Melancholy
So Christmas is close. So close, in fact, that I put up my tree yesterday during the afternoon. Then last night, I decorated it.
That's sorta where I fell apart.
See, last year, due to a rather large pile of personal and professional turmoil (mostly professional, or unprofessional, depending on whom you ask), I did not put up a tree or any decorations. (I'm 90% sure of this -- I thought I had for a while, but now I don't think I did.)
At any rate, I got out all my Christmas decorations last night, and promptly became rather melancholy. You see, two years ago, when I decorated, it was a youth group event, and all the decorations were signed by the members of the Forest Home teen and college groups. It made me smile seeing their names, and then it made me sad, thinking of how much things have changed in two years.
Now change is inevitable (except from vending machines). I know this. And I love where I am, and I love my teens here in California. I'm having dinner with a couple of them tonight, and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm enjoying getting to know them and learning their personalities and their strengths and their quirks. It's fun.
But at the same time, it makes me realize how life is structured without a "back" button.
Did you ever play Super Mario Brothers on the original Nintendo? I loved that game. Some levels were structured so that you could go all the way back to the beginning to pick up coins or bust bricks that yo'd missed.
But other levels ... moved on their own! That's right ... accompanied by a plinky piano tune that was faster than the rest of the music in the game, the screen would shift on its own, and so you had to move at a certain pace. Whatever you missed, you missed for good. No going back.
Life is like that. No going back.
I'll admit, sometimes I'm at the far right edge of the screen, leaping into the unknown, wishing the thing would just move along faster.
But as often, I'm dragging behind, wishing I could go back and say what I meant, or do what I didn't do, or embrace that one that I didn't know I would see for a while.
That wasn't exactly my point when I started writing this, but I like that.
Anyway, my point at the beginning was I have this dream of gathering together all the people who are the most important to me, who have shared good times and bad times with me, all the way from my earliest memories up until today. You'd be surprised who's on that list. Many of you reading this are certainly on that list.
So I've decided ... when I get married, it will be a full weekend event. I'm thinking perhaps my wedding will be on a Sunday afternoon, right after church. And I'll reserve a whole hotel for two nights and invite everyone to come in to town on Friday evening, and Saturday will be a huge day-long reunion, where I get to see all the people I've grown to love so much, family and friends, and I'll get to meet all the people that are important to my beautiful fiancee. Then we'll all go to church together Sunday morning, have lunch, and then my lovely bride and I will get hitched.
Sound fun? Great! 'Cause you're invited. Yep ... you!
Bring old pictures and videos if ya got 'em. Or a deck of cards. (I'll bring the SkipBo.)
That's sorta where I fell apart.
See, last year, due to a rather large pile of personal and professional turmoil (mostly professional, or unprofessional, depending on whom you ask), I did not put up a tree or any decorations. (I'm 90% sure of this -- I thought I had for a while, but now I don't think I did.)
At any rate, I got out all my Christmas decorations last night, and promptly became rather melancholy. You see, two years ago, when I decorated, it was a youth group event, and all the decorations were signed by the members of the Forest Home teen and college groups. It made me smile seeing their names, and then it made me sad, thinking of how much things have changed in two years.
Now change is inevitable (except from vending machines). I know this. And I love where I am, and I love my teens here in California. I'm having dinner with a couple of them tonight, and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm enjoying getting to know them and learning their personalities and their strengths and their quirks. It's fun.
But at the same time, it makes me realize how life is structured without a "back" button.
Did you ever play Super Mario Brothers on the original Nintendo? I loved that game. Some levels were structured so that you could go all the way back to the beginning to pick up coins or bust bricks that yo'd missed.
But other levels ... moved on their own! That's right ... accompanied by a plinky piano tune that was faster than the rest of the music in the game, the screen would shift on its own, and so you had to move at a certain pace. Whatever you missed, you missed for good. No going back.
Life is like that. No going back.
I'll admit, sometimes I'm at the far right edge of the screen, leaping into the unknown, wishing the thing would just move along faster.
But as often, I'm dragging behind, wishing I could go back and say what I meant, or do what I didn't do, or embrace that one that I didn't know I would see for a while.
That wasn't exactly my point when I started writing this, but I like that.
Anyway, my point at the beginning was I have this dream of gathering together all the people who are the most important to me, who have shared good times and bad times with me, all the way from my earliest memories up until today. You'd be surprised who's on that list. Many of you reading this are certainly on that list.
So I've decided ... when I get married, it will be a full weekend event. I'm thinking perhaps my wedding will be on a Sunday afternoon, right after church. And I'll reserve a whole hotel for two nights and invite everyone to come in to town on Friday evening, and Saturday will be a huge day-long reunion, where I get to see all the people I've grown to love so much, family and friends, and I'll get to meet all the people that are important to my beautiful fiancee. Then we'll all go to church together Sunday morning, have lunch, and then my lovely bride and I will get hitched.
Sound fun? Great! 'Cause you're invited. Yep ... you!
Bring old pictures and videos if ya got 'em. Or a deck of cards. (I'll bring the SkipBo.)