Family

Weeds in the Shadows

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In my efforts to look up these days, something caught my eye today as I walked by this church steeple. Do you see it?

Looks like they’ve been growing for a while. Probably hasn’t caught too many people’s eyes…yet. It is on the other side from the road view. And the roofline of the building behind them also keeps them hidden. Do you see them?

My first question was a pretty obvious one: How in the world are those weeds growing there? Something like 30 feet off the ground, on a dirtless structure. Weird.

My next question was more reflective: How many steeples have weeds growing in their shadow that aren’t being addressed? In this case, I’m thinking about all kinds of things.

  • Accountability of leadership
  • Protection for members
  • Factions forming over nonspiritual concerns
  • Workaholic pastors
  • Financial mismanagement
  • Emotional imbalances

Of course, this thought could be asked about all social units, corporations, and communities.

Weeds aren’t hard to identify or address. This requires two basic routines: observant eyes and willing hands.

Observant eyes are aware that weeds grow and aren’t surprised when they see them. Without willing hands to address the weeds, the weeds keep growing, they go unaddressed. Willing hands define those who know that the weeds must be addressed and aren’t afraid to do so, the sooner the better.

Which are you, the observant eyes or the willing hands?

What’s being done about the weeds in the shadows in your family, in your city, in your business, in your church, in your own heart?

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A Different Kind of Rich

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Last night I finished reading Rich In Heaven by Chris Mackey.

This morning I got an example of what Mackey wrote about told to me by a stranger. There’s something about snowbirds (a northerner who moves to a warmer southern state in the winter) and conversation. They don’t shy from it.

I’m on vacation in Orange Beach, Alabama. If I turn my head just so, I see the Gulf of Mexico right now. This morning I decided to walk the beach first thing. After being stopped by one snowbird to view passing porpoises about 100 yards out in the water, I was stopped by another couple to chat. I really don’t know what started the conversation. But 10 minutes later, the husband had told me all I needed to know about his family.

I didn’t ask his name. Since he’s from Gardendale (which probably doesn’t really classify him as a snowbird…it’s in the same state), I’ll call him Dale.

Dale is retiring April 1st from Alabama Power where he’s worked for 46 years. One of his younger brothers retired today. His wife said Dale’s a little miffed by that. His other younger brother took over the family farm. His wife said he’ll figure out that wasn’t a good move.

Dale doesn’t care for the beach; he’d rather be on a bushwhacker. That reminds him of growing up on the farm with his parents. They’re both gone, but he’s very proud of who they were. When his dad passed, people told Dale stories of how he’d done something personally impactful for them that they’d never forget. That’s who he was.

From Dale’s own experience, he remembers when his Dad would announce in church that the next weekend his corn crop would be ready for people to come get whatever they wanted. They stood in lines for that free corn. And the same with the family chickens. They always had 2,000-3,000 chickens (Dale said that wasn’t a lot. I’ve never had one, so that sounded ginormous to me.). Dale’s dad would announce a Sunday prior that fryers would be available the next weekend. That meant Dale and his brothers would have to skin them to be ready to give away.

Dale said he never got a satisfactory answer from his dad why he didn’t ask folks to pay for that corn or those fryers. His dad only said, “One day you’ll understand.” When Dale said they were never rich or anything, I replied, “Your dad was a different kind of rich.” He replied, “And I understand now.”

Chatting with my vacationing neighbors reminded me of a few things Mackey wrote:

We ought to think about “us and ours” instead of “me and mines.”

The way to more blessing is giving what you have away.

God is displeased, not by what we choose to give Him, but by what we refuse to give Him.

The two types of people in this world are not the haves and the have nots but the “use wells” and the “do nothings.”

The rich in heaven are those who are not okay with God working out His plan apart from them.

Nothing promotes inaction more than comfort.

It is the place where you refuse to grant God access that marks the extent of heaven’s reign in your life.

I met some rich folks this morning. I’m richer.

An Open Letter to 22E Dad on Southwest Flight 1477

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I had decided for this flight I wanted an aisle seat.  Seat 22D by you and your wife was the first one I came to, so I took it.  Immediately I wondered if I’d made a bad choice. 

You even gave me a “Are you sure” look.  I failed to consider what may transpire during the 2hr 45m flight with your child you were holding.  But I decided to embrace it and build a connection. 

“First flight?”

“Yeah.  He’s three months old.”

“Congratulations!  First child?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a big deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

That 18-word interchange said a lot.  The smile on your face and the light in your eyes said more.  But you had much more to say without words the rest of the flight.

To start the flight, “Junior” (I never asked you his name) was asleep.  The sharp tone of the captain’s voice changed that.  It wasn’t long before he started letting you know it was diaper time.  Your wife wondered which restroom had a changing table.  Not only did you get the answer from the attendant-you did the deed yourself.

While you and Junior were gone, your wife got his mid-flight bottle ready, which he seemed to expect the second you returned.  Without hesitation, you took the bottle and met his expectation.  Then you burped him.  Then you rocked him in various ways until he checked back in to dreamland.

Back in dreamland

Dad, I don’t fly a lot-two or three times a year.  And I can’t say I’ve ever sat beside a couple with a baby.  So the sample size is small.  But I’m going to go out on a limb and say, “You’re not normal.”  I would say, “Think about it,” but the proof says you already did.

You intentionally sat in the middle seat, which put you on bathroom duty and gave your wife as much privacy as possible.  You did these things all without a spirit of having lost a bet or it was “your turn.”

Dad, I’d like to think I’m wrong, but I’m guessing the reason this is noteworthy to me is I don’t believe the average dad thinks ahead like that. And even if they do, I’m also going to guess the joy you had isn’t the emotion the average dad would have knowing diaper and bottle duty is part of the flight plan.

This is what your actions said to me. More importantly to be considered is what your actions said to your wife and your son. Dad, I congratulate you even more for how you are starting your fathering and husbandry journey. Sure, not every plane ride will go this well. There will plenty husband/father rides that you’ll be tempted to be average, maybe even below average. On those days, pause to look back on this one. Remember the honor you gave, the love you expressed, and the joy you received in return. My guess is you have an above average dad. For everyone’s sake, but especially your family’s generations to come after “Junior,” keep up this great start and may other dads follow your lead.

P.S. Thank you for making 22D an above average choice.

6 Signs of a Great Dad

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Yesterday, I heard a dad make two comments in response to things said to him about his children.

The first was about his preschool-age son. Apparently he wasn’t feeling well. When asked about what may have caused the sickness, the dad basically said, “You never know with him.” He didn’t say this with disgust; more like, “He’s his own man.”

The second was about his elementary-age daughter. In talking about how they chose to sit where they were seated, she was given credit for the choice. Dad’s response: “She’s a natural leader.” He didn’t say this with pride; more like, “I can only imagine what’s in store for her.”

I don’t know this dad that well. We’re at the acquaintance stage. But these two comments tell me some things about him.

  • He loves his kids.
  • He respects his kid’s personhood.
  • He’s parenting with the future in mind.
  • He’s not a control freak.
  • He’s pursuing contentment.
  • He’s got a pretty good grasp on his identity.

Photo by Juliane Liebermann on Unsplash

Love Is All Around

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I have nine nieces and nephews through the marriages of my three sisters. As of last Saturday, five of them are married. Niece Emily married Connor-the first opportunity I’ve had to be present as an uncle.

The word blossom was used often by the minister and others who voiced words of blessing and prayers over Emily and Connor. Surveying our family, those there and those elsewhere, I like to think the blossoming of love in our family has already happened. What continues to happen is the pollination of love.

Their parent’s love blossomed over 25 years ago. The result of that love is more than a fuller flower. It is a field of flowers. It is love multiplying. Some of those flowers may be still little buds waiting to blossom into marriage. Yet they get to experience the love from all the other flowers in the family field.

The view from this bachelor’s flower in the field is unlike the rest of the family’s. Like any other unmarried person, I’m tempted to believe the whispered lie that I haven’t found love yet. To that I say, lift up your eyes. There’s love all around. The widowed great grandmother and the yet-to-be-married have love.

In their maids of honor speech, Emily’s two sisters joked the three have become two. They also said they welcomed Connor as a brother. They haven’t lost love; they’ve gained love. They aren’t without love; they have received more love.

Family Grace

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Today I was privileged to attend the celebration of life for a friend’s husband who passed last year. Due to COVID concerns, the family put off holding a gathering until now. I had only met her husband once that I recall, so I was attending purely to support her. I have found that when I attend such gatherings without much history with the deceased I actually walk away with more to think about. No exception today.

The top thing that struck me was an admittance from the youngest son. In his sharing about his dad, he spoke transparently stating that they hadn’t always had the greatest relationship. He said he didn’t want to go on about that. Instead he said this:

As an adult I’ve come to realize that parents are people to. My dad was a person. We all mess up.

He then went on to tell terrific stories of how he relied on his dad in many ways and will miss his being there to give advice and fix his mistakes. He gave a terrific image of how he remembered feeling like his dad would be behind him watching him do something and sensing that his dad wished he could wrapped his arms around his sides in order to fix what he wasn’t doing right. He said he imagines that his dad is still doing that.

This husband/father/friend was loved. And it appears he was loved because he accepted everyone’s humanity including his own. Could that be the answer to a tight family? Each one receives and shares grace out of their acceptance of their humanity?

As I listened to this son laugh and cry talking about his dad, this passage came to mind:

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children-with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.

Psalm 103:13-18

May families remember that they are dust.

May families receive and share grace.

May families bask in the everlasting to everlasting love of the Lord.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Every Circle Grace

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Grace is an interesting topic. In my years in the church, the focus of grace has mostly been on the grace we receive from God. Rightly so. And during this Lenten season, it deserves top of mind.

Devoted followers of Jesus’ teachings believe we are to give what we receive. Everything we receive from God we are to pass on. Love. Mercy. Forgiveness. Faithfulness. And even Grace.

My observation is we tend to gift grace in various degrees. Some people give themselves plenty of grace…much more than they give to others. Some people disproportionately give their family members grace in comparison to others-some more, some less. One amazing observation that stands out more and more is the grace people in the church give to themselves compared to the grace they give people outside the church. Again, it goes both ways. Some people give better grace to their fellow churchgoers while others give better grace to those outside the church.

For better or worse, I’m the latter. For the record, neither is correct. Grace is to be shared with all people equally.

Looking at Jesus’ relationship circles, we observe supernatural grace giving. He gave Peter as much grace as he gave the woman at the well. He shared his grace equally with Nicodemus and Judas. His mother and Pilate both received appropriate grace. What an example he left us.

I most often fail at giving grace to those in my closest relationship circles. That awareness provides growth opportunity so whether in the next hour I engage a stranger in the store, a friend on the phone, or a colleague in the office, my grace is for every circle.

Jesus practiced every circle grace. His resurrection power says, “So can I.”

Light

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Light uncovers

the begging to be

seen, corrected, confessed, forgiven, celebrated, heard, protected, cleansed.

Light pulls

out the

disfigured, undiscovered, forgotten, lonely, hurting, rotting, hidden, stolen.

Light comes

rhythmically to every

morning, home, friend, neighbor, child, field, highway, mountain.

Light resurrects

what darkness

broke, destroyed, severed, tore, distorted, invaded, belied, abandoned.

Light wins

in every

heart, mind, city, neighborhood, country, family, room, soul.

Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash

Mile 4

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Pat Schneider’s writing is inspiring. Needed attempt at brain pressure release.

Unsuspected I approach

They meander

Pacing and pecking, flapping and feeding, united and unique

Unsurprised I pause

They pass

busy and bothered, noticed and noted, caught and captured

Unhesitant I acknowledge

They came

sent and selected, happy and harmonious, celebratory and committed

Reflecting on seeing the flock of ibis on my run this morning, the day after my birthday, and my friend who joked I work like them. “The family flew in.”

Looking for Book #1?

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Book #1 for 2021 done. And it was a good choice to kick it off.

It’s time to let God heal you. It’s time to let God restore you. It’s time to let God do a mighty work.

Franklin takes the first half of the book to define and describe love.

Don’t speak to the fool in others; speak to the king in them.

Chapter four, “Stop Keeping Score and Start Losing Count,” by title alone moves you in the right direction. He had this to say about Jesus’ work on forgiving:

Before he could leave this earth, Jesus had to forgive those who were torturing him, those who were mocking him, those who were blaspheming him. This was important because God’s hands will not touch spirits that do not release forgiveness. Wherever you release forgiveness, you release the power of the Spirit of God.

For several chapters, Franklin focuses on the family. Why? Perhaps because it’s the place where we learn about love and also where we are most prone to be hurt by it.

You cannot be so spiritual that you neglect natural things. And you cannot be so natural that you neglect the spiritual things. God’s will is somewhere between Martha’s kitchen and Mary’s altar.

The final three chapters address one’s love relationship with God. He argues that the enemy’s goal is to create distrust. And what happens often is instead he pushes us to pray more, to run to God, and to increase our faith-particularly when we love like we’ve never been hurt.

Franklin wrote a Keeper.