All posts by Tim

Subtlety

I got a strange email from my oldest son, today. It was rather cryptic and obscure — I couldn’t really figure out what he was getting at. Sometimes it is best to just say things plainly, but you know how these college students are — so clever, maybe even too clever.

He seems so straightforward in this picture, you'd think he could say what he meant.

He seems so straightforward in this picture, you’d think he could say what he meant.

Here’s the text of the email:

“My oh my, what a lovely day. I almost think the only thing that could make this day better would be if I had a blog post to read from my beloved family.”

“Gee, guys, my parents always taught me not to steal from helpless old ladies, so we should probably call it a night. On the other hand, they haven’t blogged in so long, they must be trying to tell me that everything they taught me previously is null and void… So lets go for it!”

“As my old Pappy used to say,
– Fortune favors the blogger.
– When in Rome, blog as the Romans do.
– When the blogging gets tough, the tough get blogging
– People who live in glass houses should blog more.
– Birds of a feather blog together.
– Discretion is the better part of blogging.
– Never look a gift blog in the mouth.
– If it ain’t broke, blog about it.
– One man’s trash is another man’s blog.
– Beauty is in the eye of the blogger.
– Necessity is the mother of blogging.
– A blog is only as strong as its weakest paragraph.
or something like that.”

“Studies have shown that the only concrete difference between those college students who do well in school and those who flunk out and join motorcycle gangs is this: The successful students all had parents who blogged often and included lots of pictures, while the unsuccessful students, without exception, all had parents who claimed they were ‘too busy’ to blog.”

As you can see, I was at a loss. What could he possibly be looking for? Is he asking for a care package? Is he hinting that he is having trouble in his classes? Trouble with a roommate?

I’m stumped. Please help, dear reader.

Tim

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Tennis, Anyone?

One of the really nice things about living in Washington is that Spring can come pretty early. While folks in the East and Midwest dig themselves out from under another snowstorm, we sometimes enjoy sunshine and temperatures in the 50′s or even 60′s.

And of course, when the weather turns to Spring, a young man’s heart turns toward … tennis.

David the Tennis Pro stands ready

David the Tennis Pro stands ready

A few years ago, I introduced the kids to tennis — at the time we had a membership to a local pool that included a tennis court, and I thought it might make a nice change from swimming (since I swim like an elderly, crippled walrus). Although Joshua likes to play, he rudely took himself off to college, and almost never plays with us anymore. Daniel and Rachel didn’t really ‘take’ to tennis, but Sarah and David really seem to enjoy it.

David is a pretty good player, and he likes to get me out on the court and run me around for an hour or so. If he can get me sufficiently tired and thirsty, I’ll stop at 7-Eleven on the way home, so it is a win/win from his perspective — entertainment AND refreshment, all in one outing.

Don't let the innocent expression fool you -- this kid wields a diabolical raquet.

Don’t let the innocent expression fool you — this kid wields a diabolical racquet.

Some tennis players stand on the baseline and rely on speed and control, but I’m more of a sneaky-drop-shot kind of guy, and David reciprocates by slicing the ball as much as he can. Failing that, he lures me to the net, where I’m sure to make a fool of myself.

Of course, most of the time, Spring equals Rain in our part of the world. But this doesn’t seem to disconcert my Washington-bred kids — they have no problem standing around in the rain, as if it is perfectly normal behavior. I guess once you’ve swum the icy waters of the glacier-fed Duckabush River, you can empathize with Eponine from Les Miserables: “A little fall of rain can hardly hurt you now”. Whenever we see an umbrella (in a movie, or sometimes at church) the kids make a big deal of asking about it:

“Why is that lady carrying a portable roof?” they ask.

“It is called an Umbrella,” I explain, patiently. “People use them because they think the umbrella will protect them from evil spirits in the raindrops.”

I don’t think anyone ever claimed that Pacific Northwest humor was particularly funny.

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The Reading Challenge Begins … Again

In the weeks before David’s birthday, I began thinking of all the good books I read when I was a young teenager.

“Books are important,” I told Kathy. “They can cast a vision for what it means to be a man. I want David to read some of those good books.”

You know the kind of books I mean. The books that teach the important things — books about loyalty and honor and courage and self-sacrifice. Books with larger-than-life heroes who set the standard for manhood.

David is a big fan of the Artemis Fowl series.

David is a big fan of the Artemis Fowl series.

So I did a quick pass through my library and wrote to a few of my friends and family members, asking for lists of books that they would recommend. Soon, I had a whole shelf’s worth. Except I didn’t have a shelf.

“Hey, Kathy, I need a shelf. How ’bout this one?” I pointed to a promising shelf in our living room at eye level for David. Immediately, I knew something was wrong, by the look on Kathy’s face.

Homeschooling Moms get a little territorial about bookshelves. Whenever we need a blank wall for a photo, we have to go outside or to someone else’s house, because we have bookshelves in every place that could possibly fit one. A quick survey of the house tells me that we have thirty (30) bookshelf units in our home, most with at least 5 shelves. But do you think Kathy will relinquish one in a prime location? Not likely. Eventually, she grudgingly made the top shelf of one of the units available.

Our new shelf o' good, manly books.

Our new shelf o’ good, manly books.

I talked it over with David, and he and I agreed that we would start a Reading Challenge. We would both abstain from playing computer games for a certain period of time — maybe a few weeks, or a month, in which we would focus on reading some of the good books on that shelf.

My newly-teenaged son wanted to start the challenge when he got back from the Middle School retreat (and after he had a full week to enjoy his new Lego Marvel Heroes game). Of course, Sarah wanted to participate too, and is actually the only one who has already finished a book (and written the requisite book report). She is a bit of an over-achiever.

David spent today abstaining from computer games, and trying to finish a book that Joshua gave him for his birthday. I had a few meetings this evening, and (when I finally returned from working out at the gym) I settled into my computer chair. Out of habit, I toggled to one of my favorite computer games, and was playing it serenely when my youngest son walked up behind me.

Sins of a Solar Empire -- hardly an auspicious title for one of my favorite games.

Sins of a Solar Empire — hardly an auspicious title for one of my favorite games.

“You’re playing a computer game!” he accused, aghast. “What about our Reading Challenge?”

“Oooh, you forgot about the challenge,” Kathy and Sarah joined in, gleefully.

I'm hoping David remembers the 'love mercy' part on his shirt.

I’m hoping David remembers the ‘love mercy’ part on his shirt.

As a father, I usually try to set a good example to my children, by rigorously keeping my word and being as honest and faithful as I can. It is so easy to compromise one’s integrity in our culture, I feel that I need to hold the line as faithfully as I can, to show my children that it is still possible. I hope that I can one day say, like Paul did to the Corinthians, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”

This was not one of those days.

“How ’bout we start the Reading Challenge tomorrow,” I suggested, rather timidly. “It was an honest mistake, I’m sure you understand. The game was already running on my computer, and I just forgot … ”

One thing about parenting, it keeps you humble. I guess tomorrow we’ll start the Reading Challenge … again.

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Best Valentine Ever

Strangely enough, this isn’t a post about my Sweetie, who often gives me funny (or sometimes sizzling hot) Valentines. This, in spite of the fact that Kathy celebrated V-Advent this year by hanging little bags of candy and Valentines for each of us in the week before Valentines’ Day.

Kathy left at least a half-dozen bags of nuts and candy for me, as Valentines' Day approached.

Kathy pinned-up at least a half-dozen bags of nuts and candy for me, as Valentines’ Day approached.

Hard as it is to compete with chocolate, I actually think that the best valentine I have received so far was from my youngest daughter, Sarah. I’ll post a picture of it so you can be the judge.

The hearts on the outside of the Valentine were a good sign, I thought.

The hearts on the outside of the Valentine were a good sign, I thought.

One of the problems with being a Dad, is that you often seem to be doomed to failure. You will inevitably make mistakes (some of us make them every day) and you will not always be loving, faithful or wise. Even when you do succeed by any objective standard, you will often be rejected by children who are blinded by their own sin, or misunderstood and resisted by the spouse that you thought was on your side. No, being a Dad is not for the faint of heart.

Sarah got a kick out of Kathy's silly V-Advent messages.

Sarah got a kick out of Kathy’s silly V-Advent messages.

One of my favorite illustrations of this is from the movie, While You Were Sleeping. In the course of the film, we discover that one of the main characters, Jack, does not want to continue in his family’s business, yet he feels trapped, wanting to please his father. Now that his brother has come out of a coma, Jack catches his Dad in a wistful, reflective frame of mind. He senses that it is time to get things out in the open. Sitting down one morning with his Dad, armed with a box of donuts, Jack seizes the moment:

Pop: “You work hard, try to provide for the family, and then for one minute everything’s good. Everyone’s well, everyone’s happy, and in that one minute, you have peace.”

Jack: “Pop … this isn’t that minute.”

Jack goes on to tell his Dad that he wants to quit working for him, but rather seeks to go into business for himself, making rocking chairs.

Rachel seems to become more beautiful, every year!

Rachel seems to become more beautiful, every year!

I often feel like the Dad in the film — this isn’t that minute. It seems like we constantly move from crisis to crisis, battling 18×7 for the hearts of our children against a hostile, worldly culture and other evil forces that want to devour them. But there is a part of me that is desperately weary of the struggle, and really yearns for that minute.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, Sarah came up to see me in my office upstairs, where I work from home several days a week.

“Hey, Dad, I made you a Valentine.” She handed it to me, smiled, and left. Opening it, I got the chance to cherish one of those moments that a Dad lives for.

It seems that Sarah likes me.

It seems that Sarah likes me.

One of the things that Kathy and I have been talking about recently is the hunger that we all seem to have, to be truly known. As the scripture says:

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. — 1 Corinthians 13:12

Sarah hit the nail on the head when she appreciated me for my love of teaching, my generosity and my whimsical silliness, three traits at the very core of who I am. It is delightful to be known and valued and loved as a Dad. Thanks, Sarah, for a great Valentine!

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Terrific Thirteen

I must admit, our family really likes to celebrate. I knew when I married Kathy that it was part of the deal — she absolutely loves to start traditions that build our joy as a family. And of course, if you do something twice, it becomes a tradition …

This weekend was no exception. With Valentines’ Day on Friday and David’s 13th birthday on Sunday, it seemed a good time to have a party. Kathy reserved a room at our church and invited a bunch of David’s friends (and their families, who happen to also be our friends), and started making pizzas.

There is nothing quite as tasty as Kathy's homemade pizza ... except maybe another piece of her pizza ...

There is nothing quite as tasty as Kathy’s homemade pizza … except maybe another piece of her pizza …

Kathy’s pizzas are awesome. She called me on the way home from homeschool co-op, to ask my advice.

“Shall we just buy five-dollar pizzas from Little Caesar’s?” she asked.

“Um, your pizza is way better,” I suggested. “Maybe I could help you, and we could make a bunch?” My renown as a sous chef in the kitchen is legendary.

Round up the usual suspects ... and have a Birthday Party!

Round up the usual suspects … and have a Birthday Party!

Kathy’s Nana has a great all-purpose bread recipe called Mesa Manna, which Kathy uses for the pizza crust. Her Mom built on that by adding a mix of italian sausage to her hamburger pizzas, which is a real crowd-pleaser. Adding to that pizza-making heritage, we use barbecue sauce and make Hawaiian pizzas (ham and pineapple) which are usually the first to be eaten.

For the party itself, we came up with the idea of Olympic games, since the Winter Olympics are going on in Sochi now. Three of the games made the cut: Speed skating, curling, and bobsledding.

Sarah, the bobsledding champion from Great Britain's Winter Olympic team.

Sarah, the bobsledding champion from Great Britain’s Winter Olympic team.

It was a little tricky to simulate these events in our church fellowship hall, but we managed. We awarded gold, silver and bronze medals for the winners of each event, with prizes for everyone who participated.

Personally, I prefer Oreos, Reeses' cups, and M&M's, but there are some who enjoy the gummi bears.

Personally, I prefer Oreos, Reeses’ cups, and M&M’s, but there are some who enjoy the gummi bears.

Ice cream sundaes rounded out any calories that were lacking from the pizza lunch, with toppings galore for every possible appetite. David opened his presents and was generally celebrated in high style by our many gracious friends.

David and his birthday posse.

David and his birthday posse.

When Daniel turned thirteen, Rachel and Joshua told him that thirteen was actually just a practice year before becoming an actual teenager. He is a trusting soul, and spent the year correcting friends who thought otherwise. Lately, I’ve been hearing them tell David the same thing. With the word ‘teenager’ having such a negative connotation in our society, I’m hesitant to call him by that label, lest I ruin all their earnest effort.

Teenager or not, I’m so very thankful for David William, born just after midnight, in the middle of a snowstorm, thirteen years ago. Thank you, Lord, for adding him to our family!

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