A Happy Family

The hiatus from blogging about the family has been intentional. And not. Time away from home, and a return to the office with an unusually busy workload prevented me from writing. That's okay, though.

We took off last weekend for a getaway. Away from the house, with all the paperwork, the cleaning, the maintenance projects, the routines. Away from the calendar of activities that we don't necessarily need to be engaged in. Away from the phone. Away from the neighborhood friends, as much as my kids enjoy playing with them. Away, even, from our own church.

We thoroughly enjoyed being in a little guest house in the middle of farmland, with beautiful views, isolation, quiet and no demands. We played some games, put a puzzle together, ate convenience foods, watched some videos, and slept in late.

We visited some friends.

We went to Easter service at one of the churches in town. We stayed afterward for their annual Easter pancake breakfast. Returning to "the farm," we had fun with an Easter egg hunt in the huge yard.

We drove home through a beautiful canon, saw some mountain goats, and listened to a good book on tape. We arrived home and had leftover pizza for dinner. Took some baths. Started some laundry. Dropped into bed, tired, a good tired.

We were glad to be a family last weekend. It was wonderful.

Moments to Savor

It was a mini-milestone for our 20 month-old son. Spurred by envy, he actively pursued time sitting in my lap. I had just started to read to his six year-old sister, and as we got into the meat of "a million cats," the little boy pushed his way past Big Sister and crawled into place, a little board book in hand. I asked if Big Sis would mind me taking a moment to attend to him, knowing that his attention span would be only a minute or two, and she quickly agreed. Bless her!

Sure enough, his interest waned rather quickly, and he slid down onto the floor. Time to tear into the tinker toys. The crate has a bunch of 'em, and he is usually content scattering them across the room. So, Sis and I picked up the story about cats, right where we left off. After a minute, though, we were again interrupted. Lil' bro was communicating, albeit using nonverbals. It became clear that he now wanted me to help him put some of the tinker toys together. Pushing the limits of a six year-old's understanding and patience, I asked her to once more consider waiting to finish the dramatic story of a million, a billion, a trillion cats for a moment or two. "Okay!" A quick reply, and I could only thank the Lord for her willingness to delay gratification in favor of her brother's interests.

I sat on the floor and helped the boy put some straight purple and blue sticks onto the blue, orange, yellow and green circles. Some of the circular connectors were split in half, testament to heavy use by the children. One of the circles had a string tied to it, so I fashioned a little mobile by putting some other pieces onto it. I spun it around, and little eyes lit up. He liked that, and took a turn making it twirl in the air.

As he moved onto some other interest, as a toddler is wont to do, I turned back to the cats. Ah, as she waited for me, Big Sis had played with the tinker toys. She made a couple of faucets, and demonstrated to me how they worked. Complete with sound effects. I smiled, grateful for her creativity. Thankful for her patience and love for that little boy. And, despite my personal dislike of the creatures, happy to read about cats to my darling daughter. And oh-so-glad for the time with a toddler. Cannot replace those memories. A couple of moments to savor. Thanks, Lord.

Teaching Children US History

For many years I've been aware of David Barton, who works tirelessly to show the historical tradition of faith in the public square. His organization, WallBuilders is "dedicated to presenting America's forgotten history and heroes, with an emphasis on the moral, religious, and constitutional foundation on which America was built — a foundation which, in recent years, has been seriously attacked and undermined."

Barton's goals include (1) educating the nation concerning the Godly foundation of our country; (2) providing information to federal, state, and local officials as they develop public policies which reflect Biblical values; and (3) encouraging Christians to be involved in the civic arena.

Recently we watched a DVD about the founders of our country and the deep faith in God that many of them clearly professed. It was fascinating stuff.

You need to know about this man's life work. Learn more about resources and tools here.

Purpose in Life

Took my oldest out for our weekly "Bagel and Bible" time. We're just finishing up Rick Warren's "Purpose Driven Life" and have found it to be a good springboard for conversation. At 16 years of age, my son can easily track the big themes of the book, and while he does not yet have some of the life experiences which would make for a more complete understanding of some of Mr. Warren's points and application, there is enough there to help make sense of the overarching messages.

Our talk time was interrupted, and for a good reason. Dave is a fellow I've seen and chatted with on numerous occasions while at this bagel shop. After his morning workout, he stops by for some breakfast, coffee, quiet time. Today he showed us some photos of the vacation home he is building. Beautiful location overlooking the mountains, and he intends to let friends and others use the house as a restful, meditative getaway. His purpose is to offer up this labor of love as a place of refreshment and spiritual renewal. While he could probably make some money for such a service, Dave and his wife aim to provide this at no charge. We talked about his heart to help others, and it is a heart the size of Texas. He has his life's purpose figured out. We really enjoyed the conversation.

On the way home, my son and I replayed what we'd heard. Dave has a wonderful ministry, to his co-workers, to his customers, to the gals behind the counter at the bagel shop. He is an extrovert who wants to meet people's needs for being loved and known. He is living out his faith in a genuine - and gentle - way, not banging folks over the head with Bible verses, just engaging them in real conversations, trying to offer an encouraging word. In a few months he'll even be able to make it possible for that exhausted single mom he meets to get away from it all for a weekend by going up to his vacation home with her kids, to escape the routine and phones and city, to look out at the mountains and get a bigger view of life and its problems.

I like Dave, and I know God will continue to use him. He is on a mission! I'm glad he came by for his bagel and coffee this morning, glad we could talk. It was a good lesson for my son to listen in on…because I'll be very happy if he follows Dave's example and lives his life for others. If he has a purpose driven life.

Apply Yourself

In grade school I was like many (most?) boys: a bit on the lazy side. Not that I was a bad student, mind you. I could have done better, though. Whenever my parents had their conference with my teacher, they usually heard some perspective like this: "John could do really well, if he would only apply himself."

Well, I finally did learn to apply myself - so some degree - by high school. My grades were good enough, and I had some measure of self-discipline. I found some gratification in doing well, and that helped prepare the way for college.

The first two years at college were within a fairly safe environment. The school was small, and the framework from which we were taught was from a Christian perspective. My biggest challenge, mentally, was a medical ethics course in which I learned to grapple with the gray areas of life. It was a stretch for me, and to this day I am still unsure as to where, exactly, the professor was trying to take us. My lessons in "applying" myself were paying off.

Transferring to another college had a more dramatic impact upon me, especially upon my spiritual life. An art school can be a very unsettling place to be studying! While I had some good friends, I struggled some with the perspectives of the professors and many of the students. The worldview I had adopted a few years prior when I became a Christian was challenged time and time again. I ran into people who were not just apathetic toward Christianity, but were downright hostile.

Through this, I learned the value of applying myself to the task of being a "real" person. The temptation to be an "undercover Christian" was great. Why subject myself to harassment, to ridicule for being so…rigid. As a follower of Christ, I might have been branded a radical, or an out-of-touch weirdo, or worse. I had a choice to make, and I thank God that I was able to choose well, not shrinking from my spiritual life but seeking to prod others to consider their own faith. Fortunately, I weathered those years pretty well, and, in fact, think that my faith was tempered well by the experience.

The apostle Peter wrote to a people of faith, mostly Gentile believers, who were weathering some difficult times. They were pressed by a culture that was not willing to accept their faith, and which persecuted men and women who claimed the name of Christ. They endured hardships for their spirituality. In his first letter, Peter encouraged his readers to prepare their minds for action. He encouraged them to hold fast, but to also "apply themselves" to real Christian living, which required action. Those who were suffering were called to act in a manner consistent with their beliefs, and this meant that they had to be forthright about their faith. This in spite of a society that rejected their deeply held beliefs.

Today there are many across the world who are suffering for Christ. They cannot shirk their duty, to proclaim their Savior and to live a life worthy of His name. These believers must apply themselves to leading exemplary lives despite a hostile environment.

While I was never the subject of persecution, I left that art school with a better understanding of those with differing theological viewpoints, with a heart for the person who rejects the faith altogether, with a desire to live a consistent and authentic life of faith. I am grateful for the time, and for the grace of God which led me to "apply" myself. And every now and again I wonder where some of those old friends are today.

At 30,000 Feet

We’re at 30,000 feet, and the setting is…cozy. I am aware of one empty seat in the entire plane, perhaps there are two or three. For the most part, though, this aircraft is packed. One of the less pleasant aspects of flying commercially these days. And there are plenty of reasons to avoid air travel. This one, though, hits anyone taller than six foot or bigger than a middle school football player pretty hard. Sardines have more room in their little cans.

There are a lot of people on this plane to watch. To listen to. To be near, like it or not.

The woman next to me is a talker. She is engaging the fellow by the window in conversation, although it is primarily a one-way discussion. He offers an occasional word of acknowledgement. She, however, is doing the talking. Church, business, friends, housing, entertainment; she is covering many subjects. She knows a lot, too.

I am sitting toward the aisle, feeling especially cramped, as the woman is overweight. Profoundly so. Probably weighs 200 pounds more than she should. And that means she is spilling into my seat. Her leg is taking up a third of my seat. We’re jammed in here, and there’s precious little leg room, and even less elbow room. Still, I take up my little laptop and try to type, hoping I don’t permanently injure myself. Oh well, the flight is less than three hours. I can get up a couple of times. I’ll only type a bit. Mighty awkward, though.

Across the way, the gentleman pulls out his laptop. He fires up some videogame. What is it, Doom? Halo? I am not sure. Of this I am certain, though: It is a violent game. I watch from the corner of my eye as he searches through a dilapidated building, firing some sort of weapon at creatures that arise out of the shadows and race toward him. He shoots a lot, and seems to be successfully defending himself. I wonder if any child behind us is watching him exterminate so many so effectively.

Around us people are doing the usual: talking quietly, sleeping or reading. Some watch the in-flight “entertainment.” Actually, the show on the little overhead video scfreens right now looks interesting. How to vacation cheaply. The hostess revels in finding bargains, especially in regards to meals. She has some good looking food, and it is priced reasonably for a Colorado ski resort. Have to remember that place, in case I can hit the slopes again this year.

So here we are. A planeload of people, mostly ignoring those around them, careening 30,000 feet in the sky at 500 mph, bound for who knows where? At least 150 people, bound for probably more than 100 different destinations. We choose to fly because it is fast. Not because it is all that fun. We put up with removing our shoes, being screened at security lines, long waits on the jetway, turbulence, stuffed overhead compartments, stuffed passenger seating and “complimentary beverage service.”

Thank you, Lord, that I don’t have to do this very often. Thank you that I have never been on a flight that crashed. Thank you that I’m not hanging over my seat into the adjacent seat. Thank you that I am not trapped by the window. I have it so good.

iPod World?

There are 22 million of them, and the number grows by the hour. Men in their 60s use them. Teenage girls own 'em. Middle aged accountants can't leave home without theirs.

The iPod revolution. Yes! For those of us who have been long-time Apple users, this is indeed a sweet moment. Finally, the world gets it. At long, long last the consumers who have a PC-worldview are seeing why we have loved our Macs. The geek world, dominated (seemingly) by guys who revel in absurdly complicated hardware and bloated software, is taking the bait, making the switch. The countless folks who have fumbled and rumbled and cussed their way through a music download to that cheapo MP3 player are paying higher prices for simplicity. Ease of use. And, what's this? Fun? Computer stuff can be fun?

You bet. But Blogger Andrew Sullivan confesses he is one. And he is unsure that the iPod craze is reaping good for our society. While I don't always agree with what he writes, I think this is a fascinating take on the role of technology in our culture.

Read it here.

Long Embrace

Waiting to board my flight, I was cognizant of the children. Everyone was, really.

They were wound up and full of life, even though it was only 5:15 a.m. Looking out the window at the planes, which in the darkness stood like gigantic frozen insects, the little boy and girl giggled and exuded excitement. They were probably 3 and 5 years old, and reminded me of my own kids, 1,500 miles and two stops away.

Hearing their mother trying to calm them down a bit, and surmising that they were on a family trip, I smiled at the wonderment and enthusiasm of preschoolers. What child doesn’t enjoy the adventure of airports and flying? And who knows what they were going to see on this trip? Time with relatives, or an amusement park vacation, or perhaps a visit to another country? I’d be excited, too!

My thoughts turned to the upcoming three and a half hours. I wondered if I would have the “privilege” of sitting nearby these precocious children when we took our seats on the MD80. That’d be okay, I would welcome the reminders to my family and the expectation of seeing them later in the day. I was in the mood to be around children, even someone else’s.

As the boarding process began, the gate attendant made an interesting announcement, one I had not previously heard. “At this time we’d like to welcome our soldiers, bound for Iraq, to Flight 436 and invite them to board the aircraft.” It was then that I realized there were about a dozen individuals dressed in military fatigues scattered around the area. While I had overheard a couple of them nearby sharing stories, I hadn’t seen the others. Now they began to line up.

Something inside of me went out to these men and women. I wanted to stop each soldier and express my gratitude to them for their hard work and service to me, to my family, to our nation. Lately I’ve tried to do that, to show appreciation to the military folks I meet in airports and on planes. I smile and offer some affirming words. I tell them that there are a lot of folks across this country who are grateful for their dedication and sacrifice. I assure them that we know they are fighting courageously for our freedom and security. That there is far more success in this battle than is being reported by the mainstream press. That the majority of folks I know are behind them 100 percent.

I didn’t greet the soldiers. Instead, I was distracted by another scene. As I watched in them line up and hand the attendant their tickets in silence, I became aware of another dynamic. The little boy and girl were still running around, now unattended. Their mother was standing to the side, hugging her husband closely. They held each other tightly, and it was obvious each desperately wanted to suspend time and stay in that embrace longer. This was not an easy parting.

His fatigues made it clear what the man was doing. Returning to the war. His furlough was over. His conversations with his wife were too few and too rushed. His time with those precious children went far too quickly. The weight of leaving was heavy upon him, heavy upon his beloved. Oblivious to the emotion of the moment, the boy and girl chased each other around the chairs, while Mom and Dad grabbed one last moment together. Then, her eyes wet with tears, they tenderly said goodbye, and the soldier turned to get on the plane. To go to his job. Overseas. To war. To face uncertainty and danger. To say to his wife and kids, knowing that it would be far too long before he could see them again.

Sitting quietly, letting the emotion of the moment touch me, thinking of my own dear family. I thanked God for them. For the soldiers who were going back. I thanked Him for the men and women of our military who leave their spouses and children so I can see mine ‘most every day and night. And for the families left behind, I whispered a prayer…God please watch over them, keep them safe, and reunite them soon. Thanks, and amen.

For Future Generations

As parents, we want the best for our children. Our every effort is to guide them to maturity, to cultivate within them a good heart, to equip them with the best tools for success, to enable them to find their place in this world. As Christian dads and mom we also seek to fulfill the Scriptural admonition to raise up a child who will fear the Lord, and so we shepherd our son or daughter toward having their own personal faith.

None of us, though, can look into the future and see what the end result of our parenting efforts will be. The couple who just got home from the hospital with their precious little newborn baby is just starting a long journey. There is simply no way possible for them to predict where that road called parenting will take them during the coming years, nor to know with any certainty just what that cute little bundle will be like in another two decades.

It may be that when we finish the parenting process, at least the first part of it in which we prepare our child for adulthood, we’ll sit down and thank God for how well it all went. We’re happy with the way our son turned out. Or it could be that we’ll fall down in sheer frustration and ask God what in the world happened, wondering why our daughter rejected all we did and made such a mess of her young life...and asking if she will ever be able to salvage a normal life.

Of course, we are ultimately not responsible for the end-result of parenting. That grown child is really an individual on his or her own, free to make decisions – bad or good, to accept or reject the training we have instilled within them, to make whatever they choose of their life.

It is helpful to remember that our role as parents is to prepare the way, and then to allow our child to walk in it. Or not. We aren’t charged to force a proper approach to life upon our kids, only to make one possible. And the truth is that we probably won’t live to see or know just how that child finishes out their life.

In the New Testament, Peter wrote about (in chapter 1, verses 10-12) the prophets, who, like parents, really didn’t know how everything was going to turn out. In his first letter, Peter indicated that the prophets spoke about the grace that was to come to the Gentiles, but they did not understand just how God was going to save the world through His Son’s death and resurrection. The prophets foretold the coming of a suffering Messiah, and his future glory, but they were unable to distinguish when he would appear as a humble servant, nor could they grasp that his second coming would be as King of the world.

It is clear that God compelled His spokespersons to speak of that which they could not fully understand. They were to prepare the way for the coming of the Christ. They told of that which they could not understand, nor would they live to see the blessed Messiah’s arrival. They knew they were appointed for a time, but not privileged to participate in that which they spoke about. They would not live to see how you and I have benefited from God’s gift of salvation and how we are living out our lives in light of His grace.

In a sense, parents and prophets are very much alike. We are given a role to prepare the way, and then to step back and let the future generations make something of our work. We may not – we probably won’t – see the true end product. We cannot control what those who come behind us will do, how they will choose. Yet we strive with everything in us to provide them with what they need. We do this, not to serve ourselves, but to serve them. And their children’s children.

Here’s to work that will last a long, long time…for future generations.