The Boathouse

My grandparents have been gone from this earth over three years now, and many of their belongings remain undisturbed.  They were borderline hoarders, so there is much to purge.  There is also much to find and reminisce over.  The process is exciting, sometimes sad, and certainly overwhelming. 

It is impossible, now, to count how much time I actually spent with my grandparents.  Holidays, of course, but I spent almost every summer with them at their house - weeks at a time even.  Those weeks were spent full of adventure in a seemingly suspended state of time for me.

This week I opened my grandfather’s boathouse to begin retrieving his old fishing boat.  I’m excited at the prospect of using it with my own children to fish, eat snacks, and talk about life - that’s what it’s for, right?  

Nothing about the boathouse has changed.  The dirt floor still looks and smells the same.  The click of the padlock still stirs a feeling of anticipation of what is behind the door, and I still had to watch that I didn’t cut my hand on the jagged hole in the metal as the chain clinked its way through.  The hinges still creak in exactly the same way, and the light switch still won’t come on when you want it to.  I glanced around out of habit looking for any potential snakes and remembered Poppy once pulling one off the wall by the tail and launching it into the woods after swinging it over his head a few times.

It was surreal. Everything was the same.  It was the same cluttered stacks of items that would be sufficient to decorate the interior of your local Cracker Barrel.  Sickles, pick axes, old fishing rods, lanterns, metal buckets, tools, and stuff I’ll never know the stories behind.  Old signs and license plates still hang on the sheet metal walls, and the very water skis I learned to ski on are still wedged into the rafters along with those hideous, orange, “U” shaped life preservers.  

I’ve been in the boathouse thousands of times, but always following the steps of my grandfather.  This time… I led, as my children followed, and in an instant felt myself transformed from an excited little kid to the role of adulthood my grandfather played.  Suddenly I was on the other side of the same scenario I have lived a thousand times.  

I was trying to accomplish a project with children, my own children, around my feet asking about everything and wanting to play with anything.  My grandfather didn’t get in a hurry as he worked with us around.  He spent his time walking back and forth to retrieve tools and parts… I’ve concluded that that is the time he spent thinking about the task at hand.  At least I assume he did - that’s what I did.  I watched my own children tramp the same ground I tramped.  I watched them explore and ask questions about the same items I used to ask about.  I never thought about what might be going through my grandfathers mind, until now.

I think it was appreciation.  I think it must have been appreciation for life and family.  Appreciation for the ability to spend time with us.  Appreciation for time itself.  I don’t know if I will ever understand how he kept frustration levels in check, but I think I’m starting to get a clue.  I think those times he had me look for things that may or may not exist where diversions to allow him to do part of the task for which he didn’t need “kid help” - that’s what I did with my own kids.  I think the expected coffee breaks he would take throughout a project gave him time to think on a problem while I sat and enjoyed just being there with him.  I think the times an anticipated plan changed suddenly with him letting me help conclude the outcome was a technique to avoid the disappointment that things weren’t going as planned.  Again, something I did with my own just the other day while trying to fix flat tires on the boat trailer.  

I believe I felt what he felt when he engaged me, as I engaged my own.  I believe God gave me a gift to be able to get just a little glimpse into the perspective of my grandfather, and recognize for myself just a little more personal significance of my own life.  

Regarding such experiences, my mother often says “and the beat goes on”. She is so correct.  Children learn what they live, and I am now not only executing what I’ve learned, but being schooled once again by the impact of my Grandfather.

I miss them both so much, but the beat does go on.

I’ll take ‘Kids in the Class’ for a thousand, please…

When I was doing student ministry, I always had that kid who would pre-fill in the blanks of a lesson before or while I was teaching.  I generally found it annoying because that same student would come up to me afterward with a gloating spirit and announce how well they nailed it.  There is always one in a group, right?

My son is now that one, except for the gloating - I won’t let him get away with that.

My son attends Men’s Bible Study with me every Thursday morning.  When he first started attending he saw me trying to fill in the blanks in advance [yes, I’m aware of the irony and hypocrisy of my aforementioned disdain].  Anyway, we pre-fill the blanks together now, which makes it another father-son activity.  We sit down at the table and immediately start to fill in the blanks from a contextual conclusion of the the points while we wait for our pastor to begin and teach us through the outline.  Sometimes we nail it, sometimes we simply have a synonymic difference in the words, and other times we miss it all together.

At first I felt that I was leading him astray by not only letting him distract himself with the game, but outright engaging in competition with him.  After all, I know from experience how that can be a student pastor irritation, but I’ve changed my mind.  I actually encourage it now, and if I’m ever again in the environment where there is that “one”, I might just point it out as an example of learning and critical thinking.

Here’s why:

• First, it means he is reading the outline.  The blanks rest within the main takeaways that are intended for him to not only read, but remember.  He has to read them to fill in the blanks.

• Second, it means he is thinking critically and contextually.  He is using his own knowledge and frame of reference to deduce the possible answers before filling in the blank.  Thinking is always good.

• Third, he is listening and paying attention.  In order to “grade” himself, he has to listen for the answers and either feel a certain amount of credibility, or strikethrough his answers and correct them.  Listening and paying attention is what any presenter wants of his audience.

• Fourth, he is processing the information.  As the answers are revealed, he processes his conclusions with the correct answers contrasting his own reasoning with that of the instruction.  Processing is good because it leads to application, and personal application is what any Bible teacher wants of the listener.

As far as I’m concerned, my kids can be “that kid” from now on.  As long as they don’t become bratty and arrogant about it, they can pre-fill all the answers they want.  Now, if I can just get them to answer in the form of a  ___________ , they will be just like me.

My Resolution Revolution Revelation

So far, I have kept the New Year resolutions I made.  It’s January 30, that is a record!

I am especially excited about having kept the one I made to not yell at people.

I don’t yell at everybody, just the people I love the most.  Very few people have actually heard me yell in the way I am referring.  Its a yell of frustration or anger, and is usually in my house or car.  It occurs at times when my own frustration has mounted too high and I have not focussed on dismantling it.  

To be extremely specific, it mostly occurs when I have allowed time to get the best of me and I am yelling for everyone to get in the car or bed.  I can be VERY loud.  Like, causing the sweet little girls (and even boys) in my house to cry, loud.  Scary loud.  Let’s just understand that short of unexpected amnesia, my children will never be able to say “All my life I never heard Dad raise his voice to us”.  Nope, that ship has sailed.  They've heard it.  They probably need a T-shirt to commemorate the experience... or counseling.

It’s easy to say yelling comes with having children, especially as the family gets larger, but it is far more personal than that for me. It is reactionary.  It is also mostly ineffective, and a bit like the dad in “The Croods” - totally mindless.

This year I resolved to approach moments of frustration and anger differently.  I decided to take a mental step back, assess the situation, and keep my voice in check.  It has not been easy.  It has required much personal resolve and even more prayer.

It has come with significant accountability.  My kids know I have made this resolution.  I know they sit and wonder if I am about to pop, but so far, no.  On occasion they will tell me they think I am close and then follow that with an encouragement about the great job I am doing.  Sometimes they even say they would understand if I did yell at them.  I am starting to think they have made a secret challenge out of it for themselves.

What has been amazing to me [besides the fact that I have actually kept my resolution] is that my actions have redirected the actions of our home.  I have discovered that there is less yelling overall in the house by others, and the general intensity in the face of my kids' own conflicts or misbehavior has lessened.  That is incredible!

Actually, it’s proverbial.

• A man of wrath stirs up strife, and one given to anger causes much transgression. - 29:22

• A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. - 15:1

• A hot-tempered man stirs up strife, but he who is slow to anger quiets contention. - 15:18

• Make no friendship with a man given to anger, nor go with a wrathful man, lest you learn his ways and entangle yourself in a snare. - 22:24

Children learn what they live, and they will embrace for the themselves the things we simply tolerate.  I want them to learn the right things from me, and modeling is a wonderful teacher.  My kids may never be able to say they haven’t heard me raise my voice at them, but hopefully they will be able to say they remember the year I stopped doing so.  When they do, I hope they shout it as loud as they can.

I Hate My Job... sometimes

Sometimes I really, really hate my job.  My responsibility.  My calling.  My role.  Yesterday was one of those days... yet, the job must be done.

The job, the calling, the role, is parenting.  Being a parent is tough.  It is truly not for the faint of heart or the sap - especially when it comes to discipline.

I had to punish two of my boys; more extremely than a simple talk, sending to their rooms or taking something away for a while.  This was physical.  Yes, I am aware of the possible risk of publishing physical discipline in a blog.

Know this, we are spankers [you can say it like the Farmers Insurance commercials if you want - We ~ Are ~ Spankers! bum--bum,bum-bum,bum,bum].  I know that does not sit well with all parents, but I don’t care.  We are not abusive.  We do not punish in the heat of anger.  We use only a specific tool for the job - a paddle [not a belt, spoon, stick, water hose, inner tube, lit cigarette, etc.] all of those items have different jobs, and I do not use them to strike my children.  I know that sounds condescending and pointed; good.  I have strong opinions on various forms of physical discipline. 

Discipline is the point, of course.  The point is not to have an outlet to express my own frustration and anger, it is to correct and straighten my child’s incorrect behavior and understanding of what is acceptable.  Yesterday, I hated having to do that job.  I always hate having to do that job.

Two of my boys were disobedient with me to a degree that not only made me angry, but also seemed to indicate they had no care that they were out of line.  That is a huge problem.  It is one thing to need to modify behavior, and another thing entirely to modify attitude.  See, the minute my verbal instruction and cues are disrespectfully disregarded and then that behavior [and attitude] left unattended, a downward spiral of continuing disobedience and disrespect can ensue.  By itself, that moment of disobedience may be blown off by me as “no big deal”, but that demonstrates a lack of self discipline in me as a parent [and biblically you might say it also demonstrates a lack of love].  Over time that in itself "disciplines" them into an entirely different way of thinking.  As Barney Fife would have said, “you have to nip it in the bud.”  

We were 20 minutes away from home when I began my speech about how disappointed, angered and deeply bothered I was by what had just happened.  I could see it all over their faces, they knew they were in for it.

They knew that when we got home, they would be sent to their rooms immediately.  They knew they would sit their wondering what would be next.  Would Dad just come in and talk?  Would Dad take something away?  Or, would Dad come in with the spanking paddle?  

I guess to some degree I contemplated all of those things as well.  However, I knew.  I knew my step was to go in with the spanking paddle.  The sheer terror of that alone is disabling... for me that is.  It kills me to have to do so.  

I hate having to crack open that door and see a face change from hope to conclusion.  I hate seeing that instant when the reality of the next few moments sets in.  I hate the sound of the pleading, the crying, the begging for a stay of execution.  It makes my heart hurt.  Let me also clarify that these moments are actually pretty rare for our house.  There are many forms of penalty that we implement before and instead of spanking.  But sometimes...well, anyway.

I always know my plan before going in.  I also strike my own leg to remind me of the “feel” of the paddle and the sting produced.  This is a practice I have always done to reinforce and remind myself that it is the effect, not necessarily pain that matters.  That being said, it does hurt.  This form of punishment requires so much energy, and focus, and enough time to be correct in it.

The worst part, for me, is immediately following the punishment.  I dread what may come from the mouths of my children.  Are they going to scream that they hate me?  Are they going to declare that I don’t love them?  Are they going to weep in a pillow and refuse to listen to anything else I have to say?  So far none of that has happened.  None of those words have been verbalized.  Tears? yes. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth? Dramatically yes.  Grabbing and rubbing their own booty?  indeed.  Saying things they regret?  No, never.

They will will ultimately come to me, sit next to me, climb into my lap, rest their head on me, snubbing (mostly from fear and anticipation more than actual pain), and then... they listen.  

This is where it all comes together.  This is when the effect of mature parenting and discipline must take place.  It is at that moment when the full lesson of the importance of self-discipline, obedience, and love is fully reinforced.  It is at this moment when they see an authoritative, stern, focused, restrained, and loving father communicate the importance of good personal judgement.

I always tell them how important my job as their Daddy is.  I always tell them how much I hate having to punish them.  I always tell them how much it hurts my heart.  I always tell them how much I love them.  And, I always tell them that I love them too much to allow them to get away with whatever they want.  And then, there is repentance.  There is forgiveness.  There is restoration.  There is course correction.  And there is peace.  

Most times, one of the greatest opportunities to demonstrate God’s attributes to our children is in times of discipline and course correction.  After all, God disciplines us as well... because He loves us too much to not correct our course.

Hebrews 12:5b-6; 11

5b MY son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved by Him; 6 for those whom the Lord loves HE disciplines, and HE scourges every son whom HE receives.

11 All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

A Little Box of Soap Today

Yesterday I was listening to a conversation between two men about duck hunting.  Of course, too far into a conversation about such things gets me a little lost.  I usually nod like I know what they are talking about and locations they reference, but usually I don’t.  I did pick up on one statement from one to the other about duck hunting with his son; “If you teach him to do it, you’ll never have to do it for him.”

The other man has been spending the last several years doing just that.  Teaching the skill.  I stood there for a moment thinking about the statement and wondering to myself if there is something to the sport of duck hunting that makes that statement especially significant.  I mean, that makes sense to me when I think of fishing and cleaning your own fish.  Who really wants to spend time cleaning someone else's catch?  But, isn’t that true with any type of game?  who wants to field dress (that’s a term I know) someone else’s deer?  I’ll just have to ask one of my hunting friends when I get the chance.

Anyway, as I stood there I began to think upon the wisdom of the statement when it occurred to me that such a precept is true in all areas of parenting.  I suppose it is the same concept of teaching a man to fish instead of giving him a fish (might as well stay with the sportsman metaphors).

I began to imagine what it would look like if I was still tying my 9 year old’s shoes.  What about when he is 20?  What if I were to still be hand feeding my daughter, as a perfectly heathy and capable little girl when she is 15?  Sounds stupid, I know, but this is the truth in other major developmental stages of parenting.  I know of parents who currently do the homework of their high school students...they literally do the work for them.  Are you kidding me?

I immediately began to think upon the application of this principle in other areas from the most basic tasks on:  Teach him to clean up after himself.  Teach him to manage his money.  Teach him how to relate to others.  Teach him how to think for himself.  Teach him how to exercise common sense.  Teach him how to read and write.  Teach him how to eat with utensils.  

So many dysfunctional parenting relationships have rolled out of childhood and into adulthood because the concept of teaching instead of doing has not been followed beyond the basic skills and into the more complex areas of living.  Too often this reality becomes a terribly enabling relationship between parents and their children, and sometimes the cycle is never broken.  In many cases, adult children still act like children because they have never been taught to be adults.  They have relied on a parent to do things for them instead of learning the skill.  Both suffer the difficult consequences of that arrangement.

I know my readers who have adult children may not agree, or may feel there is nothing to do about it now.  While I’m sure it feels that way, changes can be made; perhaps that is a discussion for another blog.  In the meantime, for my readers who still have younger, impressionable children in their care, be diligent in training them in all things of life and living.  What profit is there in being a champion duck hunter and a worthless husband or father?  

The Bible instructs us to train up our children in the way they should go.  Such instruction is not limited to learning to tie shoes, button coats, or use the correct duck call.  It is a direction of self worth, right living, integrity, and building character.  It is teaching them what it means to be a man or woman.  It is teaching them what it means to follow a godly code of living.  It is teaching them to be well rounded individuals ready for this thing called life and culture.  It is teaching them to be a contributor to family, church, and community... not filling in the void and making excuses for them over and over, and over, and over.....  

1 Corinthians 13:11

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.

Paternal Parenting among the Pathetic

As a parent now four deep in children, my mind is often plagued with the aspect of my children coming into their own decision making process. I have always said I would rather raise boys than girls because of the wretchedness of my own gender to be selfish, crass, tacky and rude contrasted with the desire deep inside every woman’s heart to be loved, cherished and appreciated.

I believe the task of teaching my boys is one of significant value to them when they enter adulthood as well as to any woman they may seek as a wife. One of the greatest challenges to raising boys is to teach them that it is not acceptable to treat women as “objects” in a culture that does nothing but place women before them as objects baiting them into a philosophy of thinking that only reinforces a lack of value. I have the task of teaching my boys to have a specific respect for women in a culture where the very objects of such respect behave in unrespectable ways.

I think about the idiocy of “reality” TV shows like The Bachelor that have women all voluntarily clawing for and pawing upon one guy all at the same time who, quite likely, does not have the respect for them for which they truly long. I think about the clips I see for promos and wonder what various fathers think of their daughters as they are exposed on national TV for their desperate attempts at grasping significance towards an ending that supposedly includes “happily ever after” in a scenario that is hardly real while reflecting the sad reality of our times.

Even so, I still feel like boys are easier to raise than girls - I can teach my boys to be men of integrity who seek to have and demonstrate genuine character. I can teach them to be chivalrous in a world that lacks such concern. I can teach them to be polite and express themselves with the greatest regard for the company they keep, and I can teach them the importance of treating a lady like a lady even during the absence of lady-like behavior. I can teach my boys that the existence of women is not for their gawking pleasure, but for the purpose of being a helpmate throughout the days of their lives and a beautiful parallel to God’s love for us. I can teach my boys what it means to be devoted to a woman and not pixels on a website. I can teach my boys to exercise restraint and guard against temptations without approaching tempting situations blindly defeated by their own passions as if there is no way to avoid bad decisions.

They can learn the value of restrained pleasure in anticipation of authentic marital companionship and I can teach them how to see to it that their commitment to their wives comes second only to their commitment to God and that their commitment to God dictates and drives the nature of their commitment to their wives. I can teach them how their marriages can and should be a testimony of the life they live in Christ reflecting the example of Christ’s love for His church and what it means to love selflessly and unconditionally so as to cultivate the best relationships possible. All these behaviors and attitudes can be taught and, if my sons learn them well, will lay a tremendously strong foundation that will move the heart of any woman seeking such loyal, committed, devotion. What woman doesn’t want a man who will man-up on his relationship and commitment to her? My boys will be taught to find the one who God has ordained to be with them forever – and without the “trial and error” “sowing of wild oats” destructive approach that so undermines and insults the integrity of genuine relationship.

Raising girls, on the other hand, is so much harder – and really for the same reasons. They too live in a culture where women often sabotage so much of what would be respectful and demonstrative of self respect while lowering their standards for acceptable “men” and relationships. I seek to teach my daughter not to settle for anything less than God’s best for her and to have standards that guide her to discover His will and not be governed by insecurity or fear.

I’m guessing the numbers are staggering for women who have entered bad relationships and marriages out of fear, insecurity, and anxiety over wondering if anyone else would come along and love them. I wonder how many fathers have watched daughters travel down treacherous roads of naivety [or stupidity] thinking “if she would only realize how special and valuable she really is…”

I also wonder how many daughters just long for there fathers to draw them into their arms and tell them how valuable they are and that if they will be patient, God is faithful and sustains. While I believe my boys are easier because I can teach them to have character traits and qualities that are in desperate demand, my daughter is much harder because I have to teach her to be patient and wait for God to provide someone with such traits – and there seem to be very few these days.

I want all of my children to discover godly spouses, but I equally want them to be godly people themselves so that the correct match of souls occurs. As a father, I bear a pythonic responsibility to teach such godly pursuits meshed with strategies of living in a world saturated with ungodly direction. In the end, my children will choose to heed my instruction or not, but my drive is to lead them to be like the men of Issachar, who understood the times in which they lived and knew what to do (1 Chronicles 12:32) and Enoch who “walked with God” (Genesis 5:22).