When the Pastor Gives His Daughter Away

So, I am with a friend the other day and he says, “You start a lot of your posts with the word, ’so.’”  Hmm, didn’t notice that.

So, we as a family are at a wedding Friday night, Seth Latture and Rachel Stockdale.  They have just recently started coming to our church.  He plays keyboard for one of our worship bands.  The wedding was at New Life Church in Conway, great church BTW, where they had been going for years and where her dad is one of the pastors.

There I am with my wife and two daughters and I am watching this pastor/dad walk his daughter down the aisle.  (Jim Stockdale is a great man and pastor and has the privilege of being the dad to four girls.)  Before he gives her away, the officiating pastor gives him a mic and he gives a blessing to his daughter and future son-in-law.  He talks about what a blessing his daughter has been and how he has been praying for this day, that God would bring the right man.  He then looks at Seth and commends him for the man he is and how proud he is to give his daughter away to him. 

Then he did it.  He gave her away.  He sat down and watched his daughter marry this guy.  Then right before the pronouncement, he got up and prayed for them.  Wow.  I teared up then.  Tearing up now.  As a dad of daughters and a pastor myself, I found myself walking in Jim’s shoes.  I will walk in those shoes someday.

The question is what am I doing to prepare myself and my girls so that when that day comes,  I will be as encouraged and want to give a blessing the way he did? 

What do my girls see in the way that I love them and encourage them and value them that makes them have high expectations for a man?

What do they see in the way that I treat their mom that sets the expectations for what a husband should be?

How am I pointing them towards God so that they will learn to trust him and follow him and expect that their husband will do the same?

Do I pray?

Do I go and have lunch at their school on a regular basis and intimidate boys so that they will be scared of me, and consequently my girls, and we can delay this process for as long as we can?

Well, maybe we don’t need the last one.  Regardless, that day is coming.  I will walk my girls down the aisle.  I will give them away to somebody.  Who that somebody is depends on me.

Gimme That Fish

Well, it was inevitable.  We have talked about it for a couple of weeks and it finally happened.  What you may ask?  First, let’s take a step back.

A couple of weekends ago, it was just Maylee, Lauren and I.  Heidi was on a women’s retreat.  Perhaps a step or two behind the curve, we discovered the Filet-o-fish commercial.  If it is not a pop culture phenomenon, it should be.  It is at least at our house. (If you haven’t seen it, watch it below.  It’s 30 seconds.  Without it there is a 0% chance you will understand the rest of this.  After watching the percent goes up at least to 7%)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csrPT9ClVUc

We played that no fewer than 20-25 times over the course of the weekend.  Now we find random opportunities to say things like this to each other, “You know that fish is right, I wouldn’t be laughing at all” or “Seriously, are you going to give me back that fish or not?”  We have had a blast.  Mom is reluctantly in on it.  By reluctantly, I mean, she hates it.

Well, we had been threatening for a while to go into a McDonalds and play the commercial on my IPhone, via the Youtubes.  On Sunday, we went to the Drive-thru and through what I consider magic technology, we had my phone connected to my stereo system, blaring that song. 

Before we pulled up though, we had to have a comedy lesson.  Like the one guy on the commercial, we had to act like nothing was going on, as if it were just any song playing on the radio.  It was hard for them.  Lauren had the cheesiest grin on her face, mostly looking out the window in the opposite direction.  Maylee had eyes as big as saucers holding in a laugh staring at the workers.

Well at this McD we had to go through two windows.  One to pay and one to get the food.  We got the reaction that we wanted.  Nervous stares.  The thought bubble on these people’s heads had to be, “What dorks.”  If that was the case, then SUCCESS!

After we drove through, they both just laughed and are talking about that still.  Now, here is the question, can I steer this into a reasonable parenting lesson?  Sure, why not?  I’m just that creative.  Why did I do it?  One, I like to be funny and for them to think that I’m funny.  Furthermore, I want to teach them to be the same. 

Deeper than that though, I want to build memories for them.  Small memories.  Memories of a dad that loved them and had fun with them, that wasn’t too busy or serious to enjoy life with them.  Memories of a Dad, who would sit down with them and ponder the mysteries of life, such as what would it really be like if I were up on that wall.

A Troubling Declaration

So it turns out that I don’t have enough time in a weekend to do my paying job (pastor), playing the role of mom and to do my non-paying job (blog-writer).  For some pre-thought on my role as “mom” for the weekend, check this out. 

We had a blast this weekend.  We had a sleepover upstairs.  The three of us piled up matresses, blankets, beanbags, etc.  We watched movies and fell asleep.  (I woke up at 3:30 and decided that I wasn’t really sleeping and went downstairs.)  We also played the “Gimme That Fish” McDonalds commercial on Youtube no fewer than 25 times over the weekend.  We played with friends, won two basketball games, had a great weekend of church services.  It was great.

However, there was one moment that still sticks out it my head that I just can’t shake.  Maylee and I were taking Lauren to soccer practice and as we were pulling in she asked if we were going to stay and watch.  She said in such a way that made it pretty clear that she didn’t want us to stay.  So I’m trying to get out of her why she doesn’t want us to stay.  She is embarassed because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Finally, she says this, “If I make a bad kick, I don’t want you to see it.”  I am going to confess to you that I was crushed.  (If you know her, don’t bring this up to her).  She didn’t want me to see her mess up.  She is hard on herself, very hard on herself.  I would like to think that I am an encouraging dad.  I would like to think that I am “better than most.”  I think that she is great and a great soccer player.  I try to tell her that all of the time.

However, I also correct her when she does something wrong, especially if it comes from a lack of focus or hustle.  Apparently those corrections add up in her mind, and she would rather avoid them, at least during practice.

So what does this mean?  If anything, Dads, you cannot overestimate the power of your words when you talk to your daughters (I assume the same applies for sons.  I wouldn’t know first-hand).  Everything that you say matters and she takes it in.  Everything.  Her view of herself is largely determined by your view of her.  I am now reevaluating everything I say.  I want to be incredibly encouraging.  Even when I feel I need to correct her behavior, I am thinking, “What does my facial expression look like?  What is my tone?  What encouraging comment can I tag this with?”

Maybe I am about to over-correct and be “too easy” on her.  Guess what?  I don’t care.  I could live the next 50 years of my life and I would be just fine without hearing her say that with that look on her face again.  This was a great reminder for me of something Robert Lewis says that I pass on to you, “Dad is destiny.”  What we say, they become.

So I’m Babysitting My Kids This Weekend

So, Heidi is going on a women’s retreat this weekend.  She left today (Friday) at about noon and will get back into town late in the afternoon on Sunday.  All weekend long it is just Maylee, Lauren and me.  I’m babysitting the two of them all weekend long . . .

Wait for it . . .

Gotcha.  I’m predicting a couple of things.  One, at least one mom will post an angry comment on my FB page at the post link before reading the post.  B, at least five moms screamed out loud (Go ahead and confess).

One of moms’ favorite lines to drop on an unsuspecting dad is this, “It’s not babysitting when it’s your own kids.  It’s called parenting.”  Sorry guys, I have to agree with them.  You may think that all you mean is that I am going to be with my kids, but when you say babysitting you imply that this is some task or duty that you are obligated to perform rather than a normal part of your life.

Here is the question for you: When your wife is with your kids, is it babysitting?  Here’s another:  If she has to ask you if she can be gone and can you watch the kids, do you have to do the same?  Or is it a situation where she is the default parent and you have freedom to do whatever you want?

Here is what we communicate to our wife: It is your job to watch our kids.  I am doing you a favor when I watch our kids.  However, that is a terrible perspective.  If you are doing anyone a favor, it is you.  You get the opportunity to do something that you probably don’t get enough time to do.  You get to spend focused time with your kids.  You get their undivided attention.  You get a chance to spoil them, enjoy them, let them know that you love them and that they are a top priority for you.

You also get the opportunity to show your wife how much you love her.  You get to show how much you value her time, how much you want her to be able to get away and take a mom break.  You can show her that you are completely with her as parents and that you are a team. Whether mom works outside the home or not, she deserves regular time away and just some time for herself or with her friends.  You have a great chance to show and tell her how valuable she is and give her that special time away.

Besides, it’s not babysitting, because you’re not getting paid. Well, not in money anyway.

Hard Picks, Sore Losers and Looking in a Mirror

I have written about my girls playing basketball before.  Truth be known, I would talk about it all the time, because I love it.  I love watching my girls play and I love being their coach. I am very proud of them and how hard they work.

What I noticed on Saturday was a couple of things.  First, both of my girls seem obsessed with setting hard picks, playing highly agressive defense and clawing for loose balls and rebounds.  They are not particularly concerned with scoring baskets, even though they both are good at that as well.  If they don’t score, they don’t care as long as they play good defense and set good picks that allow their teammates to score easy baskets.

Why is that?  Why at an age when every other kid focuses so much on scoring baskets would my kids be focused on other things?  The answer is simple.  I have been their coach for 3 and 6 years and they know that is what I care about.  More than that though, I have been their dad for 9 and 12 years, and what I say and what I value matters to them.  They want to reflect what is important to me and they do.

The second thing that I noticed on Saturday was immediately after a tough loss.  We had a big lead and some might say that the referees were um, nevermind.  This is Upward Basketball and you can’t say stuff like that.  So both of us, were swelling up with frustration like an overheated water heater with no pressure relief valve getting ready to blow up the whole house.  20 minutes later, walking into a restaurant, Maylee says, “I don’t think I’m going to be OK.”  “Yes, you are sweetie.” We laughed.

Why is she like that?  I’m guessing that if you are reading and not skimming, you know that is a rhetorical question.  She reflects what she sees.  My daughters being like me and reflecting my values doesn’t only apply to what I’m good at and my good quality(ies?).  You know what I’m talking about.  You say to your spouse that one of your kids is “just like you.”  Sometimes that’s a compliment and sometimes, well, not so much a compliment.

What do you reflect?  What are your values?  Your real values, not just what you say, but how you live.  What do they see?  Trust me they see it all and you will see it right back in them.

Stuff Christians Need to Stop Saying #4

Seriously, don’t go to a #4 in your franchise.  It’s just not worth the risk.  Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull???  I have to pretend like that never happened.  The Next Karate Kid???  Batman and Robin with George Clooney, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Chris O’Donnell, Uma Thurman, Alicia Silverstone, Vivica Fox, Elle MacPherson and Coolio?  Pretty sure Coolio is the only who still has that on the old resume.  Superman IV: The Quest for Peace?? Does anyone else remember that?  Superman takes all the nukes and blows them up in the sun and Lex Luthor uses that and a lock of Superman’s hair to create a supervillain.  Then the plot, no lie, gets WORSE from there.  (Did Gene Hackman owe someone money?)

My hope is in Rocky IV which I saw in Jr. High with my friends and we cheered out loud, very loudly, and often.  My apologies to anyone else who was in the theater.

Set-up:  A kid is running around the worship center/sanctuary at your church having fun.

Response:  “Don’t run in God’s house.”  “There is no running in church.”  Or my personal favorite:  “Jesus doesn’t run in your house.  Don’t run in his.”

By the time this post is over, it will have my favorite three things to blog about in the same post: parenting, stupid things Christians say, and obscure pop culture references.  Jackpot (for me anyway).

Listen, I want you to parent your kid and keep him/her under control.  If they are headed to the sound booth with their fruit punch, please stop them.  If they are about to do a somersault off the couch onto concrete, by all means stop them.  Provide the discipline that you find appropriate.

However, can we please stop communicating to our kids that church is a place where you can’t have fun and enjoy yourself?  Chairs or pews lined up in rows are designed for running around and through and under.  We are genetically wired to do that.  You did it.  Your kids do it and their kids will as well.  It is time to end the tradition of overly anxious parents and stuffy, crotchety old men stifling kids for some dubious principle of “Church is where we act dignified.”  I don’t recall Jesus saying “Let the children come to me if they come in a quiet, orderly fashion that doesn’t disturb me, with no chocolate on their face and not wearing their favorite Spiderman t-shirt.”  However, I don’t read the Message, it may say that there.

How about instead we instill in our kids that Church is a place where they can be themselves, have fun, be expressive, and learn and experience the God that loves them?  He loves them not in spite of them being wild and crazy kids, but because they are wild and crazy kids.  He wants church to be a place that they remember as being fun, where they were loved and they got the answers to life’s most important questions.  Church doesn’t need to be a place of seemingly pointless rules.  Believe me, there is enough of that already.

Besides, my guess is that if Jesus were to come to your house, he would, in fact, run around your house with your kids.

A Nervewracking Lunch at Cabot Middle School North

If you told me right now that I had to speak to a group, it would be no big deal.  If you told me that group numbered in the 1000’s, I would be OK.  I would be a little nervous, because I want my talks/sermons to go well, but large group even super large group speaking doesn’t make me nervous.  (You always hear people talking about the fear of public speaking like it is what people fear most.  For real? Over death, long-term illness?)

I bring this up because yesterday afternoon, I am walking into my older daughter’s middle school with a Zaxby’s lunch for Maylee and me.  Suddenly as I am getting to the front door, I am overwhelmed with being nervous.  “I want this to go well.”  “I want her friends to like me.”  “I don’t want to embarass her.”  “I want her to really enjoy the time.”  “I want her to want me to come back.”

Some of this pressure is unique to me.  When you (and others, at least a couple of others) think of yourself as the funny one, there is some added pressure to that.  However, all of us should feel some pressure and be a little bit nervous.  You interacting with their friends matters to them.  You not embarassing them is important to them.  You want them to be proud of you, don’t you?

It’s easy for parents, especially dads, to adopt the attitude of, “I don’t care what his/her friends think about me.  My dad embarassed me and I’m passing it on.”  However, what would it be like if we put the same amount of energy and effort into these seemingly small events (that are big to them) that we put into big (big to us) events?  What would our kids think if they saw us doing our best to make these encounters the best they could be?  They would experience and feel and know what we want them to–they are incredibly loved and incredibly valuable to us.

(BTW, she came home saying, “My friends like you.”  Victory!)

Do You Want to Have Great Kids or Raise Great Kids?

One of my all-time favorite stories in our family history didn’t happen to me and I wasn’t even there.  15 years later, despite my tendency to exaggerate stories, I have yet to tell this story as if it happened to me or I was there.  That’s remarkable for me.

Anywho, it was the summer of 1995 and Heidi and I, who had been married one year, led a group of college students on a 6 week trip to Ukraine.  We had a great time and felt a connection with the Ukranian students that we met there.  One afternoon, after we had been there a couple of weeks, Heidi was with her translator.  Her translator Anya was about 18 years old.  They were walking together and Heidi said, “I want to learn Russian.”  Without missing a beat, Anya said, “No you don’t.”  Heidi argued with her.  Then Anya said, “You don’t want to learn Russian.  You want to speak Russian.”

What a statement.  Heidi and I use that when talking to people all the time.  So often what we want is the result but we are unwilling to do the work.  We don’t want to lose weight, we want to be thin.   This most recently came up in my mind as I was dealing with one of my girls.  One of them had a friend over and her dad pulled into the driveway.  As I tried to call my daughter and her friend, they ignored me, again and again and again . . .  You’ve been there right?

I’m trying to be cool.  I don’t want to embarass her in front of her friend.  On attempt number 6, she finally comes out loaded with mediocre excuses as to why she didn’t come and couldn’t even acknowledge me.  I held off for the 60 seconds or so until her friend was gone.  Then I gave the talk about respect (again) and how we act the same with our friends here as when they are not (again) and about making excuses instead of apologizing (again).  (Anyone ever tempted to record the speeches and play them back while they sleep so maybe it will soak in subliminally?)

After putting her to bed, I walked away thinking (again) how hard this is.  How constant this is.  There are no breaks from parenting.  You always have to be attentive.  You are constantly shaping behavior, molding a heart, encouraging, rebuking, consoling.  It can be emotionally exhausting sometimes.

I want to have great kids.  I want them to be awesome young ladies that go into the world and become incredible women.  However, if I want to have great kids, that means I have to raise great kids. There’s not even a Rosetta Stone shortcut.

Ice Days, Cancelling Basketball and Gender Stereotypes

So here we sit as a family on what people call a snow day.  However, considering that there is minimal snow on the ground, we will call it an ice day.  We got an automated call at 5:30 this morning that school was cancelled (nice system, keeps me from feeling the need to check every hour in the middle of the night.  OCD anyone?).  Then, much later, after I got up, I saw an email that the girls’ basketball games had been cancelled for tomorrow.   (Even though I am a native Arkansan, I do not understand the cancelling due to weather the day before.  But that is a matter for another day.)

Really, what I am concerned about today is that the games were cancelled, regardless of the fact that it is likely the right call.  I want to play.  I love watching them play basketball.  They have an unbelievable intensity on the court.  If someone touches a loose ball or, heaven forbid, attempt to take the ball from them, they both get this look on their face that says, “how dare you.” Then like a wild animal they will, in fact, get the ball back.  Even Maylee, my girly girl princess, (actually especially Maylee), has this switch inside her that transforms her from the diva strutting during the introductions, to a destructive basketball force that gets every rebound, allows the girl she is guarding to score no points and sets picks that would make a grown man cry.

As always, this is the point where you, the reader (noun intentionally singular), says “what is the point?”  I dunno, to brag on the girls? To make you want to come to one of their games?  Stereotypes of genders are real.  Sometimes we may not like or appreciate them, but some of them are real.  However, in this house we do not let those things define us.  My girls may be emotional, they may love pink, and they may even both hate math.  On the other hand they play basketball with aggression and passion and intensity.  In the same way, your boys may run with the energy of a perpetual motion machine, throw every toy they have, and make guns out of Twizzlers.  Let them cry, let them express emotion.  Let them be balanced men. 

Maybe in 30 years, I will let one of them date one of my daughters.

How do you discipline a crying girl?

A quick note before we start, I will use my blog and other public forums to praise my girls not call them out, so if there is any parenting post/story that involves something bad happening, it will be vague, nameless and thus perhaps a little confusing.

Anywho, we have recently had to take something of value away from one of our daughters.  She has been having some self-control issues, bursts of frustration and lashing out against her sister (people who know us–stop trying to figure out who is who).  We told her that she needs to build up a track record of not doing that over a few days and her valuable possession will be returned.  For the next 3 days, we have had at least one outburst. 

After last night’s outburst, she almost immediately starts crying and beating herself up.  “I am so stupid.”  How do you keep going at that point?  Don’t you have to give in?  Well, I will tell you what I did.  I sat down with her on the couch and told her how much I loved her.  I told her that it was my responsibility to help her.  What I want for her more than anything is for her to win. 

“I am on your team.  I love you.  If I let you do anything with no consequences, what would happen?” 

“I wouldn’t get better, Dad.” 

“I am not punishing you.  I just want to help you.”

You want to guess what happened next?  That’s right, she started crying again.  I hugged her, tucked her in bed and told her good night.

Everything in my heart said, “Just give it back, you mean old bear.”  However, I didn’t and it hurt me.  You see, I am compelled by God and driven by my love for both my girls.  I want them to become beautiful young ladies, inside and about.  Sometimes that means I do things that make her (and me) cry, not to hurt her but to help her, not simply to punish, but to love.

How do you discipline a crying girl?  I’m not exactly sure, but it hurts.

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