For several months now our twenty-month-old son, Sweet Baby Ray, has had a bit of a problem with separation anxiety, especially when it comes to his mother being out of sight. He often pitches a fit that sounds as if someone is skinning the boy alive.  We get it… he loves his Mama but goodness gracious son!  Needless to say, he hasn’t liked going to the church nursery through Sunday school and the later church service.  Sometimes he figures out where we’re going on the road heading to church and begins throwing a pre-fit.

So after service this morning, my daughters and I were walking down the hall to retrieve the young man from the nursery.  As we reached the door, which was packed with other parents having their own joyful reunions with toddlers, it seemed that time slowed down for a few seconds, almost as if I was supposed to see this wonderful glimpse of life play out in great detail.  When some of the parents faded back with their children, we could see Ray playing on a colorful, padded half-circle toy the nursery came equipped with.  He saw the commotion at the door, but seemed to be having too much fun to care.  Then he caught a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye and you could almost hear him think out loud as he snapped back a second look, “HEY, there’s my SISSY!!!”  I’ve never seen the boy move so fast as he leapt from the padded toy into his sister’s waiting arms.  His smiles and joy took the place of any fun he was having in the nursery because he knew we were headed home.  No more nursery, as good as it was.  Home and his family are WAY better.  Beautiful scene.

So as I continued down the hall to head for the car, my mind and heart were flooded with thoughts and feelings about the “nursery” we’re all in right now.  We may have a fun place to play with colorful, padded, half-circles and baskets full of puzzles and toy distractions.  We may have some of the best snacks and juice drinks this “nursery” has to offer.  There may be plenty of grown-ups that love us and friends our age to play with.  We may even have the opportunity, if we so choose, to take a nap while we’re here and sleep away the troubles we anxiously worry through.  But when it comes down to it, there’s nothing like going home.  Nothing.

Someday our Big Brother will come and retrieve us when the service is over, although time won’t slow down.  Like a flash of lightning or as fast as a steel traps snaps closed, He will show up at the door of our “nursery”, scoop us up into His arms, and take us home.  Nothing will matter of the world we’re leaving behind.  Not our house or the t-bone cooking on the grill.  Not the laundry we need to finish or those dirty dishes in the sink.  Not the back nine holes on the prettiest day of the week or the final coat of wax on the mustang.  The dogs will go hungry, the bills won’t get paid, and the grass will grow tall.  WE ARE GOING HOME!!!   We’ll hold onto Him tightly and smile like we’ve never smiled before.  He’ll take us away to see our Father and it will finally be time to go home.

I’m homesick… again.

“Leadership is not just what happens when you’re there, it’s what happens when you’re not there.”       – Ken Blanchard, from The Leadership Pill

I was fortunate enough to have a friend for a long time, a fellow deacon, named Ken.  Ken was blessed with a huge family and he served them all as an example Christian patriarch should.  Ken’s family is very reflective of the kind of man he was… playful, stern, accepting, loving, and loyal.  His influence reaches not only through the lives of his children, a hope that every parent has, but also through his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  With a family as large as Ken had (7 kids, at least 18 grandchildren, and I loose count of his great-grandchildren), you would think that he wouldn’t have room or time for those outside of his family but that simply wasn’t the case.  He often accepted others as family (such is the case with me) and had an uncountable amount of good friends.  He was a good ol’ country boy, a hero firefighter and ambulance EMT, a member of the armed services, and a devout fisherman.  You couldn’t help but love Ken.

Well over twenty years ago, Ken and his family (not just his immediate family but also his brothers, nieces, nephews, their children and grandchildren, etc.) established an annual tradition of camping at Bennett Springs State park in Missouri over the Father’s Day weekend.  All family members and those friends who wanted to join would drag their RVs, campers, or tents to “Bennett”, grab their trout tags for the next morning, get up at the crack of dawn, and fish to their daily limit.  Most would be done fishing before noon, get together and share stories of conquest or those bites on the line that “got away”, and come together in the evening to enjoy the day’s catch.  All of the men would deep fry the fish and potatoes and the women would put together the sides and desserts and there would be a grand feast of one hundred people or more.  You really couldn’t ask for a better way to celebrate fathers and spend time with your family and friends in nature’s beauty.

Unfortunately my good friend Ken, who was waist deep into his eighties, passed away this past year.  He was very tough and had battled all kinds of cancer, including bone cancer, and heart disease for many years.  As is the case with all of us some day, regardless of how tough we are, Ken lost the fight and decided that eternity in Heaven was better.  It was crushing in a way to attend his funeral and see his family without their captain.  Many thoughts flood your mind as an outsider… “What’s going to happen now?  Are the kids and his wife going to be okay?  Who’s going to take up the mantle and lead the family?  Are they going to hold together?”

As the previously mentioned bullet point from Mr. Blanchard suggests, a great leader’s teachings and personality still influences those around them, even when he’s not there.  This past weekend, Ken’s family still got together at Bennett on Father’s Day… without their father.  His wife drove his old pick-up truck an hour and forty-five minutes to the camp site.  One of his many grand-daughters wore his pair of overalls and hat for our celebration on Saturday, his family were all still standing in a stream catching trout at 6:30 in the morning, and there were more people than I’ve ever seen eating said trout in the evening at the larger feast of fish.  All of the men ate last after having deep-fried buckets and buckets of fish fillets.  Beyond all of those important traditions, the ones most important… accepting others into the fold, joking around and having fun, loving one another, appreciating the blessings that have been poured into your life and family is everything… those still stood the test of their leader not being there to share in them.  A challenge to you and I may be this… what are we doing today that will establish tomorrow for our children, and their children, and their children?  Are we being that leader in our family that will be talked about for many years and influencing the future of our family in a positive way?  Are you encouraging behaviors and establishing practices that bring love, family loyalty, hard-work, forgiveness and hope to the persons who should be the most sacred to you while you live your life?

I have to believe Ken was smiling this Father’s Day as he fished in Heaven with the Master Fisherman.  You know they have to have at least a 12 fish limit per day up there! 

Other greats points of interest for the weekend:

• I got to take my 20 month-old son fishing for the first time!  Ray thinks that fishing rods are swords so he kept hitting our rods with his little Iron Man rod yelling “Die, die!”  (His middle sister taught him that with Nerf swords)  Needless to say, within 15 minutes, he and I were sitting on the shore enjoying a snack of Cheez-Its and watching the others fish.
• My oldest daughter Anna caught her limit of 4, being the only one in our family to catch anything.
• Both of my daughters nearly drown in the swimming pool.  Abby was having difficulty in the deep-end of the pool and her sister, who isn’t a very strong swimmer herself, jumped in and was nearly drown by her panicked little sister.  Anna managed to grab a rope in the pool and pull them both to safety.  I told Abby that if she ever doubted that her sister loves her, this action speaks louder than any words.  (John 15:13)  Thank you Jesus for protecting them both!!!!  (Welling up!)  Anna, you are my hero.
• I had a wonderful walk with Abby along the road next to the stream on our last day.  I really enjoy talking with Abby when we share time like that.  She has so many questions about life.

Happy Father’s Day all!

Dawn and the kids purchased a new weed-eater for my Father’s Day gift this weekend.  I’ve never owned one before and I was so excited to get that puppy fired up and cutting into the jungle I call my backyard.  It has the ability to accept many accessories and the one they got came with an edger attachment also.  How cool!

While the weed-eater satisfied an inner “guy” type of desire, it wasn’t the best present I received over the holiday.  Sure… breakfast in bed was great, the touching greeting cards (one of which was one of the coolest, sound-producing Star Wars cards I’ve ever experienced) made me well up with tears, but then I got the phone call that would change my Sunday.  I’ve recently had a wonderful widow added to the list of ladies I attend to as a deacon at our church.  She lives in an assisted care complex and a week ago I gave her a ride to church for the first time.  I told her last week after returning her home that if she ever needed a ride, to give me a call on a Saturday evening and I would be glad to pick her up.  No call last night, so Dawn and I made plans to leave town and meet up with her family after church.  That is, until the phone rang this morning.  My new widow asked if I could pick her up and take her to church.  I told her, “Sure, no problem!”  Dawn asked what was going on, I told her that plans were changing and I had an opportunity to answer Jesus calling on me.  Satan tried to temp me with disappointment, but I wouldn’t let him have it.

So we’re riding to church and the widow says, “Oh, it’s Father’s Day today, isn’t it?” and I said “Yep!”  She told me her Father has been gone for 51 years and she still misses him.  I asked her in an attempt to get to know her better, “So what is the one thing you remember most about your Dad?” At this point, my Heavenly Father gave me a Father’s Day present that overshadowed the weed-eater by a long shot.

She said that her father was a great provider and the strength of their family, but he wasn’t an overly emotional man and rarely said, “I love you” to his children.  Her story about the way he died proved that he really knew how to love better than most of us though.  She said that in 1961, her Dad and a buddy went to the Meramec river near Eureka to fish and train their dogs.  She said they heard some screaming upstream and ran to find out if someone needed help.  Five children, ranging from age 10 to as low as 6, were having difficulties swimming and would have drown if her Dad had not been there.  She said that all they could see was the children’s hair.  He drown that day, saving a little boy and giving his life for another.

(At this point I’m hoping she’s not looking at me in the car because I’ve got tears streaming down my face.)

She said that it was very difficult after her father died.  She said her mother sort of “shut down” after the drowning, and she had to pick up the matriarch role for awhile because she was the oldest girl in the family.  The Carnegie Hero Fund Commission, an organization with a two-fold mission to recognize those who had given their lives to rescue others and provide assistance to their families left behind, wanted to award her family a Carnegie Medal and award on a TV program.  My widow said that she turned it down because she felt that her father wouldn’t want people making a fuss, but the Commission did help her family financially growing up.  ($500 per month for as long as her mother didn’t remarry)  I looked it up on the Carnegie Hero Fund website and sure enough, he was among the awardees:

She said losing her father was a traumatic event in her life that left her changed for many years, until one night that she had a dream when she was about 20 years old.  She said in the dream she could see her father walking up the road toward her house.  She said he was old and worn-looking, but she could tell he was happy.  She said after that dream she knew he was alright and she was able to move on with her life.

I was completely speechless the rest of the way to church.  What can you say to that?  I thought about her story the rest of that Father’s Day and reflected on how I measured to that.  I think about whether I’m doing enough for my children and pointing them in the direction that God would like them to travel.  I think about my responsibility to train them up right and teach them how to love others.  If put in a similar situation as my widow’s father, how would I react?  Although a quiet man and not very affectionate during his time with his children, he showed his children the greatest example of love you can possibly show.  She said his memorial stone says something similar to John 15:13, “There is no greater love than to lay down your life for someone else.”

I like my weed-eater, but I like God’s gift of that story better.  I’m glad I was obedient that day to be blessed by the widow’s story.  Thank you Martha.

Nesting to the nth degree has been going on for about two months.  (Although you wouldn’t necessarily know by looking at the house.)  Dawn’s mostly finished sorting all of the shower gifts and getting them put away.  She’ll soon shift to writing “Thank You” cards because she really can’t do much in the way of housework in her condition.  We’ve purchased a Pack-N-Play for little bits.  We still need to get a car seat/stroller combo, and will probably do that today.  The video camera has a new tape and a charged battery.  The digital camera is ready to go.  We all have overnight bags packed to go to the hospital, complete with snacks, books, and entertainment items.  Everyone’s numbers are programmed into three different cell phones for that “we’re headed to the hospital” phone call… now all we need are some contractions.

Dawn’s last doctor’s appointment earlier in the week wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.  This past month she has been suffering with aches and pains she didn’t have with the other two pregnancies.  Bad hip pain and going to the bathroom 28 times (on average) per night hasn’t helped her get a lot of rest, which means I have a lot of sleepless nights also.  She often tells me, “Your son keeps kicking me!” like I can really do anything about it.   To sum up her feelings, I could put it this way… “GET THIS KID OUT OF ME NOW!!!!“  The doctor told her that the baby wasn’t showing any signs of “opening the door” yet, which I think disappointed her.  She’s a strong woman, but I think she’s really starting to reach her limit.  She showed me a website last night with ten different ways to induce labor culminating with some recipe for labor-inducing cookies of all things.  I’m fixing to make her two dozen of those puppies!

Now there are still a few things we’re not prepared for, but will be eventually.  Some of the casualties of a surprise child in your 40′s include:

• We don’t have a room for him.  It cracks me up when friends ask, “So is the nursery ready?”  Or “What color is the nursery?”  The poor child will have to stay with Mom and Dad in their room for probably the first six months or so.  We’re thinking we can build a room in the attic.  Right now though, he’s going to have to go the same route as another Baby we all know and love who didn’t have a “room at the inn.”  Thankfully he can stay in a baby bed, rather than a manger.
• Both of our vehicles are four-seaters… not five.  I think we can squeeze a car seat between the girls in the back seat, but it’s going to be comfy for awhile.  I don’t think they’ll mind though.  All it will take is Sweet Baby Ray flashing them a smile and they’ll forget about being squished more than normal.  We’ll eventually get a minivan or something like that, but for the moment… we’ll be a VERY close family. 

I think those are minor, missing items… right?  Regardless, we’re about as ready as these Hoff’s can get.  We can’t wait!

I’m checking out some trampolines on ebay while writing… I’m not sure trampolines made it on the ten labor-inducing methods from that website, but I bet it wouldn’t hurt to try.  Between bounces I can hand her a cookie.  (Eyebrows going up and down!) 

I’ve found that I tend to keep trust buckets for most people I know, on some internal shelf in my mind.  My mind can quickly take inventory of a person’s trust bucket each time I interact with them.  If their bucket is full, it’s easy to see and I don’t dwell on it… but if their trust bucket is not full enough where I can’t see any “trust”, then man do I examine why!  “ I sure do love that person, but I have to limit how I show it because they really blew it in the past with me, ” I’ll say in my head.  Rarely do I give them the benefit of the doubt if their trust bucket is running low.  Right or wrong, that’s the silliness that goes on in my thoughts.  But that’s with people… do I do that with God?

I have the honor and pleasure of leading a Bible study where I work.  We’ve been getting together over lunch every other Thursday for what we affectionately refer to as “Thursday School”.  (Instead of Sunday school… get it?)  It’s good to commune with fellow brothers and sisters in Christ at work, share the Word with one another, and lift each other up in prayer.  That time is very fulfilling for me personally, and I hope it is for everyone else who attends.

Over the summer months, attendance at Thursday school began to dwindle from around 12 people to sometimes less than 5.  Now you and I both know that people are busy sometimes during their lunch period running errands, continuing to do work, or are away on vacation or various business trips.  It’s actually a small miracle we get as many folks as we get in the study because every one of us have extremely busy lives, especially around the work environment.  I know this in my mind… I know better.  But one week, the devil was whispering in my ear when I sat alone in the room where we normally meet… by myself.  “I guess this is it Kenny, “  he said.  “This must finally be the week they all finally decided that you’re not that great of a leader and they’re ready to give up on you.”  I had enough time to eat my lunch and even read over the study questions again.  “Where is everyone?” I asked myself.  “What did I do wrong?”  I started to examine the last year or more of Bible studies on Thursday looking for issues that could have finally broke the camel’s back with the folks who normally came to our class time.  And then one of my sisters in Christ came into the room.

“Where is everyone Ken?” she said.  Relieved to see another soul, I told her I wasn’t sure.  We both sat for a few minutes more reading and occasionally smiling at one another.  Of course the devil was still having his field day, and I was letting him.  “Yep Ken, time to hang this one up.” the devil said.  “They all know what a terrible person you are inside as does your Heavenly Father and you’re probably being punished for it!”  After a good handful of minutes I asked my sister in Christ if we should just pray before we leave and save the lesson for another time.  She agreed, so I asked her to pray.  We bowed our heads, mine partially from defeat, and she began to pray.

I think she got two words out before another sister in Christ from our group popped her head in the door.  “There you are!” she said.  “We were wondering where you were!” 

“We?” I questioned. 

“Yeah, ” she said, “we’re not supposed to meet in this room today because someone else had booked it.”  Normally we meet in that room, but occasionally someone else books it and we have to go somewhere else.  Several months ago I relinguished the scheduling of our study times to another sister in the group because organization isn’t one of my strong suits.  I simply didn’t read her meeting request thoroughly, which would have told me we were meeting elsewhere.  “There’s a whole roomful of people downstairs wondering where you both are.”

We gathered up our things and in the elevator ride down I felt ashamed.  Even though God’s always been faithful to me, I let Satan convince me that I was worth nothing and that God was punishing me somehow.  I could only see things from my own vantage point and I forgot that God sees the whole picture and He’s constantly moving me in a certain direction for my own good because He loves me.  Because I chose to trust my eyes rather than having trust that He is working in the background to make things what I need, the devil had his way with my mind.  That old liar made me forget the past I have with God and traded it with doubt.  If I review the trust buckets of everyone I know, why didn’t I look at the devil’s?  His is an old rusty bucket with bullet holes in it.  It never has trust in it because, well… he’s the devil.  He hates me and even more… he hates the God I serve.  He’s done nothing but try to destroy me since the day I was born, and yet I took my eyes off of the One who’s trust bucket is a million times bigger than anyone else’s and is constantly spilling over and believed the devil’s lies.  Why is that?  Why would I do that?  Why did the Israelites do it in the desert after leaving the bondage of Egypt?  “We want to go back!” they told Moses.  “We’re hungry and thirsty here in this desert and we would rather go back into bondage than suffer this way!”  They didn’t trust that God would see them through, even though they had witnessed many miracles of God and had been delivered from slavery.  I have been blessed by God so many times in my life, even when I don’t deserve it, and yet I didn’t trust Him.  Why?

I think I, as well as the Israelites, stopped looking at God and started looking at ourselves and our own circumstances.  When you do that, Satan can have his way with you.  You’re distracted and he knows it and he’ll use that to his advantage.  Especially when you’re on track to do something spectacular for the Lord!  We all have to understand that God’s trust bucket should always be full, huge and overflowing.  We all have to trust that He loves us and are letting things happen to us to shape us, not to purposely hurt us.  Look back at your history.  He’s never let anything happen to you that wasn’t for your own good.  Even the really awful stuff is intended to make you something that will bring Him glory.

So when we finally made it into the right room, it was full of smiling brothers and sisters in Christ.  We even had two visitors!  We had a great bible study and discussion with one another and I feel the Holy Spirit had his way in the room.  So one moment I struggled in my own despair… the next I was blessed beyond measure.  Had I trusted that God was working in the background and would provide that blessing, I would have been fine no matter what the circumstances.  But no… I listened to the liar.  Thank the Lord He doesn’t feel the same way about me.  He often gives me trust and love when I don’t deserve them at all.  He fills up my trust bucket with His Son’s blood so that it overflows and spills out.  Even if it was empty because of my carelessness, he fills it up again anyway.  Great example, right?

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and take everyone’s trust bucket down from the shelf in my mind and fill them up again.  Why?  Don’t they deserve the trust level they have in their bucket?  Maybe.  But God’s got so much spilling over from his right now, I got a little extra to spare.  I gotta put it somewhere, right?

With a calm and serious voice, I went over getting comfortable in the driver’s seat, adjusting and using all the mirrors, the gear shifter on an automatic car, and then last but not least… the brake pedal and the gas.  I’m sure there was a touch of fear welling up inside her because this is something she had never done herself… only watched others do to this point.  Taking a leap of faith that being behind the wheel of a running car about to make it move was going to be okay, she listened closely to my calm instruction and trusted my voice.  She knew that good ol’ Dad was very experienced and has seen a lot in his day while driving, and that she could trust his instruction.

Now you and I know that verbally teaching someone how to do something, and them experiencing it on their own are completely different learning experiences.  I could tell her about the brake and gas pedals being sensitive, but I wanted her to feel it.  She would be a better driver to get this one lesson down pat.  I had her put her foot on the brake, ease the gear shift into reverse, and slowly take her foot off the brake.  No gas, just let the car move on it’s own.  Without instruction on how to use the brake, I told her to stop the car.  She of course pressed the brake too hard and we abruptly jerked to a halt, whip-lashed by the teenager.  She looked over at me, and I said “Did you feel how sensitive it is?”  She nodded.  “When you use either the brake or the gas, you have to press them gently… brake eaassyyyy!”  She smiled and we continued our lesson.  She listened to each gentle instruction I gave her and made it through the lesson just fine.  I think she also found out that she needed me and driving is a bigger responsibility that even she thought.  She needs an experienced hand to help her through this.  Make her a driver worthy of a license.

*So the following Wednesday, our pastor was teaching a lesson on us either grieving the Holy Spirit, or quenching the Holy Spirit.  He gave an example about a car dealership offering you a brand new car for $1.  Of course we all know there would have to be some sort of catch with a deal like that, so he explained that the only thing wrong with the car was that the brake and gas pedals were both messed up.  When you pressed either one, it would either:

• jump forward too quickly
• delay for a while before working
• or not doing anything at all when pressed.

How dangerous would that be driving your family around in a car with such important flaws!  He went on to say that we often are like that deficient car.  Sometimes the Holy Spirit directs us to stop what we’re doing… and we just keep going or stop in our own time. (Grieving the Holy Spirit)  Sometimes the Holy Spirit tells us to go… and we take our sweet time moving forward or we refuse to move at all.  (Quenching the Holy Spirit)  Needless to say, the Holy Spirit can get just as frustrated as we would driving in a situation like that.  The Bible warns:

• “do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.”  – Ephesians 4:30
• “do not quench the Spirit”  – 1 Thessalonians 5:19

Jesus gave us great examples about stopping when you should, and going when you should.  Why would He wait two days to go see Lazarus, who eventually was in a tomb dead for four days?  Lazarus was His friend Mary’s brother, and He loved Lazarus, Mary and their sister Martha dearly.  He knew He could heal him of whatever was wrong… but He waited.  He waited because he knew it was the right thing to do.  He knew that waiting, even though I’m sure He wanted to swoop in and heal His friend, would bring glory to God and glory to the Son of God.  (John 11)  There was also the time when Simon and his friends had been out fishing all night without any luck.  They were whipped and had pulled to shore defeated.  Jesus told them, “Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.“  Hesitantly, Simon listened to the calm words of Jesus, let down the nets, and they caught so many fish that their nets were breaking and they needed help bringing the fish to shore.  So many fish in fact, that the boats were sinking.  (Luke 5)

I started to think about my daughter’s driving lesson, and how we should listen to the calm, wise, and loving voice of the Holy Spirit.  We should learn to trust that the Spirit knows what it’s talking about, has our best interests at heart and that the lessons we learn, even though we don’t feel we deserve to go through them, will make us a better “driver”.  We should learn that things will always go better when we learn to stop when the Holy Spirit tells us to stop, and go when the Holy Spirit tells us to go.  When that little, calm whisper speaks to us… we should surrender and do what it tells us to do.  We should remember it’s lessons and learn from them.

I’ve been driving for over 24 years and I feel each day something new could be learned.  The same holds true for our lives.  None of us have everything down pat, so listen to the more experienced Spirit, trust what it tells you to do, and do it.  And get your oil changed on a regular basis!  (Sorry, the Dad in me came out there!)

* Wednesday teaching session by Brother Roger Johnson – First Baptist Church, Villa Ridge, MO.

At age fourteen, young people think that they are ready to take on the world.  I can appreciate that, as I was once at that glorious age myself.  When rules are set down that there will be no physical touching at all for a fourteen year-old, they are going to be challenged.  That leaves parents at a cross-road… I can choose to be the “bad guy” standing my ground to protect my beloved offspring from things they don’t come close to comprehending or I can follow the advice of work friends who think I’m being too strict.  They tell me, “Kids are going to find a way to do it anyway, so you might as well educate them so they’ll make good decisions and chill out a little.”  I chose the hard path… not to be an authoritarian or an old “stick-in-the-mud”, but because I understand the fact that adolescents are not capable, for the most part, of making a good decision on their own.  Heck, I know some people over thirty years of age that aren’t capable of making a good decision!  There are some children who are exceptions, but even if they do have a good head on their shoulders, a good parent will be watching over their shoulder to make sure.  Why do I feel that they can’t make a good decision?  Simple really… they are running on limited knowledge and experience.  I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard an adult say, “Man, I wish I knew then what I know now!”  Am I saying that you should make all of your children’s decisions for them?  Nope.  Just with anything else in life, if you want to get good at something you must practice.  Have you kids practice, with your guidance, making great, educated decisions on a daily basis.  The key word in that last sentence is “guidance”.  Just as you wouldn’t hand the car keys to your fourteen year old and say “Figure it out for yourself,” you also shouldn’t set them out into the world expecting them to “figure out” relationships and interaction with the opposite sex.  Guide them.  It’s your job.  Sometimes that guidance requires you to keep your children from an environment where temptations could encourage them to make a poor decision.  And you won’t be popular, trust me!  I’ve always told my girls that “I won’t always be your best friend, but I will ALWAYS be your Daddy!”

Okay, so to the meat of the story…

I’ve set down a series of rules with the fourteen year-old about interactions with a boy.  Sometimes I even think they’re a little stern, but I’m going to stick to them.  No physical touch of any kind.  No holding  hands, no kissing, no hugging, no nothing.  If they behave themselves and make good decisions (under my guidance of course), then when she turns fifteen, I’ll think about letting them hold hands.

So one glorious Sunday morning I’m sitting in the balcony at church behind my daughter and her boyfriend.  The pastor had just delivered a wonderful, inspiring sermon just teeming with words straight from the Holy Spirit.  I was feeling great about life, my family, my church family and my relationship with God.  All was well… at least until the invitation time at the end of service.

Now don’t get me wrong here, I love my pastor.  I think he’s a great under-shepherd and he’s leading his congregation in the right direction.  But every once in awhile, all of us mess things up and we don’t even realize it.  My pastor, in his infinite wisdom, decides to deliver an illustration of how love can spread quickly if we allow it to.  One of his strengths in delivering a message is the use of a visual aid to REALLY make a point.  He’s a master at it.  So his illustration rules went like this:

• On the count of three, everyone in the sanctuary is supposed to “freeze like a statue” except for him.  You’re not allowed to move at all.
• He’s going to choose someone in the congregation to hug and tell them that he loves them.  By the act of hugging them, the chosen statue can “un-freeze”.
• This newly thawed congregation member can then choose someone themselves to “un-freeze”.

You kind of see where this is going, don’t you?  I’m there in the balcony, frozen, waiting for a little unfreezing love to come my way.  Problem is… my eyes were not frozen.  My eyes see this wave of thawing love and hugs cascading across the balcony like a tidal wave, but it’s not reaching me quicker than it was reaching my daughter’s boyfriend.  I see it reach him, and suddenly time started to slow down.  He thaws from a hug given by his neighbor.  I think, “WHERE IS MY HUG PEOPLE!!!  SOMEONE UN-FREEZE ME QUICKLY!!!”  I see him turn to my little girl.  My eyes are bouncing back-and-forth between them and the wave of thaw coming at me.  “HURRY UP PEOPLE!!!  UNFREEZE ME!!!”  He reaches his arms around her, and she thaws there in his arms.  The lady next to me hugs me and says “I love you my brother!” 

After the invitation was over and the pastor’s point was illustrated, well I might add, I asked my daughter and her boyfriend “You know you both just blew it.  You’ve set yourselves back a year!”  They both looked at me, smiling, and said, “Why?  Brother Roger told us to hug.”  Touché children, touché.

I’m trying to figure out a way to ground my pastor.  Any suggestions?