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Fun Proverbs

I’ve been reading in Proverbs lately, and came across a couple of cool ones in chapter 27:

For the man who loves to stay at home:

Like a bird that strays from the nest is a man who strays from his home. Proverbs 27:8

A warning for those overly-cheerful morning people:

If a man loudly blesses his neighbor early in the morning, it will be taken as a curse. Proverbs 27: 14

And later in the same chapter, I came across this interesting proverb:

The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but man is tested by the praise he receives. Proverbs 27:21

I would have expected that a man is tested by adversity, not by success … it made me stop and think for a little while. How do I react when I am praised?

I suppose I am of two minds about it. One part of me laps it up like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Like many people, I desire the approval and accolades of my fellow man, however I might try to hide or suppress it. Another part of me is embarrassed and recoils from praise, since generally the praise is more than I deserve. More often than not, I am praised for the small or easy things I do, while the larger and more difficult things are overlooked. This has the benefit of giving me a healthily skeptical attitude toward the approval of others.

One way a man could fail a test of praise would be to puff himself up. Do I love the praise of others so much that I fail to act in proper humility? Or one could take credit where credit was not due … if I am praised for someone else’s accomplishment, do I shift the praise to the proper target? A man could also be ungracious … rejecting praise so vehemently as to offend a well-meaning person. We mistrust and despise people who allow their desire for fame to drive them, and we hold in contempt a man who steals honor from another.

Ultimately praise of men is a lot like money … there is nothing wrong with a little praise or a little wealth … but a man who makes one or the other his god cannot be trusted to do the right thing. As a child of God, I should seek His approval … I should be driven by a desire for His praise.

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Here is a little girl who loves to play to the crowd.

One of the things that has discouraged me about my job over the past year is that there is little opportunity for pats on the back or accolades. If I do my job well, software rolls out without any negative fanfare, and the credit accrues to the developers who built it. The only time I come into the spotlight is if I do my job poorly and a major defect is found in the software.

I am reminded of the scriptural injunction to work as though I was working directly for God himself:

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23-24

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Hotdog Boat Racing

In April we celebrated my Mom’s birthday, out at the Duckabush at her request. We tried to get an early start, but (as usual) didn’t manage to leave the house much before 11 am. Mom had asked that we have a hot-dog roast instead of the formal 7-course meal we had planned, so we reluctantly acceded to her demands and canceled our arrangement with the caterers and the troupe of musicians. Fortunately, we were able to get our deposit back on the ice sculpture swans, since it was still within the cancellation window.

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Although it was raining nearly everywhere else, we enjoyed sunshine throughout our visit to the valley, which made the whole experience a lot more fun. We ate lunch outside, happily devouring potato salad and chips. Kathy brought a tasty green salad and we took turns charring our hot dogs over a small fire. Mom seemed to enjoy the presents we brought, and we all adjourned to the ravine for boat races along the stream. The little plastic boat I selected was measurably less stream-worthy than the others, or perhaps I just had a run of bad luck … my boat seemed to spend most of its time hung up on rocks or at the bottom of a little pool.

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I tried to give my boat some needed character by sticking a piece of grass through the hole in the smokestack as a sort of a flag or mast, but it broke off the first time my boat capsized and left only a small stump. I thought it had a rather jaunty look, though, and it helped me identify my boat. Some snidely commented that I could easily identify my boat … it was always the last one. I thought this displayed poor sportsmanship and was rather unkind … relatives can be so cruel, sometimes.

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I had to keep careful watch on my children to prevent cheating … despite the fact that no prizes were offered, the desire to win was very strong. Eventually, we raced enough so that everyone had a chance to win (or come close) except for my little red boat. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, as a mature grown-up, I had no special need to win. I don’t think anyone saw me when I went back later and raced my boat by itself, apparently the only way I could be sure of a win.

Boat racing is a surprisingly fun activity, though, and we ran up and down the streambed shouting like maniacs as the kids took turns falling into the water. Kathy had cleverly packed extra clothes for everyone, although Daniel’s spare pants never did turn up until we were on our way home. Mom seemed to take genuine pleasure in having her birthday remembered in this way, so a good time was had by all.

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It was strange, though, to have Mom and Dad all to ourselves … perhaps next year there will be more cousins around at such gatherings.

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Kept the Faith

A few weeks ago my wife’s Nana died, and Kathy flew to Texas to attend the funeral. At the age of 87, Nana’s death was not unexpected, yet in a strange way we were surprised by the suddenness of the end. It reminded me, in an irreverent way, of a scene in the movie Fletch, in which the character played by Chevy Chase pretends to have known an elderly man who has recently died:

Doctor: “You know, it’s a shame about Ed.”
Fletch: [hesitantly -- has no idea who Ed is] “Oh, it was — yeah, it was really a shame. To go so suddenly like that.”
Doctor: [casually] “He was dying for years.”
Fletch: [scrambling] “Sure, but, uh, the end was very, very sudden.”
Doctor: [surprised] “He was in intensive care for eight weeks!”
Fletch: [snaps irritably] “Yeah, but I mean the very end — when he actually died — that was extremely sudden.”

Some of us expected Ida May to pass away some years ago, yet she held on to life in spite of her own vocally-expressed desire. Having lost her beloved husband in 1991, Nana wanted nothing better than to go to sleep one night and wake up in the presence of the Lord, and to “play on those golden streets with Jim Clarence”.

Nana had lived in Rochester, Minneapolis for much of her married life, but retired to Fort Clark, Texas, some years after her husband’s death. I think we were all a little surprised at the impact she made in that community in such a short time, particularly in light of her limited mobility and hearing ability.

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David and Nana, 2001

I didn’t know Nana very well, and I knew her only in the twilight of her life, but there are a few things that I can offer in tribute, in no particular order:

  • She was generous. Over the latter portion of her life, she distributed lump sums of her wealth to her children and grandchildren, helping many with the purchase of homes and substantially easing financial strain. She frequently bore the cost of travel and accommodations for those willing to visit her in Texas, and was always ready to help with tuition costs for a variety of degrees among her grandchildren. She routinely gave away her cars to family members who needed them and was often eager to help out with unexpected expenses.
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    Daniel, Nana and David, 2004

  • She was opinionated. One of the things she liked to do best was to argue … not in a hostile manner, but in a calm, measured exchange of ideas. Her years of experience and depth of scriptural knowledge made her a worthy adversary on nearly any topic, and she really seemed to enjoy the thrust and parry of an intellectual discussion. One of the things I learned from Nana’s example is that it is possible to sharply disagree with someone on an important matter, yet still communicate love for that person.
  • She loved the Lord. Throughout her life, Nana remained committed to loving Jesus, relentlessly studying the Bible and faithfully serving the Church. She attended adult Sunday School and helped to start Bible Studies, even though her loss of hearing made it difficult. Nana was not shy about evangelism and cheerfully would talk about Jesus even with family members who did not believe. You could not be around Nana for very long before you would hear the name of Jesus on her lips … over the course of her life she accumulated a large store of spiritual wisdom and a calm assurance in her place in Christ.
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    Rachel and Nana, 2002

  • She loved her family. Nana used to sign her letters and e-mails, “You are all my favorites.” She would seize on anything unique about each of us so that she could truthfully say (as she did to me), “Dear Favorite Grandson-in-Law” (since I am the husband of her only grand-daughter). Somehow those humorous words had power, and she made me feel as though I really was especially loved.
  • She was committed to marriage. She passionately believed that the job of each married person is to make their spouse happy, and she loved to give advice about building a good marriage (although it made her sad, after Jim Clarence had died). After many years of practice and discussion, she and Grandaddy came up with Cain’s Axioms of Marriage, shown below:
    1. Vocally and frequently declare your love.
    2. Make your spouse happy — this is your most important job and function in life!
    3. Never even look at another man or woman.
    4. Never do anything that you anticipate will be fun without including your spouse.
    5. Plan and do extra and unexpected things.
    6. If away from home, contact your spouse every day.
    7. Beware criticism of your spouse.
    8. Eschew gossip and unilateral advice.
    9. Plan and arrange time alone with your spouse.
    10. Beware “money” problems.
    11. Never compete with your spouse.
    12. Go to the same church — go regularly.
    13. Read the Bible and pray together each night.
  • She exercised self control. Although she, like many of us, struggled with her weight throughout her life, she gained some measure of victory over her body and kept faithfully to a healthy lifestyle in her last years. She swam every day when her health permitted. Many visitors will remember the thick brown bread she made and ate … yet she also knew how to enjoy a Dairy Queen blizzard from time to time. She had a strong will and knew how to apply it.
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    Nana and Sarah, 2003

  • She was a faithful communicator. Where many her age would not take the trouble to master e-mail or other advantages of modern technology, Nana learned to use e-mail early on and helped to found the ‘E-Mail Family’ (EMF). I remember teaching a week-long computer class (complete with T-Shirts) in our basement in Michigan for her and Mamie and Aunt Kate about ten years ago … Nana made such things a priority. Each morning Nana would retrieve her mail and would send out responses to yesterday’s mail, sharing her love and wisdom to her scattered friends and family. Over time the EMF grew to include a number of friends and forged a close bond among its members … it lives on as a sort of legacy to Nana.
  • She was kind. Although we inevitably disturbed her tranquility when we would visit, I never heard her speak a harsh word to any of my horde of children. She was always very affirming in the things she would say about our family, and even her rebukes were tempered with gentleness.
  • She knew how to laugh and to enjoy life. In spite of the pain of her body and her failing health, Nana lived with gusto and joy, laughing and chuckling over the antics of her great grandchildren and participating in the witty banter around the card table. Some of my best memories of Nana are of sitting at her kitchen table in Fort Clark and playing “Seven Ups and Downs” (a simple card game) with others in the family. Nana’s acerbic wit and extensive vocabulary made discourse with her a pleasure to be savored.
  • I loved her. Nana and I disagreed on a lot of things, especially in the political and social arenas … but somehow she managed to make me feel as though she still liked me, even if I was a brash young punk who didn’t know what I was talking about.

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    Cindy, Nana and Kathy, 2004

    And now Nana is with the Lord, and I can’t help feeling a little jealous. Like Paul, Nana could say:

    “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day … and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for His appearing.” II Timothy 4:7-8

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Sickness and Health

Tuesdays creep upon me unawares. Each week I ride the train north from Tacoma with an expression of mild bewilderment … how did another weekend pass so quickly?

Thanks to the provision of the Lord through the generosity of my employer, I have Mondays off, enjoying the luxury of a three-day weekend nearly every week. I generally spend Saturdays catching up on errands and Mondays on field trips with my kids, with Sunday stuck in between to worship my God and relax.

Last weekend I attended a planning meeting for Day Camp at Wilderness Northwest, held in the valley where I used to live, about 90 minutes from home. I decided to take the kids with me for an overnight at our old house, planning to watch movies and eat popcorn late into the night as a fun treat.

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Everyone was very impressed with the progress being made on the main lodge of the retreat center.

After the meeting I fed everyone macaroni and cheese, and then sent them outside. The kids reacquainted themselves with the old homestead and played happily on our swingset … David and Sarah in particular enjoyed the slide and the swings, while the older three joined with a neighbor girl in an elaborate game of dodge-ball on our spacious deck. My mom took them all off with her to feed the fish in the pond, and Rachel and Daniel rode the zip line a few times. When the gnats and mosquitoes finally drove us indoors, we settled in to watch a couple of movies.

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In spite of Rachel’s enthusiasm, David could not be persuaded to try the zip line again. As I recall, he holds the distinction of being the only child to fall off … a memory he apparently holds in disfavor.

After the traditional charring of the microwave popcorn, I managed to make several batches with less smoke and flames, and everyone hailed Daniel for his selection of a popcorn flavor that was buttery AND sweet. Finally I put everyone to bed, Rachel having skipped off with her friend Leanne for a sleepover. I stayed up and played a computer game and got to sleep a little after midnight, leaving the door open so I could hear if anything went bump in the night.

Around 4 am, I awoke to the distinctive noise of vomiting — a sound that strikes fear into the heart of any parent. Remembering that Sarah’s appetite had dropped off (she uncharacteristically couldn’t finish her ice cream cone) I found her sitting up in bed amidst the regurgitated remains of her dinner. Without descending into further graphic detail, an unpleasant twelve hours ensued, as Sarah demonstrated an amazing ability to vomit at the tiniest provocation. We went through all three changes of extra clothing that Kathy had thoughtfully provided, as well as two baths and innumerable sheets and towels. Hoping desperately for a little more sleep, I made the mistake of taking her into bed with me — I ended up washing even the mattress pad on my bed. Sarah lay around the house listlessly, clutching her water cup in pathetic misery, while I cursed my generous impulse to take the kids on an overnight without Kathy.

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It was some 36 hours before she was back on her feet, hands on hips, running the world again. I don’t know how we muddled through without her steady hand on the helm.

Eventually we sterilized the house as best we could (the dryer still doesn’t work, so we had to carry the many loads of wet laundry over to the cottage for drying) and made a run for home, hoping to reach the safety of our home before Sarah needed another set of clothes. Sadly, we had not even reached Hoodsport before Sarah’s stomach once again rebelled … I did the best I could with wipes and paper towels, and we continued homeward.

“Tag, you’re it!” I thought to myself as Kathy met us in the driveway, mentally consigning Sarah into Kathy’s care. She bravely stepped up to the plate, washing Sarah up and changing her into a new outfit. I was sent off to the grocery store for some Pedialyte popsicles and Seven Up, since we had begun to fear that Sarah was becoming dehydrated.

I find that I am facing work with considerable ambivalence this morning … part of me bewails the end of the weekend and the beginning of a work-week, yet another part of me breathes a sigh of relief. Sarah slept through the night without mishap (we brought her into our room in the Pack ‘N Play portable crib) but, if yesterday was any indication, Kathy could be facing an interesting day. Sitting in a clean and fresh-smelling office at a safe distance north may be exactly what I need this day.

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Dreams

The other night I went to bed before 10 pm … nearly an unprecedented event in my experience … I usually am much more of a night-owl unless I am sick. Even so, morning came much too quickly, and I’m feeling drowsy as I ride the train northward.

I’ve been watching Rudy lately … a movie about a kid who dreams of playing football for Notre Dame, and eventually (through sheer stubborn perseverance) fulfills that dream. While I am not much of a sports guy, I have to admire the diligence and effort this character puts into making his dream a reality. As with many of these sports movies, the musical score is very good, tugging at my emotions and pulling me in to the fantasy that playing for Notre Dame is somehow a noble objective in and of itself, worth the effort and passion that is poured into it by this young man.

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Don’t get me wrong, it is a very convincing delusion.

At one point in the movie, Rudy is discouraged and about to quit because of an unfortunate change in coaches and a promise made to him by the old coach that seems unlikely to be fulfilled. One of his mentors points out that by playing on the team and attending Notre Dame, Rudy has already accomplished something worth doing, and that he should not quit. “You’re five feet nothin’, a hundred and nothin’, and you’ve got hardly a speck of athletic ability … and you hung in with the best college football team in the land for two years! And you’re also gonna walk out of here with a degree from the University of Notre Dame. ” Somehow, Rudy finds this encouraging and goes back to practice.

It makes me think about my own situation in life and the many gifts and opportunities that have been lavished on me. Watching Rudy struggle through his classes at Holy Cross (before he manages a transfer to Notre Dame) reminds me of my own college career and the intelligence that God has given me. While I may be currently working in a job that does not particularly challenge me intellectually, I work among some of the smartest people I have ever known. Perhaps the challenge for me here is to learn everything I can, without being distracted or discouraged by the mundanity of my job. While Rudy is mostly a fictional character, the movie was based (however loosely) on a real-life story … it makes me think about my own dreams and what I need to do to make them happen.

So, what are my dreams? I’ve always wanted to be a Dad and a husband … check for Dad, check for husband. Except it turns out these goals are lifelong marathons, not sprints, so I guess I’m living the dream. One career or vocation I’ve long wanted to pursue is to be a missionary … yet there is a sense of not being called to that yet (or is that just fear?) in my heart.

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Sometimes you just have to rough up your dad.

I’ve never expected to be particularly successful in business, and I don’t think I have enough ability to compromise to be a politician. I’ve never felt called to be a pastor or any full-time ministry that would require a pastoral mindset (I just don’t seem to have that kind of patience). I guess I always wanted to be the lead developer on a team. I certainly enjoyed the work I did at Ford — I really had fun finding the best way to accomplish things and laying down a pattern for the other developers.

When I was in college, Kathy and I attended the Urbana Missions Conference through InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. At that point I had not yet set foot on the career path I’ve chosen (or fallen into), and I remember being very much attracted to a computer job in Ghana or the Ivory Coast with one of the missions agencies. These past 15 years I have often remembered that dream and wondered what my life would have been like if I had pursued that opportunity.

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Hard to believe we aren’t still this young.

Strangely, one of the things that has always held me back was something that was said at that same conference. One of the speakers was trying to challenge the students at the conference to think seriously about having a missions mindset, and he said something like this: “If you’re not being a missionary on your own campuses, where you already speak the language and are familiar with the culture, how are you going to be a missionary in a foreign culture where you don’t speak the language?” I recall feeling very challenged by that statement and I returned to my campus with that in mind, but as I have aged, I haven’t become much bolder in my witness. I still struggle to speak openly about the Lord in the workplace or with strangers I meet … a sense of unworthiness continues to hold me back from even investigating mission opportunities.

It has also been rather scary to watch our friends who are in language school as they prepare to serve as missionaries in Thailand with New Tribes Missions. As they move from school to school, they pack their entire household into a tiny trailer … just the thought of limiting our stuff at that level is daunting.

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Daniel & Zachary — It is always hard to let the Burts go.

While we’ve never been wealthy by American standards, I have generally enjoyed a decent flow of income (except for a recent period of unemployment). What would it be like to be on the other end of the financial spectrum, to work in a field where wealth is not the measuring stick? I can’t imagine that I would be very good at raising support … maybe I could show slides of malnourished computer programs in Kenya and network routers starved of RAM in Mozambique?

I don’t think that this desire to be a missionary is something that Kathy shares, and I’m reasonably sure that God does not generally call a married person to ministry like this apart from their spouse. So perhaps this is merely a mid-life crisis brought on by lack of achievement and a less-than-exhilarating job? I’m at the right age for such a crisis, although calling this a ‘crisis’ seems a bit dramatic. I suppose I could rush out and purchase a sports car. Truth be told, if I get a decent raise, I’m thinking about buying a VW beetle to replace my rapidly-disintegrating bronze Escort.

I can picture it now … I bring it home and park it in the driveway, gleaming in the sun … the kids rush out, shouting, “Daddy bought a Herbie!” I smile proudly until they start jumping on the front of the car, when my smiles turn to panic: “Respect the perimeter … respect the perimeter around the Herbie!” (See Cheaper by the Dozen — the latest remake.)

Maybe I should just go play football for Notre Dame.

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