There's No Place Like Home, or the People in it... Hopefully.

This has been a good week. I love the time of building relationships with the kids on this trip. Each one of them is so incredibly special and so individual. I love getting to watch them "get it" at just the right moment.

I watch and listen as several of the children in our group share highlights of the experiences without hesitation during church group devotions each night. The answers range from recreation to track times to worship. They seem to like their bible study leaders and staff who run other events in which they participate. It is fun seeing the first time campers get into the whole of it all without realizing it. All their fears and insecurities seem to be swept away in the excitement and newness of their experience.

Don't get me wrong, it has had its moments. I think some type of light has been left on in some form in everyone's room, closet, or a-joining bathroom. We have left my door unlocked or cracked each night to provide reassurance and immediate availability if someone gets scared [of course, Bro. Steve's snoring might scare them even more]. I noticed the relief on a couple of faces about the unlocked door even if they expressed no verbal relief in front of their friends [boys are funny like that].

Then there was the rainstorm that blew through [a couple of them, in fact]. I feel certain one of our boys was thinking of questions to ask just to have reasons to come sit on the bed and make conversation during the thunder. I also had two or three specifically ask me to check the radar on the weather app on my iPad [Of course, each one said they were checking for someone else].

I had one fella begin to cry during a morning quiet time and said he was homesick. We talked about it a little and at one point one of his buddies admitted he was a little homesick, too. I told them it was ok to be a little homesick and we were still going to have a great week anyway [truth is, I was a little homesick myself].

As the week continued, my own son became especially affectionate. He would clasp my arms and drape them over his shoulders and down his chest while standing in line in the cafeteria. He would turn around and hug me a few more times than usual, and would take my hand when we walk from time to time. He wasn't homesick. He was tired, yes, but not exactly homesick. What is interesting is I noticed he was not the only one to demonstrate similar behavior. One of our little girls has taken hold of my arm as we have walked out of worship and clasped my had as our group walked.

One of our boys was standing next to me and reached up to place his hand on the top of my shoulder. I thought he was trying to get my attention, so I looked at him to which he replied "Oh, sorry Brother Todd... I wasn't thinking right. For a minute I was thinking you were my dad standing there."

That's just it, though. They know they need the people that mean the most to them in their lives. What I find interesting is that in the absence of the authentic, at something as simple as a 5 day camp, they seek a substitute - even if unintentionally. I feel like I am a pretty good substitute with their best interest in mind; however, except for one, I am not the authentic person for them.

I can tell them they will be ok during the rainstorm and not to worry, but I'm not their mom.

I can reassure them that nothing will come out of the closet or from under the bed, but, I'm not their dad.

I can hug a neck, hold a hand and be a human play-gym if necessary, and certainly provide my shoulder to lean on, but I'm still just Brother Todd.

Two things are glaringly obvious. First, they need that kind of stability in their lives. All kids do. Really, all people do. That security, that trust, that love is complete reassurance and confidence building. It is also priceless. It is the kind of assurance we ultimately find untainted in our heavenly father.

The second is the issue of the substitute. If our natural inclination is to seek a substitute in the absence of the authentic, what does that mean for us spiritually? When we allow ourselves to move away from God in our spiritual walk, what will then be our substitute? With what will we try to replace God to comfort ourselves? In what will we place our safety and protection during the storms of life? If not God, who's arm will we grab to lead us through the crowd of mayhem and distraction?

Furthermore, what will we teach our children about these things? What are they learning through our examples and leadership? Moms and Dads are the substantial influencers of the home... and dads? We are to be the pastors of our home leading our families and children to the place of total security in God our father. We are their shepherd under God.

It is in our human nature to take measures to fill voids within ourselves, and two or more things will not fill the same void. Moms. Dads. If we don't do the the job to see that the void is filled with the right things, someone or some-thing else will. And there are plenty of people, philosophies, and things waiting to steal the hearts of our children.

51 Steps to Dealing with Other People's Baggage (part two)

It occurred to me yesterday [particularly through the gentle text reminder of a friend who is a faithful Chronic Deconstruction reader] that yesterday's post might have been a little, dare I say... whiny?

Carrying luggage up so many flights of stairs is really not that bad. The reality is that with a family my size, carrying everybody's stuff is a regular, daily ordeal; I'm the perfect man for the job. And the exercise? Well, let's face it, we could all use a little more of that, so essentially I am killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it is for the kids, and kids are extra special to me. In further reality, I am incredibly thankful to even be able to climb stairs, much less haul luggage in the process. But, the real issue is the issue of the heart, and my complaining reminded me of a story I have often told students in years past when they have complained over their service to others or mere inconveniences.

It is the story of a man who was born to a poor family in rough times. He was a good kid. He was obedient to his parents, grew up seeking and doing the will of God but was later picked on, teased, beat up, ridiculed, mocked and called hateful names. Most of the people around him had no concern for his heart or motives and yet he didn't let it sway him in his goals; he kept doing his thing. He never followed the crowd, and always had time for children. Still he was unaccepted and eventually he was killed... on a cross... to pay for the sin I have committed.

When I would tell the story verbally, I would often tell it dramatically in order to make the point that there is nothing of difficulty or misery that compares to the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

I have no idea how many steps Jesus took to move from his sentencing to the place where he was crucified. I have no clue how heavy the weight of the cross was he carried for his own execution. I cannot comprehend the weight of our transgressions and the wrath of God that pressed upon him as he took each of those steps. What I know is this, he did so. He did so faithfully. He did so willingly. He did so obediently. He did so painfully. He did so lovingly. Everything he did was a selfless act in order to draw us to himself and provide access to the father.

I was reminded of this as I was reading Philippians 2. It is all about being like Christ in everything we do. It is about not doing anything from selfish conceit, but humility of mind. It says not to look out for our own self interest, but also the interest of others. It reminds us that Jesus emptied himself and took on the form of a bond servant, and for us to do everything without grumbling... oops.

Well, no more of that from this guy. In fact, I reminded our guys about what it means to be different and challenged them to extend themselves in service to others through a challenge. About half of them took the challenge and have been striving to serve others above themselves.

Yesterday was a good day, and I am excited to see what God has in store for our group today.

The Flying Squirells

Yes, I know that is spelled wrong. That is the spelling that is currently scribbled into the dust on the back window of my van, along with "Chuck Norris on board". The Flying Squirrels is the self given name of the group of guys riding in my Van to Jackson, MS for Centri-kid today. I'm not exactly sure why that has become our name. There is a baseball team, a band, and even a pizza company in Seattle who bear the name; now, apparently, so do we.

Our ride was everything you would expect from a van of 4th, 5th, & 6th grade boys... complete with all the noises and smells. Right away I realized I needed ear plugs because they all like to talk at the same time, and in that game, the loudest one wins.

I heard more tough Chuck Norris jokes than I have heard in a long time [hence the Chuck Norris on board thing], and at one point our van was like attending a "STOMP" show with everyone attempting to bring rhythm from various objects. The cast of STOMP need not be worried.

When we finally arrived, we discovered the wonderful pleasure of climbing several flights of stairs to our rooms... 51 steps to be exact. I counted after having made several trips with other people's luggage. It is then that I realized a terrible flaw in the kids going to camp scenario.

Moms and/or Dads pack the suit cases.

Moms and/or Dads load them into the car.

Moms and/or Dads (or perhaps someone else helping) unload them at the church and toss them into the trailer.

BUT, when we get to camp and get to camp with 51 steps to climb, guess who can't lift their own bags up the stairs? Then, guess who gets to aid in the luggage transfer up those stairs? Todd and/or Steve. I am certain I will lose weight I need to keep this week just on the stairs alone.

At the time of this writing, all seems well. Our guys are in their rooms and, except for the occasional renegade wanting to play ding-dong ditch, all is quiet. I generally hate the first night of camp because it always takes the second day for everyone to be tired enough to WANT to settle down and go to sleep.

As for my own son... he is doing well; this is his kind of thing. He has taken in each encounter so far and really seems to be having a good time. I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the week goes.

Oh... THAT Parent

Ok... I have now lived long enough into adulthood and in the realm of parenting to realize there are times when I don’t just eat, but feast with all the fix-ins upon my own words. I’m discovering that choking them down is actually more embarrassing than bitter most of the time... I imagine the bitterness is removed through the sweetness of experience and, believe it or not, maturity.

I am in the midst of just such a feast - welcome to kids camp cafe.

I cannot begin to count how many times in my ministry I have tried to convince apprehensive parents that their child will be fine their first trip to camp. I have pleaded many cases and made as many different arguments before individual parents to convince, shall we say, extra protective parents that little “Joey” will be fine and should be allowed to go.

I have become “that” parent now - my kid can’t go.

My oldest is now technically eligible to participate in the week long children’s camp that our church attends each year. I say “technically” because he has completed third grade [the grade level at which this camp begins], but because he is a year ahead, grade-to-age, he is younger than his class peers. For this reason, we decided to wait another year before thinking of letting him go. He might not be mature enough is what we decided... unless one of us were attending as well.

Enter “that” parent issue number two - he could go if one of us were going.

Now I have become "that" parent who’s child only goes if one of us go along. The difference with me is that it has not been a conditional factor that I have leveraged over our student minister, just a factor in our decision process. There have been times in my years when I have had to seriously weigh the value of a student getting to go against the value of a particular parent NOT going - it is a tough call sometimes. I’m sure parents from over the years and trips past would say they weren’t leveraging anything over me either. Right.

As it turns out there is desperate need for another male sponsor to go on the upcoming trip to camp with our children. Guess what? It now seems that I am the only one able and willing to go along on the trip.

Enter “that” parent issue number three - now he can go.

Since I am now going, we are going to send him along; but, if he had shown no interest we would not have pushed it. After asking him if he wanted to go he said “sure, sounds fun”.

I brought the information about camp home the other day so we can both be prepared for the week... he has read over the sheet 10 or 20 times and proceeded to inform me of all that he will be doing [as if I am clueless to what his camp will be like]. It makes me laugh a little every time he brings it up. He is so excited.

I think he has memorized the typical daily schedule, and I know he knows what is offered at the camp store and the cost of each item. He has planned what track times he will choose and asked about other details not included in the information. He had Mommy fill out his forms immediately and has reminded me multiple times of the importance of filling out my paperwork and keeps asking me if I’ve done so. At the time of this post, the answer is still “no”, but it is on today's list. Each day since we told him, he has counted down the remaining days and told us he wishes we were leaving on that day - he can’t wait until Monday.

Though I wasn’t really looking forward to the thought of having to go, I am excited to be there for my son’s first camp experience. I’m certain this is the first of many trips together and also a first for me in a different role on the trip.

Now, I am a group sponsor.

Now, I am a sponsor/parent.

Now, I am “that” parent... and that’s ok with me.

I hope the next few posts will be committed to some of our experiences while we are gone. I am truly looking forward to the trip with our group and expect great things.

Preacher Friendly

“You can’t have friends in ministry” is what a former pastor of mine once told me. He was adamant on this point and though I still do not completely agree, I understand what he meant.

The people we serve and serve alongside are also the people with whom we strive to build relationships. Unfortunately, [and unexplainably since we are the body of Christ] the local church dynamic seems to sometimes get in the way. Can you really be friends with the preacher? Do you really want to be friends with the preacher? Some do, some don’t, and some are bipolar about it. It is the way of ministry.

I am thankful that although the aforementioned philosophy may be truer than I want, God has granted me with those I can truly call friends through the course of ministry. I have some, not many, with whom I am comfortable to be vulnerable. That feeling is a tremendous thing for a minister. After all, who ministers to the minister? Who preaches to the preacher? It must be those in whom trust and reliance is found.

I love the friends that look me in the eye and call me out on my stupidity. I love the friends who discipline my children as their own and me theirs without fear of misunderstanding - I love those friends.

I love the friends who talk with frailty and welcome advice, who listen intently and respond with love and concern - I love those friends.

I love the friends who share a meal and laughter follows, who aren’t afraid to laugh at themselves. I love the friends who feel right at home in my refrigerator and aren’t afraid to take the last coke or piece of cake - I love those friends.

I love the friends who can lie around and watch a show and don’t feel like an explanation is needed for the dishes in the sink. I love the friends who stretch out in the floor, grab a pillow off the sofa and feel comfortable taking a nap if needed - I love those friends.

I love the friends that hug my neck and say they love me and neither of us thinks it’s weird. They make jokes, they make fun, they make faces, and all of it becomes a lifetime of memories together - I love those friends.

I have been thinking deeply about my appreciation of friends developed over years of experiences and journeys. Those relationships are relationships that have been tested, tried and proven along paths of imperfection. Growth comes through love, accountability, and forgiveness. As time marches on and miles separate people, strong bonds remain and new ones develop.

I hope we all have friends that no matter how far away they move or how much time passes, to come together is like the moments of our closest yesterday with them – I love those friends.

I’m Glad My Neighbors Love Theirs

I like my neighbors. I really do. Not everyone can say that about their neighbors, but mine are great. The way our houses sit, the doors we each use most frequently open to each other. Very few days go by that we do not see each other in passing either coming or going. In my case, I have even come close to hitting my neighbor with the car as he walks his dog in the morning if I happen to be in too much of a hurry. He smiles and waves and has learned to stop several yards back from the driveway [I have also learned to creep backwards much more slowly].

They are the kind of neighbors anyone would wish to have. The kind that throws your paper up near the steps sometimes or collects the kid's toys that get left by the street, they also look after the house when we’re gone to make sure it is safe. I imagine if they wake up in the night, they look out in the yard and survey the area for anything out of the ordinary [that’s what I do when I am up late or wake up unexpectedly]. My neighbors make conversation in the driveway and tell us about their grandkids. They tell me about things going on in their lives, trips they take to the lake, or visits to the doctor. In the summertime we usually get tomatoes from the plants they grow and while we are gone they feed our dog faithfully and let her run around with theirs for exercise [I haven’t asked, but I think they even got her another flea collar in our absence – that was kind and thoughtful].

As great as my neighbors are in all those things, what I like most about them is how kind they are to my children. My children are terrific, mind you, but even terrific children have their moments. My children have chased my neighbors' cats. They’ve ridden their bikes too close for comfort near the cars. They’ve run through the yard screaming many times. They have picked flowers that weren’t meant to be picked from the planting pots. I have found them standing in the bed of my neighbor’s truck without permission. They have left their bikes lying on the sidewalk in front of the house. They have knocked on the door just to ask random questions and have picked [too early] as many tomatoes as have been given to us. And, that dog that gets walked regularly, they have run him down across two yards and a field to try and pet him from time to time. My neighbors are very patient with their neighbor's kids, for that I am thankful.

The other day I came home for lunch to find my neighbor in our back yard with my kids – all my kids. She was hot and sweaty, they were dirty and excited, and they were all working together to plant a row of tomato plants in our yard. She had gone to the local nursery and bought several varieties of tomato plants and enlisted my kids to help dig, plant, and water these plants. My kids were so excited. They worked for hours [rather, she worked for hours] getting those plants situated for growth. She took the time to tell them about each plant and the process for planting. She let them dig in the holes, and fill the dirt in to secure the plants. She told them not to pick the fruit until it was ripe and left them with an afternoon full of fun and memories that we will all have of that day.

When I was their age, all I can remember about the lady that lived next door to me is that she was grumpy, mean, never smiled, didn’t want people taking short cuts through her yard and threatened to call juvenile court when we adventurously dug a hole under her fence from our backyard. The only time she came close to being nice was when her granddaughter came to visit [she and I were playmates on those days] and she would give me a Push-up orange sherbet with her granddaughter – I am convinced she really didn’t want me to have one, though.

As mentioned in my first paragraph, my current neighbors are great, and I am thankful that in a world that so easily dismisses children as being in the way and more of a nuisance, she took the time and patience to look after mine and help them learn something new… and, perhaps they won’t early harvest any more of her tomatoes in the future.