Go Navy?

Anyway, I’ll try and get a picture of him in his full regalia next week. For now, here’s a shot of him in his Navy PT workout clothes.

Kathy

When I was employed at Amazon, I enjoyed a four-day work-week, with Mondays off. I used to take the kids away for the day, on some adventure or other, and let Kathy stay home. She is with the kids nearly all the time, as mother and teacher. I joke that we need to give her some ‘down time’ or we’ll end up checking her into the Whispering Pines Clinic for Homeschooling Moms, an imaginary treatment center for teaching moms who experience nervous breakdowns.

Maybe it isn’t quite as imaginary as I thought.

My parents hosted a Pastor’s Retreat at the Refuge, and so on the Sunday afternoon before Labor Day I loaned them Joshua as a Gibeonite (a hewer of wood and drawer of water) to help set up for the event. The other four and I followed Monday morning, so that I could serve as a photographer and the younger kids could help out as needed.

There were about 25 pastors and their wives in attendance at this year’s conference.

Some Dads dread a day with their children, but not me; my children are a lot of fun to be around. Everyone seemed cheerful as we set off; the younger three read books quietly in the back of the van while Rachel and I chatted companionably in the front.

Setting up for lunch

At the Retreat center, the kids helped out while I snapped pictures, and then waited patiently for everyone to be served before sampling the lunch buffet.

The Refuge Dining Room

After helping to move all the chairs back to the meeting room (there was such a large crowd that we needed to use the meeting-room chairs for dining) the younger four and I went geocaching, while Joshua stayed to enjoy the second half of the Pastor’s conference. In spite of the rain, we tramped up and down the coast of the Hood Canal and found all six of our intended caches.

A typical geocache is found in an old ammunition box, often hidden in a dead log.

Daniel, my middle boy, felt that he was badly treated by his siblings at one of the caches, and was inclined to sulk. “I’ll just sit in the car, then,” he told me grumpily. Such incidents often spiral downward with Daniel, so I braced myself for a long afternoon of rebukes and punishments; but God had more cheerful plans. I was pleasantly surprised to see Daniel reverse course quickly and snap out of his selfishness, kindly offering treats from his backpack to the others and working hard to engage them in smiling conversation. I was proud of him for the effort he took to restore his relationship with his siblings.

Some geocaches are much smaller, like this one (the size of a pill bottle)

We returned in time to sample the dessert buffet.

“How do you do that?” Joshua asked me. “You arrive just as the line clears, but before all the dessert is gone. You must teach me this.”

I smiled mysteriously – I don’t tell all of my secrets.

My parents were tired after the guests departed, and it seemed that we would be more trouble than we were worth, so we didn’t stay to help clean up.

We did manage to score some leftovers, though.

Worried that we might return home before Kathy was quite ready for us, and wanting Joshua to get some after-dark driving experience, I decided to stop off in Shelton. “We’re here to stall,” I told the kids, in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Usually we are quite anxious to get home, but for some reason, everyone seemed to accept this cheerfully. “I really want Mom to finish my chart,” Rachel insisted, “so we should take our time.” We wandered the aisles of Wal-Mart and managed to find one or two things that we hadn’t realized we ‘needed’. No one (except Sarah) seemed to want to eat at McDonalds, so we jumped back into the van and I cruised the shopping center for an alternative.

We’re pretty frugal about some things, and so we don’t eat out at restaurants very much. I spotted a Godfather’s Pizza and hustled the kids inside to enjoy the all-you-can-eat buffet, much to their surprise and delight. “You have been hiding this place from me,” my oldest son reproved, eyeing the pizza hungrily.

Not our actual Godfather’s Pizza restaurant.

One of the cool things about parenting is that your children often reflect facets of the two people you love best in the world: yourself, and your spouse. I was very impressed to see all five of my children hit the salad bar first, and only then did they sample the pizza selections. Kathy has been an excellent role model in healthy eating, these past five years. They took after me in terms of the quantity of pizza that was consumed.

Having the dining area to ourselves, I asked to have the big TV turned off, and we laughed and told stories and carried on as though we were at home in our own kitchen. We played the “What are you thankful for?” game, always one of my favorites at meal times. Eventually the buffet closed, and we reluctantly tore ourselves away and staggered to the van.

Joshua drove us home, contravening all custom and common practice by staying in one lane and observing the speed limit, much to the consternation of the other drivers. I reflected on the cheerfulness of the day, and how devoid it had been of bickering, selfishness and mean words.

Laughter, yes; mean words, no.

How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity! — Psalm 133:1

My heart was full of joy and pride, thinking of the grace, kindness and positive leadership that my children had shown to the retreat participants and to each other.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. — 3 John 4

Tim

Film maker Joshua and his crew.

Our plane was delayed in Dallas, and it seemed quite late when we finally got home. Our dear friend Jen-Bob, not content with picking us up at the airport, also cleaned our house and stocked our fridge with surprises, regaling us with stories and laughter until we could no longer keep our eyes open. A “Welcome Home” sign from Michelle and Jen-Bob’s “10 Reasons I’m Glad They Are Home” on our whiteboard, helped us to know that we had been missed.

Sarah and her cousin, Aydia, have a LITTLE too much fun together.

I had big plans for our 14 days in Texas, some of which failed to materialize; even so, it was a very successful vacation by any measure. Along with Kathy’s parents, all three of her brothers were there, with two of their wives, four cousins (including the celebrity, Baby Logan), a friend from Michigan, and a Great Uncle and his friend, rounding us out to 21 in all.

Hot and sunny and one big family.

We swapped stories, played cards and board games, drove around in golf carts, ate many delicious meals, hunted geocaches, and devoured bowl after generous bowl of ice cream at the local PICO’s store. The pool (the length of a football field) was mostly ours alone, and many happy hours were spent splashing, floating, swimming and just sitting with our feet dangling in the cool spring water.

Tahlia and Rachel are buddies!

We worked on several crafts and projects as a family, and gathered each evening to hear the kids read aloud “the Chapter” from the gospel of Matthew, and to discuss it together. I was permitted to teach Sunday School the first week at a local church, and Kathy’s Dad was invited to preach there the second Sunday.

Time to read the Bible chapter!

Several went fishing, some visited the local museum, and there were many shopping excursions to replenish food stocks. I worked from the library two days, and we checked email sporadically. Kathy’s Dad quashed a termite infestation and worked around the yard. Nerf wars raged and pictures were snapped by the hundreds. Everyone seemed to work hard to get along and to be kind, which was no small accomplishment with so many people underfoot.

Grandad (and the golf cart) are the true favorites of our time in Texas.

Normal life is sometimes hard. We are busy people, and it is no easy task to serve in our church, raise and school our children, do our work and maintain our home. But it seems easier, somehow, to put our shoulder to the wheel, with such warm and golden memories treasured up from this summer vacation.

Tim

Today Tim has the children and will be gone until dark. Can you hear the angels singing? I have the entire day to myself. There are school books and binders spread across the dining room table. My hope is to have some sort of a school plan established by the end of the day.

Hence my time here on the blog. There’s too much pressure over in the other room - books to sort, curriculum decisions to make, a transcript of Joshua’s freshmen year to document, meals to plan.

Instead of dealing with all of that, I’d much rather think about our vacation, where it was hot and sunny and there was no talk of school allowed.

Yes, we settled on red as our theme traveling shirt this year. It was a tough battle between green and red, and one child voted for a Christmas look, combining the two favored colors. Needless to say red won.

With that said, I must get back to the table o’ responsibility that awaits me. Cheers on this Labor Day!

Kathy

Mind you, there were only 3ish bikes, and about on average 18ish children (counting a few neighborhood hooligans) So if you wanted to use the bikes, you had to:

1. Bribe a brother
2. Keep the bikes out of sight from other competitors
3. Escape!

It was lots of fun! : )

Anyways, the bikes, golf cart rides, swimming, walking, talking, were all fun, but I think my favorite was the ping pong tournaments! The CITS (counselors in training), Hannah, Allison, and I, all participated. Oh and an occasionally a dad or two. ; ) We played games like; Round Robin, (haha even now I still want to call it Red Robin! :P) We played two on two, and one on one. But my favorite was definitively ‘Red Robin’. Because so many people could play!

They pretend to be working on camp stuff, but they’re really plotting ping-pong strategies.

An exploding ping-pong would be cool!

Another fun thing we did, was geocaching. I think my dad wrote a blog on geocaching not to long ago, but just in case you missed it, I’ll put a link! Just for you! : )

The first geocache we visited was on a cool rock mound. We had to drive up and up and up to get there. I got dizzy! haha : P

Sarah picked this out of the cache just for Mom.

The second was not a real cache, but just a cool location. The Pancho, and Edgren children (except for the younger ones) braved the climb down, than up the steep rocks. I probably should have stayed, because I fell in 3 times! And if you don’t believe me, I have bruises to prove it! lol : )

This waterfall was awesome! Even if I did fall in.

I just came from swim team, ahhh it was hard, but it felt sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo good to swim!! That’s one of the only things I missed during the week at the Duckabush. I love swimming! : )

Dan seemed to think this water was good for swimming. Brrrr

This was our LAST geocache of the day. Number 3!

Also, a super fun part of the week was driving around on the Red Blitz, I don’t really know why they call the golf cart that…. maybe they hope it will go faster with a cool name? I think that’s a good idea! Grandma and Grandpa were major nice to share the ‘Red Blitz’ with us. And, we only broke one little part of it. I thought that was pretty good, for almost two houses full of teens!

This is my Grandpa, and of course my favorite sister. (oh wait, I only have one! haha)

Here, Hannah and I are pretending to drive crazy, but no worries, I’m a safe person. ; )

The rest of the week was spent playing doing, well just about anything you can think of, it was pretty amazing. We even managed to clean the house on Saturday. The girls and my mom rushed around cleaning as fast as possible, it was….. well, interesting I miss it already…… It was a GREAT week and we were all sad to go home.

I hope next year everyone can come out to the Duckabush, and have an even better time! Oh AND, I’ll be a CIT next year!! MWHAHAHA just kidding, I am excited though! : ) I think…….

Sincerely, anonymous or not so anonymous Edgren child : )

Dear Diary,

It took us three vehicles to get out to the Duckabush. I think Mom filled up an entire car with food and suitcases. She tends to over pack. It makes her handy to have in an emergency.

The bikes were on the back of her car. Dad didn’t want to bring them, but Mom insisted. I heard her mumbling something like, “I don’t care if those bikes aren’t safe on gravel… it’s a great learning opportunity.” But I might be wrong. Mom even convinced the neighbor to “show her how to put the bike rack on” while she went inside and had some coffee. The bikes turned out to be great, and the scratches healed really quickly. I guess Mom occasionally comes up with a good idea.

Even though we were on vacation, Mom seemed to spend a lot of time in the kitchen. I don’t know what took so long. There were only 8 or 9 kids at the house for the week. Is it that hard to feed people? Sigh.

David, Lizzie and Emma are ready for s’mores.

Plus she kept leaving the kitchen and trying to relax on the deck (something about “it’s my vacation too, you bunch of hungry children”). One day she completely burnt a bag of popcorn. I don’t think the kitchen will ever smell the same. Another day she pretty much destroyed a frying pan while she went out to say hello to friends. What is with that?

It’s important to have a pink fuzzy blanket for the fire pit.

Some moms are just not very attentive. I think she finally took the smoke alarm and disabled it.

Little Daniel helped carry sticks up to the fire for roasting marshmallows.

Thankfully there was a fire pit up above the creek. No smoke alarms around and we could have s’mores. Of course, Mom said we could only have two s’mores each. Doesn’t she know we need sugar to fuel us for the week? So what if there were 16 kids (6 or 8 of them teenagers) fighting over the marshmallows? Didn’t she pack enough for unlimited s’mores?

Michelle hugs Eli. He probably had 3 s’mores.

Rachel had LOTS of girl time this week.

What kind of camp is this anyway?

Daniel and Hannah wonder if Bethany can catch marshmallows without using her hands.

Leanne and Luke - pros at getting the little kids to roast marshmallows for them.

While we were sitting around the fire, we had our Bible chapter time. We’re in the middle of 2 Samuel right now. Nothing spices up a camp fire like a discussion of King David beating up some Philistines.

If we could keep Joshua focused on reading the chapter, there were more s’mores for the rest of us.

These look innocent, but I’m not sure….

There were also some rather violent games that took place during the week. The main injury was Bethany’s glasses. Not bad considering the crowd involved.

Timothy and Bethany were the true champions of the fierce sack race competitions. It was only when they faced each other that the trouble took place.

So diary, I don’t have time to write any more. I’ll try to come back again soon. Thanks for always being there. XOXOXO

Anonymous Edgren child

“That’s great,” I nodded approvingly. “International finance is a challenging field, but I’ll bet it pays for itself, eh?” I chuckled into my Diet Coke. Mike looked blankly nervous, and I mentally revised my impression of him downward. Some of these financial-type guys don’t have very good social skills.

Mike and I pose for an obligatory ‘husbands’ shot

Later, for no apparent reason, Mike led me around the yard, with some kind of compass that looked like a walkie-talkie. “I’ve hidden items at coordinates around your property; now you try to find them,” he confided, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

“Really?” I was somewhat surprised. I didn’t know Mike very well – heck, I hadn’t yet worked up to asking him for a loan, let alone a gift. “I guess our wives ARE pretty good friends,” I mused. “What kind of items, Krugeraands or precious gems?”

Mike tried to conceal his embarrassment beneath a veneer of bafflement. “Look, just try to find the cache, will you?”

“Better and better,” I thought. Cash is so much easier to handle — I wouldn’t know how to sell the Krugeraands, anyway.

We stopped to take a group-family-picture. We and another family graciously loaned Mike and De’Etta some of our children, since they have such a small family.

I wandered aimlessly around the back yard, peering under likely bushes, until Mike was overcome by impatience. “Look,” he growled, tapping his finger peremptorily on the screen of the walkie-talkie device he had given me. “You head toward wherever the compass arrow points, and you stop and search when it says you’re within 20 feet.”

I was offended. “You act as though I’ve never done this before,” I scolded. “Now, remind me: why, exactly, does this long line come together with these other two angled shorter lines? And what does ‘N’ stand for, anyway?” I indicated the small screen on the walkie-talkie, filled with incomprehensible numbers and symbols.

I wasn’t the only one who had trouble reading the GPS device.

By dint of elimination of all possible concealment, I eventually found the first ‘hidden item’, a plastic dinosaur tucked under the deck of my hot tub. I shook it hopefully, but no gems spilled out of its toothy mouth. “Heh, heh. One of the kids must’ve left this here,” I said, hopefully.

“No, that’s it — now on to the next one!” enthused Mike. He pushed a few buttons on the yellow device and handed it back to me. “Try to find the second one — I had a lot of fun hiding it. Har, har, har.”

Not our actual back yard.

As the sun went behind the trees, I sadly concluded that Mike was a raving lunatic. How else could a grown man take such delight in ‘finding’ so-called ‘treasures’ he had hidden himself only a few hours before, with the help of a mechanical device of dubious utility?

I tried to tactfully extricate myself, well aware that any remark, seeming to challenge his delusion, might cause him to turn violent. “You know,” I wheedled, “we could save quite a bit of time if you would just tell me where the last one is hidden, heh, heh.” I grinned nervously, while frantically signaling to my wife behind my back.

Latte was maliciously oblivious to my plight. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked Mike’s family, sweetly. Mike seemed to be doing something frantic with his hands, behind his back, but I was too polite to notice.

Thistle opens a cache …

Coincidentally, Mike and his family were not able to stay for dinner, but were seized with an urgent need to decamp. We were left standing on the front lawn with the squeal of their 15-passenger van tires ringing in our ears. That evening I spent some research time on the internet, mainly to determine whether mental conditions (like those exhibited by Mike) were in any way contagious.

As I later deduced, Mike was trying to introduce me to a new outdoor ‘sport’ combining the least enjoyable parts of hiking and orienteering with treasure-hunting, only without the treasure (or the pirates). Using devices attuned to Global Positioning satellites, it is apparently possible to arrive within 15 or 20 feet of a predefined hide-site, or ‘cache’, given a set of coordinates and one of those fancy-schmancy GPS ‘navigator’ devices.

Rhubarb hones his mystical eastern martial art skillz, to assist in locating a cache.

“Humph,” I humphed. “I’ll bet that GPS thingy he tried to pass off on me was defective. I’d better buy my own.” Furtively, I ordered the cheapest one I could find that looked cooler than Mike’s. “Mine has a high-resolution color screen,” I gloated, quickly closing the Amazon order-confirmation page in my browser before Latte could catch me in the act.

“What did you just order?” she intoned, suspiciously. Latte is always jumping to conclusions; one of these days she’ll jump to the wrong one, and then I’ll show no mercy.

“Just a little GPS thingy,” I told her airily, as an adept of deep mysteries addresses a novice. “I’ve decided to take up geostashing. The brochure says it will promote health and family bonding and what-not.” I showed her the glowing picture of a stalwart, muscular father, boldly leading a passel of clear-eyed, smiling children up a precipitous mountain ridge, GPS thingy in-hand. “I’ll bet I can geobash better than any old international finance guy,” I told her, confidently.

My actual GPS thingy

“You could definitely use the exercise,” Latte chortled, slapping my belly off-handedly, producing a sound like a carpet-cleaner beating out a rug with one of those big wooden paddles. “But where can you rent kids like that?”

Although we rarely agree in such matters, Latte had a point. I mentally compared my own children with those in the brochure. My three boys (Faramir, Weasel and Rhubarb), though physically impressive enough, were better-known for being squint-eyed and surly, at least whenever their fingers were pried away from their computer game controllers. My girls (Foxglove and Thistle) are outwardly attractive enough, but both take after their mother in sniggering and snide remarks. I could just imagine how harried the Dad in the brochure picture would look, if he was constantly badgered the way that I am:

“Say, Dad,” one of them would sneer,” since when does the sun set in the East?”

I turned my attention back to Latte. “Maybe I could train ‘em, you know, build some character into the little rascals, like you’re always saying I should.” Latte looked doubtful, but I crushed my misgivings. After all, I’d already ordered the GPS thingy, so there was no going back.

Eventually, my Garmin eTrex Venture HC GPS Navigator ™ came in the mail, and it was every bit as wonderful as I had hoped. I tried to distract my wife from the price tag. “Notice how mine has a high-resolution color screen, and is substantially nicer than Mike’s?”

Latte squinted hopefully. “Does it have the locations of all 16,120 Starbucks stores world-wide, pre-programmed?”

Once we established that the device did not, in fact, have any coffee bistros pre-loaded (not even a Forza), my wife concealed her breathless excitement by carelessly tossing it over her shoulder onto the couch. “Whatever,” she fleered.

The following Saturday dawned bright and clear, and I gathered the kids to form a geognashing party. “Now, look,” I told them sternly, hitching up my shorts. “We’re doing this as a family, and I expect everyone to be kind, take turns, share the GPS thingy, and not rush to be first all the time. It will probably involve a good bit of walking around in the woods, so bring some water and wear solid shoes and long pants.” I adjusted my flip-flops self-consciously.

The mighty hunters boldly set forth …

We drove around for quite a while, trying to get near the coordinates I had painstakingly entered into the GPS thingy. People having rudely built their houses in our way, we were forced to circle the neighborhood, seeking an access path. As always, the kids admired my driving and navigational skills.

“Say, Dad, that’s the fourth time we’ve turned down this street. Maybe you could try a left at this next road, before we stop for lunch?”

We eventually found a path into the park, and descended into a green, leafy ravine; an unsuspected natural haven lurking behind rows of suburban houses.

You would think that a treasure hunt with a technological twist would be fun for the whole family, but we were plagued with such incessant whining and unbridled selfishness, that it threatened to spoil the entire outing for everyone. One person, in particular, was a veritable fountain of complaints.

“I’m hot, I’m thirsty, I got a scratch from some blackberries, and my feet are tired.”

“I think it is my turn to hold the GPS thingy, and I’m tired of carrying this plastic toy!”

“How much farther does it say it is?”

“Only 482 feet, Dad,” Foxglove tried to reassure me. “We’ve come so far, more than 100 feet from the car already, isn’t that encouraging?”

See, I did let others hold the GPS at least some of the time.

I decided to keep a stiff upper lip, as a good example to the children. Calling for them to assemble around me, I gave a stirring and inspirational lecture on the merits of bearing hardship with patience and stoic courage.

“Thanks, Dad — that was very stirring and inspirational.” Weasel soothed. “How ‘bout you keep a stiff upper lip in the car, while we hike over to the cache?”

Eventually we located and opened four such caches in succession; in a spurt of generosity, I even let the kids find one of them. We swapped the worthless plastic trinkets we had brought in our pockets for worthless plastic trinkets left by other geocache enthusiasts. I began to suspect that the entire ‘sport’ had originated as a clever ploy to dispose of unwanted Happy Meal ™ toys.

One cache was reptile themed, so we brought tiny plastic dinosaurs to leave for the next ‘lucky’ group.

As I sat at home that evening, pouring hydrogen peroxide on my bramble-wounds, I realized that I had actually enjoyed myself, and burned a few calories to boot. The children proudly showed off their ‘prizes’ to Latte, and I spent some time online, bragging about the caches we had found. No longer did our user name on the geocaching.com website have that shameful “(0 found)” label beside it – we had begun to be ‘players’ in the international community of geohashing.

Some of the caches (like this one that Weasel tracked down) were very small and consisted only of a rolled-up log …

I went over to my friend’s house and hammered on the front door. It opened, warily. “Hey, Dave, guess what? I’ve become a geotrasher!” I brandished my GPS thingy.

Dave tried to slam the door in my face, but I deftly blocked it with my foot, causing it to rebound painfully into his chest. Dave always enjoys my visits, but sometimes his clowning is a bit tiresome. Pressing the GPS device into his hand, I pushed past him and settled comfortably into his recliner, grabbing the remote. “I’ve hidden items at coordinates around your property, now you try to find them!”

Special thanks to Pat McManus, whose memorable style inspired this story.

So where is Tim in this time of blogging famine?

Typing up a storm?
Writing pithy captions for the intriguing pictures he snapped along the dusty trail?
No, he is NOT!

He’s sacked out on Dough Boy, eyes closed, an empty ice cream bowl dangling from his finger tips. Dough Boy is our couch, not some random prescription drug. Just wanted to clarify.

So, instead of an interesting blog on the intricacies of geocaching, we’ll have to settle for some pictures of Sarah’s outing.

Sarah and I were invited to pick cherries at a friend’s house this afternoon. Tim, with an eye on the birthdays rapidly approaching, swooped the rest of the children off for a shopping expedition. Joshua and his posse are off at a Counselor’s In Training (C.I.T.) retreat this weekend.

On our way, Sarah and I discussed fruit, both of us admitting that we don’t really care for cherries. “Let’s not tell Mrs. P,” I said to Sarah, “it might hurt her feelings.” Sarah looked puzzled, “What do we do, if she asks us?” she inquired. “How about we say, ‘They’re not my favorite.’” I suggested helpfully. Not wanting to encourage Sarah in duplicity, but hoping to teach some social skills, I had her practice.

“Let me hear you say it.”
Sarah responded haltingly, “They’re not my favorite.”
“Perfect,” I chorused.

Sure enough the first thing Karen said, as we found her down at the end of the garden, was, “Sarah, do you like cherries?”

Sarah is always ready for an adventure.

Pause
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“It’s my birthday next week,” she said helpfully looking up at Karen sweetly.

Ah good, I thought, misdirection. Nothing like an adorable 6 year old to change the subject.

That’s an awfully big ladder!

“How nice!” Karen responded enthusiastically. “Are you excited to try some of these cherries?” Karen is not easily distracted.

“It’s my mommy’s birthday too,” Sarah informed her, “we share a birthday.”

“Wow! That’s wonderful.”

Sarah did not go unaccompanied up the tall ladder.

At this point, I was pretty sure Karen no longer cared about Sarah’s interest in eating cherries and was ready to direct us in actually picking them. As she handed us a bag and pointed out the low lying branches, laden with cherries, Sarah piped up cheerfully, “Cherries are not my favorite.”

“Really,” Karen said, looking at me.
“Nope, Sarah continued eagerly, “or Mommy’s. We don’t really like them.”

“Well, heh heh,” I stammered, “David and Tim love them, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to spend some time with you in your beautiful garden.” Thankfully those things were true, no misdirection needed.

As it turned out, fresh Rainier cherries are delicious. We both ate handfuls of them, still managing to fill up two bags to take home with us. I went on to eat another small bowlful that evening. A cherry convert.

We even saved some for the boys, barely.

Kathy

Sarah definitely needs a fresh cut.

Or is it hairs cut?
Hair cuts?

Yikes. Do we have to work on grammar during the summer?

When I made the appointment for Rachel I mentioned Sarah getting her hair done later in July, “When I have some fresh funds in my hair cut budget,” I mumbled. The stylist heard me and generously encouraged me to bring in both girls. “I can give you a discount,” she offered kindly.

Sarah loved her new look.

Just when I am frustrated with the constraints of a budget and the limits on my spending, I see God working. He is not limited by funds.

…for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. Psalm 50:10

It’s always nice to be pampered.

Not only does the Lord hold out His hand to bless me, He uses the people around me. In the famous words of Professor Oppelbaumer, “it’s a vin, vin, vin situation.” They are rewarded in their gift of time, energy and resources, and I am honored by their kindness.

A blessed mother and her precious jewels.

Kathy

On Wednesday, I read my daily Bible selection, following the through-the-Bible-in-a-year schedule as set out by the good folks at One Year Bible.

Not my actual Bible. I use the online version, usually NIV or some other

I came across a passage in Luke that warns against complacency among believers, and encourages faithful servants of the Master to be ready for His return. I had tended to interpret this as referring primarily to the Second Coming, the time when Jesus returns in majesty, glory and power to claim His own.

One of the really cool things about reading the Bible is that, because it is the very inspired living Word of God, the Holy Spirit is able to interpret it to the heart of man in new and fuller ways, the more it is read and studied. This time when I read it, I thought in terms of the smaller ‘returns’ of the Master, as He calls to me in my day-to-day life:

“Be dressed for service and keep your lamps burning, as though you were waiting for your master to return from the wedding feast. Then you will be ready to open the door and let him in the moment he arrives and knocks. The servants who are ready and waiting for his return will be rewarded. I tell you the truth, he himself will seat them, put on an apron, and serve them as they sit and eat! He may come in the middle of the night or just before dawn. But whenever he comes, he will reward the servants who are ready.” — Luke 12:35-38

Many non-believers play a deadly sort of game with God, knowing that He exists, but delaying their recognition of Him in their lives. “I’ll get right with God when I’m done with the ‘me’ phase of my life,” they tell themselves, not realizing that they are hardening their hearts against God’s influence, painting themselves into a corner where they cannot respond to His love, more surely than Ebenezer Scrooge forged his chains of greed. When the end of their life comes, often unexpectedly, they find that they never quite made the time or opportunity to turn their hearts to God, and so they spend eternity, separated from Him and all of His glory.

I think it is possible even for a Christian to play a variant of this game. “I’ll become a fully devoted follower of Jesus once I take care of [insert excuse here]”. It may be a job, wealth, family, marital status, schooling, personal entertainment or any other thing that I put ahead of the call of the Master in my life. And so they go on with their lives, not responding to the Master’s call in their daily walk with Him.

“But what if the servant thinks, ‘My master won’t be back for a while,’ and he begins beating the other servants, partying, and getting drunk? The master will return unannounced and unexpected, and he will cut the servant in pieces and banish him with the unfaithful.” — Luke 12:45-46

Surprise, surprise, at some point the Master will return in glory, and mete out rewards and punishments as promised. But along the way, there are also many rewards to be had, for those servants who are faithful to obey His voice.

I haven’t been sleeping very well of late, because of my allergies – averaging about 5 hours of sleep a night. When I finally saw an allergist on Monday, he gave me a steroid that almost entirely dealt with my symptoms, but (ironically) prevented me from sleeping the first night I took it. On Tuesday I fired off a note to the men I pray with on Wednesday mornings, telling them I may take a ‘pass’ if I was unable to get to sleep early Tuesday night. But before I slept that night, I asked God to wake me if He wanted me there. Then I carefully turned OFF my alarm.

About 25 minutes before we usually meet, Kathy woke up and went to the bathroom, waking me when she came back to bed. I looked at the clock, and realized that, if I took a quick shower and hustled, I could make it on time. Part of me wanted to go back to sleep, but a louder part of me remembered the prayer the night before.

“The Master is calling,“ I reminded myself; and so I got up, grumbling: “… but does He have to call ‘just before dawn’, just to fulfill the Scriptures?”

I’m not very gracious in my thoughts, early mornings.

As it turns out, it was important that I was there to pray, and my presence there opened up several other ways for me to serve. More and more I find myself listening for the voice of my King, and eagerly wanting to please Him, to demonstrate to Him that I am a good servant, not beating the other servants or getting drunk while ‘waiting’ for Him to return.

I was talking yesterday evening with a dear brother, about motivation in pleasing God. “Is it right to be motivated by a desire for reward, when obeying God?” he asked. Christians sometimes get caught up on this kind of thing, wanting to serve with the purest of motives, but not knowing how to get to that point.

“Well, God set up the whole idea of rewards for good service,” I told him. “I don’t think He has any illusions about our motives, and He doesn’t seem to have a problem with our mercenary greed, at least when it is put to His service.” I paused reflectively.

“In my life, I’ve found that the more I serve, the purer my motives become. Even when I start out obeying out of obligation, duty or even fear, I find (if I keep obeying) that my motives begin to joyfully skew toward obedience out of love.”

I’m sure I wasn’t quite that articulate, but, hey, this is my blog, and I can quote myself however I like. I went on at some length, trying to paint a picture of someone who starts out at Duty, and arrives at Love. Most people can identify with this at some level – parenting an infant is like that, or working at a new job (if it is a good one).

Every day that I go in to ‘the city’ to work, I drive past one of the ubiquitous coffee stands that infest our town. This particular one advertises, in a garish pink sign, ‘Bikini Barrista Babes’, and its chain has been featured in local news stories for the scanty nature of the ‘bikinis’. Every day I want to look over as I drive past and check out the girls who serve the coffee. It is a dangerous stretch of road, frankly, not the least because of that visual distraction.

At first, I didn’t look out of duty and obligation. How could I expect to be a worthy instrument of God’s grace if I disobeyed such a simple instruction, so early in the day?

“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” — Matthew 5:28

“You shall not commit adultery.” — Exodus 20:14

It doesn’t get much plainer than that, I’m afraid. It is clearly not God’s intent for a man to lust after a woman who is not his wife.

This morning I was thinking about my heart motivations, and I realized that I was able to keep my eyes on the road, not begrudging the duty, but out of joy. “I make a covenant with my eyes not to lust after strange women,” I reminded myself, “because I love my Lord and want to please Him.”

“Women who wear bikinis at 5 in the morning to serve coffee are definitely strange,” I mused.

I’m sure my motivations will not always be good and pure, but I find that I am able to get to that point more and more as I practice obedience.

Still, it would be nice if the Master would return in mid-afternoon, when it is convenient for me.

Tim