Category: My Family

Our House Is Too Quiet

Oc
Last night, we drove away, leaving our daughter in Oklahoma City.  She is about to begin her sophomore year in college.  The weekend was a swirl. 

There is nothing quite like moving into a dorm room when the temperature is 105 degrees outside.  We moved all of her "stuff" in.  Lots of stuff.  Shoes.  OK–I know–I’m a guy.  But I don’t even begin to understand all these shoes.  I’ve got black shoes.  I’ve got brown shoes.  I’ve got casual shoes.  I’ve got running shoes.  That doesn’t begin to describe the shoes I brought into that dorm room.  My sweet girl has variety.

The cousins were there.  She is actually going to college with three cousins.  Amazing.   We met lots of friends.  Her new roommate, with whom we were very impressed.  And–the girls next door (who were in our home not long ago).   Yet, we were impressed with you as well.

This morning, I have been thinking about her.  What would I like for her to know?  (By the way, I think these are important for all of our children.)

1.  I want her to know I have great confidence in her.   I believe in her.  I believe she loves God and desires to live in his will.  I believe her heart is right.  Perfect?  No.  Neither is her daddy’s.  But I do believe in her.  (I also believe we all need for someone to believe in us.)    

2.  I want her to know I pray for her every day and usually several times a day.  I believe that God is at work in her life as a result of my prayers and the prayers of many others.  I believe God causes things to happen in her life that I have prayed for.  (By the way, moms and dads, if you are not praying for your children every day, who is?  I believe that praying for my children is one the most important things I do as a parent).

3.  I want her to know I pray for her friends and for her professors.   I know some of the names and faces.  Others, I just know the names.  I pray for them as well.   Today, I will begin by praying for her new roommate and the girls next door.

4.  I want her to know she is not alone.  God, in his tender mercy, is with her.  She will not have to be alone–not for a single moment.  He is faithful and will never leave her or forsake her.   She may feel stress, pressure, disappointment, or anxiety, but his reassuring presence gives hope.   His love for her is constant and forever.

A special time of life?  Yes.  For that I’m grateful.

But today, I already miss her.  Today, the house is a little too quiet.

The Guy With the Pony Tail

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The guy with the pony tail went to the platform.

This happened in Austin last week.  I was attending the annual Sermon Seminar at the Austin Graduate School of Theology.  I knew his name but had never met him.  He is a former tenured college professor who left that world to start and run a Christian retreat center.  Now he was on the platform telling us all about this center.  I don’t remember the details.  What I do remember is that he said he wanted to build a "safe place."  He referred to himself and to the pony tail.  He said he finally stopped worrying about what other people were thinking.  He then said something like, "Ministers need a safe place." 

Well, he is right.  But not just ministers.  We all need a safe place.  All of us.

I don’t remember much about my early years.  First–second–third grades.  They are kind of a blur in my life’s rear view mirror.  One of the moments I do remember happened when I announced to a couple of people that I liked this girl (whatever that meant).  When I said that, one of these people rushed to an adult to tell him.  He began laughing.  To this day, I can still remember blushing with shame, feeling like I had done something very silly or embarrassing.  It sure didn’t feel safe anymore.

Later on, I can remember having questions regarding sex.  Not the "How does the plumbing work?" kind of questions.  Rather, "What am I supposed to do with these desires, thoughts, urges, etc.?  Who does a guy talk with?"  At that time, I sure didn’t know.  Who is safe?

When I was at the University of North Texas, years ago, I stumbled upon a book by John Powell entitled, "Why am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?"  I don’t remember a thing about the book.  But the title was unforgettable.  The title still reminds me that we all need a safe place.

You might just think with me about the possibility of being a safe place for another person(s).

Safe people encourage.  They don’t say things to make you feel stupid.  Haven’t you been there?  Several people are talking about a particular celebrity, athlete, musician, etc.  You ask, "Who is she?  I’ve never heard of her."  Hopefully your friends are gracious and simply explain who the person is.  (Safe people)  But then some guy (or woman) has to say, "YOU DON"T KNOW WHO SHE IS?  Where have you been?  You need to get out more?  I can’t believe you don’t know her!"  (How small, unsafe, and terribly ungracious).

Safe people allow you to talk about what is on your heart.  They will listen to your frustration, your anger, and your dislikes.  They are not quick to dismiss what you are saying.  Meanwhile, others get defensive and argumentative.  They may tell you that, "You shouldn’t feel this way."

Safe people will keep what you have said to themselves.  They do not repeat to others what you have said in confidence.  Do you know someone who you trust with your thoughts or with your feelings?  I find that I tend to measure my words around people who talk about others in their conversations.  I think it is because I suspect they may repeat what I have said when I am not around.  It is so awkward to tell a friend something you are struggling with and in a week, the guy’s wife has told a friend who then tells my wife.   (This actually happened.)  I felt disappointed and let down because I realized that I had to watch what I told this guy.

There is something to be said for having a "safe" friend and for being a "safe" person.  Isn’t there?
   

Why Are Men Often Silent? (Part 3)

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You’ve been patient with these posts on men and silence.  This will conclude this series.  I want to mention a few things that have been helpful to me in countering an unhealthy silence.  I have put each one of these in the form of a suggestion.  You can probably think of many that I do not mention.

1.  I need to look for opportunities to encourage each child.  I found that it means a great deal to my children for me to catch them doing things right.  They respond well when I point out their good traits, their good habits, and good aspects about their behavior and character.   Sometimes, we parents get far too focused on the negative, while we say nothing about the good.  (I have been guilty of this at times.)

2.  The remedy for the silent man is not to be found in making long, verbal statements to my child.  More words does not mean that I am really communicating.

3.  I need to consider creative ways to bless my child.  Leave an encouraging note on the bathroom mirror.  "You are just right!"  "You are a wonderful daughter."  Or perhaps leave a note with a Scripture verse on it.  Not long ago I sent my married, adult child an e-mail entitled, "Five Wonderful Things about Christine." 

4.  Know that and be assured that deep down my children really want to be close to their dad.  This can be difficult when they begin adolescence and you feel like they are pushing you away.  The weird thing about adolescence is that sometimes they will be pushing you away while inwardly wanting you to be near.

5.  My children need for me to be more than a friend.  I want to be a friend to each of my children.  Yet, they need more than another friend.  They need a dad.  Some parents have abandoned their parent role because they wanted to be liked by their children and seen as friends.  In the long run, these children lose.

6. I need to show some interest in some of the things that interest them.  Are they listening to some music that you like?  Is there a game or team they have shown some interest in?  Have they expressed an interest in developing a certain skill?  My younger daughter, Jamie, will occasionally say to me, "Dad, have you heard this group?  I think you would like them."  And, so often she is right.

7.  It is important that I respect them.  Yes, I know they should respect their parents.  However, this goes in both directions.  Respecting my children means that I NEVER seek to embarrass or humiliate them in front of their friends or mine.  Respecting my children means that I do not point out their faults for others to see.  My humor does not need to come at their expense.  Showing respect for my children means that on occasion I might point out their strengths or good traits to others.  "Yes, Mark has always been a Civil War buff.  He knows much more than I do about those battles."

When we break the silence, we look out for their needs and refuse to settle for whatever might be  comfortable for ourselves. 

When we  break the silence, we communicate to our children that they are not alone in this world to fend for themselves.

When we break the silence, we communicate that the worth of our daughter or son has nothing to do with being in the right group, having athletic ability, or having parents who have money. 

When we break the silence, we communicate a sense of "OK-ness."  We communicate that they are created in the image of God and that they are worth something. 

When we break the silence, we communicate that they matter to God, to their family, and to others in this world.

Where does this begin?  With intent and with prayer.  Our children will be blessed.

Why Are Men Often Silent? (Part 2)

Silence1
I am writing this on Memorial Day morning.  It is early in the morning.  When I got up, I met youngest daughter and her very good friend in the kitchen (the daughter of good friends).  They had been in our house during the night.  They had not slept yet.  (Other friends left about thirty minutes earlier.)  All are home from college.  All were in our house during the night, talking and laughing.  That is the youngest daughter.

Oldest daughter called last night.  She and her husband just got back from Florida.  They live in Murfreesboro, Tenn. just outside of Nashville.  They went to Florida with friends and had a wonderful time.  (She tells me in detail every kind of fish they had for dinner over the weekend!  I’m a little jealous.)  That is the oldest daughter.

Both daughters were raised by a dad who knew something about silent men.  Yet, early on, I wanted them to feel a strong sense of connection with me as their dad.  We began doing something early on that has continued for years.  When they were still very small, I would take each daughter on "special days."  Basically, that meant I would take a daughter to McDonald’s or Hardee’s for breakfast.  (Charlotte, my wife, would not be with us, nor would the other daughter).  This breakfast would be unhurried and leisurely.  Again, we started this when they were very young.  I have memories of one of them, Christine, having a long discussion with me as to how to get more jelly if you wanted it.  Jamie, about three years old, once smeared a mirror in McDonald’s with grape jelly.  Most of all this was a time just for them.  No cell phones.  No sitting with people who happened to be there who we knew from church or elsewhere.  (I have no idea why we began calling these occasions "special days.")

We did this for many years even through their high school and college years.  Now there were a few changes.  Breakfast became lunch.  McDonald’s became Chili’s.  However, the purpose was the same.  This was a time where each daughter would receive my undivided attention.  I learned, as my daughters grew older, that this time was important to them as well.  Having this special time was one way of not being silent.

The greater challenge in raising my daughters has been day to day life.  Far too many dads start off well with their daughters.  However, when they become adolescents, the relationship with their dads sometimes weakens.   Their bodies, emotions, etc. are changing.  It can be a confusing and stressful time for a girl.  Dads don’t know what to do, so sometimes they pull away.  They back off and (unintentionally) create distance.  This is the last thing these girls need at this point in their lives.  By the way–I didn’t know what to do either.  Yet, I tried to stay connected while learning what to do.  No, it is not easy.  Still, it is so important to stay connected.

This is probably obvious but the issue of the silent male is much broader than a relationship with sons or daughters.  This silence can be a real difficult issue in marriage.  This silence can interfere with work.   This silence can get in the way of friendships.  Remember this is not about a change in personality.  Rather, it is a refusal to stay in the comfortable, safe rut of silence and passivity.

Everything I just wrote reflects years of my own intent and prayer.  At times, getting beyond silence has been difficult.  If this doesn’t "feel" natural for you, perhaps I can relate.  I will tell you that the Lord has blessed my imperfect attempt to stay connected with my daughters. 

Let me encourage you not to yield to the temptation to be silent.  You will bless your children by refusing to be silent and passive. This means being intentional.  By the grace of God and through much prayer, your children will be blessed.

What do you think?

Why Are Men Often Silent? (Part 1)

Homealone
"That’s my dad over there."  I looked and finally saw the gray hair gentleman sitting at a table, waiting for the next lecture to begin.  We were all at a preaching seminar in Austin.  (I was there Monday through Wednesday of this week).  The break was almost over and I was talking to a younger guy who I have known for a few years.  Seeing them together reminded me of a gathering a few years ago, where a friend of mine (a minister) brought his dad, who was also a long time minister.  It seemed that both of these guys had special relationships with their dads.

 

On the other hand, far too many males, are gripped by by the "Silence of Adam." (To borrow a book title from Larry Crabb).  Many males are passive.  They are emotionally distant from their children.  They tend not to be engaged emotionally with their sons or daughters.  It is not that they say the wrong thing to their children.  They just say nothing.

 

I hear the stories from lots of men.  Some of these guys had fathers who were (are) disengaged from them emotionally.  Sons in particular long for a "well done" from their dads.  Many guys never receive this.  Instead, they get silence. 

The silent father may never gives his son or daughter a "well done." The silent father may not allow his children see or know his heart. The silent father might back away from his children (emotionally) as they become adolescents.

 

This is one reason why the movie "Field of Dreams" was so emotional for a lot of guys.  There was a scene in the movie in which Kevin Costner steps onto the baseball field behind his house.  Out of the cornfield (which surrounds the ball field), comes his father.  Now his father had been dead for many years.  But at this moment, his dad has come back as a young man again.  He is dressed in a baseball uniform and is wearing a baseball glove.  Costner steps onto the field and realizes this is his dad.  There are few words spoken and then they begin to play "catch."  I was with a group a guys a number of years ago when this scene from the movie was being shown.  It was emotional for many of these guys–especially those who longed to connect with their Dads.  It was an emotional moment for me as well.

 

I don’t have sons but I do have two wonderful daughters.  When they were small, very small, I began thinking about this.  I did not want them to grow up with a silent dad.  Yet, I knew that silence would be the easiest way for me to function:

 

Silence is safe.
Silence is low risk.
Silence requires little or no vulnerability.

Y

es, silence does feel safe–for me.  But for children, silence can be deadly.  A dad’s passivity and silence leaves a daughter or son or feeling alone and wondering if she or he is "OK".   A girl may grow up longing to hear from her dad that she is just right.  She may wonder about her competence, her beauty, or her worth in general as a young woman. 

 

Meanwhile, a young man may wonder about his competence as well.  He may wonder if he is an "OK" guy or if he is "different" from other guys.  He may wonder if he really measures up.  He sees other guys who are close to their dads and wonders why he and his dad are not close.  He is left to fend for himself in the confusing world of adolescence.  He is left as a boy to figure out his questions, his sexual desires, and the pressures he is feeling.  He may grow up with an emptiness and longing to hear a "well done."  Or, he may grow up and just become silent himself, repeating the deadly cycle all over again.

 

Thankfully, we are not doomed to repeat this cycle.  But–it must be intentional.  I can tell you this does not come "naturally" for me with my two daughters.   It has taken work, intent, and years of prayer.  It has taken a willingness to be uncomfortable at times in order to be the dad they needed me to be.  More later…

 

A Night to Forget

Faucet_3
There are a few days and nights that I would just as soon forget.

 

On of these occurred in Memphis, Tennessee a number of years ago.  I had just finished some exams for my Doctor of Ministry work at Harding Graduate School.  It was Thursday evening and I was going to stay over at a friend’s apartment. (We were living in Alabama at the time).  The friend worked at Federal Express.  He got off work at midnight.  I got to his apartment about 8:00 PM, I brought in a pizza and got ready to watch a football game on television.

 

 

I stepped into the restroom to wash my hands and the facet just broke off.  Water went everywhere.  I quickly looked under the sink for a cut-off.  NO CUTOFF!  OH GREAT!  Meanwhile, the sink quickly filled and then spilled on to the floor and then a river began to head toward the adjacent room.  I ran to the telephone and called the apartment office.  No answer. 

 

I saw a vacuum cleaner and removed the hose.  I then sat on the commode lid with one end of the hose on top of the broken faucet, catching the water and the other end of the hose pointed toward the bathtub.  One arm stretched to the right catching the water.  The other arm stretched to the left, holding the other end of the hose toward the tub.   This is just great!! 

 

Then someone started pounding on the door to the apartment.  I yelled for the person to come in. He opened the door and yelled something about water coming into his apartment.  He then cames into the bathroom, where I was sitting on a commode lid holding the vacuum cleaner hose.  He was drunk.   When he saw the river of water beginning to cover my friends bedroom, he screamed a string of profanities.  He went outside to find a cut-off but couldn’t find one.  So–he went to find some manager who was supposed to be in this huge complex somewhere.

 

Meanwhile, I was in this bathroom, sitting on a commode lid, holding a vacuum cleaner hose.  One hand holding it on the broken facet.  The other hand holding the other end as it drained into the bathtub. 

 

Then, the self-pity started:

 

  • The Dallas Cowboys are playing a Thursday night game on television.
  • I have a pizza in the kitchen I haven’t touched.
  • My friend’s apartment is being flooded by water.
  • My friend is coming home from work at midnight and he will be greeted by this river of water.
  • I am sitting on a commode lid, one arm stretched to the right, the other arm stretched to the left, holding the end of a vacuum cleaner hose in each hand, depending on a drunk guy to get help.

 

How long is eternity?  That night, I think I found a new example.  I felt like I waited FOREVER for the drunk guy to return.  Finally, about midnight, the apartment maintenance man came in with the drunk guy following him, cussing at him for not having a cut-off nearby.  The guy turned the water off outside and I surveyed the damage.

 

A few minutes later, my friend, who had just got off work, walked into his apartment.  He listened as his feet made a squishing sound with every step.  "Uhhh, let me explain."  He said he had called the manager several times earlier in the week to get the facet fixed.  Now he was aggravated with the manager.

 

Meanwhile, I sat down to eat cold pizza that had arrived four hours earlier.  This was the end of a "terrible, horrible, no-good day."  🙂

iPods and Ruts…

Mutinrut
Today, being Friday, I am off.  I will spend most of the afternoon in Dallas with my mom at Ashley’s Court, the rehab place where she has been for almost two weeks. 

Ashley’s Court is off Oaklawn in the heart of the Lemmon/Oaklawn part of Dallas.  I have memories of this area.  When I was a junior in college (The University of North Texas), I decided I was going to quit school.  School was out for the summer and since I was going to quit anyway, I got an apartment.  I was working nights at UPS, loading trucks.  Of course, it takes a lot of money to maintain an apartment and car, etc.  So, I worked all day as well (Hunt Oil Company) in downtown Dallas.  By the end of the summer, after working day and night just to pay rent and a car payment, I decided that this lifestyle would never work.  So–I was motivated at that point to finish school.

Now, thirty years later, this area in many ways is the same and in many ways is very different.  Lots of stores, restaurants, business, people, a huge gay population, etc.  Urban.  The week before last, I spent some time in a la Madeline on Lemmon, with a cup of coffee and a book.  It was interesting–very interesting as I would catch pieces of conversations here and there.

Putting myself in different environments helps me think–really think.  If I am always home, always in the same environments, etc. everything seems to predictable.  Too much predictability only seems to deepen my ruts.  The older I get, the more intentional I have to get about staying out of a rut. 

Doing repetitive work or tasks of some kind is not necessarily bad.  I do not, however, want to get to a point in my life where I am mindless.  "Living" (I question the use of that word in this instance) on automatic.

I use an iPod.  I listen to some podcasts, music, sermon messages, news, etc.  It has been very helpful in a lot of ways.  All of this, as you probably know, is downloaded off the Internet.  I choose what I download.  The other day I was thinking, "Why am I downloading this?  Is this material going to interesting, helpful, stimulating, or enjoyable in some way?  Or—am I doing this because I did this the week before and the week before that." 

I do not want to live or die in a rut.  Today, I want to choose to be alive.

Just thinking—

Pizza, College Students, and a Reason to Be Thankful

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For the last few day, I have been at Oklahoma Christian University in Edmond, Oklahoma.   I spoke on Monday afternoon and last night went with Jamie, (my youngest who is a freshmen there) and some of her friends to Hideaway Pizza for some wonderful pizza.  I am leaving for Waco in the morning but have some things to be thankful for:

 

1.  For having the opportunity to get acquainted with some more of Jamie’s friends.  They were from Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri (soon to be Canada).  I was impressed with Courtney, Ashley, Kendra, Jayce, and Ally.  Sweet girls each of whom has blessed Jamie’s life in some way.  (Very funny too!  Jamie wanted them to hear the ring tone on my cell phone.  Uhhh–I changed that one after what they said!)

 

2.  For having the opportunity to hear Dr. Chip Kooi, a fine theologian and Bible professor at Oklahoma Christian.  I heard Chip speak on a subject related to spirituality and its importance.  A fine presentation.

 

3.  For an enjoyable time talking with a group of preachers about preaching on Monday afternoon.  Now that was humbling!  I’ve had some opportunities like this before.  However, the idea of talking to preachers about preaching is a little daunting.

 

4.  For such an enjoyable experience of worship at "The View" on Monday evening with a large group of college students.  THAT was good!  It has been awhile since I have enjoyed a worship experience like that.  What would that be like on Sunday mornings?

 

5.  For the opportunity to put names with faces.  Students and professors.  Also seeing places my daughter has talked about.  "Ted’s" Mexican food.  Panera Bread.  The Coffee Shop (on campus).

 

It was just a couple of days at the university but I came away feeling very thankful that my daughter is here.

We Each Live in Our Own World

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I was asleep in the room on a recliner.  Actually this was a recliner that unfolded.  It was quite comfortable and I was sleeping soundly.  Sometime in the middle of the night, a woman slipped into the room.  I sensed someone was walking by me and raised my head to see what was happening.  She whispered in broken English as she walked by, "It’s OK, I will just be a moment."

 

In the bed across the room lay my 81 year old mother.  She had hip replacement surgery this past week at Baylor Medical Center in Dallas.  This nurse was entering the room in the night to check on her. 

 

Many of you have been there.  You’ve had a medical crisis.  You or your family members have been through surgeries. Maybe you’ve been in the hospital or perhaps you have been with someone else who has.  It is a different world.  Last week, I was immersed in that world.  I came away so thankful for the following people:

 

  • Wonderful nurses like Molly, Cindy, Scott, and so many others on the 6th floor of the Truett Building at Baylor Medical Center.
  • Tech people who served in so many practical and helpful ways.
  • The Physical Therapy people.  Stan the PT who was patient and skillful.  Barry, who told my mother that he liked her spunk and got her to laugh.
  • The "blood guy" (who referred to himself as "Quick Draw") who came in the middle of the night and managed to get a sample of blood quickly and without pain.
  • Vonda, the social worker, who was so helpful in finding a rehab facility and taking care of many details related to locating the facility.
  • Jessie Stroup who visited my mother on several occasions.  I’m thankful for the surprise of seeing Jessie get off the elevator onto the 6th floor.  He is a long time friend who I had not seen one another in many years.  He is now a chaplain for Baylor and Parkland Hospitals.

 

I say all of this not as news or having some great insight.  No, I mention this because many people do similar work and often receive little recognition or appreciation.

You may have a job like that.  You may go to work, day after day, feeling ignored and unappreciated.  Yet, God knows.  God sees how you work with integrity and care.  That really does matter.

What Happens after Christmas?

Coffeecup_bwWe got back last night after a 13 hour drive…Now that is a long drive.  Straight through from Murfreesboro, Tennessee to Waco.  I will remember that drive for two reasons.  First, our daughter Jamie slept almost the entire way.  That is a long nap.  But I will also remember that drive because we were trying to listen to the Cotton Bowl game (Alabama versus Texas Tech) on the radio.  We lived in Alabama almost eight years and my wife grew up there.  So…we really wanted to hear it.  We picked up the game for a from a station out of Little Rock.  Many miles later, we lost the game again.  We finally picked it up again on ESPN out of Dallas and heard the exciting finish.

 

Now we are home…So what happens after Christmas?

 

You know.  The tree is put away.  Ornaments and nativity scenes back in their boxes.  The lights are placed into boxes.  Christmas cards stop coming.  Time to go back to work.

 

Yet, I am not quite the same.  After all, we checked out of our normal routine for a week.  We traveled to Florence, Alabama where my wife is from and later where we live for almost eight years.
We went to Murfreesboro, Tennessee where our newly wed daughter Christine lives with her husband Phillip.

 

  • On Christmas morning, we went to church with my mother-in-law, her first time there after having a stroke a number of months ago.
  • The opportunity to spend time with two wonderful brother-in-laws and sister-in-laws.
  • Having dinner one night with old friends, people who I rarely get to see but whose loyalty and friendship have been demonstrated again and again.
  • An after Christmas day breakfast with old friends.
  • The annual football game featuring the cousins (male and female) and the uncles. Keith, Charles and I won this year.  I think we left Andy, Stephanie, and Jamie in the dust.  (Or I would like to think so anyway).
  • Seeing a woman and her son at the mall who we knew years ago.  Two people who I have not seen in over 15 years.
  • Being with our sweet daughter Christine and her wonderful husband Phillip in their new home.
  • Being with Charlotte’s mother as she recuperates from a stroke.
  • Seeing my own parents in Dallas on the return trip.

 

I could go on for a few minutes but I don’t want to bore you.  I just know I am better for these experiences. 

 

Now it is time to return to work and to familar habits.  Yet, it is not the same.  I am a little different.   I remember once again I am deeply loved by family and friends.  I am thankful for people whose love is constant and whose friendship has lasted decades.