Troy’s 2024, chapter 20 (May 12-18)

Aura and I put our plan for Mother’s Day together a few days beforehand. We hid the present and the card where they wouldn’t be found. We made a pact to sleep in or at least let Allyson sleep in. When she woke up, we’d give her the present and the card. While waiting for Allyson to get up, Aura and I watched TV upstairs. Then she woke up, and Aura sprang into action. Back in the early months of the year, Aura told me she had an idea of a present she wanted to get Allyson. She’d seen a jacket that had a battery and electric warmers inside it. Knowing her mom’s cold nature, she thought it would be a great gift and she told me she was going to save her allowance money to get it. I admired her thoughtfulness, and I told her I’d help her find a jacket online at a decent price, and that I’d pitch in some money on it too. She would have to save her allowance for several months to get up to what was needed. There were moments where Aura was tempted to spend her money on something else. Each time she resisted. When we finally got to May, Aura had saved close to $50 from months of collecting allowance money. We ordered the jacket and she proudly gave it to Allyson on Mother’s Day. I was proud of her, because she definitely has a consumer mentality that is tough to keep reeled in. She likes to get stuff, but she held off on small stuff, trusting a long game in order to get something bigger.

I drove into Portland early in the week for an MRI. Since Mom’s procedure to correct a large aneurysm in her brain, we’ve become much more present to the knowledge that brain aneurysms run in our family, and we’ve had several people in the family tree who suffered from them and died unexpectedly. The surgeon who performed on Mom said that it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for Tracye and I to each get an MRI as a precaution. After many rounds with different doctors’ offices trying to coordinate, insurance, and finding a place with a functioning MRI machine, I had an appointment which finally happened this week. I’ve never been in an MRI machine, so I didn’t know how I’d react. It turned out to be very comfortable. The tech let me pick the music that would play in my headphones and over their loudspeaker. I picked D’Angelo. It was chill. After the medical appointment I scooted straight over to the Nissan dealership to have a recall serviced. The nearest dealership was within walking distance of a movie theater, so I jogged there to catch the latest Planet of the Apes movie. Everything was scheduled tightly in a way I wasn’t sure I’d completely pull off, but it went just fine. My dinner was popcorn and a hot dog. I picked up the car about 20 minutes before closing time.

I have grown pretty accustomed to nothing coming easy, to everything having a hitch, to silver linings being the best you can hope for. I don’t expect much very hopefully and I try not to be surprised by disappointment. All that’s a sort of defense mechanism, of course, that I’ve developed in response to my experience of the recent past. I don’t really blame anyone, I don’t think I hold a lot of resentment towards anyone–I’m trying to let go of as much of that as I can. I just think everyone is stretched pretty thin, so everyone is less capable of a lot. So, when anything outside of those expectations happen, I don’t know exactly what to do with it. I think I’ll open up to it more, as it feels more possible. I think I’m on the brink of receiving it, and I suspect this will be big for me–a redemptive sort of period of my life.

Allyson joined me for morning prayers at the Meditation Patio one day. We sat quietly on the benches, looking out from under a canopy of young tree branches on the lake as the fog lifted and birds went to work. I closed my eyes and tried to greet the spirit of God. I asked it questions, I asked it to look after people, I asked it to be with me. I breathed in, hoping to breathe spirit to feel it in my body and my own spirit. I opened my eyes and slowly turned to Allyson. A chickadee hopped near her on the bench, tik-tik-ticking. It then jumped on her lap. We both made eye contact with wide eyes, neither daring to move additionally. The bird jumped to her shoulder. It then hopped over to the back of the bench, then landed on my shoe. From there it fluttered up to my shoulder. I felt it gently pecking on the back of my neck, and I bit my lip to not end this moment prematurely, trying to find some outlet for the utter astonishment I felt from this happening. The chickadee is the bravest of the little birds, but this seemed particularly daring. It is something I suspect neither of us will encounter again for some time if ever. Something in it felt like a blessing, some sort of grace.

I carved out time this week to take Thursday off and serve as a chaperone for Aura’s field trip to the Portland Zoo. I got paired up with Chase and Morgan, parents of Aura’s besties Brooklyn and Addie. It was a pretty chill group of adults, and the girls made their plans for which animals to see. Tops on all of their list was the Red Panda. We scooted through the zoo at a great pace, quickly enough to catch most of the animals, but leisurely enough to make stops and really observe the ones each of us found interesting. The weather was perfect, warm and sunny, and we were all at a good level of tired for a 1.5-hour bus ride. And, we did lay eyes on the Red Panda. Aura turned 7 years old Friday. She had already had her party, so most of the celebration had already happened. We gave her our presents, and she dressed for school in a style I’d characterize as “birthday regal.” We did the annual official measuring on her tree shaped growth chart. My girl is growing for sure.

Allyson and Aura left for Portland Friday night, taking the bus in for their hotel. They’d spend the night in the Rose City and get up the next morning to take a plane for Nashville, where they’d spent about 10 days to attend graduations and visit with family. I’d be home alone for the next little bit, and I began my 10-day bachelor time leading a retreat at camp, something like I might have done back in my legit bachelor days. Last year we dreamed up a renewal retreat for adults, thinking of how difficult so many people have had it lately. We thought about how some time to be a camper might be healing and refreshing for people who had been worn down. We knew it was needed but didn’t know if people would make time for it on this date in this incarnation. I thought if we had 10, we’d still go through with it, 20 would feel like an impressive success, and 30 would feel about as the best scenario. We ended up with 28. The ages ranged from people in their early 20s to early 70s. The largest age group represented was pretty well exactly my generation–the people in their 40s. I was worried how these adults would adjust to camp conditions. They were mostly game for everything. So many of these people had had formative experiences as younger campers, and the chance to do this again was a dream come true. I needed a weekend like this too.

I scheduled activities on the lake, discussions, made room for hikes and beach walks, and time to sit around and socialize. I lead all the staff-led activities, and it felt a little closer to the days when running activities was a much larger percentage of my job description. Several of the attendees were good friends, and many felt like new ones I would see again. Many sat out on the patio after dark around the wood pellet warmer, chatting and laughing, the way I envisioned the patio when we started drawing up plans for it years ago. The retreat was going even better than I imagined it might. I have not led a retreat on my own in some time, and I assumed I’d be rusty. I’ve felt a lot like I’ve drifted out of touch to some degree with what works, with what people are looking for. This was feeling just right. I have found myself pretty exhausted this week, feeling sleep deprived. I’m not sure if it has to do with how much sleep I’m getting, the quality of the sleep, or just a longer-term weariness that my body is just now letting me feel. It could be that it’s May, and I still need my summer legs. Regardless, I’m going for it right now. I am bound and determined to do the things that I trust will bring joy and meaning. There’s a part of me that’s still opening up to do that after shutting itself off from a lot of things for protection. I’m not worried about that part–it will open in its time. I am working to make sure that when it does open up completely there will be a flood of goodness waiting for it.