Pay It Forward

Did you see the movie? The basic theme of the movie is “treat others the way you want to be treated.” You’ll find this in the Bible in the book of Matthew – part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Last weekend, we were undeserving recipients of a small gift.

It had been over two years since we last visited the PNW when we arrived in September. So we looked forward to visiting our old stomping grounds and hanging out with old friends. We figured taking a week or two to settle into our house would still get us down to “The Couv” (Vancouver, WA) within the month. Well now it’s February and our excuses were becoming more pathetic – so last Saturday we took a drive.

Six hours (round trip) in a van with three kids is a bit daunting. But with a DVD player and a bucket of guilt, we were better equipped to make this happen. We made as many stops as possible and missed a few as well. It was great to reminisce and catch up with our friends…and to begin guilting them into driving to see us. In addition to “friend stops” we had a few “food stops” to make. #1: Sheridan’s Frozen Custard. #2 Hula Boy (Hawaiian BBQ). It was during this second visit upon which my story centers. After shoveling down barbecue chicken and gallons of sauce (jerk, teriyaki, and sweet & sour) our waitress walked to the table letting us know that our meal had been paid for.

Apparently one of the restaurant’s patrons had been dining and noticed the five of us. There was something about us he noticed, signaling him that we could use a helping hand. Sarcastically I wonder if it was our ragamuffin appearances after a three hour car ride. Uncomfortably I know that though we don’t own a private jet, we’re doing just fine. Was it the fact that our son was clearly adopted? Did God speak to him?

I wanted answers, but I resolved to just accept it. Somebody just did a really nice thing for us, so shut up and enjoy it. And I did. We’ve done nice things for others at times and I’m sure it gave us more pleasure than the recipients.

It’s in moments like that, that I am invigorated. Life seems more real. It slows down. It gets really simple. I become the world’s greatest philanthropist. I make plans to give away millions and to bless thousands of people with gifts. But I’m limited. I can only give away so much. We’ve only adopted one child while millions need it. Tens of thousands of children starve to death every day and I’m drinking a $4 cup of coffee. I’m reminded of crime, disease, homelessness, and human trafficking. Pretty soon I’m crippled with a helpless state of mind.

If you watch the news, life is hopeless. Everything sucks. Even your team just lost in the playoffs. But for me, in some small way I get to pay it forward with a message I get to share each week. While trying to save the earth one recycled bottle and one Haiti-donation at a time, I get to convey real hope:

“Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them – the Lord, remains faithful forever. He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. He sets prisoners free, gives sight to the blind, lifts those who are bowed down, loves the righteous, watches over the alien, sustains the fatherless and the widow.” – Psalm 146

Attack of the Mothers-In-Law!

Because she had to escape the harsh Minnesota winter, my mother-in-law came to Washington this week. What? Not Phoenix? L.A.? Cabo San Lucas? Well compared to the brutal Midwest winter, a “mild” Seattle winter is nothing! Plus, today it’s perfectly clear and a balmy 57.

When Carol comes to visit, life is good. We enjoy great conversation. Dishes are done. Grandchildren are giddier. Our kids’ parents rest a bit more. It’s all good. This week we had the double whammy. My parents arrived last week and stayed ‘til Tuesday morning. Three hours later, the other mother-in-law came to town. No rest for the weary (just kidding moms). My parents helped us celebrate middle child’s birthday. Again, great conversations. Dishes/laundry are done. And free babysitting! Wahoo, dinner & a movie!

Though I hear horror stories from some of my peers, Jana’s and my mothers-in-law and her father-in-law are perfect. Now if you want to talk about my parents and her parents, that’s a different story (ha, ha, just kidding again parentals). Oma, Opa, and Gami have been a huge blessing to us this past year, having visited us in three states in the past 12 months – and more than once in each location. It doesn’t matter where we move (no, we’re not going anywhere), they’ll follow us. They come to spoil the grandchildren, hug us, and tell us they’re proud of us: whether we deserve it or not. Aren’t parents great?

Ten months ago, Oma and Opa drove from CA to TX to help us move. Eight months ago, Gami came to visit us in Texas after a particularly difficult week. She just hopped on the plane to comfort us. Five months ago, Oma and Opa traveled from CA to TX to WA to CA to move our stuff (about 4-5,000 miles total). Gami is here on her second WA trip. Oma and Opa have also visited twice.

These unexpected (though expected because of their character) trips have been particularly sweet. The hard reality of the loss of CA and TX friends has hit me this week. With the onset of spring I begin thinking about golf. When I think about golf I think about my golf partner. Then I think about other friends we chose to leave. It’s bittersweet. In so many ways we’re in the right place, but it came at a price. On the encouraging side, we’ve found a community and begun friendships that are significant.

So as time passes, we are no longer completely lonely. Week by week, month by month we feel more at home. We eat dinner with new friends, we make lots of long distance phone calls, and we greatly anticipate the attacks of the mothers-in-law.

Busted

Go to your room! Don’t make me pull this thing over! Are you getting smart with me?

As a kid I remember hearing a Bill Cosby record: yes I’m that old. It was a stand up routine where he talks about parenthood: he serves his kids chocolate cake for breakfast, his kids have Dain Bramage, and on and on. Funny stuff then, really funny now! Parenthood is multi-dimensional because we get to vicariously relive our childhood. It humbles us and it makes us more appreciate our parents (“because I said so” sometimes is the best answer).

Do you remember peek-a-boo? Perhaps you’re well versed right now. Kids have this belief that if their eyes are covered, you can’t see them. So you cover their faces with a sweatshirt or something and say, “Oh, no. Where’s Elias?” When he pulls the sweatshirt off his face and giggles uncontrollably you know he hasn’t grasped object permanence.

This concept transfers to misbehavior too. You may remember when Kiera found the advent calendar chocolates, hid, and rifled through multiple morsels before we found her hiding place. (This happened in 08 and 09, by the way.) Unlike Kiera’s hiding place (which really was out of sight), Elias has found his new “den of iniquity”. Okay, a little harsh, but it’s the same idea.

Because the word he hears more than any other these days is “No” (don’t open that drawer, don’t harass the cat, don’t climb those stairs, don’t take mommy’s lipstick, don’t play with scissors, don’t throw food, etc.), he is beginning to understand that certain behaviors are not acceptable. And what are we supposed to do when faced with a moral decision? Either don’t do it or do it in a hidden location.

So at the intersection of these two concepts (object permanence and morality), we find Elias’ hideout: under the dining room table. Yes, I said under the dining room table – about as porous and effective as a patio shade structure in Seattle. In a small corner of the house and behind dining room chairs with spindly legs, hides number one son. What is he doing? What does he have? Just fill in the blank. On ______ (name a day of the week), _______ (name parent A or parent B) found Elias under the table with _______ (pick your poison). It could be a marker, a bag of rice, a dog toy, food, whatever.

We’ve become so adept at our sleuthing skills, we know that if there are 30 seconds of silence in the house, something’s going down under the table. Honestly, it’s quite entertaining. We shake our heads, call out his name, and slowly approach the crime scene. We’re either met with grunts and shrieks (translation: don’t bother me) or with an immediate protruding hand with said object (translation: I’m sorry; please don’t put me in jail).

So, where do you go when you hope to avoid getting busted? It would be foolish to say our indiscretions end in childhood. Perhaps we’re just better at concealing it. It sure makes me think a lot. Am I living in the open or am I too often hiding under the dining room table?

When Daddy Does the Shopping

Why don’t most married men do the grocery shopping in the relationship: Laziness? Sexism? Boredom? Cluelessness? In our marriage, I go once in a while. Why? Well…exhibit A:

Last Saturday, I went running. Because I’m logging as many miles as coffee I’m drinking these days, I decided to begin my “Out and Back” run next to one of our favorite local coffee houses. Except it’s actually in a grocery store. Though I most frequently patronize Starbucks, there is even better coffee and espresso! (If you haven’t understood this, please talk with me for directions on your next step.) So I run my 3 or 4 miles and walk right into the store – the one we commonly refer to as “Whole Paycheck.” (Despite said name, their espresso is ironically less expensive than Sbux.)

I wait in line, accidentally cut in front of a gracious man (because I’m so focused on the roasted beans), then sip my reward for exercising in sub 50 degree weather (very noble for Californians). Exhale. Aaaaahhhh, carefree Saturday mornings: kids at home, sipping a latte, thawing out in the bakery…oh hey, what is that smell? Oh wow. Fresh baked bread! Crunchy on the outside, chewy and warm on the inside. We definitely need a baguette!

I wonder if we need anything else? Hmmm. Let’s see. I know Jana is headed to Trader Joes later today, but I never go with her and there are a few “must have” items I want. I think I’ll wander through the aisles. Oh here’s the refrigerator section. I wonder if they have any…oh there it is! One quart of fresh squeezed orange juice. There’s nothing like it. And 6 bucks is SO worth it. Oh and there’s the milk. $5 for organic? No way.

Alright let’s see here. What’s in this aisle? Pancake syrup, chocolate bars. That reminds me – I have SO been craving one of those Santa Barbara Blazing Blenders peanut butter, chocolate, and banana smoothies. Perfect! The girls will love it. Mama’s at work tonight and we can go crazy. Let’s see, chocolate syrup – $4.50. A bit pricey, but by the time I drive to the store down the street it’ll cost me that much in gas. Oh, what the heck! Now, Ice cream. I’ll just buy the cheap stuff. Plain vanilla, store brand. Yikes, still $5. Oh well, there’s nothing like PB, chocolate, banana smoothies.

Okay, I better get home before I do too much damage. I’ll just walk this way to the regis…Hold the phone! Are those LOCAL microbrews? It is so not fair that it’s so cloudy and cold here in the winter. If it were warmer, I'd be playing golf every weekend. And that’s like $50 a round. This high quality Red Hook Copper Ale is gonna be so tasty. Perfect for our friends who are discriminating beer drinkers. Look at all the money I saved by not golfing today! On to the register. Look at those flowers! I haven’t bought flowers for my bride in a long time. And she’s watching the kids while I get some quality alone time this morning. She is so great!

“Good morning,” says the cashier. “Ice cream, beer, flowers. Someone’s having a party!” I search for a comeback. Yeah, my life is a non-stop party…that’s how I roll… “Uh, sure,” was my lame reply. At that moment I realized the obvious. My stop for coffee had turned into a shopping extravaganza of biblical proportions. Confirmed upon my arrival home, when Jana witnessed the carnage – “Look what happens when daddy does the shopping!” Well, at least I didn’t go golfing!

Control

I’m in control. Or so I think. I take great pride in being in self-sufficient. Or should I? Admitting I’m not in control can be self-denigrating if not downright dangerous.

How often have you watched television or heard people around you say, “I did it all by myself?” Really? Did you? When you were born, how much control did you have in that? Did you feed yourself as an infant? Did you have your own apartment at 18 months? Who taught you to read? Who gave you life’s very breath? Did you not attend school where teachers invested in you?

I think what is meant is that you did a lot by yourself and that more adults and peers should have cared for you or done a better job. That is a tragedy and a subject for another day. I want to talk control.

The sooner we admit we aren’t fully self-sufficient the better. That way we can more often look out for others and concurrently accept more help. We found that out this week.

At a conference in Denver I got a call from Jana stating that she wasn’t feeling well. Without me, how could we ensure the safety of our kids? After summing up the situation I realized I had to come home. But it couldn’t be done quickly. And we couldn’t do it very quietly. We needed help. We have multiple college degrees and serve people in our respective professions. We can drive cars, cook for five, preach to hundreds, save patients’ lives, and balance checkbooks (ok, not really). So we consider ourselves pretty self-sufficient. But this moment revealed again that nobody is. We all depend on the help of others, maybe even government intervention sometimes. And for those who share my view – God’s grace.

Because I could not do it on my own, I asked for help. Fortunately a taxi was available (because I didn’t have a car), an airplane was leaving at the right time (because I’m not a pilot), Diane and Brian sacrificed 10-12 hours of their Tuesday (because I wasn’t in town), and a few dozen people prayed (because they consider us worthy to be prayed for).

Within seven hours of deciding to return I arrived, indebted to many and glad to be at the best place on earth – home. Though now again the protector of my castle, I sat in silence as my four people slept. It is with every breath that I must be grateful and acknowledge I don’t control my existence any more than a sailboat captain controls the weather. My response is to ask for God’s grace and to continually respond in kind to those who aid me in my storms. It’s humbling, but it’s pretty cool too.

Third Person Kiera

Do you know anyone who speaks in the third person? I’ve talked with a few people recently that have wondered at the self-confidence and joy of little children. “Why don’t we stay like that?” we all bemoaned. What if a young mom was caught jumping on her kids’ trampoline yelling “yahoo” when her kids were inside eating a snack? What do you think when you walk by somebody who’s having a conversation by himself…to himself? Have you ever found yourself singing at the top of your lungs like an opera singer, not in the shower but at Old Navy? Could you imagine an adult who thinks that a burp is the funniest thing ever (okay, besides most men)?

Where does this zest for life go? Why do we coach our children not to sing in public by the time they’re ___ years old? I think it’s so they’ll fit in to their peer group. We don’t want them to be ostracized or made fun of. Yet isn’t it funny how it can simultaneously crush their spirits? Not to mention how many of our successful icons are quirky and march to the beat of their own drum.

Last year I was talking with Jana when I heard Meris try to interrupt our conversation. She sternly rebuked me, “I was talking to myself!” Yep – a one on none conversation. Too funny. And our most recent chuckle at childhood: Kiera is exclusively using the third person.

Dad: “What would you like for breakfast?”
Kiera: “Kiera wants raisin bran!”

Why correct her? It’s too cute. She is so confident and care free. She sobs deeply when she needs a band-aid for a mystery laceration (on pre-school days when she’s extra tired) and she rejoices exuberantly when she gets a cookie. As I watch her 1st grade sister occasionally bring up self-conscious comments revealing the inception of peer pressure, I am saddened. I know that she’s beginning to experience the sin of cruelty. I feel partially responsible for my part – unnecessary criticism and setting the example of doing things just to fit in. I pray that I will have an unequaled enthusiasm for life and that I can pass THAT on to my kids.

Conflict is a Good Thing?

Conflict. Confrontation. Disagreement.

How to you respond to these words? Have you already hid behind the couch or are you standing on the chair ready to fight? I’m a recovering conflict-avoider, toting a bag of newfound courage over my shoulder.

Through time, thousands of mistakes, a few leadership classes, and several books I have learned that being a natural peacemaker isn’t always a healthy personality type. There are benefits to ignoring the elephant in the room (such as less arguing around the holidays), but I’ve learned that acknowledging differences and asserting myself is healthier in the long run.

Take a recent example. After my first 100 days on the job, the honeymoon is over. I’ve been at work long enough to learn that my peers aren’t without faults…and that I (long pause) am not perfect (audience gasps). I know, I know. My mother will probably disagree, but I do fall short of perfection (Thanks, Mom, for believing otherwise.). This past weekend it became obviously clear to me that my program goals, my methods to arrive there, and my competence to lead people are being questioned by a few people.

Whenever you are the new kid on the block you’re given instant respect in some ways and asked to prove yourself in other ways. I have also learned through various jobs that it takes time to create a new culture for your workplace. Despite knowing the inevitability of such hurdles, I never looked forward to the impending conflict.

Despite a meeting months ago, I realized I hadn’t communicated clearly enough. A group of people wanted to reach point “A” via point “B”. I wanted to get to point “A” through point “C”. An email interaction didn’t work (as it often doesn’t) so I arranged a meeting between the groups. I looked the group in the eyes (inhale, exhale), expressed my point (inhale, exhale), listened to my friends (nod, mmhmm), asked for clarification (yes, ok), pointed to the goal (breaaaathe), celebrated our shared excitement and convictions (exhale), and concluded with a new plan of action – getting to point “A” via point “D” (EXHALE). Nobody left in tears. Everyone affirmed each other’s value. And the next time I speak with my friends/colleagues I can look at them in the eyes and enjoy easy conversation (SLEEP!).

I had lost sleep over it, but don’t have to anymore. Having studied leadership and watched a few great leaders in action, I know that many more disagreements await me. As a seminary professor said, “If there isn’t disagreement/conflict, you’re probably doing something wrong.” So assuming I continue making baby steps in leadership and refuse to roll in a ball when conflict arises, I’ll be able to maintain some semblance of respect. Since the peacemaker inside me “just wants to be loved”, I have to work at the more important task of leading. My current favorite quote regarding leadership comes from ESPN radio host Colin Cowherd: “Tell the truth. You’d be surprised how much trouble it gets you in.” I hope to get in more “trouble”, but through respectful confrontation.