Yesterday was Fathers’ Day. Oh, I admit that for most people this ‘Hallmark Holiday’ was celebrated on Sunday, but I have always felt that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing right.

Saturday evening, Kathy asked me, “What do you want for Fathers’ Day?” It reminded me of a scene in the movie Joe Somebody in which the main character (who has just suffered a humiliating physical encounter at his workplace) is asked, “What do you want?” This question serves as a catalyst that ultimately transforms the character; for most of us, it is a question that bears careful consideration. What do I want?

As it turns out, I want a lot of things. I would like for Jesus to return immediately and for His kingdom to be established in the New Jerusalem. I’d like there to be justice and peace and mercy and prosperity and joy. But in the context of Fathers’ Day, what did I actually want?

My initial reaction was to be self-indulgent … after all, it is a formula that I have followed faithfully for much of my life. What father wouldn’t like a day of relaxation … iced lemonade in a hammock, reading a good book, being waited on hand and foot with tasty morsels? I could maybe play a computer game or watch a movie … perhaps even take a nap?

Taking a nap on this swing wasn’t an option — it always seems to be full of kids.

“Wait a minute!” I said to myself. “You could do all those things if you were single!” Fathers’ Day ought to be a celebration of being a father; it ought to reflect and feature those who call me ‘Daddy’, ‘Big Papa’ or ‘Dad’. (Admittedly, they mostly call me ‘Big Papa’ when they are clumping around the house in my shoes, saying things like, “No, I’M the Big Papa!” in a deep comical voice.)

After we returned home from Sunday school and church, I laid down the law:

• Since it was Fathers’ Day, I got to pick everything we did
• no one else was allowed to even make suggestions*
• anything we did had to be written down on a large posterboard and could be checked off by any of the kids

*This rule was broken quite a bit, especially by the younger ones.

Wherever there is something thrilling and a little dangerous, there is Daniel.

It was a glorious sunny day, temperatures in the upper 70s, with blue skies and a light summer breeze. Our list looked something like this:

• Go to Sunday School
• Go to Worship Service
• Eat lunch
• Thank God for Fathers’ Day
• Read a chapter of The Magician’s Nephew (C.S. Lewis)
• Play zookeeper
• Read a chapter of Don’t Care High (Gordon Korman)
• Sit on our new patio swing with my Sweetie
• Make and consume a Strawberry-Lemonade-Mandarin slushy blend
• Go to Lowe’s for sprinkler parts and assorted other items
• Fix the sprinklers and play in them
• Eat a delicious supper (steak, hamburgers and shrimp)
• Read a chapter of a Sugar Creek Gang book (Jim Hutchens)
• Go to Samuel’s birthday party

By the end of the day, all those things had been checked off in various shades of permanent marker.

On Monday I was off and when I woke up, I thought to myself: “Yesterday was really fun, but it was a little short. Why not do it all again?”

Nobody seemed to have a good answer to that, except Kathy, who thought the kids ought really to do some school. I managed to persuade her by offering her the opportunity to go off for a few hours to Home Depot and Barnes and Noble by herself on a decorating fact-finding trip.

Sometimes David announces, out of the blue, “Mom, I just need a blend.

It was another even more glorious day, with temperatures in the mid-80′s and skies even bluer than the day before … a day made for water games and contemplating the goodness of God. So we started the second half of our list:

• Read Magician’s Nephew
• Sit on the patio swing and read my own book
• Set up the video capture software/hardware to convert Joshua’s play to DVD
• Play a computer game (this solitary pursuit was sharply criticized by David)
• Eat lunch (graciously provided by Kathy before she slipped off on her mission)
• Have a water balloon fight (or two)
• Set up the Slip ‘N Slide (water slide) and play on it
• Read Sugar Creek Gang
• Read Don’t Care High
• Break down and recycle boxes in the garage
• Do a little yard work
• Play zookeeper
• Eat supper
• Watch a Little House on the Prairie episode
• Eat ice cream
• Go to bed

We finished the Magician’s Nephew (I managed not to tear up over Digory’s concern for his dying mother) and I spent a long time watching the kids play on the Slip ‘N Slide and reading my book, with Sarah just sitting companionably beside me. The little ones skipped their nap both days; Sarah is still young enough to need some down-time. She lay across the swing cushions with her feet on my lap … whenever I would look up from my book, she would tell me, “Read, Daddy!” I’m not sure if she thought I would send her to bed if I stopped reading, or if she was also just enjoying our companionable swinging, but I was more than happy to oblige. I took a few moments to reflect on the grace and love of God, such that I, who have so many faults, have been privileged to be Father to five delightful children.

I actually got the water balloon fight on film, but no still-shot pictures except this aftermath.

At supper time I was again exclaiming over the glorious sunshine and blue skies, and said (as I do at least three or four times every summer): “Kids, take note of this day. You will probably only have a hundred days like this in your entire life … cherish it well.” They all nodded appreciatively until Kathy said, “Wait a minute! You’ve already had a lot more than a hundred of these days!”

I felt rather sheepish … it is true. I think I’ve had more than my fair share, and I hope I haven’t taken any away from someone else. I mumbled something about how many of them are seen only through an office or school window, and that actually getting out IN the day was what was so rare, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Truth is, I’ve had several hundred days like yesterday which remind me of the famous Calvin and Hobbes comic strip:

Calvin: My elbows are grass-stained, I’ve got sticks in my hair, I’m covered with bug bites and cuts and scratches…I’ve got sand in my socks leaves in my shirt, my hads are sticky with sap, and my shoes are soaked! I’m hot dirty, sweaty, itchy and tired.
Hobbes: I say consider this day seized!
Calvin: Tomorrow we’ll seize the day and throttle it!

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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.

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.

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.

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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This morning is a strange mixture of clouds and sunshine … a row of clouds darkens the morning but ends east of the highway and blue sky prevails beyond that. The mountain looms on the edge of darkness and light, pink-tinged in the sunrise.

Daniel at age 2, when we first moved to WA in 1999.

For some reason it makes me think of the way that we look at life … often we focus on the dark grey clouds above us and the gloom that surrounds us, failing to notice that only a few miles away the sun is shining. When we first moved to Washington in 1999, we lived in a suburb of the East side of Seattle, and Kathy quickly discovered that sunshine or rain was often a very local phenomenon. She used to jump in the van with the kids (we only had three at that time) and drive around ‘chasing the sunshine’. Even though the blue skies were usually over Lake Washington, she often was able to find a park or a playground where it was not raining just a few miles from our house.

Rachel loves Daniel (1999).

Too often I think we accept spiritual gloom and rain in our lives when just a little effort to ‘chase the sunshine’ would be well-rewarded. So, ever practical, I immediately think of the spiritual analogue of our little red minivan. What kind of things can I do that have the potential to move me spiritually from one locale to another?

• Reading my Bible almost always helps me to affirm the superior reality of the Kingdom of God and to see with eyes of faith. Sometimes the gloom is an illusion, and the sun is shining right where I am … my eyes just need to be adjusted to see on the right frequency. The Word of God is excellent medicine for this kind of reality check.
• Prayer has the capability of dispelling the densest fogs or transporting me to new and interesting places.
• Worship (from the heart) always seems to lift my heart above the clouds.

Joshua loves Daniel (2000).

I’ve been thinking about one of my sons this morning … we have recently celebrated his eighth birthday, and there are many things I would like to teach him. Unfortunately, he has a less teachable spirit than I would prefer and pays attention to my instruction only when it suits him. On the day of Grandma’s birthday party, he committed the faux pas of telling his Grandma how much we spent on one of her birthday presents, and both Kathy and I sharply rebuked him. He looked at me with a whipped-dog expression, seemingly unaware of his indiscretion, even though I had (that very morning) laboriously explained the desirability of concealing how much was spent for a particular gift.

Grand-Dad loves Daniel (2000).

In retrospect, I’m not sure he was actually present at the time … I may have been explaining that to Rachel or Joshua, so perhaps the sharpness of our tone was inappropriate. There is a distinct difference in attitude between Daniel and the older two … where they seem to hang on my words, squeezing and testing my instruction to come to a complete understanding, Daniel is usually so eager to go off and do something that he barely listens to what I say and retains much less than I expect. As a parent and a teacher I find it very discouraging … how can I capture his attention long enough to communicate even a tithe of the things I want to teach him?

Uncle Thom loves Daniel (2001).

Part of the problem is that I am lazy. I assume that my son knows something because I have explained it once or twice to the older kids … yet I am consistently finding that his understanding lags considerably behind theirs. Maybe I am unfairly expecting him to build on principles that have never been adequately explained to him. Yet one of the major advantages of having multiple children is that knowledge is frequently handed down from child to child … I know that the older kids spend a lot of their time telling the younger ones how to do what is right.

Sarah loves Daniel — or does she fear him? (2002)

I’m thinking of declaring this the Year of Wisdom for Daniel. When I was a sophomore in college, I found myself sorely lacking in judgment and discernment. I spent a semester praying for wisdom and re-reading the book of Proverbs. Not long after that I lost my ROTC scholarship and ended up in the Army as an enlisted man for three years, proving that I was correct in my self-diagnosis. I have often felt that the time I spent in the Army was the answer to my prayer, and that my life has benefited greatly from the wisdom I gained through that experience. My family teases me for telling Army stories, yet I find that many of the lessons I learned (often painfully) during that short three-year period continue to be applicable.

Grandma loves Daniel (2002).

My parents often compare me with my middle son, and remark on how much he reminds them of me … which makes me sad, yet hopeful. Is there any way that I can teach my son so that he doesn’t have to learn everything the hard way?

Cousin Samuel loves Daniel (2003).

When I was in college the first time, I held back from asking questions because I didn’t want to reveal my ignorance (or the fact that I hadn’t done the reading required for that class period). When I returned from my enlistment in the Army, I had a keen sense of how much I was paying for each class period, and I asked questions any time I did not fully understand something. I learned a lot more the second time.

Uncle Phil loves Daniel (2004).

So I’m thinking of granting Daniel special privilege in this coming year, such that any time he has a question, he can invoke his Year of Wisdom privilege until he is satisfied that he understands something. This would mean that all other activity or conversation would stop until he was sure he understood. I think that we have gotten into the habit of explaining things quickly and incompletely and have assumed that he already had the intellectual foundation necessary to understand things, where he does not, in fact, have that level of enabling comprehension. If he could see it as a special privilege and would actually invoke it, this might be the way to remedy his lack of understanding.

David loves Daniel (2005).

Added to that, I’m considering a special study of the book of Proverbs just with Daniel … focusing on his spiritual discernment as a foundation to any life wisdom he might acquire. Although the Bible reading I do at night with the kids is aimed at Daniel’s level of understanding, perhaps he needs some additional special attention. Since we’re moving his bedtime from 8 pm to 8:30 pm, now that he has attained the lofty age of 8, a good use of that time might be for me to spend it teaching him. He does try my patience, though … it might not be the best thing for me to do at the end of the day, when my energy is low.

Tim-Daddy loves Daniel (2004).

In many ways, my middle boy has a very winsome spirit about him … sometimes he tries so hard to please us, it melts my heart. He can be very generous and kind when he is intentional, and his cheerful helpfulness is an example to us all. His eagerness to bring good news is almost comical, yet very precious. Surely I can build on those character traits?

Kathy loves Daniel (2004).

A few days after his birthday, we opened the last of Daniel’s birthday presents, which was a model airplane powered by air pressure, capable of flying a hundred yards or so. We took it over to a nearby park and (after some initial failure) managed to fly it several times. Daniel impressed me greatly by taking turns with his older brother and sister, allowing them to fly the new toy. At one point, he promised that Rachel could fly the plane on the next turn, yet when I announced that it would be the last flight, he changed his mind and took the turn for himself. Predictably, the last flight ended in an ignominious crash, so that no one enjoyed it, least of all Daniel. Yet when I chided him about not keeping his word, he seemed entirely insensitive to the idea that he had done anything wrong … a response that is sadly not unusual with him.

Sarah loves Daniel (again, 2005).

When negative consequences happen to me, am I prone to seeing myself as a victim, and do I fail to see the extent of my own culpability? Am I the last one to see that my conduct is not pleasing to God? Perhaps the trouble is not so much with my son, but rather with the fact that he mirrors so much of my own folly. Maybe the problem is not that I am failing to teach him, but rather that I am teaching him all too well.

A Year of Wisdom wouldn’t do me any harm, either.

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Allergy season has arrived with a vengeance again, and I have forgotten to take (or bring) my medication today. It could be a very long day … already I am sneezing uncontrollably and peering about blearily with red-rimmed eyes. It is funny how a few discomforts can focus the thoughts internally … it will be an interesting challenge to see if I can be cheerful and friendly today.

Last Monday I took the kids in to the ‘big city’ to the Children’s Museum in the Seattle Center for the day. We had planned to go to the Pacific Science Center but couldn’t find our membership card … both Kathy and I called to see if they would accept some other form of proof of membership, but they were adamant (and rather rude) in their refusal. I guess some museum curators don’t want anyone to actually use their museum, or perhaps they are a little over-vigilant in wanting to make money.

David was particularly excited about taking the train home. All the kids have been pestering me for an opportunity to ride on the train … my glowing reports of the joys of the Sounder commuter train have tantalized them for months. Not wanting to get up as early as commuters (the poor wretches), we took a bus in to Seattle, then another bus (through the bus tunnel) as far as Westlake.

David kept us apprised of any Herbies that we passed.

We walked the rest of the way (about 15 blocks or so) to the Seattle Center. This proved to be a mistake … I should probably have taken a transfer and ridden the bus all the way through town. It was further than I had anticipated and several of the kids were tired by the time we arrived.

Dancing and music and a picnic lunch

We ate our lunch inside the Seattle Center listening to some live music and watching some elderly couples dancing. There were perhaps eight to twelve couples with the average age well over 70. It was somehow very poignant to listen to the strains of Danny Boy and watch these brave souls step (or in some cases, shuffle) around the floor. Not an accomplished ballroom dancer myself, I was vaguely encouraged to see that some of them had still not learned to dance very well even after a lifetime of opportunity, while others moved with a grace that belied their years. I sat and imagined that some of them had probably been married more than sixty years, and wondered what Kathy and I will be doing when I am 86 and she is a young thing of 81. They danced for more than two hours (just finishing up when we came out of the Children’s Museum) which I thought was pretty impressive in terms of mere stamina.

Joshua embarks on a brief career in broadcasting.

The kids enjoyed the Children’s Museum, although I thought it was not as nice as the one in Olympia. Many of the exhibits were damaged or dirty and a number of the moving parts were out of order. I suppose they get a much higher volume of visitor traffic at the Seattle Center than in the comparatively-sleepy Capitol district of Olympia. David provided some brief excitement by opening one of the alarmed exit doors, thinking it lead to another part of the exhibit. By apologizing abjectly, we managed to avoid a tongue-lashing, although David frowned for some time afterward, as he often does when embarrassed.

A bunch of blue-tongued skinks

After finishing our tour of the Children’s Museum, we stopped at the food court for Icee drinks, universally choosing Blue Raspberry over boring old Cherry. Although we were tempted to ride the Ferris Wheel (in honor of the recent home-school reading of the story describing Mr. Ferris’ first attempt) I felt that David and Sarah might not enjoy the ride. We settled on a conventional Merry-Go-Round which was well-appreciated by everyone, even me.

This might have been David & Sarah’s first merry-go-round ride.

We rode the monorail back to Westlake, which was a vast improvement over walking, and caught the bus back to the train station without mishap. Discovering that we were almost an hour early, I took the kids on a quick run through the Uwajimaya shopping center (an oriental grocery store and food court near my work) and introduced them to a favorite lunch choice (Pahd Thai with Orange Chicken). I had an entertaining few minutes trying to buy train tickets for the three oldest kids … the ticket machines wouldn’t accept my credit card and some of my dollar bills were very wrinkled. As the train pulled into the station, the kids started to panic, not realizing that the train would be sitting there for another fifteen minutes or so. Fortunately, I had enough quarters to buy the last ticket, and we boarded with relief.

The monorail beats walking, any day of the week.

We devoured the Pahd Thai Chicken (if it hadn’t been for Daniel’s solicitous care, I wouldn’t have received any) and experienced only one mishap with an exploding Sprite. The other passengers looked on in hunger and envy, so I made the kids put the few remaining noodles away.

We certainly would not have been welcome in the Quiet Car.

David seemed a little let down by the train … I think he expected to sit up front in the engine and to pull the steam whistle, wearing an engineer’s cap. He is an interesting little fellow … I could see his face twisting and frowning as he looked out the window, struggling with disappointment. He is usually very careful not to say anything that could be construed as ungrateful, having learned from his older siblings’ negative example. I come down pretty hard on anyone who vocalizes an ungrateful spirit, recently having taken a piece of cake away from Daniel at a family party for this very reason. I’m proud to say that he took after his Mama and spoke only cheerful things … he is a good boy, and well do I love him.

We eventually arrived in Tacoma, found our car and headed home. It was a full day of treats … the kids must have thanked me at least five times each on the way home. Kathy spent a good part of the day with her dear friend Julee, so I think I can say that a good time was had by all.

There is a strange but happy side-effect from these field trip days. While I love my children dearly, I am finding that the more time I spend with them on outings such as these, the more I want to be with them again, and the warmer my heart feels toward the little rascals. You might think that it would be a chore to spend the day with five little children, but I find it to be very fulfilling.

Being cooped up in the house with a bunch of bickering kids is no picnic, but spending comparable time out of the house on a field trip seems to introduce a very different dynamic, which is a delightful surprise. It probably doesn’t hurt that I ply them with treats and take them on adventures.

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On Monday we celebrated ‘Field Trip Day’ again, only this time a little differently. I forgot my camera, and for that reason I must make do with recycled pictures from other days.

Rachel spent part of the weekend out at the Duckabush with her friend Leanne and my Mom. On Saturday evening, before she came home, Rachel called and asked if Leanne might be allowed to come to our house for the remainder of the weekend. Knowing that it would fall to me to make the three-hour round-trip drive to return Leanne to her home, I eventually (and rather reluctantly) agreed.

David really enjoys his gymnastics class, offered at the local YMCA on Tuesday and Thursdays.

Last week in our Sunday school class we were talking about modeling servant-hood to our children, and I was convicted about the way that I talk about service in front of my children. Many times when I serve others it is after considerable persuasion and with little graciousness on my part … I identify closely with the son who said he wouldn’t go work for his father (and later did), in the parable Jesus taught. Our class discussed the use of a phrase like “I would love to do that for you!” or something similar. It is interesting to note that such language frees the served person from obligation to reciprocate and sends a clear message that this service is done as unto the Lord. In turn, this allows the served person to choose to reciprocate, which can rebound to additional blessing for them. Service is a choice, and there should be no question of hypocrisy … it just takes a moment to make up your mind that you will do it before you speak, so that you have time to decide to be glad about it.

Knowing that I would be seeing Leanne’s Dad (the director of Wilderness Northwest), I was determined to make some progress on the DVD of Summer Camp 2004 for that organization. I stayed up until 4 am burning a demo DVD for Jody’s review, and so we got a later start on our Field Trip than we usually do. My children had never been bowling before; I decided to take them bowling at Timber Lanes, conveniently located in Shelton, about half-way between Lakewood and the Duckabush.

Kathy packed us a lunch and shooed us out the door very patiently and graciously, considering we didn’t leave until noon. We swung by the bank to pay our monthly rent and ate lunch at a cool playground area adjacent to the bowling alley. Of course it began to rain just as we got there, but the kids were unfazed, shouting happily about the storm and the likelihood of pirates as they clambered about the play structure merrily.

We spent almost two hours bowling a single game, with Rachel, Daniel and David bowling against Joshua, Leanne and myself. They beat us handily with more than a 100-point margin … Joshua maintains that the bumper gates in the gutters gave them a considerable advantage, but I’m not so sure. David got several strikes and spares, routinely getting three and sometimes even four chances to knock down each set of pins. The machine had trouble registering his bowling ball, which crawled along at the speed of a lively glacier. Sarah ‘helped’ me and shouted with excitement every time my ball came up out of the ball return … “There’s my ball!” Sadly, she had to learn not to grab at the bowling balls as they came up out of the return the hard way, and spent several tearful minutes sucking her fingers on the bench. I was surprised at this, because Sarah is usually very cautious and listens closely when warned that something is dangerous. The proprietor of the bowling alley personally came down to our lane and gave all the kids a lecture about the hazards of the ball return machine. I guess I should have played it up a little more … sometimes I feign an injury (especially with something hot) while she is watching to give her a sense of healthy respect. We had the establishment almost entirely to ourselves, and it wasn’t too terribly smoky, about which I had been worried. A good time was had by all.

Although Sarah technically is too young to join ‘Nastics, sometimes Kathy sneaks her in.

Eventually we tore ourselves away from the game, with many a regretful glance back toward the video arcade. I had bought each of the children a small pop at the bowling alley, which was a big hit, especially because we had not packed enough drinks for lunch.

We arrived at the Duckabush around 4 pm, and spent an entertaining 20 minutes watching video clips from the Camp DVD with Jody. Unfortunately, he had to take Leanne somewhere, and so we were soon left at our own devices. We swung by our old house (everyone needed to go to the bathroom) and decided to watch a movie, just for old time’s sake.

I called Kathy and asked her if she missed us … there was a long pause, and then she said, “Well, no.” The honesty somehow made me glad, although she called back about a half-hour later and said, “Now I miss you.” Of course, it is safe to miss us when we are 90 minutes away, heh heh. We ate a nutritious dinner of Hot Cocoa and Macaroni & Cheese, finished the movie and cleaned up … it felt good to be at the old homestead, even furnished with unfamiliar furniture and decorations.

Knowing that we couldn’t leave the valley without stopping in at the Bringhams, we dropped by “just for a few minutes”. I hadn’t reckoned with Tom’s crafty conversational wiles, though; we stayed for almost an hour, engaged in interesting discussion. We arrived at home around 9:30 pm, tired and happy, except for Daniel, who was tired but not particularly happy.

During the ride home, Daniel had slumped down across his seat and fallen asleep on the bench directly behind Joshua, who was sitting up front beside me in the passenger seat. Somewhere around Olympia, Joshua became weary and decided to put his seat back into the reclining position. Imagine Daniel’s surprise and dismay to wake up with his head trapped in smothering darkness, pinned to the seat. Wrenching his head free, he scraped the side of his face, and cried for some little while. As a claustrophobe myself, I can’t say I would relish (or even mustard) waking up in that situation.

One place where Daniel really shines is in Homeschooling PE.

Wednesday evening I had a bit of an adventure … I heard on the news that the Sounder trains were cancelled due to some kind of labor relations problem with rail workers nationwide. I tried to get a bus schedule from Sound Transit’s website, but it was down, of course, due to the unusually large number of people probably doing the same thing. I was worried about the estimated 3000 extra commuters that would be piling onto the already-crowded buses … how could I manage to get a place on the bus? I envisioned hours of waiting at some bus stop, watching bus after bus pass by, each packed to the gills with irritable commuters. Not my idea of a fun way to spend a Wednesday evening.

I called Kathy to let her know that I wouldn’t be home any time soon, and she offered to call her good friend Julee to see if I could meet her husband somewhere in Seattle & carpool. Instead of being at his office in Seattle (where he was supposed to be) Colin answered the phone at his home in Lakewood (must have been working from home that day) and without missing a beat, responded, “Of course I’d be glad to pick Tim up!” He is a silly man, which is a big part of why we like him. I was tempted to call his bluff and ask him to drive the hour up to Seattle to fetch me home — but a clever person like that will always have a quick rejoinder. “Oh, I’d love to, but my sick grandmother just called, and needs me to take her to the hospital,” or something like that.

Joshua would have come to pick me up, if he wasn’t too busy in his new role as environmental activist.

Eventually I found the bus route map I needed and hatched a clever plan to walk upstream from the usual bus stop to catch the bus before it filled with disenfranchised rail passengers. As I cut across the plaza near the train station, I caught sight of two police officers lounging against a fence. On a whim, I asked them if they’d heard any news about the trains, and they told me that Sound Transit had managed to get one train running. They didn’t seem very confident or knowledgeable, but I decided to nip across the street and glance down into the station to see if there was a train waiting … sure enough, there it was!

I dashed down the steps, nearly trampling a TV cameraman in the middle of an interview with the station master, and boarded the train with a full minute to spare before it departed. The Sounder was nearly empty … everyone else must have believed the news and taken the buses.

I think that spiritual life is like that many times … we get ourselves all worked up fearing or dreading some adverse situation, only to discover that our fear and dreading was unnecessary and that God had already made a way for us to have joy. I’ve continued to read Hind’s Feet on High Places to the older children at night, and a recent chapter described just this sort of thing. Little Much-Afraid is faced with a fearsome climb of the Precipice Injury, and nearly turns back out of dread. But when she actually climbs the mountain, she finds it is bearable and not nearly what she expected. The scriptures teach that without faith it is impossible to please God … when we give ourselves over to fear and dread about the future, we are not exercising any kind of faith. Strange … I always thought I had faith. Maybe I never had the ‘tell this mountain to go throw itself into the sea’ kind (Matt 17:20), but a respectable amount of the ordinary ‘we badgers, we hold on’ (C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian) kind of faith. These last two years have shown me how deficient I am. I think that a lot of my so-called ‘faith’ in God was really faith in myself — it just wasn’t revealed until I was tested. I think that true faith is, by definition, extraordinary. And yet there is honor and faith in quiet, steady holding on to the truth of who God is.

And then there is ‘misplaced faith’, demonstrated by these children who thought they would live to reach the bottom of the stairs.

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. — Hebrews 11:6

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