Tag Archives: Grateful

Top Five Things I Appreciate About My Dad

Chip off the ol' block.
Chip off the ol’ block.

It’s Top Five Friday! From the home office in Pella, Iowa. Here are the top five things I appreciate about my father.

  1. He said “I love you”…every day. He has also said “I’m proud of you.” I have met a startling number of men on my life journey who have significant soul wounds from fathers who never said those words. It wasn’t until I set out on a journey of my own to discover about what it means to be a man that I discovered how this simple act, one that I’d always took for granted, was a true act of manliness that many males just don’t get.
  2. He taught me how to be affectionate. I’m a hugger. I loved cuddling with my daughters when they were young. I love cuddling with my wife, hugging her, holding her, touching her. I know that the women in my life value my ability to show appropriate, manly, loving affection.  I learned that from my dad who was always affectionate with my mother, and with me and my siblings. Interestingly, my earliest memory is of my dad holding me. We were sitting in a black leather chair. He was wearing a white t-shirt. I couldn’t have been older than two or three.
  3. He taught me to shoot, to fish, and to hunt. While I never developed a passion for fishing and hunting like my dad had, I certainly value the knowledge and the many memories I have of days spent fishing the boundary waters and walking the autumn fields of Iowa with my dad. As an adult, I was once asked if I wanted to go hunting with a bunch of men from church. They assumed that I was unlearned in the field, but I agreed to go and brought my brother’s 20 gauge Remington shotgun to the hunt. The boys gave me a hefty dose of ribbing about my “small gun” and asked why I didn’t use a 12 gauge shotgun which was more powerful and had better range. A short time later when I was the only member of the party with a pheasant in the bag I smiled at my surprised companions and quietly said, “If you know how to shoot, you don’t need a 12 gauge.” Thanks, Dad.
  4. He taught me the value of hard work. It wasn’t something he said, but something he did. It was growing up watching him do what needed to be done every day. It wasn’t just the getting up and going to work early every morning or sitting and working at the kitchen table on weekends during tax season, but also they way he spent evenings and weekends doing what needed to be done around the house, fixing things up, making things better. It was the expectation of being productive, giving it your best, and doing a good job no matter the task. I watched. I learned. I’m grateful.
  5. He let me become who I was meant to be. I never felt pressure to be what he wanted me to be or hoped I would be. He didn’t tell me what college to go to and I didn’t get a stern lecture when I chose to be a theatre major. I was never told what extra-curricular activities I would be involved in, but got to choose and explore those things which I enjoyed and the things in which I was interested. I was quietly allowed to make mistakes, even tragic ones, that led to failures which I needed to experience in order to grow and mature. There was never an “I told you so,” “If you’d only listened to me,” “I could have told you,” or “What in the hell were you thinking?!” There was, however, if I may reference the top of this list, always an “I love you” and always a hug.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thanks. And, I love you, too.

Chapter-a-Day Romans 16

Jail Cell
Image by abardwell via Flickr

Hello to my cousins Andronicus and Junias. We once shared a jail cell. Romans 16:7a (MSG)

Just last week I was on a business trip that sent me and my coworker driving down I35 from San Antonio, Texas to Laredo and back. While we driving, I suddenly had a flood of memories. I was on that same stretch of interstate when I was 16. Around 40 kids from my church youth group drove from Des Moines, Iowa to Acapulco, Mexico and back in four vans of questionable road worthiness (talk about road trip). Even though it was 30 years ago, there are experiences from that trip that are permanently, vividly etched in my memory:

  • Breaking down. Frequently. (especially fun in the desert)
  • Sleeping on concrete. A lot.
  • Learning the true meaning of Montezuma’s Revenge, then thinking my sister really loved me enough to give up her “free day” in Acapulco to nurse me back to health. Later I found out she really just wanted an excuse, while I was unconscious in bed, to steal a pair of underwear from each of the boys so the girls could tie dye them all purple.
  • Singing, laughing, fighting, and sharing Jesus with others.

Shared experience connects us with others. You know that behind Paul’s greeting to Adronicus and Junias, there is a story. You don’t share a jail cell without there being a story or two.

Today, I’m grateful for those with whom I’ve shared some really incredible experiences along the journey.

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Chapter-a-Day Isaiah 3

Taken for granted. [God's] withdrawing police and protection, judges and courts, pastors and teachers, captains and generals, doctors and nurses, and, yes, even the repairmen and jacks-of-all-trades. Isaiah 3:1b-2 (MSG)

In 1993, massive spring floods deluged downtown Des Moines. The Des Moines Water Works was under water and my family was among over 100,000 people who experienced life without the blessing and convenience of water. Life was radically different without fresh water right from tap with which to cook, clean, shower and use the toilet. Ten days without water, which I previously taken for granted, was an eye opener.

Think for a moment of all the things we take for granted. Contemplate all of the things that make up the unconscious infrastructure of our day. Clean water fresh from the tap. Clean bathrooms and toilet paper. Heat in the winter. Air Conditining in the summer. Access to transportation. Stocked grocery stores. Waste removal. Meditate on the unseen throng of professionals on whom you depend from civil utilities to business to law enforcement to health professionals. Imagine all of those daily support systems breaking down and disappearing.

The verse above reminds me today that one of the ways God brought judgment was the simple peeling away of societal support systems. I don't want to take for granted all that God has blessed me with. I'm mindful and grateful for the people and systems that support my daily existence. I don't even want to imagine what would my life would be like if they were suddenly stripped away.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and pinksherbet

Chapter-a-Day Exodus 36

Harvest time in a land of plenty. All the artisans who were at work making everything involved in constructing the Sanctuary came, one after another, to Moses, saying, "The people are bringing more than enough for doing this work that God has commanded us to do!" Exodus 36:4-5 (MSG)

It's harvest time in Iowa as I write this post. For those of us who have grown up in the mid-west, harvest is woven into our sub-conscious tapestry of our experience. An army of green, red, blue and gold combines and tractors spread out across the fertile hills and valleys. Each day the entire landscape changes hue and texture as grain is harvested. The tall, golden stalks of corn that were there yesterday are gone tomorrow. Fields are laid low as mountains of harvested grain appear outside of towns and local co-ops.

Another bumper crop. A bountiful harvest.

I thought of that this morning as I read of the offerings for the Tent of Dwelling. "More than enough." What a great message to receive. We have an abundance. Needs are met. Coffers are filled. Grain bins are bursting.

We are so blessed and I, too often, take it for granted.

God, I have all that I need, and then some. I have more than enough. Teach me contentment. And, by the way, thank you.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and newshour