Bob Rice

Adoption Update

Thu, 11 Mar 2010 08:03:51 -0500

Thank you for all your prayers, and keep them coming! Some very cool things have transpired regarding our adoption.

First of all, we just found out that US immigration has cleared us for adopting Wisly!!! There was much rejoicing in our house when we finally got the call.

But... and there always seems to be a but... just this week Haiti is requiring that all children leaving for adoption need to have a Haitian passport. AARGH!

So the MC sisters are working hard to get a passport for Wisly, while Wisly’s name goes on a list the Prime Minister has to sign to officially let him leave the country.

How long will this take? Nobody can guarantee anything, but it seems like maybe two weeks. But I with your prayers, I know it will be shorter :)

Personally, I’m praying to St. Joseph that we can get the green light by his feast day next Friday.

The bottom line... things look good to bring Wisly home before Easter.

More immediately exciting is our friend Louis will be flying down to Port-Au-Prince on Friday, and he will get to meet the little guy and send us a picture. And the second that happens, I’ll post it here.

I can’t tell you how excited I am! Thanks again for all your prayers, and please keep them coming.

As a part of sharing in my joy, I will now post a funny video that someone sent me, which apparently the whole world has seen but somehow I missed.

PS. Thanks to all of you who took Monday’s poll on who I looked like. It was pretty much a three way tie between Steve Carell, the Oxy Clean guy, and Daniel Faraday (from Lost). So I really didn’t get an answer to my question, except “yeah, you kind of look like all those guys.” I can’t help but wonder if some of you think that all people with beards look the same. For my next poll, I’m going to let you choose between Abraham Lincoln, Chuck Norris, and Willie Nelson.

Who I Look LIke

Mon, 8 Mar 2010 22:22:27 -0500

So for the past few months, someone has come up to me and asked, “Do you know who you look like?”

My answer: “Bob Rice?”

“No,” they say, “you look just like...” and then say one of these three options. I was in Syracuse last weekend and a fight almost broke out among teens you couldn’t decide if I looked like Steve Carell or the Oxy Clean guy.

So now I ask you, my devoted readers, to settle the argument once and for all.

The Bridegroom

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 09:17:19 -0500

The room was ready. Yosef was not.
He ran his hands along the wall. It was smooth. He pressed the side of his face against it and looked from one end to the other. It seemed level. He moved to each corner of the room and pressed a block into each corner. The joints were square.
Yosef stood on his tiptoes and touched the ceiling. It was dry. It had survived the rains.
He sighed. He wished he had something to fix.
“Shalom, Yosef,” his brother said.
Yosef was startled by his voice. “Shalom, Reuben.”
Reuben smiled, revealing the missing tooth he lost when he fell of a ladder when he was fifteen. He pointed towards the cushions on the floor. “In my experience, the women care more about the comfort of the bed than the smoothness of the walls.”
“In your experience?” Yosef asked. “You’re only two years older than I am.”
“Yes, but you aren’t married yet. Compared to you I have the wisdom of Solomon.” He put his hands on Yosef’s shoulders. “But tonight, you will catch up to me, won’t you?”
Yosef tried to smile.
“What is the matter? You look worried.”
Is it that obvious?
“No, just… nervous.”
Reuben nodded. “Ah yes, well, that’s your own fault for not drinking more!”
Yosef tried to laugh along with his brother, but it was all effort. Suddenly, Reuben grabbed Yosef by the chin and stared into his face.
“What are you doing?” Yosef asked.
“Getting one last look,” Reuben said.
“Of what?”
Reuben let go of his brother’s chin. “I wanted to get one last look at my little brother. Because when a man leaves his bridal chamber, his face glows with the glory of God. It is never the same.”
That’s what I am afraid of.
Reuben beckoned towards the door. “Come, your bride awaits.”
Yosef took one more look around the room. Reuben put his arm around his brother and turned him towards the door.
“The room is fine, Yosef, it is time to go.”

Yosef walked down the street surrounded by his four groomsmen. Enoch, his eldest brother, led the way. Reuben was by his side, as was Tobias, the son of his mother’s sister. Hiram was at the back. Yosef couldn’t remember how he was related him, and often wished he wasn’t. They all carried torches and were finely dressed.
Because of the heavy rains the night before, their path was covered in mud. Yosef looked down at his white robes and tried to make sure they did not scrape against the ground.
Doors opened as they walked down the street. Quiet murmurs of joyful expression echoed around them. With every house they passed, people bowed and headed back to his father’s house for the celebration.
Yosef’s stomach clenched. They will wait outside the door until I come out and announce to them…
But would he say? Each groom had said something different at the weddings he had been to. His brother Enoch said, “It is consummated!” Too pretentious. Hiram raised his arms and said, “Let the celebration begin!” Too juvenile. Reuben just flashed that missing-tooth smile of his and the crowd cheered. He didn’t need to say anything—you could see it on his face.
What will they see on my face? Yosef wondered. He felt like he was going to throw up.
“What is the matter with you, Yosef?” Tobias asked.
Yosef was horrified that he noticed.
“He’s nervous,” Reuben said. “Leave him alone.”
“Nervous about what?” Hiram said. “Surely you’ve been with a woman before.”
That stopped the procession. Enoch turned around and gave Hiram a harsh look. “We’ll not have that kind of talk on my brother’s wedding night.”
“Yosef is a righteous man,” Reuben said.
“So am I!” Hiram said. “What are you trying to say about me?”
“Yosef is… special,” Reuben said, looking at Yosef. “Holy, even. A better man than me.”
Yosef was touched by his brother’s words. “Thank you,” he said.
Enoch pointed a finger at Hiram. “You—stay quiet. Come, we are almost there.”

They arrived at the house. Had it only been a year ago when Yosef came and talked to her father about marriage? They haggled over the price, but not much. Then he and his betrothed drank the blessing cup together. He was more intoxicated by her smile than anything the wine could produce. She was his.
But so much had happened since then.
“Are you ready, Yosef?” Reuben asked.
Yosef nodded.
“Then let us begin,” Enoch said. And the men gave a mighty yell. Yosef was glad they were so loud, for it covered the hoarseness of his own voice.
It was only a moment but it seemed like an eternity. The door opened. Six women came out, dressed in clean tunics of beautiful colors. And then…
He saw her.
She stepped out of the house, covered in a white veil. Yosef could not see her face. Her bridesmaids led her to him. Yosef put his hand in hers—and then realized it was covered in sweat. He wanted to pull it away, to wipe it on his robe, but it was too late.
She did not seem to mind. She held his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.
They processed back to the house. The streets were empty and Yosef knew why. The entire town was at the house waiting for the wedding feast to begin.
As he approached the large crowd, his eyes darted from face to face. Many heads bowed, most had knowing smiles on their faces.
But you don’t know, Yosef thought. You have no idea.
His groomsmen led him into the courtyard and the bridesmaids followed. All the conversations stopped and silence hung in the air. It was a silence of expectation, of excitement.
Then they came to the bridal chamber, the room Yosef had worked on for almost a year. Enoch opened the door and stood by it. Yosef swallowed and gripped his bride’s hand so tightly she made a small yelp. He quickly muttered an apology and relaxed his grip. Yosef led her forward into the room and the door was closed behind them.
He exhaled a deep breath. The lamplight in the room made the fabric seem alive. He stood before her and reached for the veil. This was a moment he had dreamed of. The unveiling. The moment of first intimacy between a husband and wife.
Yosef pulled back the veil and saw her face.
“Miriam,” he said.
She smiled. “Yosef,” she said.
His voice felt thick with emotion. “My bride,” he whispered.
“My husband.”
They gently kissed, then embraced. Yosef felt Miriam rest her head against his chest. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth. He opened his eyes and looked at the door.
“Are you all right?” Miriam asked.
“I was just wondering… how long should we wait,” he said.
Miriam laughed. “You’ve been to more weddings than me. How long does this usually take?”
Yosef shrugged. “I’ve never paid attention before.”
Miriam looked around the room. She walked over to one of the walls and ran her hand across it. “Yosef, this is beautiful,” she said.
“Yes,” Yosef said. He could not keep his eyes off the door.
“You are sorry you married me,” she said in a soft voice.
Yosef looked at her face and saw her eyes well with tears. What had he done! He ran to her and embraced her.
“No! No, Miriam. I am honored to give you my life! No, you are the most beautiful… the most wonderful…” His words failed, as they often did. He was ashamed to have made her doubt his love, especially on this night of nights.
She gently put her hand on his face. “So what is wrong?”
Yosef looked to the door again. “In a few minutes, I have to go through that door…” He sat down on one of the cushions. “They’re going to know, Miriam. They’re going to see it on my face. And then everything will be lost.” He felt close to tears.
Miriam sat down next to him. She put her arms around his waist and inclined her head against his shoulder. For a few moments, they sat in silence.
Yosef could hear the murmuring of the crowd waiting outside. There was nothing else do to. He had to face them.
I will say, “It is consummated,” Yosef thought. It will be a lie, but I must do it for the sake of my bride.
Yosef stood up and walked toward the door.
“Yosef?” Miriam asked.
He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to be distracted from what he was about to do. With reluctance he turned to her.
“Why do men look so radiant when they leave the bridal chamber?” she asked.
It was such a foolish question that Yosef did not know how to respond. She was so young, so innocent. Had no one explained it to her?
Miriam rose and she looked beautiful in the lamplight. She slowly walked toward him. “It is because they have expressed the fullness of their love to their bride. And that is what you have done tonight, Yosef. In a far better way than any man out there has. You have shown that you love me. You have shown that you love God.”
She was near him now. She reached her hand behind his head, gently pulled him forward, and kissed his cheek.
“Let that be the glory they see on your face,” she said.
Miriam turned and laid down on the cushions. She reached for a blanket, and just before she covered herself completely, she smiled at him.
Yosef turned and walked toward the door. His mind raced almost as fast as his heart. He thought of his father when he told him that he had found a bride. He thought of the first time she saw her in the courtyard of her father’s house, shy and beautiful. He thought of the night of their betrothal and the joy of their families. He thought of when she came to see him and told him she was pregnant. He thought of the angel that appeared and said this child would save the people from their sins. He thought of the glory of God that would choose a man such as he do be a part of something so sacred.
Peace and joy filled his heart. As he opened the door and stepped into the courtyard, Yosef could not help but smile.
And the crowd cheered.

Taking Prayer Off My To-Do List

Mon, 1 Mar 2010 09:35:49 -0500

Jesus told us, “Wherever your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” And the Catechism tells us that the distractions we face in prayer “reveal to us what we are attached to.” (CCC 2729) So what am I attached to these days? More often than not, it’s not loving God, but being productive.

I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire. I’m trying to find an agent for my novel. Trying to get the right paperwork to US Immigration for our adoption. Mixing a CD for this summer. Creating proposals for a new book. Figuring out taxes. Oh yeah, and then there’s that full time teaching job thing. And while I’m trying to accomplish these important tasks, there are these five little people who keep distracting me from my efforts and call me “dad”.

Sometimes I think I’m more of a human doing than a human being. I can meditate on my “to-do” list more than Sacred Scripture. I can judge the day, not by what God did in my life, but on how much I accomplished.

So this Lent I’ve been trying to do less. But I’ve realized that doing less doesn’t automatically mean I’m being more. I read a great book by Fr. Mike Scanlan called An Appointment with God that has encouraged me submit my to-do list before Him each morning, and that’s been pretty cool.

Like many of you, every day has different tasks to accomplish. But I’ve had a few common things on “repeat” on the list. I try to study Spanish every day. Different workout routines. Blogging. And prayer.

But over the weekend, I’ve decided to take prayer off my to-do list.

Why, because I’m not praying any more? No. Because I’ve realized that prayer isn’t a task to accomplish. It’s a loving communication with God. My problem has been that once I click the “finished box” next to “prayer” I think I’ve done my duty and I can move on to something else.

There are lots things I do each day that never end up on the to-do list. Do I have a check list for loving my wife? Encouraging my children? Being kind to friends? No, all these things come naturally because I love them.

A to-do list is there to remind me to do things I might not normally do and could forget if I didn’t write them down: article deadlines, papers to grade, do I run or bike today?

So I’m taking prayer off my to-do list in hope that I might pray more, might love more, and not treat my relationship with God as a task to be accomplished as much as a relationship to be lived.

This is my prayer for Lent: Lord, I don’t just want to do Your will. I want to be Yours.