Why advisors get grey hair

Here's at least one reason why...

For the record, while I was down in the fellowship hall of the Masonic Temple taking tickets for our group's spaghetti supper, two of my young charges (who had said they were going out to walk the streets of the town promoting the meal) were, in fact, hanging their feet off the fourth-story roof of the building, holding up their sign for the crowds gathered for the parade to see. (The shot was captured by a photographer for the town newspaper.)

I never heard about it, of course - until the fellow on the right (a normally sane and rational young man) emailed me with a "see the cool picture in our local paper?" note.

Of course, I'm fifty - so my first thought was, Oh, my God - what if they fell? What if that 100-year-old mortar let loose, and dumped their brains onto the sidewalk? How the hell did they get up there, in the first place? How the hell does this happen? I'll kick their teenaged butts right into orbit!! Thoughts of funerals, police inquiries, and insurance adjusters raced through my head.

Then I thought, almost in the same instant, This is the stuff that memories are made of. Being crazy. Being wild. Taking risks. It's about being 15 and bulletproof. Just like you were. Relax. And I was reminded of a guy who regularly does things like parasailing and jumping out of airplanes that are still running, who said, "I'd much rather have a short and amazing life, than get to the end of my life and realize that I'd never actually lived."

So when I see them on Thursday, I will tell them that it was a nice photograph.

And that if they do it again, they won't have to worry about the fall killing them, because I will, first.

/sigh/

I am becoming my father and mother.

When you fall off that swing and break your arms and legs, don't come running to me. (Erma Bombeck's mother, to her as a child)

Signposts on the way to God

How do we know about God's love, God's generosity, God's kindness, God's forgiveness? Through our parents, our friends, our teachers, our pastors, our spouses, our children ... they all reveal God to us. But as we come to know them, we realise that each of them can reveal only a little bit of God. God's love is greater than theirs; God's goodness is greater than theirs; God's beauty is greater than theirs.

At first we may be disappointed in these people in our lives. For a while we thought that they would be able to give us all the love, goodness, and beauty we needed. But gradually we discover that they were all signposts on the way to God.
(Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, May 4th)

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I would rather have my teeth cleaned than go camping. It's just the way I am. My idea of roughing it is a Motel 6. I am not impressed with bugs, dirty, creepy-crawlies, or anything else about it. I love star-gazing - preferably followed by coffee and a croissant at Starbucks or Caribou or somesuch. I'm generally up for bonfires, s'mores and such - but otherwise, ugh.

I am going camping overnight next Friday and Saturday.

I had suggested to the young men of my DeMolay chapter that I would be willing to come down to Van Wert on Saturday, and help them set up a combination work/fun activity, go swimming, cook out, that sort of thing. Somehow, one guy said, "This guy has a pond in his back-40," and another said, "Are there fish? Can we go fishing?" "YEAH! Fishing!" "I've got a tent!" "Tents are for sissies!"

And so on. So I will be under the stars on Friday night, unless it rains. Then we will be elsewhere, I suppose. That's the advisor's job - to help the young men plan the contingencies, make the lists, so that the group has a good time. Equal parts mentor and border-collie, nipping at heels.

Why am I doing this? Why would any even-fractionally-sane 50-year-old outdoors-averse individual do something as stupid as forsake his warm bed for a cold field a hundred miles from home?

Because, of course...that is what a group of men did for me.

Overnighters, trips to various chapters, late night pizza, anguished phone calls in the middle of the night - my DeMolay advisors took them all from me. And over the years, the young men I advised became advisors themselves. And the good ones - the ones who saw and heard the message - did exactly the same thing.

So I will go to Van Wert, sleeping bag in hand. And I will pray, as I always do, that I will be an instrument of peace, of inspiration, and brotherhood - and not (as many advisors end up) just a blunt instrument of discipline and rules. The phrase out of our ceremonies came first from the Gospel: Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.

Amen.