Mirror Images

Growing up do you remember promising yourself that you'd never sound like your parents when disciplining your own children? Oh, the one-liners were truly ridiculous. My favorite: "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out!" Really?! You actually threatened to kill me if I didn't obey you, Dad? Nice tactic! (I think he'd agree now that this was pretty silly. Even if it did get me to treat my younger sister with kindness for 15 minutes!)

I made a vow when I became a father that I wouldn't turn into "that" phrase-spouting parent, caught in the hype of a moment, ready to dish out groundless ultimatums. Admittedly, I've had my fair share of those moments. We try so hard as parents to be good to our kids, but quickly learn that our "junk" will eventually make it's way to the surface, and we'll have to face it in the words and actions of our kids. They are a reflection of me.

I'm a worrier, and I hate that part of my "junk". For sure, I can get some good mileage out of it. When I worry I anticipate what's going to happen, and then ultimately I am better able to control the situation, thus getting the result I desire. The comedic irony in that approach is that I cannot worry long enough to anticipate every possible situation. One can easily end up in the mud, spinning his wheels in frustration, with this type of approach to life and it's challenges. I've found out the hard way (eating a lot of mud!) that trusting my heavenly Abba is a far better approach than worrying, but the junk still comes out! And the rub is that my kids see it and respond. In turn, they then begin to worry as well. It's not rocket science. They repeat what is modeled. If I want my kids to be a ball of anxiety when it comes to test-taking in school then I will let them see me hit the panic button over obligations and responsibilities. Do I want my children to value material possessions over self-controlled, thought-out spending? All I need to do is go through my paycheck right after I receive it.

Ultimately, I do believe that God uses this dynamic as a mirror image for parents and eventually children. The good news is that He can receive glory from the growth steps we take as His ever-developing creation. When faced with the sobering reality that we're watched models seven days a week, parents can either fold-up or step-up. I would imagine that most parents are interested in stepping up. One's heartfelt interest is quite different than translating desire into action, though.

My children have taught me, that the growth for both parent and child happens in the striving and in the realization that we cannot go it alone. I know I need others...friends' wise counsel, my wife's gentle encouragement, my childrens' kind forgiveness, and most importantly, my heavenly Abba's Spirit springing forth inside me, compelling me to change! 

I Choose Us

I try to remember to ask my girls at bedtime what their "high" moment of the day was. Last night, Eden said that she loved the new candy she received from a birthday party. "What was yours, Daddy?" she responded. Now, I had just gotten off the phone with a close buddy of mine. He and his family are in a very similar life situation as us: one teacher income and children. Our lives as D.I.N.K (Double Income No Kids) couples is over, and both my friend and I have gone through moments where we questioned the future and if we could "make it" living with the one income. Last night's conversation was one of those times.

It's easy to get discouraged when you don't have a ton of money, because in our culture we're bombarded with the message: money = security. But therein lies the problem. Salary may provide physical comforts but it really doesn't provide lasting security. Cash would buy us stuff as a family. Would my girls complain if they could see the Disney princesses every year? Would I complain if I could take the whole fam on an international trip every summer? Certainly not, and Katie could easily go back to work in a heartbeat if she wanted the bigger house more or if she needed to because I got injured and couldn't work, but in those moments when I question, "What did we get ourselves into? Are we going to make it?" I remember the treasure we get as a family by giving up a double income: time!

We've decided as a family that time on the clock of life is our most precious commodity. I wouldn't trade another income for the sound of running feet and, "Daddy, you're home!" I wouldn't trade an engorged bank account for the joy I get in knowing that my children are receiving the best care in the world because it's their mother who's giving it! Sure, I'd love a bigger house for our growing family, but not at the cost of Katie giving up her desire to be at home with her little ones.

We recognize that our goal in this season of our lives is not the same as everyone else's, and I'm not saying it's better. Just...us. We also understand that it may not always be this way. We realize that with time and experience comes opportunities to make more. In the meantime, though, my kids have taught me to take pleasure in the simple things.

My high of the day yesterday was the joy I felt after that phone conversation with my buddy, because it brought me back to the decision Katie and I made to sacrifice and invest the time in our family. Nicholas Cage sums it up best in The Family Man, "I've seen what we can be together, and I choose us."

Who Will Remember Me?

I recently walked through an art exhibit where the focus was on the reality of life and aging. The walls were littered with photographs of...well, old people. At first I thought this was an unusual choice and questioned who would want to come and see pictures of graying, wrinkled-by-life individuals. What I later realized was that the author was offering a different perspective, another lens in which to look at one's life, not just life in general.

For thirty-somethings like myself, individuals arguably in the "prime" of their lives (although, I'm not sure my body would agree with that statement after I've given my kids several "bucking bronco" rides on my knee), it's not often that we think of the latter half of life. On the contrary, I often feel making it through each day is a cause for celebration. I'm in the now because the now is screaming in my ear. Sometimes literally. Three month olds are often known for their lung power. But I need to think with the end in mind. It's healthy. Jesus said, "The Kingdom of God is here; it's now," but in order to fully appreciate this idea I need to understand what my life is for. I need to see the end. Where am I going with all of this?

My kids are a constant reminder for me of why I'm here. Granted, I'm not one of those parents that believes that the sun revolves around my offspring, but I am a strong believer that God placed them in my life for a purpose, a powerful one at that. And that it takes an investment of everything I am, my life, to foster each of their individual purposes. The art exhibit brought this truth into clear focus for me. When I'm old and gray, when time's ticking arm has slowly worn away at the corner of my eyes, I want someone to remember me, remember what I stood for, remember that God was the most important piece of my life and that hopefully when they look back over my days they see His handiwork. Who better to remember than my children?

I think we all want to be appreciated, but my kids caused me to question: Do I want to be remembered and what do I want to be remembered for?

Slinkies in Heaven

My oldest, Eden, is always busting out great one-liners. The other night at bedtime we were talking about heaven (one of the topics she likes to discuss). She's very curious how one gets to heaven, who lives there, and if she'll be able to go one day, as if it was a vacation spot.

She asked me, "Is Jesus up in heaven?"
"Yes, I think he is. And actually he said he was getting a house ready for us for when we arrive."
"Really, Daddy. What kind of house?"
"A big one. It's called a mansion and it has stairs."
"YES! I get to use my slinky! Daddy, that means so much to me that Jesus wants me to use my slinky in heaven."

This really made an impact on me. Eden taught me that I should never stop dreaming. The fact that she immediately thought about how much Jesus cares about her made me pause and think about what he might have in store for me in heaven. What do I love to do?

So, here's my "slinky" list:

1. A full basketball court with breakaway rims, because you know of course in heaven I can dunk! I like to think that Manu Ginobili will be there as well and we can team-up together for some two-on-two.

2. A motorcycle. I'll never get to ride one here on earth. Too much negative family history involving motorcycles, but in heaven there's no risk of dying, so bring it on. It'll be nice to not have to wear a helmet. Is there wind in heaven?

I'll probably be adding more as time goes on. What's on your list?

A Labor of Love

I love to "knock stuff out"! I'm not referring to going Muhammad Ali on someone. I love to get stuff done, even if it requires ignoring everything else. I guess I'm a stereotypical "guy" in that sense. My knock-it-out tendency came out big time while I built my kids a backyard play fort a couple of weeks ago. I did eventually finish it, but much patience was required and interruptions, of course...lots of interruptions to clean boo boos, get water, get Dora Band-Aids for boo boos, potty breaks, diaper changes, feedings, and snuggles after Dora Band Aids for boo boos were applied. Whew. My kids taught me/reminded me that nothing great was ever built in a day, and in my case, 7 days and still counting (I'm still putting on the final "touches").

I had to continually remind myself, particularly when I was feeling exasperated from being interrupted for the millionth time, who I was building the fort for. Was it for me? To satisfy my own personal carpentry goal? Or was the purpose to gratify the desires of my kids' hearts and to provide some moments of peace for their mother? Oh, yeah, that's right...it was about them!

Now, rather than climb on our furniture and hang on our house's door handles, my little squirrels get to climb and play to their hearts' content on this...

 

Granted, I had a blast busting out the power tools and going Jesus on this thing, even if my hand looked a little beat up 150+ screws later...

Although, I'm not sure if Jesus had access to a Ryobi hand saw. Nevertheless, every time my daughters broke my concentration and needed something or when Eden wanted to be my "special helper" or when Avery wanted to pretend to hammer something, it brought me back to what the heart of this project was all about: connecting and bonding with my kids and blessing them with an experience with their daddy that hopefully they will never forget.

Love is a Verb

As the parent of a new born and two toddlers under the age of four, it feels as though it is all hands on deck 24-7. Even when I am sleeping, I am on call. For me, lack of sleep equals edginess. Some people are amazing at keeping their cool when they lack rest. Not me. I struggle with patience even when I have a solid 7-8 hours of rest, let alone 4-5.

Yesterday Eden and I began building a play set for the backyard, and at one point she decided to grab a 3' 2x4 and swing it above her sister's head. Needless to say, I freaked a bit when I saw that, especially since, at that moment, I couldn't physically redirect her because I was holding one of the 8' walls of the play set. She wasn't heeding my original instructions in that moment and someone could have been seriously hurt. My edginess intensifies if my oldest is being overly obstinate (which she tends to be quite often). I was surprised, because in the midst of reaching for the "panic button", I calmly told her to put the blunt object down, far away from her sister's beautiful face.
I am excited about building this play set with my daughter, but am reminded that it's going to take a lot more patience today as we continue together. There's part of me that wants to go it alone. It's easier. I don't have to wait five minutes for her to reach into her pouch and pull out a screw or display patience as the conversation plays out:

Daddy: "Ok, big assistant, grab the metal bracket over there (nodding with my head toward a variety of hardware and tools strewn on the ground nearby because I'm holding the heavy wall).

Eden: Where?

Daddy: There.

Eden: Here (holding up the pencil).

Daddy: Eden, that's a pencil. You know that. The metal bracket is to the left... No, the other way... Go up... Now over...

Eden: As she hands it to me, "Daddy, what is metal?"

Patience is a process. I keep telling myself that I can do this. I feel like Nicholas Cage's character in The Family Man, "You ran with the bulls in Pamplona. You jumped out of an airplane over the Mojave desert. You can do this!"

Paul the Apostle reminds me of what love is...it is kind, gentle, selfless, and more than that, it is patient. If asked, most parents would not hesitate to say that they dearly love their kids, but I wonder if many of the same parents would admit to lacking patience. So, if I love my children so much why do I struggle with patience? Isn't patience supposed to be a fruit of my love? And then it dawned on me...Paul's not referring to the ushy-gushy, feel-good tingly love. He's referring to agape (Greek translation) love...the love of action, the verb version of love.

My children have taught me what it means to live out my love for others on a daily basis. Though I stumble, though I fall, I will never stop striving to patiently walk with my kids.

The Lion in Spring

Ari Nathaniel is my name
Pooping, eating, and sleeping is my game
I arrived on a lazy Sunday afternoon in a hurry

Thanks to me, my parents' sight is still a little blurry
I was born April 29, 2012 at 4:01 PM
The nurse thought I was so pretty, how could I be a "him"?
For cameras I do quite a bit of posing

I weigh in at 6.8 lbs, but that’s without my clothing!

It comforts my mom and dad to know friends and family care

And for keeping all 5 of us in their prayers...

My Kids Call G-d "Daddy"

Orthodox Jews leave off the "o" in G-d when they spell His name in English because they consider His name so holy that you cannot even spell it. How do I know this and what does it have to do with my kids? Well, besides the fact that I have some Jewish friends, I also teach World Geography at a public middle school. We just finished a unit on the Big 3 religions in Jerusalem, comparing Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Teaching about what different monotheistic religions call G-d got me thinking about what my own children call Him.

Ever since she could pray, Eden's called G-d Abba (Hebrew for "father") . This is cool on multiple levels. First, she came up with the name on her own. Katie and I never called G-d Abba before Eden started. Second, where did she get it from? We've always talked with our kids about the belief that G-d resides in the hearts of those who invite Him to be there. I guess something clicked in her heart one day and she connected with her Abba in a special way and started calling Him her Daddy. Finally, the fact that she started calling G-d the same name Jesus used for Him while on Earth is just plain awesome.

Whether it's God, G-d, Adonai, Yahweh, Allah, Elohim, Jesus, or even Abba, Eden has taught me that what a person calls the one true Diety is less important than the way they connect with Him in their heart and how well they live out the tenets of faith.

Asking for Forgiveness

Any parent who's actually parented will tell you that there are those days of dealing with your children when you feel like the situation brings out the worst in you as a person. Afterwards you sit back and ask yourself, "Did I just say that to my child? Did I just react that way?" It's easy in those situations to feel shame about a poor choice. It's tempting to ignore the feeling, try to sweep it under the rug, and in the end remind yourself that you're human and that you make mistakes as a parent. Although I do feel that recognizing the areas we wrong our children are important, it is even more important to humble ourselves as parents and seek our child's forgiveness when we do wrong them.

My children have taught me that there is never a bad time to seek their forgiveness for a mistake I made as a parent. I did this the other day with Eden. She was giving me major attitude on her way to time out. I erupted inside. My irritation with her bodacious audacity had me floored. I didn't feel it at first. I just reacted. I should have stopped and waited. Usually when I do this I can think more clearly, move past the initial reaction, and make a better decision after consulting with Katie, but I didn't this time. Why? Well, my pride was hit. How dare she talk back to me, even if she was being obedient and marching her little tush to time out! I am her father and I deserve her respect! I still believe I was right in thinking that last line, but I went about reacting to it in the wrong way. Eden didn't get the best of her father that day. She got the worst because I missed an opportunity to shepherd the heart of the treasure God entrusted to me.

Times of childish disobedience are ripe with the opportunity to teach our children about vital life-principles like truth, love, kindness, and forgiveness. It is hard to do this when we're consumed with ourselves and in the process of our anger and pride, we can easily cause our children to become angry with us. As St. Paul wrote, triggering your child's wrath is not the wisest choice: "Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord" (Ephesians 6:4). When I let pride derail me it switches the tracks of my spirit and then I start heading toward anger.

Eden said she forgave me and those sweet words were like a salve to my spirit! I believe going through the process God has taught me something and that the next time that a situation like that arises I won't be so quick to "pull the trigger" on my pride. As we always say to Eden, "Asking forgiveness means you'll work your hardest to not repeat your actions the next time." God help me!

My Son the Little Mermaid!?!

My son is still 6 weeks away from making his grand appearance (Well, hopefully. Katie's been having major Braxton Hicks--that's pre-labor contractions for all the obstetrically-unaware out there.) and he's already teaching me important lessons.

Most parents are big on the naming process. We've never fought about names like some parents-to-be. We've been fortunate in that sense. Katie and I really enjoyed coming up with Eden and Avery's names, and we're pretty big on meanings. Our children are an extension of us. As parents, we feel it's vital that their names carry a spiritual significance beyond a few letters strung together.

We loved that Eden Rene's name meant "paradise reborn". Avery Kate was a bit trickier. Depending on what link you click off of Google's search you could get "pure wisdom" or more commonly "elf ruler". We like the former more than the latter. Although, if we're honest, the latter is kinda cool, too, especially when she prances around the house, donning crown and wand (sometimes a stick--whatever works).

We love the name Ari'el for our son. I know what you're thinking, "This dude's gonna name his son after the Little Mermaid!? His boy will be scarred for life." Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, too, over a bed of Sebastian's, "Under the Sea". The more Katie and I think about it, though, the more we'd like that to be his name, regardless of the stereotype.

Ari'el is spelled the same as Disney's underwater princess but the pronunciation is different. Other than the über-protective, Jamaican-accented red crab, characters in the movie pronounce Ariel with a long "a" sound (air-e-l). Ari'el is pronounced with the "r" sound (r-e-l). There's also a bit of a pause at the apostrophe. Ari--el. In Hebrew El means "God" and Ari means "lion". I love the power in my son's name. Regardless of all the rationale we've come up with, his name reflects a background we believe Ari will come to represent; it feels right to both of us.

What's more important in the long run? Ari's 3rd grade teacher mispronouncing his name and the class having a bit of laugh or Ari forever seeing his full name written and hopefully taking pride in the meaning?  Besides, in 10 years "The Little Mermaid" may be so outdated no one will even remember the characters. Oh, wait, I forgot about remakes.

Just Dance

I've loved to dance ever since I was kid. The Michael Jackson concert-for-one memory is probably fonder for me than my mom. Now, I'm not the personality type that will start a circle at a party and show off any moves, but I love to dance with my wife at weddings or when Damien Rice finds a way to sneak his way out of our home's speakers. Lately, though, Damien and Norah Jones have been replaced by Tchaikovsky, and Eden and Avery have stolen the dance floor.

Eden was bitten by the ballet bug this past Christmas. Avery followed her big sis and now both are smitten. Sure, they were dancing before. Bob Marley and Two Door Cinema Club were favs, and we'll still throw on some hip-hop mixes every now and then, but this is different. Their passion for dance has skyrocketed to a whole other level thanks to our Russian comrade.

I'm not sure how much Swan Lake my earlobes can handle, but does it really matter? My kids' hearts (and bodies for that matter) are fired up about something wholesome, healthy, and rewarding.  When I watch their little arms flail wildly or their short, skinny legs attempt a running air splits, my own heart soars and my soul rejoices. I've asked myself before, Why is dance so fulfilling--whether I'm watching my kids or even participating with them (Yes, I'll often play the part of Baryshnikov, but I don't do tights)? I think dance frees the soul from worldly inhibitions, the things kids could care less about. The worries about bills or health issues seem to lift like newly-inflated balloons. Cares of the world are drowned by the noise of laughter.

I think David, Israel's second king, understood this when he wrote his Psalms to the Lord. Music and dance were his refuge. Movement helped him to connect to God. It was his companion during those lonely years hiding from Saul in caves, fleeing for his life. And I'm sure dance stayed with him until his death as he continued to strive to please the heart of his God.

My kids remind me of this connection between dance and God every time their tiny toes hit the floor. I'm so thankful for their gift to me--the lesson that whenever I'm tired, frustrated, or filled with worry, all I have to do is ask them to dance.

Reckless Trust

Warmer days are approaching quickly and with them come sun-drenched afternoons lounging at the pool, except that I don't do as much "lounging" these days as I used to. Most of my poolside time is spent monitoring. Gone are the days of diving for dimes or napping on my floating island. Now I get a workout just tracking down my kids. Come April I'll have one more to keep tabs on. As a friend and fellow-father of three often says, "When we had three my wife and I had to switch from man-to-man to zone defense."

It's a bit easier now with Eden knowing how to swim, but Avery on the other hand...she has no concept of what it means to drown, so that makes watching her all the more difficult. The girl's been holding her breath underwater naturally since she was a baby. Only problem is she still sinks like a stone. You may be asking yourself, "How does he know that his child can hold her breath 'naturally'"?

As long as she could walk, Avery's had reckless trust. What I mean is that Avery has no fear. Perhaps it's because she is oblivious, but I think it's more than that. Avery is a carefree type of kid. Parents who have more than one child will know what I mean when I say there is a huge difference between the cautious, worry-wart type kid and a "the-world-is-a-bull-and-I'm-going-to-grab-it-by-the-horns" type of kid. This type of kid is so much fun to be around because they bring a great deal of joy and laughter into your life. The only problem with the "horn-grabbers" is that they easily get impaled if you're not vigilant.

Thus is the case with Avery and the pool. She'll just walk right off the ledge, not skipping a beat, and simply expect daddy to somehow transport 15 feet in a blink of an eye to scoop her up and give her more of that much-needed, life-giving element called "air". I'd pull her up expecting a choking infant, but instead was met by a smile stretched from ear to ear. If she could have talked, she probably would have said, "Can we do that again?" Instead, she simply just kept on doing it over and over again, and it used to baffle my mind. Now I simply admire her reckless trust.

I have a beautifully-staged photo of Italian actors portraying a scene of Jesus laughing at a man who looks to be hoarding his food. The man's face is stained with worry and fear. Jesus is belly-laughing because the man doesn't get it. The man's lost his sense of reckless trust. Every time I see that photo hanging in my kitchen I'm reminded that I should be like Avery: recklessly trusting and joyfully abandoned to my Heavenly Father's invitation--trust in Me; trust in My Spirit.

With a Servant's Heart

Dinners in my house are typically an event unto themselves. We gather around the table, share about our days, and talk about anything that pops up in our minds. As we were sitting together the other night, eating some of my wife's delicious food, my 3 year old, Eden, says, "Daddy, I'm going to cut this chicken with a servant's heart, ok!" She wasn't really asking me for permission. She was informing me of her intentions. Her comment not only made me smile, it also made me pause to consider--What else can one do with a servant's heart? Are there other "menial" tasks that have been overlooked? How about taking out the trash, doing the laundry, washing the car, filling up a tank of gas, tying shoes, etc.? The list could go on.

My daughter taught me that a person doesn't just have a servant's heart at the moment he or she serves another human being. That same person can carry that heart with him or her wherever they go and when the opportunity arises to serve, it happens naturally because that person is a servant deep down. I read a line by Tedd Tripp the other day that fits here, "We are human beings directed by the orientation of our hearts." What a wonderful thought. Maybe that is what Jesus meant when he said, "Walk in my footsteps." Perhaps he was challenging us in the same way Eden challenged me--live life each day with a servant's heart no matter what you do.