Grandfather, Gentle Soul, You'll Fly

Today, my grandfather is going into surgery for his third knee replacement. It might sound like a common place thing, but today is a moment where the world holds its breath as one of its greatest adventurers makes one final attempt, one final excursion over war-torn water, through blood-stained skies. I've never seen John Ficklen as a man to simply accept something. For him to achieve or receive anything it must be through a crucible of unsurmountable distress. He was the Indiana Jones of my childhood. He's the archetypal symbol of undomesticated vitality and raw creativity.

I'm not sure if this disease is something that God has designed for my hero, or if it is something that my grandfather must decide to go through in order to see His face with sparkling clarity. He could easily have chosen to not get this surgery and just have that leg immobilized. Because if this surgery isn't successful, he will lose the leg. But you continue to grit your teeth, Papa. And the beauty of it all is that soon none of us will need legs to stand.

A boy threw a ball into the air

With all urgency and strength

He was not there

When it came down

If it came down

Concern never tripped him

As he walked back to the house

All he ever wanted

Was the chicken noodle soup

That his mother stirred

In her warm, red kitchen

What good is a ball in chicken noodle soup, anyway?