A note from
Rev. Rob Warren
Years ago, I could have a family reunion around a dinner table and pretty much have a space left over for Elijah. I used to wonder about my friends who had more siblings than I did. Not that my sister isn't awesome (she is) but we rarely gathered in groups above ten including grands and cousins. When we did that kind of thing, it was usually in a park, away from someone's home. Sunday dinners at so-and-sos weren't something my family did. My dad, much like me now, is pretty spent after worship (which is usually a sign that you were fully present and poured out). No, we were more the "turn on NASCAR and check for light leaks in the eyelids" house on a Sunday afternoon. My dad liked Awesome Bill (Elliot) from Dawsonville. Me? I liked the Bandit "Handsome" Harry Gant. But in reality, about five laps in, dad was asleep in his recliner and I was roaming the neighborhood on my trusty Huffy in search of enough good wood and a couple bricks to make a ramp. Hanging out with my friends, who had brothers, wondering how you could just show up at Geoff's house and his mom would just hand you food all day. Hitting the church parking lot for basketball - this was back when church parking lots were skate-parks, rec centers football fields (the end zone starts at the dogwood tree). Big groups, sometimes fighting, arguing, telling stories - my surrogate large family. We would usually end up back at the manse, in the basement, watching TV or listening to music.
Every now and then you'd come up with something special. Fill a pickup with sand from the river, another one with water, put them next to each other at the picnic shelter at Ritter Park and have a beach party. Or, we could put a bunch of people in an econo-box hatchback and hit the drive-in, or make a day-trip to Cincinnati (about 3 hours) to hit King's Island amusement park and grab LaRosa's Pizza (which wasn't the same in the restaurants outside the park). Who is going where, and what are we going to do when we get there? Even in my first office-based job, first task of a Monday was to figure out what day we were going to lunch as a sub-committee of the management team. Establishing a “work family” was important. Because at the house, because until recently, I could have a family reunion around a dinner table and have space left over for Elijah.
I moved call-to-call and friends came and went, and I moved further away. No more "lunch bunch" solving the world’s (or at least the company's) problems. When D and I moved in to an apartment, I bought a four-top bar-height table. Nothing says, "not expecting company" more than a four-top, except perhaps a bar overlooking the stoves, and I wanted one of those. My goal was to pretty much raise the boy to the point of the pseudo-independence that comes in your late teens, early twenties. Then I'd have this "huge" two-bedroom all to myself, and spend my days at work, and my evenings by the community pool at what should have been called the "Domiciles for the Recently Divorced." Most of the people there were single-parents, and let’s say my interests didn't necessarily line-up with the majority of people there. I met a few people that I talked to, but given that I don't have contact with any of them shows the depths of those relationships. It dawned on me that soon and very soon, I was going to be seated at a table with chairs open for Elijah, Elisha and the returning Christ (although I was pretty sure Christ would be too busy to make it).
Somewhere along the line, I forgot my prayers.
When I was eighteen, my dad gave me a choice. He would pay to move me to Los Angeles where I had a year to make it in the music industry (self-sufficient) and then I would move home and go to college working to pay my own way, or he'd pay for me to go to college. I'm pretty sure mom was not consulted on this particular offer. He told me later that I shocked him by saying I'd take college. I knew a couple of things: one, that I didn't have the talent to be a standout in Huntington, West Virginia, so the odds were incredibly against me. Two, that even I knew that if I took my inheritance and ran off to the foreign land, it wouldn't end up a tale of glorified reunion. No, I had a plan. I was going to 1) make money, 2) have a big family, 3) buy a big house on a lake and fill it with guitars, motorcycles and boats and 4) be famous in my field. I was going to live the lifestyles of the rich and the famous apart from the champagne and the caviar (I was more of a Coca-Cola and Chinese food kind of guy). But as the years went on, life got in the way.
I majored in Psychology, which is a great degree if you want to continue to go to school (which I did, eventually). I got a job selling product door-to-door, which is kind of like spending the day with your friends, if all your friends liked to tell you no and liked to pretend they aren't home when you stop by. At least I learned my favorite way to tie a tie, which is the only way I know how to tie a tie. I got to see some far-off places, like Greensboro, Siler City, and Yadkinville. I did think getting to go to Wilkesboro was cool though, since I got to see the NASCAR track. But that wasn't for me. I didn't know what was, but my goals of being the first millionaire in my family went by the wayside. I went back to school, moved to Louisville and forgot all about the 3 "things" I wanted to be happy.
This morning, sitting in my office trying to think of what to write for a newsletter article (I'm trying to shift to this being a 2nd devotional for the week), a picture of me with my grandson Greyson flashed on my screen and I remembered my prayers from a long time ago...
I live in what I would call a "large" house. Sure - it's yours, but still y'all let me live there. I'm notoriously cheap when it comes to house purchases; I've bought exactly two and both of them were considered 3 bedrooms. In this house there is an office, 3 bedrooms (one is a prayer-room guest bedroom), a formal dining room, a laundry room, wide hallway, and a large kitchen where you could put a four-top if you chose to and one and a half bathrooms. On the top floor there are two more bedrooms, one now divided into a bedroom and nursery and another full bath (if you're short - and I love those of you that got that). And the picture with Greyson reminded me that they are all full. As of today, we have three of our kids in the house and a grandson. Our dining room table is full. On the lake? No, but near "downtown" which I love. I can walk to get a burrito larger than our youngest daughter's head, visit the bank, get a haircut and hit the splash-pad on the way home. I can walk down the street to go to the pool. Family drives to hike and see waterfalls, get ice cream, or pick up some shaved ice covered in sugary goodness. And the motorcycle... oh yeah, I forgot that I picked up one of those along the way, just like I did with "inexpensive" guitars that are in my office and displayed in the large hallway at the house. Not that I have a "collection" of rare and antique guitars, but I have good contacts who keep their eyes out for good used equipment for players. They're all well used.
No, I'm not a rock star, but I have gotten a few standing ovations (one even during a worship service, but that's an article for a different time). I'm not in the movies or on TV, but I write, direct, produce video devotionals all the time about a topic that I happen to love. I don't "sell" anymore, but I do believe in what I share. I've made the paper a few times (for good things) but never "front page above the fold." I don't have "fans" but I will certainly take my friends. And I'm "famous" enough to be known on sight. Just the other day, I walked into a local shop and the owner said, "You're the new pastor at the Presbyterian Church, aren't you?" He had no idea what my name was or anything about me - but that's a certain level of fame, isn't it? (If you're not clear, that's an attempt at a joke - the church is well-known, I'm only known because of my association to the church, which is ok with me). I'm not rich, but if I had exponentially more, I'd waste it or give it all away. Our "big" thing is a yearly family trip to the forgotten coast of Florida (the one with the trees instead of high-rise condos).
So, to the checklist. Money is ok. Family is larger than the dining room table. Big house near the lake, but nearer to Chinese food. Guitars, motorcycle, friends with boats (which is better, much less maintenance), where I'm supposed to be in my field (I like solo-pastor work much better than multi-staff). Sounds to me like the "wants" of youth are solidly being taken care of, even if I lost track of them. Sure, they aren't exactly what I expected, but then again, it's rare that I know what is better for myself than what God provides.
Mark 11: 24 "Therefore I say unto you, what things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that you will receive them, and ye shall have them."
Rob
