A-Paul-Ing

I’m not normally one to understand the moment, but I did that day this past January.  Came out of my office and saw Paul in the next room working on organizing topical files for me: I’d asked him for that.  Anyway, I saw him bent over his task and thought, this is a gift.  

After two years in university he’d run out of money and, not willing to go into debt, had to sit out a semester.  It’d be his first extended time at home for a year and a half.  Obviously, leaving his friends and losing educational momentum wasn’t appealing to Paul…maybe the fact that his exile would be served at home made matters worse.  But as I said, from the beginning at least I considered his sojourn with us a great blessing.

Partly because in some ways I had lost track of Paul.  The past four years had been chaotic for our family, and in the middle of all that Paul had slipped off into adulthood.  I hardly noticed.  Shoot, his high school graduation testimony occurred the same day as my farewell sermon to the Newton church.  Who cares about your reflections, Paul – we’re moving?!  

Paul the afterthought. 

Sorry, Paul.  Likely I bear some culpability for not allowing the spotlight to linger on him.  Though also – and this is where I’m going – I think I’ve observed some providential design in his relative obscurity.  Throughout his years Paul has been kept hidden.  God covering him up, I mean.  Through the instruments of physical sickness, physical slightness, living in the shadow of athletically accomplished older brothers, physical vexations seemingly tailored for his discomfiture – Paul has often been laid low, relegated.  Even – much more often than his siblings – sometimes humiliated.  

Reader, I don’t imply that Paul hasn’t chafed against this; that, for instance, he didn’t often try to raise his pipsqueak voice above his brothers’.  

Anyway, what was formed under God-designed obscurity?

For one, dark humor.  A couple of examples from this past year: 

Dad: Paul, did you discuss with your work what to do if it snows tomorrow?

Paul: Wut?

Dad: Some scheme, some plan in case of bad weather?

Paul: Did you want to know what the plan was or why are you asking?

Dad: {frustrated} I’m just trying to connect with my son.

Paul: Why didn’t you try that ten years ago?

And again:

{Driving from Cheyenne to Denver after Kai’s wedding, and passing a Johnson’s Corner billboard advertising their famous cinnamon rolls}

Dad: Did you see that Johnson’s Corner billboard?

Paul: No

Dad: Yeah, they’re famous for their cinnamon ro….

Paul, interrupting: Can you just quit talking to me?  

Writing those exchanges down, I admit Paul sounds horribly disrespectful.  But both times he was making a risky play for a laugh, and both times (especially the latter) he got a hearty one from me.  He understands my dark humor.    

Which brings me to another observation: perhaps due to his acquaintance with long frustration and a resultant fellow feeling, Paul knows how to connect with people, all kinds of people.  “From the executive to the doorman,” as the saying goes.  You want to be around Paul.  His friendships go deep.  As much as he’s a skilled conversationalist, he’s a better listener.  And then, he’s fun!  Witticisms constantly flow from him.  He’s idealistic AND based.  He’ll move from sports to boardgames to crooning on the piano to talking politics to…

The bonus is that when you meet him you’re normally un-wowed.  Seems pretty basic.

I don’t love any of my kids more than the other (as I’ve testified elsewhere), but for some mystery when Paul departs I’m left feeling especially dashed.  This past Sunday I didn’t want to gather with the Church because I knew I wouldn’t see him there.  “He’s got a way about him,” as Billy Joel would say.  

One more thing about Paul is his giftedness with words, spoken and written.  He’s a sensitive reader of texts: with all my years of professional experience reading Scripture and theology, he pushes me.  Likely he’s already outpaced me.  He’s a poem lover and creator.  And perhaps this is just father bias, but to my mind the sermons he’s given carry a depth of insight that belie his youth.  I’ll just say it: Paul has a unique gift as a preacher.  

Here’s what I want to say to him today; advice that doesn’t apply to everyone, certainly not every young man: 

• Paul, in His design God has kept you low…and look what’s come out of that!  You’re one stellar dude.  
• Don’t struggle to be heard or even understood…God will give you an audience in His time.  
• Do struggle to think clearly, as I know you already do.  E.B. White forever!
• You don’t, but be sure to never show off your talents; rather make it your aim to be interested by and enjoy and like and love the individual.    
• Think small, live small, buy local (ha!)…Let things come to you.  Given your background I suspect that God has something up His sleeve… there’s a burning bush in your future.  Don’t look for it; let it surprise you as you’re tending your sheep (fulfilling your duties).
• At the risk of appearing to have one thing in common with your old man, do remain open to God summoning you into vocational ministry of the Word.
• And, oh, Happy Birthday Son.