Growing Pains

When we first bought our house almost nine years ago, it was perfect for our little family. There was an extra bedroom and closets galore. I even remember commenting to my wife as we were unpacking, "I don't think we will ever be able to fill all these closets. Look at all the extra space!" I was young. I was naive. I was a father to one 11 month old baby boy.

Something happened over the last nine years that changed things. I don't think it was the birth of our daughter. It wasn't the birth of a second daughter either. Maybe it was when the fourth kid came along. Or possibly even the fifth. I'm not exactly sure, but at some point things changed. The closets filled up. Extra cabinets appeared in the garage. They filled up too. A shed popped up out back. It filled up with bicycles of every shape, size, and gender. The attic that was once home to noting but Christmas decor now contains 20 boxes of neatly labeled children's clothing.

While we have managed to keep up with the demands for space and have even updated the interior of the house somewhat, the outside has done nothing but deteriorate. Over the past several years, the lawn has been behaving much like my hair. At first it was only a little thin in spots, but then somewhere between baby 2 and 4, it surpassed my own hairline and completely disappeared. I went out back to look for it a few times, but only found dirt.

And this dirt was not very well behaved. It liked to crawl off the former lawn space and get comfortable on the patio. The flower bed that once boasted of vibrant hydrangeas somehow turned into a dog bed and a series of moats and canals for kids' buckets, cars, and boats. This dirt joined the other dirt on the patio and a never-ending cycle of moving dirt became the norm.

A few months ago I got tired of it. On a sleepless night, I devised a plan to section off the yard into thirds. One third would be for the kids and dogs, one third for the beautiful lawn and flowers, and one third for the trailer and other things that Daddy wanted outside where kids and dogs wouldn't get them.

Last weekend, the biggest part of Operation Normal Yard was completed. Thanks to the help of some friends, (one with a tractor and one with some sweat) a brand new lawn was laid down.

When we first moved in nine years ago, I took the lawn for granted. I assumed that it would always be there. Now, having experienced its death and renewal I have a new appreciation for grass. I have invested money, hard work, and time and now I have a plan for watering, fertilizing, and even over-seeding it each year. I keep the kids and dogs off of my lawn and will use nearly lethal force if necessary to protect my lawn.

My dad used to say that his lawn was more valuable than his kids and I think he was on to something. His yard was always green and all five of his kids turned out great. There must be a connection.

Sin

Does sin still exist today? As a father, I am faced with this question on a daily basis. Do my kids sin? Do they at times push me to the point of sinning myself? Anyone who has ever been given the title of parent knows that we cannot raise kids who never disappoint us. In their own unique ways our kids will defy us, lie to us, treat their siblings unkindly, and, at times find unimaginable ways to drive us crazy.

So what are we to do with this misbehavior? Do we excuse it or correct it? If we excuse it, then there is no sin, no measure of right and wrong. If we correct it, we must believe in a standard of right and wrong that transcends culture.

In our post-modern world, the answer to the question of sin largely depends on your perspective. In order to more efficiently hash out my thoughts, I will have to make some assumptions. First of all I will assume there are three camps on this issue: Yes, No, and Sort Of. Before you shout out a definitive answer, pause to consider the ramifications of your beliefs.

If you are in the Yes camp then I can safely assume that you believe in an absolute moral truth that sets a standard of right and wrong. Those of you in the No camp subscribe to the theory that right and wrong are a construct of each individual person. The mixed group, the Sort Of camp, holds a mixed view that some acts are sinful, but others fall into a gray area. Let’s start by exploring each of these views.

Belief in an absolute moral standard of right and wrong demands that there must be a universal benchmark to gauge the “rightness” or “wrongness” of behavior. Again, for the sake of simplicity, I am going to assume the most commonly accepted benchmark is the Bible. If you find yourself balking at that statement, then perhaps you don’t fall into the Yes category. Only a true Christian can advocate this position since you cannot claim to believe the Bible is the ultimate standard of right and wrong without embracing it in its entirety. To choose only parts to believe necessitates falling into the Sort Of category.

To those for whom sin does not exist, the ramifications are very open ended. If there is no standard of right and wrong, then what I view as right is always right for me and what I view as wrong is always wrong for me. Someone else may have a different standard of right and wrong and that is their prerogative. Carried to the logical conclusion, chaos must reign and anger must abound. Under this premise, laws cannot be enforced and other acts such as lying, cheating, and infidelity cannot be viewed as wrong.

If you hold to a Sort Of position, you may agree that there is some degree of absolute morality but not all acts fall under its rule. The question that must be asked here is what defines your morality? Is morality defined by law? Can morality change? Is someone sinning if they don’t agree with your views of right and wrong? If someone is sinning when they don’t play by your rules, then you must believe in sin, but absent an absolute standard, your definition of sin has no grip and you then fall back into the mixed group and the cycle continues.

The Bible is very clear on the answer to this question. Romans 3:23 says “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” If even a small part of you believes that God might be the creator and controller of all things, then you must wrestle with this topic. If God exists, then sin exists and we all fall in the sinner category. Fortunately that is not the end of the story.

Eavsdropping

One of the great joys of eating dinner is a small restaurant is the ability one has to unintentionally eavesdrop on the conversations of others. I make it a point to keep my conversations private in such settings by talking only loud enough for my voice to carry across the table.

My wife and I have a lot in common when it comes to being in the vicinity of loud talkers. When someone starts talking too loudly, we both stop talking. Rather than compete with the noise, we listen. Once the loud conversation ends, we immediately resume ours, however the topic inevitably shifts to what we have just heard.

Last night, in a quiet restaurant, a conversation began between two strangers at different tables. Both were alone, waiting for “to go” orders, so they had some time to kill. There was a younger man at one table and a middle aged man at the other. The middle aged man had clearly lived a hard life. This fact was made apparent by both his words and his appearance. The younger man, was vibrant and full of energy, just dying to talk to anyone who would listen.

After a brief exchange about the older man’s tattoos and their meaning, the conversation shifted to employment. The older man revealed that he had spent some time in the Navy and reminisced about his world travels. The young man responded by saying, that he worked as an intern at a local church and spent much of his time with junior high aged students.

My ears perked up upon hearing this. Visions of an enthusiastic young pastoral intern flashed into my mind. I assumed that in the next few minutes I would hear the beginnings of a sermon and an awkward exchange between the two strangers. The older man responded to the announcement of the younger man’s occupation with a very long silence. It seemed that the conversation was over, but the old guy surprised me when he picked it right back up after a minute or so.

Rather than pursue the religious angle, he went back to his Navy stories. The two men continued talking until their orders were ready. As they prepared to leave, the young pastoral intern got up and shook the older man’s hand. They exchanged names and went on their ways.

With them gone, my wife and I resumed our conversation. “Compare his form of evangelism to the other church,” I said. “Which do you think is more effective?” The other church to which I refer has gained regional, if not national, attention for its recent lawsuit against the state police. The lawsuit alleges that the police violated the first amendment rights of three church members who were arrested for reading the Bible in public. What the lawsuit doesn’t mention is the fact that the men had previously been told that if they wanted to preach to a captive audience on state property, they must first obtain a permit. The men refused and came back again to preach without going through the proper channels. The lawsuit, and the church lawyers, also failed to mention that another group had recently successfully obtained a permit to preach at the same site, never once violating the law.

This particular church is somewhat notorious for its loud in-your-face style of evangelism which comes across as offensive to most who hear it. The young intern, however, left an impression as well by simply revealing that he was a Christian in a very non-offensive manner and then listening to a man as he relived some of the highlights of his life in the Navy.

Someday, the middle aged ex-sailor may begin to see Christianity as a desirable option because of this encounter with the intern. He may also learn to see Christianity as a frightening option if he reads the newspaper and hears about the arrogant church who feels the need to ignore the law and shove the Bible down the throats of anyone within earshot. Both churches preach the Gospel, but only one of them reaches the lost.

* For a very thoughtful analysis of the church situation mentioned in the post, please see http://mayheincrease.com/2011/05/thoughts-on-the-arrest-of-calvary-chapel-hemet-pastors/?doing_wp_cron

Dating

My wife and I have always been pretty good about squeezing regular date nights into our busy schedules. A typical date lasts around an hour and a half and consists of Mexican food and a trip to Target. Any longer than that and the babysitting money would dry up too quickly. Any shorter than that and the Mexican food would have to come from the drive thru window instead of the inside counter. Last weekend we had the rare opportunity to to replace Target with a comedy show and extend the date time to about seven hours. The Mexican food, although from a different counter, is a non-negotiable.

Thanks to an overnighter with Grandma and Grandpa, four-fifths of the kids were taken care of. The last fifth stayed with us, but picked a perfect window for her seven-hour Saturday evening nap. As Sunday morning dawned, the simplicity of life with four kids gone slowly sunk in. We only had to get one kid ready for church and we didn't even have to fix breakfast for any of them since babies don't require any preparation. Blessed with infinite amounts of wisdom when it comes to these kind of situations, I quickly realized an opportunity when I saw it. My wife loves a big breakfast, so I scored a point and a half in her book (400 in mine) by obliging her with a huge homemade breakfast burrito.

Then the reality of what we had done sunk in. "Whose going to clear the table?" I asked.

"The kids usually do it," she replied.

"But they're at Grandma's," I said. Fortunately I am blessed with infinite amounts of wisdom when it comes to these kind of situations, so I quickly added, "So I'll do it today." Then I noticed that the dishwasher was full of clean dishes. "I guess Zach's not going to unload the dishwasher this morning?" Wandering over to the trash can I noticed that it was looking full. Glancing around I noticed that there was once again a glaring absence of children in the home.

"Honey," I said. "We need kids." As if on queue, one of the dogs started barking. Guess whose job it is to feed them? Apparently mine on this fine morning.

All this talk of dating got me thinking. With five kids of my own, the subject is bound to come up sooner or later. Using my infinite blessing of wisdom I decided to take things into my own hands rather than wait to deal with it after the fact. My oldest girl is seven and she seemed like a good place to start. Not just because she is a girl, but because she is a flirtatious girl. Allow me to illustrate. Although home schooled, she occasionally takes a class or two at the local charter school. It was about a year ago when the teacher told us that she spent the morning holding hands with a boy. That was the last time we let her out of the house.

Tonight, though, I wanted to make sure things were clear. "Maddie," I said. "How old do you have to be to have a boyfriend?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Eighteen," I said. "You can't have a boyfriend until you are eighteen."

"But, Daddy," she said with the most innocent smile you've ever seen, "I already have like ten of them."

"Ten is fine as long as you have all ten at the same time," I wisely replied knowing that all those jealous boys would end up doing something to make her think men are pigs. "Then when you are eighteen you can narrow it down to three or four."

On second thought, I'd have to let her out of the house to do that. That leaves me no choice. Please submit all applications for arranged marriage to me no later than next Thursday. I will then review the applications, verify the gene pool, eliminate all candidates with back hair in the family since the grandkids will get that from my side anyway, watch how you raise your child, then make a decision for her when the time is right.

Breakthrough

Potty training, teaching a child to ride a bike, filing for a child’s first patent. These are all small milestones in the life of a parent. Small victories that collectively add up to the great joy of being called Mommy or Daddy.

As with all victories, there must be a series of defeats as one masters an art or learns a skill. Some of the lessons and values we hope to instill in our children gently slide out of our mouths and are reflected through our actions only to slither past the unsuspecting child unnoticed. For my oldest daughter, the notion of swiftly doing anything has been elusive for many years.

If you have read this blog from the beginning, you may recall my post about Slowpoke She. In this allegorical story, I describe the pace of my momentumly-challenged daughter as she moseys her way through each day. Suffice it to say, speed is not her forte. Now, as a healthy, vibrant seven-year-old, it has become of critical importance that she learn to pick up the pace. (So says Mommy with the familiar “You-deal-with-your-child” look on her face.)

True joy came a few weeks ago when we finally found something that motivated her. The simplicity of the system is amazing and its effectiveness astounding. With the birth of our fifth child, the need for the older ones to become more independent became very apparent. To help her move along, in a moment of frustration I put a Post-It note on her bedroom mirror. I then told her that every time she finished a job after the timer went off, she had to record how many minutes late she was. At the end of the week we would add up the numbers and if it was less than 10, she could watch a 30 minute video on Friday.

To sweeten the pot, I also told her that she could earn positive points by finishing jobs early. Each time a job was finished before the timer sounded, she could add two positive points that would work toward offsetting the negatives. The math may be a bit complicated when you are in the second grade, but she gets the gist of it.

Yesterday I came home and noticed that the table in our homeschool room, an area of the house that usually has clutter on it, was completely clean. “Wow, the table is clean.”

“We just put everything where it belongs,” Maddie replied.

“What I great idea,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It was all Mommy’s idea,” Maddie replied proudly giving credit where it was due.

“Your mommy sure is full of great ideas.” I responded chuckling at my daughter’s honesty. A week ago, that job would have taken over an hour. Now, after only a few minutes, the table was clean.

Tonight, my little girl proudly said to me, “Daddy, come look at my chart!” Her smile said it all as she showed me all the positives far outnumbering the negatives. For me, the math is easy. It used to be that my little princess would waste 15 to 20 hours a week completing tasks that should take mere minutes. Now she works fast all week then watches a 30 minute video on Fridays. And I like the way that adds up.

That's Not Great!

Years ago before we were married, I made a conscious decision to love my wife. Prior to that exact moment, I was confused about my feelings toward her. Though we had been dating for several months, there was a part of me that thought she was perfect and yet another part of me wasn’t so sure. I felt torn by my own indecision until one day I couldn’t help but realize that she was everything I was looking for. It was at a very specific defining moment that I decided to love her no matter what. Just over one year from that day we were married and I have never looked back.

The important detail here is that my love for my wife was not an instantaneous event. It didn’t start with a switch. Rather it came to fruition over a period of time. It grew (and continues to grow) on me as I daily commit myself to loving her.

Ours is not a dramatic love story, but we are committed to loving each other forever. It is that kind of commitment that seems so fleeting today. Divorce and single parenthood are now the norm. This sad reality was made apparent to me the other day as I sat in a meeting with a mom and another educational professional. The purpose of our meeting was to exit a student from a special education program due to his tremendous progress. As the meeting unfolded, a picture of this student was painted depicting him as a model student who worked hard to overcome adversity. The tone was overwhelmingly positive as the mom beamed with pride for her son.

Toward the end of the meeting, the mom smiled as she announced that her son had not seen his father in over a year and that he would get to spend two weeks with him this summer. Upon hearing this, the other educational professional in the room smiled and in the warmest, most sincere voice said, “That is so great.”

As soon as she said that, I felt a knot appear in my stomach and I wanted to jump out of my seat and shout out, “No! You’re wrong! That’s not great! It’s a horrible, horrible tragedy!” Divorce and awful parenting have become so normal in our society that we now view it as “great” when a child gets to see his dad for two weeks every other year.

The truth is that kids need the firmness of a father and the nurturing love of a mother. They need the fun that dad brings to the family and the routine that mom provides. Kids need a balanced perspective that can only come from two people who have a common goal seen from a different point of view.

Many absent parents today assume the role of coach rather than parent. A parent is present in the home and models life for his children. A coach meets with a child at a specified time to teach a specific skill. Parents show their children how to maintain a loving relationship throughout the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life. Coaches discuss issues and try to prepare their team for the unknown, but can’t quite replicate reality. Parents respond immediately to issues, coaches respond at the next scheduled practice.

The greatest tragedy of our time is not that parents are divorcing. The greatest tragedy of our time is that we view the tragedy of divorce as normal. The shame of divorce is gone, replaced instead by a new normality. We now think it is great that a child gets to spend two weeks with his dad over the summer. We cheer when parents work out a 50/50 split of their children following the divorce because “It’s for the best.” Tragedies do happen, but they should be the exception, not the norm.

Mother's Day

There are some things that every mom can claim having done. They all change diapers and clean up messes. They all cook meals and do the laundry. Every mom drives kids around to various events and moms everywhere take care of little boo-boos and sick kids. My mom did all that, but she did something else that no other mom has done. She picked my dad. 

Her wisdom in that selection showed maturity beyond her 18 years. Times were tough at the start, but soon enough kids started making appearances in thier lives. First one, then another, followed by even more. This brings us to another of Mom’s unique accomplishments. She raised five kids. Sure other moms have raised five kids, but none have raised her five kids. And we are not just any five. We are five who have grown and matured through the years. Five who have followed our parents examples. Five who have claimed a faith in Jesus Christ as our own. We are five who have multiplied. We are five who have passed the faith of our parents on to our kids. 

We are five who get along. We are five who enjoy each other’s company. We are five who come back home as often as we can. And we have Mom to thank for that. Since she made such a perfect choice in husbands, all that Mom is, Dad is too. Together they meet the needs of many. They give without a second thought. They want the best for us and for everyone they meet. 

They notice the little things but never force themselves into anything. They know we will come to them if we need them. That’s the way we were raised. Their advice is always sound, the encouragement welcome.  They revel in our joys and share in a piece of our pains.

Their home is still our home. The door is always open because it is more than a home, it’s a community. It’s a place where anyone is welcome. Family events often include those who were not born into the family, but arrived one day and never left. 

Our lives are rare, but not impossible to duplicate. The foundation is clear and that has never changed. Now, as a father of five myself, I strive everyday to create a home where my children feel about their parents the same way I feel about mine. 

Mom and I are alike in many ways, but the lesson I learned best is the importance of picking the perfect spouse. And that I did. I hope to one day look back and proudly say that together, we did as good of a job raising our kids as Mom and Dad did with theirs.