Second Drafts

And Now, Melancholy

Every now and then, my melancholy gets the best of me and things go a little gray here on the blog. Maybe it's the rainy weather we're currently experiencing over all of Spring Break (or just the fact that I haven't really been able to take one), but I'm a little down.

No need to feel sorry for me, though (I'm quite capable of doing that on my own). Some things I've heard myself thinking of late (perhaps you can relate and at least know you're not alone):

• I increasingly find myself chained to my laptop. While I love my Mac product(s), I don't like being inseparable from them. True, all it takes is shutting the lid, but so much of what I do requires time on it that it's beginning to lose its luster.
• The amount of time spent thinking about life outside these United States continues to dwindle as I get older. Part of this is has to do with plenty of other thoughts occupying my head; part of it has to do with the fact that there is just no way to afford such travel anyway, so why bother? I want to care more about the world, but I don't.
• Speaking of money, it's wearying watching people throw money at things that don't matter (and I'm not just talking about our federal and state governments), especially when I have so many better ideas of what they could do with it. My heart is living in Psalm 73 these days.
• Our yard is little more than weeds right now, and after the rain of the past 24 hours, the weeds are all submerged in a big swamp. I want to care about property, but when things happen beyond my control, it becomes more of a challenge.
• I'm thinking about lighting my desk on fire so as to gain a fresh start there (it's amazing to me how far I've fallen in this area of organization, particularly when I think of past posts like this one).
• The idea of ever writing a book again is, at best, as or more fleeting as my cluttered attention span. (Sadly, the same could be said for ever reading one again as well.)
• I continue to see my many failures as a husband and father and wonder how our family is really going to turn out when it's all said and done. Being married and parenting is hard and I wish I were better at both.

So there you have it - a collection of (mostly) first world problems that I'm even embarrassed sharing (yet another contributor to my funk of late). Of course, there are deeper issues beneath these scenarios, so pray I can recognize and offer them to God and regain some hope in my fallen perspective.

That is all.

(Melancholy (1891) painting by Edvard Munch)

A Dispatch from January

I have over 150 "have-to-answer" emails in my inbox, so it would seem a good time to work on the blog. (I'll just think of this as a warm-up rather than a put-off. Note: If you're waiting on an email from me, it will come today). Some items of late to mark the days:

I just finished two books, both with a financial theme: The Price of Everything, a parable of economic emergent order, by Russell Roberts, and The Third Conversion, a "novelette" by R. Scott Rodin about fundraising as ministry and not just money. The first book is a very readable text that our seniors are reading in Economics; the second is a more semi-hokey series of conversations between a seasoned fundraiser and his up-and-coming protege.

While recovering from my first kidney stone surgery, I found myself with some time to actually watch a few things on Netflix via the iPad. I'd heard of Joss Whedon's Firefly series (only one season of 15 episodes, capped off for resolution by the movie, Serenity) and enjoyed this "space western" well enough. I also had time for a few Shakespeare films (Kenneth Branaugh's Henry V and Patrick Stewart in Macbeth were excellent), which were fun and novel to watch.

There's been a lot of "launching" going on this January. A week ago, City Pres got off the ground with our first official worship service (I helped serve the Lord's Supper) and our Tuesday night CityGroup started back up; this past week, we kicked off our Veritas capital campaign and website, which we hope will come to first fruition in early March; and I've  enjoyed getting back in the classroom twice a week teaching the second semester of our senior American History course (two very different but engaging texts: A Patriot's History of the United States by Larry Schwiekart and Michaell Allen and A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn).

Other highlights so far this month: 70-degree weather, my four capitalist daughters selling three (and counting) enormous boxes worth of chocolate for their homeschool band program, Megan clearing off and cleaning my desk (she loves me), NFL football playoffs (which is really the only time I'm interested enough to watch), the daily newspaper in my driveway, cold milk on hand, and people who call me "friend".

Okay. Guess it's time to deal with email, to which I say (in my best British accent): "Do your worst!" Thanks for reading.

So I'm Having a Little Surgery Tomorrow...

I had a bit of a scare earlier this week by way of a doctor's appointment in which the word "cancer" randomly found its way into the list of possible pain diagnoses. Thankfully, I actually have two "significant" kidney stones (9 millimeters and 7 millimeters; one in each kidney) and am scheduled for an outpatient procedure early Monday morning to have them lasered. (All prayers appreciated for this procedure tomorrow; for the menfolk out there, this is where you cross your legs in empathy).

With the exception of one day, I haven't been in any kind of major pain; however, the doctor was concerned when I described to him the pain I had felt being in both sides of my back. He said it was rare to have "synced" kidney stones in each kidney and thought the odds were a little against that. When I asked him what else might account for the dispersed pain, that was when the briefest of cancer discussions began.

In general, I'm not one to freak out at things like this, and I didn't; odds or not, the pain was similar to the only other time I've had kidney stones, so I was pretty sure that's what I was dealing with here. But the doctor had me get a CT scan later that day so we would know what the problem was, and in the 36-hour period of waiting for the results, I experienced a few emotions at the possibility of having cancer that I'm not sure I had felt up to this point in my life.

My first emotion - starting in the doctor's office - had to do with the challenge of the prospect: I felt myself hoping it was cancer so I could take my best shot at beating it. Perhaps a form of denial or just prideful presumption, I remember thinking through how I could "use" this to inspire others through my battle and come out on top in the end. I know: sick. But that was my first emotion, self-serving and naive as it was.

My second emotion - once I moved past the idiotic hope of wanting cancer - had everything to do with Megan and the girls. I began thinking through all the details I needed to figure out (and fast) so as to make whatever time I had left with them the best that I could. I also spent a lot of mental energy trying to figure out when and how to break the news, as their disassociative abilities are not as fully developed (read: non-existent) as mine are in terms of dealing with bad news and not immediately personalizing it.

My final emotion - and the one that was strangest to deal with - was my first real visceral sense that, in my humanity, I am indeed mortal and vulnerable to death. Though I've made peace with this reality from the philosophical and theological perspectives, this was the first true emotional consideration of the fact that I am not always going to be a living, breathing person. I felt fear, sadness, and disappointment creep in at the possibility that I might be dead prematurely (at least by my watch), and I emotionally winced at the Bible's teaching that, "...you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes." (James 4:14) I prefer not to be a poster child for this truth (though I - and all of us - are).

Thankfully, I DON'T have cancer, the kidney stones will be taken care of in an outpatient surgery tomorrow, and I fully intend on making a quick and complete recovery and getting back to what God has called me to do. In fact, as I processed all of the above this week, one thing that did encourage me was that, if indeed I had limited time to live, I had no desire to do anything other than what I'm doing - no end-of-life trips or job-quitting plans required. This is reassuring and has brought new focus to the tasks at hand this week.

I'm glad for that 36-hour period in which I didn't know for sure what the future held; if anything, it was a good and practical opportunity to hold on tight with open hands to my life and check how much I do or don't trust God with it. In not knowing, I felt relief that, by His grace, I seemed able to trust Him for whatever would come, as several times Job's words were my own: "Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face." (Job 13:15 ESV)

Not doing much arguing of ways these days...just grateful to God to get to have one more.

Blended Model Education (in a Perfect World)

Our Veritas Online Home Day Film Festival launches today. Here's the intro video Megan, the girls, and I put together this past weekend to officially kick it off. Enjoy.

Some Blessings...No Turning Back

A couple weeks ago, I lamented that I had Some Regrets...No Doubts about our move to Oklahoma. As promised at the end of that entry, it's time to write the follow-up post.

Today marks 100 days on the job as Head of School of Veritas Classical Academy. In making it this far, I've been so grateful for the kindness, care, and friendship shown to my family, and the many prayers and expressions of support for my leadership at Veritas. During the past 100 days, I’ve listened – to parents and students, to faculty and staff, to our Board of Directors and the Lord – to learn what of the past seven years has made the school who we are now, all while planning and positioning us for the next seven (and beyond). It's been incredibly challenging, but as personally fulfilling as anything I've done.

I love getting to see my kids during their school days, but strangely, this has been more awkward for me than for them. During the first week, I felt really embarrassed for them when they saw me and ran up and hugged me during the day. I wonder how long their enthusiasm for Dad will last, but since they don't seem to mind or feel pressure to behave differently, I'm happy to let it continue as long as it will (I just need to get used to it).

In addition to my own kids, I'm enjoying the other 243 students enrolled at our two campuses. While I'm still learning names and trying desperately to keep up with everything required to run a school, the kids have been kind and open with me, as have many of their parents. One particularly enjoyable bunch of students is my Headmaster's Conclave, a lunch group of juniors and seniors. We meet every other week to talk about their studies, their lives, and their perspectives on how we can improve Veritas. It's been enlightening to hear from them (and they've been more than willing to provide "the new guy" with their honest thoughts).

I could go on - about our teaching staff (all of whom I love); about our administrative team (all of whom are so committed to the school); about our board of directors (all of whom I feel safe with); and about classical Christian education (all of which I am learning so much, but still have so much to learn). It's been great - really exhausting, but great.

On the non-school front, I'm encouraged with the relationships we're beginning to cultivate in our neighborhood, which has thankfully turned out to be much more socially and ethnically diverse than I imagined. Over Labor Day weekend, we organized a cul-de-sac party and over 30 people turned out, many of whom had lived here for years and were re-introducing themselves to each other as they had just not kept up over time. The girls have made friends in the neighborhood and the weather has finally cooled off to make being outside an option (though actually being home remains my biggest challenge).

As you may know, one of the other reasons we moved to OKC was to help my college roommate/co-author, Doug Serven, plant City Presbyterian, the first PCA church in the Oklahoma City limits. Here's a picture from one of our first leadership meetings in June:

And here's a picture from our first "preview" worship service this past Sunday evening:

As you can see, our chairs runneth over. Granted, not all of these people are going to stick around as part of City Pres (several were simply well-wishers from other churches while others were there to see one of the nine baptisms that took place), but it was fun to pull everything together and provide an opportunity for folks to hear the Scriptures proclaimed, to partake in the sacraments of communion and baptism, and to visualize the future of Oklahoma City with a Reformed church in its downtown.

As we don't anticipate formally launching a weekly service until perhaps the spring, we'll be meeting in City Groups (ours meets on Tuesday evenings) and in Sunday night vision rallies until then. However, it was especially fun for me to see Megan enjoy offering of her behind-the-scenes gifts of service and hospitality (not to mention picture-taking), as well as see our girls jump in and help set up, pull off, and pick up after the service. Having been dragged along to so many of the leadership meetings over the summer, they felt real ownership for the service and the church, which was hugely exciting.

In thinking through all of this - school, neighborhood, church, family - I keep coming back to Psalm 16, which has, for the past six years or so, become one of my fortunate favorites:

    Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.
    I say to the LORD, “You are my Lord;
        I have no good apart from you.”
    As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,
        in whom is all my delight.
    The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;
        their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out
        or take their names on my lips.
    The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;
        you hold my lot.
    The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
        indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
    I bless the LORD who gives me counsel;
        in the night also my heart instructs me.
    I have set the LORD always before me;
        because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
    Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
        my flesh also dwells secure.
    For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
        or let your holy one see corruption.
    You make known to me the path of life;
        in your presence there is fullness of joy;
        at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
(Psalm 16 ESV)

Some blessings...no turning back. Grateful to God for who he is and all he is doing.

Some Regrets...No Doubts

On Friday, the girls and I got home from school around 2 p.m., as Veritas is only in session on Fridays until 12:30. My normal "Daddy's home" routine is to greet Megan (usually with a hug), greet the dogs (also usually with a hug), and then head upstairs, change clothes, and collapse on the bed for a period of time in direct proportion to what kind of day/week it's been.

As we just finished our first week - a very good but exhausting one - my time on the bed went a little longer than normal. After 45 minutes of repeatedly falling asleep but then being awakened by one of four daughters, I gave up the idea of a nap and came downstairs. The girls wanted to watch something, but I was not in the mood for Phineas & Ferb; thus, we pulled up Chariots of Fire on Netflix and enjoyed.

There's a scene toward the end of the film in which Erid Liddell can only watch the finals of the race he was favored to win (the 100-yard dash) because his Sabbath conviction stood in the way of participating in the qualifying heats the previous Sunday. As Liddell is sitting in the stands waiting for the race to begin, a friend leans over to him and asks if he has any regrets. Liddell's response: "Some regrets...no doubts."

I resonated with Liddell's sentiment. Moving to Oklahoma has hardly been an awful thing and I have no doubts we are supposed to be here. But I'd be lying if I said there weren't some regrets that I've been processing and feeling this summer.

I suppose the first source of grief is just the loss of time and money that goes with any major transition. In thinking back through all the hours invested praying and wrestling with the pros and cons, asking questions and communicating decisions, selling a house and buying a house, packing, loading, moving, unloading, and unpacking, and paying for it all, I regret the toll our move required and the burden it placed on our family. A look at my minimal reading list or our bank account confirms that it's been a tough seven months.

Second, I regret distancing the relationships we had in St. Louis (as well as the ones previously distanced in Colorado Springs before we moved from there). We've always been fortunate to have surrounded ourselves with good people, but that fact is not always comforting when you have to leave them behind. I miss those I used to work with, went to church with, laughed with, argued with, and just loved being with. These are wounds that I don't anticipate healing completely.

Third, I miss the simplicity of "just being a teacher" and being able to focus exclusively on the science and art of teaching. I first felt this reality in May, when I finished teaching and started my new role as Head of School ten days later (moving in between), but being around kids this past week really made me miss the classroom and the discussions I got to have with students all day long.

Fourth, I miss the Midwest and the common sense spirit of keeping your head down and your nose to the grindstone because, well, that's what people do in the Midwest. Granted, the Southwest is perhaps not that different, but while I never thought I'd miss the weather in St. Louis, after living through the hottest summer on record in Oklahoma, I confess I miss that as well.

Finally, I regret the potential risks I've exposed my family (and others) to in leaving a well-established, well-respected, and well-funded school in an amazing brand new building run by seasoned leaders who know what they're doing in order to be a first-time Head of School in a fledgling education movement that rents limited space every week in two churches just to have a place to meet three days a week. I won't say the pressure's overwhelming yet, but there is pressure, and I feel it on a variety of levels.

Some regrets, yes. Plenty of them. But no doubts. None at all. I'll write about why in my next post.

Because We Apparently Need More to Do

You may or may not have heard, but Megan and I have started writing a new blog together about our journey (past and present) through the world of classical education. The blog's called Docendo Discimus. Here's our angle on the name and idea:

"The philosopher Seneca (c. 4 BC-65 AD) offers us his counsel: 'Docendo discimus.' Translation: 'By teaching, we learn.' As we seek to provide our children with a classical Christian education, we hope to gain that which we did not experience in our own. Granted, it is probably more difficult now at our current stages of life due to slipping memories, full-time jobs, and possible mid-life plateaus, but it is not impossible, nor do we have to do it alone; hence this blog."

For more on our rationale, you can click here to get an idea of where we're going with it (and why). We're planning to write every Tuesday and Friday and, while what's up there now (a short series on what makes education Christian) is mine, Megan's planning to launch her first series from the homefront next week, so you won't want to miss that.

In addition to the new blog, we've also created a Twitter account to go with it. You'll find us tweeting about most things classical education at @PagingSeneca, so retweet us every now and then if what we write resonates with you.

Rest assured, we'll still continue writing individually at Second Drafts and Half-Pint House, but we're excited to be able to contribute to this new one together. So, check out the site and/or follow us on Twitter. Hope they help.

First Day of School

Yep, it's a lot like that...only louder.

U2: A Recap

Always Pain Before a Child Is Born

I've been listening to a fair amount of U2 the past couple days as part of my preparation (yes, preparation) for the upcoming concert at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. If you remember, we're planning to take the girls on Sunday, and I can't wait for their reactions to all that they will see, hear, and experience at their first-ever rock concert.

I've written before about the band and the fact that their music has served as a soundtrack for just about every major transition I've experienced. True to form, six months before we moved to Oklahoma, we bought tickets to the St. Louis show for July 17th and gave them to the girls for Christmas, not knowing until a few months later that we wouldn't be living there anymore come summer. When I took the new role, the only contingency was that we could take a week of vacation leading up to the concert. I won't say it would have been a deal-breaker...but it could have been.

As it turns out, "vacation" started Saturday, but it's not exactly the one we originally planned. Megan and the girls arrived in St. Louis as of Sunday night, but they've spent the past two days in the dentist and optometrist offices trying to get one last round of check-ups in before our insurance transfers in August.

I'm still in Oklahoma as I felt the need to be at several important meetings yesterday and today. I'll fly up early Wednesday morning to join the ladies for a couple days at the farm before spending Saturday and Sunday around a hotel pool gearing up for the show that night. We'll then drive back to OKC all day Monday (I'm looking forward to the drive, as it will be the first time we all will get to process the concert at length together).

Today, while making the drive up and down I-35, I listened to "Yahweh" from How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. Below is the acoustic version of the song (the album version includes the bridge and features a more rock arrangement) from the Chicago concert we were actually at in 2005 (don't make fun of Larry's one-finger string arrangement - he's a drummer, God love him):

The song is a prayer - a prayer I prayed with tears today as I wove in and out of traffic trying to get where I needed to go. It's how my prayers to God sound these days - prayers filled with painful self-awareness of my inadequacies as well as angry frustrations at my limitations. As in the chorus, the desperate cry of "Yahweh" was about all I could manage to get out while driving through Oklahoma City, and that was okay.

What's weird is it's been a great six weeks - six weeks that I would change very little about in terms of what we've done and accomplished. But six weeks does not a school build, nor a church plant. Every day has been hard, and from what I can tell, every day is going to be hard for a long time. I'm embarrassed by my impatience, but grateful for it too in that it reminds me I still expect God to do something here (and there is so very much that only He can do).

In looking through the playlists posted from the last few U2 concerts, I don't see "Yahweh" anywhere on them. Still, maybe the Lord will spark Bono to change things up and do it Sunday night, which if that happens, I will break down weeping at the gift it would be while my wife and daughters (once again) wonder what's wrong with Daddy.

And the answer is nothing...and everything - all of which God - Yahweh - cares for deeply.

 

Take these shoes - click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes and make them fit
Take this shirt - polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt and make it clean, clean
Take this soul - stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul and make it sing

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Take these hands - teach them what to carry
Take these hands - don't make a fist
Take this mouth - so quick to criticize
Take this mouth - give it a kiss

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahewh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?

Take this city - a city should be shining on a hill
Take this city if it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart, take this heart
Take this heart and let it break

Listening for God's "Rock" Voice

Just sent this out to our Veritas families and staff and wondered if anyone here might like/want/need to read it as well:

This morning I was reading the prophet Zephaniah's book when I came across 3:17, which says,

"The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing."

Israel (now split into northern and southern kingdoms) continues to avoid returning to God and His covenant because of their sin, but God, through Zephaniah, clarifies their reality: they are in trouble, but He is in their midst and is able and willing to save them from themselves.

Does this reality describe your house as much as it does ours? As Megan and I parent, it seems we're often having to point out to our four girls when they are in trouble and remind them that we're here to help before they make things worse for themselves. (Truth be told, Megan and I sometimes have a similar version of this conversation with each other, but that's for another email...).

So we get discouraged. And we wonder if we know what we're doing. And we begin to convince each other that we don't. But since they're ours, well, we've got to figure it out. So what does figuring it out look like?

Figuring it out looks a lot like God's promised response to a repentant Israel: a rejoicing one; a loving and quieting one; an exultant one, complete with loud singing over them (this is not a lullaby; this is God's "rock" voice).

Megan and I are good at recognizing trouble, offering help, and warning our kids about their own sinful natures. But we have miles to go in celebrating their repentance, even more so in truly "rocking out" at their return to what's right.

Summers are a great time to re-evaluate a lot of things; parenting should be on that list. Let me encourage you to give thought to how you correct and train your kids...AND how you love and rejoice over them when they respond, too.

So This Is Oklahoma?

Believe it or not, yes, it is. The flying bird/bat things? Parachute surfers on Lake Hefner, which is approximately two miles from our house here in Oklahoma City. Weird, eh? It's like California (minus the light sand and snowballing state government deficit).

Non-surprises: Highway 44 (previously the formerly famous Route 66) is not nearly as romantic when you've been on it for six hours (the trip takes a good eight from St. Louis); we should have rented a semi-truck instead of Budget's 24-footer (thanks to everyone back in the STL who helped Megan load up our second round of stuff on Friday); and, while the house is a wreck, it really is going to be a great place for all of us to call home (especially when we finally get to close on the silly thing on Monday).

We had some good help get us set up last Tuesday. Thanks to Becky, Josh, Brent, and Ruth below (among others) for helping a very happy Chloe set up her bed:

A prayer request: Keith (pictured with me above) is a men's minister with First Stone Ministries. He and his wife, Lisa, are the folks we're buying the house from and they have been nothing but a pleasure to work with through the process. Unfortunately, their attempt to purchase a home in Norman has been far from enjoyable due to a contrary seller. As a result (and because we're here now), they're displaced and hoping not to have to double-move their stuff (they also are trying to find new homes for Boomer and Lloyd - their dog and cat - for whom our own Peaches is currently providing hospitality.) Anyway, if you think of it, pray for their deal to work out and that all would be well for them.

So, we're here and glad to be so. I'll have more pics and posts to come; until then, suffice it to say that after our twelfth move in 14 years of marriage, it's good to be home (again).

Our R.O.U.S. (Rodent of Unusual Size)

I took Peaches to PetSmart today to get her nails ground down and came home inspired to save $20 and give her a haircut myself. Unfortunately, I'm probably going to have to spend the money anyway to finish her face and ears as I was too afraid of going all Van Gogh on her. Here she is in all of her half-shaved rodent glory:

The Worst Part About Life on the Road

Out of town and missing my little ladies. Love you, girls. Please don't grow up anymore.

The Boys (and Girls) of Summer

It probably has something to do with living in St. Louis, but I always find myself writing a post on the occasion of Major League Baseball's opening day. As usual, humor me.

Whether or not she meant for the opportunity to coincide, Megan scheduled a tour (via Groupon) this past Sunday afternoon of Busch Stadium III. It had just snowed the day before and there were at least a dozen people on the field trying to dry things up; otherwise, we and the 20 other people on the tour pretty much had the place to ourselves.

As you may know, St. Louis is a great baseball city with the second-most World Series championships to its credit (10; only the New York Yankees have more at 27). Somewhat unrelated (but interesting nevertheless), we've also had a fair number of official logos during this time (Slugger Bird - fourth from the left - was always a favorite of mine).

The history is rich, and some of it is represented at different locations throughout the stadium: vintage uniforms encased with pennants and other timeless memorabilia; a tribute to former Cardinals radio announcer, Jack Buck; various World Series programs and trophies scattered here and there.

The Redbirds aren't the only ones who open their season this week; Westminster's baseball season started for us as well. This is my second year coaching the junior varsity/freshmen at WCA and I have an unbelievably talented group of guys who really love the game. It's also a treat to be part of a coaching staff under head coach Rich Van Gilst (now in his 28th season) and with pitching coach Andy Benes, former Cardinals pitcher who spent 14 years in the big leagues.

Last week, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ranked WCA's varsity team number one for small schools in St. Louis. My part in that (along with stellar assistant coaches Slade Johnson and Micah Gall, two guys in their twenties who were both solid players in high school and college) is to build guys into varsity-level players during their freshmen and sophomore years. While we're certainly not the only ones investing in their baseball skills (many of our guys play baseball year-round for other coaches), it's fun to see "our boys" do well when they get the chance to play up.

For instance, two days ago, Ben Lovell, my top pitcher from last year as a freshman, started his first varsity game as a sophomore, going six innings and getting the win against one of the big Parkway public schools (check out his post-game interview). Last night, due to some injuries with some of our seniors, Mark McFarland, another sophomore, got "called up" to do some varsity relief pitching and threw two innings and also got the win. Today, a third sophomore, Davis Vanderslice, is making his first varsity start, and I'm confident he'll do well, too.

Sure, I hate to lose the guys from the junior varsity team, but it's fun to both help prepare and celebrate with them before and after their "big break." It's also fun to "call up" a few freshmen to help out on the junior varsity level in replacement (having lost two of my sophomore starters, I'm starting two freshmen pitchers in games later this week). Finally, it's very enjoyable to win games with guys at the junior varsity level (we won our first game 7-0 by playing really good defensive against another of the big Parkway schools).

Tonight, after our JV and Freshman games were canceled due to rain (the joys of playing baseball in March in the Midwest), I came home and played catch with my two youngest, both of whom are learning to love baseball as much as their two older sisters. It's amazing how much they've improved in their catching and throwing since last year, all from simply growing one year older. We laughed, we talked, we threw, we caught. It was fun.

At whatever level - half-pint, freshman, junior varsity, varsity, the Majors - baseball is the same great game that gets the entire city of St. Louis excited when the boys (and girls) of summer show up and start playing in the spring. It's as perfect a game as there is, and I'm glad to relive my love for it as a former pitcher/player and now as a coach.

Play ball! And go Redbirds!

(For more baseball thoughts over the years, click here, here, here, here, and here.)

Five Houses

We've just returned from our house-hunting trip to Oklahoma City. All in all, it was a good adventure, though not without some bumps in the road (scheduled realtor bailing on us the night before because we weren't prepared to make an offer; van brakes and rotors needing replaced the day we were planning to hunt, thus requiring a rental car for the day, etc.). Still, for those who are interested, here's what we found:

THE VICTORIAN

Aesthetically speaking, this was easily our favorite - we're Victorian kinds of people and suckers for a wrap-around porch. In addition, the white structure in back would make a perfect guest suite/study/studio. Unfortunately, all this would take a lot of work and money as several rooms need renovating just to move in and the guest suite/study/studio is nothing more than a couple of rooms with an uneven floor and rotting walls (there were also rumors of some foundation issues on the main house, which is never a good thing). Nice enough neighborhood, but potentially problematic. Cheap (for all the wrong reasons).

THE BRICK

Geographically speaking, this one was the hands-down winner - two minutes from downtown across I-235, which is the main thoroughfare I'm going to be traveling for Veritas. The only problem is that the street looks like a meth lab waiting to happen as it's also three minutes from the state capitol, which is not one of the nicer areas in OKC. Still, the house has 5 beds, 3 baths, approximately 2,980 square feet, and also has a possible detached study/studio as part of the garage (though part of the brick wall has collapsed and the room is a landfill). Cheapest (presumably because of the neighborhood).

THE YELLOW

Maybe it's the yellow paint, but this one just really seemed blah to me - nice enough, I suppose, and the street was okay (though it turns onto a pretty busy route), but this one looked better in pictures than in person. As with the other ones, we didn't get a chance to walk through it, but neither one of us really wanted to, which is never a good sign when you're thinking about living somewhere. Seemed overpriced.

THE BUNGALOW

We came across this one while trying to find another one and, while it looked serene enough, it actually sits on a very busy avenue. It looks smaller here than it actually is, as this was another house with what looked like a studio apartment of some type above the separate garage in back. The flyer seemed to indicate that the house "needed some work" and could potentially be nice, but what we saw of the miniscule backyard and some cracks in the foundation of the front porch were not quite as encouraging. Still, reasonably priced.

THE BRADY BUNCH

The only house we actually got to walk through, this one redeemed the whole house-hunting effort for us. Five bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, and more closet space than we've ever seen (apparently the initial owners were survivalists who hoarded food in preparation for the end of the world - seriously), this house fulfills just about every ideal we had written down except for the more suburban location (for more on that tension, read Megan's post). The owners (a neat Christian couple who actually owned and had read my book!) were listing the house for the exact price to the dollar that we're hoping to sell ours for in St. Louis. Most expensive, but seemingly the best value all around.

So, there you have it. Cast your vote for where the Dunhams might live in Oklahoma City. Voting ends when we make someone an offer they can't refuse...and they accept.

Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'

We couldn't find any cowboy hats, and our surrey with the fringe on top is actually a Pontiac Montana mini-van, but we're heading down to that ultimate of popular Spring Break destinations: warm and sunny Oklahoma City.

All kidding aside, we're looking forward to the time and the chance to spend a few days in our soon-to-be new hometown. The trip will be equal parts business and pleasure as we'll be house-hunting and I'll also be spending a day at Veritas to meet with the staff.

It will be good to be together; the girls are excited about spending some time with Megan's parents and even Peaches is making the trip to meet her Golden Retriever canine aunt, Ladybelle.

Here's to a safe trip, a good time, and a clearer picture of the next stage of life where the wind comes sweepin' down the plains.

More Than April Showers or May Flowers

About a year-and-a-half ago, I had the idea that it might be a good idea to mark turning 40 (which happened last month) with a 40-day fast from food and media. My goal (as detailed here) was "to spend my extra time reading the Bible, praying, and writing about what God may have should he grant me another 40 years."

The media fast was easy: I didn't touch Facebook, Twitter, or the blog and I didn't miss it. The food fast was much harder, as I attempted a water-only fast (I did have a couple of cups of tea after Day 4 just to taste something other than my mouth). Things were going well enough until my doctor pulled the plug on the fast at the end of Day 10 because I had too many ketones in my blood and could have developed serious kidney problems. While disappointed, I was glad it was her decision to end the fast rather than mine (though she never wrote me that prescription for Five Guys Burger & Fries like I asked).

I lost twenty pounds in those ten days and learned how much food can be an idol for me. I also had a great time reading the Old Testament prophets, listening to God convey his love for his people even in the midst of their sin and rebellion and writing out prayers of confession for myself and supplication for others. Finally, I thanked God for the gift of life and asked him for his favor on another 40 years if he would be so gracious. I had no agenda for this time other than to seek God and to read, listen, and write. In the spirit of the prophets, I even grew a beard that didn't look half bad.

On day 39 of this 40-day period, I received an email out of the blue from Julie Serven, wife of Doug (of three-year Mizzou roommate/TwentySomeone co-author fame). After wishing me an early birthday, she wrote:

"I wanted to ask if you would have any interest in pursuing a new career direction? Our Head of School has recently taken a position with a school in Alabama. He has done a great job the last couple of years and has helped in taking the school to a more developed level.

We need someone who is both visionary but also very administratively gifted. Someone with teaching experience, preferably in high school, and experience with managing and working with people. Someone who appreciates the value of a home component in education and is willing to encourage and partner with parents interested in doing so. Someone who could help train the teachers, pastor the parents, and love the kids. Sound like anyone you know? It does to me."

Somewhat dumbfounded by Julie's email and the opportunity she was asking me to consider, I finished my 40 days asking God if this would be something he would have me pursue. While I have absolutely loved teaching these past five years (four at Westminster Christian Academy, one at Heritage Classical School), I had wondered more than once whether I was using my administrative and leadership gifts to the fullest extent that I could. This question was not one of ambition but of stewardship: Was there more God was calling me to do for the Kingdom in the realm of Christian education? Was this role with Veritas an opportunity I was to trust him for in doing so?

After talking with Megan and seeking counsel from several here and elsewhere who know and love us, we decided it was worth pursuing. I composed a letter and resume, notified references, and sent along my testimony and philosophy of education. A week later, the Veritas board flew Megan and me to Oklahoma City for an exhaustingly thorough weekend-long interview; ten days later (after doing due diligence of considering other applicants), they sent us a very gracious official offer; last weekend, I made one more trip to meet with the board to discern face-to-face if indeed this was God's will for all involved. By the end of the meeting, it seemed good to all of us; thus, I accepted the role.

The school, Veritas Classical Academy, now has 260 students Pre-K through 11th (they are adding 12th grade next year) and currently meets at a church in south OKC. Because of interest in the Edmond/North OKC area, they will be starting a north grammar campus (Pre-K to 5th) with 50 students this coming fall. Plans are to open a south grammar campus in Norman the year after that (starting with 50 students), and then move to purchase land/building for a central upper school campus the year or two after that, the idea being that there would be several feeder grammar schools and one central upper school (6th to 12th, 7th to 12th, or 9th to 12th). They follow a blended (university) model (half in-class instruction and half home instruction), seek to be reasonably (as opposed to maniacally) classical, and are trans-denominational as a school (though the board seeks to be winsomely Reformed in setting and implementing policies).

My role as Head of School will focus primarily on areas of creating and modeling the school's climate and values, recruiting, hiring, and training faculty, leading and counseling staff and parents as they educate their students, resolving conflict and handling disciplinary matters, and working with the board on strategic planning. Secondarily, I will also be responsible (with the help of others) for the alignment and development of curriculum, public relations, fundraising, finance, and other matters of policy and administration pertaining to the school. Oh, and I'll still get to teach a class or two each semester. It's a big job, but one I believe my education and experience (not to mention the wealth of mentoring relationships and supportive friendships I've benefitted from over the years) have prepared me for.

One other pleasant convergence: Doug and Julie have been asked to plant a new PCA church - City Presbyterian - in downtown OKC, starting with an initial gathering of core group members this summer. As if building and leading not just a school but an eventual school system weren't enough, helping to plant an urban church with dear friends we've known for 20 years (Doug and Julie were Megan's NavStaff at Oklahoma State after the three of us graduated from Mizzou together) just seems to be icing on the cake. Who knows? Doug and I might even get ThirtySomewhere finished now that we'll be in the same town.

Spring has brought more than April showers or May flowers for the Dunham family, and we're grateful to God for his leading. While we're looking down the barrel of what promises to be a very intense 3-4 months, we are trusting God to provide above and beyond what we need emotionally, physically, and spiritually as he continues to guide us in this new step of faith. Here's a look at what's ahead (thanks in advance for any prayers on our behalf):

MARCH

10-11: Westminster Christian Academy Parent/Teacher Conferences
11-12: Crossroads Presbyterian Fellowship Women's Retreat
19-24: Spring Break (house-hunting in Oklahoma City)
28: Opening Day (JV Baseball)

APRIL

8-9: Biblical Imagination Conference (Dallas)
15: Classical Conversations Banquet
22-24: Easter Break

MAY

7: Studio Forte Ballet Recital
12: Last Day (JV Baseball)
14: St. Louis Children's Choirs Spring Concert
23: WCA Graduation
27: WCA Last Day of School

JUNE

6: First Week at Veritas (Oklahoma City)
16-18: Association of Classical & Christian Schools Conference (Atlanta)
24-25: Biblical Imagination Conference (Apple Creek, OH)

For Megan's perspective on the move, click over to Half-Pint House.

Christmas Eve Assembly Goes Digital

Some do Christmas Eve assembly with wrenches and screwdrivers; I do it with Photoshop and InDesign. Here's the U2 concert poster I put together tonight for the girls to unwrap together on Christmas morning. Since this concert will be their first real rock show, we thought such a milestone merited a customized promotional piece they can hang in their rooms to build anticipation (not that that will be a problem - they're all already big fans).

Just training them up in the way they should go...or something.

Three's Company

Last week, Megan posted this on her Facebook page:

"You all may laugh at Craig and his canine bond with Peaches, but I tell you that doggie just saw a pair of his jeans hanging in our room and she thought it was him. She went over to the jeans, sat near them and wagged her tail furiously waiting for him to pick her up."

Tonight, Megan caught Peaches trying to bond with more of my wardrobe and is starting to get suspicious (I might even say jealous) of the pooch (it probably doesn't help that the dog is now sleeping nights with us at my feet under the blankets).

I hope we're not going to have to get counseling over this...

Half-Pint House: The Rap Album Cover

Yo, check out my posse. Megan took some pics of the girls today. In light of the background (train with graffiti), I suggested that instead of "Cheese" they say something like "Word to your mother" to be a little more hip and get down with their bad selves.

Paging Dr. Dre...

Veggies Gone Wild

Once again, Megan won free tickets ("Golden Circle seating," no less!) to yet another "live" show, this time a performance of the Veggie Tales Sing Yourself Silly Tour. For the entire night, we were bombarded with oversized vegetables singing silly songs. We also took part in a special "meet and greet" with Bob and Larry (or two imposters with actual arms and legs who looked like Bob and Larry) during which I was able to tell them how much I loved their work (or something).

Who says I don't have a life?

We Interrupt Our Normally Non-Scheduled Weekend...

Here are some groovy events - several of which I'd love to see a familiar face at if you're in the area - that I'll be part of in the next six weeks. (If you or anyone you know has questions about the conferences, click the links or let me know and I'll fill in details.)

SEPTEMBER

17-18: Griggsville Apple Festival (Uptown Square, Griggsville, IL)
I've written about this cultural tour de force before, but words and pictures just cannot do justice to my hometown's annual fall celebration; you just have to be there. That said, I'm once again looking forward to more time on the farm (now in harvest mode) since our Labor Day visit two weekends ago, as well as to seeing some former high school classmates from back in the day (when you graduated in a class of 30, it doesn't take much to have a yearly class reunion each September).

24-26: Annual Fall Family Camping Trip (Babler State Park, Wildwood, MO)
We always schedule this trip the weekend following Parent/Teacher conferences (after talking with parents for six hours straight and the struggles many of them are having in connecting with their students, I'm usually newly motivated to spend time with my own kids). New activity this year: the family bike ride, as all six of us are bike-mobile (now we just have to figure out how to get all six bikes there).

OCTOBER

1-2: Tour de Cape (Downtown Pavilion, Cape Girardeau, MO)
Speaking of bikes, I've been pseudo-training (about 30 miles/week) to take my first "century ride" this weekend with a couple of co-workers (both of whom are much better bikers than I am). I've never before ridden 100 miles in a day, so we'll see how much Advil it takes to do it when it's all said and done.

8-10: Biblical Imagination Conference with Michael Card (Fredericksburg, VA)
I wrote about this not too long ago, and it seems a little strange that we're less than a month out already. I'm pretty stoked to hang out on the east coast with Mike and company. This is the first conference of what I hope are many to come, so if you're too far from D.C. this time around, hang in there: odds are we'll be coming to you soon.

15-17: TwentySomeone/ThirtySomewhere Conference (Memphis, TN)
My good buddy, Mitchell Moore, is a pastor at Second Presbyterian in Memphis, and he's asked me to come down to speak at a retreat for peeps in their 20s and 30s. Revisiting the material (as well as working on some new for the next book) has been really fun, and I'm still "smokin' what I'm sellin'" (figuratively speaking, of course) in terms of making the most of these decades. Megan and the girls are coming with me, and we'll sight-see around Memphis on Saturday afternoon.

22-24: Megan at The Relevant Conference (Harrisburg, PA)
The good news: I'll be home (and probably won't leave the house if I can help it); the other news: Megan won't be. As she did in Colorado in July, my wife will be taking in another blogging conference - this one of a more devotional than technical nature - in Pennsylvania. I'm interested to see what comes out of her time there, as well as to what degree the two conferences overlap and supplement each other.

That's all for now. We now return you to our normally non-scheduled weekend...

Children of the Corn (No, Not THOSE Kids)

We were on the farm for Labor Day weekend and enjoyed some of the most perfect weather ever for camping out, playing baseball, fishing, swimming, roasting hot dogs, and star gazing from the back of a straw-filled wagon at night. We also had a great time with Mom and Dad hosting friends of theirs from Chicago (of course, Peaches was a huge hit).

As nature's beauty tends to inspire, our 11-year-old ended up writing the first draft of her descriptive paragraphs project about the weekend. Folks, we may have another writer on our hands (though out of curiosity, I went to I Write Like and plugged in the paragraphs below for fun; the analysis came back as "Stephen King," which was a little disturbing, I suppose, but nevertheless a nice title tie-in to the picture above). Enjoy.

"I felt the sharp rocks sting my bare feet as I walked across the gravel driveway that led to the door of my grandparents' house. The feel of the wind made me calm, as the glowing sun shone upon me. My lungs were filled with fresh country air. I could smell the pine trees. I admired the lovely patterns on each and every flower. The smooth blades of grass soothed my aching feet as I skipped across the homemade baseball field that my cousins and I loved.

I heard the birds singing their sweet songs, and the rustle of the breeze as it played between the tall stalks of corn. When I camped outside that night, the cicadas chirped, as the woodpeckers plowed into a tree. It was all a natural lullaby. My aunt and I took a stroll down to the pond where the trees were formed into the most perfect shade. We watched the pond as the ripples of water floated across the surface to the other side. I picked soybeans and snacked all the way home. As I jumped in my van, I stared out the window as the corn waved goodbye."

Peaches

Meet the newest member of our family: Peaches. The story goes that somebody left her with a note tied to a stop sign in South City. A single-parent family took her in but couldn't keep pets in their apartment, so they contacted a seminary couple in the neighborhood who put the request on the Cov Love email list we started five years ago. Long story short, we're glad owners of this cute little pup.

Though it's only been 24 hours or so, we've really been amazed at her sweet disposition, her non-existent barking, and the fact that she only required one bathroom run in the middle of her first night here. She's respectful of the cats (which is fortunate for her, as any one of them would drop her like a bad habit if she were otherwise), loves ham and has learned to sit and wait patiently for it (she's a little malnourished, so we've given her plenty of opportunities to learn manners this weekend), and survived multiple hours of 12 sets of little girl hands this afternoon as we had several families over after church this afternoon to meet her (the whole thing looked so exhausting that I took a nap on her behalf).

We think she's got some cocker spaniel in her, but we're not sure what else (rat terrier? beagle?), so if you've got some canine counsel, feel free to offer your insights. All we know for sure is she's a sweet little puppy who seems more than happy being part of our family (cats and all), and we're glad to make her the newest addition to the Half Pint House.

What I Learned on Summer Vacation

I've been up to my eyeballs with school starting this week and haven't had much time or energy to write. I did have a deadline this week for my monthly post over at ModSquad, though, so head over there for some new material. The post is called "What I Learned on Summer Vacation."

On the Yard Sale

So we had a yard sale this past Saturday. Apart from the 95-degree temperature and the 100% humidity, it was good: we got rid of some stuff, made some money, and had a very good reason at the end of the day to collectively hit the sack at 9:30 p.m.

Personally, yard sales are too intimate an experience for me to really enjoy; there's just something awkward about strangers publicly evaluating what you once thought you wanted. Maybe I just felt self-conscious about all the old Stephen King novels I was getting rid of (would you want to know that YOUR neighbor has read a majority of the man's books?), but the whole process seems a huge invasion of privacy.

As I was enduring the invasion, I took some mental notes on the variety of yard-salers we encountered during the day. I don't pretend that this list is exhaustive (and feel free to add your own set of usual suspects in the comments below), but generally speaking, here's who I did business with during our particular sale on Saturday:

The Early Bird: This person pays no attention to any printed given times as to when the yard sale officially begins; if the sign says 8 a.m., then 7:30 it is. Thankfully, she doesn't talk much and rarely gets offended if and when you have to ask her to move so you can set up another table of items you're trying to sell, so it's usually best to just let this one be.

The Snob: This person parks right in front of and as close as possible to your yard, gets out of her still-running car with her nose stuck up in the air to pick up your sale's "scent," and surveys what she already knows you have - nothing she would ever want. Having convinced herself of this truth, she gets back in the car and drives off, grateful once again that she did not waste her time on your junk (and, honestly, good riddance).

The Critic: This person is a distant cousin to The Snob, the difference being that he actually gets out of the car to look through your stuff. Unfortunately, while The Snob communicates her disdain for your offerings from a driving-off distance, The Critic chooses to verbalize his disgust on-site instead, particularly if he feels you have overpriced anything (and especially if he secretly wants to buy it).

The Cheapskate: This person looks through everything - and I mean everything - you have in your yard, taking his time to muse over what its value must have been to you at some point and wondering what must have happened that you would put it up for sale now. Having so cheaply entertained himself with various and sundry scenarios and plots, he finally picks one item priced at fifty cents and asks if you would take forty for it (after all, one's man's memories are another man's bargains).

The Haggler: While often confused with The Cheapskate, The Haggler is actually willing to spend money for what she wants...so long as the sale price is below the amount that's currently listed. Hers is not a campaign motivated by finances but by victory, as every piece she has ever purchased at a yard sale comes with a complete oral tradition of how much it was, how much she ended up talking the owner down, and why the difference between the two prices makes her superior to the rest of humanity.

The Scanner: This person is usually drinking Starbucks and shows up with his own hand-held bar code scanner, which he uses to check resell value on anything with a bar code. Never mind what the item actually is or what the book in his hand might be about, all this guy cares about is what it's currently going for on Ebay or Amazon, as this will determine his purchase decision. This was a new one for me.

The Road Trip: This person is not really a person but multiple persons all crammed into one vehicle out hitting yard sales en masse. The goal (I assume) is to have fun going to yard sales together (which seems incredibly flawed thinking in itself); the reality is that with so many people in the car, there's no room for what one might want to buy, especially if it's a bigger item. Tip: Be sure to get their money before you promise to hold something for them while they go and get another vehicle (no sense losing a possible sale if they happen to get in an accident joy-riding).

The Buzzard: This person shows up toward the end of the sale and, since she missed all your good stuff, somehow feels entitled to a much lower price than the one listed before she will even think about buying your pathetic leftovers. Sadly, though you'd like to ask her as a matter of principle where she gets off imposing her discount assumption on you, you know she has you, as you really don't want to haul your stuff back in the house; thus, you end up (grudgingly) caving to her demands.

I'm sure there were plenty of others I could list if I really wanted to get mean, but I'll stop for now (I do wonder if different geographic areas of the country sport different yard-saler species or if they're just variations of the ones above). Of course, there were plenty of really nice people - friends, neighbors, people we'd never met before - who stopped by as well, bought some lemonade or stuff, and just talked a while, which was nice.

All in all, it was a good day and I'm glad we did it, though as with every yard sale, I'm always glad when it's over and am in no hurry to do one again anytime soon.

Helping Dad (or Anybody Else) Get Organized

The Levenger catalog arrived yesterday. For those (like myself) slightly affected by OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), such a collection of "tools for serious readers" can be hugely tempting. Unfortunately, for those (like myself) more than slightly affected with the other OCD (obsolete cash deposits), alas, the organizational options must be relegated to little more than inspiration. Sigh.

While I like Levenger's stuff (so much so that I even read the owner's book, The Little Guide to Your Well-Read Life, when it came out five years ago - it was okay), I don't understand why it all has to be so  expensive; even in this particular "Senational Summer Sale" catalog, their idea and my idea of a discount (even a 70% discount) were just too different to justify whipping out the credit card and placing an order.

The only thing I've ever actually purchased from Levenger are personalized notecards (which I still like, but even then, they were on sale and Megan found some sweet discount that applied as well). Still, as I've been organizing my desk, books, and files this week, as well as setting some new goals for the next 2-5 years, here are a few items that caught my eye and at least helped inspire my efforts this morning:

Carousel Revolving Bookshelf - I'd love to have about four of these scattered throughout the house. Or (better idea), put all four on top of each other stacked in a corner and have a really cool floor-to-ceiling carousel of books to pick from! Yes!

Lap Desk (with Cubby) - I like the look of this, but I especially like the little cubby/compartment that the desk surface covers (apparently, there are magnets that hold the lid down so all your stuff doesn't fly out). A good alternative to having to sit at a desk or table to hand-write something (for those of us who still do that kind of thing).

Margin Pad - Even though I don't have a desktop computer, I really like the size, look, and design of this little blotter pad. Oh, and it can be monogrammed (whatever).

Concept Pad - When I used to spend a lot more time at the same desk day in/day out, I had one of these. I'd usually make it about a week on the same piece of paper, but then reveled at the Friday re-write for the next week, leaving off everything crossed out that I had accomplished. Visual progress - loved it.

Repertoire Notebooks - I think these notebooks are pretty nifty, especially because of the varying pad sizes, black elastic bands, and golf pencils in their own loops. Also, the pad for the largest one is set up like the margin pad above, and the cover colors are nice, too.

So, there you have it: one of my rare (very rare - I don't even have a category for stuff like this) product posts. Levenger should give me a commission (or at least four Carousel Bookshelves to stack on top of each other), don't you think? Maybe these or other items will spur you on to new levels of organization, or maybe you'll find something cool for Father's Day (just remembered it's this weekend).

Anybody got any other links and/or ideas that you've found helpful in organizing your life? I could use some more inspiration (as I'm sure others could as well).

Lawn Mower Civics

Mowing the yard is one of my favorite ways to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend. I suppose caring for the tiny piece of land I own is my noble attempt at recognizing the American traditions of honoring soldiers' sacrifices and observing summer's arrival.

Perhaps like many, I don't always think about the freedoms we Americans enjoy, which is why Memorial Day (and what we do on Memorial Day) is important. As we've done in the past, we went to Jefferson Barracks today (here are some pics):

 

 

Mowing on Saturday and attending the Memorial Day service today got me thinking about ability - specifically, all I am able to do in the U.S. because I happen to live legally within her borders and laws. Here are just a few abilities I have as a U.S. citizen not necessarily guaranteed elsewhere in the world:

I'm able to have four children (all girls). In China, I could only have one child (and the government would want that one to be a boy, so any girls might get aborted).

I'm able to keep a blog or a write a new book without having to submit either to a censor for approval. In North Korea, neither is really an option (Internet and independent ideas don't jive too well with totalitarian government regimes).

I'm able to freely live and believe according to the Christian Scriptures. While ours is not (nor ever has been) a "Christian" nation, I rejoice at being able to live freely as a Christian within our nation (try testing day-to-day religious diversity in, oh, say, Iran or Saudi Arabia and see where and what that gets you).

Now, lest you think this is just a nice patriotic post on freedom (I've tried those a few times before - 1, 2, 3, 4 - but they never seem to end up too warm and fuzzy), let me talk honestly about some personal inabilities that I wrestle with in our fair democracy (for those of you with USA bumper stickers and T-shirts, you might want to stop reading now):

I'm unable to trust elected political leaders. It doesn't matter the level - national, state, local - nor the branch - executive, legislative, judicial - nor the political affiliation - Democrat, Republican, or Independent - politicians do not have the luxury of asking for my trust and assuming they have it. I am sick of the lack of integrity, of the abuse of power, of the CYA spin, and of the arrogance to think I do not understand enough to know what's really going on. As far as I'm concerned, politicians can save the rhetoric for their consciences (if they still have any left); their words no longer affect me.

I'm unable to trust government workers. Call it guilt by association, but I'm tired of hearing about those who work for a government agency who seem all too content to siphon off their part of my taxes with little to no thought as to for whom they're really working (example). I'm not saying there isn't a place for public service (and I'm not saying every government worker is like this), but there is a philosophical difference between earning a living and spending an apportionment, and most long-term government leaders and workers don't understand it.

I'm unable to trust the media as a true Fourth Estate. It's not as if I did before, but the more I read or watch supposed "trusted" news sources, the more the agendas (liberal, conservative, etc.) spill over. One can blame the Internet, I suppose, for severely crippling the budgets of most newspapers and magazines, but someone needs to explain to our media outlets that their job is not to sell stories but to tell them. I'm done with opinion columnists masquerading as reporters (are you listening, Newsweek?) and find myself incredibly skeptical of the phrase "Here's what's making news" when it should really be "Here's what WE'RE making news."

I'm unable to trust the American Dream. This has never been much of a motivator nor temptation for me, but if it were, it's become even less so in recent recession years. While cries of socialism/communism have found their way into the public conversation of late, pure laissez-faire capitalism is not the answer either. If the past ten years have taught us anything, I would hope it would be that life and meaning are bigger than an economic system, regardless of which system it is.

Jane Jacobs, in her 2005 book, Dark Age Ahead, argued that "we're stumbling into the same cultural decline that befell the Roman Empire." One of her overarching premises was that mass amnesia - not only forgetting something but forgetting that you have forgotten it - is the main cause of a Dark Age. "When the abyss of lost memory by a people becomes too deep and too old," she wrote, "attempts to plumb it are futile."

Jacobs went on to identify five pillars of society we need and have come to depend on:

• community and family
• higher education
• the effective practice of science and science-based technology
• taxes and governmental powers directly in touch with needs and possibilities
• accountability by the learned professions

She concluded that we in America "are dangerously close to the brink of lost memory and cultural uselessness" concerning these. I concur: We are suffering from mass amnesia these days about most things having to do with taxes, governmental powers, and accountability in the economic, scientific, technological, and (sadly) even religious sectors of our society. We have forgotten that we have forgotten. Memorial Day calls us to remember; interestingly, Deuteronomy does, too (fourteen times, as a matter of fact).

We in America are and always have been a country of ability, but are there others who sense a growing tide of inability washing away the sands of strength from our U.S. shores (at least the ones not covered in oil - thank you, BP)? Care to add to either list (ability or inability), or offer something you think we've forgotten that we've forgotten? I'd welcome your thoughts.

Until then, I may go mow some more...

Summer 2010 Preview, Etc.

Sitting here on a Sunday night listening to some Lucinda Williams and doing a little writing. It's been a while since I've done a summary post of sorts, so since Megan and the girls are out of town and we're collectively an entire season behind to really make the LOST finale worth watching, here are a few things I've been thinking about and/or looking forward to:

School: This week is finals week, so I'll be spending most of my time grading. The good news is, unlike the past three years when I was evaluating projects and papers, I'm going into finals week with nothing other than finals to grade, so that should make for a little less consuming week in general.

In other school news, I've signed on for another year at Westminster, but my role is changing a bit as I'll be leaving the world of freshmen New Testament behind for fourth section of sophomore Ethics and one section of senior Worldviews next year. I'm glad for the transition all around.

One last note on the school front (this time the homeschool front), we're going to be entering a new stage of education here at home. This fall, our two oldest girls will be full-time students at Central Christian School in Clayton, while Megan continues leading the Classical Conversations group and homeschools our younger two (here are details from Megan's perspective).

Summer: In addition to writing (more on that below), my primary goal in June is to hang out with the little ladies, read some books, and get a few projects done around here. In addition, I'll help coach our Westminster summer baseball team for a week in June, as well as get trained on some new school information software, as I've been asked to be a mentor teacher to the rest of the staff this fall.

July ups the ante considerably in terms of travel, as we're planning a family trip to Colorado Springs, as the girls are now old enough (somehow) to attend The Navigators' camping programs (Eagle Lake and Eagle's Nest) we helped lead back in the day. I'll try to see as many folks as I can in a few days' time before I jump on a plane from Denver to Portland for my third year as part of Westminster's Summer Seminar. This time, I'll be investing ten days with 25 soon-to-be seniors in Washington state instead of South Dakota, after which I'll fly back to Colorado and then we'll all drive back to Missouri.

August sees staff reporting as earlier as the week of August 9th, but I'll have a few publishing projects to edit and design from the Washington trip, as well as a fair amount of prep work to finalize for my new Worldviews class. Orientation starts the 12th and the first day of class is the 16th.

Studying: Despite baseball high-jacking my time and energy, I've been reading in a couple areas of interest this spring, not the least of which has been the study of the end times, or eschatology. N.T. Wright's book, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, has been helpful, as has revisiting my notes from seminary (particularly Dr. Dan Doriani's notes from his Epistles and Revelation class). Of the three years I've taught Revelation to my freshmen New Testament classes, I feel like I've done the best job this year.

I'm also finishing up a couple books on education, namely John Dewey and the Decline of American Education by Henry T. Edmondson III, Curriculum 21 edited by Heidi Hayes-Jacobs, and The Secret of TSL by William Ouchi. It seems I've been reading these for a while (and I have), but there's been some good content that's come as a result.

Looking ahead, I have some Worldviews reading to do this summer, including (Re)Thinking Worldview by J. Mark Bertrand; The Compact Guide to World Religions edited by Dean C. Halverson (ed.); The Journey by Peter Kreeft; Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey; and The Universe Next Door by James W. Sire. Should be fun.

Writing: Now that my second book, Learning Education: Essays & Ideas from My First Three Years of Teaching, is finished, I'm turning back to finishing the ThirtySomewhere manuscript this summer. I'm still looking for a formal publisher to get behind it, but now that I've experimented with the self-publishing gig a bit (and am still experimenting), I may go with what I've got at some point this fall and see what happens. We'll see.

I plan to continue blogging here, though I really wonder how much people are interested in anything longer than 140 Twitter characters these days. Speaking of which, I've enjoyed Twitter enough to keep using it, but there again I just have no way of really knowing how far the medium's actual reach is so as to invest more time in it. Oh well.

Guess that's it for now. There's more, but this is long enough. I'll try to post a few more thoughts later on this week (nothing brings out literary creativity like the desire to avoid grading). Have a good one.

Five Years Later

Here are a few shots from Covenant Seminary's 2010 graduation, in which I earned my second masters, this one in educational ministries. Here I'm receiving my diploma from seminary president Bryan Chapell while commencement speaker Alistair Begg looks on):

With professor Jerram Barrs (I was Jerram's teaching assistant for a year-and-a-half and love him dearly):

With Dr. Donald Guthrie, lead professor of Covenant's education program (I am the Padawan learner to his Jedi knight):

With Dr. Bob Burns, professor of educational leadership and an elder at our church:

With Tom Rubino, with whom I started summer Greek in 2005 and at last finished in 2010 (Tom earned his M.Div. and M.A.C. (counseling) degrees). It meant a lot to both of us to start and finish together.

And of everyone at commencement, here are the five who matter most (thanks, ladies):

It is finished.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

In the past week, I've coached five baseball games, the last of which counts almost for two as it went 12 innings (high school games are seven innings). The good news: we won every game (even the 12-inning one); the other news: by the end of the week (or really by Wednesday) I was completely exhausted.

When I got home Friday night after school, a seminary class, and a reunion dinner with my family to reintroduce myself as husband/father, I was so tired that I was in bed and asleep by 7:30...that is, until Megan came to bed at 11:30, which is when I woke up and couldn't go back to bed. I knew I was still wiped out, but I could not for the life of me fall back asleep. And now it's early morning. Nuts.

I remember taking a psychology class my sophomore year in college and reading about sleep deprivation experiments done on mice. Somehow, before taking that class, I had honestly believed that one's need for sleep was simply mind over matter; we didn't really need to sleep, but it was a good idea to do so anyway. I'm not kidding: I honestly thought this (in the words of Bugs Bunny, "What a maroon.")

Then I read about experiments in which researchers filled an aquarium with four inches of water and placed a long triangle-shaped column the length of the aquarium floor. The edge of the triangle jutted up out of the water by an inch or so, and the mice would perch themselves on the edge so as not to fall in and get wet. However, when the mice fell asleep, their grip on the edge relaxed, they fell off, woke up, and scrambled back onto the edge, newly awakened but increasingly sleep-deprived. This went on for days and weeks until they finally died from sheer exhaustion.

Maybe it's my farm background, but I've never been a real night owl; even in college, I was usually in bed by 9:30 and up before everyone else in the dorm. This all changed 8-10 years ago in Colorado, as I started getting up in the middle of the night multiple times - sometimes because of crying kids, but often because I just kept waking up and couldn't go back to sleep. I began to notice that I didn't dream anymore, and I needed naps more than I used to because I was just so tired all the time. I also snored, which along with my constant getting in and out of bed, kept Megan up at night.

This sleep pattern continued when we moved to St. Louis five years ago, but it didn't make sense because we were through the crying-kids-at-night stage, yet I was still waking (and getting) up. Studying in seminary became especially difficult as I couldn't read anything even early in the evening without falling asleep 20 minutes later. Then, when I started teaching full-time in addition to everything else, I would come home from school and have to lay down for a good hour, as I was so wiped out from the day.

At Megan's request, I finally did a sleep study at St. Luke's Sleep Medicine and Research Center and found out that I woke myself up approximately 100 times a night due to sleep apnea. Apparently, I have very narrow nasal passages that hinder my breathing and keep my brain from dropping into REM sleep because it's too busy making sure I don't stop breathing altogether by causing me to gasp for more air. Yet because I had been kind of asleep, I never really noticed (though Megan did, especially the gasping part).

For the past couple of years now, I have been sleeping with a mask that's connected to a ventilator of sorts and pushes air through my nasal passages to keep them from collapsing during the night. The mask took some getting used to (I'm a tummy sleeper, so I've had to learn to sleep more on my side), but the change has been remarkable: I sleep harder, I rarely wake up enough to get up in the middle of the night, and best of all, the dreams are back and that really makes me happy (I have cool dreams).

Except last night, when there were no dreams because there was no sleep. I was afraid this might happen going to bed so early, but I had little choice - my body just wouldn't stay up any longer. So, I'm a little tired this morning, but as this is my last clear Saturday to work on my seminary capstone project, I need to resist the urge to try to go back to bed. Thankfully, I have four alarm clocks with legs who will do the trick when they get up pretty soon, but for now, I'm glad a night like last night is the exception and not the rule anymore.

(Note: I'm not paid to endorse sleep studies, but if you're constantly tired, give some thought to whether it could be because of poor sleep. As was true in my case, you may not know what you don't know.)

Happy April Fool's

It's April Fool's Day. As Mark Twain wrote in Pudd'nhead Wilson, "This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four." Indeed.

I'm not one much for physical pranks (to the chagrin of my daughters), but I do enjoy a good pause-of-the-intellectual-faculties kind of joke. This probably has something to do with how enthralled I was as a 14-year-old kid in 1985, when Sports Illustrated published George Plimpton's now-infamous story about Sidd Finch, a rookie pitcher who planned to play for the Mets and could reportedly throw a baseball at 168 mph with pinpoint accuracy.

I bought it hook, line, and sinker...and laughed at myself for doing so later.

Inspired by that experience, I suppose, I played a trick on Megan's readership last year by hacking her blog with my own piece of journalistic fiction that I thought I'd link up today in case you missed it the first time around.

Happy April Fool's day.

This Just In

We interrupt this discussion to bring you Megan's latest post - on baseball. Hints of spring, familiarity of home, America's pastime done on the cheap...I'm in love all over again.

We Were Young and We Were Improving

When we moved from Colorado back to the Midwest five years ago, Megan got her first real taste of my tiny hometown's passion for all things basketball and baseball. While she mocked it a bit then, she's since come around to a more accepting position, which was helpful this month, as I was invited back to Griggsville to join in celebrating the career of my junior high school coach, Ken Stauffer.

Coach Stauffer's coaching legacy includes 1,130 wins split between Griggsville's seventh and eighth grade basketball teams, countless regional and sectional trophies, two state basketball championships (with more appearances), and induction into the Illinois Basketball Coaches Association Hall of Fame. He retires with something north of a .750 winning percentage with only two losing seasons over his 38-year career. (For the record, the 7th and 8th grade teams I played on were a combined 39-2. Booyah.)

 

Speaking of those teams, here are seven of the eight guys in my grade who played for Coach Stauffer all through junior high school. Six of the seven of us went on to experience continued team success in our high school years, and as this was the first time all of us had been together in Griggsville in 25 years, a picture seemed appropriate.

As part of the celebration, the school had pulled out a lot of old trophies and pictures, one of which I had completely forgotten about from 1982, but that Megan and the girls found particularly humorous. I was one of two fifth graders to make the eighth grade team that year, and though I didn't get to play in the tournament, I went on to enjoy good success in both junior and senior high baseball later (my only real credential for what I'm doing this spring...ahem).

 

All that to say, it was a fun weekend at home honoring Coach Stauffer, seeing old teammates, and reliving a few of the glory days. Granted, Megan reminded me of her original Uncle Rico post, and my girls couldn't quite believe I was once the age that my oldest is now, but to quote my favorite Midwestern poet:

That's when a sport was a sport
And groovin' was groovin'
And dancin' meant everything
We were young and we were improvin'

Laughin', laughin' with our friends
Holdin' hands meant somethin', baby
Outside the club, 'Cherry Bomb'
Our hearts were really thumpin'

Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"
Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"

-- from "Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp

Yeah.

Kids (and Parents) These Days

Megan and I had a memorable evening Friday night that got us talking about some things that, well, we're not sure we're excited to be talking about. Maybe we're showing our age or our upbringing, but last night was an introspective evening for us in a lot of ways.

The cause of this introspection was Westminster's Christmas Banquet - a formal, end-of-semester dinner for which we were asked last-minute to serve as chaperones. Being the cheapskates we are, we were happy to get gussied up for four hours with 500 of our closest high school-age friends - the food at the Airport Hilton was decent, the service was good, and it was a nice way to officially kick off Christmas Break (even though I've STILL got grading to do this weekend to meet the Monday morning deadline).

Our first moment of introspection came as we dropped our four girls off at our pastor's house for the evening. Our daughters and their daughters (four also) are all roughly the same ages and absolutely love each other, so that wasn't the issue; what was different was Andrew and Lisa also had a Christmas party Friday evening, so the eight little ladies were going to be on their own for the night. As their oldest is 12 and our oldest is ten days from being 11, we were okay with this, but it was a bit surreal leaving the girls without adult supervision for four hours. It seemed we'd crossed a threshold of sorts, so we talked about it for the 15-minute drive to the hotel and decided that, indeed, we had.

When we showed up (early) for the banquet, we found our seats (in back), so we sat and talked about what we might expect this evening. Megan doesn't know many of my students as their paths don't really cross, so the evening was going to be a parade of nameless high schoolers for her; I, on the other hand, knew probably half of the students by name from class or the hallways, and was excited to see them in a different light, one which might give a hint into who they are and are becoming outside of my classroom.

Unfortunately, what I got was an eyeful of how little parents seem to care about their kids (especially their daughters).

With guys in tuxedos and girls in dresses, we expected to see a fair amount of awkwardness as the students adjusted to their fancy duds; what we didn't expect was the ridiculous amounts of make-up, skin, and cleavage we were bombarded with, nor the (short) leather skirts and (tall) stiletto heels that came with them. I couldn't count the number of times I saw girls having to pull up the tight tops of their low strapless dresses in an honest effort to keep themselves from walking right out of them.

The guys were awkward in their own way (one freshman actually wore his cumberbund up around his ribs all night and looked like a mover in one of those support belts to aid his bad back), but you can't tell me they didn't enjoy just sitting back and taking in everything that was about to fall out right before their eyes. I've never seen these guys smile as much as they did last night.

At the risk of sounding like a puritanical prude, the question that kept coming to my mind was "Where are the parents?" Oh, I forgot: they were busy planning the "after-party," the non-WCA-sponsored dance at another hotel where, from reports I always get from the kids the week after such events, is where the real party happens.

Apparently, in addition to providing the DJ and dance floor, these parents "supervise" the opportunity for high school students to "grind" on one another to their hearts' (among other bodily organs') content. I can't count the number of students who've asked me over the past three years if grinding is wrong - they bring it up every time we study (get this) the seventh commandment prohibiting adultery. When I tell them that, yes, grinding is wrong because it's basically "sex with clothes on," you wouldn't believe the pushback I get. You'd think I had accused Bill Clinton of having sex with Monica Lewinsky or something.

This - all this - made up the discussion Megan and I had on the drive back to pick up the girls. If we enroll the girls at WCA (or any school), do they accept a boy's invitation to be his date at a banquet. If they want to, sure, so long as she's dressed appropriately (that is, wearing clothes) and simply going to enjoy the evening with a friend who happens to be male. Do we let them go to "after parties"? A trickier question, but one we will hopefully attempt to answer with them by talking about all the realities in play. Decisions like these come down to clued-in parent involvement - both now and (for us, at least, before) - and I'd sure like to see more of this informed kind at WCA.

Granted, not every WCA student nor every WCA parent is suspect in this, and I could name plenty of students who were appropriately dressed at the banquet who probably didn't attend the after-party due to parental intervention. But as a current high school teacher and future high school parent, let me encourage anyone with kids to re-consider the fact that no one's going to parent your kids for you; frankly, God didn't give us the option when he gave them to us. Hear the words of Deuteronomy 6:5-7:

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise."

In other words, we are to parent according to our love for God and the words of his Scripture, and we are to parent as we (and they) go. There are no breaks; it's 24-7, baby, and we will be held accountable for every decision we make (or don't make) in training up our children in the way they should go. Might I humbly suggest that public cleavage and grinding have no place in this biblical equation? God help us all.

'Tis the Season...

...when Megan bakes cookies and leaves them around for me to pretend to ignore. It's also when we put up a tree and clutter it (and the house) with all things Christmas holiday. Ah, the sights, sounds, smells, and stuff of the season.

But I digress. Lots going on this week. Here's a rundown:

• The two-year hostage situation of St. Louis' main east/west artery has ended, as I-64/40 is open again. If all goes according to plan, I should be able to cut 10 minutes off my once-25-minute commute to/from school and seminary, which is exciting. All in all, the process wasn't that bad, but I wouldn't want to do it again anytime soon.
• I'm finishing up the fourth and fifth commandments with my Ethics students, as well as the book of Matthew with my New Testament kids this week. Finals are next week, so I've got a few tests to write and more than a few papers and assignments to grade. Glad to be two weeks away from Christmas break.
• This week is a big one in terms of finishing my seminary studies for the semester. I have an hour-long group project presentation on Monday, a paper due on Wednesday, and two finals to take by Sunday and then I'm down to my final semester at Covenant (and probably forever, unless some university wants to give me a full-ride to work on a Ph.D.). It will feel really good to finally be finished, both in a week and in five months.
• Megan and I are turning in our collective resignation letter to Nick at the Covenant bookstore, with our last day being December 30th (Nick's actually known about it for months, so it's not that big a deal). It was a good year-and-a-half at my first real retail experience, but I've got to make room to coach JV baseball in the spring, so something had to go.
• I'm planning to post my 2009 booklist in another week, so check back soon if you're still looking for readable gift ideas. I was initially disappointed in my list this year, but at second glance it's not that bad (though I definitely didn't read as much fiction as I have in the past). Look for it in another few days.
• Speaking of books as gifts, TwentySomeone wraps as well at Christmas as at graduation time (just wanted to let you know in case you're still looking for a present for a hard-to-buy-for twentysomething in your life).
• And speaking of Christmas, in addition to the obligatory family roadtrips/celebrations, we're planning to paint another room (dining) over the holidays and get some time hanging out here at home. We're also looking forward to seeing the movie Up in the Air with George Clooney, as parts were filmed in St. Louis (and some of those parts right here in our little Maplewood community).

Guess that's about it. If you're in town or passing through over the holidays, come on by - being the introverts that we are, we might not answer the door, but you'll enjoy the trip.

Move Over Mr. Moviefone

To fulfill Megan's last mission for Chevy this month, she had to put together her own one-minute commercial for the Traverse. I did my best Don Pardo/Mr. Moviefone mashup for the endeavor, and am now officially available for part-time voice-over work in the St. Louis area. Here's my resume:

Megan Dunham: Mommy Mission #4 from Megan Dunham on Vimeo.

First come, first served (I've got Pixar on the phone now).

Now Practicing in Maplewood

“Systems theory focuses on what man does and not
on his verbal explanations about why he does it.”
Murray Bowen in Family Therapy in Clinical Practice

I love Murray Bowen and systems theory. I remember first formally encountering Bowen’s work in my Marriage and Family class at Covenant and thinking, “Not only does this make complete sense in explaining the dynamics of human relationships, it also appeals to how systematic/systemic thinkers (like me) think.” From that point forward, I was hooked.

Having grown up on a farm, I was raised and led to believe that the world was basically secure rather than basically threatening, and that as long as I did my homework, finished my chores, and got to (and out of) bed at a decent hour, things would generally work out for the best. Mine was a fairly consistent existence with little drama involved.

As a result of my background, I sometimes struggle with others whose commotion tends to trump logic. In the past, I have resorted to more emotional outbursts myself in order to "out-emote the over-emotional," beating them at their own game, and (foolishly) trying to illustrate how ridiculous the drama can be. This, of course, is rarely effective (though somewhat disturbingly enjoyable), and I recognize that I assume this position when I fail to consider the systems (family, organizational, etc.) at play in the various situations.

Thankfully, after years of learning things the hard way, I'm finally on the brink of a major break-through by being able to give up my attempts to "out-emote the over-emotional"; indeed, my days of "trying to illustrate how ridiculous the drama can be" may be at an end.

What's my secret? I'm the father of four daughters. Here's my team of therapists:

It's good to be on the road to recovery...

(Photo by Kelly Park Photography)

Grandma and Grandpa

My folks were down this past weekend and we took a short walk around Forest Park on Saturday as it was so nice out. Megan snapped this picture and it's a nice one.

On the Family Picture

As you might discern from the title, we're scheduled for a 30-minute family photo session this morning at Forest Park. Unfortunately, it's going to be all of 45-degrees at the time of our 9 a.m. appointment, but at least it looks to be clear instead of rainy (otherwise, we were going to take the photos under The Muny awning, which would only be good if we got them to pay what we're paying as advertising).

Maybe it's because I don't consider myself particularly photogenic (or maybe I'm still scarred by the 1985 family portrait my mom, dad, and sisters had taken in front of an Olan Mills generic grey background set up in a Pike County hotel room - weird), but I've never really liked formal family pictures (I can't remove myself from the viewfinder); the other part is that, in the aforementioned family portrait in 1985, all of us dressed in pastel and looked like extras just off the set of Miami Vice.

Smiling is hard for me - not because I don't have things to smile about (nor do I NOT EVER smile, as some have accused me of); I just tend to smile at things that MAKE me smile, rather than because someone with a camera TELLS me to smile. Doing otherwise feels fake to me, and this feeling, combined with the fact that someone with a camera is about to capture my fakeness on film, makes me want to smile less.

I'm not one for posed portraits; I prefer a more candid approach. This, of course, requires more time than 30 minutes really allows, as it takes time for the family (okay, for ME) to feel comfortable enough to relax with someone looking at you through a lens and be photographed. I'm not a supermodel and am hardly infatuated with the idea of someone following me around with a camera to catch that perfect angle (actually, I don't think I have a perfect angle, let alone a "best side" - all mine are fairly flawed).

Crazy Horse refused to have his picture taken because he believed a picture stole the spirit of its subject. I think just the opposite: I hate having my picture taken because I've rarely taken one that I feel "captures" anything of who I am. Paul Simon once said that a song is like a picture that captures who you were at that time, but as you look back on it, you recognize that, indeed it's you, but it's NOT REALLY you, as you've changed.

I suppose that's why we take pictures, and I get the need to do so (especially if you have kids), but capturing such change and transition is why I write, not why I sit for a photo session. My daughters love playing with PhotoBooth on the Mac and capturing themselves in a picture, but I'm content to frame who I am with words rather than pictures, probably because words are black and white (and not pastel), or perhaps because there's a timelessness to words that pictures don't always preserve. I don't know.

All I know is I'm going to have to figure out how to smile for no reason today, and if you know me at all, I tend not to do much without a reason. At least the word most photographers use to coax a smile for the camera fits my thinking on the whole deal:

"Cheese!"

Daddy Madness

Making Beautiful Music

Continuing thoughts from my studies in Educational Leadership (see this previous post for more). Forgive the book report, but that's what it is (though hopefully more "reflective"):

“How you are tuned is another default setting in the system that is yourself. Each person is like a stringed instrument, tuned in a slightly different way from everyone else. As you go through life, your strings resonate with the environment based on your own particular tuning. Your tuning derives from many different things: your childhood experiences, genetic predispositions, cultural background, gender, and loyal identifications with various current and historical groups. Your tuning in your professional life may also be affected temporarily or long term by what is happening in your personal life.”
The Practice of Adaptive Leadership, p. 195

“Your sin ignites the sin in me.”
Bill Thrall in The Ascent of a Leader

Reading in chapter 15, I really liked and “resonated” (pun intended) with the metaphor of people being stringed instruments. I also really appreciated the admonishment to be more aware of our individual “tuning” so as to be more capable of discerning what’s going on in us and in others when tension and conflict emerge.

Contagion of sin fascinates me: passages in Psalms and Proverbs promise our sin will pass down to third and fourth generations, but we also pass on sin to those in the same generation (and often the same room). “Sin migration” intrigues because, though sad, it’s so tangible to watch. My vibrating strings cause others’ string to vibrate for good or ill (and vice versa) – sometimes we make beautiful music together; other times, not so much.

I liked how the authors talked about how vibrating strings “may prevent you from seeing the situation more fully and may inhibit you from responding in productive ways” (199). I apply this idea when, over a period of a few hours or even days, I can get worked up over something that someone else’s additional vibrations playing along inflame by adding to the noise. This is why gossip and slander are so dangerous for me, and why I do my absolute best to try to avoid them – they can vibrate all too easily in my own mind and heart.

I also liked how the authors said that “the more finely tuned your strings become over time, the more you are at risk of seeing the things happening in the environment you are sensitive to, even when they are not there” (199). As a very high intuitive, I’ve caught myself responding to a lot of string vibrations that either weren’t vibrating as loudly as I perhaps thought they were, or sometimes even at all. Combine my high receptivity with a high moral (at times, moralistic) perspective, and I can die on a hill for just about anything in minutes. (It’s hard to lead people when you’ve died before the battle begins.)

This leads to the third point I really appreciated: “When others know how you are tuned, they have more power to entice you to partner with them to support their own interests or to derail you from yours” (199). This could also be translated as “pulling one’s chain,” or in the authors’ language, “plucking one’s strings.” I wouldn’t say I’ve fallen prey to others too often in this, but that has more to do with the quality of character and trust of those around me more than anything.

As the authors note, our greatest strength is often our greatest weakness. My intuition can easily be an Achilles Heel in the hands of others with different motives other than love. Thankfully, those around me recognize who I am and how I think; they love me by not trying to stifle or manipulate my intuitive sense, but at the same time, they help keep it in perspective by trusting me with their need and desire for it. There's nothing like someone looking you in the eye and depending on you to keep you honest.

Apples to Apples: Case Study in Relativism

For those about to accuse me of party-pooping or being a kill-joy, rest assured: you're not the first and won't be the last. Keep in mind you're reading the blog of a guy who actually fell asleep at his senior prom, as well as on more than one occasion has used his newborn-, toddler-, and now nearly tween-children (even when behaving well) for as good an excuse as any for leaving a party early.

In other words, I'm not a game-player. But I appreciate that you might be. Just don't ask me to play with you. Ever.

That said, why blog about the game Apples to Apples? More than the fact that our family owns it, Megan and the girls love it, and we've had neighbor friends over last night and today, I'm writing about the game because it's perfect to teach kids about relativism.

I know, I know: leave it to me to ruin a perfectly good game. But stick with me (and no, I don't think the game is evil, nor have I thrown ours out). For those unfamiliar, here's the basic gist of Apples to Apples, according to the website Love to Know:

"The game is played by the Judge selecting one card from one deck and dealing cards from the other deck to the players. The object of the game is for the players to select the best card from their hand to match the word on the card selected by the Judge."

But here's what makes it "fun" (or so I'm told): the role of the Judge rotates, so the whole point of the game becomes trying to choose not what goes together, but what you think the person thinks goes together. This, of course, can vary depending on the Judge's relationship to you, not to mention his or her preferences, mood, or reason for choosing (or not choosing) what you present as a match.

In other words, egoism, which is a form of relativism. Thomas Hobbes would love this game; David Hume as well.

For instance, here's a round from my kids' Apples to Apples game last night:

Judge: my seven-year-old daughter

Apple card: crazy

Options: my family, cats, penguins, fairies

I might have thought my daughter would have labeled her family crazy (at times, we would certainly qualify). And yet, knowing my daughter as one particularly attune to others' feelings, she would never say that about us (or anyone else). She loves cats and likes penguins, but she doesn't think of them as crazy; they're just animals. But fairies? She's crazy about fairies (or, I should say, the idea of fairies), so that's what she chose. For her, crazy equals fairies.

Another round:

Judge: our friends' nine-year-old daughter

Apple card: dull

Options: pirates, mashed potatoes, orange juice, snowboarding

Personally, I would have chosen snowboarding here, because even after living in Colorado for twelve years, I just don't get snow sports (something about still being able to walk at the end of the day, etc.). However, as our friends' nine-year-old daughter (who is as black and white in the decision-making process as they come) was the judge, three guesses as to which she picked? Yep, mashed potatoes. For her, dull equals mashed potatoes.

Again, I'm not trying to bash Apples to Apples - it's an entertaining game and kids of all ages tend to like it (even some of my high school students are fans). Instead, I'm thinking that here's a perfect opportunity to teach our kids about worldview and human nature by helping them recognize what's really going on that makes the game so enjoyable.

When we're the Judge, we get to make the matches, while everyone else trying to win has to please us to do so. We don't have to have good reasons (or any reasons at all) for what we choose - the matches are in the eye of the beholder - and we can even choose against reason to spite someone else just because we can.

But what happens when we're not the Judge? What about when someone (or Someone) else is? Hmmm.

If you never invite me over for board games, I'll completely understand. And don't worry: I'll probably be relieved.

Camping with the Prophetesses

It's been a bittersweet weekend. The sweet part was our second annual camping trip to Babler State Park. Last year, Megan and I had officially decided that, since I am finished at school by noon on Friday of parent/teacher conferences each September, we would plan an annual fall camping trip that weekend. This year, being our second time around, we knew a lot more of what we were doing, had assembled a few extra pieces of equipment that came in handy, and really had a good time. Though we only stayed out one night due to the weather, we had some great time around the campfire and even got a memorable rainy (but not too wet) hike in before coming home Saturday afternoon.

Camping is something my girls absolutely love. Here are some pics to illustrate:

 

Good time had by all...until, that is, we got home. The relaxation and enjoyment of the previous twenty-four hours somehow evaporated later in the afternoon thanks to a room re-arrangement/clutter explosion (two things that absolutely drive me up a wall). This culminated in my own explosion at one of my daughter's blatant acts of disobedience (there had been several already), and I totally went off in anger before eventually shutting down emotionally.

To her credit, she came to me to ask forgiveness five minutes later, which I did not grant at the moment - partly because I was up to my eyeballs in putting together a set of bunk beds, but mostly because I was still very, very angry. New tears as she left the room told me I was being selfish, but I hardened my heart. Thankfully, later that night (and again of her initiative), we were able to reconcile the shared tension caused by her disobedience and my overreaction to it. But then, another daughter, who was lying in the bunk above and listening to our conversation, asked a very convicting question:

"Daddy," she said, "who do you obey?"

"What?" I asked, fighting my defensiveness.

"Who do you obey?" she repeated. "We're supposed to obey our parents. Mommy's supposed to obey you. Who do you obey?"

I was dumbfounded. Though I don't think she was trying to make a point, the power of her question was not lost on me. I paused for a good twenty seconds, trying to come up with anything I could say that would not betray the hypocrisy I felt surging through my body. I awkwardly rattled off the best list I could come up with: God, our church's session, my headmaster and department head at school, the President and our elected authorities, etc., but it felt so fake.

Was she asking for the list of who I was supposed to obey, or the list of those I really did - that is, doing what I was asked, with the right heart attitude, and in an immediate manner (which is what we've taught our girls make up true obedience)? I was so shaken by the question that, as I went to bed and rehashed the events of the day, I wasn't sure I truly obeyed anybody. Even this Sunday morning, I'm still not sure.

Earlier in the week, yet another daughter - one who was to directly benefit from the aforementioned re-arrangement of her room - said to me at bedtime:

"Daddy, I promise I'll get my room picked up so you can put the bunk beds up. Or at least I hope I promise."

I've thought about her statement for days, as it seems to sum up the worst of my blackened and unfaithful heart: "I promise...or at least I hope I promise." How often is an unsure, wavering "promise" (rather than the true, unfailing variety) really what I mean when I use the same words...in my prayers? in my vows? in my parenting? "I promise...or at least I hope I promise." Could I be any more despicable as a Christian? as a husband? as a father? I am so ashamed and in need of the gospel of God's grace.

I confess that, after this week and weekend, I feel like Philip the evangelist, who the Bible says, "had four unmarried daughters, who prophesied." My daughters are teaching me so much for which I'm too often only grudgingly grateful; I am embarrassed and humbled there is still more I need them to teach me. Though I've yet to hear from daughter #4 this round, I'm wondering - albeit somewhat fearfully, given the lessons from the other three this week - how God may choose to speak through her.

Whatever happened to the days when my children were simply cute and cuddly and not really aware how broken, immature, and needy their father was? And what's up with God actually using my children more in my life than me in theirs?

God, who do I obey - really obey? For the sake of my children (among others), teach me to obey you - doing what I'm asked, with the right heart attitude, and in an immediate manner - in response to your mercy and love. I am so wretched and needy. Forgive me.

Stairway of Dunham

We've got more pics to print and more old frames to repaint, but I like the results so far:

We're big black and white fans around here (not a hint of color in our entire wedding album). It's going to be fun to add pictures to the Stairway of Dunham in years to come.

The Apples Don't Fall Too Far from the Tree

Prediction

This picture is going to make me cry in twenty years:

Now interviewing for arranged marriages (include references and FBI background check).

Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Just had to share that I've finally hit the big time over at Awkward Family Photos.

It's August (and the Show Must Go On)

Here's a shot of our newly-formed Half Pint House Theatre and their production of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. As a way of tapping into the girls' dramatic tendencies (no shortage there), I had the idea to throw together this little stage at one end of our attic (which also gave me a good reason to clean it out). In addition to Goldilocks, the ladies have performed a smashing interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood, and are currently working on a script of their own (the show, after all, must always go on).

Indeed, it must in real life as well. And, as it is now August, I feel compelled to "go on with the show" here after my blogging sabbatical, writing more frequently and giving whatever friends I have left in the blogosphere something other than a monthly update of inconsequential nonsense (my goal is more consequential nonsense).

That said, here are some reports/reflections to grease the skids and get the ball rolling:

Family. In case you didn't hear, we survived our Florida trip; in fact, rumor has it that we've broken our vacation curse (until we take another one, that is). In addition to engaging with the power and beauty of the ocean at Ormond Beach, seeing all those with whom we stayed along the way was definitely a highlight of the trip (at least for us). Somehow, the 36 hours in the van were even tolerable, as the girls read, sang, fought, made up, laughed, and saw more of the southeast than they probably thought even existed (we don't allow videos or computers in the van, so they had no choice). Good times, good times.

Writing. Little has happened on the publisher front for ThirtySomewhere, but we are scheduled to hear back from WaterBrook in the next week with an official "yea" or "nay" as to whether they want to publish our second book. Unfortunately, any progress on the manuscript has run in tandem with the publishers' interest (or lack thereof - one said his editorial board felt the thirties could be summed up in a magazine article, not a book!?), so not much to report here but disappointment.

Bookstore. On average, I spent a day or two a week working in Covenant Seminary's bookstore, where I've worked part-time for the past year. It's fun to think back to when I first started a year ago and laugh - I was so clueless on the retail end of things. Though I wouldn't say I love selling stuff any more than I do now, I definitely feel more comfortable dealing with it. I'll be working roughly the same shift this fall - three afternoons a week from 4-6, with the occasional Saturday thrown in - and am glad for the work.

Seminary. After completing my MA in Theology this past May at Covenant, I only have two more education classes to take to earn my MA in Educational Ministries in May 2010. Megan is also finishing up her graduate certificate this year by taking the last four of her 30 hours), so we're hoping to walk across the stage together at graduation next year (we have 9 months to figure out childcare).

Church. We're formally being interviewed this Sunday for membership at Crossroads Prebysterian Church here in Maplewood. We've been attending Crossroads since January. One of our goals as members of Christ's Body is to be as local as possible in our involvement, and Crossroads fits the bill - it takes about 10 minutes to walk around the corner and up the street (now if we can only leave early enough on Sunday mornings so we don't have to drive because we'll be late otherwise).

Neighborhood. Speaking of Maplewood, we're still really enjoying what I call "blue-collar bohemia," and look forward to a formally planned night out with many of our neighbors this month. It's also fun living so close to "Baseball Heaven" (i.e. Busch Stadium), especially with the Cardinals newly rejuvenated and ready to make a post-season run. Go Redbirds!

Westminster. Today begins in earnest my hands-on work for the curriculum planning I did earlier in July. I have much thinking to do, many notes to condense, and plenty of multi-media to find/create. I'm teaching the same classes (New Testament Survey with freshmen, Biblical Ethics with sophomores) as the past two years, but I have very few returning students I know and a schedule I'm not all that excited about (out of seven periods, my prep periods are 2 and 3!?). Still, I'm looking forward to school.

That's about it for now. Personally, I have several things I've been thinking about this summer that I'll save for another post or two. Until then, let this serve as notice that I'm back on the blogging horse. Yee-haw.

Oh, and with regard to it being this time of year, I'll leave you with some perspective from Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, as quoted in Newsweek:

"I'm not afraid of August. It's a month."

Indeed it is, Nancy. Indeed it is.