A Four Year Old Asks The Six Million Dollar Question

The latest cause for Gramasylum arrived almost five months ago. Colette Rose, is number four grandchild so I have not had the concentrated time with her that I had with her sister Laurel who was the first Blankman grandchild. The time discrepancy shows. Colette, called Coco so as to keep up  with Lolo, is not as crazy about Cece as Cece is about her.....yet. This one is very partial to her mother and the feeding accoutrements that she alone possesses. I got her to take a bottle once so far. I had her in the front carrier thingy-majingy, and when she was beginning to nod off, I put the bottle in her mouth and she began sucking and actually took most of the bottle. I felt so accomplished! Figured we had made great strides toward mutual admiration.

Then came last weekend. I drove to their house in San Diego to take care of Coco so mom and dad could go to a Christmas production of The Grinch with big sister Laurel. Let's just say we did okay. But there was no taking a bottle this time. And the Cokes, another name for this latest little bundle, is also very particular about how she is to be held and what the person who is holding her is supposed to be doing. Basically, Coco prefers you up and moving...all the time. And even when she falls asleep, she must have some kind of an internal level mechanism. As soon as you try to sit down or lay down, and she is no longer perpendicular to the floor, her eyes pop open and she protests substantially enough to get you up and moving again.

Later in the afternoon the parental returned with Lolo. Coco was very pleased to see her mom and to be reunited with the accoutrements only her mother can provide. Then the parental units left again to go to a party. This time leaving big sister Laurel with Cece, too. Lolo was anxious to play with Cece. It was not to be. Coco was in charge. There are few games that can be played, and no books that can be read while holding, and walking around and bouncing a five month old baby. So, each time Lolo asked if I could play with her, I had to respond that we would have to wait until Coco was asleep. I think Lolo had enough experience with her little sister to know this was not likely going to happen any time soon.

Lo finally spoke her mind.

"Where's Papa," Laurel asked?

"Papa is at home," I responded.

"Why didn't he come to help take care of the baby," Lo inquired further?

"His favorite team has a football game," I explained, "and Papa wanted to watch it."

Laurel now placed her hand on her hip and twisted her mouth in the way one does when one is puzzled or irritated. Then she asked the six million dollar question.

"What's more important? Football or helping to take care of the baby," Laurel asked with serious conviction?

Wow. Not quite four and a half years old and this little woman understands priorities! How was I to answer this serious challenge?

"That's a great question, Lo," I responded. Truth be known, my mouth was a little twisted, too. I had asked Papa the same question.

Then I passed off the responsibility to answer the question to the one who was responsible for the question being asked. "You'll have to ask Papa that," I added.

What's more important? From the mouths of babes. In Papa's defense, when Lo visits he is at her beck and call and is also a pretty crazy grandparent. After she visited the last time he explained that he doesn't always feel like playing what she wants to play. But, he realizes that there will come a day when she will not ask him to play with her anymore. So, he will take advantage of it while she is still asking. Have you ever seen an over sixty man playing Barbies? Trust me. It makes up for several football game absences!

What's more important? Coco finally did go to sleep and hard enough so that I laid her down and she stayed asleep. I then helped Lolo take a bath, and brush her teeth and get jammied up. Lolo and I got to play and read a book before mom and dad returned home. I kissed her goodbye and her daddy brought her outside to wave goodbye to me as I backed out of their driveway to head home.

I had been on duty about nine hours. It was late. I had about an hour drive home. And, I had to preach the next morning! But what is more important? This day called for a crazy grandma. I'm so thankful that I  have the credentials!

 

Choosing Crazy Chaos

The pictures say it all. This is what it means to open your heart (and home) to a grandchild.  I have always been a neatnic and like my spaces clean and free of clutter. In fact, I cannot sit down to read or work if the space around me is chaotic. In every house we have lived in my children knew there was designated space for chaos--their bedrooms and a play room, and designated space for peace and tranqulity--all the rest of the house. Not anymore. Chaos rules.

In 2013 we downsized and moved into a 1300 square foot condo (don't weep for us, it has an ocean view and it is only five minutes down the hill to the water). And between July 2011 and July 2015 four little people moved into our lives. The chaos began instantly.

When my children were babies we had a car seat, a stroller called an umbrella stroller because it collapsed to the size of one, and a diaper bag. That was it. Today? Oh my! These children come with a car seat that doubles as a carry and hold seat and has an awning and a expiration date! Which means the manufacturers make a lot of money on these expensive items because they expire! Who knew?! Then there is the  portable collapsable cradling sleeper. It perfectly cradles the newborn and some of them even swing and play songs. I once lost our first child. I made a nice little bed for him on the floor next to our bed when we were visiting relatives in Austin, Texas. When we woke up in the morning he was gone. Nowhere in sight. After a very brief panic and a quick survey of the floor he was found under the bed, safe, cradled tight between the bed and the floor sleeping soundly.

And, have you seen the new jogging strollers? They are ginormous! In size and expense. They have three full size wheels that must be from Michelin, rolling smooth as silk and taking up the full sidewalk. You can buy two seaters which take up the sidewalk and one lane of the adjacent street.


They come with their own awning, too, and a storage compartment big enough to put two more kids in if you needed to. Then there is the backpack. It is filled with all the possible remedies and aids for one of any hundreds of potential circumstances that parents nowadays read about online that a baby could or might encounter... it never ends!

And as these little people get a little older an entire room of toys travel with them wherever they go! My dear LoLo has ONE play set that has ninety-two pieces. Ninety-two! And she has about a dozen of these sets. Oh my! So much for open clear space. Every square inch of our 1300 square feet are filled the evidence of the arrival of these precious little people. What isn't a toy or game, these innovative little people make into a toy or game. Of course, the bed is a trampoline. Some things never change. The kitchen floor is for putting puzzles together. The bathtubs are now canvases with all sorts of water soluable products to go crazy with. Closets are hiding places for little people and for various objects they decide to conceal from Papa and Cece. Blankets and chairs turn into tents that can be a hospital, a zoo, a castle or anything else they want it to be. And, I love it! What has happened to me?

When these little people enter your heart and home everything else takes a back seat. Who needs clutter free space when you have little people filling your house with endless chatter, squeals, and laughter? Who needs a coffee table decor fit for Houzz when you can have the space decked out for hours and hours of make believe play? Who wants compliments on a neatly and beautifully decorated home when you can have countess hugs and kisses from these little people telling you that they love you? There is no other explanation for this turnabout than absolute crazy love--certifiable craziness. It is Gramasylum and I am a proud and grateful permanent resident.

Falling in Love at LegoLand?

I missed the Gramasylum post last Sunday night because I had to do some investigating to get the facts right on this one! It took awhile, but here it is!

It happened right under our noses. We knew it was a special day. Our two oldest grandchildren have birthdays just three days apart. For their birthdays this year, Lolo, four, and Kaso, three, we gave them  a trip to LegoLand. Of course a three and four year old can’t quite comprehend a gift that they cannot open or touch immediately. But we did our best any way. We found pictures of LegoLand and blew them up full page size and put them in a booklet that ended by telling them they were going to LegoLand!

“Hurray! Okay! Let’g go,” Laurel, said.

“Yah,” said Kasen! And they both headed for the door.

“Whoa! Kiddos,” I said. “We are not going today. We will have to plan a time when the two of you can be together again and Papa and Cece can take a day off and then we will go to LegoLand,” I explained, lamely, of course. These cousins live three hours apart and have other smaller siblings. This can seriously complicate such plans but we were all committed to find a way to do it.

It took us two and a half months but we finally pulled it off. On a Thursday afternoon in September Kasen’s mom came from Santa Clarita with Kasen and his little sister. The next morning Papa, Cece, and Kasen drove to San Diego to pick up Laurel. LegoLand is in Carlsbad, California, actually half way between San Clemente and San Diego.  So it still required some logistics but we did it! On Friday, September 25, we made good on our birthday gift and arrived at LegoLand when the park opens at 10 a.m.  It was so much fun to see and hear their excitement. They were holding hands and giggling and Laurel was intermittently wrapping her arms around our legs and saying, “Thank you, Cece. Thank you, Papa.” Kasen in his own expressive way just walked alongside me and said, “I love you Cece.” That’s good for unlimited trips to LegoLand or wherever else the boy wants to go!

Of course the genius marketing folks of these establishments place the “gift store” right at the entrance of the park. And other purchasing opportunities are located throughout the park often at the conclusion of an exhibit or ride where you exit, or at least try to exit through the gift shop. Yah, right! But the main gift shop is the first thing you see when you walk in the main entrance. And, of course, this is the first place a child wants to go who is old enough to know grandmas and grandpas love to buy things for their grandchildren. I did hold my ground and said we might go through there on the way out but that our trip to LegoLand was their gift for the day. Kasen is not yet old enough to initiate the buying ritual. Laurel, on the other hand is already a pro. She had informed me when we picked her up that her mom had said that the trip to Legoland was her gift but maybe, Cece, might buy her one small thing.  I think LoLo might have had this reversed in the telling of it. This is probably what Laurel told her mom! She is one smart little cookie. Remember, this is the little woman who at three told her Cece about self-talk as a means of calming your fears! But on this day, she was incredibly circumspect and self-controlled and we walked right past the gift store and we did not hear another word from her about buying something.

We had a blast! We made Lego cars and Lego boats and raced them. We went on rides and saw exhibits of amazing things made completely from Legos. We cooled off  in one of the water pads in the park. We saw a stage performance of Best Friends Forever. Even in the heat of the day and with no place to sit, Laurel was transfixed. Of course, she knew the name of all four of the girls and every word of every song.  Kasen, on the other hand, watched for about five minutes and then decided to go sit with Papa in the shade. Go figure.

But the real show stopper of the day we found out about a week later. Who knew a three year old could fall in love at LegoLand without grandpa and grandma knowing anything about it? Yes, Laurel informed her mother and father that Kasen had fallen in love at LegoLand. But wait, it gets even more dramatic. She further informed them that Kasen was going to marry this little girl. What?! When did that happen? Neither Papa or I saw or heard anything. These kids were never out of our sight or beyond hearing range. How could this happen right under our noses and us not know anything about it?!

So just this past weekend, Laurel was coming to stay with us. I decided I would wait for the right time and then strike up a conversation with her about exactly what happened at LegoLand. I knew that if I was too pushy or brought it up at the wrong time I would likely get nowhere. I had to practice my own self-control and be circumspect. The first night she stayed over I was laying with her in her bed reading a book, when she asked me to tell her a story. She likes me to tell real stories about her daddy and his sisters when they were little and the silly things they did. I might embellish them a little, but the basic plot is legit. Anyway, this was my opportunity.

I said, “Hey, Lo, why don’t you tell me the story about Kasen falling in love at LegoLand?”

Laurel responded, “I don’t want to. Ask Kaso to tell you.”

What?  This four year old sprite was not going to get off that easy! “Come on, Lo. I heard you told your mommy and daddy, so you can tell Cece,” I said as connivingly as I  could.

“Okay,” she said, sort of begrudgingly, “ Kasen fell in love at Legoland.”

“Wait,” I objected, “there’s more than that. You told your mommy he was going to marry the girl.”

“Yah,” she offered still a bit reluctant, “I asked him if he was going to marry her, and he said, yes.”

Okay, so at least he did not initiate the proposal. Laurel asked him. Trying not to push too hard, I inquired, “Where did this happen, LoLo?”

“At lunch,” she said without any hesitation, “when we were playing in that little play house, he fell in love with the little girl that was in there.”

Oh, my goodness! Right under our noses indeed! Sure enough. Where we ate lunch there was a little play house about twenty feet away where we could see them playing. But out of sight because we never saw the other little girl that was in the little house.  We saw LoLo and Kasen  running in and out of the house but I do not remember ever seeing another child! Holy cow! What kind of delinquent, incompetent grandma am I?! Crazy enough to have my grandson fall in love and propose right under my nose without  me ever even seeing the girl! And my four year old granddaughter saw it, heard it, and was telling the story. The next time Kasen comes, I will cross examine him…I mean, I will see what his explanation is. Laurel did not know her name. If Kasen knows her name or has her cell phone number, that little girl is getting a phone call from one very crazy grandma. A three year old falling in love and proposing right under my nose.

And, oh, by the way, they both picked out one little thing at the gift shop on the way out of the park. Gramasylum rules!

It's About the Space

In 2014, 18 billion dollars was spent in the United States on traditional toys. These include everything from action figures to dolls to building sets. At 3.6 billion outdoor toys and sports toys were the largest portion of the 18 billion. I must confess I try hard not to. I say I am not going to. But doggone it! When those granz look up at  you with those eyes and smother you with hugs and kisses and are just flat out adorable beyond description all my best laid plans crumble and I buy them toys. I try to stay on the side of educational or imaginative and creative, but let’s get real. Sometimes I just buy whatever they want because I can! This is Gramasylum after all where it’s pretty clear where much more powerful factors are in play than simply what is rational or cheap.

I am proud to say that I put away and stored, much to my husband’s chagrin, a few…okay a lot… of select toys from when my own children were little. We packed and moved them repeated times for 30 years before our first grandchild showed up. I saved some money that way, right? And I am even more pleased to say, and have pointed out to my husband often, that these are now some of the our grandchildren's favorites. A Fisher-Price doctor set is in the top five along with two Polly Pocket sets, Legos, and a canister with different shaped holes in the top and different colored shapes that fit into those holes. Bam! Some toys are classic. I even have a Mr. Potato Head from 35 years ago. I keep this toy in my office and it rocks all the kids who come in with their parents. It allows us to have somewhat meaningful adult conversation while the kiddos pull him apart and put him back together in strange and wonderful ways.

But anyone who has been a child and remembers or anyone who has had children or grandchildren know that the real child mesmerizer is not a particular toy but space. Yes. Space. Every child from the beginning of time until now loves having a special place to play. I don’t remember my mom or dad doing it for me but I know I did it for our three kids and now I do it for our granz. We take blankets and miscellaneous furniture and we drape it all to create a play space. Kids go nuts. “CeCe, Cece! Make me a tent!” The tent becomes a house, a hospital (where we use the 35 year old Fisher Price doctor set to play doctor), a school room. Whatever it becomes it occupies their imaginations for longer than any toy. Though it certainly does a number on general use of that particular space for the duration of the play it is otherwise free except for time and effort. No toy industry ringing up profits in this! But I have even more proof that space wins over toys. I have photographic proof! Every toy box I have ever used has itself become play space. The first toy box I used for my grandchildren was the bright blue elephant you see in this blog. Laurel was not even two when she started pulling all the toys out of the toy “box” and crawled in it to play. Who needs toys? You just need a fun space! Then just recently I got a new toy box. Not as fancy as the elephant but still a great fun space to play. (The blue elephant had become damaged from all the crawling in and out of it and duct tape could not longer hold it together so it had to be retired.) Kasen is three but the last time he visited he emptied the new toy box and crawled in as you can see in the other picture in this blog. The look on his face says it all. Who needs toys when you can have a fun little space just to be.

Special spaces are so easy and so much fun! Of course the challenge for Grama Cece in the tent version is getting in and out and up and down out of these spaces. The heart is willing. The body oh so resistant! It’s why I prefer the actual toy boxes for their play space. These spaces are so small even my little grandchildren know I cannot get into it with them! They are satisfied to have me just pretend with them while they are in these spaces. I pretend I can’t find them. I pretend they are a toy. I pretend I am going to cover them with toys. It’s about the space. 

Feeling Like Mrs. America

 

It was a great day for playing at the beach. We set up and then headed down near the water to dig and make castles and a lake. We like to make our own little lake to splash in. Our lake was so cool it attracted other kids. One little boy’s name was Liam. Liam was older but he played with us for quite awhile. Then he asked, “What’s his phone number?”  I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly, but he repeated it, and sure enough, he was asking for my grandson’s phone number. I resisted. What was he? Some kind of a toddler stalker?!  Instead, I introduced him to my grandson, Kasen. But he persisted. He  wanted his phone number, and now, sounding a bit irritated, asked if I knew his phone number. Then he explained that he was from Riverside and wanted it so the next time he came to the beach he could call him to play. Ah! Finally it made some sense but still weirded me out a bit. I did not give in.  I told him Kasen did not live nearby and that he would have to call me if he wanted to play because I was the one who lived close by. He didn’t want my phone number.

Kasen wanted to go and play in the water so we left Liam and our little lake and went to play in the waves. Kasen started out pretty timid but gradually he gained courage and we went farther and farther out to encounter bigger and bigger waves. Trust me. I had a firm grip on both of his arms but we ventured out far enough for him to get wet up to his neck. His fear diminished and his delight increased proportionately. If not for my 60-year-old back we could have played in the waves for hours. But what the heart wants the back can rarely support. We headed back to the beach and our little lake.

We played there for quite awhile longer. No sign of Liam. And when I began to feel the effect of the sun on my back and arms we packed up to head home. Kasen did not want to quit but after a lengthy reassurance that we would come again next time he visited we headed home.

On our way down the beach trail we passed a young man standing at one of those work-out stations. He was not working out at the moment. But he was pretty ripped. Kasen saw him and stopped and said, “Hi.”  The young man smiled, but did not respond. When I caught up I smiled and said hello, but I still did not hear him respond. I pointed to Kasen and said, “Mr. Congeniality.” The young man just kept smiling. Kasen took my hand and looked right at the man and said, “This is my Cece.”  We started walking again, and as we left the young man still smiling and saying nothing, Kasen repeated, with more inflexion this time, “ This is MY Cece, my Grandma Cece.”Then he added, “I love you, Cece.”  I don’t care how ripped or young that guy was. At that moment my weak and aching back was greatly strengthened.  I felt like Mrs. America and the coolest person on the beach and crazy with love for this little guy who declares to young men on the beach that I am HIS Cece and that he loves me.   

The Outer Reaches of Gramasylum

 

So when do you say, “No,” to grandchildren? For those in Gramasylum,  very seldom. I was tempted on this occasion.

Papa and I were at Laurel’s house to take care of her while her new little sister arrived.  In the morning we headed out for a bagel, one of LoLo’s favorites for breakfast. Papa got his usual—jalapena cheese. Laurel and I got our favorite—cinnamon crunch.  This one was different. It was big and long! Holy cow! So Lo and I shared one. We were half way into the bagel when Lo took some of the cream cheese on her finger and started wiping it on my arm.

When I asked her what she was doing she answered quickly and confidently, “I’m putting sunscreen on  you.”

“What,” I asked incredulous?

“I don’t want you to get sunburned, so I am putting sunscreen on your arms,” she insisted.

So what did I do? My reflex response was to say, “Don’t do that!”

But my heart overruled. I let her put cream cheese on my arm and spread it around. I played along with her pretending the cream cheese was sunscreen. Fortunately she was satisfied with administering it on only part of the arm and did not go for my face or legs. Not sure I am crazy enough to have allowed that. The whole time she applied the “sunscreen” she had that adorable little grin on her face. The one that reveals she knew just how crazy it was that she was doing this and even crazier that I was letting her. But the delight on her face was worth all the sticky icky mess. After all, what harm can a little cream cheese do, right?

Why do I let her do these things? It is Gramasylum where decorum and dignity are offset by love and child-like fun. I had put sunscreen on her many times. Now it was her turn. At this age the playing along with her imagination is usually not convenient but it is almost always harmless. And, it is always lots of fun.  I mean what can a little cream cheese do to your arm? And playing along with her crazy imagination communicates that I love her—that I will do almost anything for her. Entering her childlike imaginative world let’s her know that she matters to me and that I care enough about her to give up decorum and dignity. Even though she does not know those words, she knows what they are. Believe me! That is what the adorable little grin is all about. She knows no adult in their right mind would allow a child to put cream cheese on their arm. But she knows by now that her Grama Cece is not in her right mind. She is crazy with oozing love for this little woman. This episode explored the outer reaches of Gramasylum, but it is likely the depths of craziness has not yet been plumbed.

What is the craziest thing you ever allowed one of your grandchildren to do to you? Share it in a comment below. Come on! Share the  craziness!

Crazy Oozing Love

A crazy grama should have known better. I thought there was no way that I could loved another child as much as LoLo. There was just no way. Wherever we were, no matter how many people were around we were connected. We had a thing for each other. And she was the one I had waited for nine years, after all. If absence makes the heart grow fonder, my heart was beyond description fond! And it wasn’t just me. My daughter wondered too. She was afraid that no future child of hers could find space in my Lo Lo crazy heart.

And then came Kasen. Three days short of one year after Laurel Ana, LoLo, was born I was laying on the hospital floor waiting for Kasen. Yes. I was literally lying on the tile floor in the waiting room at the hospital. I had been there all night. I should have known crazy love would kick in. What fifty- something respectable woman would lay on the floor using her purse as a pillow--full of very hard objects, I might add--all night. People kept saying, “Go home. Get some sleep.” My mind sort of understood the suggestion but there was no way my crazy heart was going anywhere.

Finally realizing I was going nowhere, a very kind nursing assistant who apparently had a meter on his belt that detected craziness, came into the waiting room and gave me a blanket for the floor and a blanket to roll up for a pillow. It was about 4:30 a.m. 

Kyle, Kasen’s daddy kept coming into the room to report progress, but it would be two and a half more hours before Kyle came in the waiting room with the words my crazy heart was waiting for.  He’s here! Kasen Elijah Absten had arrived! Though my hips were screaming  profanities and my  aged muscles had atrophied about midnight, I was up off that floor in a nanosecond.  Kyle must have seen the crazed look in my eye and tried to calm me down. It would be awhile before I could see him, he said. Right. A crazy woman on the floor all night waiting and he was suggesting she would have to wait awhile longer? Who was crazy now?!

Fast forward. I should have known better. Crazy as I am I should have figured love would come crazy wide and crazy deep. I am as crazy wildly gah-gah over Kasen  as I was and am for Lo Lo. Crazy, I know. But Kasen and I have a thing for each other. When all three of us are together it gets really crazy sharing a crazy Grama, but we are figuring it out. Because the best part of being so crazy is that Lo and Kaso (we call him Kaso Grande) love my craziness. What others (their parents and my husband) move away from they beg for!

And last August a third one showed up. This time I had no doubts. More about Jenna later. Crazy as I am I knew crazy love would go wider and deeper. After waiting nine years I guess the craziness was festering inside. Now it oozes everywhere. Good thing. As I sit here reflecting on my crazy love for these three grandchildren, another one is knocking at my daughter-in-law’s birthing door. Yup. LoLo has a sister arriving any day. Colette—CoCo is about to enter Gramasylum. The craziness gets better and better!

Monkeying Around at a Memorial Service

Can you do that? Today I did. Steve Eugene Ruckman was a stellar human being and an equal opportunity prankster. He loved the song, “Hey, Hey, We’re the Monkeys,” and he loved to monkey around. There would be no way to celebrate his life without a little of the same at his memorial service.

Steve was one of those people who was always available when you needed him. He was also a man who could fix anything. Not a bad combination! He was the property manager for our church and one of our ruling elders. The former he came to willingly. The latter, I had to drag him kicking and screaming. Well . . . quietly kicking and screaming. Steve never made a scene. He did not want to be seen.

He resisted being an elder first because he was so dedicated to his family. He was the quintessential parent for his daughter, Katie, and son, Eric. They were in high school band and so Steve and his wife Ruth were band parents. They chaperoned, they chauffeured, they fed, they financed—everything a band needed, they were. Eric was a scout, too. Like his dad, he attained to Eagle Scout. So, of course, Steve was a quintessential Scout dad. He camped, he pledged, he built, he organized, he taught, he scouted—everything a scout troop needed, Steve was.

He did not see himself as a leader. He did not like to be “up front.” He was quiet and preferred to do things rather than talk about doing things. But he was a leader. People followed him. Peopled trusted him. When he did speak, people paid close attention. After his kids were out of band and Scouts, I cornered him. He succumbed to my pleading and carrying on. He became an elder. And he led. Quiet but strong leadership was his hallmark through a critical time in the life of our congregation.

But through all of it, Steve had fun and made life fun for others. He was in the office almost every day. He lit up the office with his pranks and teasing. When he first became ill from his chemo treatments, it was like the sunshine had been taken from the interior space of the church. We missed him. Steve and his family were in worship fifty Sundays out of the year, and on those Sundays Steve was the first person to greet people. As one frequent visitor described him, he was “the face of First Presbyterian Church of Downey.” And a warm and welcome face he was!

In 2006 I needed to move my office. Steve offered to put together a moving crew while I was on vacation. The new office was bigger, and so I had told him I would like to have a small table and chairs for working space if possible. Steve accommodated my request as only Steve could.

When I returned, there it was. Carefully placed in the middle of my office was a red and yellow Tyco picnic table, benches and all! And for added effect, in the middle of the table sat a large box of crayons and a tent sign that read “Pastor Candie,” each letter written with a different color crayon. Steve loved to monkey around.

Last year during my sabbatical I was in Southeast Asia. Steve could not resist teasing me even from around the world. He sent me an email with a picture of my office door attached. A bright pink piece of paper covered my name plate, and on that paper was the name “Steve Ruckman.” The subtitle declared that he was in charge.

About nine months ago Steve was diagnosed with endocarcinoma. It was already fairly advanced, and the chemo and radiation treatments quickly zapped him of his energy and ability to get around and fix and lead and monkey around. On Tuesday, March 15, at 4:22 p.m., after a day with family and friends laughing and crying at his bedside, Steve entered the eternal kingdom.

So earlier today I presided over the memorial service to celebrate Steve’s life. We can do that because Steve knew Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior, and lived it plainly and simply. Steve is not dead. Steve is alive because that is what Christ promises in John 11. Because Jesus died and lives again, even though a person dies, he or she will live. This was my meditation text for his memorial service. That is what Easter is all about. We will also celebrate because Steve would have it no other way. He would want us laughing and joking. He would want us monkeying around. It’s likely that is what he is doing right now. He is enjoying being in the presence of God, and I am quite certain he is monkeying around with angels.