Fatherhood, Life, And A Piece Of Toast

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“Dad, do you want me to butter your toast?”

It was no great act of service on my part. My dad was lying in a hospital bed recovering from pneumonia. I knew it wasn’t easy for him, with some vision problems, to locate all the utensils and condiments scattered around his breakfast tray.

“Yeah, that’d be good, son.”

As I stood over him buttering the toast, I had one of those moments. Maybe it was deep gratitude for his loving and steady presence throughout my life. And maybe it was partly a realization of how fast life passes us by.

It would have been almost 35 years ago, but it really does seem like only yesterday. When my brother and me were home from college in the summers, we lived with Dad. And we got up and went to work with him five days a week. Of course there were no smartphones then, but I didn’t have an alarm clock either.

My dad was my alarm clock. I slept in our basement. Each morning, the light switch at the top of the stairs would flick lights on and off a couple of times and I’d hear a ring on his finger banging hard against the wall. This didn’t just mean it was time to get up. It meant breakfast was ready.

What was for breakfast? Usually cereal. Basic stuff, no marshmallows. Sugar Smacks, Frosted Flakes, or Rice Krispies. And always……toast. Not from the toaster. Dad toast. Slices of bread spread out over a cookie sheet with chunks of stick margarine scattered randomly on top and broiled on the top oven rack for a couple of minutes.

Looking back at those days, I don’t think it was ever stated what the penalty would have been for giving in to my teen instinct to just roll over and go back to sleep instead of coming up the stairs for breakfast. I just knew it was time to get up because he said so.

Dad has never excelled in the area of giving clear instructions. But he lives his life in a way that makes it clear what is expected of his family and employees: Show up, treat others well, try your best, finish your work, and tell the truth.

What he has communicated well has been his love for his family. From those early days of reaching up to hug his neck and feel his rough stubble against the soft skin of the face of my childhood to those college days where I could now look him in the eye, I’m grateful for just how many days ended with, “I love you son”………”I love you dad”.

My oldest son finished college last week and will start working alongside me in the coming days. I may remind him of these details, but I hope I’ve lived my life in a way that, like my own dad, shows them to be true: Trust God, show up, treat others well, try your best, finish your work, and tell the truth………and things will work out fine.

I can’t remember the last time I fixed my son breakfast. And I don’t think I’ve evere had to drag him out of bed for work. But I do remember the last time we ended our day with “I love you son”………”I love you dad”. And I know that’s a big deal.

Things are different now with my dad and me when we part ways. His health is not good. Instead of two men leaning in for a hug, I’m now leaning down to kiss the top of my dad’s head as he sits in his recliner. “I love you dad”……..”I love you son”.

And I walk away overwhelmed. Gratitude. I’m thankful that my dad is my dad. Renewed purpose. I want my wife and children to always have that same adoration for me that his wife and children have for him. Not because it’s adoration I seek. But because it’s the fruit of a man leading his family in a way that’s pleasing to God. The impact of a godly father carries on for generations.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” Matthew 6:19-21

Me, My Dad, Matt Dillon, And Tough Goodbyes

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Women just don’t dig Gunsmoke. A show that ran for 20 years and 600+ episodes, and I can’t even get my wife to sit through one episode with me. “Karrick I don’t see why you watch this.”jThat’s been a bit of a puzzle to me. But I think I’m beginning to understand. It’s a guy thing that boils down the beauty of Marshal Dillon’s character.

I attended a funeral this week. And for me, funerals always bring up reflections and reminders of what the heck we’re supposed to be doing with our time on this earth. My 82 year-old dad lost a very dear longtime friend. A friend of mine since childhood lost a wonderful father. And as I sat in a church listening to tearful tributes to this loving, Godly man and the ways his life impacted theirs, my thoughts somehow circled around to the Matt Dillon’s character on Gunsmoke.

Dillon was a man’s man. He could lick anybody in a fistfight, and nobody was faster on the draw of their pistol. But he was a peacemaker for sure. Chaos quickly ensued in his absence. Calm returned when he was in town. Evil was quickly removed when he was present (usually by a non-bloody single shot to the chest). Dillon could be counted on to do the right thing at all times, regardless of personal pain or risk. He was a protector of justice and of people, always putting others above himself. He somehow always had a way of making people and situations around him better.

I find it strange now, the timing of an episode that I watched the night before the funeral. Miss Kitty, frustrated with Matt’s noncommittal attitude about their very undefined romantic relationship, began to see another man during Matt’s brief absence from Dodge. By the time Matt returned, Kitty’s suitor had turned out to be a violent psycho, and Matt had to shoot him dead, just in time to save the lives of Kitty and Sam the bartender.

A remorseful and grateful Kitty tried to find words to apologize to Matt. But he cut her off with just a couple of words and a reassuring smile that said, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything”, before walking away to take care of business. Things were always better when Matt was around. Sam knew it. Kitty knew it.

Sam turned and told Kitty, “He’s an awful good man to have around.” And after a perfect pause, Kitty replied, “He’s the best” before slowly walking up the stairs of the Longbranch Saloon. She knew that she was fortunate to have this man in her life. She knew the town of Dodge was fortunate to have him in their lives.

For boys that grew up watching Gunsmoke, we wanted to be like Marshal Dillon.  But more than that, I think we wanted our dads to be like Marshal Dillon. A mighty man and a protector, always doing the right thing, and just good to their very core.

It sounds so simple. But in the real world, most kids eventually grow old enough and wise enough to see through the faults of their fathers. The weak spots and weaknesses of fathers (or total absences) can no longer be hidden behind the wishful thinking of children.

My friend Barry didn’t come right out and say it at his father Dave’s funeral. But I’m certain that he thinks his dad is “the best”. I feel the same way about my dad. When I was a kid, I thought my dad could fix anything. Now that I’m older, I realize that he simply has the the will and the ability to make everything better. With a father’s touch.  To have a dad who really does turn out to be a hero, to never be forced to accept that he isn’t the man you thought he was or wanted him to be…………..oh what a blessing that is.

This world has a twisted view of what makes a person successful. To an outsider, a man’s active life in business and politics, and an accumulation of possessions and financial stability may indicate a degree of “success”.  But God has different ideas of success. An accurate measure of this type of success can be found in the lives that we impact while we’re here.

The people who spoke of our friend Dave at his service painted a clear and beautiful picture of a life of impact. Loving God and loving others. A man of humility, compassion, and generosity. An encourager. A man of moral courage. Someone who treated others fairly. A great family man…..father, husband, grandfather. A peacemaker whose presence just made things better.

This was the kind of man that Dave was. This is the kind of man my dad is. And this is the kind of man I’m still trying to be or become.

The pastor at Dave’s service said “they don’t make them like that anymore”. He went on to say that he hopes that God calls more men to this type of life. But I think He’s already made that call. Who will answer it?

 

Hey Sis, I Think I’ll Hang On To These

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I sat in my office recently talking to a couple of twenty-something guys about life insurance.  Neither of them were dads, but I noticed one was staring at the hand-painted artwork of my daughter Maddie, that rests proudly at the front of my desk.  Insurance talk came to a brief halt, “That’s about the neatest thing I’ve ever seen”.

I quickly answered that it was my most prized possession, a Father’s Day gift.  It’s taken me a few days to understand why I hold it so dear.  Other than the obvious reasons, I thinks it’s this; it shows that for our shared experiences, her perception matches mine.  The spirit of her memories is perfectly in line with mine in her artwork.

In a wild life of hectic schedules, we found quiet times together.  She always knew where her dad was.  She always had someone to lean on.

I don’t think I’m a hoarder, but I do tend to intercept a lot of thing that are bound for the garbage or the yard sale.  Maybe it’s just a matter of awareness of the value of looking ahead because I know the treasure that lies in looking back.  Possessions that have no monetary value become treasures for those who can look back together at shared experiences of earlier times.  Often a single object does the trick.

It’s become a Thanksgiving tradition for my brother, sister, and I to rummage through our dad’s basement and attic for worthless things that bring back priceless memories.  A Happy Days board game.  A slew of ticket stubs from concerts or sporting events.  A little league baseball hat and a 40 year-old baseball glove.  Treasures that remind me how thankful I am for my family and for childhood memories.

In a home with four children, sometimes the purges are great.  It seems that you can fill a 32-gallon garbage bag with Happy Meal toys at least twice a year.  Sometimes items go away that parents wish they’d kept…….or someday they will wish they kept them.  There was a coat that both of our girls had worn as toddlers that I spent a few years thinking had gotten away from us.  I had a silent celebration when I discovered the Pooh coat buried in the bottom of a storage tub.  “Get your Pooh coat on sis”.  It has meaning for me now.  Someday it may have meaning for the girls as well.  Maybe they’ll dig it out together some Thanksgiving after dinner…….as adults……after they’re married.  And they’ll give thanks for the childhood they spent together.  And I’ll give thanks once again for the time I spent being the daddy of two little girls.

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They’re not so little any more.  Macy is a college graduate, living 4 hours away, and getting married in September.  Maddie just completed her first year of college, but is thankfully home to spend the summer with us (as much as a college student spends the summer with their parents).  The start date of her summer job was pushed back for a week, so she decided to have a yard sale last week.  Mostly things that belonged to her and Macy.  I showed up to help her set things up early on a Saturday morning.  As I was digging through the tubs and boxes, placing items strategically so they could be seen, I hesitated when I pulled out a pair of well-worn soccer shoes with a $.50 price tag on them.

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I silently walked to my truck and placed them in the front seat.  Maddie looked up from her work, “You decide to keep those?”

Maddie probably didn’t know why. They were her sister’s shoe’s.  I didn’t know myself. Macy had put together a pretty successful soccer career.  A player on our school’s first regional championship team to go along with some notable individual accomplishments. Two years of soccer in college.  But I honestly couldn’t even begin to remember what season she wore them in.  And she may not remember herself.

But I remember well the night she picked them out.

And as the days count down to her wedding day, I wonder if she remembers too.  For a dad that really knew little about soccer (other than learning just enough to be a youth soccer coach) and little about soccer shoes, I placed myself firmly in the middle of the annual soccer shoe buying process.  Our girls generally wore their shoes out by playing in both the fall and spring.  Sometimes I had to insist that they replace worn out shoes.

“Daddy, I think these will be alright”.

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So the tradition became that dad combed the internet for shoes that were acceptable for his girls to play in each season.  Time after time, I’d call one of them to the arm of my recliner, “What do you think about these, sis?”.  As they got older, they came to my recliner, iPad in hand, “Dad, what do you think about these?”.  And the dad who hated to overspend on fancy things or pay too much for shoes or clothes that would soon be outgrown always made an exception when it came to soccer shoes.  I don’t think the girls really grasped just how little I understood the game of soccer.  But I think they did come to understand that their dad thought it was important for his girls to play in quality shoes.

“Are you sure those are the ones you want, sis?”.

“Yeah daddy, I’m sure”.

So I’ll store the shoes away in a tub with other treasures.  Other memories.  Someday they’ll come back out.  Maybe on a Thanksgiving afternoon, Macy will dig them out with her brothers and sister.  And maybe she’ll tell her own kids that she was a pretty fair soccer player in her day.  And it may not be worth mentioning to her kids, but I have a feeling that she, and her sister too, will have fond memories of picking out soccer shoes with their dad.

I’m glad I saved the shoes.  But they’re just shoes.  The real treasure lies in shared memories.  And sometimes saving an item here and there helps to keep precious memories alive.

And somewhere in my house is a Thomas the Tank engine wooden roundhouse that would fetch about $50 on eBay.  I was thinking about selling it.  But both of our boys spent hours playing with it.  I guess I’ll hang on to that too.

 

 

 

Last Place In the Last Race

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I found myself in an unfamiliar place at the end of what turned out to be Maddie’s last high school cross country regional meet. A strange series of events led us to stick around to watch the last finisher in the boys race.  I’d never even witnessed the last finisher in a girls race.

Maddie, a senior now, has been running in varsity races since she was a 6th grader.  At many of those meets, she has found herself in the shadow of a high-finishing big sister.  A running joke developed between Maddie and me over the years that her success would be measured in whether she puked or not after she finished.

“If you don’t puke, you can find a ride home with somebody else.”

Where you finish isn’t as important as how hard you compete and push yourself.  When I was tied up with basketball coaching duties and unable to watch our girls run, a text update from my wife might read, “Maddie isn’t sure what place she finished, but she wants you to know that she puked after the race.”

I wasn’t always there to see every race.  But I know that Maddie always finished well, never near the rear of the pack.  And her mother and I always wanted to get to her as soon as possible after she finished because she truly did push herself to her limit in every race (even when she didn’t puke).  I realized today I didn’t have a clue what it was like for those last finishers.  I’d never stuck around to watch them cross the finish line.

This being Maddie’s last meet, there was a somber mood when she was done running.  We talked, hugged a lot, and maybe even shed some tears.  Her mother reluctantly left to try to catch big sister’s final college soccer game of the season (3 hours away).

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Maddie and two of her biggest fans (her two brother) stuck around with me to watch East Carter’s boys run.  We drifted toward the finish line to cheer for our boys team as they finished.

There was a crowd of approximately 100 people lining both sides of the homestretch, cheering wildly as the top finishers came in.  Once approximately half the runners finished, it was pretty much determined who would qualify for the state meet. The crowd shrunk quickly.

We cheered the last of the East Carter boys as they finished.  I stuck around a moment longer in a reflective mood, thinking of all the years our girls had been running, and knowing this was the last trip.  Looking up, I saw only two runners in the distance remaining on the course.  At this point I noticed that the crowd of more than 100 onlookers had dwindled to only about 6 people besides our family.

And that’s when I witnessed the coolest event of the day.  A runner from Ashland Blazer’s girls team came running back from the finish line, toward the homestretch where the handful of fans were standing.  And she was doing her best to generate excitement and support for a teammate who was still on the course.

“Come on guys, we have to go cheer for David!”

But I didn’t notice anyone following her.  What I did notice was an Ashland runner way off in the distance, far behind the next-to-last place runner.  I turned to my three kids, “we’re gonna cheer for these last two finishers.”

A middle-aged man across the course from me, who may have been walking away stopped in his tracks and asked the girl, “what’s the boy’s name?”

The theme spread quickly among those of us who remained:

Spread out and cheer for David.

Eventually the last two runners passed.

“Good job buddy.”

“Hang in there.”

“Good job David”

“Almost there, finish strong.”

Those last two runners had a nice cheering section as they finished.  They might have finished to silence if not for the actions of the young lady from Asland Blazer.  A great teammate.

The athletes that finish consistently in the front and middle of the pack…….maybe they have the advantages of higher levels of talent, self-motivation, and support/encouragement from parents..

For the athlete that finishes in the rear of the pack, there is the danger of finishing alone and discouraged.  The danger of giving up.

Today, perhaps two runners finished last because that’s exactly where their training and experience placed them.  But maybe, simply by the actions of this young lady preventing them from finishing in silence…….they will be motivated to continue on next season instead of giving up.  And maybe their training and determination will reach a new level.

For the young lady from Ashland, well done!  Thankful that our family was part of your act of encouragement.

I Never Thought It Would End THIS Way

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For anyone who has ever coached youth sports of any kind, from pee-wee to middle school, and even high school sports in some cases………I have a deep question that has been floating in my mind in recent days. Just give me minute to circle around to it.

My youngest daughter wrapped up her high school soccer career tonight.  The days leading up to it flooded me with memories of all her games past, both far and near.  Thoughts of different leagues, cities, coaches, teammates, hotel rooms, victory, defeat.  Reflections of how she changed over the years as a player, a competitor, and a person.  Wondering how and why things have played out exactly as they have.  Thinking about influences both good and bad that could have or would have made things better or worse if they’d been different.

And I started thinking about the kids that I have coached as my kids have grown up, from youth soccer to travel soccer, Upward basketball to middle school basketball.  And I just can’t help wondering……

If all coaches could see into the future, to that very day when a kid puts away the cleats or the hi-tops for the last time and walks away from a game………would they choose to coach individual kids differently than they presently do?

Every kid walks away from their chosen sport someday…….then what?

Effective youth coaching is psychiatry and it is parenting.  Each player is unique, and they have specific needs that team sports can bring them.

Many coaches fail to fill those needs because they falsely assume they are training the next state champs.  They fail to see each child beyond that day when the sports equipment goes in the yard sale or the closet.

Shouldn’t the journey of sports teach these things and more to prepare kids for life beyond sports?

  1.  Standard of excellence
  2.  Work ethic
  3.  To believe in themselves
  4.  To trust others
  5.  The value of encouragement
  6.  To know they aren’t the center of the universe
  7.  To know that success does not come overnight (or in one practice)
  8.  To lose with dignity
  9.  To accept temporary failures without blaming others, and to realize these failures aren’t permanent
  10.  To be pushed to their physical limit, time and time again
  11.  To love and to be loved
  12.  To sacrifice for others
  13.  To respect authority and rules
  14.  Teamwork/unselfishness
  15.  To never give up

These things still matter when the cheering stops.

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The cheering stopped for Maddie tonight.  Her team lost in the regional semi-finals.  In a game where she and her teammates truly “left it on the field”, the score was tied at the end of 80 minutes of regulation.  Two 5-minute overtimes later, the score was still tied.  Penalty kicks would now decide the match.

Maddie stood over the ball, ready to attempt her shot with her team facing a nearly hopeless 3-1 deficit.

If she missed this shot, the game was over.  The season was over.

Sitting on my knees beside my wife, I simply mumbled, “Maddie needs to be to one to take this shot.”

Not because it could be the game winner………because it would be the shot that would seal the loss if she missed.

I don’t know what kind of reaction or look Kristy gave me, but I went on to say, “Maddie needs to be the one to take this shot, because I know she can handle missing the shot to end the game.  She can handle it.  That’s my daughter!”

And my voice cracked at the enormity of what I was saying in a trailing voice……..”that is OUR daughter”.

She missed.  Game over.  Season over.  High school career over for her and her senior teammates.

Maddie played her heart out.  And I was so proud of her.  But when those words came out of my mouth, “that’s our daughter” it hit me so clearly.  I was not proud of her effort or her performance.

I was proud of who she has become.

She met her mother and me after the game with head held high.  That’s our daughter.

Do your best.  Have fun.  Train and play to win.  In the end it’s just a game.  The end came tonight.  I’m thankful for all those who have prepared her in the right ways to go beyond this “end”.

If you’re coaching your 1st game or your 1000th, take an occasional peek toward the end.  Winning is a by-product of doing all things the right way.  Some lessons can’t be cast aside for the sake of early wins or just because you ARE winning games.

And while your players are dreaming of making that dramatic game-winning shot, you better spend some time preparing their toughness and character……for missing it.

Missing What Matters While We Do What Seems Urgent

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“Oh, take your time, don’t live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass”  -Lynyrd Skynyrd, “Simple Man”

There’s no time like the present to be fully present in the lives of those we love.

I saw a post on Facebook recently, an article link about “what men really think about.”  After reading it, I realized that most of the normal “man thoughts” didn’t really describe me.  My mind was consumed by one thing, logistics.  I think my wife could possibly have an overload of logistical thoughts as well.

There is a silent danger in busy lifestyles to have our present thoughts consumed by thoughts of “what’s next”.  Who needs to be where at what time?  How will I get everything done?  How will I deal with ____ problem tomorrow?  How will I fix problems at work?  How will I carve out future time with my family?  How will we pay for college (for 4)?  In what areas do my kids need guidance or redirection?

You get the picture.  The mind is distracted from the present.  Compound this with the tendency to have over-filled schedules, running quickly from place to place, event to event, and you eventually risk living a life that lacks depth.  Healthy interactions are replaced by an urgency to maintain schedules and show up on time.

Eventually, we miss too much of the present because we are distracted by an unhealthy urgency to maintain what’s next.

I’m not suggesting that we live safe, idle lives out of fear of overload.  We should always be willing to consider doing more than we consider ourselves capable of doing, for the purpose of developing faith in God, and a reliance on His strength and not our own.

But just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should do it.  Recognize when life becomes too much and too fast.  Our level of distraction when interacting with loved ones is a good measure of this.

My son Kal has a great love for his three dogs.  Of our four children, he is the first to actually follow through on the promise of, “if I can have a puppy, I will take care of it.”

When I got out of bed for church on Sunday morning, Kal was nowhere to be found in the house.  He was already outside playing with his dogs.  By the time he came in and got dressed for church and got his breakfast, we were nearing the point of running late for church.  Being  late isn’t a big deal to me, but since I had a class to teach, I at least wanted to not be late late.

His mother and sister had already left, but I realized his big brother was still in bed.  But just as I started to go roust big brother from his slumber, Kal launched excitedly into a tale of something his puppy Zelda had done earlier in the morning.  I wasn’t the least bit interested in hearing this story.  And we really needed to get moving to get to church on time.

But there was a gentle nudge inside me as I looked down and saw the excitement on his face as he talked…….just as I was ready to tell him to tell me later because “we gotta go”.

This is Important to him.  Today and forever…….to have his dad’s full attention and to place value on his words.

“Look him in the eyes and listen to every word he says, like it is the most important thing you will hear all day”.  

This is the thought that crashed into my brain.  So I listened.  And I’m sure that those two minutes that I almost lost because I was RUSHING to be somewhere on time, represented the most valuable two minutes of my whole day.

Simply being present in the present.  Getting something right that I’ve gotten wrong hundreds of times before.

If it’s important enough for  our kids to talk to us about (or ask questions about), then it’s important enough for parents to give full attention to and provide answers.

Distracted parenting means we aren’t watching or listening like we should.  Value the words of your children.  Be attentive enough to see opportunities for praise and encouragement (and correction if necessary).

When parents stop listening, kids stop talking.  When kids stop talking, parents lose a big part of their ability to have a continued positive impact in the lives of their growing children.

Plan ahead but don’t let your thoughts stay in the future.  Live a full life, but don’t let your schedules dictate your life.  And perhaps most importantly, it may be time to make changes in your life when your level of distraction and overload causes you to miss the little moments in the days of your children…………that become collectively huge moments when you miss them.

Doritos and Smoke On the Water

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I write this for everyone who has ever owned a guitar but never learned to play, for we are the ones that ensure the presence of cheap guitars on EBay.

A trip down memory lane of the songs we never learned how to play.

My son Kal got a guitar this week.  An EBay find, $45 for a Fender Squier Mini.

He has no previous guitar experience.  I only hope he surpasses his dad on his musical journey.

Approximately one minute into his journey, I was flooded with memories of my own failed guitar life in the late 80’s.

He plugged into a mini-Peavey amp, turned everything on and got ready to play his first lick.

“Wait Kal, let me find you a pick”  But I couldn’t find a pick.

Rewind to 1988.  A townhouse apartment at the University of Kentucky that I shared with my brother Scott and two friends.  I had a Martin Stinger electric guitar that always stayed propped up somewhere in plain sight.  But I couldn’t play.  Still can’t. But every rock and roller wants to pick up an ax and at least play a recognizable portion of a few key masterpieces.  Iron Man, Stairway To Heaven, Smoke On the Water.

Most guys that came into our apartment picked up that guitar and banged around on it.  Few had any actual skill.  But I could never keep up with a pick.  My friend Cass delivered the same answer time and time again when I told him there was no pick:

“You got a Dorito?

Last night, Kal looked puzzled when I told him I would get him a Dorito to play with.  I ended up cutting up a gift card in the shape of a pick so he could get started on Smoke On the Water.

In those college days, there were no YouTube videos to watch, Guitar tab websites, or guitar tab books to learn songs from. But we didn’t really care about learning songs.  We just wanted to play cool parts.  I tried to figure things out by ear, and my ear was horrible.  My brother had taken piano lessons as a young boy so he had some understanding of music and chords.  He tried to show me some things, but I was too impatient to learn.  I just wanted to shred, and I was too impatient to learn how to shred.

He is now a skilled guitarist, as is my dad.  My dad, brother, and sister once picked and sang together in church.  Afterwards, people who didn’t really mean to be insulting, asked me, “Can’t you do anything?”  And the only answer I could give was, “No, no I can’t.”

But I wasn’t without my moments in my final year of college.  My friend Marty moved in with a Yamaha 12-string guitar, and he actually knew how to correctly play major riffs from awesome songs.  Dust In the Wind, Sweet Home Alabama, Crazy Train, Don’t Fear the Reaper, and Stairway To Heaven.  Of course he freely shared this knowledge with me, and I was well on my way to a few more years of not being able to play.

Upon returning home from college and getting married,  guitar mags were now widespread, as were tab books, so I acquired a sizable pile.  Developed an interest in thrash metal.  And Justice For All, Hangar 18, Symphony of Destruction. But I just really couldn’t play.  Still I clung to this vision of possibly buying a really expensive guitar and hooking it up to the right amp………and the awesome sound would take my playing to another level.

Thankfully I never make that silly purchase.  Soon after, I became a father and unofficially declared my guitar career over.

I still pick up random guitars and play the opening licks from Enter Sandman.  I still laugh when people who know my dad and brother ask me  “don’t you play?”.

And I could only laugh when Kal asked me how he was going to learn how to play.

“YouTube videos son.  I sure can’t teach you anything.”

And a last-minute confession that might get me kicked out of the Metal Militia:  Marty showed me how to play Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive” on his 12-string.  And I thought it was cool.

Watching Me Watching You

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center shot

If we expect our children to become adults who work hard when nobody is watching, it’s important to take time when they are children, to notice when they are working hard and doing their best.

I spent some time Friday night watching my nine year-old son Kal participating in the Center Shot archery program at our church.  It’s his second year in the program, but he has no other archery experience.  More potential than skill.  What he knows about archery, he has learned through this program (his dad knows zilch).

I always watch him shoot at the target, but sometimes two kids are shooting at the same target.  I can’t always tell which arrows are his from a distance.  So I usually just watch his body language and facial expressions and see how closely he’s listening to instructions.  Sometimes he looks my way in the back of the church gym during the night, but usually not.

I wasn’t paying particularly close attention at one point because he had just finished shooting all of his arrows into the target.  I might have even been distracted by casual conversation with someone seated next to me.  But I looked up just in time to see Kal, looking back at me proudly.  He was pulling his arrows out of the target, but he was saving the best for last.  His hand waited on the arrow that stuck perfectly in the middle of the target.  Kal wasn’t going to pull it out until he was sure his dad had seen it (“look Dad, I did it”).  As soon as we made eye contact and I gave him a thumbs up, he pulled it out and went about his business.

I didn’t carry out any notable “dad feat”.  I just sat in a folding chair.  But it made me think of kids that hit a bullseye and turn around looking for encouragement or approval…….and nobody’s there, time after time.

maddie regional 2015

Today I watched my daughter Maddie run in her regional track meet.  The 800M run is her top event and her best chance to advance to the state meet for the first time (1st & 2nd place qualify).  She came into the meet as the 5th seed in region (I think?).  As a 16 year-old junior, Maddie and I have shared hundreds and hundreds of athletic contests, many of those with me as her coach at youth and middle school levels.

But in high school, I have tried to be a quiet presence of support, hiding in the shadows.  As a father of a teenage girl, the thought enters your mind that your daughter probably won’t even notice anymore if you’re not at her events (and does she even care if you come?).  When Maddie was on the track today, I had no reason to believe she even knew where I was.

I stood by myself at a spot just outside the track, about 75 yards beyond the finish line.  She looked strong as she passed me on the 2nd and final lap.  She moved up from 5th place to a strong 2nd place finish on the lap, finishing 5 seconds better than her season’s best time.

Silently from a distance I watched.  I wondered if she would look my way.  I delighted in the joy in her face, felt a sense of pride in her laughter and sportsmanship among the other runners.  And then she shocked me.  Maddie looked across the track at me like she knew exactly where I was the whole time……grinning at me from ear to ear giving me a big thumbs up (“I did it Dad!!!”).

I know it sounds cliche’ and cheesy but don’t underestimate the value of just being there.  Kids just want to be noticed when they do something good.  They need encouragement to continue on when they think they’re doing poorly.

As our kids grow older, will our kids choose us as parents to share their triumphs with?  Will they give up on something too soon because we weren’t there to help them believe in themselves?

Some kids feel constant pressure to be the best on the court, track, or field.  Kids that are playing to please somebody else are miserable.

But kids that look over their shoulder for support, encouragement, and direction…….and always find it, are something else entirely.

SECURE!

Whatever your kids are doing, just find a way to be there.  They don’t need you to be there to tell them how they can do it better.  They just need you to celebrate when they do it well (or give a a great effort, of course).

Are My Kids Gonna Recognize and Avoid That Big Pile of Poo?

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poop shoe

Right from wrong.  Truth.  All parents want their kids to recognize these things.  How will our children choose what is right?  How will they define what is right?  How will they become critical thinkers?

Ultimately, will they develop good decision-making skills?

It won’t happen by accident.  Blessed with young children in your home?   Embrace opportunities early on to not only teach right from wrong, but also to demonstrate truths, values, and worldviews that will form the foundation of their ability to make good decisions as they mature.

When my kids were small I made a habit of pushing their buttons of critical thinking by giving them small doses of impossibilities.  Tell them you think a puzzle piece goes somewhere it can’t possibly go.  Tell them to try the square peg in the round hole.  Watch their reactions, guide them toward finding the truth for themselves and toward correct solutions to problems without blindly accepting everything they are told.  They don’t have to “question everything” but they do need to assess the value and truth of things as they grow.  Crap or not crap?

The bad news is that the world is full of lies.  But…..the good news is that the world is full of lies.  Teaching moments come in large doses these days.  Failure is a great teacher.  TV and social media flood our lives with perfect examples of “how not to do things”.

Be ready to engage in conversations with your kids about the aftermath of bad decisions and the complete crisis of truth.  If you are a believer in the truths of the Holy Bible, then you must help your kids figure out daily how to apply these truths in a broken world……….to recognize crap when they see it, to realize when things have no value.

Parents who are silent in these areas risk seeing their kids’ system of values shaped instead by a culture that spews this garbage and more:

-Life is supposed to be fair.

-Other people owe me something.  Personal responsibility amounts to talking about what other people should be providing for me.

-There is great value in physical appearance, along with the attention and approval of others.

-If you don’t like the rules, re-shape them to meet your own desires.

-Instant gratification always outweighs patience, obedience, and hard work.  You can start at the top.

-If you fail, it must be somebody else’s fault.  Nothing wrong with blaming and excuse making.

-Lying is ok as long as you compare yourself to “worse acts”.  Results are more important than honesty and integrity.

-If you fail to embrace a decaying system of truth and morality, you must be a hater, bigot, sexist, racist.

-The president controls jobs and the economy and my prospect of work.

-It’s of utmost importance, not only to be right, but to convince others that you are right and they are wrong.

-Bruce Jenner……nah, not even opening that one up.

-It’s ok for Christians to spew venom toward and gossip about their brothers behind their backs……as long as they don’t use 4-letter words while they’re doing it.

There is an abundance of crap out there and it changes every day.  As parents, arm yourself with prayer and truth each day. Eyes and ears open.   Be intentional when your kids are young.  Set out to not only arm them with truth but instill in them a desire to choose it and live it.

Philippians 4

8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9 Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Recognize the pile of poo.  Steer away from it.  Steer others away.

Just “People Watchin” at the Final Four

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final four back row

The man in the row in front of us could have possibly been dead for all we knew.  His lifeless 30-something body didn’t show much interest in moving when those around him were yelling, shaking, and smacking him.  Slight panic ensued in section 612 of Lucas Oil Stadium.

My 15 year-old son and I made the trip to Indianapolis for this year’s NCAA Final Four hoping to see our Kentucky Wildcats finish off a perfect 40-0 season.  Those hopes were dashed with a semi-final loss to Wisconsin on Saturday night.  Unlike many UK fans, we stuck around for Monday’s final between Duke and Wisconsin.

There may not be a greater place on earth for fathers and sons to bond simply by sharing the wealth of worthless information and basketball history that lives in the streets of a Final Four.  And for this dad, it was an opportunity to squash the image that I’m completely oblivious to my surroundings (because I sort of am).

Unleashing a wealth of basketball history to an interested youngster came easy while walking on the streets of Indy.  Basketball personalities, past and present were everywhere, in real life and on the sides of buildings.

KY Seattle

Perhaps the truest (and most comical) father/son bonding came simply from people watching on the streets.  Walking around different sections of the downtown area on gameday and having conversations about different types of people and all the crazy stuff going on.

The party blocks-so full of beer drinkers getting primed for the game that you can barely walk through- but you walk your son through it all anyway……..this is how you don’t act son.

The “I wanna get on TV” sections.  ESPN, etc setup at various places with people always desperately trying to get on TV.

The ticket peddlers.  NO, JUST BECAUSE I’M WEARING A UK SHIRT, I DON’T HAVE A TICKET TO SELL SINCE WE LOST!!!

The beggars and street performers just trying to capitalize on all the extra foot traffic.

The police officers, patiently dealing with all the drunken geniuses blundering in the streets.

My son was impressed with my ability to spot random people in the crowded streets since I usually can’t find my way back to where we park our car without his help.

“There’s the guys that sat by us at the semi-finals.”

“There’s the guy your uncle sold his tickets to at IHOP.”

“There’s the guys that sat across from us at Cracker Barrel this morning.”

“That was Heshimu Evans.” (played on 1998 UK championship team).

Dad……you, like notice people, don’t you?

Yes.

Back in section 612.  Top level of Lucas Oil Stadium.  Only 2 rows separate us from the very top.

final four court2

During the first half, a commotion to my left draws my attention.  My son, Karrick Ryne and all others to his left have quickly risen to their feet as a lady in front of them, in a panic, is trying in vain to return her adult son to consciousness.  She shakes, smacks, calls his name.  His head falls straight back.  He looks to be in serious trouble.

“Somebody needs to go get someone!”

I hear an older lady say from the row behind me.

Three rows of people are on their feet now, most of them doing the exact thing I was doing…….watching, and waiting to see if someone else was going to do something.

The guy still wasn’t moving.

But Karrick Ryne was.  He left his spot in the center of the row without speaking and pushed past me, flew out of our row, and went down 19 rows, two at a time, disappearing into the concourse looking for assistance.

Shortly after KR went out of sight, the man showed signs of life, opening his eyes, and raising back up in his seat somewhat.  His friends/family gave him water.  He started assuring them he was ok.  Guy was sweating heavily now. I turned to the man sitting beside me and suggested that the man was most likely drunk.  Figured those seated in front of him were in danger of getting puked on before the game was over.

KR returned to his seat, visibly shaken.  I praised him for doing the right thing and acting quickly.  He kept shrugging his shoulders wondering if he’d overreacted (an older gentleman behind us actually placed a 911 call) and wondered if the first aid folks were ever going to come.

KR just kept watching, waiting, and wondering.  This was all new territory for him.  For me, I was just getting irritated at this “sick” man now and his whole group who had failed to at least turn around and acknowledge the fact that my son had sprinted for help because half our section thought he was in serious medical distress.

Two ladies finally appeared at the bottom of our section some 8 minutes later, carrying first aid bags.  Passed out guy and the three people with him pretended to not see them!  They were going to act like nothing happened.  My whole row wasn’t buying it.  We all raised our arms and pointed to say, “right here dude”.  Passed out guy pleaded his case for only a minute before leaving with the EMT’s.  He never returned.

A crisis was started by someone’s poor judgement.  Their problem became the problem of others.  Their subsequent actions showed that they were perfectly willing to be blind to those around them…….the beauty of drunkenness.

In that moment of crisis, when a man was sitting motionless in his seat, it was the adults who were frozen in place.  In the back of our minds, most of us stood watching and hoping someone else would go for help.  But no one did.  Some of us may have had that immediate thought in the back of our minds, “it’s probably self-inflicted, I’m not getting involved.”

The young mind is a clean slate, not poisoned by things we are “certain” of.  Not hindered by watching and analyzing everything to death before acting.  Perhaps these same things poison an adult Christians’ ability to live by faith and not by sight.  When someone cried out, “somebody needs to get somebody”, KR was the only one in our immediate area under the age of 30.  And he’s also the only one that moved.  The rest of us were busy thinking……..and watching.

That’s one way I’m glad he’s not like his dad.  For all the times that he has looked to his dad for a cue for the right thing to do……he looked quickly to me this time and saw that I wasn’t going to do it.  So he did it himself.

Yeah, I’m a people watcher.  I guess it’s a good thing I’m not an EMT.

END NOTE: The first stadium worker that Karrick Ryne approached to tell about an unresponsive person in our section told him to go find somebody else because they were on break.   You can’t make this stuff up.