The week before Father's Day this year, Planet Fitness released the info on a survey they did on the male physique (that falls somewhere between buff and Pillsbury Doughboy)--namely, the "dad bod".
In 2017, an online survey by Kelton Global of 2,006 Americans men & women 18 & over was commissioned by Planet Fitness. Researchers found was that women don't want rock hard abs on their fellows--they want love handles. In fact, nearly 7 of 10 found a few or 20 extra pounds to be attractive on men.
Well, when this most recent survey was conducted, it found that love for the "dad bod" continued to rise--more than ever before! In that survey, it was found that:
71% of men say the "dad bod" has become fully accepted by society now...that's up from 63% last year.
79% of men with a dad bod say they're happy with their body, up from 64% last year.
78% of both men and women say a dad bod is a sign a guy is confident in his own skin.
65% of people say a dad bod is attractive...61% say it's sexy...and 51% say it's the "new six pack."
Coincidentally, less than one month before this survey was published, a stir in the fashion world happened when the clothing company, ASOS, promoting & selling crop tops for men. This nearly broke the Internet with the amount of confusion that ensued. This got the attention of the folks at the TODAY SHOW recently & they chimed in on the debate.
I've had a whole drawer full of "cut-off" tees for years. Ever since I was annually trekking out to Bushnell, IL for the "Christian Woodstock" festival known as Cornerstone. When I read about these trends this month, I thought that maybe in this age of acceptance & diversity that guys will get the same treatment as gals when it comes to "belly tolerance"...
It's time for guys with "dad-bods" to push back on the belly shaming...and let it all hang out. Get comfortable with your physique & throw on a crop top while you celebrate Father's Day, 2019. Let it all hang out...join the "Navel Air Force".
This was a post originally published on my Facebook page on June 20, 2015. I figured it needed to be included here, too.
I am sick of having to move out of my lane in life to make room for people who are crossing over the center line of life's highway, looking for a head-on collision with my beliefs.
I a life-long Southern Baptist, a follower of Jesus for over 30 years, and have countless Brothers & Sisters in Christ who are from every race, religion, creed, & belief (of whom I would lay down my life for), I'm also a child of the South (capital "S") -- and I have never associated this flag with anything other than the land of my birth ("Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton...."), Arkansas. And if a WHITE woman can IDENTIFY herself as a Black person and a MAN can identify himself as a woman (complete with a full-on sex change procedure & displayed on a front page magazine cover), and countless others that want to be identified as having same-sex attractions..... and we're all supposed to be OKAY with this...
...then I think I have the same right to identify with the Confederate flag. It seems just as fair to be given the same treatment that I'm expected to have toward others with whom I differ.
It's not my intention to come across as having pride in a selfish sense. I do have pride in a heritage sense. What if my denomination, the Southern Baptist Convention, is eventually branded by society as a denomination of homophobic hate & bigotry because its president, Johnny Hunt, recently spoke out in favor of traditional marriage ...saying there would never be any compromise with acknowledging same-sex unions? What if it became a stigma for people to be identified as a Southern Baptist because of this? Would folks stop going to a SBC church so as not to offend? Do you see where this is going? I know it seems a bit outlandish or over the top, but so did some of the very things we are seeing today which were seen as outlandish 10 years ago. The issue is not over a flag. It's over the heart. And it's the heart of both sides of the particular "offense".
I was born in a small Arkansas town that had a very racist history. My step-grandfather told me of what he remembers about a sign posted at all 4 entry highways into the town that read, "[N-word], don't let the sun set on you in this town." That was in the 1950s & it was not something I was proud of. I can remember watching the 1970s ABC-TV mini-series, Roots--a TV event that greatly affected me. My heart seemed to be ripped out of my chest as I watched how the African slaves were treated. I remember telling my mom that I really wished I had friends who were black because I have a desire for all people to be included in my life. My high school did not graduate a black student until after the turn of the 21st Century (which happened sometime around 2003 or -04). It was not until I attended college in Jonesboro, AR that I finally got to have friends who were of another race. While at college, I was the International Student Representative at the Baptist Student Union. I had countless Muslims as friends. I ate with them & organized BSU International student events to have them share their culture & religion with other students. I made friends with Atheists, Bhuddists, Hindus...
Keep in mind that my family was never racist. My dad used to help with the American Red Cross when US Soldiers needed to contact their family state-side. He would always get "Red Cross calls" & would then spend hours on the phone trying to contact the family members. On occasion, he would be called to the phone & after putting the receiver to his ear, he would just hang up without saying anything. I asked him once who it was & he replied it was some "jackass". When asked what the call was about, he would finally say it was someone calling him a "[N-word] lover" because he was helping a black soldier get in touch with their family. It used to cause me deep anger toward any person who would disparage another person on the account of their race. No one should have to put up with that.
Southern born, Southern bred, Southern proud.
However, none of this has anything to do with my association with the Confederate flag.
Not one thing.
My walk with the Lord, my salvation, my character, or my eternal destiny is not all wrapped up in a flag. And just the same, I equally should not wrap up another's character, salvation, walk with the Lord, or eternal destiny in some single offense I may have against that person. MY ancestors (the Leslies) were not guilty of the things society is trying to blame all of the people of my race for. The Bible addresses Christian liberties and I do not believe it teaches we are to continually retreat until we have nothing left to stand on. We are to reason with each other & find ways to live at peace with each other. We do not have to agree with each other on everything. We are not expected to change our lifestyle or beliefs for every person who finds it offensive. Again, it comes back to EACH PERSON believing in the BEST for the other. That goes BOTH ways.
I don't mind having wine at times--and I have never been drunk (or even "tipsy) a day in my life. But I still like wine. This is offensive to some, so I will voluntarily refrain from drinking wine with those I know who may be offended. But I do not stop drinking wine all together just because some folks take offense. During one point in my life, I was ordained a Deacon in my church, which was in a predominately German Catholic town where drinking alcohol was commonplace. On my own volition, I chose not to drink wine solely on the purpose so as not to be a stumbling block to others in my church. I never once said it suddenly became a sin to drink wine, or condemn anyone who did drink wine (or any kind of alcohol). In fact, I think hardly anyone in the church even was aware of my own personal decision. After I moved to another town, I did not feel it was necessary for me to exercise self-control on this since I was attending a church in a different culture. So, I resumed having the occasional glass of wine.
We as Christians, should really be focusing on our eternal home rather than on the home (or the flag) of their birth. I don't get riled up if my next-door neighbor wants to put up a flag of Islam (or even a "rainbow" flag) next to my house. It's their right to do so. Yet I'll bet some would get very upset if they were told by their Homeowners Association to take down their American flag because it offends Muslims....or was considered "hostile" or "aggressive" toward Muslims. We expect Muslims to change their expectations or stereotypes toward Americans because we, in our culture, are not aggressive toward the Muslim way of life. We feel offended that Muslims put stereotypes upon our US Flag based on their bad experiences. Why aren't we feeling the same way about the Confederate flag?
The US Flag may give a foreigner the feeling of "US imperialism" and should not be put on display or be made to impose itself upon others who must look at it. We respond by exclaiming how ridiculous it is to believe such prejudicial ideas. However, we are doing the same thing with Southerners who happen to identify with the Confederate flag. They are collectively viewed as racists, white supremacists, bigots, or worse. We have 2 sets of rules.
To say that a Confederate flag is racist is to say that everyone who identify with the Confederate flag is racist. That's a bigoted of a concept as it is to say a person of German heritage is a Nazi. To coin a phrase from an Internet meme: "Cain killed Abel with a rock. It's a heart problem, not a gun (or a flag) problem." To take down the Confederate flag or to criminalize its display would be a slap in the faces of all the families who's ancestors died in a Civil War that really should have never happened. No matter which side you are on--the Blue or the Gray--both sides were to blame & suffered.
Removing a flag will never remove hatred in the heart of a person. However, it could very easily stir up more unnecessarily. We LEARN from our past. We don't ERASE it.
So it's Father's Day weekend & I've seen a few ads and posts on social media about dads. But nothing like I see for Mother's Day. Moms always will have a special place in our hearts. But I have to wonder if we gave dads more room for empowerment & encouragement instead of portraying them as insolent, standoffish, or some other bumbling out-of-touch child in an adult body we may see more fathers take their role seriously.
I always reflect on my own dad around Father's Day & how he wasn't anything like your "Ward Cleaver" from Leave It To Beaver. And I wonder if he ever felt like he wasn't doing so well in this whole "father" role. He took me camping 2 or 3 times in my lifetime, taught me many of life's "basics", and loved to tease me, my sister, and especially my mom relentlessly. And he had that Leslie temper at times, too. When erupt in a cussin' fit, my sister & I would struggle to keep from belting out gales of hysterical laughter at his creative use of "Blue English".
He wasn't perfect. He was, however "Dad".
As a father myself now for almost 16 years, I would have loved to hear from my deceased father of his impression on my fathering skills. I'm pretty sure he would have approved & said as he did on many occasions, "I'm real proud of you, son.". Being a dad is no walk in the park. There is no instruction manual. And the rules are as different as there are fathers. I do observe other dads-in-action as well as their children. I ponder the rules of fatherhood that are applied to their families. And then I look at my children.
Proverbs 17:6 says,
Grandchildren are the crown of the elderly, and the pride of sons is their fathers. [HCSB]
Proverbs 23:24 says,
The father of a righteous son will rejoice greatly, and one who fathers a wise son will delight in him. [HCSB]
It also states in Proverbs 10:1 and 15:20 that a wise son brings joy to his father. There are countless more references from the Bible about the joys & responsibilities of being a dad. So what was it that I've done--and am still doing--that formulated the two sons I have? Just as water can take any direction once its poured onto a surface, the outcome of my children could have taken any number of different courses.
While being a dad is not walk in the park, it is--at the same time--the best responsibility I've ever had. Oh, and it is also the most confusing, frustrating, joyous, miserable, fun, unpredictable, thankless, & satisfying job to do. So how do you know if you've done it right?
I look at my 2 sons. I imagine what their Grandpa Leslie would think & say of them if he were still here to see how they've grown up. I think my dad would see that the values & lessons that he was taught by his Grandpa Leslie had trickled down into them. As teenagers now, both of my boys are entering their future fatherhood as young men. And they will soon be thinking of what it might be like to be a dad. They won't get a manual, either.
As a zealous college student, I had imagined that the kids I would have would not watch certain TV shows, play certain games, listen to certain music... blah-blah-blah. Okay so some of that did come to pass. But a lot of it sort of didn't. I'm pretty sure my college persona would be very judgmental of my middle-aged adult persona. What did result was 2 sons who both have Jesus as their Lord & Savior, who are not only held in esteem by their family & their church, but who also growing in wisdom & stature & in favor with God & man. And they enjoy YouTube, Pokemon, Magik cards, & video RPG games.
I am the father of 2 young men who understand what it means to be a God pleaser. They are not perfect any more than I am. They've made as many mistakes as children as I have as a dad. And they bring me unspeakable joy. If you were to ask me what I did as a father that helped foster children like these, I couldn't tell you. What I can say is I entrusted them to my Heavenly Father, who provided me with wisdom that I took with faith. I was also blessed with a helpmate, who is the counterpart to my weaknesses & whom I have been married to since 1997!
For 16 years, I've experienced fatherhood from the aspect of instructing. From this point forward, however, I will be getting used to experiencing fatherhood from the aspect of understanding.
I delight in the blessings that God has provided in spite of myself. I delight in being a dad who's sons have been pleasing in the sight of the Lord.
It was starting to show signs of wear, anyway. I had been putting in more gas, it was using oil, I heard creaks & bumps when I would turn the wheel, & the headlights were so oxidized that driving at night in the rain was a nightmare. But seeing a time in the future to actually push/pull/drag it in for a trade was no where to be seen on the radar. There was no "good" time for this to happen anyway, much less on a weekend I was planning on driving 84 miles to my former church to "fill the pulpit". It's bad enough that my M-F 62-mile round trip to & from work includes traveling on a major US thoroughfare that's littered with impatient drivers traveling from Harrisburg to State College & semi-trucks that are trying to beat a deadline. It's also a drive that one must be on the lookout for an occasional boulder that loosens from an embankment & rolls into the road. But then you add in all of the deer who have no concept of traffic--especially when on the move from hunters during their mating season--and you have all the makings of a disaster-in-waiting.
Folks who meet me going to work at 4:40 in the morning must scratch their head at what I'm doing as I drive along the highway, occasionally flashing my headlights as if to signal that a whole division of state police are behind me in a covert speed trap. But I've had 3 other close encounters with Bambi to know that even if I don't see any deer, I flash my headlights anyway, as I pass grassy meadows, just in case any were even considering making a run for the highway.
Such was the case on a Friday morning--the day after my birthday--as I was eastbound & down on the US highway over the mountain range that separates work from home. Coming around a curve that cut through a section of the mountainside as I approached the mountain summit, my oxidized headlights revealed Bambi with her brother, sister, cousin, & neighbor, all crossing the highway stretched across the 2 eastbound lanes in a clear section of the expressway. I had just enough time to slam on my brakes & slide into her, feeling that familiar jolt from the impact crumpling another hood & hearing the clattering sound of another headlight being pulverized. After coming to a full stop, my one lone oxidized headlight dimly illuminated ahead as the rest of the hiking party bolted for the woods. The car still was running, the airbags had remained in place, & there was no unsettling noises. So, with only 13 more miles to go, I continued on to work just as I had done in all the other times Bambi & I had encountered each other. When I shut the car off at work, I heard no noises nor saw any steam coming from the buckled front-end, & with time pressing for me to start to work, I figured I would survey the damage when I had more time & more daylight. Not surprising though, the rest of the day went by like a slow-moving mudslide. This made the 3rd car I had gone through over the course of my 6 years at this job, as if they made cars that were disposable. And this was a car that was only able to be covered by liability insurance because of its age. Adding insult to injury, we had dumped more money than we had paid for the car for repairs & inspections...some we were still paying off. I couldn't afford to pay out of pocket for damage that would, no doubt, be more than the $1,500 we paid for the car, couldn't afford another car loan, & couldn't afford to quit my job because I had no car.
We had already been getting NSF notices from the bank account I was using to buy gas for the car so this would just be the final weight that would sink us financially. All I could do was to sit, feeling as if I were on a stranded boat being buffeted by an ocean that was on the brink of becoming a typhoon. All I had left was to just tell God that I was completely dependent on whatever He chose to bring my way. I had run out of options.
All I could think to do was to put out a request for prayer on my church's list-serv & on some social networks & let time take its course. After I finished work, I went out to see if the car would start & saw fluid leaking underneath the deer damage. The car started, however, in spite of everything & I was able to drive it home without any change in the engine temperature. As I neared my house, though, I did notice a whisper of steam wafting from the buckled hood. But I was able to get it parked in the garage & could breathe a sigh of relief. But the pressing concern on the back of my mind was how I was going to get back to work on Monday.
My wife was home on a sick day so that was the next hurdle. She often has said that "if it's going to happen to anyone, it's gonna happen to me." It was if she goes through life expecting the worst. Ironically, it was just a day earlier I had told her of a "near-deer-miss" & she remarked to me then that if I hit a deer with my car, "we are screwed". As a faithful husband, I fulfilled her expectations.
As I anticipated her reaction, I also realized this could drive a stake through plans already put in motion for my annual trip back to AR for my family's Thanksgiving reunion. I had not missed a single one of these since I was 6 weeks old. And I had taken my boys to every one since their birth. I had been helping to organize the plans for this year's reunion & had been promised with some financial help from my cousin in AL to pay for some of the expenses in getting some of the material needed for our 51st year of this tradition.
Once the shock set in with my wife, we surrounded ourselves in commiseration & began to piece together our options. I made a couple of calls to folks in my church who may be able to keep an eye out for a replacement car & we decided to follow through with a decision we had already discussed earlier in the year to cash in a life insurance policy that had been started by my dad years ago which had begun paying dividends. We had held off on it to see how our debt payments would be coming along with my wife recently starting a new church job that paid a bit more money. My salary at work was cut 20% almost 3 years ago because of the weak economy, in a blatant breech of contract by my employers, so our finances had already been slowly bleeding away. An emergency of any size would put us on financial life support. Thus was the case here & my wife dropped the bomb that we would have to re-think the Thanksgiving reunion, too, which was met by a lot of disappointment by not just me but the boys, too, when we told them what happened. If I had to miss our reunion, there would be very little thanksgiving flowing this year. When we received the promised check from my AL cousin we saw a note that was placed inside that said the money was for us to use any way we needed...even if it were not for the reunion. This was an encouraging sign, but I thought what use would it be if I wasn't going to the reunion in the first place?
I decided to check messages on the social networks that I may have received based on the news I sent out about the deer hit. I found that a family I had met almost when I moved to PA from AR had posted that they had a couple of cars they were trying to sell. This family used to go to my former church (in fact, were part of the original founding members) & I know that they had gone through a lot of trials in their lives but endured through them in spite of the circumstances. I told them I was to be in town that weekend to bring a message to our old church & would be able to stop by & look at the car to take it for a test drive. They said that they had not even planned to post a comment online about having a car because they at first thought I wouldn't be interested.
Next my wife & I decided to rent a car for a few days with a credit card that we had been desperately trying to pay off. I did need a vehicle to travel to my former church & my wife had to use our other car for her job on Sunday. Of course, during all this spontaneous planning, our family dynamic began to suffer as it took hits from our stress levels that were maxing out in the red. Any reaction to irritations by our 2 boys would cause us to snap at them. My wife & I had planned to take the boys to a autumn fest that was being held at a local church, so we dropped them off there & then the 2 of us went to grab a quick bite at our local Chick-Fil-A.
We hadn't planned to be at the restaurant that long. We can't always afford to eat out, but when we can, we like Chick-Fil-A because of their Christian business structure & their mission to view every customer with the mindset that every person has a story. As we started our meal, the franchise owner stopped to ask how we were doing. We jokingly told him of our deer hit & he winced at the heartache he knew we were going through. Our conversation then turned to how we had been encouraged by Chick-Fil-A's steadfastness in keeping a Godly business structure going successfully. As the owner told us of how he had faithfully sought God in his desire to build a franchise in town, despite the decade-long struggle in getting funding & wading through the mire of all the regulations that was characteristic of starting a business in the State College area, God began to speak to me through this businessman's story. He quietly reassured me that no matter the struggles that come our way--from starting a business to replacing a work car with no budget to do so--He is still in control. Unbeknownst to this restaurant owner, we had a story of our own that he did not even know about.
I left Chick-Fil-A feeling encouraged as if God had given my spirit and my appetite much needed nourishment. We picked up the kids & headed for home ending a day better than it started. But there was more to come before the end of the weekend. When we got home, I found I had received an email from a friend who had attended my former church but who moved away. I hear from her frequently when she has questions about the Bible & always consults with me for answers.
My friend's husband had passed on & now she travels around performing all sorts of ministry. She was asking me another question about the Bible regarding prosperity being promised for those who love the Lord & follow His commands. Does this mean that we prosper financially or spiritually or both? Ironically, this came on the very day of the deer hit, so I replied to her that I didn't feel very prosperous at the moment. I shared with her what had happened with my car & went on to explain that prosperity is not limited to a financial result but could be spiritual as well. She later called me to find out more about my deer hit & encouraged me to not let this crisis stand in the way of serving the Lord. She emphatically said she would be praying for us through all this.
As we headed out to pick up a rental car on Saturday--a home Penn State football game in "Happy Valley"--we also got involved in a surprise Fall snowstorm that was churning up through the Northeast. We managed to pick up the rental with minutes to spare before the place closed at noon & then we slipped our way back to the house in the blizzard. We at least had a car so I could take the boys with me to my former church to bring a Sunday message.
In asking for prayer support from friend, I also contacted those who I volunteer with that run a non-commercial Christian radio station. They indicated that if I decided on buying this car, I could ride with them to pick it up. Turns out, they had to be in the town where the car is located in order to do some work on a new radio transmitter. So now I have hopes of replacing a car & possible means of going after it.
The topic I had settled on for the Sunday message at my former church was to be called, "Why Do Good Things Happen To Bad People". It was from a Bible study by a pastor of a large Baptist church in Memphis, the late Dr. Adrian Rogers. I picked it out from some of the Bible studies I had previously given at the weekly prison ministry at the county jail. This message would not just be for my former church family...but for me, too. One of the main points in the lesson was that there are many bad or tragic things in our lives that God does not rule over but where He does not rule, He OVER-rules. My oldest boy would also play his trumpet for the service & we were then invited to dinner by a long-time friend who also used to attend there, once the services were over. The church also surprised us with a $50 honorarium for my "pulpit supply".
The Lord did use the message to encourage me & my former church members & I finished feeling like things were picking up. I had told my friend that before we went for dinner, we would need to stop by to see the car I was planning on buying We spent some time catching up with the family selling the car, both me & my friend took the car out on the road & were both satisfied with how it ran. After making plans on when to pick up the car, we headed off for dinner.
My Friend & I spent several hours catching up on things & enjoying a hefty dinner with his wife. The boys got to take in several hours of the Cartoon Network as we enjoyed each others' company. By late afternoon, we needed to make our way home, so I packed the kids in the rental car headed out the door. My friend walked me to the car & as he shook my hand, slipped a wad of cash to me & said he also wanted to help in this time of need. I, of course, told him he didn't need to, but he disagreed. As we were driving eastward back home along the freeway, I examined the wad & counted out $160 in disbelief. He really didn't have to do that.
After arriving home, I gave my wife what the church gave me & then the wad I got from my friend. She was dumbstruck by this sudden blessing & sat there just shaking here head, also in disbelief. I went to bed thinking of just how many prayers were said for us over this incident since I first started telling folks about it.
Monday I had my trepidations taking a rental car to work with Bambi lurking in the woods. But I made it to work & back & only saw Bambi once, peeking off the roadside as I drove by blinking my lights. Coming home after work, I checked the mail & saw an envelope from my friend who keeps me brushed up on my Bible knowledge. Inside, I found check & a note saying this was a gift that God will hopefully multiply. I shook my head in amazement at how God had manifested Himself in so many ways since Bambi & I first "connected".
Since it was Halloween, I went around with the boys as they "trick-or-treated" through the neighborhood. After we got home & sorted out the candy, we began getting them ready for bed. Both were still pretty anxious about possibly not getting to spend Thanksgiving with their cousins this year. They told me they were going to ask God to make it possible.
The phone rang for me as I was keeping the kids on the bedtime track & was told it was my cousin from AL calling. He had been reading about the progress of how the deer hit had jeopardized our trip to our reunion & wanted to do something to help. He asked how much costs were involved for fuel for the trip. I told him what I typically would spend for the 3,000+ mile trip. He said I should not have to worry about being able to make it to our family reunion because he would pick up the tab. I guess the gift from my friend that I got in the mail that afternoon really did multiply.
As I waited to find out when I need to meet my friends who will be taking me to pick up the car, I reflected on the blessings that have come as a result of Bambi, who began a series of events that was used by God to remind me that in the end, it's all His to start with ...and ultimately it is He who still has everything under control. I picked up the car & drove it home on I-80...which must have had every tractor-trailer in the entire state of PA traveling on it that day. Since it was a Wednesday, my wife had to be at choir practice & my oldest son was wanting to make it to a youth group he has been attending. So, coming straight from St. Marys, I met my wife at a McDonald's that was at the I-80 exit that I get off to go to our house & had the kids swap cars.
As I headed to drop off my son at his youth group, traveling through State College, the brakes on the car started going soft & the brake light came on. By the time I dropped my son off, I had no brakes at all. Since there were no garages I knew that were open after 7pm, I opted to stop at Pep Boys to see what was the problem. I called my friend who sold me the car, who was mortified at hearing the news. He offered to buy back the car but I wanted to first diagnose the trouble. Pep Boys found that the entire brake line was rusted & was saying it would be an 8 hr. job, costing at least $1,000.
Hello, God? This is NOT funny.
I had to lose a day of work the next day & started at 7am looking for someone to do brake work quick, effective, & cheap. My friend offered to let us pay for the repairs out of what was owed them & send them the difference. My friend at the Christian radio station gave me a few garages to call, most however most told me that they could take the car the next day or the next week. One garage in town said they could take it that day. We opted on this even though they did not take credit cards (which is our safety net in emergencies). We could, however, pay for the work using a local check against our line of credit. It only took 6 hours to replace the brake line with corrosive-resistant brake line & we were only charged $303, saving our friends from losing over $700 off their price of the car (no thanks to Pep Boys--which I do NOT recommend to anyone for any reason!).
With the car repaired, we received word that our insurance settlement would be in the mail this week so we could pay the car off with our friends & get some other debt paid. We spent the weekend enjoying 2 drama-free days & telling folks in our family & our church of how God provides. We resumed planning for our trip to my family's Thanksgiving reunion with my oldest son practicing on his trumpet to play my dad's favorite song, His Eye Is On The Sparrow. I thought what an appropriate song to play that attests to the over-ruling power of God! And, God has continued to provide through my family. Today when checking the mail, another letter came from another cousin who has felt led to send us money to help pay for our trip to my reunion!
November typically is associated with the Thanksgiving turkey, but this year our Thanksgiving will be symbolized by Bambi. It was because of Bambi we experienced a minor catastrophe which ushered in a major wave of blessings. We, indeed, have much to be thankful for: A car, a job, wonderful friends, a supportive church family, an invaluable family, & an amazing God.
To God be the Glory! GREAT things HE has done!
I read this year that one of my "heroes" who is a tremendous influence on my life, my former Baptist Student Union (or now called, "Baptist Collegiate Ministries") Director, is retiring. Okay, so I knew it had to come & I'm okay with that. But that's not what stopped me in my tracks & made me do a double-take in life. It was what I came upon in my trunk of junk down in my basement a few months ago. I had always remembered this item, though I had forgotten about actually saving it in my trunk.
Arliss Dickerson was my BSU Director during the 4 years I attended Arkansas State University. During my intense involvement with the ASU/BSU, the impact he had upon my life would eventually reverberate well into the 21st Century. I always felt that his mentorship was unique & was something that stayed with me. But it wasn't until years later, after getting married, moving 1,200 miles from my home, & starting a family, that I discovered that he had been elevated by other BSU Directors to a type of "Baptist Sainthood" among collegiate ministers. Needless to say that even this was no surprise to me.
But when I found this memento in my trunk, it hit me that Arliss was a one-of-a-kind person. Coming out of a childhood where my relationships were mostly fair-weathered, what I learned from Arliss & how he established relationships was one of the primary cornerstones that help to build my character. And how I got this memento was one of the most random moments of my life--yet it was something I will cherish like a family heirloom.
Arliss & I were standing in the breezeway entrance of the Baptist Student Center one afternoon (I believe the current term in culture is "chillin'"), not really talking...but when we did, it was about nothing, when he reached out nonchalantly & grabbed a plain white piece of paper. He reached for a black "Majik Marker" & scribbled a note, folded the paper, & handed it to me. He smiled & headed down the hall to his office. Totally thinking to myself, "Okay, what crazy thing did Arliss write?" I unfolded the paper & saw this:
A little note that had a big impact.
I chuckled at the randomness of his attempt at a campaign slogan, but then it just sunk in to my psyche that I was a person of value to him. I was someone who mattered. It wasn't because of what I was doing in my work with the BSU, it wasn't because of my dashing good looks, it wasn't because of my filthy rich family... It was because I was who I was. I remembered taking this note with me & when I got back to my dorm, I placed it in my trunk where it was kept with all the other milestones I've passed through my life.
I have to say that since crossing paths with Arliss Dickerson, the way I treat people has profoundly changed. I could have held a chip on my shoulder from my childhood & grown up bitter & resentful. But I saw what authenticity in friendship looked like & felt how it was able to dissolve away the immaturity of childhood. I'm sure there'll be much hoopla during the year leading up to a huge, much-publicized, retirement party for Arliss. And I'm equally sure of the fact that it will be something that brings a certain degree of discomfort to Arliss because he never seemed like a person who relished a whole lot of attention being poured on him. It actually was a distraction to him because he was just too busy "being Arliss".
Frankly, if I ever got the chance to become "President of the World", I know who would be my "Chief of Staff".
When that first grader stands at the door of his classroom on the first day of school, it's as though he or she is standing at the edge of a jungle that will take 12 years to go through. Facing it can be a challenge or an opportunity. As the child journeys through, a choice must be made to either learn to adapt to jungle life [Tarzan] or be pursued by jungle life [tourist].
It was a jungle that I faced as a kid where I found out about the predators who lurked in the shadows & I found out about the natives who showed me how to survive. It is in this environment that one must understand the "law of the jungle". Frankly, every kid who begins the journey through school will encounter some anxiety along with adventure. The thrill of adventure comes from meeting new friends, learning new things, & discovering new abilities. the agony of anxiety comes from not knowing the way to go, overcoming a stronger opponent, & the fear of failure.
As I walked through the jungle, I could either let my anxiety overcome me or I could embrace my adventure to propel me over my challenges. This never eliminated my challenges, but it did provide me with tools necessary to meet them head-on. For a dozen years, I endured my trip through the education system in only one school district. I never had to relocate to a new jungle. What I encountered in 1st Grade would follow me right through my senior year in high school.
What I am left with my experience in the jungle is a memory of survival of the fittest. I never desired to compete in athletics or in any other organised events. But I did compete with my social environment that surrounded me in the jungle. I don't know what started my impact with the jungle environment but I do know that I evolved to become the "comic relief" or the "class dunce" as I advanced to each new grade level.
I was greeted by my 6th Grade classmates
by being hung on the coat rack.
In today's culture, I would have been classified as a victim of bullying.
This really didn't matter too much to me until recently when my oldest son, who at 10 years old & in the 5th Grade at a private Christian school, began to encounter the same thing. I simply learned to survive through my anxiety but my son was having some serious issues dealing with his. He confessed to his Mom one evening that he had thought of hanging himself.
Now the jungle that my son went through was small potatoes compared to my jungle. To him, however, nothing could compare. We acted immediately by meeting with his teacher, school councillor, & the school's headmaster. And things are now on a upward improvement.
But during my journey in the jungle, there was no awareness of the impact elements like this have on those who experience it. It was an "every kid for himself" mentality. Granted, 30 years ago families were more stable than they are in today's society. There was more affirmation & love from moms & dads who kept their commitment to each other & to their families. I am certain that is one of the advantages I had in my favour.
I was able to tell my son about the "jungle stories" from when I was his age so to assure him that he was not the only one who was going through this trial...nor would he be the last kid who was ever harassed, bullied, insulted, isolated, or prejudiced. I told him of the countless times I was the last one picked for team games on the playground..and how the teacher would have to overrule & assign me to a team--who protested about my participation. I also told him how my 5th Grade teacher, frustrated at my comical antics (or some other trait I was displaying) said, "...you are a disgrace to the human race!" If a teacher said that today, they would soon become a "former" teacher.
Then there was the time I was dropped off at school early & was met at the door of my 6th Grade homeroom by a few of my classmates who decided to relieve me of my coat & books so they could tie my hands behind my back with jump rope. Then as they led me to the coat rack in the back of the classroom, I remember hearing my teacher say (as she was looking down at her gradebook while grading papers), "Ya'll don't hurt him, now." The next think I knew, I was being lifted up onto a metal hook on the coat rack...which snapped off within seconds, sending me plummeting into the pile of coats on the floor.
I told him of how things escalated in Jr. & Sr. High School--when I would only hang out behind the high school building after lunch because I was afraid that if I ventured to the front of the building I would be chased down & forced to sit on the "queer stump" that was by the sidewalk. And about the time when I was one of the "featured contestants" in 7th Grade for a "marshmallow eating contest" at a "pep rally" (how this pertains to pepping up the high school team remains to be seen). The cheerleaders called my name to "come on down" & be blindfolded in front of the 670 7th-12th Graders in the bleachers. I was to consume as many marshmallows that were being stuffed into my mouth as I could & if I swallowed more than the other "contestants", I would win. I didn't know until I had finished the "game" & walked back to the stands that I needed to go to the bathroom to wash my face off. It was then that I saw in the mirror the marshmallows had all be dusted with black charcoal, which was now smeared all over my face.
Yes, my jungle had plenty of memorable moments in addition to having to face a few actual "bullies" who would make physical threats to harm me...though none ever happened. I can at least be thankful that I never had to suffer a black eye, broken bone, or other injuries. The effect, however, was enough to instil a constant feeling of caution...to guard my emotions or my psyche...toward any advances toward me. I have often said that I've had so many "fair weather friends", I could easily go to work for AccuWeather.
It wasn't until my senior year that my jungle began to clear out somewhat. I was called to the door of my World Civilisations class by my teacher who said there was someone to see me. When I saw it was a fellow classmate who was on the school paper staff, armed with a camera, my defence shields went up. I was asked to follow her down the hall. When I asked where we were going, I was told that I was joining others in my class in the court yard to get photos for the school paper because in the recent survey by the senior class, I was voted "Most Civic Minded". Needless to say, my first reaction was that it was a set-up...that there was no way my name could ever be associated with "Most..." anything unless it was something like, "Most Likely to be Weird".
Maturity & life's experiences have
made a lot of changes in people.
As I came out of my jungle & entered the mature world of college life, I met new friends there who began to introduce me to genuine friendship & acceptance. I found that I didn't need to be the oddball to attract attention. I could just be myself. People I met & began to know in college soon replaced those who I knew & associated with in the 12 years of my undergraduate experiences. Additionally, with the advent of online "social networks", those acquaintances from my elementary, Jr., & Sr. high school years have drifted back in the form of "friend requests". It's fascinating to me, quite honestly, why I would be requested as a friend on a social network when I was so frequently--and vocally--passed over when I physically was in their presence during childhood. I do understand that maturity & life's experiences have made a lot of changes in people...and it has in my life, too. I certainly do not process my relationships the same way I did when I was a kid. But it still is something that I ponder.
Ironically, 2011 will be the 30th Anniversary of my graduating class. There's been some discussion about a reunion. But, I think I'm going to be busy then.
Why does a nation have a "national anthem"? Why does a school have an "alma mater"? It is to signify loyalty & commitment to that institution or to that cause. It is to inspire the pursuit toward a goal, a cause, a legacy. At ball games, school functions, & other events that include communities, we all rise pay tribute to the National Anthem of the United States of America. Some remove their hats, place their hands over their hearts -- all to show our loyalty to our Nation. But what was behind the lyrics of this song that Sir Francis Scott Key composed on September 14, 1814 that eventually became our country's call to loyalty? Well, here's a historical refresher course:
While many know the story behind Francis Scott Key penning the beloved Star Spangle Banner, not many know the story of the flag that was flown at Fort McHenry that inspired the Key to write the words that would become the National Anthem of the United States of America. This flag was created by Mary Young Pickersgill.
The War of 1812 was a critical time during in America's history. The Commander of Fort McHenry, Colonel Armistead, along with other military leaders, knew how important Fort McHenry was to nation at this time. The British had burned Washington and were advancing toward Balitmore. These brave leaders felt that the Baltimoreans were discouraged and afraid. They felt that they would have their spirits raised by seeing a huge, high flying flag at Fort McHenry as a symbol of defiance.
It was because of this that Colonel Armistead commissioned Mary Youngs Pickersgill, a local seamstress and flag maker to make two flags for Fort McHenry in 1813 - a large flag and a smaller one to fly in bad weather. She was paid $500 for both flags, the large one being 30 x 42 feet, so it could be seen from a great distance. She was asked to sew a flag with 15 stars and 15 stripes, the number of states then in the Union.
Anticipating an attack on Fort McHenry by the British during the War of 1812, Major Armistead asked that the flag be made extra large so that it would be plainly visible to the English Fleet. He had also hoped the large flag would lift the spirits of the Baltimoreans, allowing them to see this flag fly in defiance of the British.
This flag was used as the garrison flag of Fort McHenry during the British siege of the fort during the War of 1812. When Francis Scott Key saw the flag from a ship eight miles down the Patapsco River on September 14, 1814, the flag was still waving in the breeze after twenty-five hours of heavy bombardment by the British. The British were very discouraged to see it still there, but Key was inspired to write the poem that became the National Anthem.
The poem was set to the tune of a popular British drinking song, written by John Stafford Smith for the Anacreontic Society, a men's social club in London. "The Anacreontic Song" (or "To Anacreon in Heaven"), with various lyrics, was already popular in the United States. Set to Key's poem and renamed "The Star-Spangled Banner", it would soon become a well-known American patriotic song. With a range of one and a half octaves, it is known for being difficult to sing. Although the song has four stanzas, only the first is commonly sung today, with the fourth ("O thus be it ever when free men shall stand...") added on more formal occasions. In the fourth stanza, Key urged the adoption of "In God is our Trust" as the national motto ("And this be our motto: In God is our Trust"). The United States adopted the motto "In God We Trust" by law in 1956.
"The Star-Spangled Banner" was recognized for official use by the Navy in 1889 and the President in 1916, and was made the national anthem by a congressional resolution on March 3, 1931 (46 Stat. 1508, codified at 36 U.S.C. § 301), which was signed by President Herbert Hoover.
When reading the lyrics, I began asking myself if we as Americans who proclaim loyalty to this country by singing them really believe them enough to live them in our daily lives.
Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Traveling 62 miles a day to a job 5 days a week has its challenges. Within 3 weeks of my first day on the job in 2005, I did the "Tennessee Waltz" on an icy bridge & totaled my 2003 Saturn. So, I ended up getting a pre-owned 2003 Saturn ION & adding another year or two to my car payments.
Just about 2 months ago that ION was paid off & shortly after that, I ran over a coon that knocked out an air vent under the grille (a cosmetic loss). This was the 2nd time I had hit a coon that did the same damage. I had also hit a deer less than a year prior to this which did over $4,000 damage to the car & the insurance company wanted to total the vehicle. But I did prevail & was happy to still be driving a good looking, superior-running vehicle that was totally paid for.
Until this morning.
That's when I ran into a bridge going to work. At 4:45am. After light rain had wet the road just enough to slicken it down. And it was just because I was going through my mental checklist as I was headed to work. There was a thunderstorm nearby & winds were whipping the trees around. The road I travel has had its share of downed trees since it follows a creek between some steep hillsides where trees can grow sideways. Just 4 days earlier I had driven through the top of a tree that was lying across the road as I came home one night. I didn't see the tree as I rounded the curve & the headlights from the car in the oncoming lane kept me from noticing the obstruction in the roadway.
So, as I'm mulling through the morning's duties as I drive down this creekside road, I'm also looking for more possible downed trees. What I didn't do was anticipate the sharp turn in the road soon enough. So when I hit the brakes, the rain-slickened road didn't cooperate & I slid right into the guard rail of the bridge on the curve. That shattered the lens & knocked out the turn signal on my car's driver's side & busted the fiberglass fender. It also put a little bump in the hood & popped out the fender on the driver's side.
This all happened just 2 days after talking to some folks who will one day become my new employers & deliver me from the bondage of a job I've labored in for over 5 years with a trickle of money so show for my work. And all I could think of as I stood on the dark roadway in the rain inspecting the damage was this was all I needed to start my day after having such a feeling of relief of what is on my horizon.
I got back in & continued the remaining 29 miles to work & stewed over how I was going to be able to shell out the cash for this on a car that I love to drive, that is paid for, that runs like a top, but that the insurance company will view as a used paper cup. I'm brewing on how little money I do have, how little money I make, & how much my bills are. I am just a few miles from Canaan (my victory) having just been delivered from Egypt (my enslavement) & now I'm stuck in the wilderness.
It is difficult to see a victory in this case because the wilderness can be so thick. And I am close enough to Egypt that I'm tempted to just go back & continue in my bondage rather than stick it out through the wilderness & keep my focus on Canaan. It is because I don't know what lies ahead but I do know what has been behind. Just last week, I led a Bible study for some county inmates & told them that we cannot experience victory unless we've had a conflict.
And right now the conflict comes in the form of doubt & discouragement because I can feel the breath of Amalek on my collar. Do I just turn around & go back to Egypt? Do I sit down & remain stuck in the wilderness? Or do I press ahead through the tangled mess in the wilderness & use the "rod" (similar to what Moses did in the wilderness), which is the Word of God, & keep walking toward Canaan? Moses couldn't do it by himself. He had to depend on Aaron (who represents prayer) & Hur (who represents purity) to hold up his arms in battle.
I definitely need a victory & this perpetual pursuit by my flesh can either hold me back or help me savor that victory when I cross into Canaan. The only way to achieve this is to give the battle to the Lord & keep walking through the wilderness.
There is always something that reminds me that we live in a fallen world.
My kids are enrolled in a Christian school because my wife & I would prefer that they be taught with Biblical values along with the understanding of today's culture. It's not a Christian school that tries to shelter kids from the reality of life, but teaches kids how to deal with the reality of life.
That reality came alive this year when Gabriel entered into my oldest son's life. Most kids at the school come from Christian families who seemingly have all their lives wrapped up in a pretty Christmas box with a red bow on top. Gabriel, on the other hand, comes from a family where his parents have been in & out of incarceration. His father is out west & his mom is back East--neither having a desire to see their son...much less have any involvement with his 9 year old life. He, instead, spends his time with his mother's parents...not even having his own bedroom.
Gabriel (in the striped shirt) with Cameron & his friends.
Gabriel has had behavioral issues at school from calling other students (like my son) unkind names (like "idiot") to slapping/hitting other students (of which my son has also experienced). He's had several warnings & visits to the office. Last Friday, he was suspended for the day, which included his being unable to participate in the annual school Christmas program. Remember, Gabriel is in 4th Grade.
Once, after an incident involving my son, a school administrator took Gabriel aside to talk to him about why he was acting the way he was. The school official asked particularly why he was calling my son an "idiot". He replied because "[he] has a dad & I don't". When we told our son about this, he sobbed & exclaimed, "It's not FAIR!"
How's that for a reality check?
We decided to look this one-eyed monster in the face. We've invited Gabriel to have a sleepover & spend a couple of days with us. My oldest son actually made the initial move to ask if he could have Gabriel over. We're going to make a trip to the annual The Miracle of Christmas production at Sight & Sound Theatre in Lancaster, PA. Then the boys & I will get up early Saturday morning to go to our church's mens prayer breakfast before coming back home & do some sledding down our hilly front yard. We found out that Gabriel really has no one to play with where he lives at his Grandparent's house.
We also told our son that he's welcome--if the subject came up--to "volunteer" us to be Gabriel's "adopted" family (and to "volunteer" me to be his "adopted" dad), if he wants.
In talking with Gabriel's grandmother as we set up his sleepover, we found out he also has a bedwetting issue. No surprise considering the drama going on in his life. So we certainly have our work cut out for us. But this is what God commands us to do... Even though Gabriel is getting some Godly direction at a Christian school, it doesn't stop there. It takes involvement. It takes living outside the box. It takes risk. And it may even cost something.
There are plenty other "Gabriels" that we may not even know or recognize...some that actually attend our churches or go to our schools. Some may be in our own family.
It was the angel Gabriel who announced the Good News to the shepherds which we celebrate each Christmas season. Will we be the ones to show the fruits of that "Good News" to all of the other "Gabriels" in this world?
I had a really great time taking my boys to our family's 49th annual Leslie Reunion in Arkansas this past Thanksgiving. And we made it the whole 3,047 miles with no trouble at all in a car that rolled past 150,000 miles! However as we were on our last "leg" of the trip, I began to hear sounds that told me some extensive break/rotor work was in store.
We got home & sure enough, the sounds got more noticeable to the point that I realized I could not go another day without getting this looked at unless I wanted to have some major automotive work done. After hanging around the State College Firestone from 1:30-5:45pm on the last day of the month...a day that everyone was trying to get in for their last minute state inspections...I found out what I already knew. I would need a brake/rotor replacement...to the tune of over $300. That was the least they recommended. I also need a brake flush & front-end allignment ($68 each) & some tires.
The good news: Well, I did get in for repairs on a crazy day like it was, I used a $50 off ad & got another $20 off that because we qualified for a Firestone credit card (Oh, joy...another one). But that got us 90 days of interest-free credit (so we could spread our payments out at just $90 over the 3 months...provided we could come up with the $90 somewhere). So we made out with owing only $266.
But how many cars can one say they've been able to drive on an 8-day, 3,000+ mile road trip that has over 100,000 miles...with no transmission trouble, electrical trouble, engine trouble, alternator trouble....etc.? And what price do you put on being able to reconnect with the only family you have that just happens to live over 1,500 miles away from you...and pass on a family tradition to your children?
It was a nice birthday treat out with the wife & kids, stuffing ourselves at the Texas Roadhouse. But it ended with a little doggie being rounded up for cattle rustlin'.
This is the hard part of parenting.
After dinner, stuffed with catfish, burgers, steak, & hot dogs, we made a trip to the local supermarket for some essentials & to pick up a few other items at the candy section. My youngest, Daniel, has a severe weakness for candy. He could live on candy. He has visions of sugarplums in his head every night...not just the night before Christmas.
We were picking through a heaping mound of loose "trial sized" candy bars for a project & kept fending off requests from both kids for candy. The boys have had more candy over the past week than they've had in weeks. And Mommy had decided they had "candied enough". We got what we needed & checked out, then headed for home.
We drove the 15 miles back to our house, turned into our development, & my wife realized she'd not heard a peep from Daniel. She was afraid he had fallen asleep on the ride home, like he's done in so many prior trips to town. She looks back in her rear-view mirror & asks if Daniel's okay...if he's awake. We hear a feeble, "yes. ...~sniff!~" Mommy asks what was wrong & was answered by a "You're gonna get mad at meeeeeeee!" that was splurted out by our little 2nd Grader.
So here we are 1/2 mile from our house wondering what the meltdown was about. Caving in from guilt, Daniel fessed up he had eaten candy he had lifted from that tempting mound at the supermarket. My wife looked as if she had heard him confess to an armed robbery. She stopped the car dead in the road, looked back at the criminal, & asked, "You, what??"
Daniel's older brother, Cameron, & I were then deposited onto our driveway when we arrived at our house whereupon "Sheriff Mommy, The Bounty Hunter" promptly put the "patrol car" in reverse to return the 7-year old felon back to the store to face the music. I last saw this trembling offender, looking pale as a sheet, saying over & over, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!!" Sheriff Mommy had a twinkle in her eye as she drove off.
Meanwhile, as I walked upstairs with Cameron, he was appearing more & more anxious & finally asked, "Is Daniel going to 'juvie'?" I responded, "I don't know, Cameron. We've never had any of our kids do something like this." We got inside the house & he went straight to his room, buried his head in his comforter, & squawlled like a little girl.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Mommy on her way back to the supermarket, kept hearing her prisoner say, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!" & the closer to the store they got, the more he began to make sounds like he was hyperventilating. At one point, he asked, "Am I going to have to go before The Judge?" Mommy couldn't say. He would just have to find out. Then the guilty robber began blubbering, "I can't do this, I can't do this, Mommy!" He was told, he should've thought of this before he kifed the candy.
Once at the store, Daniel was marched in & a manager was located. The culprit was taken to a back room. Sheriff Mommy made him spill the beans...er, I mean candy...to the store manager. Daniel bawled that he "couldn't help it because I like candy!!!!!" The manager, who was totally wonderful through the interrogation, explained to Daniel how that when items are stolen from a store, ultimately others must pay the price of this because the store has to raise the prices of their items to pay for the stolen ones. And this hurts their customers who don't have a lot of money to buy food. He was also told that the store has cameras that can see what goes on ...and others who have stolen items have been taken out in handcuffs.
After a near-death experience with The Law, Sheriff Mommy paid his bail (a total of 15 cents for the "hot" candy) & Daniel was let off with a warning.
When they arrived home, Cameron heard the garage door go up & he made a bee-line from his bedroom all the way across the house to the basement door (without even looking in the direction of his dad, who was standing only 9 feet away). He got to Sheriff Mommy's patrol car & swayed his head back & forth, trying to look for his brother, the outlaw. They were reunited & both learned a huge lesson.
As I tucked our paroled thief into bed & had him say his prayers, I asked if he was happy to go to sleep in his bed instead of the one at the jail. I got an emphatic "yes". I'm pretty sure, this will be a brush with the law that he will not soon forget.
And neither will Mommy or Daddy.
Or big brother, Cameron.
However, if it were I who was the arresting officer in this situation, I would've made a quick side trip to the Centre County Correctional Facility, that sits not more than 4 miles from our house, & tell my suspect in the back seat I may have to go inside to arrange for them to take in a new inmate. But Mommy didn't do that because she's a softie.
It's uncanny how similar my own personality is with my oldest son's. On many occasion I can see my early developing persona being lived out before my eyes. On one such occasion was this past Friday. As was the case over the past several years, I heard the bus pull up, the kids get off & the usual chatter coming up the steps into the house. Except this time I was hearing sobs.
I, meanwhile was "indisposed" & listened through the walls as what apparently was Cameron walking through the house as he "boo-hoo'd". My thought was that he either injured himself or something was said on the bus or by some kids outside as he got off the bus that upset him. Regardless of this he, & his brother, were supposed to be going through their "routine" of hanging up their backpacks, making their beds, & doing their other chores. A routine I had to physically supervise repeatedly 5 days a week, 9 months a year, for the past 4 years. And it was getting old.
When I confronted Cameron, his face was soiled with tears, contorted & red from his crying. He blurted out to me that he'll "never" get his Schoolastic books again. After conducting a brief investigation into what he was talking about, I discovered his very strict, old-fashioned 4th Grade teacher at Nittany Christian handed out those popular Schoolastic Book orders (I couldn't wait to get mine when I was in elementary school in Booneville, AR either), but told the kids they could not open their order "bag" until they got on the bus. It seems a lot would tear into their book order & not get the rest of their classwork done. Cameron, so wrapped up at the anticipation of getting to dive into his new books, left--again for the 2nd time--his homework folder & his assignment book at the school. This after having to sit out recess on the bench for doing the same thing the day before.
However, using surprisingly good self-control, he did obediently wait until he got on the bus to open his bag--only to find the teacher mixed up the bags & he got another student's order. Now, to him, this meant that his order went to another student who would probably toss his book order out the door into the trash & he'd never see it again. This realization deteriorated into a complete shut-down of his mental faculties & caused him to also leave his lunch bag on the bus for the weekend.
So now we have no homework, no assignment book, no lunch bag, & no Schoolastic Books...and Cameron was having a catatonic meltdown over it. He couldn't even get control enough to focus on getting his chores done either, which was lighting my fuse. This is a kid who gets side-tracked at the drop of a hat--which was exactly my problem at his age--and since this is an issue that's "close to home" with me, is an issue that I have little patience for. So, I erupt with a lecture on responsibility & dealing with disappointment, while demanding him to pull himself together & take care of his responsibilities at home.
After 10 minutes, he's still sitting on his unmade bed, in his bedroom that's strewn full of dirty clothes, toys, & books over the floor. I hit the roof & condemned him to his room for the weekend & he was to put his nose in the book he was reading so he could have it done in time to do his report on it at the end of the next week. No play, no toys, no TV, no this, no that. Just reading. I fully intended to use this weekend that Mommy would be away at a church women's retreat as one that I would teach him a lesson. He would stay in that room only coming out long enough to pee, poop, & eat.
I stormed back into the den to look over the homework papers my youngest son had brought home for review & began to think about how I would let one event unravel everything else that would happen in a day. I also thought about how smart Cameron is in that he really doesn't have to do much studying because he has a memory like a steel trap & has constantly come home with grades that were over the top. He even has scored so high that he now attends an "enrichment" class for gifted students. But it still gnawed at me that in spite of this kid's amazing academic ability, he would flunk on something as mundane as forgetting to turn in homework on time.
Once the storm blew through & things began to calm down a bit, and Cameron had spend a good 15 minutes silently reading in his room, all wrapped up in his comforter, it was as if the voice of God whispered in my ear, "Go sit with him. Don't do or say anything else. Just go sit with him on his bed while he reads."
After mulling over this suggestion, I walked into his room & asked him if he was feeling better. Looking up from his book he replied, "A little. I was just sad because you were yelling at me..." I sat down with him in his bed & he snuggled under my arm as he continued reading. After a few minutes he asked, "What are you doing?" "Sitting with you while you read," I replied. Then he continued to read on to himself. Several more minutes passed & he asked, "Dad, what is a 'lunch-ee-on'?" He had hit a word in his book he didn't understand. "That's 'luncheon'...it's like a fancy lunch," I said.
And this continued for the next several minutes, his occasional question on a word, & my answer, then silence. Finally I looked at my watch & he asked if he could go outside to play. I thought to myself, "oh, what the heck...we've all had a bad day" & replied to him, "Sure. You've read enough for today."
It was a small, humble gathering along the banks of the West Branch of the Susquehanna River in Lock Haven where folks from our church, Big Woods Bible Church, gathered. There we witnessed the baptism of Daniel, my youngest son, who had made the choice a few weeks earlier of receiving Christ into his heart. At first, Daniel just wanted to be baptized because he had seen so many of his friends be baptized as well as his older brother, Cameron, who made a similar decision when attending kindergarten. I have been somewhat hesitant with Daniel because I know his cognitive understanding of things eternal is not as sharp as Cameron's.
I didn't want our Pastor to baptize Mario or SpongeBob. Daniel has quite an imagination. Instead, I wanted Daniel to fully understand why he was being baptized. Nevertheless, Daniel took it upon himself to approach our Pastor one afternoon following a church baptism to say that he wanted to be baptized, too. The Pastor assured that he would as soon as he had the chance to come over to the house to talk with him & me.
Daniel promptly informed me of this exchange of information & to let me know that "Pastor Ted" was coming to see us.
When we all sat down, Daniel, Pastor, & I, we began inquiring exactly what Daniel wanted. Daniel told us he had prayed to God a few months earlier. Pastor asked him what he told God. Daniel replied confidently, "I want to get baptized."
So we went through a simple presentation of what it meant to follow Jesus, as I tried to bring the salvation message to his understanding level. I said to follow God, he needs to promise God that he would try his best to live his life in a way that he would not "hurt God's feelings" by his actions...or by disobeying God. Baptism is a symbolic ritual that tells all those who witness it, that he has made a promise to God.....and if he did not actually make that promise to God, he would essentially not be telling the truth if he went through with baptism. Daniel understood what this meant & agreed to pray with us to ask God to forgive him of wanting to act his own way instead of the way God wanted...and promised God that he would, indeed, try as hard as he could to please God with his actions so he would not hurt His feelings. There were a few tears as he understood the impact of the words he was saying to God. And after praying, he blubbered out, "But I still get in trouble in school!!" We both assured him that times like that will still happen, but now he has God's Spirit living in his heart now & he has help in being able to know the right way to please God.
Now, during a summer that has been unusually wet & cool, Daniel stood before some of his friends from his church & his family as Pastor Ted relayed how Daniel made the decision to follow Christ...and to be baptized. We weren't sure the event would happen because the rain had risen the river level & had made things a bit soft along the river bank. But we were able to scrape together a change of dry clothes, a towel, & a photographer (thanks to our fellow "Big Woodser", Traci Fotorny) & celebrate Daniel's decision to join a family far bigger than his own.
Wow, how time flies when you're distracted. Yeah, new year...new stuff. Good grief. I can't believe a full quarter of the year has passed before I've left an imprint here. Well, I've been preoccupied with kids, work, church, & Facebook. I must say, Facebook has become my superhighway to staying in touch with folks.
A recent survey found that social networks have passed up email as the primary method of online communication. I used to have a free account with places like Alumni.com (later Reunion.com...now MyLife.com) & Classmates.com. But most all wanted me to pay for the ability to interact more with my former schoolmates. Enter Facebook. In a single year, my friends list mushroomed by 100+ as old friends (and I do not use this term loosely) reconnected....and it didn't cost me a dime. So pardon my distraction.
At the same time I was getting some of these friend requests, my mind was faced with a quandary. Why on earth did some of these folks decide to suddenly inquire about me? I never seemed to strike up much of an interest with them when I was in high school. Oh, sure. I know there is so much drama in the juvenile world. There is now, there was then. But nevertheless my experience in my high school life wasn't all that stellar. It was pretty blah.
Familiarity breeds contempt & by the time I had lived through a dozen years in my local public school system, there was plenty of contempt to go around. I was not athletic (although you could say I was a great "athletic supporter") so I didn't fit in with the "jocks". I wasn't talented enough to play an instrument, so I wasn't in the band. I didn't get straight A's (or many B's either, actually) so I wasn't in with the school's Brain Trust. So, that pretty much left me in the invisible crowd...not really paid much of mind to.
Add that to the frequent "butt of jokes", & what you have is a total disinterest in my high school life. A lot of this started with my 7th Grade exposure to the school body. At a pep rally...where all students (7th-12th Grades) were assembled in the local armory. There, a "marshmallow eating contest" (or so they called it) to see who could consume the most amount of jumbo marshmallows that would be stuffed into one's mouth by the school cheerleaders (i.e. the snooty girls).
Well, what do you know? Little ol' me was picked as one of the contestants to join the other half-dozen slouches to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of some 670 students. We were blindfolded by our cheerleader then at the signal, I felt handfuls of marshmallows mashed into my face & I began trying to swallow as many as I could--all in the name of "school spirit". The crowd was roaring with cheers, jeers, & laughs.... When it was over, & a "winner" was declared, we all had our blindfolds removed & were allowed to return to the bleachers.
I was met (along with the others who were called down) by kids laughing themselves silly, pointing at me & saying I needed to get to the bathroom to wash my face. Somewhat confused, I made my way to the boys' room where, lo & behold, there I stood...my face blackened by powered charcoal...which had covered those jumbo marshmallows. I looked like I had licked the fireplace completely clean.
All in the name of "school spirit".
As I said...such was par for the course.
After graduation, I departed for college--about 4 1/2 hours from my hometown. It was there my social experience "matured" significantly. And it was over those next 4 years I actually established friendships that would go on to last to this day...friendships that overshadowed those from the high school daze.
So, this is why it struck me as odd that now--some 30 years later on Facebook--that I'm suddenly getting requests from folks who went to high school with me. What do I have in common with them? With the huge gap in time between then & now, what has changed to the point that now I'm a person of interest? In some regards, those same old feelings started to rise to the surface that I had while back in high school. And in some way, I was faced with feelings of "why bother"? There wasn't much there in regards to having any connection in high school....and so there was little to start anything further. I felt like a tortise who was wasn't sure it was worth coming out of his shell.
So I decided, "what the heck?" Let's see what happens. It's a new century. Maybe since "familiarity breeds contempt", then, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."
