Pack a spare pair

I have one rule when it comes to packing for vacation: pack a spare pair of underwear.

So, before we set out for our summer road trip to the West Coast, with stops in Cochrane, Alta., Banff, Alta. and Kelowna, BC before making to our final destination of Vancouver, BC, we counted the days we would have to go before we could do laundry in a rental suite—and I added one.

We rented bikes to ride along Stanley Park's sea wall in Vancouver BC; one of the many highlights of our trip

I'm not really sure where this impulse (or compulsion, depending on your perspective) came from. Maybe it was from my short stint as a boy scout. Maybe it was my Mom's (and every mom's) advice to always wear clean underwear because "you never know what might happen." I guess proper hygiene wasn't reason enough.

Over the years, as our family has grown, that need to pack an extra pair expanded into packing extra, well, everything, to be prepared for the "just in case." Extra diapers (which I am ecstatic we didn't need to pack this summer), extra sunscreen, extra clothes just in case there's a bathroom accident or a spill (there's always a spill of some sort, usually on a white shirt), extra wipes for sticky hands, an extra Epi-pen for the child with allergies, an extra ice-cream pail...

Yeah, that last one may need an explanation. My dear wife thinks that she needs to be prepared for the possibility that kids will get sick and throw up in the van, or trailer, or cabin, or relatives' house, or pretty much anywhere. So, we travel with an ice cream pail in the van. But, for our long summer road trip, she packed a spare. I openly mocked her for this. Well, after two kids got car sick on windy mountain roads, one mysteriously threw up twice for no obvious reason, and the fourth got the stomach flu, I have vowed to never mock my wife's packing of the pails again. Now Gravol is on the "extras" list.

It seems like second nature to pack extras and be prepared. We were going to places with beaches; pack towels, beach blankets and beach toys. We were heading to a place affectionately called the Wet Coast; pack rain gear, which we didn't need because it was unseasonably dry. We knew we were going to the Rider game in BC; pack jerseys and temporary tattoos. We knew there might be complaints about sharing beds in some places; pack an air mattress. The list goes on of how we packed to be prepared.

How about spiritual preparation? We knew we were going to be in the van for long stretches, that our rental places wouldn't offer as much room as our house, that kids would get homesick, that kids would pick fights with each other (or with us in the case of our oldest), we knew the familiarity of routine would be gone (read my thoughts on routine here). Did we pack some extra patience, fortitude, temperance, justice? Did we think bring along more mercy and forgiveness (or, more accurately, pray for the grace to be more merciful and forgiving)?

I'd like to say, "Of course!" But I have to be honest. I got caught without packing a spare. I lost my patience. My fortitude waned as the end of the trip neared. Mercy didn't go out the window, but it hid in the curtains a couple times.

Thankfully, we have a God that has an endless supply of love and mercy and forgiveness. So when I did run short, He was there to forgive me and offer me the grace I needed. God has an infinite number of spares.

From now on, I'll have two rules when it comes to packing (three if you include pails), and one of those things will be to pray for an extra dose of grace to practice virtue in out-of-the-ordinary situations.

How do you prepare spiritually for road trips or vacations?

In loving memory of a maple

When it was over, I looked up to discover my wife consoling our sobbing five year old daughter. Our 12 year old's face was buried in her knees to hide her tears as best she could. The other two kids weren't crying, but the look on their faces said it all: "Did that just happen?"

Yes it did. I cut down the maple tree in our backyard.

Now before you get all Joni Mitchell on me and accuse me of paving paradise, there are reasons for the tree's demise. The people who lived on our house before us seemed to plan the yard based on how big trees and shrubs were when they were planted, oblivious to what things will look like when they grow and mature. I have had to take out shrubs that were planted too close together or too close to the house before and replace them with plants more appropriate for the area.

This small-to-medium-sized tree was already growing into a larger tree, and a couple years of pruning and hoping didn't change that fact. My wife and I had been discussing the tree's removal for a couple years, and we agreed that if was going to happen, it should happen before it got too big and we got too attached to it. Guess we were a little late for the latter.

I joined the rest of the family on the deck trying to console the kids and explain that it simply had to happen. It was not use.

"Where will we put the ladybugs?" This tree was their ladybug refugee camp when they "rescue" the tiny beetles.

"What about the birds? Where will they live?" referring to the waxwings that made their home in the tree last year.

The protests and outcries continued.

"I love maple trees."

"That was my favourite tree."

Our 12 year old even sent me a text after she went inside, "Y did you u do it? Y Y Y?!" Just in case I didn't get it, she sent a second message with a maple leaf emoji.

When she returned outside, she mumbled, "At least you didn't cut down the climbing tree," before she scrambled up the tree like she was going to sit in it to protect it from another one of my barbarous acts. Part of me expected to see chains and a lock.

I have to be honest, I did not expect any of these reactions. But it didn't take long to realize that this tree, or rather the experiences this tree represented, are ingrained into the fabric of our family. It was, and always be be part of our family's story. All chapters of stories come to and end—some with laughter, some with tears. All create bonds that bring our family together and give us the shared experiences that is family, that is life.

Farewell little maple tree. Thank you for the memories you have brought our family.

Public displays of affection

Love is in the air this time of year. It's not quite time to be twitterpated, but Cupid's arrows will fly again this February on Valentine's Day, the one day of the year most dedicated to love—if you consider a commercially manufactured over-materialistic guilt-you-into-expressing-your-love-for-your-wife-day a day dedicated to love.

Whether you fully endorse or merely tolerate the commercial aspect of Valentine's Day, it's undeniably a day you will see all sorts of public displays of affection (a.k.a. PDA). From hand holding, to sweet pecks on the cheek, to get-a-room-style making out, to flower deliveries, to proposals over romantic dinners—we'll likely see it all on February 14.

I fully endorse public displays of affection, within limits, of course. Prudence is a virtue that is sometimes lost when it comes to PDA. I'm especially a pro-PDA advocate around the house in front of the kids. Why? Well, there's the obvious expression of attraction to my wife: her long hair, her beautiful eyes, her soft... ahem, where was I?

There's also the perk of getting an emphatic "Ewww!" from the kids as they attempt to avert their eyes from the horror of seeing their parents kiss, which becomes somewhat of a game.

Most of all, I promote PDAs around the house because I want our home to be one in which physical expressions of love in proper context—like the covenant of marriage—are seen as both normal and important.

I think Jesus would agree. The mystery of the incarnation—God becoming man—demonstrates that our physical nature is important and worth redeeming. Jesus gave us sacraments—physical signs and experiences of his love and grace. Marriage is a sacrament and requires an appropriate physical expression of love between husband and wife. And I think it's important my children learn that it's normal and healthy for their parents to physically express the love they have for each other, which naturally spills-over to the children.

Of course, the physical expression is an outward sign of something deeper, a reflection of Christ and his bride, the Church. Maybe that's another post for another time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to gross-out my kids.

Why I don't do New Year's resolutions

New Year's resolutions—bah humbug to them!

I never understood the point of New Year's resolutions. It seems kinda arbitrary. Oh, the year is ending; I'd better decide to change a part of my life for the better. Why only do that on January 1?

Sure, making healthier diet and exercise choices is timely after doing the holiday food decathlon. But is that really a resolution? Or is it more of a decision to get back on track after a brief gluttonous stint?

Instead of making one choice on on one day, I prefer to make (try to make) incremental improvements throughout the year. If, through reflection, or by my wife asking, "Do you really need that mixing bowl full of ice cream?", to which my answer is, "Pass the chocolate syrup," I realize a need to change something for the better, I prefer to do it sooner rather than later. Well, after the bowl of ice cream anyway.

If, through an examination of conscience, I see a need to shed a vice and strive for virtue, I needn't wait for the calendar to change. As St. Paul said, now is the acceptable time (cf 1 Cor 6:2). Now is the acceptable time to respond to St. Pope John Paul II's universal call to holiness so that we may become perfect images of God (cf Mt 5:48).

If you insist on making a New Year's resolution. I hope you stick to it. Better yet, I hope you make several resolutions to be a better spouse, parent, co-worker, etc. many times throughout the year.

Have a blessed New Year, one and all.