Full and Drunk

The time since I last posted has intermittently gone faster and slower than a slug in molasses. I've been sick enough to loose 12+ years of weight gain and recovered enough to get back six of those years. My church and other family has helped us through sick weeks off of work with meals, money, visits and most of all prayers. You can look at how they have taken care of us and get a glimpse of the face of God.

And right now I can look out the window and see the hospital a few miles away where I spent a recent week. That was a week of slugs swimming in molasses. I'm much more comfortable viewing it from the outside. From this angle the sun is dipping low, creating blues and greys and hints of pink. Dinner is finished and now we relax, my bride is to my right and my son to my left, contentedly sucking his thumb and rolling the silky edge of his blanket in his fingers and watching Curious George. I taste a bit of rye on my tongue and after breathing in to feel its spicy bite I sip an anise liqueur.The flavors are very different but I find them highly friendly. I am enjoying life with a different perspective.

I am full.
And I am drunk.

Not full of food nor drunk on the adult beverage in my cup but full of thankfulness and drunk on the richness of the last week. My first week back to a full schedule in seven weeks. The kind of work that invigorates in the way it strips you down to a tired core. A start to the weekend with friends. Friends who we have great discussion about eternal things with and I so badly want to join the Christian family. (It's good to be His, now get on board!) Another friends daughter who stayed the weekend with us while in town visiting with her soon to be husbands family. It has been exciting to see her grow from baby to lady. It doesn't make me feel old so much as enriched to have been a part of her families life.
My cousin and two of her daughters came over on Sunday, bringing my Grandma and Grandpa who I haven't seen in probably 10 years. More than anything I was excited to see them. My mom and her mom have always been on the outs with each other and I didn't know my grandparents well growing up. I don't know what to think of their disagreements but they don't concern me anyway. My grandparents are my Grandparents. We caught up, but not enough to our satisfaction, and we'll have to see them again soon.
When they left I felt immensely heavy hearted even through the high of the renewed relationship. I wished that several other family members could be there to experience that joy. To feel so thankful for the kind of work that God can do through people who are not brought down by bitterness but lifted up in thankfulness. Sadly bitterness, unforgiving hearts and a lack of gratitude will keep their bearers away from real connection with God and man. My wife and I fight against that in our lives. I can look to my Dad as an example and we are surrounded by a church that promotes thankful living for God. By the Grace of God the legacy we leave for our son will be to live that way.
And only by His Grace and good work in our lives will it be possible.
It is a good day.

Goose Eggs

Qui docet discit. He who teaches learns. When it comes to parenting maybe the phrase should be "qui docet discit exponatiali" Which might be Latin for "he who teaches learns, exponentially". ( I make my Latin up as I go). Our offspring are little reflectors of us both in general sin and specific sin. And, at least in my case, the lessons learned, the reflections seen, by me the parent are often more painful than than the ones learned by the child.

Let's scrape one recent event onto the slide and peak through the microscope...
Ethan is now five months passed his second birthday and thinks nothing is more fun than running away when he is beckoned hither.
And we explain why that is not recommended behavior and discipline accordingly. So recently when I called him to me before I left for work I saw the fire in his eyes that said "dad must not be serious, I shall run!" it disappointed me a little more than usual. I mean ,we've really been working on this. And he should know better. And it made me a little sad.
And then he jumped up onto the couch.
And I could see exactly what was going to happen.
He started backing up, closer to the far edge, closer to a backwards flip ending with his head bouncing off the hard edge of the ottoman. But in his mind here was old dad, ruining his fun. And that is exactly what happened as I tried and failed to apprehend his reverse dive to disobedience and goose eggs. "Damn it!", I cursed, telling myself that was in reference to his sin.  I think it was.
He cried, surprised that his escape didn't lead to chocolate milk and happiness.

And right there as he sat crying on my knee, I saw my reflection in his tears. All to often I seek temporary fun- running from my Heavenly Father- and every time it leads to disappointment and spiritual goose eggs. And God isn't grumpy with me, muttering "I told you so" under His breath, tapping His foot waiting for me to grovel. No, He wants to continue in relationship with me.

As a father I need to reflect to my son the love, the "welcome back" to the relationship kind of attitude that my Father has shown to me. When the prodigal son returned home he looked up as his father ran down the road, arms open, calling out party instructions. How much more should that reflect in my response to my son as he is growing up.

This fatherhood thing is fun, dirty reflections and all.

What is Church?

I've got a question for you.

             Do you attend church?

            Or are you a part of a local church?

There is a difference. Do you go to the movies? Or are you involved in the culture of a particular movie? There are some similarities. You know, like Trekkies. They are different. But they aren't the normative movie goer. It seems to me that there are also similarities between movie "goers" and church "goers". They both go to be entertained. They both leave and aren't part of anything. There is not unity in a group of theater goers and for many so-called Christians there is no unity for them. If the movie or the church don't meet their criteria then they take their popcorn and go to the theater/church down the street.

For me, I have found I identify much more with the various people at church than I do with the majority of people that share my last name, the people I grew up with and the one that birthed me. That guy on the other side of the isle wants to glorify God. He and I don't talk much but his daughters were in Sparks when my wife and I were leaders there. His girls were a good testament to his and his wifes parenting.

There's another guy over to my right that has always been there for me. He invited us to join his adult Sunday School class when my wife and I were newly married. He and I have gutted deer together. We sat in a creek on a hot summer day while his children threw rocks upstream. We talked about discouragement and came away encouraged. He doesn't know it but he and two other guys that have helped to mold me into a man all shared the same name,the name that we were going to give to the child we lost to miscarriage.
There is a quiet guy on the other side of church. He has no idea the impact he's had on my life. He was part of that Sunday School that the other guy invited us to. His hard work ethic could put a draft horse to shame. He speaks his mind,but so humbly that you couldn't be offended.
And there, closer to the front is a guy with some wacky colored socks. I went to him several years ago when my marriage was on the rocks, when I figured out I didn't have it going on like Donkey Kong and needed help. He encouraged me back from the edge of frustration. We met every week for over a year and a half. He answered the phone every time I  called with questions (and there was a lot of those times). And usually he didn't tell me I was screwing things up. He just asked the right questions until I figured it out. I wouldn't have dealt with me so gracefully, but he did. And that taught me a lot about parenting. Grace and asking questions, not throwing out accusations.
And there, kinda towards the back is a younger guy. I've known him since he was in high school. He was a punk then. Maybe still a little bit now. But man, has he grown up into a Godly man. Watching him grow into manhood has been like watching a firework that fizzled like a dud shoot into the sky and steal the show. Men twice his age don't have the drive to beat themselves into submission the way he does. I don't either, but he's unknowingly encouraging me to do so.

Do you get what I'm saying? Some people identify with a movie or a bar or a frat or what-have-you but my identity lies with my church family. Our identity is in our Savior. We die and sacrifice for each other because Jesus, our Savior, died and sacrificed for us.

Wisdom in a Box

Okay, so I have blogged about birthdays and how disinterested I was in them. And now I'm going to write about a birthday that won't happen for 10 1/2 years.

But remember, I left myself an out at the end of that blog post, "...birthdays are no big deal unless they mark years of wisdom gained".

A few years ago some great friends invited us to their sons 13th birthday celebration. They asked each adult male to be ready to share something with their son, some wisdom, some Bible verses. They wanted this to be the catapult to launch him into manhood. They documented this "rite of manhood" party in a book for Nick to refer back to in the future. And we were fortunate to attend the same event for their twin 15 year old boys.

I love this idea. I know its not new. Many cultures and religions have done similar things to prepare their future men, but it is something that our church culture has forgotten. We, as churched men, have neglected to hand over the responsibilities that we have. Or maybe we haven't even taken on our responsibilities and therefore have nothing to give?

I think far out to Ethan's 13th birthday and know that it will be here much to fast. I know, just as my friends knew with their boys, that we shouldn't wait for a birthday or as they are heading out the door on their own to give them our wisdom. That is clearly a day by day thing (Deut 6:4-7). But the celebration of manhood, of maturity and the requirement of young boys to seek those things alongside a desire for Godliness is an excellent thing. Such a celebration is not just a tool to admonish and encourage young men in maturity and righteousness but it is a reminder to the older men, the givers of advice, of their responsibility to grow the next generation.

Stay with me, we are going to take a different road now that will hopefully (if I am a good tour guide) bring us back to the same place.

I don't know exactly how it got started but several years ago one of my brothers and I half joked about an imaginary box that we dubbed "Gifted at Birth". When we came across something that seemed so essential to living we would say that it should be "Gifted at Birth". Given our predisposition to camping, guns and nature the items usually revolved around that. A hatchet that was so well built that it was something every man should have, or a rugged pocket knife that had served us well, or a .22 pistol that one could train a novice with and yet a skilled man could use to bring home dinner. These were the things that one would receive in the mythical G@B box.

Do you see where I'm going here? Or have I got lost in my own little world? Its been known to happen.
Maybe I have read to many Art of Manliness blog posts. Or I remember the Happy Hollister books from my childhood way to well. I dunno.

I see symbolism. Does that scare you?

                                               Baptism.
                                                                  Communion.

Here is my idea.
A box containing Symbols of manhood. Reminders of his Creator. Useful tools to a man.
To my son these gifts would be different, possibly, from what another father doing the same thing might gift to his son. But, in my mind, the goal and the symbol would be very similar.

First, the box could be as simple as an ammo can or as elaborate as a handcrafted wood box. But it would be sturdy and of good quality. I like the ammo can. It's former contents symbolic of the items necessary to attack life's problems. Plus ammo can are cool.

All the items should be of the highest quality that a man could afford. These could be handed down to grandchildren. You don't want a stingy legacy. They should be much like wisdom and just as useful in every day life. And if you're in my situation you have a few years to save up.

Some basics for my son:
(And obviously these should be tailored to the interests of your son and mine may change as Ethan grows)

• a pocket knife. Sturdy, its always useful and always prepared.
• a book of poetry. Recognize beauty, stretch the brain.
• a favorite book of mine. Or four.
• a collection of wisdom and advice from the men present for his passage into manhood.
• a Zippo lighter. It is always handy to have the ability to start a fire and Zippos are an icon of that.

The ideas I have would probably overflow the box if I decide to give all of them.

Remember, this is a gift to encourage. It should spur your future man onward, not remind him of the "shortcomings" you perceive because of your high school aspirations. In other words don't give your boy a custom made catchers mitt when you know good and well he doesn't share your interest in the sport.

At least some of the things should symbolize the responsibilities of being a man. A knife or firearm (most boys should be responsible at this age to maintain these items in a mature manner) would be representative of the responsibility to protect his family. If he is a camper like me a cast iron skillet (because those are awesome) would be a good symbol of his charge to serve and also to provide for others. Yes, it is manly to cook.

These are just my ideas based on what I've seen few others do. But regardless of how one goes about it we need to charge our boys with the desire for manliness. And manliness goes with Godliness. This isn't a thing that a church program should do but it should be supported by the church. This is a thing fathers should plan for their boys. 
Lastly, if you haven't been a leader and mentor to your son there is nothing better than a humble father asking his children for forgiveness and looking to the example of our Lord for guidance.

Tell Stories, Fight Foolishness

I never remember my birthday. In fact, I often forget what day it is on (is it the 28th or 29th?) and how old I am. In this moment I can't remember if I'm 34 or turning 34 on my next birthday.
I'm not afraid of knowing my age or aging. Its just that celebrating a birthday seems so...ugh, lame. It seems like the equivalent to celebrating a climb up Mount Everest when you've just landed in Nepal. Now I admit that children's birthdays are important. My son is really a different person than he was a year ago. And a year from now. But that drastic change does slow down eventually. We never stop changing but we don't learn a new language every year, right?  I remember when I was nine years plus 364 days and thinking that once I hit those double digits I would be so grown up. Now, I don't know what I was expecting (a beard?) but the next morning I ran in to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and, shock of all shock, I looked exactly the same.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm not afraid of aging. I would gladly tell you my age if you asked (and if I could remember it). Its not something to be embarrassed by. For anyone. Unless we're not acting our age. But that is subjective and less confining than most think it is. Age gives you experience. Experience is the strength of age (Proverbs 20:29) Stories of the aged are carriers of wisdom for the young. The young have physical strength but listen to their stories much and, well wisdom is often in short supply. But nothing is so unfortunate as grey hair and wisdomless stories. Age gives opportunity for wisdom but no guarantee.

I am a young parent (not much experiential wisdom), but one thing I see that disturbs me are fathers who are afraid to tell their stories. Often, and understandably, this is the case when they have stories of failure or sin. But those are where the lessons are like the leagues of the sea. Deep, if you didn't catch that.

One friend of mine who was of the the age when stories were made and not yet told liked to party at night yet had to work hard in the fields by day. He found that the proper application of his T-shirt around his neck would cause him to um, " fall asleep" for a few seconds and trick his body into thinking it had slept for hours. And then, being well rested, he could work like an ox. Clearly not a story you would relate to your seven year old but one you could tell your 17 year old. And the moral of the story being that partying to hard makes choking yourself seem like a reasonable endeavor. Some stories are age appropriate.

There are two stories that Ethan will hear from his grandfather and I. Stories of fighting. Or not fighting. From my dad comes the story of a bully who taunted him on the way home from school. My dad, ever the lover not fighter, stepped aside as the bully let fly a punch which was thrown powerfully enough to propel the antagonista into a muddy puddle. Moral of the story: You don't have to play by the rules and square off. Sometimes doing nothing reveals the foolishness of your opponent. And that you don't have to fight to be a man.
From me comes the story of the youth group bully who went around picking on and intimidating the weak and frail (me) at the youth lock in. As he attempted to get me into the umpteenth headlock and gut punch combo of the night I stepped aside and lifted my foot in a kicking fashion, connecting in a location that convinced the bully in the error of his ways. Moral of the story: There is a time for everything. And the timing of a kick is important. And that sometimes you have to fight when your a man.

The Bible tells stories with little tenderness for faults. And we shouldn't balk at that when it comes to the stories we tell. Especially of ourselves. From stories about me Ethan will know that listening to his wife and being tender to her fears could keep his house from foreclosure. He'll know that hard work always pays off but not always in the paycheck. He'll know that even when he messes up as a teen he will always be loved by his dad because his dad remembers those years well.

And he'll know to remember those stories of failure and victory and to tell his children. And that birthdays are no big deal unless they mark years of wisdom gained.