Church services of late have made me think about family. My own, the one who guided me, the ones I followed on television as if they were my own. Each series so far are followed with disclaimers, which if you've read this blog about a month ago, I ironically had to use this method to great effect. Even going to church has been a different experience. The music, the handshakes, the catching-ups are a simple and calming affect of church. But it's the conviction that makes me come back week after week. The conviction, the squirm, the uneasy laugh I have among my friends and my wife who sit in our area, are the reasons I know I'm in the right place. Going to church to feel good is not why you should be going. Going to church to make changes, to make you think, eventually makes you feel more than good. Unending joy.
I was born in 1974, so all the late 70 shows and 80 family shows were probably reruns. I watched the Jetson's every morning thinking they were made in my time. I watched the Flintstones, too. One family in the future and one set in prehistoric times. Dads overwhelmed with family responsibilities and blowhard bosses. The wives always knew more than everyone.
Later, I was obsessed with shows like "Good Times," "All in the Family" and "The Jeffersons." 'Good Times' and 'Jeffersons' brought attention to the mythical and overbearing "Man" who ruled over the ghetto (meaning, the loves of people with color) with a macabre sense of humor. Why didn't JJ ever make it out of the hood? Cause the Man kept him there? And what about the head of the household? John Amos died, leaving a family to fend for themselves (and was probably a symbol of the lack of African-American fathers in society at the time), George Jefferson showed you didn't have to be white to be a bigot, and Archie Bunker made me think every old man was secretly a mean-spirited Nazi. But a funny Nazi at least.
Other family shows had their moments. The hippy fathers and Ronald Reagan-loving Alex P. Keatonm the Brady Bunch's blended family survived reruns, the Grand Canyon and annoying cousins. The Full House made child rearing a man's job (albeit 3 men), Tony Danza was a maid/step-dad and Tim Allen perhaps began the buffoon dad with a heart of gold trend.
My family was neither of these and parts of all of them. My grandmother was known to muse Archie Bunker-ish at times, and to imagine seeing her free my one black cousin's hair from her braids to straiten and 'clean' it was something to behold. My aunt Rachel reminded me of Roseanne and the conversations I had in the car with my mom as a teenager (if my life is to flash before my eyes, it will be me in a passenger seat listening to my parents) rivaled anything on Gilmore Girls.
So we reclaimed some moments in our family, resurrected some long ago habits. We used to have game nights which resulted in some form of tantrum from the kids because one went out of turn and one didn't win. The one reminder I have of the man God wants me to be is to assume that I am doing enough. There's two sides of this argument that could lead to trouble as well. I could compare myself to my dads or other non-Christian and Christian fathers, but that's a human standard I have no business bringing to my family. The other is thinking that since I could never be perfect that I should just forget doing anything. I could never play enough games or throw enough baseballs, but I sure have fun along the way.
The other reclaiming experiment was the family dinner. With our older daughter about to leave for college, we have been eating more meals at the table. This is comical at times too, from Milly's ranch dressing obsession and my son's penchant for eating dinner without wearing a shirt. The kids have been helping Delcina in the kitchen and helping set the table. The forks don't always arrive on time and the salad doesn't always have small lettuce, but dinner has been a blessing I know many families do not foster.
I'm anxious to reclaim something new next Sunday. I want to squirm when I feel something is directed at me. Conviction looks great on us when we submit.
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