Happy Hannukah

Inspired by his best friend who is Jewish, my youngest son is curious to learn about his friend's faith. His best friend's mother gave us a menorah to use in our home, and we've been lighting candles.

Brothers

You're Invited to Dinner

Six months ago, I announced that from now on, I would be cooking and eating dinner at church every Wednesday evening - and that anyone who wanted to join me was welcome.

A few people accepted my invitation.  Throughout the summer, there would be seven to ten people joining me for dinner on Wednesdays.  I put out a basket and invited those who had come more than once to put a few dollars in to help pay for the food.  The money received almost covered what I spent.

The meals were simple:  quesadillas, hamburgers, spaghetti.  Later on I would get creative, trying new recipes, like the time I made Turkey & Vegetable Chili Verde from scratch.  Delicious, fun to make, but still simple.  The only beverage I provided was ice water, although our church does have a vending machine with reasonably priced beverages.  We ate on paper plates with paper napkins.

At the end of summer, the number of dinner guests began to grow.  Soon we were 15, then 20.  One week we had 25.  Some of those who came said they wanted an opportunity to cook, so I got to enjoy some Wednesday dinners without having to plan, shop, and prepare the food, which was nice.  And the money in the basket soon began to surpass the amount that was spent.

As we begin our seventh month of Wednesday night dinners, I'm surprised to discover that each week is more enjoyable and satisfying to me than the previous week.  I'm surprised, because I've been trained to expect just the opposite from life.  Normally, satisfaction decreases over time.  The new clothes I bought six months ago don't bring me nearly the same level of satisfaction today that they brought me when they were new.  The DVD I bought over the summer now sits on a shelf collecting dust.  I can say the same for just about everything I've ever bought.  They quickly become old, tired, boring, or obsolete, and never bring me the long-lasting satisfaction that I crave.

But Wednesday night dinners remain fresh, exciting, and deeply satisfying.  I figure this is true for several reasons:

1. It's REAL.  So often we seek to amuse ourselves with things that are VIRTUAL:  TV, internet, tabloid magazines.  But the people we encounter there aren't real.  They're not there with us.  We can't interact with TV and movie personalities, and we can only interact in a limited way with people via the internet.  This leaves us dissatisfied.
2. It's ORGANIC.  By that I mean it's something we create ourselves.  We're not dependent on someone else (TV producers, fashion designers, or corporate advertisers, for example) to mass-produce entertainment for us.  This is something we've created.  It's unique, and it's ours.
3. It's DYNAMIC.  The shirt I bought six months ago, it's still the same.  The DVD I bought: the story never changes.  But an experience that is real and organic will always be changing, different every time.  It's dynamic, not static.  New people show up, and the old people have new stories to tell.  The menu changes from week to week, and so does the location where we eat: outside on the patio when it's warm, inside when it's not.  In conversation around the dinner table, we listen and respond to what's going on in our lives and in our families:  births, deaths, lost jobs, new jobs, new relationships, and the joys and challenges of raising children or caring for parents.

This is community at its best.  This is LIFE at its best.  It's much more satisfying than anything I could buy.  And it just keeps getting better.

So:  Who wants to join me for dinner? 

(For those seriously interested in coming, yes, the invitation is real.  Weekly updates are posted at www.facebook.com/bixbyknollschurch.  If I'm organized enough, I'll even post the menu there.  Everyone is welcome.)

Thinking About Christmas

A few weeks ago, I started to write a post about how I have decided to let Santa bring my family a new TV for Christmas this year.  But before I say any more, here's an assignment:  Grab a pencil or pen (go on), and write down a list of your ten favorite things.  And by ten favorite things, I mean, if you were moving to a new city and were only allowed to take ten things with you, what would you take?  What ten things that you own would you not be able to live without?

OK, put that list aside for a moment.  Grab a new sheet of paper, and describe the one or two or three happiest places you've ever been; places where your soul was at rest, where you felt free and alive and peaceful.

Now take both lists and put them side by side.  How many of the things on your first list did you have when you were in the places you listed on your 2nd list?  How many of those things are what made those places so special to you?  Was it those things that put your soul at rest, that made you feel free and alive and peaceful?

Now, about that TV...

There's just, oh, one or two of fifteen problems.  One, Christmas is still three and a half months away.  Well, it was when I first started writing this.  Now it's only two and a half months away.  A month ago, I was finding it hard to wait for a new TV, because I saw all those beautiful, large screen TVs in the stores, and I wanted one NOW.
After all, compared to our giant box of a TV with its cathode-ray tubes and un-sharp picture and off-color images and permanently-on captioning (the color and the captioning the result of having broken the remote which is the only way to adjust such things), the wall of new TVs at the Big Store down the street sure do look cool.  "Let's go get our TV!" My wife said to me.  "Yeah, but then what will Santa bring us?" 

"Oh yeah."

I went to the public library the other day, intending to return a giant monster of a novel that took me all summer to read.  (I mean that literally.  I renewed it once, then tried to renew it again but was told someone else had placed a hold on it.  So I turned it in and immediately placed a hold on it myself, so that I could get it back and finish it.)  I didn't intend to check any new books out, but on the shelf I saw "The 100-thing Challenge." 

Perhaps it goes without saying, but it's about a man who decided to live a whole year with only 100 "things" in his possession.

Reading the book reminded me of the lists I've made for myself, the same lists I assigned you at the beginning of this essay.  And I remembered then that none of my "happy places" made my list #2 because of anything that was on my list #1.

Not even a fancy TV or any other electronic device.

In fact, at the top of the list of happy places is a cabin with a bare plywood floor and a canvas roof - more of a tent, really than a cabin - where I spent several summers while counseling summer camp back when I was in college.  Everything I had with me while I lived in that tent-cabin came with me in a duffel bag. 

In the month since I first started writing this, it has dawned on me that we don't really watch TV all that much.  At this moment, I can't even remember the last show I watched on the TV.  I think it was some DVD movie from Netflix that none of us remembers requesting and which was incredibly boring, despite having some big name actors in it.  (Incidentally, it is also the last DVD movie we'll be watching from Netflix, since we, like so many others, have cancelled that service.)

I mentioned this to my wife.  Together, we then decided that Santa could bring us something else for Christmas, something that isn't really a "thing," but more of an event, an activity that our family can do together.  Santa has already paid for this, in fact, and it's just waiting for Christmas day.  And, unlike the TV, this gift might actually make our family happy.

Young Jeremiah

The book of Jeremiah begins with the prophet's call. God appoints Jeremiah "a prophet to the nations," to which Jeremiah replies, "But I'm just a boy!"

Jeremiah's exact age is not mentioned.  No doubt he was young, but how young?  Was he, in fact, just a boy?  Or is the reference to his youth more of a figurative, poetic way of saying that he lacked experience?  Scholars may not know the specific answers to these questions.  However, I am convinced I know exactly how old Jeremiah was. 

He was 14.

Furthermore, I am convinced that not only was Jeremiah 14, but that he was a 14 year-old who lived with attention deficit.

In the book he wrote, Jeremiah's complaints are frequent.  He argues constantly with God.  He feels sorry for himself.  He casts blame on others.

All this will sound familiar to any parent of a 14 year-old boy.

Some examples, with the chapter & verse cited:

• "God, you lie!" (4:10)
• "People are stupid." (4:22)
• "The world sucks." (4:23)
• "Everyone hates me and curses me." (15:10)
• "God, it's all YOUR fault!" (15:15)
• "God, you're deceitful!  You're a deceitful brook.  You're a failure!" (15:18)
• "I wish I'd never been born!" (20:14-18)

And then, right in the middle of all this, in typical teenage-boy-fashion that gives parents mental whiplash, Jeremiah says:

"Sing to the Lord!  Praise the Lord!"  (20:13)

I am aware that reading and interpreting scripture is never done in complete isolation.  It can never be completely objective.  What we see in scripture is always influenced, to some degree, by our present context.

Nevertheless, it's nice to know that even God's efforts to raise a teenage prophet had its own ups and downs.  And it's nice to know that, even though God must have known in advance of the challenges that would arise, God still called Jeremiah to a special, important role as a prophet.

---

For more fun, listen to this song in which some teens sing the praises of their "mama."

Guide to Middle School

So, while last week my oldest son started high school, this week my youngest son started middle school.  All summer long his big brother had been telling him his favorite horror stories about how bad middle school is, and how his younger brother wouldn't survive.

Turns out this was just his way of showing brotherly love.

On Tuesday, the night before classes began, I saw this "survival guide" written out by my oldest son for his younger brother.  It says:

Bob Lucky's Guide to Hughes Middle School
[Bob Lucky is an alias my older son likes to use for himself]

Backpacks:  Five folders or one folder with five dividers.  Do not use a roller.

Locker Room:  Don't play or mess around.  Get in, change, get out.

Passing Period:  Five min. is enough tiime if you don't stand around.  Go to class.  You even have enough time to use the restroom.

Restrooms: They are clean but if you have to go number 2, go during class.

Seating:  Don't wait for others to sit first.  Sit first and let people sit by you, not you sit by them.

Bullies:  Avoid them.  Have a friend.  If a bully is following or chasing you, go to the library or a classroom.

Crushes/girls:  good luck.

Teachers:  Mr. Dekrai and Mrs. Bowley are cool.  They know luckies.

Lunch:  Eat with (a) friend(s).

Other:  Chaske can help.

Haircut

School began this week for Ethan.  He's now a freshman in high school.  The school he is attending is a private Christian school, which we enrolled him in because of its small size and good drama program. 

(The city of Long Beach has some excellent high schools, but all but one have several thousand students in them, and we couldn't get him in to that one.)

A few weeks ago we attended new student orientation.  At one point the office secretary pulled me aside and said that Ethan would need a haircut in order to comply with the school dress code. 

Personally, I've always thought Ethan looked good with long hair, as long as he took care of it.  It was a conditional approval.  The conditions were rarely met.  So I had no qualms about telling him that the hair needed to be cut.

"So when do you want to go get it cut?" I asked. 
"I want you to do it."
So I did.  The night before school started.

First Loop

It was the first looping roller coaster ever built.  And yesterday, it was almost Tristan's first ride on a looping roller coaster.  Almost. 

Signing the Register



A group of boy scouts sign theirt name in the register at the top of Mt. Baden-Powell.  Tristan, at left, was the youngest scout on the trip, and although he was tempted to give up on the 4-mile, 3,000' climb, he was happy to be on top.



"Da Plane! Da Plane!"

A week of General Assembly in Nashville, followed by a week of Vacation Bible School (which was in addition to my usual workload) followed by a week of caring for my wife following her surgery (in addition to my usual workload).  In case you're wondering why my blogging has been a little lacking lately, that's why.

Sunday, my wife conspired with some leaders in the church to force me to take a day off, which I did yesterday.  I grabbed my bike, a map, and hopped on the metro rail to the L.A. County Arboretum, where I met my sister (who just happened to also be taking a day off), her 9 month-old daughter, and my father. 

The L.A. County Arboretum, incidentally, is where they film(ed) many TV shows & movies, including
"Fantasy Island."

Shoes

It's a week of Vacation Bible School at my church, and it's keeping me busy.  I know, most pastors leave VBS for others to run, but I can't let them have all the fun, can I?  I've been running one of the "stations" as well as taking pictures that will be made into a slide show at the end of the week....The past few days have been long, but now my focus is shifting, to taking care of my wife who is scheduled to have surgery this morning.... Is it strange that, of all the pictures of cute kids and smiling faces I've taken this week, I'm drawn to this one?  Is it because of the simplicity of it, in contrast to the hectic complexity of the week?  Or maybe it's just that it's different from all the much more action-oriented photos I've snapped these past few days....

Seeing Double

In a dark, cavernous convention hall, 5,000 people gathered each evening for worship.  On the last night, a number of the youth from all over Norther America formed a choir that led us in song, their images projected on large screens throughout the hall so that even those in the back could see.  In the center, with his mane of curly hair, was my son.

Preparing for a Trip

Ginger and Tristan are at camp this week - Ginger as counselor, Tristan as one of 58 4th-6th grade campers - so it's just Ethan and me at home.  Ginger left on Saturday (staff arrives a day early) and Tristan on Sunday, and it took me until Wednesday to get caught up on the dishes and laundry.

It's fun to watch Ginger prepare to leave on a trip, as long as the watching is done from a distance.  She thinks she can do more in the time she has than is actually possible, a trait she shares with many people I think.  That's one of the difference between her and I; I tend to overestimate how long a given task will take, intentionally, so that I have some breathing room.  Ginger finds this annoying, because it often means arriving someplace ten or thirty minutes early, and having to sit and wait.  Oh, the horror of having to sit and wait because you arrived too early!  She would rather not start getting ready any sooner than she has to, so that she doesn't have to leave too early and arrive at her destination too early.

So.  After she left on Saturday (an hour late) I began cleaning the dishes, which were extra messy on account of the scones Ginger made from scratch Saturday morning.  ("Of course I have time to make scones!" she told me when she saw me raise my eyebrows.)  There were a lot of scones, and I figured that at least I would get to start the first couple of days of the week off with a delicious scone for breakfast, but alas, the dog (her dog, I might add, the one she got when I was out of town one weekend) ate them all while I was at church Sunday morning.

Three days this week, Ethan has summer school, although he stayed home sick yesterday.  Also, he has three doctor appointments.  I was only aware of one of them when the week started.  (We went to two of them; I cancelled the third.)

As we were leaving the first of his appointments, on Tuesday, I noticed the unusual clouds.  They weren't the normal marine layer that we get most morning this time of year, but splotchy, clumpy patches of white.  They were clouds that Ethan saw shapes in:  clowns, animals, etc.  (Our normal morning clouds don't look like anything, except perhaps a gray blanket that slowly disappears as the day progresses.) 

It was a pleasantly warm day, and I told Ethan that the clouds reminded me of Indiana, where we lived for three and a half years.  I wondered out loud if we'd get to see clouds like that in Nashville.

Yes, Nashville.  We're going there next week for our church's General Assembly.  When we made the decision to go, all four of us, Ginger was working, so we bought our plane tickets and reserved a hotel room. 

Then Ginger stopped working.

We've been doing everything we can to save, and have even received a little help from others, but it looks like this trip will erase what little savings we have left.  I've also applied for a new credit card, which I guess isn't such a bad thing since I personally don't have any cards except for a few store cards with no balance on them.  But still, I hope Ginger can find a job soon.

I'm trying not to be too anxious about all this - but since I seem to live off of anxiety, it's not easy.  On the other hand, I'm currently reading a novel (Shantaram) that's set in the slums of India, and it makes me feel better.  Whether that's good or bad, I don't know, but it helps to know that I could have a lot less, and still find happiness.

So next week, we head to Nashville.  If you're there, you'll recognize us:  we'll be the Ron Weasleys of the assembly, carrying around our ziploc bags of peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. 

Guardians of the Breakfast Table

Unsure of what to post on my blog today, I looked on the camera to see if there were any pictures there that hadn't been transferred to the computer.  I found this one (and several like it). 

Lego figures like these are a common site around the house ... and even my office, as I currently have several guarding the table where we hold our weekly staff meetings. 

The owner of these figures, incidentally, is about to begin his freshman year in high school, and went on his first (group) date the other night.

Last Week of School

The photo below shows my wife and I with our oldest son on the day he graduated from elementary school three years ago.  Now he is finishing middle school, and next week will be considered a high school freshman.  (His younger brother, meanwhile will move from elementary school to middle school.)

As the picture shows, some things change, and some things don't.  My wife still blinks for pictures, but if the three of us were positioned the same way, you'd never know it, as our son is now as tall as she is and would completely block her from view.

 

Just Like Camping

When our next-door neighbors moved away and left behind their fire bowl, we decided to put it to good use.  This past weekend alone, with warm spring weather, we enjoyed two evening weenie roasts, one with some neighborhood kids, and another with some high school youth from church. 

On Friday night, when this picture was taken, the sky was clear, and a rising almost-full moon was startling in its beauty.  On Sunday night, the celestial lights were hidden behind the fog that had come in from the Pacific Ocean. 

Several of the kids said with smiles on their faces:  "this is just like camping!"  They laughed and talked with one another.  It didn't even seem to bother them that they had to put down their portable electronic games in order to roast their hot dogs.

13 Secrets Your Pastor Won't Tell You

Articles that share thirteen things or "secrets" seem popular lately.  I'm not sure, but I think they started with Reader's Digest, or maybe they were just popularized there.  Anyway, it made me wonder if there are thirteen secrets that pastors don't/won't share.  Below you can read thirteen secrets I thought of off the top of my head, although to call them "secrets" may not be quite right, since I'm sharing them with you.  Also, I found it hard to be as snarky or whiny as many of the "13 Secrets..." lists I've seen, which, I think, is a good thing....

1. Sermon feedback is always appreciated, even when it's negative.  I want to be the best preacher I can be, and feedback helps.  I may not always follow your advice, especially if it contradicts other advice I've received, but I will listen.
2. Sometimes I preach a sermon I'm not satisfied with.  I won't tell you this, though, because I've had too many people tell me that a sermon I thought was lousy contained just what they needed to hear that day.
3. It's hard for me to talk about giving to the church.  I know how much of the church's budget goes to my salary.
4. At the same time, I do want you to know that raising a family on a pastor's salary is extremely difficult.
5. When I do talk about money, and say that you will be blessed by giving, it's not just lip service.  I really do believe that those who give generously find greater happiness.  I've experienced this myself.
6. I think about leaving the ministry.  A lot.  But I don't think I ever will.
7. When you call or stop by and I assure you that you're not interrupting, some of the time I'm lying.  However, I'd rather have you interrupt me occasionally than not hear from you at all.
8. I probably will not compliment you on your appearance, no matter how wonderful your new haircut is or how fabulous your new outfit is, because too many boundary training workshops have convinced me that just about any such comment can be interpreted as sexual harassment.  I won't initiate a hug with you for the same reason, although I will gladly return a hug that you initiate.
9. I'd rather officiate at a funeral than a wedding.  Many of my clergy colleagues feel this way.  Weddings are fine, but more ministry happens at a funeral.
10. I love my pastoral identity when it makes relationship-building easier and when it allows people to feel comfortable sharing their deepest questions with me.
11. I hate my pastoral identity when it keeps you from inviting me over for a beer.
12. Finding a balance between family and ministry is a struggle.  Family plans - even trips - are often sacrificed because of something happening at church.  Likewise, ministry is sometimes forced to take a backseat so that I can deal with issues at home.  Don't like it?  Join a church that requires its clergy to be celibate.*
13. I am passionate about the gospel and the life to which God calls us, even though there are times when I feel like a complete failure when it comes to living that life myself.

So there you go.  If you are clergy, what would you add?  If you are not clergy, what's a secret or two that you won't tell your pastor?

(*my attempt to inject some of the whiny snarkiness of the "13 Secrets" genre into my list.)

Cheesy Party Crasher (Special Wednesday post)

This past weekend, my family crashed a party hosted by some folks from Tillamook cheese; but we were invited, so it was OK.

The invitation came on Saturday when we went to visit the folks from Tillamook who were giving out free samples in front of a local grocery store as part of their "Loaf Love" tour.  As soon as we walked up, and they saw my son's "Loaf Love" t-shirt, they got all excited.  (The shirt he won when he submitted a photo taken of himself the last time the tour came to town, and won a photo contest.)

My son, you see, loves cheese.  And for some reason, he has a strong preference for Tillamook.  When the folks at the tour saw what a big fan he is, they invited us to a party the following day, which the Loaf Love Tour folks were hosting for some "mom bloggers" in Orange County. 

So we stopped by.  They fed us some yummy grilled cheese sandwiches, and I promised that even though I'm not a "mom blogger," that I'd mention them here at FieldofDandelions.com. 

FTC-Mandated Disclosure: As of December 2009, bloggers are required by the Federal Trade Commission to disclose payments and freebies. Danny Bradfield did receive a free grilled cheese sandwich from Tillamook. 

Nature Walk

El Dorado Nature Center is a hidden jewel in Long Beach.  Looking at the photo, it might be hard to believe that this is in the middle of a large, urban city.  (Being there in person, and hearing the noise of a not-so-distant freeway, makes it a little easier to believe.)  On Saturday, I took my youngest son and a friend of his to hike the Center's "Two-Mile Trail."  They didn't want to go at first.  Once there, however, they didn't want to leave.

 

Quality of Life

Over the years, when faced with a decision about how I want to live or how I want to raise my family, I have learned to ask myself a question.  The question I ask myself gives me clarity and helps me choose which option is the best. 

The question is:  "Will this choice add to my/our quality of life?"

This was a question I asked when my family first moved to the Long Beach area three years ago.  When we began looking for a place to live, it was important to me that it be within walking distance of where I worked.

In southern California, the conventional wisdom is that you work where the work is, and you live where you can get the best deal on a home.  (The "best deal" is defined as the most property, square-footage, and amenities that your money can buy.)  If you have to commute an hour a day between work and home, so be it.  That's the price one pays.

Well, it's not a price I was willing to pay.  It didn't seem worth it to me to have the nicest home and the best job possible if that meant spending an hour a day (245 hours per year) in traffic.  A commute like that costs $1,500 in gas per year at four dollars per gallon, which is the current cost for gas here and, coincidentally, the cost when I moved here three years ago.  That cost does not include the cost of insurance and maintenance, both of which would be substantially higher given the extra driving miles, not to mention the aggravation of dealing with traffic every day.  It also does not include the cost that we all pay by having more auto exhaust and pollution in our skies and in our lungs

For me, quality of life is also improved when I work and live in the same community.  It makes it easier to get to know one's neighbors.  Also, with two kids in school, it's so nice to be just a few blocks away from them during the day.  I can't imagine how much more complicated it would be to, say, pick up a sick kid from school or arrange for a parent/teacher conference if I wasn't so close.

We are a one-car family.  There are days when having a second car would be helpful, especially now that my wife is enrolled in a master's degree program at a school that is not walking distance, taking evening classes.  However, the cost of the car, not to mention the extra insurance, registratin, maintenance, and four dollar gas, isn't worth it to me.  It is also not worth it to me that our country sends servicemen and servicewomen into harm's way just so I can have a steady supply of cheap gasoline.  The obscene amount of resources our nation spends on the military comes at the expense of other programs and services.  Our military is increasingly being used to protect our economy but not necessarily our security.  This also does not add to my quality of life.

With only one car, we find ourselves walking and riding our bikes more.  Although my kids complain when I pick them up from school without a car, our walks home provide the best conversation of our day.  Often they are our only real conversations of the day.  How much quality of life would I be sacrificing if I drove them home, only to see them disappear into their video games (after finishing their homework, of course)?

Speaking of video games:  I guess no one is perfect.  A little over a year ago, against my better judgment, we got a Wii.  With proper limits, video games are fine, but have you ever tried setting limits for a thirteen year-old?  An endless refrain of "That's not fair!" reverberates off the walls and out into the streets.  And yet, when this same thirteen year-old plays outside, sits on the floor with his Legos, or reads a good book, he is just as happy - and often happier - then he is playing video games that are almost always designed in such a way that winning is nearly impossible.  This only adds to a teenager's sense of frustration and low self-esteem.

What big decisions are you facing right now?  A major purchase, a decision about where to live/work, or a choice about how to use your time?  Are you able to toss conventional wisdom aside, and see which choice will bring lasting happiness?  Can you determine which choice will add to - rather than subtract from - your quality of life?