Brendan's dedication

A Whole Nother Story

It's been awhile, but it is time for another Martin family book review. This time we look at a quirky title, A Whole Nother Story, by a quirky author, Dr. Cuthbert Soup. Once again these are based on a five star rating. Be sure to check out other reviews (look at the labels to the right or at the bottom of this post for Martin Family book reviews).

Tanner 5 stars. It was absolutely hilarious.

Blake 4 stars. I laughed a ton, but there were some places that were depressing

Patsy 4.5 stars. The only thing that was funnier than the story was the unsolicited advice at the end of each chapter.

Marty 4 stars. Be careful when you read this if you are drinking milk. You might squirt some through your nose you'll laugh so hard! Parents of the Christian faith might need to talk through a couple of elements with their kids, like a psychic dog and a fortune teller. Otherwise the message is very positive!

Psalm 24:1

Since I first started in children's ministry I have wholeheartedly embraced the concept of Bible verse memory for kids (its great for adults too, learn with your kids!). How much more dynamic is that concept when it is initiated by dad? There is a power in fatherhood that is so often untapped. Combined with the power of God's word and it is explosive!

A little slice of Americana

There are lots of things I love about living in a little town like Cambridge. Sure you have to drive 15 minutes to a Walmart or to see a movie or to go to a nice restaurant (We do have a Subway and Dollar General in Cambridge though!). Yes sometimes the locals are a little suspicious of you, but here in Cambridge that is really not a big issue, unlike the city 1o miles to the north.

But all that is more than worth the trade off for me. I love sitting on the back porch working and hearing nothing but the cicadas and a dog barking somewhere in the distance while my kids play in the sprinkler (it is what I am doing now). I love how you can see so many stars at night and how you can tell your kids they can ride their bike or walk to the town park. I love how we have tons of flat sidewalk on our street to teach our youngest guys to ride without training wheels. I love how when you walk in the evening down the road the people you pass give you the pointer finger wave (almost a salute from the forehead).I love the small town newspaper that has a picture of your kid in it about a dozen times a year (I used to be the editor of this paper many years ago).

Today was another example of what I love about small towns. Today we went to "downtown" Cambridge for the Antique tractor show. We walked while the little guys rode in the wagon. We saw the old tractors and semi trailers and antique small engines (one of them was making "wooden nickels that some of the boys got to keep.) The three youngest sons got to participate in the pedal tractor obstacle course, where they each won a ribbon some animal crackers and a toy! There was face painting, a used everything sale and of course my wife had to stop by the library for the used book sale (she got 20 for $2). Besides the book the only real money we spent was for some ice cream and a couple of items we bought at the used whatever sale (some organization things we will use in the RV).


Everyone should live in a small town at least once in their life. It's a slice of what has made America a great nation and in some ways we all need to recapture as a nation some of the simpler things that help bring people together.

A teen in the house

So here I am on the eve of teenagerdom in my home. Thirteen years ago I never dreamed this day would come. I mean really how could that little purple ball of cooing flesh turn into a smelly hormone enraged walking moodiness with skin problems?

Well things aren't going to change overnight with Blake. Granted he already has demonstrated some changes, like not wanting to hug his dad too often and wanting to sleep in. But overall he is pretty decent for a 13 year old.

So my main goal for the next 7 years as a father of a teenager. To keep the communication lines open and to stay connected to my son's heart! I'm sure it will be a ride full of ups and downs and unexpected twists and turns, but I look forward to each and every one of them. Soon Tanner will

join him in the realm of teenagerdom. When Tanner turns 20, Chase will turn 13. So I have the next 16 years to look forward to dealing with at least one teenager in the house. I guess I should buckle up and by a gross of Speedstick!

Toy Story Legacy

Isn't it funny how some movies become a part of the fabric of a culture, a family or a person. Movies like Star Wars and Indiana Jones have become that for our family. Yesterday, as we watched Toy Story 3, I was also reminded of how the Toy Story movies have woven a trail of memories through the tapestry of our family history. We love all the Pixar movies, even Ratatouille, but the Toy Story series holds a unique sway over our families sub-consciousness.

How so?

Well where to begin? Toy Story came out the year we were married. I remember watching it and thinking how great it would be to have a little boy to play cowboys and space man with. If I only knew!! I even welled up a little on this movie (but I did not full out cry). Andy reminded me of myself as a kid. Not every kid has an imagination to take a toy or two and create a whole story , or even a whole universe, from it. I did this sort of thing all the time. Three out of our five sons have had (or still do have) this sort of well-developed imagination. The other two have been greatly influenced by the "imaginative three".

Next came Toy Story 2.

This was Tanner's first real movie at a theater (not including falling asleep in the drive-in to Star Wars the Phantom Menace). He was enraptured through the whole thing.

In 2001 Blake and Tanner dressed as Buzz and Woody for Halloween. Some remnants of those costumes still remain in the "dress up bin", and Chase can be seen almost daily in Woody's hat, although it is a bit chewed up. Several TS phrases have been a regular part of our family's lingo, such as "Buzz, Buzz, Buzz Light year to rescue!" , "You are a toy!", "You can't rush art". Now Chase, who has a penchant for mixing up words, has added another - "Empeder Zurb." I can't forget about the several WDW pictures with Buzz Lightyear himself~

WARNING SPOILER!

So as I sat watching Toy Story 3 yesterday, keeping in mind my oldest is a few weeks away from 13, I couldn't help crying like a baby. For me I felt like our family has grown up with Andy, like he was one of our kids, and he was saying goodbye to his childhood. Blake is right on the heels of Andy, and Tanner not far behind him. This movie captured the fleeting nature of childhood in such a unique way, through the eyes of a boy's childhood toys. When Andy let the little girl have all his toys, but could barely part with Woody, well it still makes me weepy. I guess this just shows me that no matter how old I get, there will always be a part of me that is a little boy.

Brendan is officially a Martin!

What a journey it has been. Two and half years ago I received a call from Roanoke County Social Services that they had a little boy they wanted to place with us! Keep in mind they had already placed two other little boys with us. My first reaction was "are you crazy?", but something stuck in my gut. As soon as we met him, we knew we had to give this little guy a place to stay. Brendan came to live with us the first time on February 8, 2008.

At that time my sister Becky and her husband Joe were considering adopting. When it looked like Brendan was going to come up for adoption, we all prayed and felt like maybe God was leading the Moberlys to adopt him. But then some family members of Brendan stepped forward and were willing to adopt Brendan. This was a mixture of sadness and happiness for our family. The Moberlys also had to grow in God's sufficient grace for that moment! In April of 2009 Brendan left our family to go and live with his biological mother's cousin and her family in the Midwest. This was a sad moment for us, but once again we had a peace and were thankful to be part of Brendan's life if only for a short time.

As time progressed with his new family, it became more and more apparent that Brendan was not adjusting well to the new situation. He was almost out of control and seemed to long for the one family he considered his own, us. We stayed in contact with his new family, hoping to give them some insight into how they could help Brendan adjust. It soon became apparent however that he was not going to adjust. At this point we had moved to Canada. We didn't know if it could be done, but we felt since Brendan had bonded with us so strongly, we were his best chance to have a stable and solid childhood and a loving family. We opened our home to him to come back and live with us as his forever family. About this time my sister Becky found out she was pregnant with her fourth child, proving once again in this story that God gives and takes away, blessed be His name!

So after some amazing work done by both the Roanoke County Social Services and the Waterloo Region Social Services in Canada, they brought Brendan up to Ontario to be reunited with us on October 17th of last year. After months of visitations and paper work, today we got the email from our social worker that Brendan Dayne is now a Martin and will forever be a treasured member of our family. Another Gotcha Day in our home!

You can follow this story about clicking on the links in this post to various other blog posts that fall in the timeline.

Home is where the heart is

For the last 10 months we have rented a farm house from some people at church. It looks as if it has finally sold (they have been trying for almost three years to sell it), so we are moving into town. We have loved living on the farm and we thank God for such a amazing opportunity to live there. The horses, the llama, the barn, the 3,000+ square feet of living space, and the quiet of the country.
Our new home, at least for the next 6 months, is about half the size and is a townhome, sharing one side of the home with neighbors.

On the plus side it is super close to work and a newer home. We also welcome back with open arms a dishwasher, which we have lived without for the last 10 months. This will make house number seven since Patsy and I have been married. We celebrate 15 years together this August. This from a man who lived in the same house throughout childhood.

While we have lived in seven houses now, we have but one home. When you have moved around like we have, the saying home is where the heart is becomes an axiom to live by. For us our home is where our family is. As long as we are together, we are at home! As long as Christ is the center of our home, then we are truly grounded in love! It bring s new meaning to the saying "Home Sweet Home" for us!

2 broken legs

I recently heard a mother of young children fantasizing about having two broken legs and how wonderful that would be. As I sat and listened to her, I found myself grinning like an idiot, because I too have had such daydreams. In fact, as I looked around the room full of mothers, I noticed that all of them seemed to relate to this fantasy. We laughed about it, and then we all divulged our guilty little secrets to each other. One of these woman had recently had a minor surgery and was explaining how much she had looked forward to being in the hospital for an enforced recovery period. I, myself, have often wondered if the reason I agreed to have a second child was because of my mothering instinct, or my need for the relative relaxation of the hospital room. Sure, you are only served ice chips and jello, but at least you don't have to prepare it. No one requests that you get out of bed and do some laundry. The nurses don't ask you if you can help them find things, and sweetest of all....YOU control the remote on the TV! OK, so the choices on the television are usually pretty lame, but the power to control those lame channels is all yours!


Until this time, I had often wondered if I was the only strange and twisted woman who would choose to go through this pain in order to completely relax. Now, I realize just how wide spread this goes. There didn't seem to be many mothers in the room that couldn't relate. And that started me wondering.....do Dad's ever dream of being laid up in bed? Then they wouldn't have to cook, help with homework, do laundry, clean the toilets...OK. I've answered my own question haven't I? No, they don't! But, I think Dads may be on to something here. Maybe (and I do mean maybe), in some small way they are smarter than we are. I mean, let's look at this in depth. Let's say your child is leaving the house for school in shorts and the weather is only slightly above freezing.

Mom would...

1. Scold the child for wearing inappropriate clothing and instruct them to turn around and

put something warmer on.

2.Listen to the child complain that there are no clean pants in their drawer.

3.Walk up the stairs to check the aforementioned drawer and find that there is, in fact, one pair of pants left.

4.Listen to the child whine because they HATE those pants and everybody in school will laugh at them.

5.Force the child to wear these perfectly good pants and then drag them back down the stairs crying and pouting.

6.Listen for the phone all day because she knows that when her child left the house, they were in such a bad temper they will probably do something at school that will get them in trouble.

7. Meanwhile, she does 6 loads of laundry to help her feel better about the humiliation she is now convinced her child is suffering.

That is what Mom would do. Now, let's take a little peek at how Dad would handle this...

“See ya later, son! Have a good one!” At which point he would turn back to Mom and say, “What? He's wearing a coat.” See what I mean? Is Dad really smarter than we are?

Now I am not advocating that we all act like Dads. I believe firmly that God created woman because he knew man could never find his keys by himself. But, I am wondering if some of the stress that we moms experience could be avoided. And just so we are clear on this point as well, I am not of the opinion that breaking both our legs would be a very good thing. I have on occasion been laid up in bed for a day or two and my husband has jumped right in to help around the house. He is a very good man. However, he is a very poor housekeeper. Of course he maintains that I am just too picky when it comes to the house. And maybe I am, since I like made beds, flushed toilets, clean dishes, appropriately cooked food, etc. Silly me!

No, what I propose is that we take just a single page from the book on “How to Be a Great Man”. I would like to experiment with the page that tells dads how to come home from a hard day at work and completely ignore the problems of the household while they take a little time to unwind. What is it about Dad that allows him to drop whatever he is carrying in his hands onto the kitchen table that is half set for dinner, step over the “oops” that the family pet left on the floor, turn a deaf ear on the whining child that has been driving Mom crazy for the past hour and settle himself comfortably on the couch with the television remote in his hand. It is a source of amazement and frustration that he is completely unaware of the chaos he has returned to at the end of his day. And I must admit, the ability that man has to look up with complete sincerity on his face and say things like, “Do you need my help, Honey?” has left me speechless on more than one occasion. This guilt-free ability to walk through a mine-field of family turbulence and relax is a talent that most women would pay dearly to possess.

There are days when I am so tired by the time the children are in bed that my feet are literally throbbing and I am ready to drop. Yet, to my utter dismay, I find myself unable to relax until the pillows are put back on the couch, the shoes are picked up off the floor and the toys are at least piled into a corner instead of strewn about the room. Only then can I sit down with my husband for a few relaxing moments before bed. WHY?!?! Men, I don't know how you do it, but if someone figures out a way to bottle this relaxation technique and sell it, they would make a fortune. Yes, the awful truth is that for some of us, the ability to completely unwind will only come about in a sterile hospital room (or possibly a padded one). Dads, in this instance, I have to admit, I have “daddy-envy”. But, don't get too proud of yourselves. You still have to work on other areas like the toilet seat, bodily function noises, morning breath, the inability to deal with pain and maniacal driving.

When I'm mad

One of our boys who will remain nameless had an bit of an explosive outburst of anger last week so in talking to him both of us decided to write a lsit of ten things that we can do when we are mad to clam us down. Here is my list:

1. Count to 10 backwards


2. Take three deep breaths

3. Say a small prayer

4. Be silly

5. Whistle

6. Go into another room

7. Think of Patrick on Spongebob

8. Ask myself WWJD

9. Visualize whirled peas

10. Think of Walt Disney World – the happiest place on earth

 
 
Do you have a list?

The heart that embraces

This past week our family welcomed Brendan back into our home. We felt such a loss in our hearts when he left and now he is back in our family for good. We have such joy in our home over this. I remember when my wife and I were first getting serious about our relationship and she said she was OK with not having any kids and I said I wanted a big family. Well sweetie who got their way?
On a serious note as I look into his eyes and see him looking at me I can tell there is a lot of tentativeness still in Brendan’s little heart. He has been in six different homes in his 3 ½ years and I imagine he is still not sure this is his last stop. In his eyes and in the eyes of so many kids I see Jesus there. I see Him picking up a child a loving the little ones who so desperately just want a simple love. There are times I know where kids are like the raptors on Jurassic Park, testing for the weakness in the electric fence of the household rules. When they are in this mode they don’t seem like the innocent little children Jesus spoke of. But they still are. Their hearts are more open to love and truth than any adult could ever imagine. They are also more vulnerable to hurt and evil.
So as I took little Brendan in my arms and gave him a huge bear hug and drove home and tucked him into bed I lay there thinking of what he may become one day and how God might use our small family to impact his life. It often strikes me that the older I get the less ambitious I become to “change the world” or to make my impact on the injustice and hurting in this world. There is so much and yet the one thing that we really think will help it all out, money, does really nothing long term to end suffering. It is a band-aid. And then the question is where to choose to put my funds? To end AIDS or cancer or childhood diabetes. To provide clean drinking water, end child prostitution, help the homeless, provide clothes for war torn areas, help missionaries bring eternal hope, translate the Bible into a new language, or buy slaves in the Sudan? So many more worthy causes could be named. We do support some worthy causes. Three of my favourite are Compassion International, Samaritan’s Purse and St. Jude’s hospital.
But in the end its just money and money always creates as many problems as it solves. We still need to give, but in the end it’s not enough. So then we come to doing. Here too we often feel things like short term missions trips, volunteering at the homeless shelter donating baby supplies to the Pregnancy Care Center is “doing our part”. These are also good things but they lack the one thing that truly brings change, long term commitment to a group of people.
While there are many ways to do this, for me I wish to sound the bell that adoption and/or foster care is an amazing way to have an eternal impact on a life. Let me first say that any time you invest this amount of love, time and energy into some one you are guaranteed to feel a lot of pain. But in the end wading through the pain, letting it shape us more into the image of Christ and showing His love through it all is true transformational living.
There has never been in an age like we live in with so many millions and millions of orphans. Is a box at Christmas or buying some fancy water at Starbucks or going to a U2 concert where it starts and ends to address this? What is Christ calling the church to and more importantly what is he calling you to?
When one day we stand at the end of history and look back at those who made the greatest difference who will we see? Ghandi, Benjamin Franklin, Hitler, Osama bin Ladin, Julius Caesar, Bono, Churchill, Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, John Wesley, DL Moody, Steve Jobs, or any other name you can come up with. I don’t think these names are the true movers and shakers. As William Ross Wallace said “the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” Better yet the heart that embraces a child changes history. I made that up myself.

Always something

Well, it's always something,” as Rosanne Rosanadana would say. (OK, so now you know my little secret... I used to watch Saturday Night Live way “back in the day”.) Anyway, that little phrase that Rosanne used to conclude her news segment has come back to me on an almost daily basis since becoming a mother. This lastest instance involved our 4 year old son. (It seems that quite a lot of these little issues involve him....I wonder why.)
Our family recently moved from the US to Canada. That meant a lot of changes for us. One of those changes was finding a new family doctor. Let me stop right here and make one thing perfectly clear...I am in no way promoting, or bashing Canadian healthcare. It is different from the way healthcare is run in the US (not better, not worse, just different). All systems will have their positive and negative aspects. Since I am used to the system in the US, I was simply a little unprepared for finding a new doctor in Canada, that's all. We were informed by good friends that one of the first things we needed to do when coming to this country was to find a family doctor and put our names in. That sounded very reasonable to a mother of boys who seemed to enjoy infections and injuries, so that is what we did. We called a new clinic that was just opening up and asked to have our family records transferred. They told us they would put us on the waiting list and call us when it was our turn to meet the doctor. Being from the US, I thought that was kind of cute...we would get to “meet” the doctor. They said we would probably be called into the office by September. I smiled and managed to convince myself that there would surely be no need for a doctor between June and September. I wish my 4 year old had understood this as well.
You have to understand that this child was brought into our home with double ear infections and has been in a constant battle with his ears ever since. He has had two sets of tubes put in and we have our own supply of prescription ear drops for him. Now, I am not one of those mothers who advocate over medicating your children. But, when our little man smiles at me and says those magic words, “Mommy, my ear is coming out..” it means one of two things. Either, he has a clear fluid draining out of his ear and it will be gone within 48 hours, or he has a slight draining and he will be up all night spiking a 106 temperature with a ruptured ear drum by morning. (He doesn't believe in giving us a lot of warning when it comes to medical emergencies.) Anyway, that is the reason we have the prescription ear drops. Our family doctor was kind enough to order them for us before we left the US in case we needed them before we could find a new family doctor.
Well, September came and went and we had still not gotten a call from our new doctor. The ear drops were running low and I was starting to panic. I know it seems like a silly thing to panic about, but all you mothers know what it means to have to stay up all night with a sick child. Not only are you deprived of a night of sleep, you are also subjected unending whining and crying through out that night. Then you realize as the sun slowly starts to rise, this child is feeling no better and now you are so tired no amount of coffee will take the edge off your utter exhaustion. Your husband will soon be waking and possibly complaining about his interrupted night's sleep. And as he leaves the house for work that morning, you find yourself crying and asking why he gets to leave the house and not you....in fact, you might even be surprised to find yourself stamping your feet in anger and yelling, “It's not fair!!” (OK, so maybe I'm the only one who throws temper tantrums when I am tired. Let's just forget I mentioned it.) Anyway, I was panicking.
By October, I was wondering if possibly we had somehow missed the doctor's call and had lost our place on the waiting list. (OK, so I am neurotic. Haven't you figured that out by now?) Anyway, my husband finally placed a call to the clinic to check and see if we were still scheduled to see the doctor and he was kindly informed that we were on the list, but our meeting was now scheduled for November. My blood ran cold. November!?!?! I was absolutely certain we would be out of ear drops before that! This was a tiny little bottle! Really tiny! That is the only excuse I can offer for what happened next. It wasn't exactly a lie....it was more like a grabbing a life preserver as you head out to sea in a leaky boat.
The nurse said she felt bad for making us wait that long if someone was really sick. I guess it all depends on how you define “really sick”, but I took that to mean “can't wait until November”. Anyway, we now had the one needed appointment. My son would be able to see the doctor a week from Wednesday. My heart felt so much lighter that even the load of guilt I felt at the slight deception seemed of no consequence. I kept telling myself that all mothers call a doctor for a sick child, get the appointment and then find that as soon as they are ready to take that child to said appointment, the child miraculously shows no signs of sickness. With a jury of my peers (which would have to include at least one mother) I would never be convicted. Of course, I also prayed for an ear infection before the appointment. Of course, God, in His infinite justice, decided to keep my son's ears clear that whole week. So, I did the only thing any self-respecting mother would do....I sent my husband with my son to his doctor's appointment. I figured the whole office was going to know my son wasn't really sick, but maybe if they didn't actually see my face, they wouldn't connect me with the “fake” visit when we had to make later “real” visits. (I know what you are thinking, but I was weak...and my husband is a much stronger individual than I am.)
Anyway, Wednesday came and I stomped down all my guilt feelings as I watched my husband and well child drive off to the doctor's office. I busied myself around the house doing extra house work, and telling myself I would make it up to my husband later. I was therefore, faintly surprised when my son didn't come back from his appointment as soon as I had expected. In fact, the phone call that I received from my husband telling me they were in the Canadian equivalent of an emergency room, came as a complete shock. It seems that though my son's ears were relatively clear, there was a question of a foreign object that couldn't be removed from his nose. I can't begin to tell you the thoughts that ran through my mind as I waited for the next hour and a half. What would they find up my son's nose? And would it be incriminating for myself and my husband? Was it a result of our poor parenting skills? Was it a judgement from God? Such was my guilt over the whole situation that I barely contemplated the probability that my son was the main cause of the problem.
Finally, the phone rang and my husband said one of the doctors thought that the object might be one of his ear tubes that had somehow dislodged and worked it's way into his nose. They were going to freeze his nose so they could try to remove it. Now, I was really panicked. How did a tube get from your ear to your nose? What had I done to cause this medical emergency? Why hadn't I seen the symptoms before this? Was this all the result of forcing him to eat the green beans that he said would “make him sick” the week before?
My husband soon came home with a smiling 4 year old and a small plastic bag in his hand. What was it? A Lego. Yes, a Lego. My husband said that after several doctors had examined the situation, finally one came in and said, “Why don't we just ask him to blow his nose?” It seems that after a few significant blows, the Lego worked it's way to the end of my son's nose and was retrieved relatively unharmed. Smilingly, my little boy said, “Mommy, I sneezed and a Lego came out of my nose!” He is so proud. I on the other hand, must admit that I feel a mixture of shame and relief. I am ashamed of my part in this farce that was played out in our new doctor's office, but on the other hand, at least I have not been branded as an “over-protective mother who sees illnesses where there are none”. I am now proudly baring the title of “careless mother who leaves inappropriately small toys around for her little ones to play with”. I can live with that. As Rosanne would say, “It's always something, if it's not a major ear infection...it's a Lego up the nose.”

Jar of Marbles parable

3900 Saturdays And 1,000 Marbles
3900 Saturdays And 1,000 MarblesThe older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whom-ever he was talking with something about “a thousand marbles.” I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say–
“Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you’re busy with your job. I’m sure they pay you well but it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. It’s too bad you missed your daughter’s “dance recital” he continued.”Let me tell you something that has helped me keep my own priorities.” And that’s when he began to explain his theory of a “thousand marbles.“
“You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years.“
“Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I’m getting to the important part.It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail”, he went on, “and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays.“
“I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear.“
“Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight .“
“Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time.“
“It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. This is a 75 Year old Man, K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!“
You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter.Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. “
C’mon honey, I’m taking you and the kids to breakfast.”“What brought this on?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, nothing special, it’s just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. And hey, can we stop at a toy store while we’re out? I need to buy some marbles.“
p/s … “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.” – Winnie the Pooh

When It's NOT OK to laugh as a Mommy

All Moms know that there are times when your children make you smile warmly and there are times when they make you giggle with joy. But there are times when they do funny things and you are not allowed to laugh. It's in the Mommy Rule Book. It's easy to spot some of

these "unlaughable moments" like when your pre-adolesent falls down over his own feet. Or your large dog knocks your toddler over. The rule book clearly states that Moms are not supposed to laugh at their children's pain. We are supposed to give comfort and sympathy, not share in their humiliation. That's the easy part. But then, there are the harder moments...



These moments seem to lurk on the edge of our total frustration. In other words, they occur when we should be at our angriest. I believe that we have a built in release valve that kicks in once our children have sent us over the edge. My theory is that our children have the capability to make us so angry we will literally explode. So God caused Moms to have a laughter reaction that releases some of the pent up negative energy that leads to physical explosion. OK, it's just a theory. There is no other way to account for the need to laugh when I should be at my "Mom's on the War Path" best.



Recently, my two youngest children were told to clean their room and put their dirty clothes in the laundry basket. They are 3 and 4 years old. This should not have been too difficult for them. Pull a comforter over their wrinkled sheets and put dirty PJs into a football shaped clothes hamper. I was pretty sure they could do the job, but was expecting the worst. Or so I thought.... My idea of the worst was blankets on the floor and PJs under the pillows. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a room that had no clothes on the floor and blankets pulled up on the beds. Then imagine my confusion when I realized there were no pillows on the beds, no pillows under the beds, no pillows in the closet, in fact no pillows at all. I walked over to the clothes hamper to view their dirty jammies neatly piled into the football. Again, I was surprised to see no pillows in the hamper, and no jammies either. In fact, the football hamper was completely empty. I gave my two little men a very stern look and said, "Where are the dirty clothes boys?" Chase gave me a sweet little smile and said, "I show you Mommy." Then he took my hand and led me to the front yard. There, piled in the bushes under their bedroom window, lay the missing pillows, dirty clothes, odd assortment of toys and stuffed animals and books. Oh, did I mention it was raining at the time?



Silly me! I was wondering if they had the capability to make their beds and put their clothes away. I should have known that removing a screen from the window, tossing every loose article out the 2nd story window, replacing the screen and making their bed was well within their ability. I should have know this since they had already shown a remarkable ability to sneak into their big brother's rooms and come out with a large assortment of lego men stuffed neatly into their pockets, all without seemingly being anywhere near their brother's bedrooms.



As I tried to come up with a punishment that seemed fitting for this latest behavior problem, I started to think about what would happen if they had leaned too far out the window and fallen. That was all it took! Anger and fear seemed to rise from the base of my feet and threatened to completely engulf me. That's when I developed my exploding theory. I have no other excuse for what happened next. I was standing in the rain, in the middle of my front yard, with my two youngest sons at my side and when I should have been developing my "Mommy Look" and devising terrible consequences for them, I felt the overwhelming need to laugh. I don't have to explain this feeling to any Mom; we have all been there at least once. I ran into the house with a shouted "Get this stuff back in the house this minute young man!" and hid in my room until I was once again under control. Luckily, my abrupt departure was interpreted as overwhelming anger by my sons and they immediately started to correct the situation. Luckily, my husband arrived home just about the time they finished bringing wet clothes, toys, pillows and books into the house. It seems he did not possess the anger release laughter valve. He was not only able, but willing to give them the discipline they needed and do it all without laughter.



I'll have to find his secret for non-laughter soon, since I just told my 3 year old to "get your tail up to your room this minute" and he turned to me and said very sweetly "Mommy, only dinosaurs have tails."

Elephant in the room

Have you ever heard of the phrase elephant in the room? It is used when there is an issue is so big that everyone pretends its not there. It’s too big to deal with. Many families have big elephants in their home, abuse, addiction, infidelity, depression, financial ruin, etc...

David Stoop wrote “in the classic metaphor, family secrets are like the elephant in the living room that no one ever talks about. Eventually the elephant grows and takes over the room, spraying its waste on everyone and making it impossible to be in the room. Still, no one ever talks about the elephant.”
Kind of gross but accurately described. We as a nation are also a family and with the election for president drawing close we also have an elephant in the room that we don’t want tot talk about. There are some important issues to talk about, national security, energy prices, the mortgage crisis, immigration, health care etc. but we are missing the elephant in the room.
Imagine the big issues of the day in Germany in 1935 or in then USA in 1850 or in Great Britain in 1938. Looking back we can see their elephant, but can we see our own. So what do I think is our elephant? You might think I would say abortion and yes I agree there is no greater issue facing a people who do not even try to protect their own young. But as I see it the elephant in our country is that we have turned our back on basic Biblical principles and are loosing the ability to tell right from wrong. I don’t know if our family can get on track until we deal with the elephant and have the will to do it.
From my view I think the church family in our country also has an emerging elephant growing in our living room. We spend most of our time in the American church talking about and praying over money, worship styles, staffing issues, missions, evangelism, counseling, building programs, Sunday school or small groups etc… These are valid things but we are for the most part ignoring the big elephant. According to Barna Research, the Mosaic generation (young adults sometimes called Millennial) are least likely to attend church in a typical weekend (33%) versus Baby Busters (my generation also known as Generation X) at 43%, Baby Boomers (49%), and Elders (54%).
So given this current trend we are generation away from some serious trouble. Church doors will be closing and the church will cease to have a relevant voice in the culture. Now god will still be in control, but I think He is calling us to do something here.
Research also shows that most people who are serving God as adults gave their life to him between the ages of 4 and 14. Other statistics bear out that when parents are actively engaged in being the spiritual mentors in the home their kids end up active in their relationship with Christ as adults at much higher rate. Some studies done by Awana suggest over 90%!
So equipping, encouraging challenging and preparing both Christian and community parents (yes all parents are looking for help!) needs to be a primary focus of the church. Having a strategic and cohesive ministry from birth through young adult years also needs to be a high priority. Evangelism efforts geared towards kids ages 4-14 and mission initiatives geared towards the same age group needs to be on the forefront of our agendas. There is so much more I could add, but I hope this gives you some feed for tough on taking care of the elephant.

"During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act." George Orwell

KID CEO

I reviewed a great parenting book for Kidology.org called Kid CEO. I highly recommend it!

Greenhouse effect

My wife has been working on an herb garden. She started with some seedling sin our house and then moved them into the sun porch as they became little plants. She will eventually plant them in a protected area outside and watch over them daily until they are strong enough to survive outside.
This got me thinking about parenting in terms of a greenhouse. Weird thoughts I know but what can I say? Anyway I did some research online and here is some of what I found:
A green house is made up of glass. It takes solar energy form the sun and converts it into thermal energy. You can easily observe this happening in your day to day life. On a hot sunny day, when you park your car in sunlight with the windows rolled up. The solar energy passes through the window and heats up the inner atmosphere of your car. As a result, everything in the car becomes warm. This happens because the infra red rays are of a shorter wavelength before they touch the window. As they pass through the glass, they become of a longer wavelength. Infra red rays of a longer wave length cannot escape. As a result they get absorbed by the objects surrounding them. This is how a green house creates an ideal setting to grow plants. Plants get enough energy and sun light to absorb and grow.
Essentially, the large kettle full of water has been replaced by one with half an inch of water on its bottom, and as a result the water will warm up much faster. This also explains why ventilation is so important in keeping a greenhouse from overheating.
So how does this relate to parenting? Or children’s ministry for that matter? I have always thought of my philosophy of parenting as a greenhouse philosophy.
Most of feel when God gives us a new little baby we need to protect it from the elements, you know sickness, junk food, the rain, bad people etc... As times goes on we all know that we have to release our little seedling into the big world and hope they survive it! But when and how is that done?
First of all I think as a society in general we are too quick to put them into the world in general. I know they have to learn to survive in a hostile environment. I know they have to leaner to deal with a sin-filled society. I know all that. But how do we do this. I firmly believe we do it slowly and gently. They are children and their innocence is such a treasure. In order to develop normally they need to keep that innocence for along time.
Our job is to slowly expose them to the harsh elements of this world while allowing them to grow stronger with deeper roots in the greenhouse of God’s Word, love and security. If I may indulge myself in a little homeschool parent rant here, I have heard the argument against homeschooling that we have to expose them to the real world; they need to interact with a sinful society if they are going to develop a strong faith. Whether you homeschool or not is between you and God, but that argument is pure nonsense!
Secondly in the same vein we have become as a society such protectors of what goes into our child’s mouth and stomach but allow the most horrible junk to go straight into their souls. If we are going to be greenhouse parents we have to work hard at protecting our children’s souls and minds. The body will pas away, and is worth protecting. Should we not be a hundred times more vigilant with their spirit, their souls, and their innocence?

If you were expecting an article on carbon emissions please go here http://www.junkscience.com/Greenhouse/