One Selfless Mother

Okay, I’m so done being Mommy today.  D - O - N - E.  

I’m exhausted and ready for bed.  I’ve been so busy on this Mothers Day that I have not even had time to sit down to just enjoy the day and write how fantastic the mother of my children is.  That will have to wait for another day I suppose; a day when I haven’t been up since the crack of dawn cleaning up after people much smaller and messier than me.  

It will have to wait for a day when I haven’t ironed clothes for five and a half people and gotten little boys and girls ready for church - I accidentally put a smelly shirt on one of them, but that’s a dad thing I think.  

It will have to be a day when I haven’t had to “help” a 4yo, 6yo, and 9yo make breakfast-in-bed for Mommy - that was kind of messy. 

It will have to be a day when I haven’t cleaned up what seems like six meals worth of messes when we only ate twice today - [always thankful for morning donuts at church]. 

I’ve given baths [twice for one child], washed hair, spanked a couple of bottoms, yelled at some, taxied one, cooked, grilled, washed up, washed up again, and feel “washed-up”.  

I gassed the car.  I put on band-aids.  I combed hair, picked up stray clothes, turned off lights, and ran over a bike with the car - well, that’s more of a dad thing too, and might have happened yesterday come to think of it.  

I’ve sent people to the naughty step, picked up shoes, gathered trash, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher, and swept the floor.

I’ve picked flowers, gathered gifts, sung silly songs, and danced goofy dances.  

I plated food, brought refills, passed out napkins, and even poured beverages [I hate drink duty].

I [and the kids, I guess] have done everything we can possibly do to keep Mommy from doing anything but what she wants to do today.

The truth is, she still did some things she HAD to do, things that matter most, in fact.  She still prayed for her children today.  She still hugged necks, kissed cheeks, and told each of them she loves them.  She still looked if someone said “Mommy watch this”, and she still opened her arms if someone came in hurt and crying.  

Her lap was still available for sitting, and at the end of the day… literally at the end of the day, she still owned the responsibility to rock our babiest girl before bed.

Many jobs she does are never “done” and for those things there is not only no break, but no substitute either.  My wife… my kids’ mother… she is the real deal.  She’s the genuine article and amazes me every day with all she does for our family.  Events like the “break” of Mother’s Day for a mom in the prime of parenting remind us that there is much to distract from what is most valuable in parenting.  Time spent.

Time is not inexhaustible.  It’s depleting, and this side of eternity, forever running out.  Our kids don’t even know to appreciate it yet, but they do, and they will.  The thing my kids seem to value most, whether they realize it or not, is time.  Her time.  

When I see her loving on her children the way only she can, she is spending her time on them.

When I see her reading bible passages about raising children, and being a mother of honor,  she is spending her time on them.

When I see her having a picnic, or playing with them in the yard, she is spending her time on them.

Their schoolwork?  Spending her time on them.

Sitting by a chainlink fence waiting for one of them to hit or catch a ball?  Spending her time on them.

Everything is about spending her time on them and doing so with excellence, honor, and love.

The time she spends with them is not just about the tasks she does for them, it is the intangible investment of self.  That just might be the single best attribute the mother of my children has.  She is selfless.  She is one selfless mother.

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.

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.