The girls and I have a race every time I leave the house. I get in my car and they position themselves on the sidewalk. I roll down my window and yell, "Go!" We then race up the street to the corner. I usually rev the engine and pretend to be grasping the wheel for all its worth. I don't usually win, but its always close.
Today when I left after lunch, my oldest daughter was the only one outside. We began our race and about half way up the sidewalk she started tanking it. I slowed down and then gunned the engine a bit to try and encourage her. She just smiled and WALKED up the sidewalk with a grin on her face.
When she finally got to the corner I made a comment that I had won. She looked at me like I was the sweetest thing on earth as she said, "You know Daddy, I told the other girls just the other day that we need to let you win once in a while."
Pitied by a seven year old, ouch!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Some Days Need a Pile of Leaves
I remember when I was young we would pile up all the leaves in the yard and then race across the yard and dive into the pile. We would laugh and wrestle and throw leaves at each other. In those moments there was nothing else...no tests, no bullies, no chores, nothing that steals the innocence of childhood.
So, I am glad when I can pile up the leaves in our yard and jump in the pile with the kids. Enjoy the video of the girls...my son is too big to wrestle into the pile AND take video at the same time! Sorry, no sound but you can imagine...
So, I am glad when I can pile up the leaves in our yard and jump in the pile with the kids. Enjoy the video of the girls...my son is too big to wrestle into the pile AND take video at the same time! Sorry, no sound but you can imagine...
Surprize!
Friday, October 24, 2008
"They always seemed like such nice people."
Do you ever get the idea that the only difference between you and the parent who is escorted with handcuffs past the mob of onlooking media ghouls to the waiting police cruiser is simply chance? There are days...
Today for example. My bride and I were in the living room. She had just finished a trip to the grocery store and had melted into the love seat. (if you have ever shopped and stocked groceries for a family of 7 you understand) I was on the couch finishing up one of my papers for ordination. Our youngest was the only child left among us - no, we didn't kill them, they were in bed sleeping...peacefully.
The eight month old was on the floor crawling around. She was done exploring the living room and had moved on to the dining room. She had been brought back multiple times already. Her mom and I exchanged, "can you see the baby?" and we took turns retrieving her.
At one point I looked up and couldn't see her. I went to the dining room, not there, the kitchen, not there either, the laundry room, nope. To be completely honest I was beginning to get a little concerned. I mean really, how do you explain to family and friends that you lost one of your children?
I found her soon enough, at the top of the stairs. She is our fifth child and this is no great surprise that she figured out the stairs, but there are two things that concern me. First, that she got up there so quickly and quietly. The other kids played around on the bottom steps until they were comfortable and then moved on to the higher levels. Not this time, straight to the top on the first try.
Second, is that this staircase is made of hardwood. It is really quite beautiful; ornate and detailed craftsmanship, built in china cabinet, the works! But it is also quite dangerous. And there was the baby on the landing looking over the edge as I came up to retrieve her.
This picture has nothing to do with the story. I have thought about the fact that I don't have any pictures on my blog so I thought I'd give it a try. I think he's a nice looking dog. Do you think he's a retriever?
So, I rescued the youngster and all is well. I just thought of how easily we could have been that strung out family on the evening news that let their baby fall down the steps and break her arm or leg, or worse. But I don't dwell on it long - really it would drive you crazy. I thank God that he watches over my kids when I don't or can't.
The irony of all of this could have been that the subject of my paper that I was distracted by was healing! Ok, it's late and I'm going to bed.
Today for example. My bride and I were in the living room. She had just finished a trip to the grocery store and had melted into the love seat. (if you have ever shopped and stocked groceries for a family of 7 you understand) I was on the couch finishing up one of my papers for ordination. Our youngest was the only child left among us - no, we didn't kill them, they were in bed sleeping...peacefully.
The eight month old was on the floor crawling around. She was done exploring the living room and had moved on to the dining room. She had been brought back multiple times already. Her mom and I exchanged, "can you see the baby?" and we took turns retrieving her.
At one point I looked up and couldn't see her. I went to the dining room, not there, the kitchen, not there either, the laundry room, nope. To be completely honest I was beginning to get a little concerned. I mean really, how do you explain to family and friends that you lost one of your children?
I found her soon enough, at the top of the stairs. She is our fifth child and this is no great surprise that she figured out the stairs, but there are two things that concern me. First, that she got up there so quickly and quietly. The other kids played around on the bottom steps until they were comfortable and then moved on to the higher levels. Not this time, straight to the top on the first try.
Second, is that this staircase is made of hardwood. It is really quite beautiful; ornate and detailed craftsmanship, built in china cabinet, the works! But it is also quite dangerous. And there was the baby on the landing looking over the edge as I came up to retrieve her.
This picture has nothing to do with the story. I have thought about the fact that I don't have any pictures on my blog so I thought I'd give it a try. I think he's a nice looking dog. Do you think he's a retriever?
So, I rescued the youngster and all is well. I just thought of how easily we could have been that strung out family on the evening news that let their baby fall down the steps and break her arm or leg, or worse. But I don't dwell on it long - really it would drive you crazy. I thank God that he watches over my kids when I don't or can't.
The irony of all of this could have been that the subject of my paper that I was distracted by was healing! Ok, it's late and I'm going to bed.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Good Morning
Today I was downstairs in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. As I slipped on my shoes I heard little footsteps in the hallway upstairs. I knew before she came down that it was my second youngest (she's the early riser of the clan). She came down the steps and headed for the living room, the opposite direction of where I was in the kitchen. I followed and stopped in the dining room watching as she scanned the room. I waited patiently as she turned and eventually found me waiting for her.
I lifted her into my arms and held her as we whispered 'good mornings' and 'I love yous'. Then I carried her to the chair in the living room and sat with her as we talked about her coming day. She talked of breakfast, clothes and hullabaloo (gotta love the 4 year olds).
As she talked, I noticed her sore lip. She has taken to sucking on her top lip and it gets chapped. I put some salve on her lip, which was apparently bothering me more than her. We then continued our talk as she contemplated her plans for the day. After another long hug I left for work.
As I drove I thought about how the morning's encounter with my daughter mirrors what God desires from us. He stands watching and waiting for us as we begin our day and scan our surroundings; will we look for our Father or continue on our own agenda? If we seek him we will find him waiting, and he will hold us tightly as we whisper to his ear. He wants to know what we are looking forward to and how we will spend our day.
I also thought of how God cares for us. Just like my daughter's chapped lip, God notices what we need healing from. Sometimes we know too, but I think more often the healing we need we are oblivious to, but he applies the salve that is needed.
We serve a mighty God. He is our creator, our redeemer, our counselor, our healer...and he is our father. And He desires to be a part of our existence.
I lifted her into my arms and held her as we whispered 'good mornings' and 'I love yous'. Then I carried her to the chair in the living room and sat with her as we talked about her coming day. She talked of breakfast, clothes and hullabaloo (gotta love the 4 year olds).
As she talked, I noticed her sore lip. She has taken to sucking on her top lip and it gets chapped. I put some salve on her lip, which was apparently bothering me more than her. We then continued our talk as she contemplated her plans for the day. After another long hug I left for work.
As I drove I thought about how the morning's encounter with my daughter mirrors what God desires from us. He stands watching and waiting for us as we begin our day and scan our surroundings; will we look for our Father or continue on our own agenda? If we seek him we will find him waiting, and he will hold us tightly as we whisper to his ear. He wants to know what we are looking forward to and how we will spend our day.
I also thought of how God cares for us. Just like my daughter's chapped lip, God notices what we need healing from. Sometimes we know too, but I think more often the healing we need we are oblivious to, but he applies the salve that is needed.
We serve a mighty God. He is our creator, our redeemer, our counselor, our healer...and he is our father. And He desires to be a part of our existence.
"I will be a father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty."
II Corinthians 6:18
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Just Like My Father
We watched the play-in game between the Twins and White Sox last night. The family was together (except the oldest who was working) watching our beloved Twins. It was a really good game; great pitching, tough defense with a play at the plate, and one home run. We weren't excited about the outcome (Sox won 1-0), but it was still a great game.
After the game we were pulling ourselves off the couch to get the kids into bed. My six year old hopped off my lap and then exclaimed, "I didn't want those stinkin' white sox to win...oh well, there's always next year."
When I stopped smiling, I started to think. Neither my wife nor I had commented to her about the outcome of the game. We had not coached her to call the other team names or lamented that the Twins were indeed done for the year. She had picked all of this out of our conversations before the game. (the "stinkin" part comes from her mother!)
Again, I learn about God through my children. His desire for us is that we become more like him. There are times when we are coached on what to do and say through Scripture. There are other times though when our behavior emulates that of our Father in Heaven simply through the time we spend with Him. Just like my daughter sounds like her mother and me because she hangs out with us...we will sound like our Father the more we hang with Him.
After the game we were pulling ourselves off the couch to get the kids into bed. My six year old hopped off my lap and then exclaimed, "I didn't want those stinkin' white sox to win...oh well, there's always next year."
When I stopped smiling, I started to think. Neither my wife nor I had commented to her about the outcome of the game. We had not coached her to call the other team names or lamented that the Twins were indeed done for the year. She had picked all of this out of our conversations before the game. (the "stinkin" part comes from her mother!)
Again, I learn about God through my children. His desire for us is that we become more like him. There are times when we are coached on what to do and say through Scripture. There are other times though when our behavior emulates that of our Father in Heaven simply through the time we spend with Him. Just like my daughter sounds like her mother and me because she hangs out with us...we will sound like our Father the more we hang with Him.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Prince Albert in a Can
Ah prank phone calls...a rite of passage that has somehow managed to elude my son. I picked him up tonight from his friends house and he was sharing with me some of what they had done this afternoon. He shared that they made a prank phone call, and I must admit that I was a little worried. I had visions of angry citizens waving their cordless phones as the police hooked my son up and escorted him to a waiting cruiser.
As it turns out, I've got nothing to worry about.
I will tell you the same way that I heard it...it just seems the right way to do it.
"Oh, then we made a prank call." (This is where I had visions of Red
Oak's finest, but thankfully I had the sense to keep quiet) "Michael was on the phone and we called the grocery store. We asked the guy if they had any sweet potatoes." (At this point I thought I might actually have the opportunity to learn a new prank, and quite honestly the little boy inside was smiling a little...alas, it was not to be, read on...)
"So then we asked how much they cost...Like $2.75 a pound. So then I whispered in Michael's ear to ask if they have star fruit. The guy says yeah, they were about 75 cents a piece."
"All this time Michael is talking in a phony Mexican accent. And he says 'Thanks, we'll be right there man!' And the guy was like, 'OK, see you then.' And then he hung up!"
And there my son stood grinning like he'd just put one by Solomon himself. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. On one hand I am thankful for his boyish naivety. On the other hand I am horrified at his comedic ignorance.
I gently explained the truth and timing of good old "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?" and "Is your refridgerator running?". It was encouraging to see the light come on and the grin appear as he realized the humor of the situation.
Always a teachable moment when it comes to parenting.
As it turns out, I've got nothing to worry about.
I will tell you the same way that I heard it...it just seems the right way to do it.
"Oh, then we made a prank call." (This is where I had visions of Red
Oak's finest, but thankfully I had the sense to keep quiet) "Michael was on the phone and we called the grocery store. We asked the guy if they had any sweet potatoes." (At this point I thought I might actually have the opportunity to learn a new prank, and quite honestly the little boy inside was smiling a little...alas, it was not to be, read on...)
"So then we asked how much they cost...Like $2.75 a pound. So then I whispered in Michael's ear to ask if they have star fruit. The guy says yeah, they were about 75 cents a piece."
"All this time Michael is talking in a phony Mexican accent. And he says 'Thanks, we'll be right there man!' And the guy was like, 'OK, see you then.' And then he hung up!"
And there my son stood grinning like he'd just put one by Solomon himself. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. On one hand I am thankful for his boyish naivety. On the other hand I am horrified at his comedic ignorance.
I gently explained the truth and timing of good old "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?" and "Is your refridgerator running?". It was encouraging to see the light come on and the grin appear as he realized the humor of the situation.
Always a teachable moment when it comes to parenting.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
My Name is Not Dad
I took my kids to the park tonight. Mom was hosting Bible study, so me and the kids spent the evening out. Dad's out there, let me ask you this: when you take your kids out without mom, do you get the feeling that everyone assumes that it's your night for custody of the kids...this is your weekly visitation? I hate that I feel that way, and I am not sure why I feel that way. I'll have to tuck that away for future therapy!
One more thing, while I'm on the subject of Dad's and kids. When you see me with my kids and my wife is not present, do not ask if it's my night to babysit. I am not the babysitter, I am their dad. I am fully capable; do not act so impressed, do not act alarmed, do not fear for the children's safety (mine, perhaps, but the children are fine), and stop thinking their mom ran off with the plumber!
Now back to the park. Three of the girls asked if I would push them on the swing. As we got to the swing set, Madison and Megan got swings next to each other, then a little boy took the next swing, and Sammy took the next. As I began to push, they started to call out for me to come and push their swing, "Push me Dad, push me!"
That's when the little boy in the middle started in. He was probably 3 or just 4. I hadn't paid much notice to him. It didn't bother me that he was in the midst of the girls, that's just what happens at play grounds. He was watching us pretty closely and then he started in too, "Push me Dad, push me!"
At first I just chuckled with the girls...they were pretty tickled that this little boy was calling me Dad. As I pushed him in his swing, I scanned the playground for his parents. I saw his mom with a guy that was obviously not this little boy's dad. (you just have to trust me on this one)
It was then that I realized that this little boy before me in the swing had called me Dad because he thought that was my name, not my title. I wasn't chuckling anymore.
I kept an eye on the little boy the rest of the time that we were at the park. Mom's new guy did not pay much attention to the boy. In fact, he seemed rather irritated that he was there at all.
The idea came to mind that the few moments that the little boy shared at the swing set with me and my girls, just may be the only "fatherly" attention that he will get this night...and quite probably many others.
As I called my kids to the van and we left the park for ice cream, I thanked God that he had given me a heart for kids...all kids, but especially my own. I cherish the time and influence that I have as a Dad. And I pray that God will continue to give me moments with strange little boys at the park. Moments at the swing set where we can understand each other ...maybe he'll understand that there are people out there who will smile and take a moment to push him on the swing, and maybe I'll understand all over again that God may use me in ways I never imagined.
One more thing, while I'm on the subject of Dad's and kids. When you see me with my kids and my wife is not present, do not ask if it's my night to babysit. I am not the babysitter, I am their dad. I am fully capable; do not act so impressed, do not act alarmed, do not fear for the children's safety (mine, perhaps, but the children are fine), and stop thinking their mom ran off with the plumber!
Now back to the park. Three of the girls asked if I would push them on the swing. As we got to the swing set, Madison and Megan got swings next to each other, then a little boy took the next swing, and Sammy took the next. As I began to push, they started to call out for me to come and push their swing, "Push me Dad, push me!"
That's when the little boy in the middle started in. He was probably 3 or just 4. I hadn't paid much notice to him. It didn't bother me that he was in the midst of the girls, that's just what happens at play grounds. He was watching us pretty closely and then he started in too, "Push me Dad, push me!"
At first I just chuckled with the girls...they were pretty tickled that this little boy was calling me Dad. As I pushed him in his swing, I scanned the playground for his parents. I saw his mom with a guy that was obviously not this little boy's dad. (you just have to trust me on this one)
It was then that I realized that this little boy before me in the swing had called me Dad because he thought that was my name, not my title. I wasn't chuckling anymore.
I kept an eye on the little boy the rest of the time that we were at the park. Mom's new guy did not pay much attention to the boy. In fact, he seemed rather irritated that he was there at all.
The idea came to mind that the few moments that the little boy shared at the swing set with me and my girls, just may be the only "fatherly" attention that he will get this night...and quite probably many others.
As I called my kids to the van and we left the park for ice cream, I thanked God that he had given me a heart for kids...all kids, but especially my own. I cherish the time and influence that I have as a Dad. And I pray that God will continue to give me moments with strange little boys at the park. Moments at the swing set where we can understand each other ...maybe he'll understand that there are people out there who will smile and take a moment to push him on the swing, and maybe I'll understand all over again that God may use me in ways I never imagined.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
What can you learn from a child?
I had to do something yesterday that I hate doing. If you have children you understand this. I don't know of anything harder than disciplining your kids. The girls were playing "marriage" and one of them had a small stick with leaves on it as her "bouquet". One of her sisters decided that she would like the bouquet, but did not want to wait for the toss after the dance. She grabbed the stick and started running.
It became obvious that she was not going to be able to keep the bouquet when she noticed her sister hot on her heels yelling for the return of her flowers. Rather than admit defeat and surrender the stick, she began to pull the leaves from the stick and tear them into little bits. Adopting the "if I can't have it, nobody can" plan.
I sent the offending daughter to bed without a snack (a big deal in her world).
Later on, when we brought the other girls up to bed, I went into her room to pray with her. Our normal routine is to pray and then we tell secrets and give hugs and kisses. I was not expecting much from the routine this night because she was still blaming me for catching her, rather than feeling remorse over her own actions.
We talked and I gave her a big hug as I told her that I still loved her and that nothing could ever change that. Our "secrets" are us telling each other something that we like. I said, "I like it when you girls don't fight." (I know, but you take whatever chance you get to make your point)
Her reply came between sniffles and sobs, and in the smallest little voice she whispered, "I like you."
I pulled her a little tighter and gave her a big, long hug. As we sat together I understood that this is like what God feels when we accept his discipline. When we understand that he loves us and his correction is a blessing on us. And when we can respond to Him with love and repentence, his heart must swell something like mine did last night.
My child, don’t reject the Lord’s discipline,
and don’t be upset when he corrects you.
For the Lord corrects those he loves,
just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights.
Proverbs 3:11-12
Thank you Lord for loving us enough.
It became obvious that she was not going to be able to keep the bouquet when she noticed her sister hot on her heels yelling for the return of her flowers. Rather than admit defeat and surrender the stick, she began to pull the leaves from the stick and tear them into little bits. Adopting the "if I can't have it, nobody can" plan.
I sent the offending daughter to bed without a snack (a big deal in her world).
Later on, when we brought the other girls up to bed, I went into her room to pray with her. Our normal routine is to pray and then we tell secrets and give hugs and kisses. I was not expecting much from the routine this night because she was still blaming me for catching her, rather than feeling remorse over her own actions.
We talked and I gave her a big hug as I told her that I still loved her and that nothing could ever change that. Our "secrets" are us telling each other something that we like. I said, "I like it when you girls don't fight." (I know, but you take whatever chance you get to make your point)
Her reply came between sniffles and sobs, and in the smallest little voice she whispered, "I like you."
I pulled her a little tighter and gave her a big, long hug. As we sat together I understood that this is like what God feels when we accept his discipline. When we understand that he loves us and his correction is a blessing on us. And when we can respond to Him with love and repentence, his heart must swell something like mine did last night.
My child, don’t reject the Lord’s discipline,
and don’t be upset when he corrects you.
For the Lord corrects those he loves,
just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights.
Proverbs 3:11-12
Thank you Lord for loving us enough.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
It's not vacation 'til someone throws up
I have spent this last week with my family. There is no place I would rather be. I love my job and enjoy the ministry that God enables me to do. But there is nothing like spending time with my wife and kids.
Our original plan was to travel down south and spend time with my mom in the mountains of Tennessee. For reasons beyond our control, and not all of them gas prices, that did not pan out. So we decided that we would spend some time around our own backyard.
Our week began with a trip to the lake. Some good friends of ours had rented a cabin at a nearby lake. Thier teenage daughter was celebrating her 17th birthday, so we went to join in the festivities. We pitched a tent in the grass, unfolded our lawn chairs, and slipped into our swimming suits. I love the lake!
Seriously, some of my best memories as a kid involve a lake, a boat, and skis. This week was no different. We spent most of our time being drug around the lake on a three-man innertube. Despite the bumps and bruises, and a broken blood vessel in the eye, it was fantastic! Thanks Joel!
We came home for a day, switched out our dirty clothes for clean, and headed out again. This time for the city. We took the kids to the family fun center - putt putt golf, video games, and sugary snacks! And of course there is the "ticket toys" that fall apart in the van on the way back to the hotel. Well worth ten bucks though. Then it was swimming at the hotel and a trip to the zoo before heading home again.
After we got back we took the kids to the car show here in own little burg. I like to look at old cars. I have never understood the desire to restore an old car - until yesterday. I saw the most beautiful car I have ever laid eyes on. A 1950 Oldsmobile 88 convertable. I looked online at some pictures when I got home and they did nothing to complement this car. They just looked like fixed up old cars. The one I saw was different, better somehow. It didn't look like an old car, just a great looking car, period. I'm going to have to check into that someday. Maybe when the kids are gone, and I can get one of those and a boat to pull behind it!
So today I was in the shower getting ready for church and I was thanking God for our week together. I even thought back to our vacations of recent years and considered the experiences we have had. Most involving puking children. No, really. Everytime we have traveled - anywhere - one of children gets sick. I can't explain it, it's just our reality. We are either pulling off to the side of the road, holding a child over a trash can in the airport, or passing a tupperware bowl to the back of the van.
This week was different. We went the whole week without any vomit. Well almost...we got to church this morning and my 5 year old said she felt car sick. She looked a little pale, but I really thought it would pass, now that we were out of the car and at the church. (visiting a friend's church even, not in the comfort of our own) Nope, I got her to the bathroom just in time for her to hurl into the trash can.
All in all a pretty clean experience compared to what we usually endure. Oh well, it's just not a vacation until...
Thanks God, for a week of rest and connection with family and friends.
Our original plan was to travel down south and spend time with my mom in the mountains of Tennessee. For reasons beyond our control, and not all of them gas prices, that did not pan out. So we decided that we would spend some time around our own backyard.
Our week began with a trip to the lake. Some good friends of ours had rented a cabin at a nearby lake. Thier teenage daughter was celebrating her 17th birthday, so we went to join in the festivities. We pitched a tent in the grass, unfolded our lawn chairs, and slipped into our swimming suits. I love the lake!
Seriously, some of my best memories as a kid involve a lake, a boat, and skis. This week was no different. We spent most of our time being drug around the lake on a three-man innertube. Despite the bumps and bruises, and a broken blood vessel in the eye, it was fantastic! Thanks Joel!
We came home for a day, switched out our dirty clothes for clean, and headed out again. This time for the city. We took the kids to the family fun center - putt putt golf, video games, and sugary snacks! And of course there is the "ticket toys" that fall apart in the van on the way back to the hotel. Well worth ten bucks though. Then it was swimming at the hotel and a trip to the zoo before heading home again.
After we got back we took the kids to the car show here in own little burg. I like to look at old cars. I have never understood the desire to restore an old car - until yesterday. I saw the most beautiful car I have ever laid eyes on. A 1950 Oldsmobile 88 convertable. I looked online at some pictures when I got home and they did nothing to complement this car. They just looked like fixed up old cars. The one I saw was different, better somehow. It didn't look like an old car, just a great looking car, period. I'm going to have to check into that someday. Maybe when the kids are gone, and I can get one of those and a boat to pull behind it!
So today I was in the shower getting ready for church and I was thanking God for our week together. I even thought back to our vacations of recent years and considered the experiences we have had. Most involving puking children. No, really. Everytime we have traveled - anywhere - one of children gets sick. I can't explain it, it's just our reality. We are either pulling off to the side of the road, holding a child over a trash can in the airport, or passing a tupperware bowl to the back of the van.
This week was different. We went the whole week without any vomit. Well almost...we got to church this morning and my 5 year old said she felt car sick. She looked a little pale, but I really thought it would pass, now that we were out of the car and at the church. (visiting a friend's church even, not in the comfort of our own) Nope, I got her to the bathroom just in time for her to hurl into the trash can.
All in all a pretty clean experience compared to what we usually endure. Oh well, it's just not a vacation until...
Thanks God, for a week of rest and connection with family and friends.
Friday, August 8, 2008
They're pants, they just shrunk to my knees!
I spent some time this week in Tennessee. I lived for three years in New Mexico, so I've been south, but this was SOUTH. This was everyone talking with a drawl, grits served with your breakfast, Bo and Luke Duke south.
Maybe you have experience some of the finer points of the south, but for me this was quite an eye opener. I would like to share just one experience from my week and you can see for yourself.
On Wednesday afternoon my mom and I were sitting on the porch, because that's what people do in the south, I guess. It's hot in the summer and activity just seems risky. We had already determined that we would go to church later on that evening.
We had enjoyed a few moments of quiet when mom asks me, "Did you pack any long pants?" I really didn't think much of the comment. Most who know me will understand my dress code. If I am not working and it is warm out, I'm wearing shorts. So at first I didn't think anything of the question.
Then, in the silence that followed, I started to get it. (I can be a little slow sometimes) I am swinging on the porch watching all of the campers walk by. These campers are all in high school, but no one is wearing shorts. They all have jeans (boys) or ankle length skirts (girls).
I turned to my mom and said, "I'm going to have to wear pants to church aren't I?"
Mom replied that it would probably be a good idea. I stiffled my rebellious tendency and told her that I do not have any shirts other than t-shirts. Although, I pointed out, the one I was wearing did say God on it! (a concert t-shirt from Chris Tomlin) She said she didn't think that would be a problem. As it turned out I was the only guy in service without a button down shirt.
So after I changed we went to church. Since this was mom's last time at the church, at the end of the service the pastor invited her up front. They talked together in muted tones as they gestured my way and, sure enough, I was introduced and invited to join her in front of the congregation.
The men were called forward and they proceeded to pray for her and her transition back to Minnesota. This really was cool - it always is when people come together in your support. Deffinately one of the best experiences of the week.
So after the service all the rest of the congregation is coming up front to greet us and say goodbye to mom. About that time the pastor's wife comes around and looks me right in the eye and tells me, "it's okay, I like Chris Tomlin too."
It's good to know that for all their conservative tendencies, they still have their manners.
Maybe you have experience some of the finer points of the south, but for me this was quite an eye opener. I would like to share just one experience from my week and you can see for yourself.
On Wednesday afternoon my mom and I were sitting on the porch, because that's what people do in the south, I guess. It's hot in the summer and activity just seems risky. We had already determined that we would go to church later on that evening.
We had enjoyed a few moments of quiet when mom asks me, "Did you pack any long pants?" I really didn't think much of the comment. Most who know me will understand my dress code. If I am not working and it is warm out, I'm wearing shorts. So at first I didn't think anything of the question.
Then, in the silence that followed, I started to get it. (I can be a little slow sometimes) I am swinging on the porch watching all of the campers walk by. These campers are all in high school, but no one is wearing shorts. They all have jeans (boys) or ankle length skirts (girls).
I turned to my mom and said, "I'm going to have to wear pants to church aren't I?"
Mom replied that it would probably be a good idea. I stiffled my rebellious tendency and told her that I do not have any shirts other than t-shirts. Although, I pointed out, the one I was wearing did say God on it! (a concert t-shirt from Chris Tomlin) She said she didn't think that would be a problem. As it turned out I was the only guy in service without a button down shirt.
So after I changed we went to church. Since this was mom's last time at the church, at the end of the service the pastor invited her up front. They talked together in muted tones as they gestured my way and, sure enough, I was introduced and invited to join her in front of the congregation.
The men were called forward and they proceeded to pray for her and her transition back to Minnesota. This really was cool - it always is when people come together in your support. Deffinately one of the best experiences of the week.
So after the service all the rest of the congregation is coming up front to greet us and say goodbye to mom. About that time the pastor's wife comes around and looks me right in the eye and tells me, "it's okay, I like Chris Tomlin too."
It's good to know that for all their conservative tendencies, they still have their manners.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Not like it used to be
When I was a kid we lived a neighborhood that was full of young families. There were about 15 kids within a two block radius. We had bike races aroung the cul-de-sac, played air guitar in the garage, and fought many a crab-apple battle. It seemed like everything we did was outside. Pong obviously did not hold the attention in the same way as PS3!
We lived near the edge of town and if we walked for about 15 minutes we were in a secluded wooded area. I don't know how many hours we spent climbing over fallen trees, wading through hip-high grass, and seeing who could jump the creek. We never really had a purpose, other than just hanging out and being kids - life was good!
Fast forward a few years. On Fridays I get out of the office in the mornings to study for my upcoming ordination interview. You see, actually I'm not a reverend - I really don't like that title by the way. I am a liscenced pastor and I am scheduled to have my interview in December. (I am sure those of you who really love me will be leaving comments about some day being a real pastor, thanks I love you too)
So yesterday I thought I would go out to a place on the south end of town that is secluded, wooded and has a creek winding through. I was walking along one of the paths and I noticed an area on the creek bank that had a log down and some stones that formed a "beach". I figured this would be a good spot to sit and read and pray.
I looked over the edge and tried to find a spot to descend. Most of the area was pretty steep. There was one spot where the rains from this spring had washed out part of the bank and it was not as steep. I summed up this option, noticed there was only one branch to duck under and decided it was doable. So I began to inch my way down.
Have you ever noticed how pliable 12 year olds are? They can run, jump, bounce, spring, tumble, and twist and never feel the worse for wear. They can even contort themselves in midair to avoid a disasterous fall. I am not 12 anymore.
I took about three steps down the slope - which was a little slippery, as packed mud tends to be. I ducked under the branch, took one more step and the next thing I knew, I was resting not so comfortably on the rocky shore of the creek below, safely on my backside.
The first thing I noticed was that I still had my coffee mug in one hand and my Bible in the other. Neither the worse for wear. So I picked myself up, made use of the creek to wash myself off, and found a place on the log to settle in; all the while thanking the Lord that I was in a secluded spot so that I didn't have to share this moment with anyone else.
I sat down and began to read. One thing you may not realize about me is that I am a little ADD. I am reading quietly until I hear the bird, and another bird, and a squirrel, oooh look a racoon track, and there's a dragon fly, I wonder if there are fish in this creek...and on it goes. I did get some reading done. But after about an hour of sitting on the log, I began to notice how uncomfortable logs really are.
So after the blood came back to my legs I decided to walk some more. Yes, I made it back up the bank without any trouble. But I would be lying if I didn't tell you that the thought of someone finding my skeleton clutching my mug and Bible did cross my mind.
As I walked I made an interesting discovery. As a boy I would run through the woods unhindered. But now as a grown up I realized that spiders string their webs across the paths at the exact height of my head. I was relieved as I came to a clearing and left the sticky arachnid strands behind. The bent grass from deer bedding down, the singing of the birds, and the fluttering butterflies almost redeemed the experience for me.
I say almost because at that moment I noticed a bee collecting pollen. I watched as he hovered from flower to flower - they really are quite graceful. That would have been fine, but the buzzing I was hearing seemed too loud for one bee. That's when I noticed another, and another, and another, and....well you get the point. I had obviously wandered too close to the bee's home. And while I did not get stung, I have a much better understanding of the fight or flight mentality.
I don't remember the outdoors being like this when I was 12, it seemed much easier then.
We lived near the edge of town and if we walked for about 15 minutes we were in a secluded wooded area. I don't know how many hours we spent climbing over fallen trees, wading through hip-high grass, and seeing who could jump the creek. We never really had a purpose, other than just hanging out and being kids - life was good!
Fast forward a few years. On Fridays I get out of the office in the mornings to study for my upcoming ordination interview. You see, actually I'm not a reverend - I really don't like that title by the way. I am a liscenced pastor and I am scheduled to have my interview in December. (I am sure those of you who really love me will be leaving comments about some day being a real pastor, thanks I love you too)
So yesterday I thought I would go out to a place on the south end of town that is secluded, wooded and has a creek winding through. I was walking along one of the paths and I noticed an area on the creek bank that had a log down and some stones that formed a "beach". I figured this would be a good spot to sit and read and pray.
I looked over the edge and tried to find a spot to descend. Most of the area was pretty steep. There was one spot where the rains from this spring had washed out part of the bank and it was not as steep. I summed up this option, noticed there was only one branch to duck under and decided it was doable. So I began to inch my way down.
Have you ever noticed how pliable 12 year olds are? They can run, jump, bounce, spring, tumble, and twist and never feel the worse for wear. They can even contort themselves in midair to avoid a disasterous fall. I am not 12 anymore.
I took about three steps down the slope - which was a little slippery, as packed mud tends to be. I ducked under the branch, took one more step and the next thing I knew, I was resting not so comfortably on the rocky shore of the creek below, safely on my backside.
The first thing I noticed was that I still had my coffee mug in one hand and my Bible in the other. Neither the worse for wear. So I picked myself up, made use of the creek to wash myself off, and found a place on the log to settle in; all the while thanking the Lord that I was in a secluded spot so that I didn't have to share this moment with anyone else.
I sat down and began to read. One thing you may not realize about me is that I am a little ADD. I am reading quietly until I hear the bird, and another bird, and a squirrel, oooh look a racoon track, and there's a dragon fly, I wonder if there are fish in this creek...and on it goes. I did get some reading done. But after about an hour of sitting on the log, I began to notice how uncomfortable logs really are.
So after the blood came back to my legs I decided to walk some more. Yes, I made it back up the bank without any trouble. But I would be lying if I didn't tell you that the thought of someone finding my skeleton clutching my mug and Bible did cross my mind.
As I walked I made an interesting discovery. As a boy I would run through the woods unhindered. But now as a grown up I realized that spiders string their webs across the paths at the exact height of my head. I was relieved as I came to a clearing and left the sticky arachnid strands behind. The bent grass from deer bedding down, the singing of the birds, and the fluttering butterflies almost redeemed the experience for me.
I say almost because at that moment I noticed a bee collecting pollen. I watched as he hovered from flower to flower - they really are quite graceful. That would have been fine, but the buzzing I was hearing seemed too loud for one bee. That's when I noticed another, and another, and another, and....well you get the point. I had obviously wandered too close to the bee's home. And while I did not get stung, I have a much better understanding of the fight or flight mentality.
I don't remember the outdoors being like this when I was 12, it seemed much easier then.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
And I Don't Even Like Taffy
When you have 5 kids it takes some creativity to find ways to get one on one time. Fortunately most of them are small enough to think that a trip to the grocery store is still fun. After some consultation, it was determined that the middle child was due for the salsa run.
At the store we found our jar of spicy goodness and proceeded to the checkout. I thought it might add to the fun to get the kids a treat for after dinner. I looked at the apples which cost approximately 70 cents a piece and weighed them against the foot long Laffy-Taffy that was 4/$1.00. I did what any responsible parent would do - yep, taffy all around.
On the way home we decided it would add to the fun if we didn't tell the other kids about the taffy until after dinner. I don't know if you've ever seen a five year old with a secret to tell, but if not, borrow someones child and check it out. I promise it will be worth the effort.
We got home and it took all of about 48 seconds before she announced,"I know a surprise!" I'm not sure which was more interesting; the five year old torn between the urge to keep the secret and the moral dilemma of not telling a lie, or the seven year old pumping her little sister for information. I think the sergeants at Gitmo would have been proud.
After dinner we distributed the now well known 'surprise' desert. I was sitting on the porch with the baby in my lap while the other three girls would come to have their wrapper pulled down to reveal more taffy. It was at this point that the foot long didn't seem like such a good deal anymore. While balancing the six month old on my lap I continued to pull on sticky plastic so they could get their sugar fix.
That's when it happened. Megan, the five year old, comes before me and she is chewing on the plastic wrapper (at least I think it's some kind of plastic - I'm probably better off not knowing). She hands me her gnarled mess without a word. So if you can imagine the state of taffy that has been chewed inside a plastic wrapper, all covered in a delicate layer of saliva, you know what now rested in my hand. Megan peered at me intently as I struggled with the wet plastic, which I am now thinking of putting around our house, that and a sprinkler and no one is ever breaking in!
As I freed the last of her sugary treat, she looks at me as only Megan can and remarks, "You're an expert at everything."
Well worth the 25 cents.
At the store we found our jar of spicy goodness and proceeded to the checkout. I thought it might add to the fun to get the kids a treat for after dinner. I looked at the apples which cost approximately 70 cents a piece and weighed them against the foot long Laffy-Taffy that was 4/$1.00. I did what any responsible parent would do - yep, taffy all around.
On the way home we decided it would add to the fun if we didn't tell the other kids about the taffy until after dinner. I don't know if you've ever seen a five year old with a secret to tell, but if not, borrow someones child and check it out. I promise it will be worth the effort.
We got home and it took all of about 48 seconds before she announced,"I know a surprise!" I'm not sure which was more interesting; the five year old torn between the urge to keep the secret and the moral dilemma of not telling a lie, or the seven year old pumping her little sister for information. I think the sergeants at Gitmo would have been proud.
After dinner we distributed the now well known 'surprise' desert. I was sitting on the porch with the baby in my lap while the other three girls would come to have their wrapper pulled down to reveal more taffy. It was at this point that the foot long didn't seem like such a good deal anymore. While balancing the six month old on my lap I continued to pull on sticky plastic so they could get their sugar fix.
That's when it happened. Megan, the five year old, comes before me and she is chewing on the plastic wrapper (at least I think it's some kind of plastic - I'm probably better off not knowing). She hands me her gnarled mess without a word. So if you can imagine the state of taffy that has been chewed inside a plastic wrapper, all covered in a delicate layer of saliva, you know what now rested in my hand. Megan peered at me intently as I struggled with the wet plastic, which I am now thinking of putting around our house, that and a sprinkler and no one is ever breaking in!
As I freed the last of her sugary treat, she looks at me as only Megan can and remarks, "You're an expert at everything."
Well worth the 25 cents.
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