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P365 – Day 104

In Kathy’s absence, I find myself driven to write a blog to break the silence. Perhaps her recent phone call explains my motivation:

“If you can lay on the couch in good conscience and read your book while there is no blog posting for today or yesterday, then go right ahead,” Kathy suggested. So here I am, taking up the sacred keyboard out of sheer guilt.

Truth be told, I would never dare to take up the actual sacred keyboard, that is, Kathy’s cool wireless keyboard. Somehow, in spite of the fact that I am the resident computer professional, her computer is the best and newest one, with the biggest monitor, and (much to my chagrin) the comfiest chair. I’m writing from a straight-backed chair at my own tiny desk in the corner, having (finally) outlasted the kids and their incessant Webkinz playing. Such idle amusements are not permitted on Kathy’s computer.

Today we celebrated my Mom’s birthday, cheerfully ignoring the fact that her birthday was on Wednesday. In keeping with her own character, and (perhaps) in honor of our recent attempts to reduce our expenses, Mom asked for work instead of presents. We piled into the van at about 7:20 this morning (shudder) and drove out to the Duckabush, where we spent about 2 1/2 hours pulling Oregon Grape fragments out of what seemed like acres of muddy hillside.

Mom and Daniel working on a stubborn root
We had a competition to see who could get the longest root segment — of course, mine was the longest, although Grandma and Daniel made a creditable effort.

We planted 20-some trees (Dad said they were Turkish firs, but I wasn’t fooled) with the help of Chaplain Ted, who has been staying out at the Duckabush and was duped into being part of this project.

David and Sarah hauling trees
David and Sarah were very helpful planting each tree and marking them with little orange flags.

As energies flagged, Grandpa entertained the kids with tractor rides (and promptly ran out of gas). We broke for lunch (hot dogs at the Gazebo) and stalled until the rain settled in. We played games and read stories and enjoyed cake, hoping that the rain would continue so we wouldn’t have to go back out and do more clearing. As is often the case in the Spring, the sun shone brightly while the rain poured down for much of the afternoon.

We couldn't find the elders, so we laid hands on it ourselves.
It turns out that playing with the tractor was a lot more fun than pulling Oregon Grape out of a hillside.

It was a fun day, and Mom seemed to enjoy it. I was very proud of my children, who did very little complaining or whining, at least on a per-capita basis. Joshua, Rachel and Daniel plugged away at the ground-cover removal, and Rachel kept a stiff upper lip about an outbreak of hives (apparently aggravated by the cold temperatures). David and Sarah worked with Chaplain Ted to plant a number of the so-called Turkish firs, and even I managed to keep my whining down to a low mumble.

Buried Treasure
Chaplain Ted shows the proper way to plant a tree.

I took a few minutes to walk around the main lodge of The Refuge, admiring the progress made since my last visit. The kids and I agreed that we disliked the yellow and blue outside wall coloring — funny that Grandma and Grandpa would put so much effort into designing such a beautiful lodge and yet neglect such basic asthetic matters.

Main Refuge Lodge
Grandpa claims that logs will cover up the unsightly blue and yellow, but we’re not fooled.

On the way home we saw the most spectacular rainbow, which, of course, I didn’t capture with my camera. It was a double rainbow, and it was very deep and vibrant with color — so much so, that there seemed to be two nearly complete rainbows mapped out in the bands of the primary half-ring. As we drove along, it seemed the rainbow ended just a few hundred yards away in the marshlands — we were tempted to go hunting for a pot o’ gold, or at least a box of Lucky Charms.

A rainbow on the way home
This is not the rainbow that we saw … it was another rather pathetic one … but I was determined to have SOME kind of picture of a rainbow.

When we arrived home, Joshua made us pancakes while I collapsed on Doughboy (our couch, not a slow-moving family pet). I was very proud of him — he is on dinner dishes duty, which meant that he had to clean up everything as well — he is a very diligent and cheerful boy who we are beginning to rely upon a little too heavily. As I struggled to wake up enough to work on my Sunday School class, he even decorated the downstairs with crepe paper streamers for Daniel’s birthday tomorrow. Truly, a delightful boy.

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P365 – Day 90 (Pancakes w/Asparagus)

This morning Kathy had the privilege of driving a good friend to the airport at 5:30 in the morning. I tried not to snicker into my pillow as she stumbled around the bathroom … such actions do not promote marital bliss, in my experience. Still, it was hard not to take some satisfaction in the thought that Kathy was sharing in one of the unpleasant facets of my life, since I have to get up early most days.

As the day progressed, it never did deliver on the promised sunshine, but stayed gloomy all day. I kept waiting for Kathy to ‘crash’, since she had stayed up late the night before. Instead, she got a little punch-happy, which was a little strange for the kids.

tim's dinner plate
Kathy always likes to ensure that there is some greenery on our plates.

I never have been very fond of asparagus, and have enjoyed it only once (when Kathy’s aunt served it in Minneapolis). As you can see, our Saturday evening traditional pancake feast took a nasty turn.

tasty pancake
I’m don’t think this photo will make it to the cover of the Williams Sonoma catalog.

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P365 – Day 67 (Chips Ahoy)

It may come as a shock, but this is Tim writing, not Kathy. With the onslaught of Project 365, I have become a stranger to my own blog, nearly forgotten in the memories of my faithful readership (both of them). Not surprisingly, the number of people reading the blog has doubled since Kathy started writing in earnest … I’ll try not to read too much into that statistic. All this is just to say that those rumors about my demotion from ‘Contributor’ (one who posts blog entries) to ‘Subscriber’ (one who can only post comments) are false (or at least mostly so).


Not long after the new year dawned, Kathy and I had an opportunity to attend the Jefferson Baptist Church Prayer Conference. This blog entry is not about that conference, however many times Kathy and I have promised to write something about it.

One outgrowth of the conference, however, was a renewed interest in writing down goals for ourselves. As it was repeated many times during the conference, “a goal that is not written down is not a goal.” We were encouraged to come up with goals in all the areas that mattered to us — spiritual goals, relational goals, financial goals, personal development goals, the list goes on and on. This blog entry is not really about those goals, either.

Most people will, by this time, have lost patience with this tiresome litany of ‘what this blog is NOT’, so I ought to include a gratuitous picture, to satisfy the masses.

David talking on the phone with Dad's glasses
This picture of David talking on my cellphone while wearing my glasses has nothing to do with this blog.

The conference speaker was asked by one of his congregants, “Do you play computer games?”, to which he answered, “Yes.” “How much time do you allow yourself to play?” She probed. “Half an hour a month,” he confided. He spoke at some length about his desire to use his time wisely and his recognition that computer games were a good way to be sucked into losing a lot of time that could be spent better in other pursuits. He likes playing some of the solitaire-style games, and so, once a month, he indulges. In retrospect, I probably should have skipped that session.

Sarah finds new and interesting uses for the chips

Are these math manipulatives?

On the way home from the conference, we thought about our parenting and the example that we (OK, mostly I) set in terms of leisure. I was convicted about the amount of time I allow my children to spend playing computer games, when they should, perhaps, be learning or playing interactively or serving others. While we don’t play that much during the week, some weekends have been dominated by computer gaming, especially during the dreary winter months here in Washington. We have noticed that when too much time is spent playing computer games, tempers grow short and a general spirit of churlish dissatisfaction descends upon the household.

kathy and the chips
Here’s the Grand High Keeper of the Chips, herself.

I also became convicted about the amount of time that I spend playing computer games. A word of warning: if you allow the Holy Spirit to convict you in one area, don’t be surprised if that spills over to another area. Truth be told, Jesus is not satisfied with anything less than all of our heart — He’s greedy that way. :)

Kathy and I talked and prayed about it, and we came up with a strange scheme. Truth be told, the idea came up thanks to our love for the online casino games we play on verajohn.se during our free time. Each Wednesday, the participants in the computer-game-rationing plan receive several poker chips. Each chip represents a period of time, such that blue chips are one hour, green chips are two hours, and white chips (formerly red) are a half-hour. Initially we started with an allotment of four hours a week, but this was soon reduced to a scant three and a half hours a week. When anyone wants to spend a chip, they must announce it, hand over the appropriate chip to Kathy, grab a timer (we have several) and carefully monitor the time they spend.

Rachel the chip miser
Rachel the chip miser

One initial hurdle we needed to overcome was the fact that we didn’t actually have any poker chips. We’d been eyeing the ones at https://sixofthebest.co/best-poker-chips-set/ for some time now. We play a lot of cards, but we don’t gamble. There is a long story behind that, but it doesn’t figure prominently here, so I’ll skip it. We zipped over to the store and found a set of 50 blue clay poker chips, very satisfying in their weight and quality. Everyone enjoys clinking them together (the sound of a dropped chip rivets the attention of all). Sarah was at first very distraught that she was excluded from the rationing plan (she really doesn’t play any non-educational computer games). She was consoled by the promise that she could play with my chips any time she wanted, and the first week of rationing was launched.

Sarah rifles through my chip stash

“Whatever you do, Sarah, don’t drop Daddy’s chips!”

As it turns out, I am used to playing quite a bit more than 210 minutes of computer games in a week. (Thirty minutes of Pirates goes by astonishingly fast.) Three and a half hours sounds like a large number … I’m pretty sure I don’t want to divulge how much I played before we started rationing. Let me say that when I am busy, days and even weeks can go by without much intensive play, but when I am idle, I can put in two or three hours some evenings, and more than that on a Saturday.

One interesting outgrowth of the plan has been the ‘chip economy’ that has developed. When a person is low on chips, they can sometimes earn more by taking on extra chores or behaving in an exceptionally good way. It is astounding how cheerful some of us are about extra work around the house, now that this reward is available. There has also been a lot more collective watching — rather than spend a chip, some children find it entertaining to watch a sibling spend one. Joshua, Rachel and David are chip-misers (in varying degrees), while Daniel and I are chip-spenders. As of this writing, Joshua has nearly 20 hours saved up (he really hates being chip-poor) while Daniel and I have less than 5 hours (and only that because yesterday was ‘payday’). Last weekend Rachel paid David a half-hour chip to clean her room; both went away very satisfied with the transaction.

Daniel counts his chips often

Daniel keeps careful track of his chips and knows EXACTLY how many he has at all times.

I find myself kicking my heels aimlessly in the evenings, some times, with a number of positive results. I’m more responsive to my younger two kids, and I’m more likely to help clean up the kitchen or talk to Kathy. I am playing many more board games than I used to, and I am enjoying some good books. I find that I am much more likely to spend time on Saturdays preparing for the Sunday School class I teach, and the time ‘lost’ working with the 5th and 6th graders on Wednesday evenings is not quite as painful as it used to be. Many nights I even go to bed earlier (a huge boon during allergy season).

The chips, in all their glory.
No, we haven’t moved to Vegas.

Because of chip-hoarding, we had to buy some additional chips to round out the initial lot of 50 one-hour chips. First we found some cheap red, white and blue plastic ones, and we adopted the red chips as half-hour chips. Sadly, these were so different in shape and quality that they suffered the same fate which befell several one-dollar coins (e.g. the Susan B. Anthony dollar and the Sacagawea dollar), here in the USA. Yesterday I was browsing in the dollar store, and found a cheap set of plastic chips which (although they don’t clink like the original blue ones) were at least the same shape and size. We adopted the green and white chips from that set, and the chip-famine of 2007 was averted. (Prior to this, an ugly threat was circulating, to the effect that existing chip hoards might be ‘nationalized’. This caused some speculators to panic, with devastating results on the chip economy. Happily, wiser heads prevailed in the Fed, and an equitable and stable monetary policy was re-established.)

The Silas Marner of chips
Joshua, the Silas Marner of chips.

I can’t tell you where this will end … Kathy keeps threatening to further tighten the chip supply, perhaps down to three hours a week or even less. As much as it pains me to say it, I am glad that we have adopted this discipline, if only because it sets a good example of self-discipline to my children in an area where Kathy and I are both lacking. Daniel watches me like a hawk, and all the children are careful to squeal on me if I play ‘just a few seconds’ beyond my timer. In a twisted way, it has substantially heightened my enjoyment of the time I play computer games — I am careful to squeeze my money’s worth out of each half-hour chip.

I am reminded of the parable of the rich fool, as related in Luke 12, which I think relates to this topic:

Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.”

Jesus replied, “Man, who appointed me a judge or an arbiter between you?” Then he said to them, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

And he told them this parable: “The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. He thought to himself, ‘What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.’ “Then he said, ‘This is what I’ll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I’ll say to myself, “You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.” ‘

“But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’

“This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God.”

In thinking of how I want to be a good steward of the time that God has given me, I need to think in terms of building with gold, silver and precious stones, rather than with straw, hay and wood. I have no idea how much time I have left, and I want my time to count for something more eternal than my personal comfort or entertainment.

Or at least all but 3.5 hours a week. :)

Tim

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70 Things My Dad Taught Me (part 7)

Dad taught me about Life

Read your Bible and pray, every day. I’ve alluded to this already, but Mom and Dad put a high priority on spending time in the Word and in prayer each day. This has paved the way for me in making these things a part of my daily routine.

How to do the “Eustace voice” (in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C.S. Lewis). While this may not seem to be a very important life-skill, it is symbolic of the many special humorous touches my Dad has inserted into his life. Dad used to read aloud to us (and to Mom) a lot, and he always did have good voices. Dad is not afraid to abandon his dignity and be a little foolish if it would entertain his children — an example I have taken firmly to heart.

How to have a great family vacation. I still remember taking a month to cross the country when we moved from Fort Lewis to New York City, camping and hiking and generally having a glorious Summer. We skied in Switzerland and Germany and traveled throughout Austria, Holland, Italy, France, Spain and England during the four years we lived in Heidelberg. Wherever we went, Mom and Dad made sure to find things that were interesting to the kids yet at the same time pushed us to expand our rather limited cultural horizons. We didn’t always stay home having rubber-band fights.


Sometimes we went camping, but mostly Mom did the cooking.

If everyone is doing something, that is a good reason not to do it. Dad used to speak derisively of the ‘peasants’ who followed the ways of the world, who chased after fame or popularity or money or self-indulgence. Through ceaseless repetition, he taught me that following the lead of others was often a recipe for displeasing God, and encouraged me to passionately seek the will of God and to resist peer pressure.

Leadership is best taught by example. Dad was never afraid or too self-important to do any hard or unpleasant thing, but walks his talk consistently. Much as I would have liked to (during some of my rebellious phases), I was never really able to make the charge of hypocrisy stick on my Dad.

Know when you are right and stick to your guns. A choleric in personality type, my Dad (well, and my Mom, too — but this is Dad’s blog) taught me to hold my ground when I knew (especially from scripture) that I was on the right path. Not quite the diplomat that my Dad is, sometimes this gets me in trouble, but I value it highly nonetheless.

How to be humble. Jesus taught a parable rebuking those who sought the best seats at banquets:

When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this man your seat.’ Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 14:7-11)

My Dad lives out the principle of this parable, and has often been asked to ‘move up to a better place’. Humility is something I have lacked in any significant amount, and I’m striving to be more like him in that regard.


I guess I just love my Dad. Here he is.

Be polite especially when speaking hard truth. Some years ago my Dad used to send out little one- or two-page notes to the soldiers he worked with in the 9th Infantry Division. Sometimes he would speak critically of a deficiency in leadership or have some other hard-to-accept teaching to communicate, but he always ended his letters with “Warm regards”. I learned (and am still learning) from my Dad that hard words don’t have to be crammed down people’s throats — sometimes “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down”. Kind of makes you want to burst into song, doesn’t it?

Take care of your stuff. Dad grew up in the years that the United States was entering World War II, and his parents were alive during the depression. Dad tells stories about the shortages their family faced, and has consistently tried to be a good steward of the durable (and not-so-durable) things that he has owned. In this age of disposable everything, it is good for me to remember a time, through my Dad, when people didn’t throw things away until every bit of value had been squeezed out of them.

People value what they pay for, but sometimes they need to hear things even when they don’t ask for it. Dad has often been the dispenser of unsolicited advice, and seems cheerfully unfazed when his advice is not accepted. As a veritable fountain of unsolicited advice in my own right, it is very good for me to see the way my Dad handles this.

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70 Things My Dad Taught Me (part 6)

Dad taught me about Ministry and the Church

You have to be on your guard about false doctrine, even in the church. Dad always weighed the words of preachers and teachers in the church carefully, examining the scriptures and discussing them at length with Mom and with the kids. This has stood me in good stead and guarded me from disappointment as I have encountered misguided ideas and people within the church.

Church programs should be supported, even Sunday evening services. My parents were as busy as anyone else, but Dad always made being at church a priority, which has proved a good pattern for us to emulate.

Everyone should have a ministry in the church – use your spiritual gifts. My Dad has the gift of teaching, and he has nearly always found a place to teach in a local church or chapel, wherever we have lived. Happily, I also have the gift of teaching, and so I have tried to find ways to use that gift to build up the church.


As it turned out, Dad’s gift was not in the area of fashion, although the white socks and black shoes made a certain statement.

Always get involved in a Bible study whenever you can. My parents have generally either joined or started a Bible study wherever they have lived, and Kathy and I have tried to do the same. Some of the best friendships we have formed have come about as a result of our involvement in various Bible studies. This is yet another benefit of a godly heritage … so many things I have learned and take for granted that others with less-godly Dads never had modeled for them.

Don’t eat all the cupcakes. When I was nine or ten we attended a chapel that served frosted cupcakes after church every Sunday, in a variety of pastel colors. My Dad taught me not to take more than one or two, which has translated into an adult understanding that I am not a consumer when I go to church. We seek to serve rather than to be served at church — my Dad modeled that concept to me through his life as summarized in that phrase: “Don’t eat all the cupcakes.”

Why we go to church — we go to church because we love God and because He commands us not to forsake the assembling together. We need fellowship, we need instruction, we need to minister to the other parts of the Body of Christ. My Dad understood that and encouraged us kids, as we transitioned from teenagers to adulthood, to find a good church and to stick with it.

Make sure your family is taken care of by church programs. My Dad takes being the spiritual leader of his family seriously. As our priest, he sought our spiritual growth and chose churches that could minister to us as a family.

Remember that people in the church are sinners, too – don’t let them get you down. As an Army Chaplain, my Dad had lots of opportunities to see people in a negative light, and had several occasions when people opposed him in his ministry. Somehow he maintained a healthy attitude — I never saw him bitter or particularly discouraged about the sin of others in the church. It has been a tremendous encouragement to me as I have lived out my life as a member of various churches.

Hang in there, even when things aren’t perfect at a church. It has been said, “If there was a perfect church, they wouldn’t let me in.” In the Army, Chaplains tend to be either very good or very poor, and Dad has had the opportunity to work with both kinds. His dedication to various chapel programs even in the face of poor leadership has served as a template for me in dealing with less-than-perfect churches.

Choose a church that has a pastor who preaches from the scripture. My Dad has always been (at least in my experience) a good student of the Bible, and holds the scriptures up as the rule for living. As we have had occasion to be church-shopping quite a bit in recent years, it has been helpful to remember the fundamental ingredient of a good church.

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