Yearly Archives: 2012

Daily Life, Kathy

Potatoes of Compassion

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Whenever Kathy goes out of town, I find myself in a conundrum.

On the one hand, I don’t want her to worry about us. She doesn’t leave us without good reason; I don’t want her to feel that she can’t leave us alone for a couple of days. Also, I am vaguely proud of my survival skills. I married at 26, and before that, I lived off the land (as it were) for many a year. Although you might not guess it from watching me now, I can do laundry, cook (after a fashion) and I frequently dress myself in clothes that don’t violate international fashion treaties.

On the other hand, I want Kathy to feel that we miss her. If we are able to thrive in her absence, it follows (at least in her mind) that we don’t need her. She seems to overlook the way that she makes our house into a home, adds fun and beauty to our lives, and loves us in ways that I cannot even fake.

But then I remember: if we exaggerate our competence, then no one feels sorry for us, and no one makes us meals. As it is, Kathy’s friends look after us when she is gone — shaking their heads at me and muttering to one another, “Those poor children … ”

We're always pretty hungry on AWANA nights.

Tonight, for example, we feasted on creamed corn, mashed potato casserole, a tasty meatloaf and a fruit salad, handed to us by kind friends after AWANA.

No, there’s no profit in being anything other than pathetic.

In any case, I do not begrudge Kathy her travels. Today is the one-year anniversary of her Papa’s passing, from this world to the next. As the apostle Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:8:

“We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.”

For a year, now, Bill Moore has been with the Lord — one wonders how he has been using that time. How many of his questions have been answered, how many bookshelves has he built, how big is his garden? I do know that we miss him greatly, and look forward to the day when we also can be present with the Lord.

Until then, we’ll eat the potatoes of compassion, and wait for Kathy to come home.

Tim

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AWANA, Being a Disciple of Jesus

The Thankful Chair

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In my perpetual search for AWANA teaching points, I often review the skits on Skit Guys for something that will resonate with the third-to-fifth graders in the Truth and Training program.

Thinking of what the Bible has to say about thankfulness, I determined early in the year to take special effort to teach the kids the foundational importance of giving thanks to God for His many good gifts. As the apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonian Church:

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. — I Thessalonians 5:18

So I bought this short video, and I show it from time to time:

Each week, I ask my leaders to pick a volunteer. We set up a special ‘Thankful Chair’ on the stage, and the volunteer sits in the chair, and tells us how and why they are thankful to God.

One week, my heart froze as I saw the girl who was chosen as the volunteer: her father had been killed in a training accident just four weeks before. She came forward and stood beside me, looking a little nervous, but otherwise calm.

My mind raced. “How can I ask this hurting girl what she is thankful for? How can I put her on display in front of her classmates, when her heart must be raw with grief?” I floundered for a way to escape, but found nothing. I realized that this must be God’s doing. “God, please don’t let me cause any further harm,” I prayed.

A way to remember our duty and joy of thanksgiving to God.

So I sat her in the chair, and asked her the standard question: “What are you thankful for?”

She spoke up boldly, with hardly a quaver in her ten-year-old voice. “I’m thankful for a good family. Even though my Dad has died, I still have a family who loves me and takes care of me.”

I hugged her and sent her back to her seat, in awe of her faith and her trust in God. Would that I could be so thankful, in the midst of such loss!

Tim

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Daily Life, Grandparents, Kathy

President’s Day

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Today was one of the 8 annual holidays that my company recognizes. It is always a little surprising to me that President’s Day makes the cut of Federal holidays, while Veterans Day does not.

As we talked about possible celebrations, Joshua suggested to me that people should honor the day by quizzing one another with Presidential Trivia.

“Who was the 23rd President?” he challenged, abruptly.

“Um, Martin Van Buren?” I hazarded, wildly.

“Not even close,” Joshua told me. “… but not a bad try. I didn’t even think you knew who Martin Van Buren was.”

“Huh. Imagine, me, not knowing the ‘Red Fox of Kinderhook’? You must be joking.”

The Red Fox, himself

OK, I admit, that last line was added after-the-fact, thanks to the interweb. I’d be hard-pressed to name a dozen presidents outside the ones who have served in my lifetime, truth be told. It might be just me, but I don’t think Joshua’s idea will catch on.

Instead, we spent the day playing computer games, shaving one of our cats*, watching Courageous, reading The Hobbit, and scanning slides. Kathy’s going back to Michigan this week (with Rachel) to grieve with her Mama on the first anniversary of her Dad’s death. We wanted to do as much as a family, together, as we could, since we’ll be fragmented this week. Joshua was away visiting Union in Tennessee over the weekend — it was nice to have a day off when we were all home.

*Not out of cruelty, but for a good reason.

I did come across this photo of Kathy and her Dad on Prom night …

Kathy and her Dad

We miss our Grandad. Our hearts are with Kathy and Mamie as they gather with other family members to remember the passing of Bill Moore, one year ago this week.

Tim

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Musings, Tim

Global Missions Weekend

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Each year, our church spends a weekend focusing on Global Missions, with special speakers, extra events, and (usually) a concert of prayer as a finale. It was deeply irritating to Joshua that he would be out of town for this year’s missions event. Ever since his trip to Niger in January 2010, our oldest son has been interested in missions in general, and in Africa in particular.

Jon and Christine hope to return to Niger this summer.

“I’ll just tell the folks at church that you don’t care about missions,” I told him, consolingly.

“Thanks, Dad — nice to know you’ve got my back,” Joshua responded. It is these little moments of father-son bonding that make me so successful as a Dad.

This year, there was a missions speaker for the men’s breakfast on Saturday, and for all three services. Then there was a missions dinner celebrating the imminent sendoff of three families from our church — one to a rural church-plant project, another to a hospital in Ethiopia, and a third to Niger.

The Ayers family will be working at the Soddo hospital in Ethiopia

Whenever we have missions speakers, I tend to get charged-up about being a missionary myself. When I was a little boy, I wanted to be a missionary, and (even now) I still feel the pull of it.

After the sermon by Ralph Sauers (who was very enthusiastic), two of my kids were talking about going on a short-term missions trip. It is encouraging to see my teenagers catching the vision of God’s love for the world.

Carl and Drea will be serving with Village Missions in the rural village of Vesta, Washington.

Last year I started the online application for Wycliffe Bible Translators, but I soon became fearful, and never finished the application process. I was supposed to meet with the area IT recruiter for Wycliffe, but I never made it a priority. I find there are a couple of things that hold me back from being willing to take active steps:

  • I feel inadequate.

    • It has been said that if you’re not being a missionary where you are, then why would you expect to be any more effective when hampered by cultural and language barriers? My gifts lie in teaching and generosity, and (apart from my work in AWANA) there is very little of the evangelist about me. Also, I am in my mid forties, and I’m at least 40 pounds overweight. What if I couldn’t survive in a field mission environment, because the physical conditions were too difficult for me?

  • I fear discomfort.

    • As an American with a well-paying job, I’m used to a fair bit of comfort. I like having hot showers and cold Diet Cokes. What if God’s calling comes without some of the comforts I’ve come to expect from life? What if I have to scrimp and save just to keep my children in clothing, like many missionaries do?

  • I’m suspicious that my yearning for missions work is a thinly-disguised, Christian version of a mid-life crisis.

    • Maybe God has called me simply to be faithful in the work He has already given me — the work of being a disciple of Jesus, a husband, a father, an elder, an AWANA director, a Sunday School teacher, a friend?

I would love to hear a reaction to this, from any of you who read this blog posting. Do you think I’m deluding myself, building up a romantic picture of missions work in my mind, out of boredom? Or could this be a legitimate calling of God?

Resources

Carl’s Blog
Ralph Sauer’s website
Soddo Hospital, Ethiopia
Serving In Mission

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David, Events

Ice Skating Surprise

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With seven people in the house, it is surprising how often birthdays come around (except mine, which stubbornly holds to a once-a-year frequency). Because of this, we don’t celebrate a ‘big’ (expensive) party every year for every child. We’ve tried to alternate between a ‘family-only’ party one year, and a larger event including friends, the next.

This year it was particularly important to make a big deal of David’s birthday, because Kathy was away last year for his tenth birthday, attending her father on his death-bed. David has not let us forget this, over the intervening year. “I just really like it when both my parents can be home for my birthday,” he explained, earnestly. “I didn’t really get a party last year,” he told us, somehow not complaining, yet tugging at our heart-strings all the same.

The birthday boy, himself.

Just to be difficult, Kathy and I decided to introduce a little doubt about this year’s party. That’s how we roll, as parents.

“I don’t know, David. You know Mom and I have been trying to stay on a budget. These parties can get expensive,” we told him. “I suppose maybe you could have one or two friends over for a small party,” we grudgingly admitted.

David is very concerned about our budget, and will often ask us not to spend money on him. Kathy had decided to throw him a surprise ice skating party, and a little misdirection goes a long way to maintaining a surprise of this nature.

Kathy already wrote about the actual birthday itself, but that was a family affair. We scheduled his ‘friend party’ for today, the following Saturday. On the day of the party, David and I rose early to attend a men’s prayer breakfast at church, which had the happy effect of getting us out of the house for the morning, while Kathy and the girls prepared. After the breakfast, David and I went to pick up his friend Eli, and then on to Alex’s house. David knew he was having some kind of party with these two boys, but I chose to be closemouthed about any details.

Rachel brought a few friends along, to round out the party.

“What do we do after we pick up Alex?” David asked me.

“I’ll have to check and see if I have any instructions,” I told him in my most boring voice of a Dad-who-is-not-really-paying-attention. Eventually I took them to a donut shop, so they could each pick out a personal donut. But I still had time to kill. So I stopped off at church, and took the long way to the ice rink — all along, David had no clue what we were doing.

When we got to the rink, David somehow missed the ‘Ice Arena’ sign. “Are we going rock climbing? he asked. “They have tennis here, too,” one of his friends suggested, playing along.

Watching for the Zamboni

Inside the doors of the recreational center, David saw Angie L., leaning casually against the wall. “How odd,” he thought. “What a coincidence that she would be there!”

David is blessed with a fine group of friends.

Then they all yelled ‘Surprise!’ and the whole crowd gathered ’round with presents and congratulations. Even then, David couldn’t see the ice. “Are all these people going rock climbing with us?” he wondered. It wasn’t until they opened the doors and he was issued his skates, that he realized we were all ice skating, something he’d been wanting for months.

Sarah helped me around the rink a couple of times.

It was a very successful party. Nancy and Debbie and Niki and Jacque helped with the refreshments, and no one was badly hurt. I managed to escape with only minor knee injuries. Even more surprising, 25 people kept the party a secret, in spite of several accidental references, which happily went over David’s head.

On the way home, I couldn’t help asking how this party compared with previous ones, including the legendary ‘Best Party Ever’ that Joshua arranged for David in 2009. As always, David found a diplomatic way to answer the question.

“It was a great party, Dad. It was at least as good as that party, maybe even better,” he sighed in satisfaction.

Tim

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