What was your name again?

Oh, yes…it’s a fair question. Considering how long it’s been since I’ve written a blog post paragraph sentence about homeschooling in this blog, it would be safe to assume the title is simply an unfortunate attempt of former street wise cat to create a more family friendly persona.  ”Big Daddy? No, its Homeschooldaddy now. I’ve settled down, dude!”

Um, no. I do still homeschool, and it is still a main catalyst for the lifestyle I lead. Despite all the life changes and career changes that have occured in 2009, the one constant has been my waking moments filled with the blessing and burden of managing (no longer can I truthfully say leading) my children’s education. Now in 6th and 7th grade, both my son and daughter have become very independent learners. Not that they weren’t already self starters, but as their interests have expanded, there has been less and less of a need for me to be constantly ‘on top’ of them to require certain assignments, save the curriculum guided language arts and math work that requires sequential testing. They both have entered Virtual School, which here in Florida is a free service provided for any Florida resident that wants to sign up. It’s a magnificent program with monthly phone calls and excellent instructors, and perhaps I’ve been a little worried that they were taking my place as the primary educators in the subjects they teach my kids. Then I realized, that’s the point. They can handle any type of instructor because they are taking ownership of their learning, which was always my goal – not that they look to me as some shaman of knowledge, but that they truly desire excellence because it is available to them.

They also were able to sign up for new classes in P.E., which was a boon for my sports addicted son, and not entirely rejected by my sweat adverse daughter,  and they continued enrichment classes in Chess, Dance, Writing, Ceramics, and several other courses. I continue to be amazed at the variety of classes available to homeschoolers. It is truly an example of what a community of like minded citizens can create with little (read NO) help from the government.  If you want to see a village raising not just one child, but a generation of children, check out my park group at 1:30 on Tuesdays.

2009 did bring educational challenges, however. I found that my daughter was still lagging in the traditional sense in math, which improved greatly with our switch to Saxon.  I was faced with the mounting pressure to keep up with several new classes and subjects that I didn’t feel I prepared for adequately. The kids had to stay home alone more frequently than I would like. And finally there was the very real possibility that financial pressures would end our homeschooling experiment altogether. That and my new work schedule required a hard look at the choices we were making and moved us more into a standard schooling structure than I usually would feel comfortable with.  I can say with assurance now that we did make the transition OK, and if at some point the kids have to return to public school I can feel more at ease.  In all, it is a testament to the whole ideal of homeschooling that we were able to continue my children’s path to a full and robust life of learning despite the obstacles. At the heart of it, it is still the emphasis on family that makes us strong, makes us flexible, and able to recreate ourselves and guide our children down different paths. Those same twists and turns will happen in their adult lives, and our educational decisions can only help them see how many different paths can still lead to the same goal. That’s all a homeschooldaddy could hope for at this juncture.

I’ll have much more about our 2010 goals when I think of them. Which is not going to be now.

Until then, looking unto the hills,

HsD

Greater Than

I’m sure you remember this concept from your pre-algegra class…if you haven’t tried to forget. It usually was some type of comparison of equations:  9(3) > 3+9

I was always taught to think of it as the alligator mouth in the numerical sentence that always ate the bigger side.

In this case, mathematics proved to have an application outside of comparing amounts. I’ve seen the symbol used in other written expressions, especially in Facebook and Twitter, to compare concepts and ideas;  i.e.,  honesty > deceit.

The following  list was a series of tweets that I posted when I was considering comparisons of things I feel we often have to choose between – determining which is the weighter, more important principle to follow. We are faced with many other choices than these on a daily basis, but I felt the list was comprehensive enough to provoke others to consider what in their lives is “greater than.”

Here is my list…

Those that care about you > Those that care about what you do

Another chance > Another mistake

The pain of withdrawing my heart from others > The safety of protecting my emotions

How much I appreciate what I have > How much I desire what I don’t

Emotional upheaval through trial > Emotional emptiness through avoidance

Irrational hope in the future > Rational assumptions of the past

Looking within to redefine yourself > Looking to others to validate yourself

Facing one’s insecurities > Remaining in a comfort zone of fear

Honest communication with some disagreements > Platitudes that ignore the real issue

Real people that sometimes feel flawed > Fake people that think they have no flaws

And of course the final and ultimate comparison-

He that is in me > he that is in the world.

May you always choose the “greater than” in your decisions, whether in parenting, in your career, or in your faith.

HsD

That Dad

I’ve realized most of the fathering decisions I’ve made recently are done with the purpose of not becoming “that dad”.  You know, the one that everyone can point out at the drop of a hat for actions that make him, well, “that dad”. Let me provide some examples:

I don’t want to be..

That Dad that picks his kids up late claiming that work held him up.

That Dad that loses his temper over small things and ends up having to apologize to a child that still thinks adults are perfect.

That Dad that always needs a break from the kids at the same time his wife does.

That Dad that doesn’t recognize when his daughter is determining her future husband choice by watching his every move.

That Dad that thinks providing for his wife’s physical needs exempts him from providing for her emotional and spiritual needs.

That Dad that lets his emotions go when they should be held, and holds them when they should be let go.

That Dad that spends on everything except what his wife finds necessary to keep the house running smoothly.

That Dad that’s too controlling.

That Dad that’s not involved enough.

That Dad that is so sure he’s not “That Dad”, that he doesn’t realize that he is.

I’ve been That Dad a few times more than I want to admit. But the more I realize that I don’t want to be him, the more confident that I’ll recognize when I’m becoming him, and instead be the kind of Dad my wife and kids can depend on.

Looking unto the hills,

HsD

Dedication

(NOTE: I realize this post is quite a departure from the norm, but I trust you’ll forgive the lack of continuity. There will be more informational posts in the future. For now, allow me to dedicate the following to a special reader.)

In Praise

My flower folds its lovely petals downward, but the sun still shines on it, unable to

Resist its beauty.

A stem gracefully extended, with full, rounded leaves that sway

Undulating with the breeze, firmly rooted but flexible enough not

To break in the windstorm.

Bees hover, nectar worshipping, buzzing annoyingly with anticipation, but her inner sanctum remains

Painfully out of reach, their long insectile tongues lapping at air

For her petals fold downward, and the light delicate wisps of her petals

Brush the unforgiving thorns underneath, and the scars on the underside toughen

And guard while they injure, like swords with no handles.

I refrain from reaching out to grasp it, desiring a longer gaze, or rather, an imprint of

That flower, pressed into my memory in eternity, or as long as that lasts,

Yet it bends with the breeze – or is my lovely tree enticing the breeze – darts and dangles

Belies its own beauty by embracing the turbulent air that buffets and

Bows it to the ground in unwelcome worship of the wind.

In moments of cessation, it peaks upward, and the sun rejoices, for what is a sunray without a place to lay its photons to rest on a place of soft solitude and safe harbor

A lovely bed of countenance that angels envy

For they cannot collect nor hold the particular particles that flow through their protective visage and

Land on their preferred place of refuge.

I behold longer. I sit, and wait for the petals to open in acceptance

For the full and graceful leaves to envelop the photonic embrace that is seeking them.

For my flower is what it is, and cannot be what is isn’t, even before it knows it is

the loveliest in the garden, as the sun, and I, wait patiently

for her petals to spring forth in upward gaze, triumphant not in victory, but in loss,

loss of all that was not needed, all that was gained from careless pruning and withering words from incompetent gardeners

For losing is winning when what is lost was not yours

And I smile at my flower, and she smiles back

Photons dancing on rivers of joy and peace

A breeze gently caresses in a sigh of relief

And we sway together in the wandering wind,

A lovely, longing, wandering wind.

We sway, beautiful flower and I,

In a wandering, wonderful wind.

Another Look

“That’s the problem. When you say you’re looking, you’re just looking.” – Naomi Paul, 11

The seasons have changed, at least on the calendar, from the heat of summer to the relative cool of fall. I speak of course of the traditional understanding of autumn- there is no such dependable moderation of the temperature here in Miami. In fact, the days are hotter than they’ve ever been. The season has also changed for me and my family, and while the effects have been similarly unpredictable, I’m confident in stating that we wouldn’t turn the calendar back even if we could.

In all, I must say we’ve enjoyed a favorable time. We’ve had two cars break down, bought another we really, really needed, and managed to get our kids started on another family learning year. Our marriage has endured the stress of my job change and our season of transition in general. Musically I’ve been able to reintroduce myself to the jazz scene, and my teaching studio has grown by several students. Of course, finances remain an obstacle, and we have more big decisions to make. My challenge is to maintain the proper perspective.

My daughter’s quote above was in response to her older brother’s search for something in the kitchen which, of course, was right in front of him. I found her statement at once obvious and profound. So many time we are looking for something in life, but that is all we are doing – using our sight, and not our insight. We’re just looking, thinking what we need will just appear, instead of realizing what we need is often right in front of us. By not letting distractions lead us to simply looking at the surroundings, we can see what is possible rather than just what is visible.

Our distractions of financial hardship, of upcoming educational and career options, of trying to see what lies ahead…searching for answers by constantly reviewing the issues is simply looking to look – like window shopping for worries. We know those obstacles are there, and using valuable time to simply glance and gloss over the problems do us no good. Rather, we are trying to see what we already have – a heavenly purpose, a foundation of faith, a loving home – not necessarily just a place to live, but a connection of loved ones, in one place, a fabric interwoven with the threads of memory, laughter and life – and our understanding that what is within us is greater than anything outside of us. We don’t have to see what’s ahead of us. We have to activate what – or more accurately, Who – is within us. Then and only then we can know we’re moving in the right direction, and we’ll find what we’re seeking.

HsD

The Return

How can I put the biggest change of my life thus far, and 2 months of that transition, into one post? No way exists.

I can simply retrace my steps one moment, one memory at a time. I do believe the maxim that one cannot simultaneously live life and record it is appropriate here. To step out of the moment to become ones own historian seems to be the necessary shift required to successfully look back and reflect. It is a shift I have had very little motivation to make, as may be obvious.

So rather than spend endless words and phrases in a vain attempt to recount the last two weeks, let’s instead enter the realm of the present. And the present finds me in an emotional state. At this moment of writing I have awoken from a vivid and disturbing dream. Some might say that dreams are simply a collection of random thoughts and mental images that the brain pieces together while doing its nightly restoration process. Perhaps they can lead to imaginative feats and insights into great mysteries. At least that what the Science Channel told my children and I today. It was not mentioned, however, how dreams can impact the emotion and the soul. That’s what happened when I struggled to awake from this nightmare, or a ‘bad dream’.

Without being graphic as to upset or belittle anyone that has ever truly gone through what I merely dreamed about, suffice it to say that in this dream I lost something more precious than anything to me. I realized the character was fictional, but the emotional impact was as if it was as real as the touch of the keys below my fingers right now.  And anything I could write about – the struggles, the financial stress, the family and relational issues, the questions and concerns of the day – melted in that moment of utter imaginary devastation. It was as if I was sent a shock test – an uninvited moment of clarity that focused my mind on what means the most, at the immediate exclusion of everything else that doesn’t.

And so, I had to pray. I had to realize that He who is responsibile for existence is responsible for all that maintains existence, and place it in His hands freshly again, like the first bud of a plant whose seed has just burst from the soil – tender, fragile, but very much there.  The thought crossed my mind in this time of hand wringing over financial and political issues that those who may be looking for a safe haven of peace, may be turning to Christianity simply out of the process of elimination. As for me, I can find no greater solace than the One who demands all of me is also the one that gave all for me. And without that assurance, that there is a God, a Father that willingly accepted the loss of his only child, I could not face the prospect of raising my own children with the full knowledge that their well-being is beyond my physical ability to control.  Their safety and protection requires bigger hands.

If I maintain a better writing schedule, I’d be happy. I do hope that my dream experience is not the only factor motivating my return to writing. If so, would you join me in praying for more dreams of love, light, and laughter – dreams we can experience with our eyes wide open and our conscious minds alert and receiving. Dreams that we can see smiling, dancing before us in the forms of our families, friends, and loved ones. They are the ones that matter. And like dreams, they can be gone in a fleeting blink, before we have shook ourselves free from the slumber of misplaced priorities and mismanaged affections. There is precious little of today’s news and our daily work that will matter in the scheme of eternity. To love and cherish those we are with now is not one of those things that will not be carried into a deeper, longer lasting moment.

And with that, enjoy this day. Your dreams are waiting.

acp

The Change

The biggest change of my life is about 20 hours away from being complete.

In that timespan, I will go from what I have been, the minister of music of my church for the past 9 years, and musician for the last 15, and transition into being simply a citizen of the Kingdom, a member of a church but not an active employee.

To begin to write about this was a microcosm of the struggle I have gone through spiritually for the last year. For me to chronicle the decision making process would have been difficult, to say the least, given the readers of this blog and their intimate knowledge of those involved in my employment. But as I have made my private plans public, I’ve been freed to express in more expressive terms just what has happened in the past month.

To avoid a lengthy background, suffice it to say my wife and I have been discussing the possibilities of moving for years. We have always attempted to see ourselves in new situations and have plans to move our family into a more ideal situation socially, educationally, and financially. However, the past year’s economic morass encircled our family as well, and we saw no way of making that happen in the near future.

In the meantime, the Lord had been whispering in my ear that my tranisiton may not happen with the perfect resolution I was seeking – a music ministry with several back up musicians already hired, a new ministry job in a new location that was homeschool-friendly and economically viable for us to move to.  However,  God’s whispers are like thunderclaps in a glass jar. And those whispers began to reverberate in my spirit, and none of them allowed me room to wiggle out of the fact that God was not going to reveal any additional steps until I showed Him I could trust Him even when my previous source – my church ministry and employment – was not there anymore.  So I wrestled until the confirmations were too obvious to ignore, and I finally let my Pastor know that I could not continue to ignore what the Lord was saying to me.

So I’ve stepped away from the church family I’ve known for 15 years. I’ve given up playing each Sunday with some of the best musicians in the country, and forfeited the chance to continue hearing weekly from some of the best biblical preaching in the world. Why would anyone give up such things?

There is only one answer. It’s not given up if it’s given to. Given to God, that is. Nothing given to God is lost, because He had it all along.

So all belongs to Him, and I’ll trust Him to take care of his children. I’m so glad I was able to hear Him even when it didn’t make sense. A faith that does not call for the stretching beyond the line of simple solutions is no faith at all. This journey, this new season, is just beginning. And I can’t wait to see what’s next.

In Him,

Allen

The Plant, The Purpose, and the Pot

I saw my daughter’s plant starting to wilt this morning.

When we bought the little plant, it was in a peat pot, and that peat pot was in a plastic container. Gardeners know that we normally would have taken the plant out of the plastic pot, dug a hole, and then placed the plant in a garden or something similar outside. However, having bought the plant just for a short science experiment with soil, we never moved the plant outside. My daughter was content to water the plant and stick it close to the window sill, where the sun would shine on it every morning, and she looked forward to lovingly caring for it every day.

The plant grew pretty well for a while. It had lovely little purple blooms, and soon was overflowing the pot. However, we still never took the time to replant it or prepare the outside ground for it. So it remained on the window sill.

Now despite the leaves growing over the side, I can see the yellow streaks on the leaves, the drooping of the blooms, and the lack of firmness in the stems. It seems even with the best of care, the plant has lost its desire to be all it was capable of being.

It is obvious that without intervention, the plant will die. Not because she’s not watering it, or because it’s not receiving adequate sunlight. It’s because its purpose is beyond the pot. No amount of loving tender care will change the fact that it was never designed to stay in the little container it started in. And by trying to force it to stay in the pot, we are only dooming the plant to a short flourish, followed by a long, desperate and dreary decline into death.

I won’t insult your intelligence by insinuating that you, the reader, are the plant. Suffice it to say, that some pots are self made. We make our own plastic pots, take great care of the plant, place the plant where we think it will be secure and safe, and think the plant will be happy. But nothing that is designed to be free can last under the boundaries of the pot. The plan for the plant must come to pass, if the plant is to ever make any progress.

I would love to say we are preparing a place outside for the plant. That is not the case. This particular plant has to deal with my daughter. But in my own life, I’ve learned the secret. The smell of rain is drawing me. I’m digging up places that once seemed like they should remain untouched, and I’m preparing to move from the pot to the garden. No longer will I be safe, but wilting and wasting away on the window sill, being cared for but not being consumed with my true purpose. While there may be weeds, storms, and other prettier plants in the garden, at least I’ll be where I’m purposed to be. And that is all I could ever ask for.

Daddy’s Not So Little-Little Girl

The moment that changed everything for me, as shocking as it was, did not come without warning.
Ever since my daughter came into the world, it seemed she was in a hurry to grow up. Following on the heels of her brother, only 18 months behind chronologically, she proceeded to make up the ground in vocal development, walking, and potty training- achieving these milestones comparatively early. Not only did she keep up and catch up mentally, but physically she soon shot up to the point that she was easily the tallest girl in any group where her age was the average. The poor thing even had to convince a skeptical cashier at our local pizza buffet that she was young enough to qualify for the kids meal. I’ve had to stare down hormone laden 14 year old boys that mistake my daughter for a teenage dating prospect rather than a ten year old

Naomi at Johnny Appleseed Day, Oct 2008

that still maintains her Hello Kitty shrine in the corner of her room.

I’ve watched from afar as my wife gently prepared her for the challenges of entering puberty from the female perspective. My role had always been to be the example of how a man ought to treat her-opening doors, complimenting her, everything that I would demand of any potential suitor. Of course I left the nitty gritty details to my wife, just as I was responsible for “the talk” with my now thoroughly maturing oldest son, and my prepubescent but soon to be teenaged twelve year old. But my distance from the discussion was not only simply a matter of gender roles. It was a protective shell that prevented me from having to acknowledge the all too persistent, obvious fact that my little girl will not be a little girl much longer.

Naomi had been complaining of stomach pains for the last couple of days, but even as my wife began preparing for what she was confident was on the way, I hesitated at her diagnosis. It was less the squeamish male reaction to the ‘way of women’ and more that protective shell going up. Finally, right after dropping off the kids at tutoring at the church, and settling into my office, my wife called my office phone and told me, somewhat breathlessly, “It happened”.  My long silence was not because I needed an explanation. It was the sinking feeling, almost a funeral kind of loss I felt within me. Call it silly, or overreaction, but I just felt like an era of innocence had past, and that for now on I would never have that free feeling of just raising my pigtailed princess as if she’d never leave the nest.

I’m not sure how other dads deal with their daughters becoming women.  All I know is the thought of my girl being able – prayerfully years decades from now – to have children of her own makes me feel like I’ve entered an area totally unfamiliar to me. Of course, I’ll give her the eskimo kisses, the hugs, tuck her in at night, enjoy every moment of her still precious childhood.  But that wisp of sadness she might detect when I look at her is the evidence that I know she’s only mine for a little while longer. Lord help me make the most of it.

Looking unto the hills,

HsD

Value of Values #2 – Selflessness

Author’s Note: In the interest of saving time, I will refrain from the profuse apologies about my long hiatus between posts. I trust those that know me need no explanation, and those that do not have no reason to desire one.

Here on this Silent Saturday, the night of Resurrection Morning 2009, my thoughts have turned again to the values I began to preview in February.  I looked back at my mission statement to see which value I should continue with – whether simply in order of appearance, in strategic order of importance or relevance, or some other method. How appropriate that the next value in numerical order was the one that fits the importance of this weekend in the faith of the friends of the Risen One – Selflessness.

My definition of Selflessness in my mission statement reads:

I will put myself no higher than necessary to achieve the best for someone else.

You may notice the dichotomy of the statement above in relation to the term – self “LESS”.  But those who have tried to live the selfless life can attest to the dual nature of this value.  We all know that the classic idea of selflessness is achieved by abandoning our own needs and wants for the needs of another. But true selflessness can’t be achieved when we are less of the self than we are able to be. Thus all the calls for leaders, ministers, husbands and wives to ‘take care of themselves’, to make sure they attend to their own needs (what may seem ’selfish’) in order to be able to then supplant those needs to serve others.

We need only look to the life of the Risen One to see this.  Jesus’s purpose was to fulfill the will his Father and serving the lost sheep of Israel. He gave up heaven and royalty beyond all measure to become man – the most selfless act imaginable.  But Jesus also spent 30 years of a 33 year life – that’s 90% – in obscurity ministry wise, in which we can assume he cared  for his immediate family and provided for himself. Was this selfish? Were those moments that Jesus stole away from the people to rest and commune with his Father moments of selfish attention to His own needs? And when He lifted his voice in his final prayers, saying “Glorify thy son,” after all his pronouncements that he did not seek his own glory, was he committing an act of selfishness?(John 17:1)

Of course not.  We understand that the only reason Jesus was able to give himself totally to the Cross was because he was TOTALLY HIMSELF – that is, totally God and totally man.  Anything less would have been not enough to cleanse us by his death and justify us by His resurrection. He had to be everything God had ordained him to be in order to achieve the perfect sacrifice – one that was not for His benefit only, but for the benefit of all mankind. He gave up everything he had – and yet, he had to be everything he was so that he would have everything to give.

In the same way, my sacrifice is not helpful to my loved ones or my sphere of influence if I subscribe to be selfless by ignoring my needs and not becoming all that God has me to be.  In this way, I cheat others out of the blessings I might be able to share.  Instead, I look to see, as Rick Warren might say, what my purpose is, and utilize all the powers I have to become that person.  The difference between the selfish person and the selfless is in the heart and motive of the self.  If I stop there, and only become what I desire because of my own wants, well, that is self-ish.  But if my self is then poured into others at no additional benefit (although we know the benefits are in the continual defining of our servant character), we begin to become the kind of person Jesus was – a person that gives out of a heart of love, that stops noticing the tiny pricks of ego and self-need and is able to ‘lay down his life for a friend’.

In summary, I don’t fear becoming more than what God has me to be, for He would soon cut me down. I would fear, rather, being less than what He raised me to be, for then I can not bring others up.

So, as the celebration of Resurrection Day begins, remember that His selfless act, borne of love for you and me, should motivate us to “press on toward the mark”, knowing that we too can live lives of service to others, having been raised and restored and renewed for that specific purpose.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them. – Eph. 2:10 (KJV)