Without the First, the Others Could Not Possibly Be

Tonight I'm on a business trip sleeping over in the fair Emerald City (Seattle). Victoria and I once lived here. In fact, we were married here. Which brings me to my post theme this time.

So happens that there's some kind of convention in Seattle this week, so I couldn't stay in my usual hotel when I spend the night here. It's rare that I have to be away from the home for an entire evening because I work very hard to keep most of my business excursions limited to one day. It makes for a long day, mind you, especially when I wake up at 3:30 a.m. to catch the first flight out and then catch the late afternoon flight home so I can eat dinner with my family. But it's worth it to me to be exhausted at the end of a long day, scurrying to get home, because I'd much rather be with my loved ones than more alert and relaxed in a lousy hotel room, no matter how nice it is. Since I didn't have many options, I decided to stay in the hotel where Victoria and I stayed on our first Honeymoon night together. I figured it would be nostalgic and give me an opportunity to reflect. Turns our my "figuring" was spot on as I sit here looking out through my hotel room window at what perfectly paints the City's nickname. Jewels are shining everywhere, but my most treasured jewel is not here with me tonight.

I'll never forget that day and that night some twenty-eight years ago. It was perfect in every sense. The weather (pristine during an usually dreary season), the chapel, the pastor, the family, the guests, the flowers, the music, the attire, the festivities, the food, the settings... all were perfect, absolutely perfect. But what was more perfect than all of that was Victoria. She was stunning. She quite literally took my breath away. I cried when I saw her coming down the aisle - I couldn't help myself. Her presence and class were above anything I'd ever seen in my whole life. And I couldn't wait to be with her. Our vows were so powerful, it was if they were from God Himself. I'm loving thinking about that day right now. Of course I only wish Victoria were here with me.

The outer shell of the hotel hasn't changed at all, but the interior's been remodeled. The rooms are a little more modern, but when I walked into the lobby this afternoon I immediately recognized the reception desk and remembered standing there with Victoria in her wedding apparel looking as remarkable as she ever could. People stared and wished us such wonderful blessings. We went to the room, changed clothes and went out to dinner that night. In fact, it was on top of the very hotel I'm staying in tonight. We talked that evening about every detail of our day. We both admitted that our cheeks were tired from smiling so much - those muscles had never been wound so tightly.

We could never have dreamed or crafted the life we lived to this point following what could never be repeated. God, our God, knew all along, and continues to unfold day after day after day a wedding that gets played out each day the new sun rises. Not all are as dreamy as that first, but without the first the others could not possibly be. I'm intro and retro-spective tonight, especially without Victoria, but I'm glad God brought me to this place, at least this one more time. I should sleep well tonight.

I'm missing you, Vicki Anne,

Holding On & Letting Go

I'll never forget the first time I learned how to ride a bicycle. Staring at that contraption frightened me. It was bigger than life, bright red, and the wheels seemed like they stood as tall as me. It was for sure over-sized for my body, but I was determined with the help of my Dad to learn how to ride that bike. Being highly maturated in the frontal lobe area of my brain very early in life (another way of saying that I was a scared-i-cat, which I was often called by others and for good reason), I was afraid to ride that bike. Deep down I knew I would fall and skin my knees, break a leg or have some other "devastating" life catastrophe impinge upon my body. But there was also a part of me, a part inside of most everyone I suppose, that wanted to prove that I could overcome my anxiety and do what every other boy and girl could do and enjoy. The disconcerting thing was that most of them were much younger than me and they made it look like it was "just like riding a bike". With my tip toes barely touching the hot black top that warm summer dusk, my Dad gave me a push while I lifted my feet to the pedals. He held onto the seat from behind so I wouldn't fall, and then told me to push hard on those shin-biting protrusions. Wobbling to and fro, like a drunken sailor on wheels, I criss-crossed the street, stopping suddenly by putting my feet back on safe and solid ground. During one of those tries, when he eventually let go (every Dad has to as some point) I remember getting the wheels stuck in a rut in the road an then what I knew was going to happen really did - I crashed and skinned my knee. The red cherry stung and I cried. My Mom watched from the front yard and wanted to come to my rescue, I'm sure, but left me to what was best. Dad knew I was panicked, so he calmed me down and told me to give it another try. We did that several times until finally I figured out that the ole balancing thing was something I could actually do after all. Quickly my fear turned to exuberance, and my pride swelled to a healthy level, something along the lines of confidence. I did it! I rode a bike, just like everyone else could, and it was fun. I went to bed that night proud as punch, and couldn't wait to do it again the next day. Before long I was riding with one hand on the handle-bars, then none, then popping wheelies, then skidding into a fishtail,... you know, really cool stuff.

I've now experienced what my Dad did on that day long ago, on several occasions actually; first with Austin on what we called "big blue" (a small Schwinn), then with Annie, and eventually with Barret. (Barret was almost killed on "big blue" several years ago when he took a turn on a blind corner and a pickup truck nailed him head on. Neither one of them knew what hit them. God spared Barret that day as he lay underneath the chassis unconscious. We now walk by that spot on the way to our neighborhood pool almost every summer day. Each time I step on that corner of the street I thank God for mercifully giving us more time with Barret.)

After teaching Barret how to ride a bike I figured those days were over, at least with my own children - maybe grandchildren someday, but most dads want to save that for themselves. I understand. However God had a different plan for me on Friday. July 23rd was the day I experienced groundhog day again and taught Piper how to ride a bike. The routine was so predictable, almost like watching a tape recording of my own greenhorn riding days and also those of teaching my other children. She wobbled, she fell, she screamed, she laughed, she... eventually figured it out and was, well... "proud as punch" (we're teaching Piper idioms like this one, although I'm quite confident they wouldn't say it quite like that in China).

Willow and Poppy still need the third wheel and have scooted around on their Red Flyer tricycles all summer. The image of their pigtailed bobs swinging here and there (Poppy's are more like short, fluffy sticks since her hair is so short) while I watch them from behind en route to swimming is indelibly etched in my mind. A sight to behold. Today, however, Victoria and I (mostly Victoria) couldn't stand it any longer and decided to get them their own bicycles with training wheels. We surprised them with their new modes of transportation, and they were like... pigs in poop (I think we'll save that idiom for Piper for another day). Before you knew it, the neighbor girls brought out their bikes and the whole culdesac was full of racing riders on their spoked rims.

Victoria and I are still learning, at our age, how to ride a bike - the bike of raising children that is. We wobble to and fro, we get caught in ruts and fall down, we get scabby knees, we get prideful and overly confident sometimes (until we crash and get humbled again), we're tired at the end of a long day of riding, we get scared to get back on the frame wondering if we'll remember how, and so on, and so on. God sometimes holds onto our seats, and sometimes He let's go, but He's never far away. He kisses our owees and makes them all better, and He tells us to get back on the bike because He's wired us to balance that thing and get from point "A" to point "B". After riding for so long we sometimes forget that it's fun, even though going up those steep hills is intimidating and exhausting. But what goes up must come down, and coasting down a long, windy road with the warm wind blowing in our faces and the beautiful scenery passing us on our left and our right refreshes our spirits and cause us to look forward to riding again tomorrow. It's just like riding a bike.

Holding On & Letting Go,

25 Years & 25 Reasons

Twenty-five (25) years ago today, Victoria and I sat in a small, cozy hospital room in Seattle, Washington and held our first bundle of joy God created through us. We coddled Austin with kid gloves. Like fish out of water we flopped and flailed pondering at every turn whether we parented "correctly" at that moment. We look back now, twenty-five (25) years later, and feel that God's been much more gracious with our mistakes than Austin over his, just by sheer number. This day we celebrate with exuberance over our son and the banner of protection He's covered us with.

And now we share twenty-five (25) reasons why we give thanks over Austin today:

1. He's our first born.
2. He's a compliant one.
3. He's tender in heart.
4. He's considerate of others.
5. He's studious in mind.
6. He's loyal in soul.
7. He's adventuresome in spirit.
8. He's contemplative in thought.
9. He's conscious of conscience.
10. He's witted in laughter.
11. He's saved by Jesus.
12. He's serious in faith.
13. He's committed in love.
14. He's free from fear.
15. He's devoted in marriage.
16. He's passionate about life.
17. He's exploring the expanse.
18. He's faithful to us.
19. He's dedicated to holiness.
20. He's excelled in education.
21. He's loved his siblings.
22. He's listened to wisdom.
23. He's studied the Bible.
24. He's prayed in belief.
25. He's lived this long.

And he'll live forever! Happy Birthday, Austin.

We couldn't love you more,

The Post That Was Never Posted

I just wrote a huge post, with a ton of thought put into it, pictures and all, and when I went to post it the "auto-save" feature failed. When I went back in to find what I wrote and re-post, it was nowhere to be found. Lost in cyberspace. I'm so frustrated.

I guess I wasn't meant to post tonight. I'm too exasperated to try to recreate it, so I'm going to pass for the evening.

"Help me, God, because I'm really ticked right now. And what ticks me off even more is that I'm ticked."

I'll try again soon.

Grace Resolutions

I pressed through yet another birthday last week while on our family vacation at Mount Hermon. There was a season when birthdays caused me to look ahead at what could be, and now I find that birthdays sometimes cause me to look back at what should have been. But because I have hope, looking back still propels me to look ahead and believe that there's always time to incinerate impurities while on the journey to complete purity. So I decided this birthday to write down some core lifestyle practices that I've strived and still want even more to be characteristic of whatever God's got left for me. The idea came from Jonathan Edwards, one of the great reformers and puritans of our faith. I have one for each year of my life, and have decided to post them here for my children and wife to remember. I hope to read them frequently myself to serve as a reminder of the target I'm steering toward. Here they are:

With the grace of God...

1. I will strive every day to not read any other book until I've read The Book.

2. I will strive every day to not eat any other food until I've eaten from The Bread of Life.

3. I will strive every night not shut my eyes with my head on the pillow until I've sought the Lord one last time.

4. I will strive to pray for every member of my family every day.

5. I will strive to read through the entire Bible at least once per year.

6. I will strive to pray and thank God every day for my job and health.

7. I will strive to transcribe the entire Bible at least once before I meet my Jesus face-to-face.

8. I will strive to pray for one country/nation of the world at least once per day.

9. I will strive to tangibly demonstrate my love for Victoria every day.

10. I will strive to never say anything unkind about another.

11. I will strive to never willingly or intentionally gaze upon anything that will fain my affection for Jesus or my wife.

12. I will strive to give my body enough rest every day to ensure my focus upon Jesus is keen.

13. I will strive to never eat anything that is knowingly unhealthy for my body.

14. I will strive to always be fully focused and never distracted while in the presence of another.

15. I will strive to resist over-indulging in substances that alter my presence of mind.

16. I will strive to give each of my children ample love and attention that none ever feel neglected or cheated.

17. I will strive to always be memorizing or reviewing memorized Scripture on a daily basis.

18. I will strive to always journal my thoughts and experiences on a regular basis so that my wife and children will have a written remembrance of God's hand upon my heart.

19. I will strive to remain committed and devoted to a local church family until I meet my Jesus face-to-face.

20. I will strive to always speak the truth, never embellishing or limiting facts to self-adorn.

21. I will strive to always give money to anyone who asks, without judgment or hesitancy.

22. I will strive to always open my home to anyone in need.

23. I will strive to always serve myself last when in the presence of others, regardless of the context or content.

24. I will strive to always honor the Word of God with a fearful prayer of Psalm 119:17-18 before opening it.

25. I will strive to diligently save enough money so that I need not burden another for help when Victoria and I are aged.

26. I will strive to faithfully exercise and buffet my body to care for the temple that God has placed me in.

27. I will strive to loosely hold the things God has entrusted to me so that should they disappear I will not become despondent.

28. I will strive to care for the things God has entrusted to me so that I never take them for granted or abuse them and thereby dishonor Him.

29. I will strive to always be aware of the supernatural so that I give God credit for the obvious and the obscure.

30. I will strive to always give thanks in all circumstances, especially those difficult providences He places in my pathway.

31. I will strive to boldly make mention of Jesus and His saving grace at every opportunity the Spirit makes me aware of.

32. I will strive to always honor my mother and father, even if and after they meet the Lord before me.

33. I will strive to never seek opportunities that place me in positions of focus, and only be public when asked to do so.

34. I will strive to always extend a word, whether written or verbal, of thanks to anyone who gives to me.

35. I will strive to always immediately seek forgiveness to anyone I knowingly injure, whether intentional or not.

36. I will strive to regularly make connections with all members of my family, especially when we're physically apart from one another.

37. I will strive to always work so that all the physical needs of my family are attended to until they're able to care for themselves.

38. I will strive to personally and individually live on only enough cash each day so that I do not indulge in more than a majority of the world's population.

39. I will strive to be and remain debt-free.

40. I will strive to have my household in order so that when the Lord takes me home I have not left a burden to others.

41. I will strive to always let my "yes" be yes and my "no" be no, never committing to things I cannot follow through on and following through on things I've committed to.

42. I will strive to always give the other the benefit of the doubt, knowing that I cannot possibly know the heart of mankind.

43. I will strive to always force myself into positions of love so that I will resist the temptation to serve myself, which I'm always naturally inclined to do.

44. I will strive to always master any habit that has greater control over me than I of it.

45. I will strive to regularly and routinely fast and pray over matters where a clearly supernatural measure of God's grace is required.

46. I will strive to honor, respect and pray for those who God has placed in authority over me and never speak ill of them, regardless of whether I agree with or prefer their standards.

47. I will strive to at least one time per year place myself in isolation that I might seek the Lord for guidance and direction for the next twelve months.

48. I will strive to regularly surround myself with music that draws my gaze upward and enlivens my spirit with zealousness.

49. I will strive to always give faithfully and financially to the church to facilitate the greater furtherance of the Kingdom of God.

50. I will strive to always honor the Sabbath as a day of worship and rest, especially when I'm asked to either work or engage in extra curricular leisure as an exchange.

51. I will strive to never complain about anything.

52. I will strive to always forgive those who have wronged me, just as Jesus has forgiven all my wrongs against Him.

Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner.

Resolved,

Recipients of A Hundred Times As Much

We're all currently vacationing at Mount Hermon Christian Conference Center, located near Santa Cruz, California (this is where Victoria and I met in 1979). We've been coming here for eighteen years (in a row now). Our first year as family "campers" was when Victoria was pregnant with Barret - that's how we keep track of our tenure here. Of course this is Piper's first year here, and we're naturally missing Austin and Meagan. A special treat for us is that Annie's here with us, at least for the first few days, because she doesn't have to go back for her summer internship in the Bay Area until Wednesday.

While Piper was out exploring the grounds with a new found friend (this place is very safe, and she's a friend "magnet" so it doesn't take long for her to make acquaintances) and the other two little ones were taking a nap, Victoria found ourselves in the unusual position of being alone with both Annie and Barret. As the Lord would have it, our conversation steered toward what it was like before we had six children and it was just the five of us (Austin, Annie and Barret). Being here generates remembrances of summers gone by at Mount Hermon because we have so many experiences here that date back to our infancy as a newly formed family. Swimming, hiking, exploring, boating, laughing, eating ice-cream, studying the Bible, etc... The conversation was nostalgic. Both of them said they missed those days. It was also said out of the same breath that there wasn't a preference for the way it was, nor would (or could we for that matter because change is inevitable) it be desirable to go back.

While listening to the conversation I also had several conversations going on with myself in my own mind and heart. The bottom line is that I felt deeply for our first three children and all of the radical change in family dynamics that's been foisted upon them over the last four years (especially Barret). They've all (including Meagan) been so loving and supportive, but it has cost them something for us to pursue this calling from God. In fact, it's cost them a lot. One of my greatest fears about adopting (and Victoria's too) was that our first three children might feel ostracized and left behind. A lot of outside attention is given to these little bundles of Chinese wonder that have entered our life, and the others stand by and silently (and also openly and honestly) support and give the girls honor directed away from themselves. While this is certainly healthy in so many ways, it also needs to be revered with respect and appreciation. Victoria and I are forever grateful for Austin, Meagan, Annie and Barret and the manner in which they've laid down their lives for the sake of another.

And if we could give anyone one piece of advice that already have children and are pursuing, or thinking about pursuing adoption, we would have to say to them that they should be keenly aware of their already existing lives and hearts of the children God's presently given them. One of many goals we have is to give each of our six (seven) children an appropriate level of love and parenting so that another isn't overly showered or under cared for. This requires sharp attention and radar sensitive antennae. May God help us all.

"... everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life." (Matthew 19:29)

Recipients of a Hundred Times as Much,

Loving Language

We've learned that language development moves through various phases that are identified by very distinct characteristics. At least that's been our personal experience by observing Piper as she learns to master a new language, English.

At first much of our communication with her was through one or two word syllables, often accompanied by hand motions or pointing to things we were referring to. It's really quite amazing just how much communication actually transpires without any real grasp of the other's language. We seemed to get along pretty well, surprisingly well as a matter of fact during those first few weeks with one another in spite of the reality that we didn't know much of the other's native vocabulary. We still vividly remember those genesis days when we played games with one another, like stick-man, just to help each other break down barriers and develop a bond.

Before long we discovered that we were actually carrying on conversations with one another through simple sentence structures. We might have been speaking the vocabulary of a two or three year old, but that's better than before and much better than nothing. Some of the frustrations during that phase are that you want to convey more, but don't know how because, as Piper would say back then (and still does sometimes), "Too much English", meaning it takes too many complicated English words to let you know what I'm trying to say. We even found ourselves sometimes saying to ourselves, "It's just too difficult."

Then comes the phase where the expanse of vocabulary grows and the use of words now conveys much deeper thoughts. The grammar is terrible, but you figure out pretty quickly what the other is trying to say, even through very thick accents. During this stage we found ourselves (and still do) asking Piper to either speak more slowly or teaching her just how to enunciate a word. Many words are so very difficult because the use of those sounds are not utilized in China. Furthermore, as we recently learned from an Asian-American friend of ours that also speaks Mandarin, Chinese words almost always begin with a consonant and end with a vowel. Few English words end with a vowel, and many actually begin with a vowel. Combine that with definite articles that are usually absent in Mandarin, and you begin to see real quick that the English language isn't as easy as we think it is. We have a lot of sympathy for poor little Piper working so hard to learn our language.

But here's where the big breakthrough begins to happen - it's when the feeling barrier is broken. First of all, communicating about feelings in China is culturally difficult to begin with, so establishing a level of acceptance that it's O. K. to do so is hard to build. But even when a platform of safety is created, using those feeling-words is harder than you might think. We remember asking Piper early on how she felt about things and she would just say, "Wha dat? 'Feel?'" In fact, one time she told Victoria that she was watching a movie that caused water to come out of her eyes, but she couldn't understand why. Victoria explained to her that something was happening in her heart that showed itself in her face and eyes, but Piper just couldn't get it. But now, now we're beginning to talk about feelings which opens up a whole new world of communication and, therefore, bonding and connection. When we say we love each other it's more than just words now, we can feel it from one another. How do we know? Not long ago Victoria left for a trip to spend some time with Annie down south. When she said to good-bye, Piper began to tear up. This was the first time such an emotion was expressed externally as a reflection of what was really happening internally.

And here's the "capper": Piper was awarded in June the highest honors for English Language Development (ELD) at her Middle School. This was given among many students, most of whom had taken or were enrolled in ELD all year long while she was just there for the last three months of the school year. The school administration went out of their way to let us know that these things are not handed out easily, and that she has astonishingly come a long way in a very short period of time.

We're proud of Piper, and are finding more and more that our communication with one another is richer and richer with each passing day. Now she's off to summer school to continue with her English Language Development (something she's not too thrilled to do while most other kids are off). We've got to keep this fast train moving while there's momentum. She's really chugging along so well.

Just think. God could have chosen to create us without language, but instead He did and life seems so much more complete with it. Now we can understand, and He can be understood.

Loving Language,

Fatherhood on Father's Day

The core essence of Father's Day is fatherhood. That's obvious and sort of goes without stating. Apart from children there would be no fathers, and without fathers there would be no children. But sadly there are children once from fathers that are now fatherless. And also, sadly, there are fathers once with children that are now childless altogether. Both are a travesty and a tragedy of unfathomable proportion. For my children such is not the case. And for me? Neither does it apply. These are gifts to us that are well beyond any of our own doing, and these are also mercies to us far beyond our deserving.

This paradigm about the grace and mercy of fatherhood is not shared by all, I know. In fact, I'm one that frequently takes it for granted myself. I too often assume upon my own father, and even my children (and Victoria and my mother for that matter) that they're there, and that I'm no different than anyone else in the world living in the surrounds of love from above, beyond, within and below. It would be impossible to be always cognizant of those realities. But what really makes those realities a reality is their absence. Then the subconscious rises to the conscious and you miss what you don't have because the once having is now gone. That happens with permanence when we lose someone forever - they're no longer physically present, the comfort that they were once here if even only at a distance. That also happens when they're temporarily gone, hoping in the back of our minds that we'll one day be reunited, if just only for a moment. I, like most of us, have experienced both continuums, with the later being preferable because hope still remains.

But, what if you're among the fatherless that never knew their father? Or, what if you're among the childless because you never had a child but desired one, or worse yet, lost the child you once had? Where's the hope then? I'm afraid that's the plight of far too many to comprehend... hopelessness beyond hopelessness. The thought almost brings me to tears just typing this. But what should bring me to tears even more is the fatherless estate of us all, the reality that all are wayward prodigals, running away without ever being consciously aware that we had a Father in the first place, all along and from the beginning. Yet He desires that we be reunited, and not just for a moment, but forever. It's there that all hopelessness is dashed, and the culmination of all those conscious and subconscious desires to experience what it truly means to be a part of a family are realized once and for all. That day is one day coming for me, I'm confident beyond hope.

I experienced a small foretaste of that heavenly hope this Father's Day when for the first time Victoria and I were reunited with all our children from all over the world under one roof at one time. Austin and Meagan were in from Colorado, Annie was home from college, Barret's on summer break, and all three of our appointed children from China were secure in a home they can now call theirs. We've longed for that day for a long time, and it made my Father's Day a perfectly complete Father's Day. And someday I will be as they were that day, a child under the banner of a Father's Day beyond any Father's Day, when Jesus calls all who bow to Him now to enter into His eternal rest.

Now, finally, we can change the picture header of this blog (as soon as someone shows us how) with a glimpse toward fulfillment, serving as a reminder of what's yet to come.

A father under the Father,

Photo Post

We haven't posted pictures in a long time. You may recall that our iMac hard drive crashed a few months ago and it just hasn't been quite the same around the house since. Hard to believe just how dependent we are upon these technological wonders. Now that we're getting back up and running, we thought it might be fun just to share a few updated shots.

There's just something about this little Poppy flower-girl that slays us. She's far from perfect, but most everything she does sort of melts our hearts. She's picked up on the Chinese victory signal and is taking after here big sister now.

Victoria probably won't like that I pulled this photo out of the memory card and plopped it in here, but I think she's so beautiful, even after mothering six children. You should see her heart.

Our Willow-tree remains anything but sedentary. Here we were at one of the kids end-of-the-year school events trying to keep her contained (we call it "Willow-Containment"). She's now three and a half years old, but her petite frame and high-pitched, slurred speech cause most to guess that's she's only two.

Austin & Meagan seem to make it back out to California at least once a month these days because they're attending so many of their friends' weddings. They always work hard to spend a night or two at our house. Only problem is they always have to sleep on a twin trundle bed because that's the only room we have. Here we're honoring their first wedding anniversary. Aren't they cute?

My Mom & Dad wanted so bad to meet their new granddaughter, so they drove all the way out from Las Vegas to see Piper. They all immediately loved each other. Of course, Piper is so easy to love, but then again I think my parents are too. God bless em'. "Nice victory sign, Mom!"

Barret's growing up to be "so tall and stylish", as they say in the movie Anne of Green Gables. Here he is with his Grandma. We think they're pretty cute together too.

Willow knows how to sucker anyone into swooning over her. She's quite the charmer, and my Dad falls for her hook, line and sinker every time. Only it's no act..., they love each other a lot.

Chinese hot-pot (almost like a fondue) has got to be the some of the best food ever. The only problem is that there are usually endless supplies of it and we almost always gorge ourselves when we eat it. Here Annie and Piper are preparing to pop their stomachs.

It's not easy getting all of us together at one time. Barret took this picture in San Luis Obispo while Austin and Meagan were in Colorado. Annie found a way to break away from studies for a little while to join us on this Spring Break vacation.

Well, that's it for now. Good to have the camera back and loading again. More posts to follow.

Warmly in Christ,

Full Souls That Fill Souls

Traveling out of town has put a damper on my creativity, not to mention my time to sit down and write. I miss it so.

Two weeks ago I had two nights and three days away from the family, which seemed like an eternity. My days on the road are jam-packed, so there's little time to think about much of anything but work. However my mind still occasionally wanders onto other things, especially family, even in the midst of such a hectic pace. These momentary thoughts of bliss are easily crushed when I'm outside of my comfort zone. Everything that still needs to get done while away is piling up. The load seems to get heavier so that by the time I return, as much as I want to enjoy the moment, I'm distracted by what needs to happen. This is a sad affair because where I really want to be I am, but then again I'm not. And where my family really wants me to be I am, but I'm not.

There is one thing, one moment that always seems to bring my heart calm. It never fails. In the still of the early morning, after my shower and the first sip of fresh "joe", I love the quiet of sitting in a chair and reading my Bible. I've gotten into this new habit, perhaps it's just a fad, of transcribing the Scriptures into composition notebooks, much like the old fashioned ones I used in college for essays and open ended exams. They haven't really changed much over thirty years. I figure that if I keep up the same slow pace I'm going right now I'll have written the Bible myself in about 10 to 15 years. The best thing about this painstaking slow pace is the painstaking slow pace - I now see things I've never seen before in the Bible, almost like a magnifying glass highlighting in bold print truths I've read and known but glanced over as if they're just words. Now those same words have illumination, and I see more of the majestic wonder of the Author. This discipline has rejuvenated my time with God in the morning, and fueled me for my day. I carry a grain of truth with me wherever I go, allowing it to feed me until the plate is clean and I'm ready to put my head on the pillow at the end of a long day.

This is all fine and dandy, but for the fact that it feeds my soul only, and not the souls of others. Victoria and I went out for a bite to eat together the other night just to be alone (we're finding it very difficult to capture those moments these days), and we sat there eating sushi without saying a whole lot to each other, at least for the first ten to fifteen minutes or so. Then we got onto the topic of raising these three girls from China, and our last year at home with Barret, and asking ourselves what we'd do differently this time. Without meaning to, or without intentionality I should write, Victoria shared an observation with me. All that wonderful Bible nourishment I receive each day seems to, as I stated above, feed my soul but not the rest of the family's. Here's the deal: I haven't lead my family in devotion to God with the same passion that I've led my own soul in devotion to God. We pray at mealtimes, make a few references to God and Jesus from time to time throughout our days, but that might be the entire gist of it all. Pretty pathetic if you asked me, and I needed to hear this from my loving wife. She's told me this before, and my usual reaction is to feel bad and then just fall back into my same ole patterns of taking care of me, but not the rest of us. I'm sure my older children can give testimony to this.

So here's the question: Why do I do this? I'm really asking the question to you readers out there, whoever is left. And if you're out there and you experience what I experience, what have you done to successfully combat this? I know most Blog readers are women, but even so, what have your husbands done?

I'm turning this Blog around this time and asking for help. I want to be to my family what I am to myself. I want to give the passion I have for Jesus to the one's I love most. I don't know what's wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it. I'm not looking for platitudes, but for real, genuine and transparent effects that have changed your heart and soul. Would you help me help my family?

A full soul that needs to fill souls,

Swimming Upstream

Our post two days ago was the precursor to what God has always laid upon our hearts about how we should expend our lives, but never put into writing quite this way. So here's a church newsletter article I recently wrote that we'd like to post here in this blog.

"Upstream in calm, crystal pure pools, nascent salmon minnow lurk about in bone chilling temperatures. But to the tiny aquatic vertebrate it feels like a warm bath, the perfect equilibrium between new formed scales and water. Alas she cannot stay here for she must drift downstream, undergo bodily transformation, smolt, and live most her life in the expanse of the ocean. Although those waters are brackish, sustenance is abundant and the boundaries are limitless.

But something inside of her eventually calls her back to her roots. She’s instinctually drawn to her place of birth in order to give birth. Like mass to gravity, the pull is irresistible. However the trek home is anything but like what she initially experienced when venturing out into that uncharted abyss. She must this time swim upstream, perhaps hundreds of miles, in the same watercourse she first found consoling but now present the most death defying obstacles of life.

The journey seems absolutely impossible. There’s acclimatization from saline to fresh H2O. There are jagged rocks, crushing waterfalls, and swift driving rapids that must either be herculean hurdled or prodigiously pressed through. Starvation, exhaustion and lacerations bring the fish to the brink of death, all the while, and unbeknownst to the salmon, her flesh is turning from a luminous pink to a radiant snow white. With unflinching perseverance, she amazingly reaches her destination never to return from whence she came. Now she satisfyingly spawns that life may continue from her sacrifice. It cost all she had - her life. Such was her destiny, and the seemingly impossible was somehow miraculously possible.

There’s a lot of swimming upstream for us Christians - a lot of 'impossibilities' out there. This should come as no surprise. Jesus said that, 'In the world you have tribulation' (John 16:33b). These are life’s raging rapids and perilous fish ladders of stress, physical suffering, broken hearts and the like. Thus is the nature of existing in a warped world. We live in an expanse, much like the salmon in the briny sea. Yet we are not of it, much like those same salmon from the fresh water river. We are 'those who reside as aliens, scattered throughout…' the world, '… chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, by the sanctifying work of the Spirit, to obey Jesus Christ and be sprinkled with His blood' (I Peter 1:1b-2a). Hence our destiny, living the seemingly impossible through the One who makes it possible, all the while drawing notice to the miraculous possibility-Maker who has overcome the world.

But He who first made life here possible is the same one who seems to convey that life beyond is also impossible. Jesus appears to leave little room for coasting downstream to get there, perched in the comfort of this world. 'He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it to life eternal' (John 12:25), said the Master. '… sell all that you possess and distribute it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me' (Luke 18:22b), He tenderly instructed the rich, inquisitive young man. 'If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me' (Luke 9:23b), was Jesus’ 'dead-man-walking'directive to His best of friends.

Life here most certainly does seem impossible at times, the travails overwhelming. And life beyond? Why utterly unattainable. It’s the upstream struggle of swimming into eternity, the starvation and exhaustion of wholly letting go of our lives with resolute persistence to the very end. Jesus’ closest and most intimate friends eventually concluded with exasperation, 'Then who can be saved?' (Luke 18:26b)

If we stopped with the disciples’ question, then hopelessness is all we’re left with. There’s no sense making the voyage, and we might as well just float in our world out there and soak it all in while we can. But Jesus leaves his friends, and us, with hope. In fact, it’s extraordinary hope. Except it’s hope not found here, but there. He makes this abundantly clear when He gazed into their eyes and replied, 'With men it is impossible, but not with God; for with God all things are possible.' (Mark 10:27b) However it will cost something. In fact, it will cost everything. For our Creator the price was His prize, the Son. To the contrary for us the price is free, for 'freely you have received' (Matthew 10:8b; cf. Romans 6:23). And now, like the salmon’s skin, sin’s crimson stains are washed whiter than snow. (Elvina M. Hall, “Jesus Paid It All”)

But does the free gift of grace set us free from the cost of even our own lives? Can we now just roam about in this vastness without ever treading upstream to head home? 'Grace alone does everything, they say, and so everything can remain as it was before', sarcastically declares Dietrich Bonhoeffer of many Christians. (“The Cost of Discipleship”) Can this be said of us? How so knowing that Jesus died for all in order that we no longer live for ourselves, but for the One who died and rose on our behalf? What love! From Him, which now controls us. (cf. II Corinthians 5:14-15)

So the course of our love is to leave the known and venture into territory we know will not be at all what we left behind. And to set our course in that direction, upstream if you will and right in the face of peril, requires the impossible of man from the possible God. Selling possessions to give to the poor, abandoning the 'American dream' by leaving homes to rent in 'undesirable' urban neighborhoods, saying goodbye to family to love abroad, forsaking vocational success to increase margins for benevolence, serving the incarcerated, sacrificing vacations to give to the needy, welcoming the homeless, and appearing foolish all for the sake of Jesus that life eternal might proliferate, these are but a drop from the deep of radical possibilities in an impossible world. And when we live this way, in the opposite direction of the world’s current, we 'live a life that demands an explanation' (Francis Chan). And Christian lives that demand explanations can only be explained by one thing, and that one thing is not us. It was never us, but always Jesus, for we are those who '… are His workmanship, created in Jesus Christ for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.' (Ephesians 2:10) If Jesus created us for this, long before we ever basked in that balmy and secluded pool of amniotic fluid, then we can remain '… confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.' (Philippians 1:6)

The water’s cold, the shallows hazardous, the falls crushing, but let’s go swimming anyway… upstream."

Now we Kruggel's need to live these things out even more than how we currently are (or are not). May God shine down upon us and give us strength and faith.

Swimming upstream (or at least desiring to),

The New Middle Road

This post is a precursor to a post I'd like to make in a day or two. I guess I can thank Francis Chan for unknowingly creating this trailer for me (~4:00 minutes long). While somewhat humorous, it's also quite convicting and right in the wheelhouse of where the Spirit is throwing me fastballs:

Desiring to Cross-Bear Behind Jesus,

Nice & New Is Flawed & Fatal

Last weekend Austin & Meagan came home to attend a wedding just north of here. They've had a lot of those lately, weddings to attend that is. We're not complaining because we get to see them when they're in town. They always find a way to spend a night or two at our house, which we love. It's pretty crowded around here when they stay, but we don't mind. We don't think they mind either, but for the fact they have to sleep together in a twin trundle bed (the girl's room) which makes for a really bad night of shut-eye. Never do they gripe about it, but just endure for the sake of having the chance to be together as a family.

On Friday morning Austin and I went out for breakfast and we had a memorable father-son time together. We get those one on one times on the telephone, but they're not the same as being face to face. I sure love that guy. We got to talking about a number of different things, but eventually ended up on the topic of money and ways we should be spending God's resources lavishly poured out on us. My counsel to him was to make sure that he try to find a way to invest into things that constantly starred him in the face and demand sacrifice. Those could reveal themselves in various forms, whether by way of adoption, living in a home and opening it up to others in need to live with you, driving a beat up car knowing you could have a nicer one but using the saved cash to give to the poor, etc... We haven't always lived that example out to our own children, but God's worked on us in our later years and feel He's convicted us in this way, and also changing our living habits.

You know, money was always a hardship for me. Not in the sense that I struggled to get it, but I struggled to let go of it. I've been a hoarder. I remember as a child earning money and never spending it. It made me happy just to have it, but I never wanted to use it on anything. To this day it takes me forever to make a decision about how to spend the money God's given to us. I also always wanted my things to stay perfect. In fact, I'd buy something and not use it because I didn't want it to lose that new look and feel. And you know what else? I've been a poor giver. We have more than we need, but letting go was always a challenge.

But miraculously, and I mean miraculously, He's really released me from this bondage. In fact, I was telling Austin at breakfast that I feel our house is really used up these days. The floors are all scratched from the dog and all the kids, the painted walls are dirty from Poppy and Willow climbing all over them, the cabinet doors are loose from being opened and shut a gazillion times, the grout in the shower is old, stuffs broken, you know... life wears things down. Probably sounds like we live in a beat up old shack, but it's far from that. All of that worn out stuff used to really bother me because I wanted to get it fixed up and look like new again, but now I look at these things and sort of smile inside. Now when I see things tired and beat up, I'm thankful that God's not only given me the gifts, but that they're being used up for something much greater than preservation. The older I get the more I realize that all of my efforts to keep things nice and new are flawed and fatal. These things shall pass, but people using these things will live eternally.

I hope my children are more sacrificial with "their" things than I have been, and will start at an early age learning the age old truth from Jesus Himself, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." (Acts 20:35b)

Giving not to receive,