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.

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.

My Worship Deserves Criticism (but not by you!)

First of all, to my knowledge, no one has ever criticized my worship.  Well… except for that one time in church I played the djembe for a changed up, acoustic version of “’Tis So Sweet”.  It was a powerful song that night, and mostly well received.  The response from one, however, was… not so sweet.  How did he put it?  Oh yeah, “I don’t think we need that jungle music here.”  Awesome.  Note to self - God apparently doesn’t like “jungle music”.  And, I suppose I’ll never play the djembe again.

Other than that, no one has ever criticized my worship.  Oh, wait… there’s me.  I’m self critical of my own expressions of worship in a corporate setting ALL THE TIME.  I never seem to feel completely comfortable doing what I think I should do to express myself.  In my car, no problem.  Out on a run, easy.  Even in my office with people nearby I have no difficulty expressing various forms of worship.  In church, though?  I… am… disastrous.

I’ve been in hundreds thousands of worship services.  A man my age, growing up in church, and in my profession for as long as I have been doing it has absolutely been a part of thousands of worship services.  Over the years, I’ve heard worship leaders instruct me to feel free to express myself however I feel led to do so.  I almost never do.  

Examples of raising hands or clapping are often given.  Jokes about the bible saying “make a joyful noise” [with an emphasis on noise] are often made.  Coming to the altar to kneel, or laying prostrate in the floor have also been suggested as expressions of worship.

I have been in environments where each of those has occurred separately, and sometimes in the same service.  It is a beautiful thing, and I love it.  Freedom to worship, and freedom in worship are fantastic contexts.  It helps bring to life scriptures like “I was glad when they said to me, ‘let us go to the house of the Lord’”.  

But, I generally talk myself out of my own expressions of worship.  Most of the time, I’m never quite able to execute what I think I ought to do in any given moment of church worship.  I’ll often worry about wonder what people are thinking, which then leads me to question my motives, which then leads to me being driven by my assumptions of what others think, which then quenches the Spirit.

I want to express myself accordingly to help others see that they can be free to do so.  You know, set an example and all.  Of course, it doesn't help that there is usually some kind of cartoon floating around christian circles that pokes fun at the the different ways people present themselves or lift their hands in worship.  

Sometimes I may not desire to express myself in a noticeable way; then I start worrying that people think I don’t care anything about worship at all.  Both lead me to question my motives, and my heart of worship in that particular moment.  At that point I am worshipping at the altar of pride, misunderstanding and my assumptions that others even concern themselves with how I worship in the first place.  It really is ridiculous.  My mind is pharisaical sometimes, I’ll admit it.

The truth is I have finally come to terms with my most appropriate form of worship.  Though I feel caught off guard in my discovery, it sums up my worship perfectly - I’m the quiet reflective type.  It seems oxymoronic for me considering my free spirited personality.  

The times I have been most comfortable in worship are times when I sit quietly, surrounded by singing, immersed in the instrumentation, face buried in my hands, and closing out all other distraction but my creator.  Most of the time those have been times and environments of anonymity for me.  It has been then that I have worshiped authentically; simply reflective and pensive.

I think the reason I have not nailed this down until now is because it strikingly contrasts with who I am in everyday life.  In daily life, I’m kinetic, boisterous, full of energy, and sometimes loud.  I have a flare for the dramatic, find humor in almost everything, and am laced with sarcasm.  But when I worship, I am deeply reflective and quiet.  I simply like to dwell upon the God who loves and saved me.  I love to reflect upon His goodness and benefits.  It makes me misty eyed almost every time.  I want to be repentant, thankful, and praiseful.

I have spent too many years feeling bad about not realizing the nature of my discomfort.  It’s because I haven’t actually been following the instructions of worship leaders when I’m around others I know.  In reality, and more importantly, I haven’t actually followed the leading of the Spirit in my worship.  I haven’t been “myself” in my worship most of the time, and I have drawn the fire of my own self-criticism as a result.  Today I say "no more".  Today, I will stop criticizing my own worship.  Today I will remove reason to criticize.  Today, I will repent and dismiss my pride.  Today, I will free my sprit.  Now… where did I leave that djembe?

My Appreciation for My Pastors

There are so many “appreciation” days on the calendar that I have lost count.  A quick internet search reveals an enormous number of “appreciation days”.  Enormous is relative considering there are only 365 assignable days in any given year.  Next year holds the 29th of February.  Is that Leap Year Appreciation Day?  I don’t know, I haven’t checked.

There is Mole Appreciation Day; the animal, not the saboteur.  Weed Appreciation day; the garden nuisance, not the marijuana plant.  I’m sure there is a day for the other as well.  As long as I’m referencing mind-benders, there is Beer Can Appreciation Day - just the can, not the contents, on that day.  Believe it or not, there is Root Canal Appreciation Day, but the last date of that on record was in 2014.  Somebody wised up that that was a stupid day, I guess.  On a related note, there is also Virus Appreciation Day, and it’s still around.

What about people appreciations?  We all know about Administrative Assistant’s Day... and Boss's Day. There’s Mother’s, Father’s, and Grandparent’s days.  I discovered over the last few years there is a Sibling Appreciation Day.  There is also Waiter’s Appreciation Day - isn't that what my gratuity does?  There is Military Spouse Appreciation Day.  Couples Appreciation has a whole month, which I find strange.  I always thought their day was in February.  Speaking of… there is Wife Appreciation Day.  One would think that would be one’s anniversary.  Not so, it has it’s own day.  Here are a few more:

• Building and Code Staff Appreciation Day
• Ancestor Appreciation Day [How do they even know?  What’s the point?]
• Operating Room Nurse Day AND Emergency Room Nurse Day [Apparently neither are to be confused with regular Nurses Day.]
• Love Your Lawyer Day
• Hug Your Boss Day [Okay, so… um… couldn’t this mean lawsuits and such for people? Never mind, my boss is God, right?]

My “under-boss” is my Pastor, and October is Pastor Appreciation Month.  Because I'm also a "pastor", all month long I personally have experienced the thoughtful expressions from folks demonstrating their love and appreciation.  It is a sweet thing.  This has also made me reflect upon how much I appreciate the leadership staff with whom I work.  Dude, they are awesome!  

My Senior Pastor is one of the smartest and spiritually sensitive Pastors I’ve known.  His variety of ministry experience has equipped him for everything we do as a staff and church.  I appreciate that every staff meeting holds not only fantastic pastoral leadership, but also great, workshop style exercises, instruction, and application.  I see in his face his love for us as a team.  I experience first hand his desire to shepherd us himself with intentionality, and teach us to shepherd the flock at large.  His sensitivity to the Holy Spirit is ever present and his resolve to do the work God inspires me to be a better servant and leader myself.

My Discipleship & Missions Pastor has a heart for missions and outreach that is second to none.  I love the passion that flows from his voice as he talks of people being better versions of themselves and a better version of the church.  He communicates well the vision of seeing the church as God sees it.  There is no question that he wants to see the church “be the church”.  He’s also a strategist.  I love that I can walk into his office with an idea, vision, plan, or dream and the first thing he naturally does is see all the ins and outs of it’s realization.  He quickly sees all around a plan and has immediate advice and suggestions.

My Students and Young Adults Pastor is a guy who makes me smile every time I think about his ministry.  I smile because I am a direct recipient of his work.  I watch and experience the way he runs his ministry and am thankful every day for the impact he has on my oldest son.  I watch as students shine with spiritual maturity that clearly comes from a learned submission to the Holy Spirit.  I attribute much of that growth to the impact of his ministry - he sets a good example.  I also love to hear him preach.  Never have I come away confused about his message or unclear about his points.  I also never come away without having had a great laugh.  He’s a natural at wrapping perfectly timed humor in all he does publicly which makes him endeared by all.

Our other team member isn’t technically one of my pastors, but the value she brings to our team is immeasurable.  I see her serve others daily through her ministry.  She is great at mentoring young, fresh minds toward the ministry of what she does in tech, media, and music.  I love that it’s not just a job for her but truly embraced as a ministry that reaches more people for the the Kingdom of God.  She also knows how to pull out all the stops to make everything we do look greater than any of us could do on our own.  I always need a notebook when I talk with her because at any moment a simple discussion about the mundane can turn into a huge creative, brainstorming session.  I speculate she probably brings out the best in ALL of us, but I know she does of me.

Ultimately, we make up a team that functions well together and only gets better doing so.  We laugh together.  We pray together.  We dine together.  We group text together.  We happily work together.  As we continue discovering all the ways our individual cogs turn and interact, we become a squeak-less, well oiled machine.  The synergy we have has long begun to blaze, and is becoming glaringly evident to others.  I am appreciative of every single person on our ministry team and count myself undeservingly blessed to learn from each of them.

On this Pastor Appreciation Month, I could not be more appreciative of a single group of people than I am of these I serve with each week.  They are amazing.  If you haven't got a reason to tell them so, you simply haven’t spent enough time getting to know them, and that is most certainly your loss.

These people are my pastors, my colleagues, and my friends.

Rules for Dating My Children

From time to time I see posts and shares on social media with the title “Rules for Dating My Son or daughter”.  I have both sons and daughters and I have scanned such rules as they scroll by.  There are plenty of variations out there to include T-shirts, posters, window stickers, and magnets.  I saw one artistically etched on stained wood, and there is the typical coffee mug option as well.  Shy of seeing the list fashioned in old-school cross-stitch, I think I’ve seen all the presentations available.  

The rules are meant to be pointed and of course humorous.  They include such things as:

• Understand that I don’t like you, and never will.
• More clothes equals more points.
• I don’t mind going back to jail.
• My son is not an ATM.

I've included my personal favorite.

Obviously, rules vary for sons compared to daughters, but for the most part, the rules for each are similar - understandably, the daughter rules often include some kind rule of violence such as “whatever you do to her, I’ll do to you”.

Like most parents, I love my children dearly.  I want them to have the best experiences and encounters with others possible.  I’ve decided I have only one rule - Be godly.  Can you do that?

When the dating season arrives, can you show up at my door for my daughters, or answer the door for my sons, and be the one who’s first priority is the pursuit of godliness?  That’s truly all I ask.  I figure all else will fall into place if that one thing is correct.  

Guys, do I want you chivalrous? Of course!  Do I want you to respect my daughters…and their parents?  Absolutely!  Do I want you polite and courteous? No doubt!

And girls, should you be gracious and ladylike? Yes, both are beautiful attributes.  Should you be modest? I would think so.  Should you respect yourself? Man, I hope so.

And, while those are all great traits, they are mostly external and can easily be faked…for a time.  Godliness, though?  That’s an inside out thing - a heart thing really.  Godliness comes from a true encounter with Jesus.  It’s the result of a transformation.  Godliness is perspective and God pleasing.  Godliness puts everything else second to a right relationship with him.  Godliness means you are going to be perfect for my children.

If you show up in my kids’ lives with THAT going for you, we’re going to get along fine.  If not, and you hurt one of them?  Lets just say I’m thankful I serve a God of forgiveness - at that point, I just might need a little bit more of it.

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.

The Thought that Counts

Not long ago my sweet wife slipped up beside me, extended her arm around me, and gently stated that she did not want me to concern myself with trying to get her a valentine’s gift this year. 

Her statement has nothing to do with a lack of desire to receive one, but everything to do with a tighter budget these days.  Since she handles the finances in our home, it is extremely difficult to buy her anything without her knowing.  I have to be a creative opportunist.

It gave me tremendous pleasure to respond by saying too late, baby - I already have.  Her expression of surprise was everything I hoped it would be.  

One of the things I have been trying to do is stay ahead of the game when it comes to seasons of gifting with my wife.  I have a tendency to think of things along the way to give her, and then let whatever day is approaching approach without having acted upon the intentions of my heart.

This year I bought her a card immediately following New Years.  I was strolling solo through a store and saw the cards had just been put out.  My first thought was ‘I’ll catch it later, I've still got plenty of time’.  Fortunately, my next thought was ‘Hey, I’ve got first pickings if I get it now’.

Truth be told, I’m not a fan of cards; at least as a giver anyway.  I never seem to find the card that says exactly what I feel.  Part of that could be from waiting until all that is left are cards “from the both of us” or “to a super 7 year old”.  The rest of the cards are damaged, shuffled out of place, and I’m usually standing there looking with 8 other people in a shopping space made for three.  But that day, with time, urgency and an un-plundered card rack on my side, I found a great card.  It’s just enough cute, not too much flower, a little glitter, and most importantly, the words within are perfect.

My wife’s love language is most certainly gifts, nothing major mind you, but gifts nonetheless.  She loves unexpected little happpies full of thoughtfulness, so while getting the card I went ahead and picked up a few things to go with it; It has all been hidden in my office for weeks now… except the card.  I realized on Friday, February 13th that I couldn’t find it when I began wrapping and packing.

It turns out the card was in my backpack all this time and now it looks like it’s been crammed in the typical junk drawer for the last two years.  It is bent, discolored, missing glitter in spots, and has a stain that appears to be a drop of coffee on one of the corners.  How could I let this happen? Everything else is so perfect and now I have to scavenge through leftover cards on Valentine’s eve... again.  I feel like such a bottom feeder.

As I sat at my desk reading and re-reading the card I finally decided that she will love it anyway.  It's a risk, but if there was ever a moment when the thought counted more, this is it.  My wife likes a great story, and this will be sweet to her.  She’ll like the fact that I bought it so early.  She will be impressed, but not surprised by my creative wrapping job, and when she opens the tattered, coffee stained card in bewilderment, she will appreciate the words within and ultimately include that card with other keepsakes.

We have spent over twenty valentine’s days together, and there is no card on earth that can truly capture how I feel about that or all that she means to me.  She is my one true love - always has been, always will be.  She is my valentine.