Under My Roof

I flew over my house one time. I was in an American Airlines 727 coming from Chicago and preparing to land in St. Louis. It was nighttime. As such it was much too dark to pick my house out of the thousands of lights down below. But I know I was over it because I found the Burger King about a mile away. And the street layout was clearly my neighborhood. I suppose if you were to look at my house from the air during a sunny day there would not be much to make it stand out from any other house in the neighborhood. I have brown shingles. I have a chimney and several other assorted vents protruding upward from the roof. There are gutters on every side. That is about all you can say about it. It's just a roof.

It is what is under my roof that makes this little plot of ground unique. My roof has kept my family dry for nearly fourteen years now. When we moved under it my children were nine, eleven and thirteen. I was thirty-eight. My wife was even younger than that. The nine year old is now about to turn twenty-two. He still lives here and I am so glad that he does. I know that he would rather live on his university campus or in his own apartment but he has accepted the fact that these things will come with time. This wonderful young man stays busy and yet loves to sleep. Sounds like a twenty-two year old, doesn't it? I love the sound of my garage door going up at night because it means that he is home. The house brightens when he walks in the door. Just seeing him makes me smile. The eleven year old is now twenty-four. He lives in Crystal Lake, Illinois and serves God in the middle school ministry of a very large church. On July 6th he will give me my very first daughter-in-law. She is one of the sweetest girls on the planet and I would do anything for her. My thirteen year old is now twenty-six. She lives with her husband and baby daughter in another suburb of our city. I watched her hold her baby girl tonight and I got chills, remembering how I used to hold her the same way and feeling awestruck that my baby girl now had one of her own. She is one of the best mom's I know.

Which brings me to my roof. Things were very busy under it this past week.

First my father-in-law showed up. He flew in and spent the week with us. I have one of the best father's-in-law every. He raised a tremendous daughter and then he simply GAVE her to me. No charge. And he treats me like his real son and not his son-in-law. I am proud to be in his family. Next came Scott. Scott is the twenty-four year old that I mentioned a few paragraphs back. He flew in on Thursday. He is a lot of things but about the best thing I can think of to say about him is that he is one of my best friends. I am not at all certain why a twenty-four year old with everything going for him and the world at his fingertips would bother being close friends with his fifty-one year old father but I am so glad that he does. He will never know how much I love him, enjoy him, and revel in the time we spend together. Actually, I think that I bug him more than I should. I call him everyday and text message him whenever the urge hits. He handles it with patience and love but I know he has more important things to do. Still, he loves me and allows me this grace ... to be an interactive dad. Anyway, the next to show up was my grandbaby, Elle and her dog Rigby. Elle's mom was going to Nashville overnight to listen to her husband’s band. Yes, Joe is in a band that actually tours. I suggest you go to itunes and run a power search for the "Fundamental Elements." You'll love their music and the four young husbands that make up this indie band could use the financial support. Remember what it is like to be young and have a family? Me too. And then my brother-in-law and sister-in-law (I hate to have to add the "in-law" part to their names. I consider them my brother and my sister) came by and stayed for a few hours and we got to talk about serious issues for a few minutes. Health issues that we ask God to be working on for my sister (in-law.) She leaves tomorrow for two weeks at Mayo Clinic. My wife will go and spend the better part of one of those weeks with her so that she will not have to be alone. You see, that is what family does. And nobody should have to be sick alone.

So we had a busy, crazy, loving, caring, wonderful time under our roof for the past week. We ate together. We sat and simply talked. We watched favorite TV programs. We went places together. We took turns playing with Baby Elle. What a great week it was! It will go down in my personal history books as one of my favorites ever!

And then early this morning my father-in-law's jet left for Richmond. Late this afternoon Scott's jet left for Chicago. Late tonight my daughter came and took Elle and Rigby the dog home. My awesome son who lives down the hall from me went out with some friends to enjoy a Saturday night. I know better than to wait up.

And now? Now my wife is asleep. Bailey the Killer Beagle is asleep. And I just finished walking through a darkened house, stopping in every room and remembering the joy, the noise and the love of the last week. I thanked my Father ... the one in heaven ... the one that created us all ... for allowing me the honor of living out the past seven days. The walls still echo with the laughter and the wise cracks. The carpet needs vacuuming because of the eating and walking and playing that took place on it. Several sets of sheets could use a washing machines attention. No major damage was done to anything and yet everywhere I look are the blessed "scars" of the time we spent together. You know how your kitchen table, the one you eat your meals together on every night, begins to show wear after a few years. A mark where a knife was dropped. A dent in the wood where somebody slammed down a game piece while playing some noisy, rowdy family game. The usual signs of life lived around a shared table. You know what I mean, right? Well, my entire house shows those marks tonight. And I do not want them ever to be repaired. Several times during the past week I just stepped back from the scene and took in the moment. I reminded myself to memorize it all because it would not last forever. And now every mark, every dirty dish, every damp towel has a meaning. Add them up and they equal the priceless gift of family.

My roof is blessed. It is solid on top and blessed underneath. I cannot ask for more than that.