Even Hot Dogs and Creeping Pinkies Deserve It

“You could put a cinder block in the middle of the room with those boys and they could tear it plumb apart” is what my Pa (grandfather) used to say about me and my 21 month older brother, Mike.  We would fight about anything.  Mike could say that the kool-aid was red and just to be opposite I would say it was blue.  I would tell him to turn right and he would turn left just to spite me.  We would tell each other not to cross the imaginary line drawn between us in the car on our family vacation and we would indefinitely put our pinky finger across it.  I would craft a beautiful, tasty sandwich and just as I was putting the parts away in the fridge Mike would stick his thumb right through it and scream “Doy?”  We even got into a chasing match around the kitchen while making lunch and Mike picked up my mustard covered hot dog and threw it 10 feet across the room just to slap it against my early developed, 13 year old hairy chest.  The one thing that makes all of these memories stick out to me now is that we always made up.  We may have hated each other for the time being or truly despised the other at other times but we always offered forgiveness and started clean for the next bout.  We love and enjoy each other now more than ever. 

Last night we were packing up to leave a friends house when my 6 year old, Jayden, came to me with a pouty- yet- mean face and I asked her what was going on.  She said that she and her friend were fighting.  I told her that I understood but we needed to be cordial and tell her friend “Thank you” for letting us come play.  She glared at me and shook her head…”I don’t wanna”.  I told her again that I understood her feelings but she needed to “be the bigger girl and tell her thank you”.  She turned reluctantly and did as I asked but stomping away.  I called out to her “do it with a good attitude or it wont mean anything”.  She walked softer and disappeared into the bedroom of her little friend.  I heard some whispering but no crying or yelps from blows being taken.  I waited expectantly for her to emerge with crossed arms and a pouting face but I was quite surprised.  She came out hand in hand with her friend, both gleaming with joy that their problems were behind them.  I asked if everything was okay and they giggled and hugged to show me their new found friendship. 

I learn from watching my girls and through memories of my brothers that forgiving and being forgiven is paramount in our relationships.  Sometimes it isn’t easy and sometimes we fight it and forgive even though we really don’t want to.  But most of the time we come out of it even happier than we were before the problem even arose.  Especially when the laughter erupts when a hot dog splatters on your chest.

Still In Love

           Today, I find myself thinking a lot about my wife.  I think she is on my mind today because I miss her.  Life has been full lately.  We do see each other each day but quality time spent together has been at a minimum.  That seems to be a common theme in most “married-with-children” lives.  We spend a lot of time taking kids to soccer practice/games, attending meetings for church/work/school, and any gamut of other things.  We do eat dinner together every night as a family which I value.  She has been quite stressed lately due to work issues, lack of sleep from the never-ending bark of the two pups next door, and not to mention foster care classes and preparation to bring more children into our home.  But, she always seems to make it all work out.  She always puts the pieces together like they were meant to be.

 I have a vague memory of when I first met her at MidAmerica Nazarene University.  She was playing “powder-puff football” on the team my roommate coached.  She would stand around in the huddle across from me just as uninterested as I was to be there.  She did it for her friends.  Little did either of us know that we would end up together someday.  The next time I saw her was on an open dorms night when I asked her and some others where a particular girl’s room was so that I could leave a note and rose in their room to ask them on a date.  Christina was the one who personally escorted me to the room and went as far as to let me in the room to leave the rose.  I remember going back to my room that night and asking Adam (my roommate) what he knew or thought of Christina.  His answer was pretty generic “I think she’s cool, ask her out you big dummy”.  With much anxiety I followed his suggestion, however I felt quite childish in my asking her friends to set the table for me.  When I finally called her and asked her out the answer she gave was a strong and resounding “maybe?”.  What?  All that anxiety and all I get is a “maybe”.  She is the type that forces you to work to get to know her.  She knows your commitment level before you do sometimes.

We finally went out on our first (double) date with my roommate and his way-better half.  We went to Houston’s Restaurant and went ice skating at an indoor ice chateau followed by a movie at my parent’s home.  The date went as expected…minimal conversation, anxiety, chasing one another while skating and finally some entertainment where we could just relax and um…not talk.  On the way home we got stopped at a railroad track and while stopped I turned to her and put the pressure on.  I told her my intentions were to date her and become romantically involved.  Most specifically she would tell you my words were “I’m not looking to be friends, I have enough friends”.  I think it shocked her but at the same time she understood my words.  I think it is where she fell hard for me.  She knew I was direct.  She knew she would never struggle to know my stance on things.  I think it is what she liked most about me.  Now, after dating for 2 ½ years and being married for almost 13 it may be the thing she likes the least. 

The love that I started for her way back then is still alive for her today.  I am still anxious to see her when I get home each day.  Greeted by a hug, I sit down and nod off as she explains the smell of poop and potpourri (from the in home day care) or what she heard on “The View” today.  The nap is never intentional and I care for her and her thoughts deeply.  She is my favorite person in the world.  She has produced 2 fantastic children, has followed her calls from God in life, and has loved me at some very unloving times.  She is a great mom and a great wife and I am still in love.

Am I A Good Parent?

Have you ever wondered what it is like to consider yourself a “good parent”?  Most of us wander our days in a flustered state of crazy, unending chaos starting with waking up on time to get the kids dressed and clean enough to put on a façade to the rest of the world as we juggle school, church, school programs and fundraisers, soccer, art, doctors appointments, and more soccer.  We sit down at the end of the day frustrated that we haven’t caught up with life, that we don’t spend enough time with our kids, or can’t handle our own kids behaviors much less someone else’s kids, and that life “just isn’t fun anymore”. 

Do you ever wonder how you are doing?  Or do you just sit back and assume you are no different than any other crazy, running around like a chicken with their head cutoff parent.  Maybe you aren’t even a parent but worry what it will look like someday.  Well, as most of you know my wife and I are going thru some Adoptive/Foster Care classes and it has really put some things into perspective for me.  I am a better parent than I thought I was.  As I sit and relationship build (talk) with friends around me or share what is going on in my life I tend to share struggles or ideas of how I/others could improve our lives with our kids.  What has come at me lately has been people telling me “You are a good parent” or “that is a great idea” or even most recently a friend came to me and said she brags to her mother about the great ideas that I have and how much she respects my way of parenting.  It means so much to me that others see that in me.  It is encouraging to hear that from others.  Sometimes it is so hard to believe. 

Now I wonder, if others see me as a good parent then what is it that keeps me from seeing it?  Am I good parent because I am firm, fair and consistent?  Is it because I am doing my best to bring up my girls to be believers in themselves and to trust in God during the good and bad?  Is it because my wife and I share all things in honesty with our children (sometimes even the gruesome details) and prepare them for the world that seems as though it is out to get them?  Maybe because I show them love beyond their beauty and intellect.  Possibly people see a passion for “rightness” in my heart.  I do know this…regardless of all of these things that people tell me I do so right I think the answer is back to the beginning of this post.  Is it because I am constantly wondering if I am a good parent?   Because I can juggle life at its hairiest?  Because I care about how well I parent?  Most of all I think it’s because I know I am not perfect.  I recognize that I “can’t” sometimes.  Or that “it’s hard”.  There is a certain humility that we, as parents, go though.  We need each other. We need encouraging words when things seem to “suck”.  We need ideas and support. 

Don’t just settle for being the parent you think everyone else is.  Be the parent that strives to be better.  Don’t give up when things get hard.  Don’t run away and seek “fun”.  Love, be firm, and face the facts.  None of us are perfect.

Entitled much?

Just yesterday at work (at a local Juvenile Detention Center), I was assigned to release a 16 year old girl to her mother for a medical pass.  Her mother thought enough of her to bring some clothing of her own so that she wouldn't have to wear our JDC clothing in public.  What the mother didn't know was the tongue lashing she would receive about being late and bringing "the wrong clothes" instead of a hug and a thanks.  This young lady went off!  Telling her mom "you never know what to do" and "you are always late".  This girl even told her mom "Get your act together, do you even know where we are going?"  The mom, like many I have witnessed over my 12 years as a correction officer, just sat there and let her child spout off.  Mom was saying "I'm sorry, sweetie" and "I should do better".  Are you kidding me?  If I were the mom I would have walked out the door and left my daughter crying in the Detention Center.  This girl didn't know what hit her when I stepped between her and her mother.  I stood up to the little priss and said "Don't talk to you mom like that.  One of the reasons you are in here is because you don't follow the rules".  "Don't blame your mom for your inadequacies to get your own act together."  I informed her very...um, politely...that if she didn't tone it down she would go nowhere with her mother.  These girls these days have no respect for their parents.  They feel entitled to do and act the way they want.  All because at one point a parent stopped parenting.  Respect was lost and not demanded.  It is not easy to parent, nor is it terribly fun.  But it is a responsibility that should not be taken lightly.  Stand up to your kids.  Take charge.  Don't let your children be entitled or you may find yourself on the wrong end of this story.  Not that you should be surprised but the girl was caught off guard by my showing of authority and as I did the mom stood up behind me and carried out what she didn't have the guts to do before.  She took over the authority and put the little one in her place.  As they walked out the door for her pass the girl looked back at me with confusion wondering... "What just happened here?"  I can tell you.  Her world just flipped and her entitlement just slipped right from under her feet.  I just had one parting thought, "you're welcome".

On the HOT seat

About 2 years ago my wife, Christina, and I started feeling a strong pull at our hearts to adopt/ or foster a child right here in Kansas City.  We recognize the need for children/families all around the world but right here in our own back yard we can help a child in need.  We accepted this call in our lives around November last year and have gone on what seems like a long track since then to just start our Foster Care Licensing classes just this last Thursday (March 7th) even though we have been fighting it for the last couple of months.  However, God keeps placing it back in our mind that we are to follow His plan rather than what we think is right.  "Are you kidding me, God?  You really want me to do THAT?  I have a hard enough time with my own kids much less anyone elses?" are thought that have crossed my mind.  "Well the least I could do is go to these classes, right?"  At this point I guess I will listen and follow.  As my wife and I walked in to our first class, we were the last to arrive even though we were 5 min early.  Not only were we instantly nervous and sweating but the room was SCORCHING hot and the only two seats were to sit right in front of one of the the two space heaters that were incinerating this room.  If you know me I was not happy.  I run warm all the time, maybe because I weigh like 310 lbs but still.  I had my big polar bear claws fanning away until it finally got the attention of one of the teachers.  She probably thought I was trying to flag her down.  She asked the class if everyone was warm and I answered with a resounding and desperate "YES"! "Thank you, God, for the small bit of relief that they could offer."  We got through the class pretty quickly (it felt) after that.  The class itself went well, nothing we didn't already expect.  There seems to be a good bit of homework but I guess that is to be expected as well.  Little did I know that when we returned home my dad had turned our thermostat up 9 whole degrees while were gone and my parents were baby sitting.  I walked into another scorcher.  At least this was one that I could fix on my own and thankfully it was only about 30 degrees outside and I could cool my home quickly.  I guess the moral of this story is...
You may be uncomfortable on the HOT seat but if you follow His plan things will get better.  God has a way to remind us that He is in control if we just let him drive. 

Memories of my Mom for her 60th Birthday

Oh I have a million memories of mom.  I could talk about the million times she stabbed me in the head with the 4 prongs on a fork, or the many times she locked the doors on a summer day to make sure us boys played outside rather than lay around inside all day and as we went to the door to use the restroom she just said “use the wing wall”.  I could talk about the time we were given a choice to copy a page out of the dictionary or get 3 swats when we all three were in trouble or the time I wrote a dirty poem at school and was forced to apologize face to face with the teacher that found it.  I could talk about the times we were scared of a thunderstorm and we would go pray and stare at the picture of Jesus in our home.  Or the many hymns we heard played as mom waited patiently/irritated for dad to come home for dinner late.  I could talk about the 2 weeks that mom stood by my side when I was in the hospital after my appendix burst or all the 100 swim meets she sat in the hot sun to wait for my 2 or 3 races of fame each summer day.  I could talk about the times that mom would sit me down on the loveseat and ask question after question to find out where I was in my life and what was going on in my head or the time I lied to my Home Ec. Teacher about not having enough money to buy materials for sewing class and how mom made me tell the teacher the truth (I must not have learned that one the first time).  And lastly, I could talk about the time I came home from being with friends and when I laid on the floor to watch a movie with my parents a SKOAL can rolled in an 18 foot circle across the floor and I snuck upstairs (with dad) hoping mom would not call us back down.  But all of those things are not what we are supposed to be talking about here. 

What I should be saying is all the things I have learned from my mommy in the last 35 years.  Like how to have manners at the dinner table (the reason for the prongs in the head), or how to stay active all day and to be productive and think outside the box (the reason for the wing wall).  I have learned how to take my lumps and move on (the reason for the swats) or how to face my problems and talk them out no matter how much it hurts (from the dirty poem apology).  I have learned that when I am scared of life, or love, or thunderstorms to look to Jesus for the answers and to wait patiently for the Lord for he will hear my cries (like she did waiting for my dad).  I learned that when people need you to be present (like she did after my appendectomy) and share in victories and losses as she did at my swim meets.  I learned to talk about my feelings even when it is tough and to push back when my head tells me to close down (thankfully I have a wife that demands to know where my head is too).  I have learned to tell the truth no matter how bad the consequence (like I said it took many tries).  And lastly I learned don’t carry your SKOAL can in your sweatshirt front pocket because it might roll out in front of your parents.  No seriously, I learned that even when the truth is out on the floor it is better to face it than to run away.  Thanks again mom for all the lessons made from the memories we have had together.  I love you.

Mark