matters of quirkiness & faith

My father died in 1995. He was 48, a mere 9 years older than I am right now. (Don't worry this is not a downer post, though I do have a mild fascination with death. ;) So I woke up at midnight last night after a short time of sleep and though I so wanted to sleep, my mind took over. And I was thinking about some nonsensical interjection I said in someone's office the previous afternoon. I can't recall what I said, but whatever it was there was a tiny logistic connective tendril. Tiny. I call it controlled ADD. Is that offensive to anyone? Unintended if so. I define someone with that condition as: when in conversation, he or she makes loose to very loose connections to whatever is being discussed, sometimes in song. But most always, eventually gets back to the original topic, albeit circuitously but usually humorously, at least for the loose connection maker.

The particular instance I was thinking of didn't amuse anyone but me so I returned to the original topic. Selfishly, often times, I am not thinking that my odd rambling, lyric embedding, or word inserting will entertain anyone but me. (I used to do it when I taught college comp courses all the time. I definitely needed to self-entertain during class.) So all this to say that at midnight I remembered that my father used to come out with things that made no sense in the conversation. Or at times, no one was saying a word and he'd say something that had no connection to anything recently said. I used to think, "how odd you are!" And so for the first time, last night, I realized where my little oddity comes from, at least one oddity anyway. And it made me laugh because what annoyed me in him is in me and I actually enjoy it! I thought that was great.

An even bigger thing used to annoy me: his faith. One thing I did know was: he was different. Watching my father die of cancer over the course of a month with such a peace, such an unwavering faith in G-d, is what caused me to really see what the heck was so different about him. And then after he died I began exploring what he was talking about: I tried to read the Bible and I remembered things he'd try to tell me about his faith, always beaming as he shared whatever it was. And then later I remembered that when he'd get home from work each night, often after 14 hours, he'd kneel in a spare room and pray. He'd close the door but I could see him through the small opening. I wouldn't be really looking; I would just catch a glimpse of him as I passed by. Obviously I made an unconscious mental note because at the time, I didn't think much of it. Until he was gone...I know cliche...but sadly some cliches are just that, sad, and sad that we persist in living them out...

So to make a slightly longer story wind down, watching his faith in action at such a difficult time and then remembering all these details that I unknowingly stored away, led me to find the peace, joy, and love that only G-d can offer us. (If that sounds cliche, so be it, at least it led to a good result.) All that's pretty big.

And now I've discovered this little thing too. Discoveries are good. So look around to the people that you've known for years or even a week and thank G-d for how He has used them to shape you in matters of faith and quirkiness. Oh and be aware: sometimes the shaping process doesn't always feel good, but it's the end result that matters.

A cool side note: I've since realized that during a lot of that kneeling, he was praying for me. You never really know who is praying for you. And you may be very surprised if you found out.