Have you ever struggled with being bitter? I have. I think most of us have. I think it starts out with being hurt, but then it escalates. There's a difference between hurting and being bitter. I'm not sure there's an exact line you can draw and say, "if it's been ____ days/weeks/months/years, you're just being bitter," but I am sure that bitterness is obvious. It may not be obvious to the bitter person, but it has a way of revealing itself to the rest of us. I have gone through being bitter, only to have someone who cares enough about me to tell me I needed to shape up.
My bitterness started with legitimate hurting. I had been hurt by something that I cared a great deal for and had placed an enormous amount of faith in: the church. It sucked. Pastors don't go into ministry expecting to get chewed up and spit out. Professors do tell you that most people that go into ministry do not last, but they make it sound like its entirely the fault of the weak individual who falls out of ministry. They forget to tell you that there are probably people who "have made it" in ministry only to step all over the young pastors.
Coming out of a place of hurt, I actually found it therapeutic to read some blogs and follow some twitter accounts that reflected how I felt. These guys had been through what I had been through, to varying extents, and I identified with their pain. I guess it comforted me to know that I wasn't the only one that had been there. I can't say that it was overly helpful, though. Time passed, and I continued reading their posts and tweets, and I began to notice something. Every time I read something, it would put me back in the negative place I had been before. I would feel like the wound was fresh, the anger was justified, and I would stew over it for a while.
I made the decision to stop reading certain blogs, following certain tweeters, and I unsubscribed from some people's Facebook feeds. I cannot get myself to delete most people from Facebook. I would feel too guilty. I think I've only ever unfriended two people ever, but they were definitely not friends, and they went out of their way to show it. Anyway, I cut off ties to negative people. I stopped feeding that part of my flesh. And you know what? I missed it at first. I would think about going to blogs just to see what was going on, but I would stop myself. As time went by, I stopped missing it. I don't like being upset, anymore.
Who in your life is causing you to always think negatively? Who in your life is causing you to sin in your mind? Are you in a position that you could lovingly tell them to shape up, as one of my mentors did for me? If not, maybe it's time, as the new year rolls in, to stop listening to that person. Stop reading their material. Start focusing on those things that build you up, draw you closer to God, and make you a better person.
Philippians 4:8, "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
his first "I love you"
Jakob doesn't say much. He is not like his dad. His pediatrician suggested we have him checked just to make sure there were no looming issues causing his delayed speech, which was a nice way to make us worry over nothing for two months while we waited for him to be seen. Turns out he is very smart, just as we suspected, and he just doesn't talk, because he doesn't want to and doesn't need to. All that being said, he just doesn't have the expansive vocabulary of some kids his age.
One thing we've been dying for him to say is, "I love you." He's known it was a good phrase since he was just a little baby. I have a picture of him in my office - taken by Sunshine & Daisies Photography - with him smiling in response to my saying, "I love you," to him. He wouldn't smile for the photographer, so I leaned over him, made eye contact, and I told him that I loved him. His face lit up. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was a positive phrase he had heard 100 times a day for the two and a half months he'd been around. We figured that we had said it so much that it would have been one of his very first things to say. It wasn't.
On Tuesday, I asked Jakob who my buddy was. He pointed to himself. I asked him who his buddy was. He pointed to me and said, "buddy!" Then he kept saying buddy over and over. This is a common "game" we play. I thought maybe he was in a talkative mood, so I would try to teach him to say, "love." It was better than nothing. So I asked him, "Jakob, who does Daddy love?" He said, "Mommy!" What a smart boy. I agreed that I did love his mommy, but then I asked again, "But who else does Daddy love?" He pointed at himself and said, "love!" I asked him who he loved, and he pointed at me, touching my chest with his finger, and he yelled, "love!" It was his first "I love you," but it is something that has been repeated non-stop all week by Sarah and me.
One thing we've been dying for him to say is, "I love you." He's known it was a good phrase since he was just a little baby. I have a picture of him in my office - taken by Sunshine & Daisies Photography - with him smiling in response to my saying, "I love you," to him. He wouldn't smile for the photographer, so I leaned over him, made eye contact, and I told him that I loved him. His face lit up. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was a positive phrase he had heard 100 times a day for the two and a half months he'd been around. We figured that we had said it so much that it would have been one of his very first things to say. It wasn't.
On Tuesday, I asked Jakob who my buddy was. He pointed to himself. I asked him who his buddy was. He pointed to me and said, "buddy!" Then he kept saying buddy over and over. This is a common "game" we play. I thought maybe he was in a talkative mood, so I would try to teach him to say, "love." It was better than nothing. So I asked him, "Jakob, who does Daddy love?" He said, "Mommy!" What a smart boy. I agreed that I did love his mommy, but then I asked again, "But who else does Daddy love?" He pointed at himself and said, "love!" I asked him who he loved, and he pointed at me, touching my chest with his finger, and he yelled, "love!" It was his first "I love you," but it is something that has been repeated non-stop all week by Sarah and me.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
my top 5 fondest Christmas memories
Going the same places every year, listening to the same Manheim Steamroller tape the whole way, being around the same people can cause a lot of Christmases to blend together. Many of mine do. But there are some special memories that stand out through the years, and after giving it minutes of thought, I have compiled my top five Christmas memories. I will go in reverse order.
5. Receiving my first pairs of boxer shorts in 6th grade. Yes, that was a biggie and worthy of top 5 placement. I knew from gym class that I was about the only boy in 6th grade without them, and I did get picked on. So I asked for some for Christmas, and I got a black with white polkadot pair and a white/black/purple/green striped pair. See how they stand out in my mind? I remember being excited to get to the locker room, so everyone could see how cool I was. I also remember realizing before I got to gym class that this was the weirdest thing ever, and I probably shouldn't be excited about people seeing my undies.
4. Getting a teal scooter for my first grade Christmas. Scooters were so cool back then. They weren't little razor thin scooters with sleek tires. They had mountain bike thick tires. I was so pumped to ride it, but it was winter in Detroit, so I had to ride it for several months around the basement. I would pretend to do tricks, but really, I just pulled up on the handle bars, lifting only the front tire for a moment, and then went back down again. But the sound effects made it seem more extreme.
3. Seeing my entire family for Christmas in 2006. It had been a while since I had seen everyone - we were living in Florida, Dan was living in Texas, and I think Steve was in Seattle then, but I'm not sure - so finally getting to see all of my siblings, nieces and nephews was great. It was another 5 years before everyone was in town all at the same time again. It's hard with family spread out in various states.
2. Our first Christmas with Jakob. Here's his first time hearing the Christmas story.
http://vimeo.com/8430327
1. The day Sarah allegedly said, "yes." I asked her to marry me on Christmas day in 2000, and she says she said it, but I never heard it. We're still disputing over that, but since we are married, it's a fairly inconsequential battle.
5. Receiving my first pairs of boxer shorts in 6th grade. Yes, that was a biggie and worthy of top 5 placement. I knew from gym class that I was about the only boy in 6th grade without them, and I did get picked on. So I asked for some for Christmas, and I got a black with white polkadot pair and a white/black/purple/green striped pair. See how they stand out in my mind? I remember being excited to get to the locker room, so everyone could see how cool I was. I also remember realizing before I got to gym class that this was the weirdest thing ever, and I probably shouldn't be excited about people seeing my undies.
4. Getting a teal scooter for my first grade Christmas. Scooters were so cool back then. They weren't little razor thin scooters with sleek tires. They had mountain bike thick tires. I was so pumped to ride it, but it was winter in Detroit, so I had to ride it for several months around the basement. I would pretend to do tricks, but really, I just pulled up on the handle bars, lifting only the front tire for a moment, and then went back down again. But the sound effects made it seem more extreme.
3. Seeing my entire family for Christmas in 2006. It had been a while since I had seen everyone - we were living in Florida, Dan was living in Texas, and I think Steve was in Seattle then, but I'm not sure - so finally getting to see all of my siblings, nieces and nephews was great. It was another 5 years before everyone was in town all at the same time again. It's hard with family spread out in various states.
2. Our first Christmas with Jakob. Here's his first time hearing the Christmas story.
http://vimeo.com/8430327
1. The day Sarah allegedly said, "yes." I asked her to marry me on Christmas day in 2000, and she says she said it, but I never heard it. We're still disputing over that, but since we are married, it's a fairly inconsequential battle.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Christmas time with the Selphs
Christmas is obviously a special time in our family, as it surely is in pretty much every Christian family. Celebrating the birth of our Savior is an opportunity to reflect on God's grace toward us, but I worry that it is an opportunity that isn't taken full advantage of. I know we have been guilty in the past of merely reading the Christmas story in Luke quickly, so we could get to our presents.
Our Christmas program touched on this a little. All of the noise around Christmas - the shopping, the food, seeing family, traveling, etc. - can and does tend to drown out the primary reason. We celebrate Christmas because Jesus came here to die for us. We give gifts, celebrate with family, and have parties to commemorate this fact. It is not something that should be thrown in as an aside. It is the main course of our celebration, and we shouldn't negligently relegate it to side dish status.
We have a tradition in our home, carried on from the tradition in my home growing up. For us, we get up Christmas morning, and before we eat breakfast or open a single present, we read the Christmas story together. For now, we read it from Jakob's Jesus Storybook Bible. We also take time between Thanksgiving and Christmas to give something up that we are thankful for, just as Christ gave up everything to come here. Sometimes that's hard. Sometimes we slip a little. But the point is focusing on being grateful.
What can you do to amplify your gratefulness and your focus on Jesus coming here to die for you?
Our Christmas program touched on this a little. All of the noise around Christmas - the shopping, the food, seeing family, traveling, etc. - can and does tend to drown out the primary reason. We celebrate Christmas because Jesus came here to die for us. We give gifts, celebrate with family, and have parties to commemorate this fact. It is not something that should be thrown in as an aside. It is the main course of our celebration, and we shouldn't negligently relegate it to side dish status.
We have a tradition in our home, carried on from the tradition in my home growing up. For us, we get up Christmas morning, and before we eat breakfast or open a single present, we read the Christmas story together. For now, we read it from Jakob's Jesus Storybook Bible. We also take time between Thanksgiving and Christmas to give something up that we are thankful for, just as Christ gave up everything to come here. Sometimes that's hard. Sometimes we slip a little. But the point is focusing on being grateful.
What can you do to amplify your gratefulness and your focus on Jesus coming here to die for you?
Monday, November 21, 2011
the day they took my flag
You don't have to spend much time in SEC country to know that Southerners are passionate about college football. If you wear anything with a logo from a team outside the conference, they will swiftly heckle you and remind you that the SEC is the best conference (which it clearly is). Their team could have four wins the entire season, but somehow, their team is better than yours, because "if they played in the Big 10, they would be undefeated." I heard it all the time in my four years in Florida.
The most extreme time for any outsider fan is when your team is slotted to play the local favorite in a bowl game. You will hear for a solid month about how bad your team is and how badly they will perform. When Michigan was scheduled to play Florida in the 2008 Outback Bowl, things got started quickly. My boss quickly pointed out that Michigan had never even beaten an SEC team, which was inaccurate. He demanded an example, so I pointed to the last time they had played Florida in a bowl game. Michigan won. That didn't stifle it, though. I was a youth pastor, and I was subjected to cracks about Michigan every Sunday morning and evening service leading up to the game. Many of those jokes came from behind the pulpit, whether during a sermon or announcements. I'm slightly surprised the music pastor didn't get involved by making the choir sing THIS SONG. (<-- warning: this song is offensive to people who don't like "the D word" or love the state of Michigan).
The day finally came, and Michigan did beat Florida. I was one happy youth pastor. I wore a different Michigan shirt every day that week, and I moved my Michigan flag from my wall to hanging over my office door. This was a brilliant move, because everybody who visited our school would see it, and most people that came to church would see it. But then I showed up on the Sunday morning immediately following the game, and my flag was gone. It had been taken by my boss. I was replaced on the morning duty sheet by someone else giving announcements. I approached my boss and asked what the big deal was. His answer? "You just can't talk about football during church. It doesn't lend to worship. And we know you'll say something." What? I had been to 8 straight church services where college football had been mentioned. It seemed okay when they were doing it, but it was no longer okay when it was my turn. They took my flag, and they took my voice.
And to say that I couldn't behave myself and not mention the game while giving announcements? That's crazy. Our pastor was sick, and I had to take over duties that same Sunday night, and I didn't say one word about the game from the stage. I did, however, rope a teenager into playing a CD I had given him as I was walking up on stage. I just let "Hail to the Victors" play out while I stood on stage and smiled. But I didn't say one word, because that wouldn't have been conducive to worship.
The most extreme time for any outsider fan is when your team is slotted to play the local favorite in a bowl game. You will hear for a solid month about how bad your team is and how badly they will perform. When Michigan was scheduled to play Florida in the 2008 Outback Bowl, things got started quickly. My boss quickly pointed out that Michigan had never even beaten an SEC team, which was inaccurate. He demanded an example, so I pointed to the last time they had played Florida in a bowl game. Michigan won. That didn't stifle it, though. I was a youth pastor, and I was subjected to cracks about Michigan every Sunday morning and evening service leading up to the game. Many of those jokes came from behind the pulpit, whether during a sermon or announcements. I'm slightly surprised the music pastor didn't get involved by making the choir sing THIS SONG. (<-- warning: this song is offensive to people who don't like "the D word" or love the state of Michigan).
The day finally came, and Michigan did beat Florida. I was one happy youth pastor. I wore a different Michigan shirt every day that week, and I moved my Michigan flag from my wall to hanging over my office door. This was a brilliant move, because everybody who visited our school would see it, and most people that came to church would see it. But then I showed up on the Sunday morning immediately following the game, and my flag was gone. It had been taken by my boss. I was replaced on the morning duty sheet by someone else giving announcements. I approached my boss and asked what the big deal was. His answer? "You just can't talk about football during church. It doesn't lend to worship. And we know you'll say something." What? I had been to 8 straight church services where college football had been mentioned. It seemed okay when they were doing it, but it was no longer okay when it was my turn. They took my flag, and they took my voice.
And to say that I couldn't behave myself and not mention the game while giving announcements? That's crazy. Our pastor was sick, and I had to take over duties that same Sunday night, and I didn't say one word about the game from the stage. I did, however, rope a teenager into playing a CD I had given him as I was walking up on stage. I just let "Hail to the Victors" play out while I stood on stage and smiled. But I didn't say one word, because that wouldn't have been conducive to worship.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
who are you imitating?
Here's moment of honesty for you: I do not get excited at the prospect of reading most Christian books. I don't care if it was written by a famous author, or if everyone is reading it. I just don't get too thrilled about it. I generally read my Bible, my textbooks, and fiction novels. I only enjoy two of those three. But I am excited about a book I recently picked up, because it is right up my alley. It is about something that I am already trying to accomplish. It's called, Legacy Path, and it's about raising your kids to follow God by following the example you set for them.
It is my goal that Jakob could be just like me and be incredibly close to being like Jesus. I want to live a life that is pleasing to God. I want to be constantly moving in His direction, growing more and more like Him as the days go by. Why? Well, I used to want to live out my Christian life to impress my parents and people at church. As I grew, my priorities began shifting. I started to seek out God for my own good. I wanted to please God, and when I felt I that I was accomplishing that, it gave me a sense of worth. But lately, my priorities have shifted again. I still want to please God. That's still my primary motivation. It is a desire in my own heart, and I do feel a sense of worth when I feel like I'm accomplishing that, but it is no longer my only motivation. I also want to live a life pleasing to God, so that Jakob will learn from me how that's done.
As Jakob grows and wrestles with his faith and how to live a proper life, I want to be able to repeatedly give him the same advice. No matter where he's at, I want to be able to listen to his questions, look him in the eye, and say, "Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ." Do I think I can say that right now? Not in every area, no. Is it feasible to get there? I think so. Paul got there. That isn't a quote original to me. It's actually a direct quote of 1 Corinthians 11:1.
So here's my question to you: if your kids imitate you, are they also imitating Christ? If not, who are you teaching them to imitate?
It is my goal that Jakob could be just like me and be incredibly close to being like Jesus. I want to live a life that is pleasing to God. I want to be constantly moving in His direction, growing more and more like Him as the days go by. Why? Well, I used to want to live out my Christian life to impress my parents and people at church. As I grew, my priorities began shifting. I started to seek out God for my own good. I wanted to please God, and when I felt I that I was accomplishing that, it gave me a sense of worth. But lately, my priorities have shifted again. I still want to please God. That's still my primary motivation. It is a desire in my own heart, and I do feel a sense of worth when I feel like I'm accomplishing that, but it is no longer my only motivation. I also want to live a life pleasing to God, so that Jakob will learn from me how that's done.
As Jakob grows and wrestles with his faith and how to live a proper life, I want to be able to repeatedly give him the same advice. No matter where he's at, I want to be able to listen to his questions, look him in the eye, and say, "Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ." Do I think I can say that right now? Not in every area, no. Is it feasible to get there? I think so. Paul got there. That isn't a quote original to me. It's actually a direct quote of 1 Corinthians 11:1.
So here's my question to you: if your kids imitate you, are they also imitating Christ? If not, who are you teaching them to imitate?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I don't put things together
The above picture is a picture of me pretending to put together Jakob's bed. From the looks of things, had I been working on it, I would have put the hammer right through the part of the frame. I don't usually participate in the putting together of things with "some assembly required." It's not that I can't put together a toddler bed, an entertainment center, or whatever. I can. I just move very slowly and get frustrated fairly easily.
Sarah, on the other hand, loves putting things together, and she likes showing off that she can do so without instructions. It started when she was in her wheelchair. We got a new TV, so we got a new entertainment center to put it on. She mentioned that she wished she could put the entertainment center together, so I told her to go ahead. She wasn't feeling the most handicapable at that time, so she wasn't confident she could do it. I helped down onto the floor, though, and I encouraged her. She sat there, and I handed her piece by piece as she assembled it. From then on, she became the one to put stuff together, unless it was too huge and needed my burly muscles. I have no idea why she enjoys it, but she does, and I'm content to let her do it.
This is what things being put together at our home really looks like.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
he took care of me
Sarah is a stay at home mom, so she definitely gets to see sides of Jakob that I miss out on when I'm at work. I had heard tales of his being a really sweet caregiver type, but I'd never seen it. What I tend to see is my playful son with boundless energy and the best smile I've ever seen. I walk in the door, and it's play time. He wants to run and jump and chase and harass our pets. It's really all quite fun to watch and experience. But Sarah has told me about how sweet he is when she doesn't feel well. If she's sick, he accommodates her.
I got to experience this last night. I just wasn't feeling well. It came out of nowhere, and it had the potential to make the end of my evening terrible. I laid down on the couch, because I wanted to try to stay up and spend time with Sarah and Jakob, even if I wasn't the most pleasant company. Jakob started out playing and jumping and smacking the couch, but I asked him to stop, because I didn't feel well. He then started bringing me toys. I thought he was continuing to try to get me to play. He brought me a drumstick, an Easter bunny noise maker, and one of his Toy Story action figures. Each time he brought me a toy, I said thank you and tossed it back into his toy pile. Finally, he brought me Jonny, his Pillow Pet. This is his most special possession, and nobody gets to play with Jonny. But he brought it to me and put it under my arm.
After a little while, I got up and went to bed. I knew I wasn't going to feel better enough to play until I got some sleep. Jakob followed me to my room. He crawled up in the bed and laid down by me. I thought he was just wanting to watch TV in there. But he didn't. He sat up, with his back up against my stomach, and he started rubbing his hand gently on my arm. He gave me a hug and said, "Aww," which he does when he knows he's being sweet. He last fifteen minutes, going between sitting by me and laying down by me. He eventually left, but he left me his Pillow Pet, which he slid under my arm again before he left.
I misjudged what he was doing twice. First, I thought he was persistently trying to get me to play, when he was just trying to bring me different things to make me feel better. Second, I thought he wanted to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the TV in our bedroom. Both times, he was just trying to take care of me. He's such an awesome boy.
I got to experience this last night. I just wasn't feeling well. It came out of nowhere, and it had the potential to make the end of my evening terrible. I laid down on the couch, because I wanted to try to stay up and spend time with Sarah and Jakob, even if I wasn't the most pleasant company. Jakob started out playing and jumping and smacking the couch, but I asked him to stop, because I didn't feel well. He then started bringing me toys. I thought he was continuing to try to get me to play. He brought me a drumstick, an Easter bunny noise maker, and one of his Toy Story action figures. Each time he brought me a toy, I said thank you and tossed it back into his toy pile. Finally, he brought me Jonny, his Pillow Pet. This is his most special possession, and nobody gets to play with Jonny. But he brought it to me and put it under my arm.
After a little while, I got up and went to bed. I knew I wasn't going to feel better enough to play until I got some sleep. Jakob followed me to my room. He crawled up in the bed and laid down by me. I thought he was just wanting to watch TV in there. But he didn't. He sat up, with his back up against my stomach, and he started rubbing his hand gently on my arm. He gave me a hug and said, "Aww," which he does when he knows he's being sweet. He last fifteen minutes, going between sitting by me and laying down by me. He eventually left, but he left me his Pillow Pet, which he slid under my arm again before he left.
I misjudged what he was doing twice. First, I thought he was persistently trying to get me to play, when he was just trying to bring me different things to make me feel better. Second, I thought he wanted to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the TV in our bedroom. Both times, he was just trying to take care of me. He's such an awesome boy.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
identifying with Pooh
I recently watched the new Winnie the Pooh movie on DVD. I realized a couple of things. First, I really like Pooh. I should say that I really like Tigger. Pooh is okay. Second, the cast of the 100 Acre Woods reminded me of Facebook. Each of the characters reminded me of a different type of chronic status updater. I will reveal my findings/mind wanderings below, and you can see where you fit in. You might identify with more than one. I know I do. I'm a Kanga and a Tigger. That sounds weird. Just in case you were thinking about getting offended, I'm probably not making fun of you. This post has nothing to do with anyone in particular.
Owl
Owls are symbolic of wisdom, and s Owl goes around educating all of his friends. The Facebook Owl always updates with pithy statements. There are original Owls and borrowed Owls. The original Owl is a deep thinker, and they share their deeply drawn conclusions with the social masses. The borrowed owl just quotes the original Owls. C.S. Lewis is an original Owl, and several borrowed Owls quote him all day.
Christopher Robin
He likes animals. He's also a nurturer. Ever notice how much he cares about those pretend animals, especially Pooh? Facebook Christopher Robin leaves random notes of encouragement on people's walls, comments on sad statuses to offer his presence in case needed, and probably posts pictures of his pets a lot.
Kanga
Kanga's a parent. She loves her kid. I'm assuming if she had a Facebook, she would constantly post statuses and pictures of Roo all day. One of Jakob's nicknames is Roo (yes, one of...Sarah calls him many things). I'm a Kanga.
Roo
He's a little kid, for crying out loud. He just wants to play. So on Facebook, Roo is that kid with a Facebook that you know shouldn't have one. Aren't they too young to have one? And they constantly want you to send them petting zoo and aquarium gifts. Actually, Roos can come in any age when it comes to that. Sending too many (like one or more) game requests can make you a Roo.
Tigger
Tigger thinks everything he's doing is awesome. He's always excited about it, like it's the next big thing. On Facebook, he would use lots of exclamation points, use the word awesome a lot, and post often. If he were to grow up and get a job, he'd probably be a youth pastor, because we think everything we're involved in is the greatest thing ever.
Eeyore
You know Eeyore, and when you hear his name, you automatically think of someone. He's always down in the mouth. Even on his best day, there's something to get him down. And so on Facebook, Eeyore's status updates are pretty consistently downers. Everyone has at least one on their friends list.
Pooh
Pooh is obsessed with honey, and he kind of wants everyone else to provide it for him when he runs out. He is the 99%. Couldn't resist. Anyway, he's always updating about food. He talks about what food he's about to eat, what he just ate, what he wishes he had, and he always checks in whenever he's at a restaurant.
Piglet
Piglet is a bid of a scaredy cat. He's always worried about worst case scenarios. He's always terrified of the monsters that may or may not roam the 100 Acre Woods, and he does whatever he needs to stay safe. He also reposts statuses and pictures that have the ominous words. If chain statuses are true, he's safe. If he loves Jesus, he's reposting, so God doesn't mistakenly think he doesn't. 99% of you won't repost this spam about Facebook charging? Piglet is.
Rabbit
Rabbit is a funny character to me. He's always annoyed with someone (usually Tigger), and he doesn't mind sharing it. If he were online, he'd be posting statuses about how annoyed he is. He'd probably be passive aggressive about it, too. "You think you're so cool? Well, you don't matter to me. Just GTO (<-- edited for content)." Who? Who are you talking to? Come on, Rabbit!
So who are you? I'm Kanga and Tigger, like I said. I think lots of things are awesome that I'm updating about, especially when it's my son, Jakob (who goes by Roo).
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Jakob's first time trick or treating
We debated a lot about whether we wanted to take Jakob trick or treating this year. We wanted to make sure his first time going was because he would have fun, not because we wanted to get pictures of him. We decided that going with the Gallahars would be fun for him, so we went. We're so glad we did. He had a great time. Below, I'll post pictures and videos of his adventure.
Todd offered to take a family picture of us, so we both grabbed a hand. We were faking it. We didn't walk like this through the neighborhood. We can't, because as soon as he's holding two hands, Jakob swings his feet off the ground.
He loved being independent. As soon as we hit someone's driveway or lawn, he took off up to the house. By this time, you can see his confidence. He knew what he was doing. I love his swagger.
Superhero pose! He was supposed to clench his fists, but who cares? That's just plain cute.
And here the triumphant superhero has returned with his bounty. He refused to look up from his Crunch bar to smile with Sarah.
And finally, the video. After a couple houses, this became his style. Mind you, he hadn't eaten a single piece of candy to this point. This is his natural energy level.
Friday, October 28, 2011
do you dare?
How do you react when life isn't all you hope for it to be? What is your attitude? How does that affect that your actions? From where I sit, I see a lot of hurting. I have people come into my office to share their grief. Probably more likely - since I primarily work with a younger generation - my phone is constantly abuzz with texts from hurting people. People hurting in their lives, hurting for other people, frustrated, scared, defeated people. People lay out their problems on Facebook for public consumption, crying out for help (or possibly just attention in some instances). There is a lot of despair.
Jeremiah understood despair. He was called the weeping prophet. The guy was just in a funk most of the time, nut he still had the chutzpah hope in God. Lamentations was written by him shortly after the fall of Jerusalem. Being that Israel's success was closely related to their relation to God throughout the Old Testament, such a blow to the nation would have been particularly devastating for the man God called to warn them. They hadn't been listening. His life was a mess. His career was a mess. What was he to do? Hope! Read these verses:
Lamentations 3:19-26
19 The thought of my suffering and homelessness
is bitter beyond words.[a]
20 I will never forget this awful time,
as I grieve over my loss.
21 Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:
22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends![b]
His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”
25 The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
to those who search for him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the Lord.
When your life is spiraling out of control, do you dare to hope? When your job isn't as fulfilling as it used to be, or maybe you're just not good at it, do you hope? When your family lets you down, hurts you, misbehaves (for you parents), do you hope? When the economy plummets further, do you hope? I guess that depends on what you choose to remember. If you remember that despite what we did yesterday, God's love and mercies for us are fresh today, then you hope. If your hope rests in Him and not your current circumstance, then you hope. Do you dare to hope?
Jeremiah understood despair. He was called the weeping prophet. The guy was just in a funk most of the time, nut he still had the chutzpah hope in God. Lamentations was written by him shortly after the fall of Jerusalem. Being that Israel's success was closely related to their relation to God throughout the Old Testament, such a blow to the nation would have been particularly devastating for the man God called to warn them. They hadn't been listening. His life was a mess. His career was a mess. What was he to do? Hope! Read these verses:
Lamentations 3:19-26
New Living Translation (NLT)
19 The thought of my suffering and homelessness
is bitter beyond words.[a]
20 I will never forget this awful time,
as I grieve over my loss.
21 Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:
22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends![b]
His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”
25 The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
to those who search for him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the Lord.
When your life is spiraling out of control, do you dare to hope? When your job isn't as fulfilling as it used to be, or maybe you're just not good at it, do you hope? When your family lets you down, hurts you, misbehaves (for you parents), do you hope? When the economy plummets further, do you hope? I guess that depends on what you choose to remember. If you remember that despite what we did yesterday, God's love and mercies for us are fresh today, then you hope. If your hope rests in Him and not your current circumstance, then you hope. Do you dare to hope?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Pavlovian Sadness
I'm not leaving Kalamazoo Community Church. I don't want to leave. No one has suggested that I should leave. Well, maybe a couple people have, but no one in a position of authority has. And yet, I was recently very sad and felt like I was on the way out of here.
Two weeks ago, I began studying for a lesson on how to hear and recognize God's voice, and the consequences of following Him. I was sad, but I didn't know why. The next day, my office was going to be painted for me, so I began taking everything off the walls. I took down all my pictures and toys and put them in one box. I took all my books off the shelf and boxed them up, too. I didn't want paint on any of those things. The whole time I was packing things up, I had a heartache and a weird feeling in my stomach. I was even sadder, and I didn't know why.
Finally, it hit me. I had put a double whammy on my heart by putting it through two things that it associated with separation. First, the lesson I was studying for ended up being very similar to the one I taught in Florida the night I announced my resignation to my youth group. That's why I was initially sad. I couldn't place it until I was packing up my things. My heart was overwhelmed with sadness. I've packed up and left two churches before, so my response was a learned reaction. It was a Pavlovian response to things from my past. Even though I'm not leaving, my heart was tricked into believing that I was.
These things happen. I hear songs that take me back to another time and place, and the emotions are just as real in that moment as they were before. I never hear Canon in D without welling up a bit, because Sarah walked down the aisle to that. I smell the smelly smell of different smelly things, and it reminds me of specific times from my childhood, both good and bad. My heart reacts to its memories more than reality at times. Sometimes it's wonderful, and sometimes it's senseless pain.
But if there is any good to come out of my made up distress, it's that my heart reaffirmed what I already knew: I want to be here. Leaving would make me sad. I'm glad I was just teaching a lesson and having my office painted.
Two weeks ago, I began studying for a lesson on how to hear and recognize God's voice, and the consequences of following Him. I was sad, but I didn't know why. The next day, my office was going to be painted for me, so I began taking everything off the walls. I took down all my pictures and toys and put them in one box. I took all my books off the shelf and boxed them up, too. I didn't want paint on any of those things. The whole time I was packing things up, I had a heartache and a weird feeling in my stomach. I was even sadder, and I didn't know why.
Finally, it hit me. I had put a double whammy on my heart by putting it through two things that it associated with separation. First, the lesson I was studying for ended up being very similar to the one I taught in Florida the night I announced my resignation to my youth group. That's why I was initially sad. I couldn't place it until I was packing up my things. My heart was overwhelmed with sadness. I've packed up and left two churches before, so my response was a learned reaction. It was a Pavlovian response to things from my past. Even though I'm not leaving, my heart was tricked into believing that I was.
These things happen. I hear songs that take me back to another time and place, and the emotions are just as real in that moment as they were before. I never hear Canon in D without welling up a bit, because Sarah walked down the aisle to that. I smell the smelly smell of different smelly things, and it reminds me of specific times from my childhood, both good and bad. My heart reacts to its memories more than reality at times. Sometimes it's wonderful, and sometimes it's senseless pain.
But if there is any good to come out of my made up distress, it's that my heart reaffirmed what I already knew: I want to be here. Leaving would make me sad. I'm glad I was just teaching a lesson and having my office painted.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Christian Hipster How to (and my defense)
I showed the following video on Sunday night in youth group, and it was swiftly pointed out that I had a lot of checkmarks on the list of how to be a Christian hipster. I invite you to watch the video, and then listen as I defend myself. You cannot tell just by reading it, but I am defending myself in a whiny tone, and if you question me, I might start crying and tell on you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_uY2ynp3wM
Let's start with the list and move down from there. I'll confirm or deny having a checkmark, and if I have one, I'll defend myself.
1. Tight pants: no. Never. You should thank me. If ever I've worn tight pants, they were tight in the waist, because I was getting fatter.
2. Vnecks: I own one that is only worn as an undershirt. It's purple, though, so it does match the video. I never wear it out on its own, and I keep my chest hair to myself. Again, you're welcome.
3. Toms: Yes, I wear them. I also wear Sambas, which are clearly shown as not hipster enough in this video, and I wear the Sambas 5/7 days each week.
4. Faux hawk/Euro-mullet: Had a faux hawk, never a mullet of any sort. So you could have gotten me on this one, but now I have a shaved head thanks to the recession we are in. You just missed pinning this one on me.
5. Scarves/zip up hoodie: I own one scarf, which is only used in the winter when I will be outside for multiple hours at a time. I don't own any unnecessary scarves. And a zip up hoodie? I own one, but it's never worn over a scarf, and it's not hipster at all. It's a Michigan hoodie, and everyone knows sports hoodies aren't hipster. They're mainstream.
6. Thick-rimmed glasses (non-prescription): there's nothing cool about wearing glasses, people. I wear them because I'm almost blind in one eye. I can't distinguish between a man and a woman from 15 feet away if I'm only using my left eye with no correction. But my glasses are thick-rimmed.
7. Hebrew tattoo: I have Hebrew tattooed on my arm, but I'm of Jewish descent. I didn't even realize that it was cool with Gentiles till I met someone with a Hebrew tattoo that wasn't a Jew. My first question: "Hey, are you Jewish?" Them: "No, why?" Me: "You have Hebrew on your arm. I just figured." Not everyone with a big nose and/or Hebrew tattooed on them is a Jew. I just thought that it meant that. But I'll take a point if you want me to. I'm not scoring too highly, though.
8. Trendy beanie: Don't own one. I wear winter hats when it's cold outside. It's a Michigan winter hat. Again, sports are mainstream, not hipstery.
9. iPhone Bible: yes, I have one of those, but I also read from a...wait for it...Bible made from paper everyday, and I almost always use a hardcopy Bible when I preach.
10. Cooler than the other side of the pillow: I just took 9 points explaining to you why I'm not cool at all. I'm not. Some people pretend to be nerds now, because being a nerd is trendy...but only if you do it intentionally. I was born nerdy, and that's not cool.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_uY2ynp3wM
Let's start with the list and move down from there. I'll confirm or deny having a checkmark, and if I have one, I'll defend myself.
1. Tight pants: no. Never. You should thank me. If ever I've worn tight pants, they were tight in the waist, because I was getting fatter.
2. Vnecks: I own one that is only worn as an undershirt. It's purple, though, so it does match the video. I never wear it out on its own, and I keep my chest hair to myself. Again, you're welcome.
3. Toms: Yes, I wear them. I also wear Sambas, which are clearly shown as not hipster enough in this video, and I wear the Sambas 5/7 days each week.
4. Faux hawk/Euro-mullet: Had a faux hawk, never a mullet of any sort. So you could have gotten me on this one, but now I have a shaved head thanks to the recession we are in. You just missed pinning this one on me.
5. Scarves/zip up hoodie: I own one scarf, which is only used in the winter when I will be outside for multiple hours at a time. I don't own any unnecessary scarves. And a zip up hoodie? I own one, but it's never worn over a scarf, and it's not hipster at all. It's a Michigan hoodie, and everyone knows sports hoodies aren't hipster. They're mainstream.
6. Thick-rimmed glasses (non-prescription): there's nothing cool about wearing glasses, people. I wear them because I'm almost blind in one eye. I can't distinguish between a man and a woman from 15 feet away if I'm only using my left eye with no correction. But my glasses are thick-rimmed.
7. Hebrew tattoo: I have Hebrew tattooed on my arm, but I'm of Jewish descent. I didn't even realize that it was cool with Gentiles till I met someone with a Hebrew tattoo that wasn't a Jew. My first question: "Hey, are you Jewish?" Them: "No, why?" Me: "You have Hebrew on your arm. I just figured." Not everyone with a big nose and/or Hebrew tattooed on them is a Jew. I just thought that it meant that. But I'll take a point if you want me to. I'm not scoring too highly, though.
8. Trendy beanie: Don't own one. I wear winter hats when it's cold outside. It's a Michigan winter hat. Again, sports are mainstream, not hipstery.
9. iPhone Bible: yes, I have one of those, but I also read from a...wait for it...Bible made from paper everyday, and I almost always use a hardcopy Bible when I preach.
10. Cooler than the other side of the pillow: I just took 9 points explaining to you why I'm not cool at all. I'm not. Some people pretend to be nerds now, because being a nerd is trendy...but only if you do it intentionally. I was born nerdy, and that's not cool.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
fishers of men
I got to teach the preschool class this past Sunday. It's not something that I do often. I'm not nearly as good at it as any of my volunteers, so I tend to stick to teaching the elementary and youth ministries. Due to illness on behalf of a children's ministry stalwart, though, I filled in for one day. The story was about Jesus' recruiting His disciples. He told his fishermen friends that if they would follow Him, He would make them fishers of men. So naturally, I taught the little kids the song, "Fishers of Men." Also naturally, it reminded me of something from my childhood that made me laugh.
Thirty minutes is a long time to ride in a car for a fourth and fifth grader. My brother Dan and I did it six times every week: on the way to and from Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday evening services. It lends to hyperactivity and a little misbehavior. It also leads to the kind of extreme boredom and causes a little kid to eavesdrop on his parents' conversations. One day, while we were on the way to church, my mom was relaying a prayer request to my dad. Someone from their Sunday school was suffering from anal fissures. I knew roughly what the first word meant, but I didn't get the second part, so I butted in. I asked what a fissure was. My parents explained it to the best of their G-rated ability.
At this point, I should tell you that my brother Dan and I are a lot alike. It's almost spooky. We think the same things, often at the same time, and we tend to be in sync on most things. We are not basketball studs, but we used to win a lot, and I think it was our connectivity that did it. I always knew where he would go before he went there, and visa versa.
So there we were, sitting in the back seat. Our mom got done explaining fissures to us. Without any sort of collaboration, we both started singing, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men..." I know what you're thinking: that's hilarious! I agree! Mom didn't agree back then. My sister Lisa, the consummate big sister, also did not think it was funny and wished for justice to be carried out. Of course, my mom agreed with her. And that is how we got spanked for singing a song we had learned in junior church.
Thirty minutes is a long time to ride in a car for a fourth and fifth grader. My brother Dan and I did it six times every week: on the way to and from Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday evening services. It lends to hyperactivity and a little misbehavior. It also leads to the kind of extreme boredom and causes a little kid to eavesdrop on his parents' conversations. One day, while we were on the way to church, my mom was relaying a prayer request to my dad. Someone from their Sunday school was suffering from anal fissures. I knew roughly what the first word meant, but I didn't get the second part, so I butted in. I asked what a fissure was. My parents explained it to the best of their G-rated ability.
At this point, I should tell you that my brother Dan and I are a lot alike. It's almost spooky. We think the same things, often at the same time, and we tend to be in sync on most things. We are not basketball studs, but we used to win a lot, and I think it was our connectivity that did it. I always knew where he would go before he went there, and visa versa.
So there we were, sitting in the back seat. Our mom got done explaining fissures to us. Without any sort of collaboration, we both started singing, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men..." I know what you're thinking: that's hilarious! I agree! Mom didn't agree back then. My sister Lisa, the consummate big sister, also did not think it was funny and wished for justice to be carried out. Of course, my mom agreed with her. And that is how we got spanked for singing a song we had learned in junior church.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
the pastor's wife
Being a wife cannot be easy. Almost every married guy I know drives his wife crazy to some extent. Being a wife and mom only complicates things. I know it is tiring. When I come home from work, Sarah's always more tired than me. Her job is more demanding on most days. Just because it doesn't come with a paycheck doesn't mean staying home with a two year old isn't hard labor.
If being a wife is difficult, then imagine the added stress of being a pastor's wife. There are a lot of burdens and hurts that no one knows she carries. If a heavy burden is laid on me at work, for the most part, I can go home and talk it out with Sarah. Most people in most instances allow me to do that. So she carries what I carry along with me. Then there are times I cannot tell her what I'm dealing with, because the matters are very private, but she knows something's there. She can see it in my demeanor. If I am hurting for someone else, she will see it and hurt for me. She just doesn't know what's hurting. Then who does she go to with these hurts? This is why I try to keep her out of what I'm doing. I don't want her to hurt, but she persists to be there for me.
For the most part, my schedule is a standard schedule. I have office hours. I can come and go as I need. The biggest difference between my job's hours and most others is that my busiest day is Sunday, and then I don't work Monday. But then there's the fall when I go to lots of sporting events to support the athletes in youth group, spring when I go to lots of musicals to support the thespians, and Summer when I go away on trips and activities. There are also emergency times when someone needs me, and I either have to be on the phone, come home very late, or leave unexpectedly. All these times turn Sarah into a single mom for the day. If something happens, and I cannot come home till 9 or 10 at night, she's got Jakob for all that time. And he's two. And he doesn't nap for long, if at all. And it's rarely expected. She adapts on the fly to what can become my hectic schedule.
She shares my burdens. She adapts to my schedule. She ministers silently to people who will never know that she is caring for them. She works behind the scenes, encouraging me, making me stronger, and helping get my mind right so I can go back out and do it all again. She prays for the church. She supports the church. She ministers quietly to the church. She is a pastor's wife. October is Pastoral Appreciation Month. You shouldn't forget to appreciate the ones that minister most often to the ministers, though. I appreciate her. I love her.
If being a wife is difficult, then imagine the added stress of being a pastor's wife. There are a lot of burdens and hurts that no one knows she carries. If a heavy burden is laid on me at work, for the most part, I can go home and talk it out with Sarah. Most people in most instances allow me to do that. So she carries what I carry along with me. Then there are times I cannot tell her what I'm dealing with, because the matters are very private, but she knows something's there. She can see it in my demeanor. If I am hurting for someone else, she will see it and hurt for me. She just doesn't know what's hurting. Then who does she go to with these hurts? This is why I try to keep her out of what I'm doing. I don't want her to hurt, but she persists to be there for me.
For the most part, my schedule is a standard schedule. I have office hours. I can come and go as I need. The biggest difference between my job's hours and most others is that my busiest day is Sunday, and then I don't work Monday. But then there's the fall when I go to lots of sporting events to support the athletes in youth group, spring when I go to lots of musicals to support the thespians, and Summer when I go away on trips and activities. There are also emergency times when someone needs me, and I either have to be on the phone, come home very late, or leave unexpectedly. All these times turn Sarah into a single mom for the day. If something happens, and I cannot come home till 9 or 10 at night, she's got Jakob for all that time. And he's two. And he doesn't nap for long, if at all. And it's rarely expected. She adapts on the fly to what can become my hectic schedule.
She shares my burdens. She adapts to my schedule. She ministers silently to people who will never know that she is caring for them. She works behind the scenes, encouraging me, making me stronger, and helping get my mind right so I can go back out and do it all again. She prays for the church. She supports the church. She ministers quietly to the church. She is a pastor's wife. October is Pastoral Appreciation Month. You shouldn't forget to appreciate the ones that minister most often to the ministers, though. I appreciate her. I love her.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Valuing your family
I recently read an article called, "10 Ways to be a Better Father." Maybe it was oversimplifying things a bit, but the point is well made. To be a better dad or mom, be there.
Be there for your kids. If your child needs something, who should they go to first? They should go to you, so it's important to establish with them that you will be there. I have heard parents say, "My world does not revolve around you," to their kids, as it shouldn't all the time. But when your child is in need, it should at least for a little while. I've seen my parents do this, and I've seen it in others, and I think it is a mark of a great parent. To love your child so much that your world stops when they need you is what I call good parenting.
You cannot really be there for your children if you are never home, though, so I think it's also important to be there with your children. If my schedule impedes my ability to see Jakob enough, I'm altering my schedule. This week, due to extenuating circumstances, I did not get home from work until nearly 10:00 PM Tuesday or Wednesday. I barely got to be home with Jakob. Today, I'm typing this out the long way: on my phone, because I am home. If it is within my power to limit it, my son should not have to miss me all the time. Yes, I have a job. I even have a social life! There are times when I cannot be with him, and there are times when it's okay to be apart from each other. But I will not make him go days without me. I choose to be there with him.
Be there for yours, too.
Be there for your kids. If your child needs something, who should they go to first? They should go to you, so it's important to establish with them that you will be there. I have heard parents say, "My world does not revolve around you," to their kids, as it shouldn't all the time. But when your child is in need, it should at least for a little while. I've seen my parents do this, and I've seen it in others, and I think it is a mark of a great parent. To love your child so much that your world stops when they need you is what I call good parenting.
You cannot really be there for your children if you are never home, though, so I think it's also important to be there with your children. If my schedule impedes my ability to see Jakob enough, I'm altering my schedule. This week, due to extenuating circumstances, I did not get home from work until nearly 10:00 PM Tuesday or Wednesday. I barely got to be home with Jakob. Today, I'm typing this out the long way: on my phone, because I am home. If it is within my power to limit it, my son should not have to miss me all the time. Yes, I have a job. I even have a social life! There are times when I cannot be with him, and there are times when it's okay to be apart from each other. But I will not make him go days without me. I choose to be there with him.
Be there for yours, too.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
too smart for my own good
I like the title of my post today. It sounds like I'm talking about myself. But alas, I am not. Jakob is the one that is too smart for my own good. Sometimes he does things that we don't expect him to do, and it makes us proud knowing that he is a smart boy, and other times he does things that indicate he is not just smart, but perhaps an evil genius with plans to overthrow us. He likes to vacuum. He knows how to turn the vacuum on and pushes it around, back-and-forth like Sarah. He also knows how to turn on the dishwasher, unlock it when it is done, and he puts the silverware away in the right drawer, but not quite the right order. He's not tall enough to see, which he inherited from me. He knows how to turn a movie on on his iPod, break the iPod, and then fix it when we are at a loss for what he has done. He picks up many things he sees, and being a quiet, loner type, he sits and figures other things out. All of these habits are all well and good. Counting Sarah, it gives us two people in the house that like to clean.
But like the Force, there is a dark side to his intelligence. He can be cunning and deceptive. I put him in his bed last night, and he wasn't too thrilled to be going to sleep. Sometimes he lays right down, and other times he throws a fit. I guess that's normal. Last night, as he was throwing a fit, I decided to stay and play with him to calm him down before leaving his room. I picked up his blanket and put it over my head, and I asked, "Where's Daddy?" He kind of laughed while still crying as he pulled the blanket off my head. I did it a second time, and this time, he laughed a little bit and stopped crying. The third time I did it, he laughed pretty hard. Since it was working, and I'm kind of a one trick pony, I went for four straight times. I put his blanket over my head, asked where I was, and instead of having the blanket ripped from my head, I heard scooting. He had timed me like a batter times a pitcher. He lulled me into a false sense of peekaboo security. I put the blanket over my head, and he knew it would stay there until he pulled it off. He felt unguarded and tried to get away. Sadly for him, it's a toddler bed, and there's only one quick way in or out, and it was just to my right. I caught him in the act. I put my right hand up at the last second, and he crashed into it. He was stuck in the bed.
I will admit to being proud of him. It was a fine display of intelligence. I laughed out loud when I realized what he was doing. I hugged him, told him I loved him, and put him back in his bed. It also worried me, though. I suspect our hands will be more and more full in the years to come. He really is and will be too smart for my own good.
But like the Force, there is a dark side to his intelligence. He can be cunning and deceptive. I put him in his bed last night, and he wasn't too thrilled to be going to sleep. Sometimes he lays right down, and other times he throws a fit. I guess that's normal. Last night, as he was throwing a fit, I decided to stay and play with him to calm him down before leaving his room. I picked up his blanket and put it over my head, and I asked, "Where's Daddy?" He kind of laughed while still crying as he pulled the blanket off my head. I did it a second time, and this time, he laughed a little bit and stopped crying. The third time I did it, he laughed pretty hard. Since it was working, and I'm kind of a one trick pony, I went for four straight times. I put his blanket over my head, asked where I was, and instead of having the blanket ripped from my head, I heard scooting. He had timed me like a batter times a pitcher. He lulled me into a false sense of peekaboo security. I put the blanket over my head, and he knew it would stay there until he pulled it off. He felt unguarded and tried to get away. Sadly for him, it's a toddler bed, and there's only one quick way in or out, and it was just to my right. I caught him in the act. I put my right hand up at the last second, and he crashed into it. He was stuck in the bed.
I will admit to being proud of him. It was a fine display of intelligence. I laughed out loud when I realized what he was doing. I hugged him, told him I loved him, and put him back in his bed. It also worried me, though. I suspect our hands will be more and more full in the years to come. He really is and will be too smart for my own good.
Friday, September 16, 2011
love each other
It was a simple command: love each other. Love other Christians. The commandment is simple, but the execution isn't always easy. I would venture to say that it would be impossible to find any Christian today who is beloved by all other Christians. We have personalities. We have differences. Add in that not every Christian makes himself oh-so lovable, and some even go out of their way to be abrasive, and these simply understood words become even more difficult to follow.
You don't have to spend too much time in church or around Christians to find out who people do and don't like in the Christian world. We haven't traditionally been very guarded with that kind of information. Some even feel like it's their Christian duty to put down others in the name of defending doctrine. It's easy to do. I've never found it difficult. Doug Fields said, "Criticism is low-hanging fruit–it’s such an easy and attractive tactic for an unhappy person." He's spot on. It takes little to no effort to criticize.
It certainly doesn't take any work of God in our lives. There is no spiritual gift of grumbling, although if there were, we could all pick out the ones we know that really exemplify it. The world will hate us, especially for what we do in the name of Christ. Being devoid of God, they still have criticism and hate down pat. Let's be different.
Ephesians 4:31-32 tells us to, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you."
Let's not hate on each other. Maybe we could show grace towards other Christians, be kind and forgiving, and not completely write someone off for one thing we dislike about them. Let's follow His command to love each other.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
an annual birthday tradition
Saturday was Jakob's second birthday. It was a great day, and even though I should have been doing school work, I mostly sloughed that off to spend the day with him. Or, you might say he was the opportunity for further procrastination. I honestly think it's a combination, but I really do love him, so I give him more credit in this. If you want a pictorial history of his day, you can watch a video HERE.
Saturday was also the first night game in the history of the Big House, where U of M plays its home games. They were playing the hated Notre Dame. The very first game I ever watched with Jakob was a Michigan v. Notre Dame game. He was born on a Thursday, and Sarah wasn't discharged from the hospital till Sunday afternoon. So of course we watched the Michigan game in the hospital room. It was an exciting game, both because I held my precious newborn in his U of M outfit, and because it went right down to the very end. Oh, and Michigan won, which put it over the top. My first game with Jakob was a win.
Last year, I spent the day of the Michigan v. Notre Dame game with Jakob. He was still small enough and inactive enough to be convinced to sit on my lap. I couldn't do that now, but he did last year. Together, we (or I) watched Michigan beat them at the very end of the game. Two years in a row, it was the most exciting Michigan game of the year, you know, because they actually won.
So now Jakob has been around for three Michigan v. Notre Dame games, and all three have gone down to the very end of the fourth quarter, with Michigan crushing their dreams and the ND fans' hearts. It has become an annual tradition to watch this happen, and it'll always be right around his birthday. I look forward to next year.
Friday, September 9, 2011
let the last time be the last time
We're finishing up our Surrender series by Francis Chan this Sunday. The topics that have been covered have been Surrender Stuff, Surrender Status, Surrender Sin, and this Sunday will be Surrender Self. It's so nicely alliterated. I recommend it solely based on that (and the teaching really has been good, too). After each video, there is time for group discussion. After watching the video on surrendering sin, I got up to discuss, but it took a more teachy approach (not that I'm putting that down, because I think it worked).
One thing I talked about is that I've personally noticed how difficult it is to quit sinning, especially when you grow accustom to your sin. You can even get to a point of disgust with it, but you can fool yourself into continuing indefinitely with one simple thought: "Okay, I swear this is the last time." How many times have you told yourself right before sinning that this will be the last time? In comparison, how many times has it turned out to truly be the last time? We allow ourselves to sin, and when the next opportunity comes up, we often tell ourselves the same lie again, and we tend to fall for it again and again. This is the last time.
It's kind of a crazy if you think about it. Why do you think about making this the last time? Probably because the Holy Spirit is convicting you, shouting to you, "NO! Don't do that again!" So you tell yourself (and Him) that it's okay, this will be the last time. What you're really saying is, "Please be quiet. I want to sin." You blow off the Holy Spirit's convicting you, and you proceed. I know how this goes. I've been through this. But then I felt the conviction turned up a notch when I said, "This will be the last time," once. Because I felt like God's response was, "No, let last time be the last time."
That's now what I tell myself when I am tempted to sin. It's not a fool proof method, because I am strongly a fool, and I fail, but it works a lot more often than giving myself one last sinful hurrah after one last sinful hurrah.
So do you struggle with lusty sins? Stealing? Cheating on tests? Whatever it is that you struggle with, let the last time be the last time.
One thing I talked about is that I've personally noticed how difficult it is to quit sinning, especially when you grow accustom to your sin. You can even get to a point of disgust with it, but you can fool yourself into continuing indefinitely with one simple thought: "Okay, I swear this is the last time." How many times have you told yourself right before sinning that this will be the last time? In comparison, how many times has it turned out to truly be the last time? We allow ourselves to sin, and when the next opportunity comes up, we often tell ourselves the same lie again, and we tend to fall for it again and again. This is the last time.
It's kind of a crazy if you think about it. Why do you think about making this the last time? Probably because the Holy Spirit is convicting you, shouting to you, "NO! Don't do that again!" So you tell yourself (and Him) that it's okay, this will be the last time. What you're really saying is, "Please be quiet. I want to sin." You blow off the Holy Spirit's convicting you, and you proceed. I know how this goes. I've been through this. But then I felt the conviction turned up a notch when I said, "This will be the last time," once. Because I felt like God's response was, "No, let last time be the last time."
That's now what I tell myself when I am tempted to sin. It's not a fool proof method, because I am strongly a fool, and I fail, but it works a lot more often than giving myself one last sinful hurrah after one last sinful hurrah.
So do you struggle with lusty sins? Stealing? Cheating on tests? Whatever it is that you struggle with, let the last time be the last time.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
two scoops of apple butter
I like most things made from apples. Apple flavored Jolly Ranchers were my favorite ones to steal from my youth pastor's office. My current favorite dessert is Sarah's upside down caramel apple and walnut pie, and it replaced regular old homemade apple pie. Those caramel apple suckers are the best suckers of all time...of all time! I have drank so much apple cider during one day to make myself sick, and I still bought another gallon the next day. And then there's the caramel apple (I obviously love the combination): I'll be making up for lost time with those after I get back into shape.
But there is one apple based delicacy I have been unable to enjoy for four years now: apple butter. I used to really like it. I have never liked grape jelly too much, so I mostly ate strawberry. Apple butter was a great alternative I got probably once a year when we'd venture to Shipshewana. What isn't to like about apples smashed to a spreadable pulp? We'll get there.
You know what else is traditionally awesome? Two scoops. Really doesn't matter how it's being used. Two scoops of raisins in every box? I'll buy that. Two scoops of ice cream? Yup, that's better than one. How many scoops of sugar in your coffee? Two, you say? Yes, of course. It is a wildly popular amount of scoops of anything. So the thought of two scoops of apple butter should bring a smile to anyone's face, especially my apple-loving face. But it doesn't.
When I worked at Baymeadows in Florida, we did old fashion visitation, or at least in a sense. I was filling in one evening for one of the other pastors, which put me with people I wasn't used to spending time with. It was a much older crowd, and I didn't spend a lot of time with the elderly. I spent the bulk of my time with the teenagers and the Christian school students. So it was bound to be different, if not a little awkward. Just when I thought things were going well, Amish country came up. I mentioned how I liked going when I was a kid, because I liked the chicken, the apple butter, and going places with my mom. That's when my life changed. A very elderly lady reached over and put her hand on the back of my hand. I thought she was going to say how sweet it was that I liked going places with my mom. Elderly ladies tend to appreciate that. But no, that wasn't it. She kept her hand on my hand, looked me in the eye, and in a very sincere voice said...
"I love apple butter. I have two scoops every day on my toast. It keeps me regular."
It was a scarring moment. I think of it every time I see apple butter on the shelf. I could not take having it in my house. I don't need permanent reminders.
But there is one apple based delicacy I have been unable to enjoy for four years now: apple butter. I used to really like it. I have never liked grape jelly too much, so I mostly ate strawberry. Apple butter was a great alternative I got probably once a year when we'd venture to Shipshewana. What isn't to like about apples smashed to a spreadable pulp? We'll get there.
You know what else is traditionally awesome? Two scoops. Really doesn't matter how it's being used. Two scoops of raisins in every box? I'll buy that. Two scoops of ice cream? Yup, that's better than one. How many scoops of sugar in your coffee? Two, you say? Yes, of course. It is a wildly popular amount of scoops of anything. So the thought of two scoops of apple butter should bring a smile to anyone's face, especially my apple-loving face. But it doesn't.
When I worked at Baymeadows in Florida, we did old fashion visitation, or at least in a sense. I was filling in one evening for one of the other pastors, which put me with people I wasn't used to spending time with. It was a much older crowd, and I didn't spend a lot of time with the elderly. I spent the bulk of my time with the teenagers and the Christian school students. So it was bound to be different, if not a little awkward. Just when I thought things were going well, Amish country came up. I mentioned how I liked going when I was a kid, because I liked the chicken, the apple butter, and going places with my mom. That's when my life changed. A very elderly lady reached over and put her hand on the back of my hand. I thought she was going to say how sweet it was that I liked going places with my mom. Elderly ladies tend to appreciate that. But no, that wasn't it. She kept her hand on my hand, looked me in the eye, and in a very sincere voice said...
"I love apple butter. I have two scoops every day on my toast. It keeps me regular."
It was a scarring moment. I think of it every time I see apple butter on the shelf. I could not take having it in my house. I don't need permanent reminders.
Monday, September 5, 2011
what I no longer want to be
micoach screen shot, describing my completed workout and how I felt about it: I hated its guts.
I have a knack for surprising people with a special talent: I'm fast. But there are a lot of fast people, and certainly most people are faster than me. So what's the big surprise? I'm really fast...for a fat guy. Some have said that I'm deceptively fast. I just don't look like I'd be quick, which is probably a better word for it. My quick bursts do not last long enough to make me a fast mile runner, because until last week, I hadn't run a mile in over 5 years, partly because I wouldn't want to, and partly because I couldn't.
I used to brag about being a really fast fat guy. It didn't bother me much. I wasn't happy overall with my physique, but hey, at least Sarah still loved me, and at least I was still fast. But I don't much feel like bragging about it anymore. I've grown tired of the instant joke material it creates. I do not like putting a shirt on in the morning and hoping it still fits. Sucking in to do up my pants doesn't much appeal to me, either.
I don't want to be fast for a fat guy anymore. I want to be viewed as kind of slow for being in such good shape. So I've been working hard. Thanks to the encouragement of Sarah and other friends - not to start, but to be successful - I've got my act mostly together. I'm no where near where I want to be, but I'm moving in that direction steadily.
I've cut out pop. I've begun counting and tracking my calories on the myfitnesspal app for my phone. I track my workouts. I go to the gym two or three times a week, and I'm committed to running and walking at least 2 miles (combined) one other day. I track my progress on my runs using the micoach app. And I didn't start last week. I've held off on mentioning it until it became a solid part of my routine. Anyone can diet and exercise for two or three weeks straight. I know I've done it many times before. But this time, I think it's different. I have goals, I have the tools, and I actually have the ambition. I've bee working out for 6 straight weeks, and I've lost 2 pounds per week all but two weeks. I don't like missing the gym, which is what led to running in the first place. I have to exercise.
What are my ultimate goals? First, to throw away every pair of fat pants and never buy them again. I want to move down to at least a 32-inch waist, which means addressing the Starbucks' proportioned muffin top above the waist. If I stay on track, that's attainable by Christmas or shortly after. I hate shots, so I want to avoid diabetes, which runs in my family. I like clothes. I want to wear them and enjoy them and not hold my breath hoping to be able to button them without sucking in. And I want to honor Sarah, who's gained all of 5 pounds in 10 years of marriage and carrying one child.
So I'm on a journey. Feel free to encourage me, and I look forward to the day when you say, "Huh. You know, you're kind of slow."
Friday, September 2, 2011
I come from a stiff necked people.
If you grew up in church like me, and you had a youth pastor whose goal was to teach you the entire Old Testament in three years of Sunday school (we only covered Genesis, Job, and Exodus while I was in there), and the only version you were allowed to learn from was the King James Version, then you would know that the Jews were a "stiff-necked people." If you read or watch the news, you'll occasionally see the modern day evidence of this still being true. And so it should come as no surprise to you that I am an obstinate man. That's the non-KJV way of saying stiff-necked.
One area that I am particularly to digging my heels in over is Christian movies and books. People have instigated me without being anything more than friendly and perhaps slightly pushy in their wording. Saying things like, "You have to read/watch/do this!," especially about something I'm not particularly interested in consuming in the first place, can cause it. Examples: "You have to read The Shack! You'll love it!" I didn't read it. I probably wouldn't have liked it.
I cannot say for sure where this comes from, other than the obvious (my heritage). Maybe it stems from, "You have to see Facing the Giants," because although I was promised I'd love it, I didn't. Then everyone insisted I would love Fireproof, and I hated it. After having a planning meeting with two of my youth pastor friends with similarly silly Christian backgrounds, I think I am better able to put a finger on it. Maybe it's most likely that I am permanently scarred from all the ridiculous Christian movies I watched growing up at "watch night services." You know the ones where people are left behind, others go to Hell, and some were even beheaded? Yeah, those movies. I think it's likely that I haven't liked Christian movies since I was a kid (except the Butter Cream Gang, and there's no explanation for my liking that one).
I think I will just stick to the Bible and books written by pastors whose teaching and writing don't make me want to jam pencils in my ears. I will stick to movies that interest me, and not be guilted into seeing anything I think will bore me. I say all that to say this: please don't invite me to see Courage with you. My heels are already deep in the earth over this movie, and it's not even out yet. I know the message is great, but I can get the same message from Deuteronomy 6 and the life of my parents. I don't need B actors (and that might be a compliment) to get it.
One area that I am particularly to digging my heels in over is Christian movies and books. People have instigated me without being anything more than friendly and perhaps slightly pushy in their wording. Saying things like, "You have to read/watch/do this!," especially about something I'm not particularly interested in consuming in the first place, can cause it. Examples: "You have to read The Shack! You'll love it!" I didn't read it. I probably wouldn't have liked it.
I cannot say for sure where this comes from, other than the obvious (my heritage). Maybe it stems from, "You have to see Facing the Giants," because although I was promised I'd love it, I didn't. Then everyone insisted I would love Fireproof, and I hated it. After having a planning meeting with two of my youth pastor friends with similarly silly Christian backgrounds, I think I am better able to put a finger on it. Maybe it's most likely that I am permanently scarred from all the ridiculous Christian movies I watched growing up at "watch night services." You know the ones where people are left behind, others go to Hell, and some were even beheaded? Yeah, those movies. I think it's likely that I haven't liked Christian movies since I was a kid (except the Butter Cream Gang, and there's no explanation for my liking that one).
I think I will just stick to the Bible and books written by pastors whose teaching and writing don't make me want to jam pencils in my ears. I will stick to movies that interest me, and not be guilted into seeing anything I think will bore me. I say all that to say this: please don't invite me to see Courage with you. My heels are already deep in the earth over this movie, and it's not even out yet. I know the message is great, but I can get the same message from Deuteronomy 6 and the life of my parents. I don't need B actors (and that might be a compliment) to get it.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Do you like my tie?
I get that not everyone's a people person, and even less people are a kids person. It's fine. Not everyone knows how to relate in social settings with children. Sometimes it's because you don't have a child, sometimes it's because your children are all grown up and these new kids are different, and sometimes it's because you're weird. Whatever the case may be, I'm cool with non-kids people, so long as they aren't mean spirited about it. It's one thing to not know how to interact with kids. It's another thing to get all riled up when kids act like kids and start yelling at them.Whatever type of non-kid person you are - the awkward or the mean - you're bound to leave an impression on that kid for the rest of his life if you do have a chance interaction with him. I'm 29, and I still instinctively cringe at the mention of some people's names, because I still see them as that person who yelled at me. Those people have left an imprint on my life. Some of them were my Sunday school teachers, and they've left a permanent imprint on my ministry, because I consciously choose to be nothing like them.
But not every interaction with a non-kid person was bad. Sure, they may have been uncomfortable, but some guys were just trying to be nice. One guy in particular was just trying to relate to a couple of new kids sitting in the back with their parents. He was an usher at our church, and he did his best to reach out to us. And I remember it well.
We were sitting there, and it came time to shake hands with those around you (a staple church tradition that has always been off-putting to me). This man came over, shook hands with my parents, and then moved down the line to shake hands with me and Dan. He then asked, as he pulled his tie out away from his chest to give us a better view, "Do you like my tie? It's baseball." Of course it was baseball, and the answer was still no. It was one of those ugly burgundy ties with strange vintage looking sports designs on it. But it was funny. It seemed like a strange thing to say, and it still sounds clunky to me when I repeat it. Neither of us answered. We just stared at him, because we knew better than to laugh at him then. So he moved on.
I think of him whenever someone asks if I like their tie, though. If you were to call me on the phone or text me and ask me if I like your tie, I'd smile and respond, "It's baseball," and I would genuinely find it funny, even if you don't know what I'm talking about. If you texted or called my brother Dan and asked the same question, you'd get the same answer.
The guy wasn't a kid person. If I remember correctly, he and his wife didn't have a kid for at least another 5 years. He had no experience, and he was kind of weird. But I remember him fondly, because he didn't let his being uncomfortable with us push him to being rude to us. So be a non-kid person if you must, but be remembered for the right reason.
Monday, August 29, 2011
giving gifts to infinity and beyond
I find great joy in giving gifts. I also find great joy in receiving gifts. I guess I have the spiritual gifts of giving and receiving. I would be lying if I said I always enjoy giving more than getting. I think most people would be lying if they said that. There are times we want presents. We want new things to replace our old things, even if they haven't gotten old yet. Exhibit A: see my shoe collection (which got bigger by one pair on Saturday).
I used to spoil Sarah, because I could. She used to spoil me in return, because she could. We used to have two well-paying jobs and zero children, and giving to each other was probably on the side of effortless and perhaps gratuitous. It takes a lot more to give to each other now, because we don't have as much. Mine is the only income, and the preexisting debts of a foolish young couple are those of a two income family. Oh, and have I ever mentioned that we have a kid? His name is Jakob, and he's pictured above (in case you've never seen a picture of him). So giving takes planning, creativity, saving (which I'm not good at), and usually a special occasion.
This weekend, I did a wedding for a really cool couple, and I had fun doing it. They are great people to be around. As per us', I was paid as the performing minister. It is rare for us to receive extra income, so I had an idea of what I wanted to do with the money already. It's the same thing I always want to do when I get extra money: buy one pair of shoes. Sarah told me to spend the money on me, which I liked the sound of, and I spent several hours on selfishly planning to do that. Then I felt bad when I realized what I was doing. I wanted to share. I really do love giving gifts to them as much as I like receiving them, and often times even more so.
So I decided to buy Jakob a big toy, and give the remaining portion to Sarah (which gave us all similar amounts of spending money). Now, bear with me while I tell you about Jakob and how good he is in stores. We go to Target a lot, and every time we do, he wants to go see Buzz. Buzz is his favorite. It might be the only word he says perfectly. He loves to press the buttons on the light up, talking toy. He'll pick up the box and smile in at him, say his name about twenty times, press all the buttons. He really enjoys himself. When it's time for us to move on - and moving on means putting the toy back, because we usually can't afford it - we tell him to say goodbye to Buzz. So he gently puts him back on the shelf, adjusting him to make sure the box is on straight and facing out, and waves goodbye. He walks away without a fuss.
It makes me proud every time, but it also makes me a little sad. I want to buy things for him. I want him to have whatever he wants. But then I realize that he is a really unselfish kid, and he's content to play for a few minutes and put him away. So when we took him to Meijer the other day and let him play for a few minutes with Buzz, he started to hand him back to me. He figured it was time to put him away and move on. But I asked if he wanted Buzz. I asked if he wanted to take him home with us. He looked down at Buzz, disappearing from my view behind the big box, and then his head came up above the box again. He's almost two, but even at his age, the drop jawed look of shock was obvious. The light in his eyes was bright. He has my smile, which means it stretches widely from ear-to-ear when he's excited, and he was, and it did.
When we got home, I set out to get his toy out of the package for him. It took many minutes, thanks to our country's abundance of shoplifters. Jakob just kept saying, "Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!" He was losing his patience. I finally got him out and gave it to him. He took off running with him, vocalizing some crazy noises that he must relate to Buzz. He said his own name a few times, probably telling Buzz he wasn't Andy's toy, but Jakob's. He played for a long time like a little boy, not like a baby. He made sound effects, pressed the buttons, ran around and flew Buzz through the air.
I had tears in my eyes as I watched him play. Honestly, I had tears in my eyes while we were still in the store and on the drive home. I got more as I typed this, thinking about how good my son is, how much he deserves to be given things for his good behavior, and how much he loves his new favorite toy that he really does deserve. Look at his face again in the picture above. That is the face of a kid who expects very little, enjoys what he has, and is overcome with joy and appreciation when he gets something out of the ordinary. He and Sarah have similar personalities. Neither one takes gifts for granted, and both show sincere appreciation every time they get something. How could I not want to keep giving them gifts for the rest of my life?
Friday, August 26, 2011
ears to hear
If you read our KCC eNews, then you may have already read this, or perhaps, you already knew it existed and deleted it before reading it, because you didn't care. But if you don't care about what I write about, why did you come to my blog in the first place? What's gotten into you? Who am I even talking to? I'd better press on.
I am on a tri-weekly rotation with our other two pastors now to write a column for our eNews. It lends to my blogging laziness, of course, because it does scratch my writing itch. But why not share it with you, my faithful readers?
We have been working through a sermon series called, "Letters from God," using the 7 letters to the 7 churches in Revelation. If you've read that passage of the Bible, you probably noticed this phrase occurring a lot: let him who has ears to hear hear what God is saying. Jesus was speaking truth to His people, and it wasn't all sunshine and unicorns. He was laying down some pretty heavy stuff. So He challenged them to have ears to hear what He was saying.
When we encounter the Word of God, and it sheds light on areas of our lives that need some tidying up, we can generally react one of three ways. First, we can be deaf to what it is saying, and not realize how much it actually applies to us. That's certainly not having ears to hear. The next two reactions both include hearing, but they lead to completely different outcomes. When a person hears the Word of God taught, and it makes them uncomfortable due to sin in his life, he can choose to be convicted over it or offended by it.
Often times, as Christians, we choose to be offended. We pretend like the person teaching the Bible was out of line, because it is easier than acknowledging that our lives our out of line with the Bible. But if we truly have ears to hear what the Spirit of God is saying to us, we will hear what the Bible says, be convicted by the sin and inconsistencies in our lives, and allow the Holy Spirit to work in us and through us.
Do you have ears to hear?
I am on a tri-weekly rotation with our other two pastors now to write a column for our eNews. It lends to my blogging laziness, of course, because it does scratch my writing itch. But why not share it with you, my faithful readers?
We have been working through a sermon series called, "Letters from God," using the 7 letters to the 7 churches in Revelation. If you've read that passage of the Bible, you probably noticed this phrase occurring a lot: let him who has ears to hear hear what God is saying. Jesus was speaking truth to His people, and it wasn't all sunshine and unicorns. He was laying down some pretty heavy stuff. So He challenged them to have ears to hear what He was saying.
When we encounter the Word of God, and it sheds light on areas of our lives that need some tidying up, we can generally react one of three ways. First, we can be deaf to what it is saying, and not realize how much it actually applies to us. That's certainly not having ears to hear. The next two reactions both include hearing, but they lead to completely different outcomes. When a person hears the Word of God taught, and it makes them uncomfortable due to sin in his life, he can choose to be convicted over it or offended by it.
Often times, as Christians, we choose to be offended. We pretend like the person teaching the Bible was out of line, because it is easier than acknowledging that our lives our out of line with the Bible. But if we truly have ears to hear what the Spirit of God is saying to us, we will hear what the Bible says, be convicted by the sin and inconsistencies in our lives, and allow the Holy Spirit to work in us and through us.
Do you have ears to hear?
Thursday, August 25, 2011
making memories
I have been busy all Summer, and most of the things that have kept me hopping will stay in my mind for a long time. It's been a Summer of memory making. Here is a pictorial key to the big events of my Summer. I thought, "Hey, if Bill Simmons could get me to go through a 20-page photo essay of his visit to the National Sports Collectors Convention, Maybe I can get people to go through many less pages of a photo essay of my Summer." I'm not sure if my reasoning is solid, since he's kind of famous/popular, and I'm me, but here goes nothing.
Jonny Lang Concert
Jonny Lang Concert
For Mother's Day this year, I took Sarah to see Jonny Lang in concert. The concert wasn't until June 24, though, so it was our last date before I left for Nashville. Sarah decided Jakob could come along, and that was her choice as the recipient of the gift, and I wasn't about to argue. 8 more hours with my son before I left for a week? Sure thing.
Todd did the same for Amanda, but their boys got to go play on a lake with her family. So it was just the 5 of us.
Mission Trip to Nashville
Before our trip, I put out a challenge to the students going: whoever brought the most cans for our mission trip can drive go to select my hairdo for the entire week of our trip. Isaac won. Here's what happened:
I'm only halfway through the process here. Now this would have been a good choice. There are people who do this and think it looks good. I would have just looked like a turd.
Things are starting to come into view. Here's the final product, the look I sported for 11 straight days:
I didn't hold that facial pose for 11 straight days. I really didn't want it to stick that way.
23 students and 8 adults headed to Nashville. We started our week at Crosspoint Community Church, where Pete Wilson preaches and Carlos Whittaker inspires people to worship. It was nuts (in a good way). Then we spent 4 days working in different areas of the community. All in all, the kids did a lot of work and blessed a lot of people.
The Tigers Game
I had one day between the time I returned from Nashville and the day I went to a Tigers game with all of the Selph (and Joling) men, minus the two little guys, plus Troy, who fit right in. The game was before I got to change my hair back, so that was nice.
Heading back out of the stadium after a good Tigers' win.
Dan and I both bought capes off kids for $5 a piece. The kid I bought mine from was my nephew Cedric. Dan approached a total stranger with $5 and offered to buy his cape. He made it out without being arrested.
The Fourth of July
Look closely. I still hadn't had my hair updated yet. Poor Jakob was terrified this year. He was fine last year, but it took several minutes and lots of hugging for him to calm down. Strangely enough, it was the first time Sarah and I had ever gone to fireworks in downtown Grand Rapids. I lived there most of my life, but I always went somewhere else.
Despite his night filled with terror, Jakob did a great job on the way back to the car. We had to walk a mile and a half, and he held Sarah's hand the whole way without complaining or trying to pull away.
The Selph Invasion
How many Selphs (and Jolings) live in Michigan? I'm not sure, but of the ones I care about, there are 11. How many were in town the first week in July (counting those that were already there)? 25. We all migrated to my parents' house for one afternoon, and it was crazy.
Family Pictures
We are not allowed to all be in Michigan without getting a huge family picture taken. It's one of my mom's rules. But taking the pictures of all of us at once is a special job, and not everyone can do it. We had to call on Michael Elkins.
I can't believe I fell for this. Steve told me to make that face that Chris Farley makes during the Zaggat's skit. I didn't know till the next day what I had fallen for. Shame on me. I have to stay on point around my brothers.
This is pretty much how I was treated growing up.
Good pictures were taken, too, where I wasn't being made fun of and or left out.
That's everyone.
Jakob applauds Michael's photographic skills.
Wedding
I got to co-perform the wedding of Garren (who I've known since he was 3 years old and not 7 feet tall) and Lindsey with Jimmy, who was the youth pastor I interned for. It was a throwback for me. The groom, his best man, and his cousin (also in the wedding party) were all in my small group when I was just a young youth leader. Scott, Jimmy, and I were all leaders together (with Jimmy being the big boss of the time).
The 10th anniversary
Sarah and I have been married for 10 years as of a week ago today (August 17). We got married at the ripe old age of 19. We have gotten ten years of marriage and one child in before our 30th birthdays. Not too bad if you ask me.
For our first Christmas together as a married couple, Sarah and I went on a date to Tre Cugini. She's wanted to go back for several years now, but time, money, and sometimes geography has kept us away. We finally made it back.
Dang! My wife is pretty. Did you notice? Of course, you did. I surprised her with a tigers eye ring in a gold setting. In exchange, she's giving me a ring she bought at Claire's or Hot Topic that I really hate.
You didn't really think a fatty like me would pass on showing you what I ate, did you? I had a lamb shank with parmesan risotto. I cleaned that plate, leaving only the bone. Delicious.
South Haven Baptism
On Saturday, I got to baptize two friends, KC and Tree Folsom in South Haven. I have now baptized their entire family, which I think is kind of special. I have never baptized two people at once before (literally, one on each arm), and I really only did about 75% of the job on KC. He had to redunk himself to finish it off.
I know I look weird in this picture - like most pictures - but focus on Jakob. He loved the teeter totter in South Haven, and since it was all soft sand beneath him, Sarah allowed this to happen. He's pretty strong and has good balance, though, so she had no reason to be concerned.
"Camping"
We bought Jakob a sleeping bag, backpack, water bottle, and crappy flashlight on clearance last winter at Dick's Sporting Goods for $5. His sleeping bag looks like a football field. I had tried once before to get him to sleep in it, and it didn't work. Two nights ago, it did. We "camped" in his bedroom on the floor in our sleeping bags. It was one of the best moments of my Summer, since he just about fell asleep rubbing my face with his hand.
Gratuitous picture of nothing important
If you've made it this far, you must love me or my family, or you have little to do. To reward you, I give you this picture of a sign I saw in Jimmy John's bathroom. I believe it is the very sign ol' Steven Anderson was referring to in his infamous clip originally called, "Pisseth Against the Wall." I didn't even have to go all the way to Germany to see it.
And now you are caught up on my Summer to date. If I had been faithfully blogging all along, you would have gotten to read an individual post on everything above, but if I had been faithfully blogging, it would have taken thousands of words to get my point across. So, you're welcome.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Giants in the Land
When the Israelites came to the Promise Land the first time, they ultimately decided not to take it. Why? They were afraid, because there were giants in the land. So they left and wandered 40 years in the wilderness, where they lost their lives. They died for nothing. Had they followed God in faith, they would have taken the land, but their fear cost them the very thing they were afraid of losing.
Forty years later, a new group of leaders (with a couple of faithful carryovers) returned and had the same opportunity: take the land or die in the wilderness. They chose to seize the land, with God delivering victory for them. Here's a question that I don't think is asked often enough: when the Israelites returned forty years later, where were the giants? Had they moved out of the Promise Land? No, they were still there. In order to receive God's full promise, they were going to have to face some giants.
We don't encounter giants much today, at least not physical giants. And if we do encounter a physical giant, he probably plays basketball for millions of dollars, as opposed to dawning armor and threatening our existence in battle. Life's different now, but we still face giants.
Following God and inheriting His promises and blessings doesn't mean taking the easy road. Sometimes you will face giants in many forms: terrible bosses/co-workers, financial hardships, character attacks, illnesses, etc. There will be hardships. We know this going into it. Mark 8:34 (our memory verse for this month in KCC Kids) says, "Whoever wants to be my disciples must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
Would you deny yourself the comfort of avoiding giants in exchange for receiving what God has for you?
Forty years later, a new group of leaders (with a couple of faithful carryovers) returned and had the same opportunity: take the land or die in the wilderness. They chose to seize the land, with God delivering victory for them. Here's a question that I don't think is asked often enough: when the Israelites returned forty years later, where were the giants? Had they moved out of the Promise Land? No, they were still there. In order to receive God's full promise, they were going to have to face some giants.
We don't encounter giants much today, at least not physical giants. And if we do encounter a physical giant, he probably plays basketball for millions of dollars, as opposed to dawning armor and threatening our existence in battle. Life's different now, but we still face giants.
Following God and inheriting His promises and blessings doesn't mean taking the easy road. Sometimes you will face giants in many forms: terrible bosses/co-workers, financial hardships, character attacks, illnesses, etc. There will be hardships. We know this going into it. Mark 8:34 (our memory verse for this month in KCC Kids) says, "Whoever wants to be my disciples must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
Would you deny yourself the comfort of avoiding giants in exchange for receiving what God has for you?
Friday, June 24, 2011
Please pray for us
I am heading to Nashville tomorrow with 23 students and 6 adults. While we are there, we will be serving the community in different areas. This year will be different than last year, in that we will be working with preexisting charities and organizations.
Here's how you can pray for us:
- Safety as we travel
- Team Unity (no drama!)
- Big impact for Jesus in the community
- That the excitement will carry over when we return
To e-mail a camper, go to www.groupweekofhope.com, and click on “E-mail a Camper.” (It’s at the top right of the page.) Select, “Nashville, TN - Week of Hope” in the drop down box. Enter the name of the camper you want to e-mail. We will not be able to reply, but we will be blessed by your e-mail!
I would be remiss if I didn't give a shout out to an adopted YG friend, Marni White, who actually e-mailed all of our campers last year, knowing exactly 0 kids and leaders from my YG, and only knowing me so far as I let everyone into my life through Twitter and my blog (and now Facebook, because we're legit friends like that). But there's a challenge to you, KCC. A lady from Texas who has never met our students sent everyone an e-mail. Can you match her?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
take your kid out
This will be my final post for a while on making your kids feel special, not because there are only three ways, but because even my cyber attention span is short.
Take your kids out somewhere: out to eat, out for coffee (if they're not an already tightly wound 6-year old), out shopping for stuff they want. I'm not saying you should take all of your kids out at once and leave your spouse at home, although he/she may like the sound of that. Take them out as individuals, because they are individuals with unique personalities, ideas, and things they would like to talk to you about.
I did not like breakfast food much growing up, but there were few things I enjoyed more than every other Saturday morning when I was in middle school. Why? Because every other Saturday, I got to go to breakfast with my dad at the Cheshire Restaurant. My brother Dan went on the other weeks. I would eat toast with jelly. I don't remember ever getting anything else, because I wasn't into anything else by that point. It wasn't the food that made it enjoyable. It was spending time with my dad. He'd listen to whatever I wanted to talk about, answer my many questions about life and the Bible, and tell me how special I was to him.
Take your kid out. Taking your kid to work with you (so they can be additional/free labor), taking them shopping for school clothes that they do not like, and running errands with them doesn't really count for many kids. Remember: what you see as quality time may not be considered the same by your child. Just like what your spouse considers a nice evening out may not be the same thing you consider a nice evening out. Cater to your kids when you take them out. They're worth it.
Take your kids out somewhere: out to eat, out for coffee (if they're not an already tightly wound 6-year old), out shopping for stuff they want. I'm not saying you should take all of your kids out at once and leave your spouse at home, although he/she may like the sound of that. Take them out as individuals, because they are individuals with unique personalities, ideas, and things they would like to talk to you about.
I did not like breakfast food much growing up, but there were few things I enjoyed more than every other Saturday morning when I was in middle school. Why? Because every other Saturday, I got to go to breakfast with my dad at the Cheshire Restaurant. My brother Dan went on the other weeks. I would eat toast with jelly. I don't remember ever getting anything else, because I wasn't into anything else by that point. It wasn't the food that made it enjoyable. It was spending time with my dad. He'd listen to whatever I wanted to talk about, answer my many questions about life and the Bible, and tell me how special I was to him.
Take your kid out. Taking your kid to work with you (so they can be additional/free labor), taking them shopping for school clothes that they do not like, and running errands with them doesn't really count for many kids. Remember: what you see as quality time may not be considered the same by your child. Just like what your spouse considers a nice evening out may not be the same thing you consider a nice evening out. Cater to your kids when you take them out. They're worth it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
celebrate your kids
On Friday, I started a series of posts about making your kid feel special. Some of what I will write is based on my experience as my parents' child, and some is based on my experiences with Jakob, young as he is. Today, I continue that series with part two, and hopefully part three will post on Thursday. We will see.
My mom and dad were always my biggest fans growing up. They were totally into whatever I did, and not just because I'm their favorite. They supported my siblings in their ventures, too. At least one parent was at every game I ever played in my illustriously short sports career. They showed up for church related competition (yes, those existed, odd as it sounds). I don't think they ever missed a parent-teacher conference. My mom and dad even drove all the way to Florida to sit through a college graduation ceremony that was way too long and way too hot. They've always been in my corner.
My parents may have over-celebrated, or I may have taken their celebration too seriously. In my mind, I was a basketball god, a brick wall soccer goalie, and the greatest storyteller to ever pick up a Bible, an easel, and a stack of colored poster boards. As I grew older but not taller, I began to realize that my parents loved me and saw me a way no one else did. Despite my waning ability to keep up with others athletically, my parents didn't waver in their support. They weren't fair weathered fans, because no such thing truly exists. They were fans - fanatics - and their children made up their favorite team.
I think the most important part was that they celebrated my performance, not my victories. They taught me the values of winning and losing, and doing both with grace, but I never felt like they were let down by the losses. They always had something good to say about what I had done, regardless of outcome. My dad would always take me aside and tell me how I could do even better, as opposed to yelling at me at telling me how I had screwed up.
My parents still celebrate what I do. I know they'll read this, because they are still in my corner. The next time I preach in big church, I know they will be there. They are still excited and interested in my life. They have taught me the importance of celebrating my child. So if you see me clapping when Jakob obeys me, tries to open the door for Sarah, or just stands up after stumbling, don't think I'm too weird. I'm just starting early.
My mom and dad were always my biggest fans growing up. They were totally into whatever I did, and not just because I'm their favorite. They supported my siblings in their ventures, too. At least one parent was at every game I ever played in my illustriously short sports career. They showed up for church related competition (yes, those existed, odd as it sounds). I don't think they ever missed a parent-teacher conference. My mom and dad even drove all the way to Florida to sit through a college graduation ceremony that was way too long and way too hot. They've always been in my corner.
My parents may have over-celebrated, or I may have taken their celebration too seriously. In my mind, I was a basketball god, a brick wall soccer goalie, and the greatest storyteller to ever pick up a Bible, an easel, and a stack of colored poster boards. As I grew older but not taller, I began to realize that my parents loved me and saw me a way no one else did. Despite my waning ability to keep up with others athletically, my parents didn't waver in their support. They weren't fair weathered fans, because no such thing truly exists. They were fans - fanatics - and their children made up their favorite team.
I think the most important part was that they celebrated my performance, not my victories. They taught me the values of winning and losing, and doing both with grace, but I never felt like they were let down by the losses. They always had something good to say about what I had done, regardless of outcome. My dad would always take me aside and tell me how I could do even better, as opposed to yelling at me at telling me how I had screwed up.
My parents still celebrate what I do. I know they'll read this, because they are still in my corner. The next time I preach in big church, I know they will be there. They are still excited and interested in my life. They have taught me the importance of celebrating my child. So if you see me clapping when Jakob obeys me, tries to open the door for Sarah, or just stands up after stumbling, don't think I'm too weird. I'm just starting early.
Friday, June 17, 2011
talk about your kids
I want to try to post a small series of ways you can make your children feel special, based on my experience being raised by my mom and dad.
Parents do not struggle to talk about their kids. I sometimes get the feeling that some people take joy in talking negatively about their kids, like it's almost cathartic for them. When I say, "talk about your kids," I'm obviously not speaking of this nonsense. In fact, I highly discourage you talk about your kids in a negative light to other people, because they just may find out what you're saying about them.
I heard what my dad said about me. He didn't know I was in the room and listening, but I was. I stopped what I was doing to listen. My dad has taught Sunday school for years, and for a long time, his class met in the auditorium. I joined the tech ministry at our church, which meant I had to leave my class early to go set up the computer, which was located in the balcony of the main auditorium. So I would listen to my dad teach, because I think he's funny and interesting. I had been sitting through the second half of his class for weeks, and I never told him. It just didn't occur to me to tell him. Then one Sunday, I'm half listening and half paying attention to the pastor's powerpoint presentation, to make sure it was legible (God bless him, he must have really liked the colors blue and red, because he had red text on dark blue backgrounds a lot. That's not very legible). So as I'm updating the color scheme, I hear my dad say my name, so I stopped and listened. He wanted to tell his class about me.
I don't know what my dad was teaching about that day, but I assume it had to do with love or marriage. He wanted to give his class an example of how a husband should love his wife, and he chose me. He talked about how much he had seen me grow, how I was someone anyone could look up to - even him - and how I lived out the verses in Ephesians about a man loving his wife like Christ loved the church. I sat in stone silence, mouth slightly agape, listening to the man I've always looked up to more than anyone telling his Sunday school class - comprised of mostly senior citizens - that I was someone to look up to and follow. I had tears in my eyes. That was the day I told him that I had been attending his Sunday school for weeks, and I thanked him for what he said.
He reminded me that he had said those same things to my face a number of times, but somehow, hearing him talk about me meant more than hearing him talk to me. He could have said anything. He could have said nothing at all. He chose to praise me to his peers.
Why do I talk about Jakob so much? Because I hope he one day remembers the first time he noticed that I talk about him. And I'm very careful about what I say about him, because I want that to be a great memory for him, just as it was for me.
Happy Father's Day, especially to my dad, John Selph. If only all dads could be like him.
Parents do not struggle to talk about their kids. I sometimes get the feeling that some people take joy in talking negatively about their kids, like it's almost cathartic for them. When I say, "talk about your kids," I'm obviously not speaking of this nonsense. In fact, I highly discourage you talk about your kids in a negative light to other people, because they just may find out what you're saying about them.
I heard what my dad said about me. He didn't know I was in the room and listening, but I was. I stopped what I was doing to listen. My dad has taught Sunday school for years, and for a long time, his class met in the auditorium. I joined the tech ministry at our church, which meant I had to leave my class early to go set up the computer, which was located in the balcony of the main auditorium. So I would listen to my dad teach, because I think he's funny and interesting. I had been sitting through the second half of his class for weeks, and I never told him. It just didn't occur to me to tell him. Then one Sunday, I'm half listening and half paying attention to the pastor's powerpoint presentation, to make sure it was legible (God bless him, he must have really liked the colors blue and red, because he had red text on dark blue backgrounds a lot. That's not very legible). So as I'm updating the color scheme, I hear my dad say my name, so I stopped and listened. He wanted to tell his class about me.
I don't know what my dad was teaching about that day, but I assume it had to do with love or marriage. He wanted to give his class an example of how a husband should love his wife, and he chose me. He talked about how much he had seen me grow, how I was someone anyone could look up to - even him - and how I lived out the verses in Ephesians about a man loving his wife like Christ loved the church. I sat in stone silence, mouth slightly agape, listening to the man I've always looked up to more than anyone telling his Sunday school class - comprised of mostly senior citizens - that I was someone to look up to and follow. I had tears in my eyes. That was the day I told him that I had been attending his Sunday school for weeks, and I thanked him for what he said.
He reminded me that he had said those same things to my face a number of times, but somehow, hearing him talk about me meant more than hearing him talk to me. He could have said anything. He could have said nothing at all. He chose to praise me to his peers.
Why do I talk about Jakob so much? Because I hope he one day remembers the first time he noticed that I talk about him. And I'm very careful about what I say about him, because I want that to be a great memory for him, just as it was for me.
Happy Father's Day, especially to my dad, John Selph. If only all dads could be like him.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Twenty Years Behind (they stole my childhood)
E.T. is a classic movie. Everyone recognizes its imagery, quotes, and candies. It has been seen by millions, and on Friday, it was finally seen by one more: me. I had always wanted to see it, but I never had. As I've told people that I hadn't seen it before Friday, I've gotten pretty much the same reaction from each of them: a look of dismay, maybe even pity, and the inevitable question: "What do you mean you'd never seen it before?" It's not that my friends aren't smart and struggle to understand what I meant by my simply crafted sentence. Not seeing E.T., the biggest kids movie maybe ever, even though it came out in the 80's when I was a kid, is what an unbelieving world finds so unbelievable (or something like that).
So why didn't I see E.T. before Friday night? There are a number of guesses one might have. I'm pretty sure I know the answer, if not specifically, at least in general: evangelists. Evangelists stole my childhood. I don't dislike all evangelists, mind you. I love one in particular. But in general, I have never really been a big fan of them. Our pastor would announce that some hotshot evangelist was coming, maybe a recognizable name to many of the adults, and I would shake on the inside like my dog shakes when, well, she's awake. I knew I was going to lose something, and it was probably going to be something I loved. They never talked about stupid stuff, like the evils of Little House on the Prairie or The Waltons. Then my mom would have felt my pain, as her beloved shows were taken from her on merely on the whim of a dude in a black suit.
I am twenty years behind on some things. I have caught up with E.T. finally, but there are still cultural lags. If I go see the Smurfs this Summer, I may not know exactly what's going on. Classic rock stations can just be called rock stations, because for me, most of it is new stuff. My secular music knowledge takes a break after the Monkees and Roy Orbison and picks up again about three years ago.
Just for fun, here is a list of things I lost at the hands of an evangelist(s):
- E.T. (I could not confirm with my parents, as they were unavailable for comment. That is to say, they did not answer when I called them this morning.)
- Ninja Turtles
- He-Man
- Smurfs
- Halloween/trick-or-treating
- Good music (at least they protected me from the Christian rock of the 80's)
- X-Men (they deserve credit for pegging the evolutionary undertones, but still)
- The Ultimate Warrior (only briefly, as my dad was also a big WWF fan)
- Beauty and the Beast (not a huge loss, but a huge stretch on the bestiality claims)
- my childhood
Oh well. I got to see E.T. in a theater on Friday, and it was like going to see a brand new movie for only $4 a ticket. I guess I should thank somebody.
And just in case you're wondering, I don't blame my parents for much of anything. They did what they believed was in my best interest spiritually. They are great parents that have always cared about me.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
five things I'm excited about
This Summer is going to be hectic. The weeks leading up to Summer have been crazy enough. So partly because of that, and partly because I'm a little lazy and uninspired when it comes to writing, I haven't written much. Well, to be fair, I have expressed myself wonderfully at least once per week, and then I delete the post at the end, because I don't want to deal with the reactions. It's easier that way. I guess I could save drafts, edit them, and post a more palatable version, but writing unedited and deleting at the end is more therapeutic (and less hassle) for me. So, just in case you're wondering (and you're not) what I'm up to or will be doing this Summer, here are five things I'm excited about.
1. Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy
Two weeks from Friday, I'm taking Sarah to see Jonny Lang. Buddy Guy is great, but he's not a household favorite, so we're not as excited to see him. We managed to get tickets for $15 each after ridiculous fees to see him. We're going with our friends Todd and Amanda.
2. Mission Trip to Nashville
The next day, I'm leaving with a bunch of students and adults to go to Nashville. We'll be serving in the community down there for a week. This is made more exciting by number 3.
3. Eating at Chick-Fil-A at least five times when I'm in Nashville.
Delicious.
4. Family time.
You thought about skipping this, because you assumed I was going to talk about Sarah and Jakob. Well, you're wrong. I'm not going to talk about how awesome they are and how much I love them. Instead, I'm excited that I will see all of my siblings, nephews, and nieces at once for the first time since 2006. Three of them didn't even exist yet (Pepper, Jakob, and Gabe <--birth order). The men are going to a Tigers game, and then we're getting family pictures done later in the week. It should be glorious!
5. 10th anniversary festivities
This year, we will have been married ten years. We cannot afford to do some of the things we'd like to do, so I'm getting creative. Can't tell you how, because Sarah doesn't know, but it will be majestic.
1. Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy
Two weeks from Friday, I'm taking Sarah to see Jonny Lang. Buddy Guy is great, but he's not a household favorite, so we're not as excited to see him. We managed to get tickets for $15 each after ridiculous fees to see him. We're going with our friends Todd and Amanda.
2. Mission Trip to Nashville
The next day, I'm leaving with a bunch of students and adults to go to Nashville. We'll be serving in the community down there for a week. This is made more exciting by number 3.
3. Eating at Chick-Fil-A at least five times when I'm in Nashville.
Delicious.
4. Family time.
You thought about skipping this, because you assumed I was going to talk about Sarah and Jakob. Well, you're wrong. I'm not going to talk about how awesome they are and how much I love them. Instead, I'm excited that I will see all of my siblings, nephews, and nieces at once for the first time since 2006. Three of them didn't even exist yet (Pepper, Jakob, and Gabe <--birth order). The men are going to a Tigers game, and then we're getting family pictures done later in the week. It should be glorious!
5. 10th anniversary festivities
This year, we will have been married ten years. We cannot afford to do some of the things we'd like to do, so I'm getting creative. Can't tell you how, because Sarah doesn't know, but it will be majestic.
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