It is always a challenge for Kathy and me to live out our faith in front of our children. While others might be fooled by a veneer of spirituality, our children see us at our least pious moments. This year, in an attempt to model the virtues of ministry and service, we volunteered to work as leaders in our church’s AWANA program. As it happened, Joshua and Daniel were already serving in AWANA, and Rachel had done so in years past. David and Sarah are participants in the program. We’ve been looking for opportunities to minister together as a family – this seemed tailor-made to lend our support and endorse it by our presence.

Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed … but maybe some of ‘em aren’t fully Approved, yet?

We’re about half-way through the year, and it has not been easy. While many kids enter into the program whole-heartedly, some are interested only in the games, and endure ‘Verse Time’ and ‘Council Time’ with ill-concealed boredom. And yet, there are moments of tenderness and glory when the gospel message connects with the hearts of the children, some of whose lives are being transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Being an AWANA leader can be pretty challenging.

During ‘Verse Time’ the kids are supposed to recite verses that they’ve memorized during the week, progressing through numbered sections in their workbooks. It is hard for the kids (and, if they’re anything like us, their parents) to remember to work on their books during the week, and so ‘Verse Time’ is sometimes less productive than we would like. In an attempt to motivate the kids, our fearless AWANA commander offered the kids a deal:

“If you finish a book (8 ‘Discoveries’, or chapters of 7 sections each),” he told them, “you will get an opportunity to throw a whipped-cream pie in the face of one of the leaders.”

Thank goodness there were only two cans of whipped cream available.

This deal was received with glee on the part of the kids, but I wasn’t worried. While several of the boys in my group are making good progress in their workbooks, I’ve been subtly suggesting to the boys in my group that Tom, my co-leader, would make a better target for a pie. “After all,” I reminded them, “he sometimes wears a beard, which would be much harder to clean after a good pie-ing.”

Little did I know, that one of my ‘friends’ at our church was hatching a plot against me, using his own children as instruments of evil.

Many people think that this man (we’ll call him Jekyll, after Robert Louis Stevenson’s story) is godly, upright, and worthy of honor. After all, he serves as an elder in our church, leads a small group Bible study, and also holds the position of Treasurer. His children are sweet and well-behaved (or so I always thought), and his wife is a kind and gentle saint. He often teaches classes and serves communion, and is one of the few men in our church who wears a tie.

Not my actual ‘friend’.

Of course, I’ve had the advantage of seeing him operate behind closed doors. A person with my unique insight could suggest that he is a tight-fisted skinflint; a man who snatches cookies out of the mouths of widows and orphans, a man who must be opposed on nearly every major policy decision of the church. In many ways, he might be better likened to the brutal Mr. Hyde.

I barely had time to close my eyes …

I felt a tingling of impending doom, when little Zachary was asked, “Who do you choose as your target, for a pie in the face?”

“I want Mr. Tim,” the six-year-old boldly asserted.

I was stunned. Zachary isn’t even in my group (I am a leader for older boys). I had assumed that he would pick one of his own leaders, or, perhaps the AWANA commander himself. What could possibly motivate him to seek me out for this vicious attack?

The truth was soon revealed: “My Dad will pay him $5 to get you with a pie,” his sister (Angie) confided, hopping up and down in glee.

I remembered a recent debate among the church elders, in which Dr. Jekyll was narrowly defeated. He wanted to install parking meters in the church’s lot, and to drive around in a little cart between services, ticketing those who overstayed their time.

“Those people are wasting valuable parking spaces, chatting it up in the lobby! We’ve got to move ‘em in and move ‘em out!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the table, veins popping out on his flushed face.

Personally, I rather think he wanted to see the sad faces of the children as he towed their parents’ cars away. As I often do, I opposed him in this vile scheme, and now I discovered I was not immune from the consequences of that action.

Dr. Jekyll had put a lot of work into the Powerpoint presentation for the elder board … obviously not a man to thwart lightly.

Little Zachary soon revealed the influence of his father’s character, as I reluctantly filled the pie-pan with whipped cream.

“More whipped cream,” he told me, stone-faced, eyes glittering in unholy anticipation.

My pleas for mercy were ruthlessly ignored as he pressed the pie firmly into my face. Just as his father would twist a knife in my back, Zachary rotated the pie with his wrist to ensure that the cream would go up my nose and into my eyes. After what seemed like hours, he finally released the pie pan so I could gasp for breath.

Maybe I should have taken out my contact lenses … ?

In many ways, this simply underscores the need for an AWANA program in our church. We must always be vigilant against the influence of the world. Venality and corruption among the children of leaders is of particular concern.

Little Zachary (aka “The Tim Slayer”) doesn’t even look sorry …

I fired off an e-mail to my so-called ‘friend’, the next day.

“So, when is the next time you’ll be teaching Sunday School for second, third, seventh, eighth or tenth-graders?” I asked him, innocently.

Coincidentally, those are the ages of my children, who have already expressed their willingness to be bribed, some of them offering two-for-one specials.

Revenge, as they say, is a dessert best served cold.

Tim

I had Labor Day off from work, and so I took the children away on a day-trip so that Kathy could enjoy a badly-needed Teacher Work Day. We hadn’t yet formally started school, and Kathy had been struggling to put together schedules and lesson plans for all five.

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

Seriously, I’m wondering if we’ll have gray clouds for the whole month week. The younger kids and I went to the Space Needle yesterday. It rained the entire drive to Seattle, but then the sun burst forth while we were on the observatory deck of the Space Needle. There is something so delicious about standing in the sunshine! By the time we returned home it was gray and cloudy again. At least we’re consistent.

An awesome birthday gift from Daniel’s favorite cousin.

No, I didn’t take any pictures. Sigh. Completely forgot my camera. I did remember coffee and snacks for the kids, so you can obviously see where my priorities lie these days. Ha!

An ice cream pie creation by Tim and Daniel for the birthday party.

I think I need some fresh inspiration in my photography. Any ideas? Perhaps a class. I wonder if I could fit that into our crazy schedule. Oh, did I mention that Daniel has recently joined Rachel and Joshua in being a member of the YMCA swim team? Lots of swimming going on in our family. Never a dull moment!

Despite our clouds and cool weather, the garden has begun. We’ll have tomatoes and lettuce this summer!!

Kathy

As a father of five children, I frequently draw upon my military experience to make sure everyone behaves properly and is ’squared away’. It is not uncommon for me to bark out orders to various children, or to quell any dissension ‘in the ranks’ with a raised eyebrow that my Basic Training drill sergeant would be proud of. I love my children dearly, and am often playful and silly with them, but I expect to be obeyed quickly and completely, as long as they are under my authority. This gets tricky as they begin to pass out of my authority, but that is a subject for another day.

As the scripture indicates, a mature believer “… must manage his own family well and see that his children obey him with proper respect.” (1 Timothy 3:4). I don’t think this passage refers only to elders, but for any Dad who desires to be a honored vessel in God’s household. Seeking to pattern myself after that standard, I like to have the things in my life under control, all nailed down and figured out.

Even little Sarah likes to keep all her plastic bears in line, properly color-coded.

Last week I was driving home from church, and I looked in the rear-view mirror of my car. I noticed a lonely, half-bowl of dry Peanut Butter Crunch ™ cereal, neglected by my youngest daughter between the car seats. Breakfasts on Sunday mornings are often taken on-the-fly — Kathy must’ve been driving more quickly than usual, and so Sarah’s breakfast was cut tragically short. I had an idea.

David often has good ideas.

“What luck!” I chortled. “Her loss is my gain,” I exulted. Boxes of Peanut Butter Crunch don’t last long in our household, even when it seems I buy them by the gross. I reached back between the seats and grabbed the bowl with my right hand, carefully maintaining my grip on the steering wheel with my left hand.

Suppose you were riding with me in the car, and you were the kind of annoying person who liked to place bets on everything. “I’ll bet a dollar that you can’t get that cereal without spilling it,” you might sneer. I would have offered ten-to-one, or maybe even fifty-to-one odds that I could successfully grab that bowl of Peanut Butter goodness, and bring it safely to my lap without spilling a single one. After all, I have a pretty steady hand, and am a skilled driver; there is no reason I would lose control over such a simple physical operation. Besides, I’m awfully fond of Peanut Butter Crunch.

David and Sarah are awfully fond of a good story.

As I brought the bowl over the passenger seat, the right front wheel of the car struck a small bump in the road, and what seemed like a family-sized box of cereal leapt out of the bowl and into the air. Pandemonium ensued, as two competing objectives fought for supremacy in my body:

• (a) the laudable objective of keeping the car on the road, or
• (b) the understandable effort to catch every piece of Peanut Butter Crunch before they rolled away into oblivion

Later, after the car was pulled from the ditch, I thought about this life-lesson: I am not in control of my life.

Hopefully, Sarah won’t hold a grudge about her lost Crunch cereal.

The car didn’t really end in the ditch, I’m just teasing about that. But it made me think about the many factors in my life that I work so hard to control, and which are really not controlled by me at all. My health, my job, my family, my relationships with people at church, even my relationsip with God — all of these things are outside my complete control. I may be able to influence them, but the sovereignty of God is supreme. I can trust and pray, and do my best to obey my King, but He decides when the bowl moves smoothly to the front seat, and when a crunchstorm fills the car.

Not my actual box of Captain Crunch.

Tim

One of the huge blessings in this life that God has given me is a job that challenges my mind, and pays enough for our family to live comfortably. Because my work involves connecting remotely to servers I will never see, it doesn’t really matter where I do my work; for this reason, I am permitted to work from home quite often.

When I was employed by another company, doing a similar job, I used to work four days a week from home, only going ‘into the city’ once a week. If something prevented me from doing this, it might be a couple of weeks between visits to my office. Over time, this caused me to avoid projects on which I would need to collaborate with other employees, and ultimately that practice reduced my value to the company. In the Fall of 2002, I was laid off, and did not find regular work for another seventeen months.

When it began to be possible to work from home in this job, I was determined to be more careful. I make sure to go in to the office whenever there is any meeting that requires my attendance, and I almost never work more than three days a week from home.

Not my actual office ‘in the city’.

I work in a team of four, and we mostly each have our own responsibilities, few of which overlap. Still, the days I’m in the office are often festive – we congregate in the corridor for impromptu team meetings, and there is much banter and wit exchanged. We play jokes on each other, and laugh together about the latest corporate buzz-words and propaganda. Upper-level managers, visiting our corner on days when we’re in full swing, often walk away shaking their heads in bemusement.

Today was a particularly good day, even though it started out quite badly. I woke before my alarm (a fate nearly worse than death) with an allergy attack, and spent the extra time paying bills. I packed my own lunch, and it wasn’t as generous as Kathy usually provides (I often eat all three meals away from home on my commute days). I forgot my allergy meds at home, and rushed back to get them, nearly missing my train.

Not my actual commuter train, but very close.

Arriving at work, I fretted about the size my lunch. “Will it be enough to forestall the mid-afternoon munchies?” I wondered. “I don’t think so,” I answered myself gloomily. I’m not a major source of encouragement in my life.

Several weeks ago, I scraped the last morsels from my secret jar of Nutella (the one that I kept discreetly stashed in my desk drawer) and the last of the Christmas chocolates was long ago devoured. A sad feeling welled up briefly as I sat, contemplating an afternoon barren of chocolate. I pondered the burning question of the ages: “Is life worth living without Nutella?”

Setting my face like Play-doh ™ against such maunderings, I turned to my work. It wasn’t until lunchtime, when I needed some salt for my lunch, that I opened my desk drawer.

There, gleaming in the sickly fluorescent lights, was a brand-new, un-opened jar of Nutella! The rich auburn brown of my favorite hazelnut spread was clearly visible through the translucent jar, all the way to the top. I grabbed for it, afraid it might be a holographic trick, but its solid heft reassured my tight grasp … it was real!

“A jar of Nutella, in my desk drawer,” I exulted, loudly enough to bring my co-workers out of their cubes. “Which of you did this wonderful thing?”

Not my actual Nutella jar.

Guilty looks abounded, but my benefactor chose to remain anonymous. “Maybe Eric brought it up,” hypothesized one co-worker, innocently. (Eric, when he chooses to reward us, usually brings donuts, and never secretly.)

There was only one thing to do, truly the only thing that can be done with a new jar of Nutella: I broached the foil seal and dove in with a spoon.

Even now, riding home on the train, the unexpected gift brings a smile to my face. It is true that I prefer to work from home on the days that I can, enjoying my family and a very short commute, but working in the city has its charm: my faithful Nutella jar, waiting patiently in that desk drawer.

Tim