To the Granddaddy at the pool

One of the privileges of my summers is getting to assist the venerable Miss Sandy with swimming lessons at Shamrock pool. Now, full disclosure, I am only a sub for when one of my kids (bonafide instructors) cannot be there.  I am merely there for crowd control and the last stop before drowning but Miss Sandy knows I love "helping" her and she good-naturedly looks waaaaaaaay down the bench and calls me in from time to time.  Betsy is the last in our  line of Chambers swim teachers.  I don't know what I'll do when she graduates from this.  Maybe Miss Sandy will still need someone to smile and cheer and adjust goggles........


Anyhow, sometimes I go with my kids even when I'm not teaching subbing in, just to watch them teach and to see all the adorable  kids and their Mommies.  Remember, Shamrock Pool is my happy place - anytime I can be there is a great day!  So, the other evening I was there to watch.  After noting to myself that, yes, my children are surely the cutest and most wonderful swim instructors ever, I moved on to observing the parents. 


That's when I saw the Granddad.


He was so stinkin proud and it showed.  I declare, I think that if there were buttons on his swim shirt, they would've popped right off.  I grinned to myself and thought that perhaps this is a bit of overkill, even for a grandparent.  I mean, seriously, this was just the Moms and Tots class - the kids were no more displaying any athletic prowess than when they get pushed in the grocery cart at Publix.  I was able to figure out which pair his adoration was directed towards and couldn't for the life of me figure out why he was so proud.  The little fella wasn't even cooperating with his mommy!!!


Then my grandmother gene surfaced.  Then I understood.


He wasn't simply proud of his grandson's ability to be dunked repeatedly by the mother - this Papa was busting his buttons over his own daughter. Applauding the little fella was more of a smokescreen for the pride over the Mommy. He wasn't there by the pool to supervise swim instruction - he was there to watch his little girl - though as grown as grown could be - do her thing.  My heart so beat with his for a moment that I thought I'd had a transplant.  I got it.  I knew just what he was feeling.  His daughter was indeed doing a good job with that wiggly little boy and he sat right by the pool's edge to admire her with delight.  There was no mistaking it for me - the cheers for that Mommy were just disguised to look like they were meant for her son.


I had to look away and take several deep drinks of my Sodapalooza Diet Dr Pepper to wash away the lump in my throat.  I knew just what he was feeling.  That part of grandparenting that nobody explained.  At least not to me, anyways.  So, if you are yet to enter this stage of blessed bliss, allow me to share a nugget or two....


First of all, you'll not be old enough to be a grandparent.  Neither was I.  Probably never will be.  So it just might take you by surprise that your own offspring - who is barely old enough to carry a lunch box and board the bus, mind you - will be in charge of keeping a human alive.  Gulp.  Scary thought indeed.


But you'll adjust to that by deciding which grandmother title doesn't age you and debate about having liposuction and eyelid lifts just so everybody else can affirm what you already know - that you're not old enough to do this.  Then you can start looking forward to another little bundle to adore....and hope against all odds that he/she will adore you right back.  You stockpile as many ideas as possible to insure that will happen, including providing junk food and never having to be the bad guy.  Yeah, this is gonna be OK!!!


Then it comes.  The flood of grandparent love. They arrive and you hold them and they look you right in the eye.  Surely they are the cutest and most clever creatures ever to inhabit Planet Earth but that doesn't explain the width and depth of the emotions you feel.


Because there's something more.


At least for me, anyways.  Seeing my own child be a Mommy - and do such a cotton-pickin spectacular job at it - overwhelms me with a tidal wave of love and pride that I'd never expected.  It's not just the grandkids...it's my kid. I will always and forever be a Mom.  And experiencing joy at who my children are is timeless.  So is wanting to help them.  To encourage and cheer.  To give them a break (even from the job they love the most!).  To notice their successes (cuz let's face it - probably nobody else will!) and to empathize with their not-quite successes.  And to share their triumphs unabashedly because a grandparent is afforded grace and patience which aren't as easily extended to just plain parents.


I wanted to pull up a beach chair beside that G-Dad and cheer with him.  I wanted him to know I understood - and agreed with - his pride. 


And then I would've shown him my pictures.  Of all my trophies.  Swim lessons ended so I didn't get the chance.  But I know he'd have to agree - I have a right to feel blessed.

Emotional whiplash

Emotional whiplash.  Or parenting schizophrenia.  Those are the terms I use to describe a condition that the medical community may not recognize but one that is quite well known to all moms.


In fact, I was having a couple of conversations with some of my fav swim team Moms and this was our topic.  One of them grinned and said "you should blog about this."


Uh, sure thing.  I can talk about the malady all day long but I have no idea how to prevent it, treat it, or cure it.  It's completely impossible, I am sure.


You're reading this smiling cause you know exactly what I'm talking about.  The ups and downs of responding to the different needs of  your kids simultaneously.  As in one just broke his personal record for the 25 freestyle race and you are celebrating with him.  Before you can unwrap yourself from that chlorine-soaked embrace, you notice one other offspring in a puddle of tears from a DQ on his butterfly stroke. Or one daughter got elected Prom Queen...hooray!!...and the other one got rejected from the college of her heart's desire.  And so you jerk yourself from your happy place to the one of consolation and empathy.  Or the other way around....just depends on which emotional need surfaces first.


Emotional whiplash. 


Sometimes the onset of parenting schizophrenia has been so acute that I forget which emotion I am supposed to be responding to and consequently administer the wrong antidote.  Sympathy instead of cheer.  Or, worse, gladness instead of condolences.  Wow, talk about the "cure" being worse than the "disease"!!


As I type this, I'm smiling.  Grinning, actually.  Just like my swim Mom friends and I did when we chatted about it.  Not smirking at the affliction, mind you.  And certainly not at the repercussions of wrongly-administered doses.  But at the privilege it is to bear this condition.  The honor of getting to be the one to diagnose the emotional needs and then to apply the appropriate salve.


My soul doesn't feel so handicapped after all.  I realize I am downright blessed.  No matter how much it may appear that I have a personality disorder!!

To the single Dads

I thought about this post all day.  And just couldn't get it to type itself.  The words wouldn't flow.  The thoughts were jumbled.  I wanted to write a tribute for Father's Day.  About my own precious Daddy and about the magnificent Daddy to my four kids.


But all I could think about were some fellas who were observing this day as a single dad.  And I knew no Mom was there to prepare them a special dessert or to see that cards were made or gifts were purchased.  And I cried and cried and cried for them.


I know men don't get all hyped up about holidays and I know they probably don't see this day the way Moms see their counterpart celebration in May.  But I hurt for them anyway.  'Specially because the fellas I have on my mind didn't choose to be single.


And then I cried for their kids.  I wondered if their hearts hurt because they realized Daddy was supposed to be celebrated today and they didn't know how to pull that off. 


It's not that I didn't have these hurts on Mother's Day when I thought about my girl friends in this same plight.  It's just that it seems to me that men don't get the same sympathy. And I'll bet they hurt and feel alone and defeated, too.


I don't have anything encouraging to offer.  No words of counsel.  I just needed to acknowledge these men somehow.  Even in such a small way, I hope they find some comfort and some courage in the fact that somebody notices.  Actually Somebody way more important than this blog.


He sees.  He cares.  He sustains.  He will not forsake.


Happy Father's Day to every single man who loves his children.  Thank you.  To all of you.

Guest post - from Mary

I asked my Mary to do a guest post for today.....

With all of the lists that flood Facebook news feeds as of late, I am shocked that I have yet to come across one titled “5 Reasons Why Your Work Ethic Matters”. If this list does exist, I am confident it is only career related. So when mom asked if I would write a guest post on her blog, I graciously decided to fill this void in the cyber world.

 

Where does my inspiration come from for this list, you may ask? Well I just graduated college (thanks mom and dad!). I think I spent my last semester listening to just about every peer of mine (ok, ok, I fell into this category sometimes, too) complaining of senioritis. Well, maybe not complaining. More like excusing whatever lazy action felt “right” on senioritis. And, it’s weird. My sister and her husband are both pharmacists and, last I checked, there is no biological cure for this obviously common disease. So I’m prescribing my own cure…cause, let’s face it, this is the closest I will ever get to becoming a scientist anyways.

 

So in my close (and purely scientific, of course) study of causes of senioritis, all of the symptoms seemed to point to our world’s focus on two major things: instant gratification and correlated success. In other words, why would anyone want to do anything that wouldn’t either make him happy in the moment or ensure a successful career down the road? Sounds bogus, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m big on incentives. God created us that way  (Matthew 6:19-20, Luke 18:22, Malachi 3:10, Romans 13:1-14). But God also called us to “work heartily as for the Lord and not for men” (Colossians 3:23)…no matter what rungs of the corporate ladder that may help you climb.

 

So this brings me to Reason #1 why our work ethic matters: obedience. Hard work is a commandment of the Lord. I don’t really hear people questioning commandments not to murder or cheat, but for some reason, this one seems to be up for debate. Need some inspiration? Don’t look up to CEO’s or politicians, “go to the ant, o sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. Without having any chief, officer, or ruler, she prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest” (Proverbs 6:6-8).

 

Reason #2 why our work ethic matters is worship. Working hard is an opportunity for us to give glory to God. One of my favorite stories is that of a man whose job was to clean out sewage tanks. Unlike other people in his industry, he would wade down into the nasty tanks himself because that was the best possible (although not necessary) way to clean the tank. When asked why he does this, he replied “because I clean tanks to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31, Ephesians 6:7, Ecclesiastes 9:10, Colossians 3:17). Need I say more?

 

Reason #3 why our work ethic matters is stewardship. Working diligently is a wise use of our days here on the earth. (2 Timothy 2:6, Proverbs 6:10-12, Genesis 2:15, Proverbs 12:11). Ephesians 5:15-17 says “Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.” One of the most foolish mistakes that I frequently make is listening to the lie that how I spend an hour here and an hour there doesn’t really matter. But did you catch that verse above? The days are evil! They will rob us of opportunities to glorify God if we are not vigilant and intentional to be wise with our time. And hard work is Biblical (another topic for another day is overworking or being too focused on your career but I’ll trust everyone’s interpretation here!). I am a big fan of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s quote: “How we spend our days is, therefore, how we spend our lives.”

 

Reason #4 why our work ethic matters is character-building. Every decision that we make plants a seed for future decisions. Did you ever glance over to someone else’s exam? Or rescind on your acceptance of a roommate or job offer when a better one came along? What about leaving the piece of trash on the floor that just barely missed the trash can when your NBA moment failed? Those decisions matter. One of the many great examples that my mom has set for my family and me is that she never fails to return the grocery cart to the cart return. That’s because she knows that each little decision plants a seed for future big decisions (Luke 16:10). I think that this reason was probably my biggest motivation for finishing my last semester strong, despite the fact that I was taking one of the hardest classes of my life (who knew International Economics and Finance wasn’t a crip course?).  I wanted to practice self-discipline and work habits that will follow me for the rest of my life.

 

And the final, and maybe most counter-intuitive Reason #5 is generosity. We should work hard so that we can give more away. This may seem to go against my initial argument that we should work no matter what the financial or other kind of rewards may be, but the fact of the matter is that hard work often does result in some sort of gain. I made this reason the last one because the first four argue for working hard no matter what the outcome, but this reason accepts the reality that many times there is a reward for hard work. This, in turn, allows us to bless others. (1 Timothy 5:8, Ephesians 4:28, Luke 12:48). I am beyond honored and excited to begin my career working for one of the most generous corporations in the country, and if Truett Cathy isn’t the picture of using his hard-earned success to give generously to others, I don’t know who is.

 

One of my favorite verses is Ecclesiastes 2:24, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil…” – did you get that?! A secret bonus reason why we should work hard is that it will produce JOY in us! Is that cool or what? I remember running cross country in high school (PSA: yes, it is torture) and being absolutely horrible at it. I only did it to prove to myself that I could do it and to finish something strong. I never won a race, but I will always remember the JOY that I felt when I would get to the last quarter mile of a race and SPRINT to the end, gaining remarkable distance between me and the shadow of the person behind me that I could see. Who knows, that shadow might’ve been a parent running after me to hurry up and finish so that they could shut down the race, but nonetheless, I felt JOY knowing that I had “run the race with endurance” (Hebrews 12).

 

So I hope, if nothing else, you will find some inspiration to keep working hard at what you do. I’m not saying senioritis is not incredibly tempting or that our every day tasks and to do lists are not going to ever feel trivial or frustrating again. But with all of the Scripture listed above, we can no longer use ignorance…or senioritis…as an excuse for not working hard.

 

 

The book of James

James, a bond-servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ,
To the twelve tribes who are dispersed abroad: Greetings
James 1:1


There is so much packed in this one little verse!  A handful of words with a truckload of meaning.  I am reading through James with some twenty-somethings this summer and here's what we unpacked from James 1:1....



James - the author of this book is the (half)brother of Jesus.  He didn't become a Christ-follower until later in his life -- possibly after the resurrection of Jesus.  But he went on to become the leader of the NT church, known for his prayer life.  Can you imagine growing up with Jesus as your older brother?  Talk about pressure of having a perfect older sib!!!


James describes himself as a bond-servant.  What is that?  Does that conflict with Jesus saying "I no longer call you servants but rather friends"?  Of course Scripture does not conflict with itself so we need to find out what a bond-servant is to understand why James uses that term.  The Old Testament explains it to us in Exodus 21:1-6.  The Law given to Moses established that slaves were to be set free after six years.  (I'm not going to debate  the Bible's stand on slavery in this post -- this is just to explain why James called himself a "bond servant").  If, however, after serving for six years, the slave freely decided that he would rather remain in the service of his master, then he would receive a piercing of his ear which distinguished him as being bonded to his master for life.  Obviously, that would have to be a remarkable master to entice him to serve rather than to be free!  In his epistle, James is making that claim -- that serving Jesus is so far preferable than being without Him, that he chooses to bond himself to his Master for life.  What a tribute to Christ...what a testimony to the world.


"To the twelve tribes" - this is a reference to the nation of Israel and specifically to those who have been spiritually adopted into the family of Abraham.  James's epistle is written to believers; it is not an appeal to the unconverted Jew.


"Who are dispersed abroad".  Some translations use the word "scattered" instead of "dispersed". When I think of the word "scattered", it brings up images of my floor of my closet or the legos in the playroom or some other disorder.  "Dispersed" is a much better term! The Greek word is "diasporo" which means "to sow as seed".  It is an agricultural term that conveys the idea of deliberate placing of seed in a chosen place so as to produce optimal results.  What a choice of words for God's people!  At the time of James's writing, they were being persecuted for following Christ. Attempting to find safety, the believers often moved from one area to another.  James is encouraging them that their locations are not by chance but rather intentional placement by God to further the progress of the Gospel as well as to achieve His transformation of them into the likeness of Christ. 


"Greetings" -  This Greek word, "chairo", is more than a simple salutation.  It conveys a desire for blessing on the recipient and carries the meaning of joy....but not any ole joy - rather joy as a result of God's grace.  What a great segue for the next section of the letter!


A handful of words.  One little verse.  Lots to chew on for the next few days. 


Does my life testify to the world that my Master is so incredibly awesome that He is worth giving up my life for?  Do I acknowledge that every single place He plants me - regardless of whether I would have chosen it myself - is a deliberate placement on His part?  One that He intends to grow me into His likeness and show the world the fruit of His labor?  And, can I embrace the life-giving truth that real joy is a result NOT of my circumstances or my desires being met or people behaving like I want them to....but rather, only because of His grace?


Thank you, dear James.  You said an awful lot in a little bit.  Thank you.