Two words said often – and not often enough

President George Washington dedicated a day in November as a “Day of Thanksgiving to God” in remembrance of the Pilgrims’ special meal following their first successful harvest in 1621. The Pilgrims invited the neighboring Native Americans to the banquet as a thank you for their help with planting and harvesting. I think the Pilgrims really were thanking the Indians for not carving the Pilgrims themselves for dinner.

What seriously is going through my mind on this Thanksgiving is how grateful I am to God. I thank Him for the blessings He has bestowed on me – the ones I am aware of and especially all the blessings I have no clue He’s given me.

Each night, I thank Him for Nikolas; my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins; my ancestors now residing in our Lord’s heavenly kingdom; the people who at one time were very special to me but are no longer with me daily, along with their children, parents and families; the men and women who have thought of me, helped me, hugged me, made me laugh, and prayed for me along the way, and still do; the people who have given their lives or are risking their lives so I can live peacefully and comfortably; and the critters who welcome me at the door, purr in my ear while I’m sleeping and leave their fur on my clothes.

I especially thank the Lord for the woman making antler horns behind my head in the picture above. That is my significant-other, my partner, my roommate, my “main squeeze”, my soul mate and my best friend Amy Morales.

In 2005 when situations made me question what I should do and where I should be, the Lord told me very plainly “Scott, I need you in Arizona.” I felt He needed me to minister to someone or lead someone who was lost to Him. I didn’t know who or how.

Two years later, a woman in my Bible study group asked me to join her for lunch after church. Amy and I go to a church that is 99.975 percent populated by people age 70 and above. Amy and I are St. Luke’s Episcopal Church’s Generation X.

Amy’s husband, Joe, died suddenly a little more than a week before I got the job offer that pulled to me out of Indiana. “Ah ha! That’s why the Lord wants me in Arizona – to be a friend to Amy as she enters a new chapter in her life,” I thought.

Not so fast, my friend!

My professional relationships with the people I worked with and for severely broke down in 2008 and we unceremoniously parted ways in 2009. Between July 2005 and February 2009, my nine-year marriage and my 20-year career came to shattering ends.

And Amy was there to catch me.

The Lord is my eternal savior. The woman making fun behind me in that picture is my savior on Earth. What Amy has done for me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually I will never be able to repay.

I take more from her than I give. I do not deserve her, and yet she loves me.

Thank You, Lord.

Thank You, Sweet.

The reason for that bruise on my forehead

Remember those V8 television commercials?

Sometimes it was a female giving an open-handed slap to the forehead of her dim-witted male companion, or it was the mentally dense male slapping himself, followed by the slogan “You could have had a V8!”

A couple of years ago, I had my own “V8 moment.”

When Nikolas was in Arizona in 2008, my mother - aka Yia Yia (pronounced YEI yah), the Greek word for Grandmother - took him to a candle shop so he could make his own candle. In reality, all Nikolas did was choose from a group of preformed candles and dip his selection into pots of colored wax. So Nikolas picked candles for each of his grandmothers, one for his mother and one for his father.

For me, Nikolas chose a pair of penguins which he dipped the bottom half in blue wax and the top half in red wax. When the colors dried, they looked more deep purple and light pink.

When Nikolas gave me my gift, I excitedly thanked him, kissed and hugged him, and told him “I love it!” In all honesty, my first thought was, “Oh boy! Pink and purple penguins. Whoopee.”

After Nikolas went back to Indiana, I put that candle on a shelf in a back room and closed the door. Two months later, I went back to that room to look for something else I was keeping out of sight and it dawned on me what that candle represented.

The smaller penguin is standing at the side and slightly under the left wing of the larger penguin. The smaller penguin has its head up and a facial expression that shows comfort and safety.

The larger penguin, as I said, has its left wing on the back of the smaller penguin. Its head is tilted slightly down and toward the smaller penguin in a manner showing love and protection.

Why didn’t I see what Nikolas was telling me through this particular candle? I quickly figured out that the purple and pink was supposed to be blue and red – our favorite colors respectively. What I didn’t see was a little boy in his most special place – under the wing of his father.

I pray that my “V8-like” slap to my forehead will open my eyes to all the subtle ways Nikolas tells me that I am special to him.

Daddy’s Home is not Mommy’s Home

“What’s my destiny, Mama?”

Forrest Gump knew the answer because it was in the script. Only the Lord knows how my script ends, but I will strive to have future generations say “Despite the obstacles, he was the Best Dad Ever.”

My son, Nikolas, lives in central Indiana and me in northern Arizona. I moved here in July 2005 to take a new job. The plan between Nick’s mom and me – discussed and formulated before I accepted the job offer – was for me to get stabilized and then have Nick and his mom join me. Two weeks after I got here, Nick’s mom destroyed that plan.

“I’ve changed my mind. We’re not moving. If this family is more important than your job, then you’ll move back to Indiana and find something to do here.”

I had just spent four months scouring central Indiana for a job and was rejected. I couldn’t get Target to hire me when it had a huge sign on the front door that said “Now Hiring.” I didn’t see the logic in giving up a management-level position in the field I was educated and experienced in for a cashier’s job at the corner convenience store.

Nick now has two homes – his primary home in Indiana and his vacation home in Arizona. I will not let Nick forget he has a father who loves him. I call him every two or three days; I send him notes and occasional gifts; and I never, ever, EVER miss my visitation time.

It’s no secret that I ache over this arrangement, but I refuse to let it defeat me. It could be worse.

A New Trick for This Old Dog

I'm either a cranky old man who wants to rant and rave before he dies, or I'm a cranky old man who wants to rant and rave before he dies and is desperately trying to cling to his youth. 

Hence this blog-thing.

Unlike my maternal great-grandmother, I've never been a journal writer. But in January 2010, I began digging into my ancestry. It didn't take long before I realized I knew nothing about these people other than dates and info - born this date, married this person, bore these children, did this job, died this date. And by the way, here's a picture of his or her tombstone. 
An entire life reduced to statistics and a rock. 
Why did my ancestors come to the United States? Why did they live where they lived? Why did they do the jobs that they did? What made them laugh, sing, dance, or cry? Who made them angry and who made them happy?
Those unanswered questions are exemplified by my paternal grandfather. He rarely talked about his past. All my father his siblings know is my grandfather's parents broke him out of a Turkish army jail and shipped him to America at the age of 16 so my grandfather would not be forced to fight against his Greek countrymen. I remember when I was 16 and I can't imagine moving to a country halfway around the world that speaks a language I don't know and survive. How did my grandfather do it? We don't know, because he didn't say. My grandfather died more than 30 years ago and now he's in the ground and under a stone. 
I don't want my great-grandchildren to think of me as dates, names and a tombstone. That's not all I am, but if I don't put my thoughts and feelings and desires and past down on paper - or a computer blog - that is what I will become. 
So lets give this a shot. Perhaps I'll learn something today and those that follow me will learn a lot in their day.