Faith Like a Child

One of the greatest joys of fatherhood is hearing the cute, insightful, and downright funny things that your kids say. Not a day goes by that one of my kids doesn't make me smile. As I tucked my two-year-old son into bed tonight, he looked up at me and said, "I need my Bible."

"Where is it?" I asked in response.

"In the leaving room," he answered.

"The leaving room?" I asked.

"In the leaving room," he insisted.

"Oh, the living room," I said as I went on the Bible hunt. Maybe he calls it that because that is where he goes to put on his shoes when we are getting ready to leave. Or maybe its because he's two and that's the way two-year-olds talk. Doesn't matter. It made me smile.

With the Bible in his hands, I moved on to the girls' room. As my four-year-old daughter prayed in her bed, I was struck by her profound faith. She began her prayer with a simple statement, "Thank you that the baby is safe when it comes out of Mommy's tummy." My older kids will pray that God will keep Mommy and the baby safe, but Cami thanks God in advance for keeping them safe, fully trusting that he has things under control.

How often do we try to control our own lives, when a simple faith that God is in control is all that we need? How often do we charge forward with our own plans without stopping and thanking God for guiding us through life's journeys, past, present, and future?

Colossians 2:6-7 - So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

Retirement Plans

Every once in a while a great meal emerges from a lonely stove and an empty refrigerator. Other times great meals come as a result of careful planning and preparation. Other times, mistakes in the kitchen can be turned into edible entrees if the right combination of other ingredients is added. Tonight's dinner had a combination of all of these.

Frequently on Sunday nights, I take over the kitchen and make something out of whatever we have in the refrigerator. The first step is always to take inventory. Tonight I had a choice of three different meats. Mommy had cooked a turkey a few nights ago and I had grilled up some steak and chicken for lunch today. By dinner time, all three were waiting to be doctored to leftover perfection.

For tonight's entree, I selected the steak. It was a little more well done than I prefer, but it was tasty nonetheless. Scanning the fridge I located a lifetime supply of corn tortillas and enough cheese to satisfy the largest families in Mexico and Italy combined. Then I went to work. Before long, quesadillas were coming off the griddle as fast as the kids could eat them.

As I cooked, I realized that, although this dinner was comprised of some Mexican food essentials, it lacked the zing that so often stings authentic Mexican cuisine. It was then that I realized something. Just because I live in a town with a Spanish sounding name and two-thirds of my neighbors hail from the southern side of the border, I don't cook like a Mexican, so why fake it?

That is when my retirement plan began to develop. Being proud of one's white heritage is taboo in our backwards thinking society, but I embrace it. That's why when I retire I am going to open a restaurant called Cheese-a-dee-ya: Authentic Quesadilla Cuisine From North of the Border. On the menu you will find things like the Gringo Asada Cheese-a-dee-ya. For this delicacy, the white guy in the kitchen will start with the finest Carne Asada (pronounced Car-Nay Uh-SOD-Uh for my white friends) and smother it in the drippiest barbecue sauce this side of Kansas City. A few minutes on the grill will finish it off before before it is chopped up, covered in cheese and squished between two two tortillas. (Tor-TEE-uhs)

Another entree from north of the border would be the burger-dee-ya. Nothing beats a little ground beef, lettuce, tomato, and maybe a slice of onion and a few pickles nestled in a bed of melted cheese between two tortillas. And what could be more American than the doggy-dee-ya for the little guys? Throw some mac and cheese between a couple of flour tortillas and you've got a mac-a-dee-ya. The possibilities are endless.

We won't serve fries, but you are sure to enjoy the Deep-fried-a-dee-ya for an appetizer. Deserts will involve things like the ice cream-a-dee-ya. For this delicacy, you start with a deep-fried tortilla coated in cinnamon, then stuffed with the ice cream flavor of your choice. Toss it in the blender and you've got a shake-a-dee-ya.

If you ask me, this is one great i-dee-ya! Anyone want to buy the first franchise?

Parents' Rights

Have you ever had a well-meaning busy body step on your proverbial parental toes? If you have experienced this, you know exactly what I am talking about. The toe stomper disguises herself as a caring motherly type with far more parental experience than you could ever have. (Sorry ladies, I have yet to meet a male toe stomper.) As the proud parent of well-behaved children, you write off her advise because in all her years of experience, she has never actually met the children you are doing such a wonderful job of raising. Often these people have had far more opportunities than you to practice public discipline, although they have far fewer children. I'm sure you know the type.

As a father of four young children I have found myself on the receiving end of such treatment on several occasions. Ironically enough it has always occurred when my children are doing exactly what I have allowed them to do. When the toe stomper sees a daddy out in public with the four little ones, she immediately goes into rescue mode and thinks to herself, "That poor man will never survive a trip into the Home Depot with all those children. He needs me."

She then looks for the opportunity when Daddy turns his back for three to four seconds and swoops in to save the day. By the time Daddy turns around, she is there with a plastered smile saying, "I noticed you weren't watching the kids so I wanted to make sure they were safe."

Am I supposed to thank such an obnoxious person? I hope not, because I never have. "They are great kids," I like to reply. The inner voice, however, says something more like, "Were my children in danger? Did they annoy other customers? No? Then back off!" Fortunately I have controlled that inner voice almost every time.

Today I encountered a toe stomper whose misunderstanding of the law caused her to overstep her bounds. Fortunately, I was simply a witness and was not the target of her behind-the-scenes attack, so it was easier for me to hold back the inner voice.

The setting was an elementary school parking lot just after the dismissal bell had rung. Temperatures hovered around 60 degrees and the sun was out with just a few clouds dotting the sky. A gentle breeze was blowing and hints of spring were in the air.

The issue at hand was that a very loving grandmother had left an infant and a six year old in the car while she went to pick up a kindergartner on the opposite edge of the parking lot, never once stepping out of a direct line of sight of her car. The toe stomper witnessed this alleged felony in progress and immediately realized that she had to act lest the children die as a result of over exposure to a beautiful day. Her concern for the helpless children at the hand of the cruel grandmother was more than she could bear. Most rational adults who see such atrocities might feel compelled to intervene.

Given that her concern had to do with the fact that the children were in imminent danger of death due to a lack of adult proximity, a logical response would be to do as the Home Depot toe stomper had done and stay by the car until Grandma returned just to be sure the kids were safe. A professional toe-stomper however prefers to be as dramatic as possible, so she marched into the school office demanding that someone do something about those poor children.

Moments later a call went out on the school radio and a swarm of school personnel surrounded the car to rescue the children from certain death only to find them in the car happy and healthy and eagerly awaiting Grandma's return.

By now, some of my readers are mocking my own sarcasm. Many of you are on the side of the toe stomper. You are also unaware of the law. According to "Kaitlyn's Law," children under the age of six are not to be left unattended in a car unless there is someone over 12 in the car with them. The law also indicates that two factors must be present in order for a parent to have violated the law.*

(1) Conditions must exist that present a significant risk to the child's health or safety.

(2) The vehicle’s engine is running or the vehicle's keys are in the ignition, or both.

In the case of this proverbial parental toe stomper, neither of these factors was present and the grandmother had done nothing to violate the law nor endanger her grandchildren. There was no risk of overheating nor a risk of freezing. The car was parked in a safe location and Grandma was close enough to keep an eye on things. There were no seedy characters in the area nor a history of abductions of children from unsupervised cars. Simply put, there was no obvious risk to the children's safety.

Fortunately we live in a state that, for the time being, has yet to completely strip parents of all their rights. Provided it is a cool enough or warm enough day, parents still have the right to decide for themselves what is best for the children they know and love. And love is something a state can never legislate.

*CALIFORNIA VEHICLE CODE SECTION 15620