and now, many years after our 'growing up together', we are probably closer and more caring for each other than we ever were when we shared the same room as boys. What is it that gives us the capacity to see the members of our family more clearly at a couple of hundred miles of distance than when they sat shoulder to shoulder with us at the kitchen table? What is it that time clarifies and distance focuses?

Bruce, the youngest of four boys, was always the one who loved electronics. Mom and Dad purchased a Radio Shack 'do-it-yourself' radio kit for him one year and the rest is history. He flourishes in his work with Garmin at the Cessna Airplane Corporation in Independence and has become so skilled in what he does that he often has the opportunity to teach others how to do it. And I am incredibly proud of my 'little brother' . . . .

There is an old German saying, "Too soon old, too late smart." which is a painfully accurate paradigm for many of the relationships we have in this life. Too soon we reach an age where we look around ready celebrate life with the ones who mean the most to us . . . and too soon we realize that the ones by whom we are surrounded are not the ones who mean the most to us. The most intimate and meaningful of family relationships are often sacrificed on the altars of 'Making It On My Own', 'Getting Away From This Place', and 'Success Will Never Happen Here', and, when all is said and done, years and miles have accomplished much more than we anticipated they would and we are left with the hollowness of occasional visits and birthday telephone calls. Oddly enough, for many, it is just like their relationship with God and their sporadic Sunday visits with their Creator . . . . leaving us to wonder if remediation and healing will ever be possible.

The presence of Christ gives us hope. Across the miles and years, God extends God's hand of love to embrace our directions and bridge the chasm of self-perceived unforgiveability. In the power of the Holy Spirit, God applies the twin balms of mercy and grace to our broken lives and, like the father of the Prodigal Son, welcomes us back into the home where, really, in God's heart, we have never, ever left.

I love Bruce more today than he knows . . . and am so proud that he is my brother. Miles and years have clarified how much more I need him in my life than he needs me, which could be said of each of my brothers, and that is very humbling. Yet, isn't that the point? Too soon we get old and, just as the notion begins to pierce our thick skulls that we need family, too late we get smart and realize family is no longer close at hand . . . . and we stand at the end of the road looking across the fields at the home of our childhood wondering if ever we can return.

Thanks, Bruce, for taking my call this morning and I do truly pray you a very happy birthday. You may never be as old as me, but I pray you are many times smarter than me long before you become my age. I am blessed that you and I are family, no matter where age and life leads us.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Age is Relative & Love is Ageless

It has been said that, 'Age is relative.' It has also been said that, 'If you are talking to a relative, never mention age.'

Personally, I prefer the old adage, 'Growing old is inevitable, but growing up is optional,' for that is truly how I see myself: Slowly growing up, even though I am quickly growing old. The good husband that I am, I will not presume to speak for my lovely wife, whose birthday is today. She has become my age and, together, we are a century old, but I would never, ever tell her age. What sane man would?

Yet, in my eyes, her age is relative, for our love for each other is ageless. When I look at Nancy, I still see her standing shyly in the upper hallway of the New Addition of the Grade School waiting, while a mutual friend came up to me and asked, "That girl over there really likes you. Do you like her?" I looked at her, standing there in her ankle length blue coat (it was Winter of 1970), and told our friend, "Oh, yeah." And the rest is history. She was in 7th Grade and I was in 8th. Little did we know . . . .

Some might say, 'If we knew then, what we know now, things might have been different,' but I don't think so. We don't always see eye-to-eye, but we always have an eye for each other. We may not agree on every issue, but we always agree on the issue of each other. We struggle sometimes with the direction God is calling us to go, but we never struggle with the notion that God has called us to each other and, with each other, we will go wherever we are called.

Our diverse and self-indulgent American culture sends out a myriad of mixed signals about how men and women are to relate to each other - and what they can expect from each other. God's culture comes to us through Christ and is a singular message to both women and men, a message of mutual respect, care, and compassion for the other. True love in relationship is a gift above all gifts, for in the heart of love, in the unselfishness of complete sharing, in the uninhibited winding of all that two might share in becoming one, there is the presence of God. Such gifts do not age, at least as we think of age. They mature, get better, more flavorful, more delectable.

That does not mean there won't be bumps in the road, but life is a choice: You can choose either to go through the potholes of life with someone who will accuse you of aiming for them just to make your life difficult or you choose to go through the potholes of life with someone who will laugh with you as you are jumbled around in the car. Your choice.

I choose God's gift in my life, that ageless, loving woman who can laugh with me and makes me laugh through the ride of our lives in this world. Nancy, may your every birthday be happy, may your every happiness be strengthened in faith, and may your faith always be full in the One from whom all blessings flow. In love, let's grow up slowly together, shall we?

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don