On my list of things not quite up to holiday worthiness – moving a week before Christmas.  Yep, [...]]]> Christmas is just days away and the kids have been counting it down. We’ve squeezed in some fun holiday time over the last few weeks – from sledding to making rock candy, baking and decorating gingerbread houses.

On my list of things not quite up to holiday worthiness – moving a week before Christmas.  Yep, we moved out of our Orchard Park townhouse this last Thursday and out to a duplex in Elma.  We’ve got acres upon acres behind house out here and are enjoying the country setting.

And in truth, I must admit that the move wasn’t unanticipated. I mean, we had to give 30 days notice to the OP property management group.  We knew we were moving this month.  We just didn’t expect it all to come together right before Christmas.

We were reminded this week though, after about day 3 of the move… just how much a move costs.  Not only is it the monetary cost of a new deposit (while the old one is still being held by the other landlark), but another month’s rent, the Uhaul truck, miscellaneous little things to purchase (some curtain rods and blinds, etc.) –but there’s also the physical and mental cost.  Whew, were we spent!  I mean, our feet ached.  Our bodies hurt.  Once again we were reminded of muscles we didn’t know existed… and of course we had nice 23- and 19-degree days to load and unload in.

But then again, if we didn’t do this, what stories would we have.  Everyone uses that ol’ uphill both ways in the snow line… but c’mon… get original.  Hey honey, lets see if we can move a week before Christmas and still put up a tree, and have Santa find the new place.  If the kids were older, they’d have been sweating it.  But at 4 and 3 (the 16-month old doesn’t yet have opinions on this topic, or so I’m told), our kids blindly believe, quite simply, that Santa will find them.

Now isn’t that an amazing thing?  Yep, the little buggers teach me about faith all the time.  We’re moving, and packing, and stressed and tired, and are my kids saying, “oh woe is us, will Santa find us?”  Heck no.  They’re saying, “5 more days til Christmas” and holding up as many fingers to prove it.  Exhausted or not, you’re darn right I’ll be wrapping presents and Santa will be finding this place.  Disappoint you guys?  No way. At least, not yet (as I’m sure the older they get until about 22, the more I’ll disappoint, but then, I know from 23 on, they’ll cycle back down, until by about 35, they’ll begin to see me as wise as I always knew I was!  That’s how it happened for me.  My dad and mom are wise – I couldn’t see it then, but I know it now!).

So we’re in… mostly.  We still have to clean the old place and pack the odds and ends… or throw them in the dumpster… because, I know, I know, but… it’s just too much work to donate it.  I mean, gone are the days when the dudes come to your house and pick up the stuff you want to give them. Seriously, I miss those days.  Because I’d be calling them now to say, take it all. If it’s still there, we don’t need it.

Christmas – my brother-in-law just surprised us by sending us to Best Buy to pick up a Christmas gift he’d bought us.  Turns out it’s a 42 inch plasma.  My eyes got big like softballs, then filled with tears… while Melodia was like, “Oh, it’s a tv.”

“Oh, it’s a tv?”  I love my wife.  And she will enjoy all her Wii games on her new tv, despite the nuances that “oh, it’s a tv” seems to miss.  Of course, she knows, I’ve been wanting one for 2 years but just couldn’t justify it.  Oh, and to be fair, she really was excited.  I shouldn’t throw her under the bus like that.

What we had was a 37″ box.  Yep, I must be among the last 20% of all Americans with the “old” style box tv that hadn’t yet converted to the “flat” world.  But my 37″ worked. If it’s not broken…

But here’s the rub, we’ve moved about 4 times in the last couple of years… and my 37-incher? She must weigh in at 75lbs.  The thing is huge and tough to lift, but I count it as one of my last remaining manly tests.  I mean, as long as I can still lift this lug and carry it out to the truck myself, whatever belly I’ve grown and weight I’ve gained, I’m still ok.  Nevertheless, oh how I’ve longed a flat, lighter, much easier to fit through doorways tv.

Tonight, I practically carried the 42-incher into the house with one hand.  Then promptly dragged the 37-incher across the floor toward the door, rugs curling up underneath its weight.

Anyone need a free tv?  I’d keep it, but why?  We only want one in the house, and we’re less tv addicts than the greater population. Our movie collection, though, is ridiculously huge, and our netflix subscription eternal.  So we’ll make good use out of this plasma.  But we’ve no need to keep lugging the elephant around.

I suggested to Melodia, let’s give it to the church for the kids programs…. she said, “Honey, the church bought all new flatscreens for all the kids rooms (there’s like 9 rooms!) last year.”  Yes, even the church was ahead of me on this one!  I mean, if you can’t give your junk to the church, who can you give it to?

And Christmas…  and Christmas is around the corner.  Tonight, we drove home with the kids singing carols in the car.  What great fun!  Our new place is just 5 minutes from a store we’ve been wanting to stroll through for months now… The Marilla Country Store.  This is an old-time country store with all the wonders of such a place. In fact, M and I were bummed we hadn’t been in sooner.

They have a spice pantry that’s awesome and cheaper than the grocery store. We picked up some premaid bags of dip spice, and chowder powder to give a try.  We cooked up shrimp chowder tonight with one of their spice arrangements… yummo.

If you’re out this way, and haven’t been, it’s worth the visit.  This summer, in Floyd, VA, we popped into an old-time country store just like The Marilla Country Store. It was wonderful; and here we’ve got a great one in our backyard.  It’s funny how little we know what’s around us.  I was amazed at two (somewhat competing concepts): 1) that The Marilla Country Store is still in business in the era of mega-marts and 2) that anyone would even choose to pad the mega-marts bottom line when little off-the-grid places like this exist.

Now I know, it’s usually a money thing.  The hole-in-the-walls are expensive so why not cheapo-mega-mart-x?  But in this case, The Marilla Country Store was better on many of the things we wanted to buy (spices, candy, etc.) than the chain store.  Cheaper and better?  Got to love that.

I think that about catches everyone up on our musings of late.  Next up? Probably a trip to the Pittsburgh IKEA for a little shopping fun… you know, the stuff Santa didn’t bring.

At any rate, Christmas is just about 2 days away as I type this. Wonderful.  Merry Christmas to you all!

Snow, that’s one thing I love about living in Buffalo.  Buffalo is not cold though some may think so.  Minnesota – that’s [...]]]> An awesome wintery storm is blowing across the country right now, blowing quite literally.  It hit Buffalo the other night.  As a result, we got about 1-2 feet of snow at our place.

Snow, that’s one thing I love about living in Buffalo.  Buffalo is not cold though some may think so.  Minnesota – that’s cold.  In Buffalo, we don’t see that many days in the single digits or below zero ever, but what we do see, is snow.

We have Great Lakes on Two sides and the air/water/wintery combination creates Lake Effect Snow that can drop 1-2 feet in no time.  So Buffalo isn’t necessarily the coldest place, but we’re a pretty snowy place.

But I love the snow.  I grew up in Michigan, and spent many days out in the snow… running into the house for warmups (hot chocolate, sitting by the furnace, etc.) before heading back out again and again.  We had a hill across the street, “the big hill” as we called it.  So sledding was always at my fingertips. I loved the snow.

The summer before my sophomore year of high school, we moved to Arizona. My parents were happy to get out of the snow.  I can understand that.  And I didn’t mind, at that point, leaving the snow behind. Moving was a grand adventure that sparked, I now believe, the wanderer in me. I became quite the traveler over the 10 year period leading from college to marriage.  It was hard for me to remain in the same geographic place for more than a year or two. I just loved moving, changing the scenery, etc.  I hit San Diego, Miami, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Columbus (OH), Atlanta, Knoxville, Chattanooga, and then Buffalo. Our Buffalo stop has been my longest since San Diego… 5 years… but I am tempted to travel once again.

Snow. One of the things I have always said though, was that I wanted my kids to grow up in the snow.  I wanted them to experience that.  Each winter, I am reminded that this was the right choice.  As soon as a snow falls, Wil and McKinely are all over us, “Can we go out in the snow?”  They love it.  There’s something special, magical, about snow.

Snow takes a dreary cold, and turns it bright white.  It does so with a forgiving blanket of white.  Whatever may lie under that blanket is hidden… I don’t know, I sort of think of snow as a living metaphor for understanding the this phrase, “covering over a multitude of sins.”  Snow covers it all up, brings freshness, and beauty… almost, a salvation of sorts.  They’re just something special about it.

I love the holidays; noted that in my last post.  But I do think that the holidays without snow are missing a vital ingredient. Snow makes the holidays that much more holi (ok, that doesn’t quite work, but the point is, they improve the holidays).

My favorite song of the season, at least on many a days and nights, is the snowy classic, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” I love that beautiful white.  I love knowing that my  kids are going to head out into it for some fun.  I love the way it brings a quiet stillness to the day or night.  I love how it reminds me of the season… of the reason… of the wonder of the world we live in.   The world isn’t always a beautiful place… but it can be.  Snow reminds me that… it can be… it can be beautiful.

When the muck and mire of fall is covered in white, the dead leaves on the ground are covered in white, fallen trees are covered in white, the neighbors junk?  Yes, they too are covered in white. And the white just makes it all ok, makes it all beautiful.  And the hustling, bustling sounds of the world seem to stop – except for the occasional snow plow and its backup beep- beep – beep… – but the snow, it seems to cover both the site and sound of the world in white and quiet… and peace reigns.

Standing out in the wintery white, for a moment, it’s easy to forget all the “to-dos,” forget all the appointments, stress, tasks to finish… and just live in the moment, a moment of quiet, white peace reigning down upon us.  Yes, tis the season, and I’m so glad it is.  So I’ll be saying and singing all through it, “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

This Thanksgiving I was thankful for much:

But Thanksgiving’s tomorrow, and today I’m getting my first moments of a break.  Now, really, come [...]]]> Whew!  I just finished working a 16-day straight stretch on campus at Medaille.  Two weekends of my students’ running events plus an open-house, basketball games and hockey to be webstreamed… it’s all just made for a very busy time.

But Thanksgiving’s tomorrow, and today I’m getting my first moments of a break.  Now, really, come Friday, Saturday, Sunday, I’ve got a lot of work to do catching up on grading and so forth, but don’t tell Melodia.

Since we moved to Buffalo, we’ve spent every Thanksgiving with our friends Adam and Danelle Padd.  I don’t know quite how that became our tradition.  An invite that first year, led to a second, and so forth, I suppose.  This year, for a change, rather than going to their place, they’re coming to ours.  Melodia and I have the Wii ready to go, as well as some board games, and both of the girls have been prepping some stuff – the turkey and apple pie on our end, and pecan pie on the Padd’s.

Our Thanksgivings really have been a blessing. Getting to spend time with friends, and these friends in particular has always been wonderful.

It’s interesting to look at our friendships and assess them.  Our friendship with Danelle and Adam is one in which we have very few expectations of each other.  What I mean is… when we’re setting something up, trying to work out a plan, etc… if it comes together, great. If it doesn’t, no worries.  It’s the type of friendship that isn’t highly demanding, and yet, it’s always ready for use.  On a moment’s notice, we’ll go to their place and spend the night, or they’ll come to ours.  And the hosting party never makes it out to be an inconvenience.

Recently, we had one of those situations where we were without power and decided to see if we could impose on some friends who still had power.  A few of our friends were busy or had plans that didn’t really allow the powerless Wilson’s to impose on.  As we sat in the dark of our silent house talking about it, we were thankful for our friendship with the Padd’s.  Immediately, we looked at each other and said, if we’d called the Padd’s, they’d have said, “come on over.”  In fact, even if they weren’t home, they’d have said, “use the house.”

Now, Adam and Danelle live 1.5 hours south of us, so it is not always convenient.  But it sure is helpful to have that type of friendship that allows for so much grace without the expectation of return or a counting of who’s done what and when.  Certainly, the Padd’s are way beyond us in hosting visits.  They live in the country, and our eagerness to spend some time in the country is often greater than theirs to spend time in the city… though the pool at our last apartment tempted them a few times.

We enjoy the opportunities to host them, and tomorrow will be nice that way.  I guess, I’m just thinking about friendships, and realizing that some are hard to replace.  It’s hard to quantify exactly what makes ours with the Padd’s fun.  We’ll go months without seeing each other, but we’ve often spent several weekends in a row together.  We’ll plan in advance, and we’ll plan last minute. Sometimes, we just go to their place and hang out, other times to help with some work, like making Venison meatballs! Yummo.

Maybe what I’m trying to place my finger on is that it’s nice to have friends who don’t ever give you the feeling that you’re imposing, and who are very inclusive in their approach to life.  After all, isn’t that the way it should be?  Aren’t we all supposed to be opening our arms and waving others to come on in?  I think so.

Tomorrow, the Padd’s will, once again, come on in – and I’m looking forward to it. Happy Thanksgiving to you, wherever you are, and to your friends, whose inclusion of you make life more wonderful.

It’s one of those photos that you’re looking at, looking… then… it hits you.  Aha!  What in the world?!

Well, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo of the kids in [...]]]> Recently, a friend sent me a link to this website that had funny family photos on it.  One in particular was really silly.

It’s one of those photos that you’re looking at, looking… then… it hits you.  Aha!  What in the world?!

Well, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo of the kids in the backseat of Jeep after we loaded up to head home from church. In looking at it, I was reminded of that other photo.  It turned out to be one of those, “wait for it… aha!” kind of photos – thanks to one of my kids.

I haven’t posted this photo on that other site I mentioned previously.  But I thought I’d post it hear for kicks.  It’s currently the background photo on my phone because 1) it has all the kids and 2) it’s so silly.  Enjoy!

It’s been good to have her here. Unfortunately, I’ve been sick for what feels like the whole [...]]]> Lala’s been in town the past two weeks. That’s Melodia’s mother, Maria. The kids have called her Lala since they were little. Abuela (grandmother in Spanish) became La became Lala. And Grandpa Torres became Lalo.

It’s been good to have her here. Unfortunately, I’ve been sick for what feels like the whole time. Sick now, too, and in need of bed. But I keep looking at the website wishing I blogged more. Then by the time I think to do it, I just jot down the surface stuff of life. But, I figure that’s better than nothing.

We’re down to the last 3 days of Lala’s visit, which is a bummer. We all love having her around. But I know her own hubby needs her back, too. Still, her presence reminds me of how challenging it is to live in a place without family.

I’ve been reminded all week that I haven’t seen my own parents in person in two years. How did that happen? Where did the time go? I mean, that’s just crazy. And they haven’t seen Izzabelle in person yet, either. And she’s past 1. Seems it’s always cheaper to go to Tampa than out to Vegas (and drive down to Kingman, Az), cheaper to see the Torres side than the Wilson side. But I have to figure out a way to see them soon. The kids need to see them. It’s just been too long.

And we’ve just finished concluding that we cannot go anywhere for the Holidays. The budget’s a little tight and we need to stay put, resist the temptation to spend. I keep hoping my parents will find the time to come our direction, because their two tickets are cheaper than our four tickets to head out there.

But nothing’s easy. Mom’s working full-time these days, and it’s harder for them to cut out than it used to be. So here we are, two years later. But with Lala in town, I’ve been feeling it, and missing mom and dad. And I’m missing them for my kids, too. Wil can still remember sitting on dad’s backhoe last time he was out to Arizona. He brings that up whenever we talk about Grandpa and Grandma Wilson. But I need him to have some fresher memories. So I’ve got to work this one out.

At any rate, I’m just reminded tonight of how important family is, but not just our own immediate wife and kids, but our moms and dads. I continue to believe that one can never truly appreciate their own parents until they have kids of their own. I’m constantly amazed, when holding one of my little ones, to think that the way I feel, is the way my mom and dad felt about me. That they were where I am. Fascinating to me.

And I can appreciate all the more what it took, and what it still takes (when they get older and move on). I can’t imagine Wil, McKinley, and Izzabelle being older, going to college, getting married, having kids… I can’t imagine Melodia and I in a quiet house, the kids all moved on. It just seems so far. And yet I’m reminded all the time by those around me… time flies, it’ll be gone before you know it, enjoy it while you have it.

So tonight, I held McKinley just a little bit longer when I hugged her before bed. I looked into her big green eyes as she said, “I love you, Papi,” and I wished it all wouldn’t go by so fast. Wished that time would slow. That my little girl would stay little, small enough for me to scoop up and hold tight. And I didn’t want to think about those days when she wouldn’t be that small anymore.

I guess I should say, Robert Toland was [...]]]> A good man passed away on Friday at 3:15pm.  I don’t really know how to write much past this sentence.  But on the drive home tonight from a school activity, I just kept thinking that I needed to sit down and write a bit.

I guess I should say, Robert Toland was a believer, a man of God, as I should lead with the hope in this story.  The hope that means that death is not the end, but the beginning… that death is a homecoming, not a farewell.  That Robert has gone on to stand with that great cloud of witnesses, that he now sees a sight for which many of us long.

Robert was a member of Crossroads Christian Church, the church we are also members of.  We arrived at Crossroads just over a year ago, after Robert had already stopped regular attendance.  Robert was diagnosed with colon cancer toward the end of 2007. It was a late diagnosis, and the disease had already metastasized. The doctors told him it was terminal.

See, the thing is, Robert Toland was only 30 when he learned this. He and his wife, Melanie, have three little girls: Morgan (2), Skyler (3), and Lilia (5). I didn’t know Robert personally. I only met him on a couple of occasions, and heard him share his journey, and his challenge.  But from the moment I learned of his story, I dreaded this day.

Our church and a number of other organizations and individuals rallied around Robert. Last year, everyone got together to produce an extreme home makeover.  You won’t see it on ABC, and Ty Pennington didn’t show up, but you can watch it here.  They rebuilt the Toland’s house so that Robert could stay home as things got worse, and his mobility became limited, as he approached the end.

Robert and his family have been on my mind and in my prayers all summer.  The home we almost purchased (the one that fell through this summer), it was less than a mile from the Toland’s house.

I have to admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve prayed so hard over one family, one man.  And I awoke Saturday morning feeling a little depressed and disheartened, because, well, quite frankly, I wanted the miracle.

I have 3 little kids.  I am in my 30s. I have a wife I adore.  I have it all.  So what if it was all about to end? Robert’s having to face all that hasn’t been far from my brain the last few months.  A year ago, I almost lost Melodia.  I spent a night facing the thought of being alone, with 2 (or if Izzabelle made it, 3) kids. I wondered how I’d do it without her.  And I really didn’t want to.  Melodia came through it, and Izzabelle, too. But that process reshaped our hearts a bit. It stirred a bunch of things up; it made me re-think death’s reality. It made me a bit fearful.

In March, just 6 months past the trauma with Melodia and Izzabelle, 6 people, all in their 30s, that were either friends of mine, or friends of my friends, passed away. That, too, made me a bit fearful.

It’s funny (odd) the stories we hold on to.  I mean, the older we get, the more we encounter death, the more real it becomes, or the more it becomes our reality, no longer untouchable, unimaginable, unattainable… it becomes more tangible,more common place, more frequent. Just after I graduated college, my favorite professor, Larry Finger, was diagnosed with cancer. I met with him, and we chatted for a bit about it, and how it was going.  He told me that he’d prayed when his kids were little, “Lord, let me live long enough to see them graduate college.”  His daughter had just recently graduated. He said to me, “I got what I asked for.  I’ve much to be thankful for.”  Larry Finger passed away less than a year after that conversation. I couldn’t do much that day, the day he died.

Today I busied myself with cleaning the house.  Melodia was out for some “me” time.  Izzabelle was napping, and Wil and McKinley were playing in the front yard with the neighbor kids. I just need something to do. I’ve been adding some worship and Christian music dvds to our collection. Just recently I added an old (recorded  circa 1995, out on dvd 2002) Ray Boltz concert dvd – The Concert of  a Lifetime. I popped that in to the dvd and had it playing while I cleaned.

I used to often say that much of my theology could be found in songs.  A few artists have shaped my view of God and the Kingdom… Russ Taff, Rich Mullins, and Geoff Moore and the Distance probably had the greatest influence, but many other artists contributed a song or two to the cause of my theology.  Ray Boltz has a couple, but the one that I wanted to hear, as I thought about Robert Toland was “Heaven is Counting on You.”  Part of that song says,

“Many suffered friends even gave their lives
For the message of our Lord Jesus Christ
Now they’re watching they’re seated high up above
Shouting to us as we run

There is a race
There is a prize
There is a price to pay
And the saints beyond
Are cheering us on today”

The theology I’ve long held (or have wanted to hold, wanted to believe) is that those who’ve gone on before us, are indeed watching us, they’re watching us, and they’re cheering us on as we run this race.

I remember when Rich Mullins died, I thought to myself, “Rich Mullins knows now. He knows what he’s always believed is indeed true.”  He knows there’s a God, because he’s standing before Him; he’s with Him.  And the very next thought that came to me was, “He knew then. Rich Mullins knew then, before he ever left this earth.”  Neither death, nor Heaven, nor the sight of God changed what he knew… he always knew. One of Rich’s songs featured the line, “I’ll keep rockin’ until it’s my time to roll.” I loved that wordplay.

So I busied myself around the house, and I prayed. I prayed for Melanie and the kids.

This is one of those things that challenges my faith. Oh, I know, it shouldn’t.  It should be pure rejoicing, a saint gone home… rejoice.  But it isn’t. Perhaps I’m too attached to this world. Or maybe it’s that such a view seems a little too selfish (i.e., what about the people left behind? – I’m outta here, so rejoice). It’s likely some combination of those thoughts.  This challenges my faith.

I think about a wife watching her husband die.  I think about her alone.  I think about kids who can’t understand death, wondering where Papi is. I think about them growing up without him. I think about the four of them questioning God’s ability in all of this… His ability to perform the miracle vs. His hands-off, let it happen. I think about things that challenge my faith, and about things that make me a bit fearful.  And I pray that losing him will not become a stumbling block to their own walk with Jesus, to their faith, to the reunion that awaits.

But I am sad today.  And it’s ok if people say of me, “that seems pretty faithless.” For months now, Robert Toland has lived out on my biggest fears; and it has deeply saddened me that anyone would have to do that.  Some things are just hard – no, they’re impossible – to understand in the Kingdom. Some things, I just can’t think on for too long, or they threaten to break me.

The Toland’s kept a journal on the Caring Bridge website. I read with sadness, Melanie’s words on Friday about Robert’s death.

“Robert passed away today around 3:15pm.  Yesterday, Pastor Pat was visiting Robert and asked him if he was ready to meet the good lord.  Robert answered, “Tomorrow”.

Maybe he knew somehow.

Today, while Denise, Chris, and I (his parents) were sitting with him, he said “I’m ready to say good-bye now”. Then he looked at each of us, and said good-bye individually.  He told Denise and I ”please don’t say anything”.  We weren’t really sure what to think about that comment, but looking back I think he just wanted to die peacefully (without a crowd watching) or maybe he didn’t want us to try to talk him out of it.  I did make sure that I told him that the girls and I will be okay, that I will raise them godly women, and we have support around us to get us through.”

How do I read that without tears and extreme sadness? How do I rejoice?  I know some Christians who are so ready to be rid of this world.  I’m not one of them.  Despite the sin, despite Satan, despite the divergence from the original design, there’s so much beauty here, such great wonder, and there’s friends… and family… spouses… and children.

No, I’d like a long time with all of them.  At the cost of putting off Heaven for many years?  Yes, I think even at that cost.  Oh to be sure, I don’t want to miss out on Heaven.  No way. But our worldly knowledge doesn’t quite provide us more than hazy, blurred, black and white image of Heaven.  Will we know each other or not?  Will we notice who’s there and who isn’t?  Will they’re be any memory of our time on Earth?

Such theological questions probably shouldn’t be of concern to the Heaven-bound, committed follower, but they are things I wonder.  And I think, they’re the the unanswered things that make me wish to stay here for a while longer.

But even beyond my theology is this one simple fact. I’m a dad. When I wasn’t a dad, I didn’t get it. No one who isn’t a dad can.  I’m sure of that. Becoming a dad is much like becoming a Christian. A new world opens up. One sees things as never before.  It is indeed a rebirth of sorts.  As a dad, my worldview is different than it once was. I look at much of what I see through my children and their experiences. At times, I get on my knees to pray for them.  Other times, I get on my knees so I can see the world as they do.

Seriously, we forget, being older and taller, just how much they can’t see (like what’s on top of that table, or on the third shelf up, etc.).  I pay attention to the things that make them smile, and to those that make them cry.  And my heart hurts for them when they hurt; and I both despair and burn with deep anger when it seems like they’re being marginalized, ignored, mistreated, or otherwise dealt with by someone else.

And I guess, herein, you see the selfishness of my post tonight (or, at 1:30am, I should say, this morning). Because this isn’t an “in memoriam” of Robert Toland so much as it is my reflection on just how much it stinks to have Robert’s family lose him, to have his kids lose him, and on just how much I fear this for anyone else, including myself.

Robert’s death reminds me of so many things that are wrong with the world, and of the few that are right with it (like his wife, his kids, his friends). I didn’t want him to punch out.  I wanted the miracle.  For him, for his wife, for his kids, for all of us. And yes, for my kids.

From all I know, Robert was a good man, a beloved husband, a loved daddy, and he’s gone. I suffered through over a week of Michael Jackson memorials, memoriams, and media coverage.  And yet, this is the lone printing – the extent of the coverage – of Robert Toland’s passing (as recorded in the Buffalo News):

Death Notice:

TOLAND – SSG Robert A. III nd7-9PMa
TOLAND – Ssg Robert A. Iii, U.s. Army October 2, 2009 of Sheldon, NY; beloved husband of Melanie Szubski Toland; dearest father of Lilia, Skyler and Morgan; loving son of Denise (Chris) Siracuse and Bob Jr. (Lisa) Toland; brother of Eric Toland, Charlotte and Anthony Siracuse, Mitchell, Amanda and Crystal Toland; grandson of Editha Germain and Sara Olson; also survived by many aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and one nephew. Friends may call Tuesday 2-4 and 7-9 PM at the WOOD FUNERAL HOME, 784 Main Street, East Aurora. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday at 10 AM at the Crossroads Christian Church, 1050 Girdle Rd., Elma, NY (please assemble at church). Interment in St. Cecilia’s Cemetery, Sheldon, NY. Robert was assigned to the U.S. Army Warrior Transition Unit, West Point, NY. Donations to the Christian Youth Corps, 9579 Main St., Machias, NY 14101. Donations and sentiments can be made at www.caringbridge.org.

This, to me, is one of the great ironies of this world, one of the “wrong” things.

And I know I’m going to be sad for yet a while longer. Maybe, until I’ve no time left on this rock… like the sadness I have when I think of Larry Finger. My heart breaks at the thought of the days (and nights) that yet face Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan. It just isn’t right that it should be so.  How do we reconcile it?  I don’t know.  But I do know that tonight, I prayed for God to cheat.

I know we have free will (well, according to a good chunk of theology). And I know that, people choose their own path, they can choose to believe or to ignore it all. They can choose God or no God.  Faith or no faith.  Believe Jesus was more than just a carpenter or believe it isn’t so.  People choose.  But tonight I prayed for God to cheat.  I prayed for him to “tip the scales” – for the Toland family.  I prayed that He’d make it impossible for them to doubt, disbelieve or walk away. That He’d stand someone at every choice that threatened a path of disbelief. I prayed that He would tip the scales so that they would have their reunion with their husband and daddy. And I prayed that such a prayer wouldn’t disqualify me from the Kingdom, and wouldn’t dishonor God – but that He would see fit to use this as an opportunity to demonstrate His great mercy.

I pray more and more these days for Mercy and Grace. I pray often that the story of the thief on the cross (Luke 23:43) is not merely about the timing of salvation as it is about Grace and Mercy.  I pray often that God’s Grace and Mercy outweighs His wrath. And as I think about the Toland family (and for others with stories like theirs), I pray that He makes it impossible for Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan to walk away, fall away, or otherwise miss the Kingdom as they make and live out their choices on this rock. And I pray for a complete renuion for them, in the Kingdom.

Lord, tuck those kids in every night since their daddy is no longer able to – Lord, hug them, hold them, and do this for Melanie, too. Thwart any attempt by the Evil One or by anyone to cause them to stray, to doubt You, to doubt Your love, or to doubt Robert or his.  Let them always remember his love, and Your love.  Be over them as a cloud, and move where they move… until finally, they, too, are taken up to be with You. And I pray that Melanie’s final words to her husband, “I did make sure that I told him that the girls and I will be okay, that I will raise them godly women, and we have support around us to get us through.” – will be realized in full.  Make it so, Lord, make it so.

And for those of you reading this, I pray you will join me in praying for Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan. Pray also for me and for the Wilsons, that we would live our love and arrive at the same Grace and Mercy.