More Than A Season of Summer

The solitude of a warm summer's night walk. Crickets chanting with chirps, frogs frolicking with foibles, deer dancing with deftness, and even bugs buzzing with babbles. It draws me from the depth of the deep.

The girls were running on the green-top of an abandoned tennis court. Pretending to race raggedly from one line to another, neither one caring who "won". The backdrop of a California golden hill with the shadow of a setting sun contrasted the court's surface with perfect artistry. Pitter-pattering of feet was all that could be heard, except the thoughts of my own heart toward God. Surely this puts life in the sweet spot.

Summer's are always a favorite. Clear sky overhead with loose clothing barely touching the skin. There's almost a sense of weightlessness. No constraints except the ones placed there by me. Maybe Fall will never come. But then Victoria would miss her favorite.

Today school started for Barret. Another constraint. Or is it? Must duty always be that way? I think not. The weightlessness of Summer doesn't have to cease. After all, the fullness of life peaks in this season and carries the strength to withstand the hardship of others. Colors change, temperatures drop, and obligations rise, but it's summer that undergirds the rest with assured hope for the next.

Barret's very serious about his studies. College is on the horizon, and he has his mind set on where he wants to attend. Not an easy task; certainly not a shoe-in. The Junior year is a critical one. He's determined, and prouder parents we could not be. The prayer is not only for acceptance, but more that this year would be a full year of summer. Like most, Barret is harder on himself than others are on him. He works tirelessly, which is atypical of summer-time. But the warmth, rest and energy summer affords is what Barret needs in the Fall, Winter and Spring. There is "a season for every activity under heaven". (Ecclesiastes 3:1b) For Barret, may this season under heaven be summer.

Loving the Summer (& Barret),

Tom (& Victoria)

"But Who Can Stand Before Jealousy?"

"Mommy, I'm jealous of that girl." Those were the words uttered by the little Poppy-flower of four and a half years of age just days ago. Viewing a sprouting "virtuoso" piano player, a prodigy of only six years of age on the Internet with Victoria pushed those words out of her mouth. (View for yourself below.)

What boldness! No, what guilelessness. "Impressive", was my first reaction when Victoria told me that story. Especially after Poppy then walked over to our own, almost century old upright piano from my great grandmother and proceeded to try to play on her own. With even more pride she said to Victoria, "I don't think she can do this" as Poppy proceeded to strum her fingers across the ivories from one end of the board to the other. "Oh, and you know what else Momma? Her brother isn't as tall as mine." Of course, who's really considering age, that the gifted piano player's brother was only a few years older than her, and Poppy's are almost 17 and now 24, respectively?

Teaching moments like this only arise when a heart is laid bare and the wickedness to conceal is unformed. Victoria jumped right on it like any good mother would. And what jumped on me was both inspiration and amazement. Oh to be so unassuming and innocently confess what doesn't feel right from the very beginning. That's becoming. And oh to be wracked at four years old with a force that rivals few others, including wrath and anger. "Wrath is fierce, and anger is a flood, But who can stand before jealousy?" (Proverbs 27:4) I'm both proud of Poppy and fearful for her.

I guess some jealousy drove me to a few lofty pursuits, the rewards of which I was immediately pleased with, but the longing for more insatiable. Misdirected pining can sometimes achieve remarkable humanitarian feats. The more remarkable feat is laying down to lift up. God's jealousy is righteous, and Victoria and my prayer for Poppy (and other "K's" from the household) is to steer the gaze away and to Him.

"Poppy, I'm jealous too. I'm afraid our age difference hasn't wiped that away. At least Jesus wiped it away, and His righteousness can become ours."

With Inspiration & Amazement,

Tom (& Victoria)

Taxi Tips

After just recently returning from a business trip to Seattle, I can't help but ruminate on some anecdotal life-tips received from a taxi driver that drove me back to the airport Tuesday night (I wrote them down as soon as I got out of the cab). I love riding in taxi's because I engage in deep conversations that otherwise wouldn't happen were it not for the confined space and time a taxi cab and its ride affords. Some of my most profound encounters with strangers occur in taxi cabs; maybe it's because I feel freed to pursue personal convictions of others knowing that I'll probably never see them again in my life. (After writing that last sentence I realize my logic is embarrassingly flawed, weak and elementary. The same freedom I feel in taxi cabs is the same freedom I should experience in everyday life.)

Exuding a very jovial aura, I asked my cab driver what made him so happy. He responded in his strong Indian accent by saying that he possesses very little, and therefore is very rich in life. Probing a little further, I asked him to explain himself. He said, "Look, if you want to help beggars, stop looking for them on the street corners, because they're usually the ones that ride in my taxi cab dressed in Hugo Boss suits. They have everything, but possess nothing. The reason they're beggars is because what they have cannot satiate their constant hunger for more. So, they beg, beg, beg and beg, and then beg for more. They're never really secure."

So he teed it up nicely for me to toss my next query his way. I wondered what he meant by security, and he explained it like this, "Most people think that if they plan, purchase and pursue they'll find security that will carry them safely into old age. The only problem is that their pursuit makes them insecure, never achieving real security." I asked him if he felt secure, and he said, "Yes, because as soon as you realize that you cannot attain security you find real security."

Coming full circle, I said to him, "So you're rich in your poverty, and you're secure in your insecurity. Am I understanding you correctly? Is this what makes you happy?" He answered, "Yes, but it's not just that. I've learned that if you do exactly the opposite of what the world tells you to do, you'll find true happiness and fulfillment in life." In response, as I reached into my pocket for some money to pay him for his 20 minutes of service and entertainment, I said, "It's interesting that Jesus said some of these very same things. The difference is that richness, security and the pursuit of happiness are not found in the living out of these paradoxes, but rather in the living within them through the One that points us to God. In other words, my friend, Jesus already lived these truths to kill our pursuit in order to find the One that will lead us to life divine. Think about that."

Amazing how close most of us are to the Kingdom.

Waiting for my next taxi,

Tom

All Is Not Always Well

Life has a way of cruising along and all is well, and then it throws you a curve ball. You never quite know when it's coming, but right about the time you realize it's on its way it's across home plate and you didn't even have enough time to get into a stance. This is particularly true when someone in your family who's almost always healthy isn't feeling well, especially when it's one of your parents. Then, all of the sudden, all is not always well.

My Dad hasn't been feeling so hot lately, but I didn't know how badly until I called home the other evening and my parents didn't answer the phone. I figured they were out to dinner or something, only to get a call the next day from my Mom that Dad was in the hospital for some strange condition I'd never heard of. He's now home and is better than before, but is still extremely fatigued.

I wouldn't normally post about something like this, but felt I wanted to journal the off-balance and catawampus feelings I experience whenever someone close to me gets ill. My emotions are no different than anyone else's, I'm sure, but it's a strange and uncomfortable phenomenon that must be dealt with.

It's not natural that people, family members get sick. We were not created for this, but to live eternally without blemish or hardship. So it's natural that it feels unnatural. And it's particularly unnatural when it's one of your parents because no matter how young or old you are you always think of Mom and Dad as invincible. Whether my children realize this or not about Victoria and me, it's probably true for them as much as it is for me with my parents. I pray often for a long and healthy life; not for my benefit, but for theirs, especially the little ones. Moms and dads represent a strong sense of security in life, regardless of whether you're physically close in proximity or not. I'm glad God created us this way because it's a magnetic pull to find security in Him, the one who will never grow old, never grow weary and never fail. And since I'm (we're) created to find security in those who care for us most, our world is shaken when they are not feeling the way that you've always known or envisioned them to be. This is all the more reason why all children need mommies and daddies. They need that peace, that sense of belonging that can only come with parents. That's why, among so many reasons, Victoria and I believe in adoption. 

So tonight, and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that I'm praying for my Dad (and my Mom too). I've always prayed for them everyday, but at times like this I pray even harder, more passionately, and with deeper conviction. This too is a good thing because it raises the level of appreciation to where it should always be sustained. And it's another reminder to me that I need thank God for being God, His eternal care over my soul and the security and rest I find in Him.

"So, Dad, I know you're probably going to read this, and that's O. K. I write because I love, and I love because..., well, just because; I can't help it. Victoria is praying too, as are all of your grandchildren (and there's a lot of em' out comin' out of this household). Thank you to you and Mom for making me feel so secure; and thank you for helping me see the inseparable security the Father gives, whether you realized you were pointing me to Him or not.

I love you.  All really is well,

Tom (& Victoria, & Austin, & Meagan, & Annie, & Barret, & Poppy, & Willow)"

Blue Washcloth/White Washcloth

What is it about wanting whatever the other person has even though what you have is precisely the same but for maybe one minor variation? We want what we cannot have, only to find out that when we get what we want it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The greatest satisfaction comes from merely having it, knowing that the other person does not. That's ugly.

The other evening I was giving the girls their routine tubby and decided to momentarily step out of the bathroom to grab something. No sooner had I left the room when I heard the girls screaming in unquestionable frustration. I hurried back into the bathroom to find them bickering over a washcloth. Poppy had a blue one and Willow had a white one; but Poppy wanted the white one even though they were both the same size, shape, age, softness, etc... Willow seemed to have a glean in her eye as she peered over at Poppy knowing she had something Poppy wanted. (I don't remember getting that worked up over washcloths when I was their age, although I do remember taking joy in having something my siblings wanted.) Rather than try to reason with the girls I quickly opened the cupboard drawer and found another identical white washcloth to the one Willow had. I then handed it to Poppy. All was now well in the world as they both possessed a piece of white, wet fabric they could hold up to their bodies. I then made them put the washcloths down, look at each other, tell one another they were sorry for getting angry, hug and then kiss. Seeing those two little naked bodies hold one another and whisper into each other's ears was a pretty sweet sight.

Victoria and I are trying to teach the girls what's ours is yours and what's yours is ours. It's hard when Poppy thinks that almost everything is hers, even when it was originally given to Willow. The easy thing to do is just buy two of everything. For example they both each have a little red tricycle, but one has a basket on it and the other doesn't. Of course, guess which one they both want? One thing that's impossible to buy two of is mommies and daddies, especially mommies. There's a real nasty "jealous bug" (that's what we call it in our household) that comes out of its cocoon every time one of the girls receives attention from Momma and the other doesn't. It's especially active in the early morning right after everyone wakes up from a long night's sleep and wants a snuggle. I don't know how Victoria does it, but she manages to spread herself in ways that eventually satisfies both girls.

Lot's of patience, lots of discipline, lots of forbearance, lots of training, and lots of love go a long way. The hard part is that it takes so stinking long to get there. That's where vision comes into play. If we cannot keep our eye on the long of the short of it, we're doomed. The immediacy of the here and now is not where the reward lies (although sometimes it peaks its head up every once in awhile for us to see).

Quite frankly, I'm with Poppy and prefer the white washcloth too because when I look at it and see how dirty it is, it's a reminder just how deep the stains are and just how much of the filth has been removed.

Scrubbing Away,

Tom (& Victoria)

"I Wish I Were A Grown Up"

My dear little Poppy-Seed:

Last night we had such a wonderful time together as a family (you, me, Mom, Barret, Annie, Willow, Brian, and eventually Kristen). We went for a summer-evening swim, strolled back through the neighborhood with your little sister facing you in your red wagon under tow by your Dad, barbecued some incredible Mediterranean shish-kabobs, listened to Greek music over the stereo speakers pumped into our backyard, ate an incredible meal together, laughed, enjoyed a gourmet dessert, sat around the fire-pit and talked, and then called it a night. As I laid in bed next to you gazing into your forlorn face because you couldn't stay up with us any longer, you said to me, "Dad, I wish I were a grown up."

I know how you feel, Sweetie, and I used to feel the same way when I was a child. Seems like adults get to do all the fun stuff; stay up late, go to college, get married, play sports, drive cars, eat and drink whatever they want, use big words, laugh about things that don't make sense, and tell little children what to do. There were so many things I wanted to say to you last night in response to your statement, but it was too late in the evening (way past your bed-time), and as smart as you are I'm afraid you wouldn't completely understand it all. So let me just write a few things to you that I would have said under different circumstances. Maybe you'll read this one day and then appreciate what it means to be young and old, and all the in between.

"Be careful what you wish for:

• To be a child and have faith like a child are highly esteemed in God's economy. There are some aspects of being a child I hope you never rid yourself of, even into your oldest of age.
  
• To be a child and receive care like a child are highly esteemed in most any economy. There will never be another time in your life on this earth where you need not concern yourself with food, clothing, warmth, covering, and most of all whether there's anyone on this planet that truly loves you.
• To be a child and possess naivety like a child are highly esteemed in your Mom's and my economy. For now, you're sheltered from much of the evil in this world and your innocence is virgin. There will come a day all too soon when that starts to get chipped away.

• To be an adult and think like an adult is highly esteemed in an adult's economy. But with that comes all the complexities of unanswerable questions and pondering. Ultimately, you must fall on your face and cry out to God who has all of the answers, but may not choose to let you in on all of His secrets until you meet Him face to face.
• To be an adult and work like an adult is very fulfilling..., fulfilling indeed, especially because that's the way God created us to live and is, therefore, also highly esteemed in His economy. However, danger is right around the corner when you live to work thinking that in working and then accumulating, fulfillment has achieved its end. The end is in Jesus.
• To be an adult and know the ways of the world like an adult create knowledge, and hopefully wisdom, and are highly esteemed in the world's economy. But with that runs the risk of discouragement if you embrace the world as your home. Start getting truly homesick early in life; it will help you cling to that which will never let you go."
  

There's more my little Pop-Tart, my Yao Qiao-girl. Let's save those, and even these, for a day later in life when we can go for a long walk with your mother in a secluded place and search the things of God together.

I love you,

Daddy

What We Need vs. What We Want

One of the greatest fears I have as a father, and I know that Victoria shares in this fear as a mother, is whether I'll be able to give all of my children what they need of me. That's different that what they want of me. If I go to my grave thinking that any of my children needed more than I gave, then I think I'll go as a sorrowful man, but for the eternal life I have in Jesus. The demands of life, the pressures of work, the routines of the ordinary, and the needs of each individual family member (not to mention the needs of extended family, work associates, etc...) pull on a father (and a mother) to such a degree that there's almost always cognitive dissonance. I don't want my children resenting the passions that drive my desire to love and serve Jesus, and yet at the same time I want them to see that sacrifice is required of all, including them and me. These diametrically opposed drives constantly pull at my psyche, sometimes to the point where I almost feel sick to my stomach. It's not constant, nor is it really that often, but lately I've gone through one of those seasons and I find myself praying more, preaching to myself more, and trying more to be a father to all of my children in the ways that they need me most. Of course, being a good husband to Victoria is an even stronger pull for me, so that dynamic also comes into play here. None of this is a bad thing.

I guess where I'm going with all of this right now is that I need to come to grips with the truth of leaving and cleaving (for Austin and Meagan, of course), and with the truth that for me to live is for me to die. My life in Jesus and the pursuit of my relationship with Him comes at an earthly cost, and I want my children to see, know and experience that losing this life for the sake of life eternal brings greater joy than all the riches, fame, and family this life could offer. For me, I'm finding that it's costing me more and more all the time. I find myself looking back over my shoulder after plowing the field, and then in that process creating crooked lines that are not becoming of a good steward. The focal point of my vision has got to remain fixed on Jesus, and in that pursuit I pray my children will have the same vision.

This world is a crazy place, especially in America. I have too many distractions; material things, Blackberries, vacations, retirement, etc... They're all becoming very distasteful to me as I see that I've taken the lure and it's reeled me in. None of this is bad, per se, but I've pursued them at the expense of a higher pursuit for Jesus. I want nothing more than to let these things go in my heart. I may enjoy them, but I may not elevate them over Jesus. I'm having to let go of a lot of things these days; this is healthy.

It's hard crucifying your old passions, but the joy that comes with it is immea- surable. May my children know and love that which is much greater than anything I could possibly give them. If they had that, I'd go to my grave a happy and fulfilled man.

Letting Go In Christ,

Tom (& Victoria)

Is the Glass Half Empty or Full?

I'm one that is usually a little more naturally inclined to look at the dark side of things rather than the bright side, the bad over the good, the "glass-is-half-empty" phenom- enon over the "glass-is-half full" phenomenon. It's one of those things, among so many, that I really don't like about myself. I have friends and family in my life that help balance me out and push me to see the opposite paradigm. Thank God for them.

When it comes to mankind, I hear and read about so much wickedness in the world. Everywhere I turn it haunts me like a frightening ghost. I don't fully understand it all, and must fall to my knees and cry out to God who is infinitely wise. He alone is all knowing, and He alone can supply peace in the midst of the confusing, the abstract and the unknown.

Poppy and Willow helped me see the good side of things just the other day, which gave me a slight glimpse into the nature of God. Victoria and Kristen (Meagan's sister living with us for the summer) went to a women's Bible study the other evening. As they left the house to go to the hosting home, Poppy became so morose. Her love for and attachment to her mother is so overwhelmingly strong that it's almost impossible to describe. It's something that has to be witnessed. So I decided that in order to cheer her up I'd take the girls for a long walk up the hillside to watch the sunset. It was a beautiful evening and God's glory was out in radiant display. We talked off and on about God's artistry, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Poppy to stop thinking and talking about Victoria. About every five to ten minutes or so she'd get those pitiful alligator tears streaming down her rosy, plump cheeks. I attempted with all my heartfelt emotion to encourage her that Momma would be home soon, but that didn't seem to comfort her. She said to me on a couple of occasions, "Daddy, I just can't help the tears. They keep on coming no matter how hard I try to stop." This almost brought me to tears too, so I sat on the ground, held her in my lap with her special pink "blankie", and just rocked her. She seemed to settle down a bit. In the midst of all the commotion Willow just kept looking at Poppy and then looking over at me and saying, "Wheelo haaappie".

Poppy's love for her Momma is a naturally good thing. Where did that come from? It's designed and created within her. Willow's desire to smooth things out so others are not sorrowful is a good thing. Where did that come from? It's designed and created within her. At their age they didn't connive and craft a manipulating scheme to get my attention or to foster peace. I'm well aware of their natural tendency to transgress, but experiencing this encounter with them on Wednesday night prompted me to thank God for His perfectly orchestrated image found in every human being. While that goodness is never enough to put us in perfect stead with God (cf. Romans 3:10-18), it is enough to reflect His glory.

In spite of the sadness of the evening, it was satisfying to see the magnificence of God's design in the midst of it all. These girls continue to push all of us older Kruggel's to places we use to enjoy but lost before Poppy and Willow were found. Momma eventually came home and all was well once again in the Poppy-fields.

Seeing the Glass Half-Full,

Tom (& Victoria)

30 Years Later

Thirty years ago this very summer I walked toward a wood paneled cabin built on stilts in the Redwood and Ponderosa Pines of Mount Hermon and was enraptured by a beautiful young lady standing on the porch. She introduced herself to me as Vicki Tholen from Seattle, Washington. And that was the genesis of a formation designed by God that has grown into our own Redwood version of a strong, towering tree providing nourishment and shelter not only to one another, but to all those seedlings He's placed in our care.

Last night we returned from a week long family camp at Mount Hermon that was now our seventeenth consecutive year of vacationing there. Victoria and I can easily keep count because she was pregnant with Barret that first summer we drove up from Redondo Beach, California to enjoy the nostalgia of our courtship. Austin, Annie and Barret all have such fond memories of summer vacations at Mount Hermon, always begging and pleading to return as we drove out of the driveway to head back home each time we spent a refreshing week there. And now Poppy has been there three summers in row, and Willow twice. They, too, are developing strong bonds and attachments to this place we like to think of as hallowed ground. In fact, Poppy remarked as we were driving down the hill out of the camp, "I'm sad to leave Mount Hermon." We all know how she feels.

It was an exceptional week for Victoria, Barret, Poppy, Willow and me. It did seem a little incomplete and odd in a strange way not to have Austin (& Meagan) and Annie there. (Both Austin and Annie have worked there in recent summer's past.) The teaching was awesome, the food abundant, warm and tasty, and the weather breathtakingly perfect. There's so much to write about and tell that it simply cannot be captured here.

I will share one tender moment (among o' so many) I had with Poppy while I was trying to put her to bed one evening early in the week. The girls were pretty wound up about being at Mount Hermon, so getting them to sleep those first few nights wasn't a simple task. As I laid there on the bed with Poppy and the dusk light was just about to vanish, she softly said to me, "Daddy, I don't like the dark-time; it makes me sad." "What about it makes you so sad, Sweetie?", I asked. "It's just that everything has to come to an end", said Poppy. I had to stop and think for a moment because I knew this was a tender teaching time that would have either been lost forever or seized upon to impart what little wisdom I possessed. So I said to her, "Sweetie, it's not the end, it's actually the beginning. And just think, God can speak to you all night and give you enough rest so that tomorrow is even more exciting than today."

She seemed to be comforted by that, but her momentary sorrow did get me to start thinking. Because I know Poppy, I happen to also know that she's a bit afraid of the dark, which contributed to her hesitation to close her eyes and fall asleep that night in a new and strange surrounding. I know how she feels (most of us were probably afraid of the dark when we were little). Darkness is nothingness. We all went on a train ride this week into Santa Cruz (departed from Mount Hermon) and we eventually ended up in a tunnel that was several hundred meters long. By the time we got to the middle of the tunnel you could not see the entrance or the exit, so it was pitch black. There was no perspective or sense of dimension whatsoever. What is that? It's nothingness. It's alone-ness. That's a scary place to be. Knowing that we'd eventually get to the other side and greeted by towering Redwoods gave comfort. But what if we were trapped in that tunnel for awhile? What if we were trapped in darkness for a lifetime, or an eternity?

Poppy (or Willow) doesn't need to be alone, left in the dark. None of us do. Jesus said, "I am the light of the world; he who follows me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life." (John 8:12b) Because we've been shown the light which brightens our paths, we can now follow with the light of life. And once we possess that light of life, we become light ourselves because Jesus said that, "You are the light of the world." (Matthew 5:14a) And there's nothing Victoria and I want more than for our children to have the light of life. This I would have loved to have shared with Poppy that evening, but couldn't think that quickly. I hope to have it on the tip of my tongue the next time she expresses her sorrow over the darkening of the night.

Refreshed in Jesus,

Tom (& Victoria)

Another Great Article

How often do we as Christian parents consider that our work, our labor and our love of child-rearing is Kindgom-work? Parenting is the typical course of life for many (although not all), but most parents (like me) are often swallowed up by the routine necessities of survival, so it's difficult to contemplate the longer-term vision and purpose of why we do what we do. But those routine necessities are gospel-izing privileges to train up our children that they too might draw more into the Kingdom, and even perhaps pursue a life calling that would reap a crop of 100's, 1,000's and maybe even 10,000's for Jesus' sake and God's glory. It's critical that I frequently step back and examine the eternal purpose of what we do as parents, and I remind Victoria (and she reminds me) that it's a good work, honorable and pleasing to the Father. This article (click on link below) is a good read about this very subject matter.

http://www.seriouslifemagazine.com/default.asp?index=6

What I appreciated most about this article is not just the helpful touchstone that what I/we do as parents is eternal, but also that we can use our home as a training ground for missional work both locally and abroad. It's helped me re-think how we as a family spend our time, money and gifts.

"The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers in His harvest field." (Matthew 9:37b-38)

Warmly in Christ,

Tom

Father's Day

I love Father's Day. I love it because it reminds me that there's good purpose, good fruit in living out a common, behind-the-scenes life that propagates God's perfect design. Fatherhood is noble work that's somewhat relegated as of lesser importance in the scheme of our American culture. Manhood and success are often measured in so many other ways that require quick returns and immediate satisfaction. Being a parent necessitates stamina, long-suffering, patience, vision and tenacity, not to mention immeasurable amounts of love while expecting nothing in return. Sometimes however, in fact oftentimes, the returns are abundant, and they seem to rise to the top on Father's Day. These are things I had the privilege of reaping that day when I opened the various cards my kids gave to me and read them (from Austin, Meagan, Annie & Barret):

• "... your wisdom, compassion, and gentleness are an example to me...",
• "... you're my faithful friend, hero, and role model."
• "You have... put me and others before yourself."
• "I feel like I'm the luckiest son in the world..."
• "I love you so much..."

Poppy & Willow also wrote some things, but they were illegible. (Pretty cute!)

I suppose one might read this and think it's rather self-inflating. O' to the contrary, it's quite humbling. I write these things because they bring joy to my heart, but also because I want my children to read them, cherish them, and also know that I treasure them in my heart even though I don't often feel any of them in my common routine of life. It's so nice to be reminded from to time that good things are happening. I need to hear and read these things, and my children need to express them.

My Father's Day last week was a sweet, non-eventful gathering of all who could be there, even Kristen (Meagan's sister now living with us for the summer). Calls from Annie and Austin were wonderful gifts and served as second-best to being there in person. I love my kids so much that I felt myself on the verge of tears throughout the day. After hanging up the telephone with Austin in the early afternoon I just couldn't help myself and had to shed a few in the presence of Victoria and Barret. Tears of joy, of course, that led to a cause for thankful prayer to my Father who desires to hear these same expressions of gratitude and praise from me more often than I do. "Thank you, kids, for your kindheartedness and for reminding me of who I am in Christ and what I am to the Father."

I Love You, Kids!

Dad/Tom

Do I Ever Really Sacrifice?

I was recently contemplating the whole concept of "sacrifice" and what it really means. One of the ways that I process things is to just start writing because I feel I can better express the content of my heart in written form over that of verbal. The one person on this earth that knows me best is Victoria, so I decided I'd text (e-mail on Blackberry) this long-winded stream of consciousness about my rumination on sacrifice:

Honey,

I've been thinking a lot lately about sacrifice. What is it and am I experi- encing it? To me (and I should really do some Biblical research on this before I start blabbering like this) it's willingly giving up something of value in exchange or for the benefit of another. Of course, that's what Jesus did when He was crucified on our behalf, and what made His sacrifice so pure (aside from the fact that He was and is perfectly holy) was His motive of love.

So I've had to ask myself, "Am I sacrificing anything in this life as I understand that term to mean?" What I have, what I possess doesn't, and never did, belong to me. I may enjoy the benefits of it, but I have no ownership of it. My life was purchased; I don't belong to myself. Likewise I am also married to you; I belong to you. So I start my reasoning off on the foundation that to give something up one must possess it. And since I don't possess anything, I never really sacrifice in the strictest sense.

However, I have been given stewardship of certain things that bring me great joy, happiness, fulfillment and peace. Those very same things also bring me some sorrow, pain and suffering (although hardly) from time to time. If I give my gifts back to the Giver, am I sacrificing? I don't think so. I'm starting to think that I never sacrifice nor will I ever be asked to sacrifice because I'm returning things to their rightful Owner.

When I think I'm sacrificing I fall into the pit and trap of thinking more of myself than I should, which includes pity parties, self-elevating thoughts and prideful idolatry. That then can also lead to discontent, woeful sadness and discouraged depression. What's lacking when I go there? Love! Love for Jesus and His bride! And yet I have the opportunity to possess and express the very same and powerful love myself because He poured it all out and upon my head. I'm covered in it; it's dripping off my flesh. But I walk around sometimes like it's all a dried up scab. And why do I do that? Because my motive is impure. I want something from my "sacrifice". I want approval, I want attention, I want reward, and I want justification. That's not love, that's loveless.

There are a few things God's given me that I'll never, ever be asked to sacrifice. Among many they include my salvation, my faith, my grace, and I'm beginning to think most-of-all my joy. The first three things I think I have little control over because they'll never be snatched from me. But joy? It gets snatched all the time. And I let it happen because I quickly forget the same things I'm writing and preaching to myself here; that I own nothing and I'm saturated in love.

So why am I writing this stream of consciousness to you? Because I love you so much and no one on earth knows me better than you. I also write these things because I need to process and think, and this helps. But most of all I write because we cannot ask another to sacrifice on behalf the other. That conviction must come from within and for the benefit of the one being sacrificed for, and in our cases it must always be for Jesus. I don't want to carry the burden of putting my mantle on the shoulders of another, especially you and our children. And when we do make sacrifices together (as almost all are since we're one), they should come at the expense of nothing, especially joy, and under the umbrella of love for Jesus.

I'm trying to take up my cross daily and follow after Jesus. It's hard work and sometimes downright painful. But what great love we possess to do such great acts of love for Him. Don't let me wimp out. Don't let me take the easy road. Push me Honey, and I want to push you, but let's do it all for one purpose, and that's out of immeasurable love for Jesus.

(Does any of this make sense?)

God help us.

I love you my love,

Anyway, I don't know if any of this resonates, but I'm convicted to sacrifice and provoked to do more. I'm asking the Lord to increase my joy, and shatter my comfort to see His Kingdom flourish and His name rise in fame.

Pondering in Jesus,

Tom

My Ruby Jewel

Twenty-seven years ago today I wed my bride on a gorgeous, uncharacteristically sunny June-day in Seattle. Victoria's grandmother (now deceased) said on numerous occasions that we were a match made in heaven. Although a common phrase, little did she probably know that it was literally a match made in heaven. Our wedding day was also a masterpiece made in heaven. From the stunning Pacific Northwest evergreens accented against the bluest skies you've ever seen, to the graceful ceremony lit by ornamentation and love, there's no doubt in my mind that it was both divinely appointed and orchestrated.

On the eve of Austin and Meagan's recent wedding, my Dad ushered a toast to them (the first among several) that was testimony to love's stamina and growth over years of commitment. My parents, now married well over 50 years, gave rise to my Dad's remarks that love gets sweeter, deeper and better with age. I often heard these kinds of statements when I was younger and would silently ask myself in the back of my mind, "How can that be?" The failure of so many marriages in our culture would naturally cause me, and many of us I suppose, to ponder with some skepticism these types of blanket proclamations. But now being married for about half as much time as my parents, I can understand the truth behind what he said. It's one of those things that just must be experienced in order to validate the axiom. So here I am, probably with more days behind me than ahead of me (but hopefully with more married days ahead of me than behind me), also giving testimony to love's longstanding mystery. Today, 27 years since I held her hand and placed that ring upon her finger, I find myself more anxious to get home to see her than before, more desirous to speak to her than anyone else before, more sorrowful when I cannot spend the night with her than before, and more excited about our future together than before. So how can that be? Because love is not at all what I grew up thinking it was, and so very far removed from what our culture teaches me it is. Love does, and does loves. It's an unbreakable cycle that becomes even more difficult to penetrate with time. If the circle becomes oblique, then it begins to lose the strength of its bond. Our circle keeps getting larger and larger, but only because of one thing, and that's because we have an example becoming reality that penetrates every fiber of our being.

On one of our recent milestone anniversaries (pre-Willow) I gave Victoria a poem that coincided with a ruby ring I also gave to her. When we got married I wanted her wedding ring to be with a ruby stone instead of the traditional diamond. We went the diamond route, but now she has both on her ring finger. This poetic gesture (I don't think I've posted it before) helped me articulate the continuing passion of my heart and how I look up to her:

My Ruby Jewel

My sweetness, my love,
There's little left in words,
That isn't already known.
I'm utterly speechless,
Without words to express my own.

My worst, my best,
You've seen me through both,
And loved me despite.
I've brought sadness and joy,
From wrong and from what's right.

Through it all you’ve stayed true.
You’ve remained the same and never failed.
You are my rock and ruby jewel.
You are a reflection of my Savior;
I pray to be more like you.

Your laughter, your sorrow,
Each from my strengths,
And turning away.
I've led and shirked back,
Sometimes causing us both to fall astray.

Jobs, houses, cars and things,
I've managed to let them distract me so.
They grab hold of the best;
At times I've chosen good things,
Over what only gives eternal rest.

Through it all you’ve stayed true.
You’ve remained the same and never failed.
You are my rock and ruby jewel.
You are a reflection of my Savior;
I pray to be more like you.

Austin, Annie, Barret and Poppy,
They’re our gift and legacy.
We’ve plowed and we’ve tilled.
Now we reap what we sow,
Yet there’s more to be filled.

Our parents are aging,
And one has gone on.
But we still have some,
To love and serve,
Until we all go to where we’re from.

Through it all you’ll stay true.
You’ll remain the same and never fail.
You are my rock and ruby jewel.
You are a reflection of my Savior;
I pray to be more like you.

One score and a half decade more,
A quarter century together,
Our midpoint in life is past.
And now we look back,
All with joy, and few regrets to cast.

It’s far from over, we’ve only begun,
To explore the depths of life,
And holiness to chase.
Let’s always stand together,
And never lose our inseparable embrace.

Through it all let’s stay true.
Remain the same and never fail.
You are my rock and ruby jewel.
You are a reflection of my Savior;
I pray to be more like you.

“An excellent wife, who can find?
For her worth is far above jewels.
The heart of her husband trusts in her,
And he will have no lack of gain.”
My God has given me her for sure.

Through it all let’s stay true.
Let’s remain the same and never fail.
You are my rock and ruby jewel.
You are a reflection of my Savior;
I pray to be more like you.

Happy Anniversary, Victoria.

I love you,

Tom

The Hole In Our Gospel

Victoria recently directed me to an interview published in "Christianity Today" between one of its staff members and Richard Sterns, current President of World Vision and author of a recent book entitled "The Hole In Our Gospel". I've included a hyperlink to that article here (below). I was initially drawn to the piece because of Mr. Sterns' personal testimony of God snatching him from a 23 year career in the corporate world to a mercy ministry that cares for others living in a world that is completely foreign to affluent America. And while that in and of itself is intriguing, what's even more staggering is that "... 26,000 children under the age of 5 die every day of causes related to their poverty." I hear and read these things from time to time, but they sort of become a number, a statistic if you will (sadly and ashamedly I must confess). Read the interview and you'll see how that statistic (one of Stalin's evil strategies to sensitize his atrocities) comes a little closer to life and home because of the way he characterizes the death of a single soul.

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/juneweb-only/123.53.0.html?start=1

While I do not think that Jesus' gospel could ever have a hole in it because it's complete and sufficient in and of itself, I do believe that I (we as a Kruggel family) need to and can do more as a loving response of "faith-works" to the indescribable love Jesus has poured out to us. We only have but a little more than a widow's mite, but I'm prayerful that it will multiply into bag of gold, much like the few fishes and loaves that fed the thousands in the presence of Jesus 2,000 years ago.

Prayerfully in Jesus,

Tom (& Victoria)

A Hug Too, Dadda

I have not done this before, but decided to post one of my routine and personal journal entries (I call them "Grains of Grace" ) on this blog because my sweet little daughter Willow said something to me this morning that melted my heart. What she said and did was perfectly germane to my daily Bible reading and reflections thereupon. I copy and paste below:

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"And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, 'Abba, Father!'" (Galatians 4:6)

I've always loved this verse. It's so sweet. In the recent theme of God teaching me more about my sonship, it's the perfect cherry on top of that heaping dollop of white whipped cream.

"Daddy!" That's who God is to me. Yes He's holy, yes He's righteous, yes He's omnipotent, yes He's on His throne, but He's still and always my Daddy. There's something so tender about that. "Thank you, Paul, for penning these words for me!" And what's even more remarkable about all of this is that God promised me, and also followed through on that promise, His Spirit. If I'm correctly reading the grammar in this verse, it's His Spirit that's crying out on my behalf with the salutation, 'Daddy' (i.e., Abba). Apart from the living, indwelling and active role of the Spirit within my soul, I wouldn't be able to refer to my Father as my Daddy. And for all those who do not possess faith in Jesus Christ, God is not known as their Daddy; He remains unapproachable with an enormous chasm dividing the two of them, carved by the raging rivers of sin. But for me, and others like me who have received by grace the Spirit of Truth, the chasm is bridged with a freeway that gives me direct access to Him; there are no off-ramps or diversions. Who am I to have been given directions and entry onto that one-way on-ramp?

So what do I want to tell my Daddy today (because I can tell Him anything)? The same thing my little Willow-tree said to me this morning as I headed off to work, kissed her and blew a "good-bye" to her, "A hug too, Dadda", she said in her slurred speech. I picked her up, held her, and she gently tapped her right hand on my left shoulder as her head softly rested there. "A hug too, Daddy. Hold me today ever close to You and don't let me go. I lie limp in Your arms knowing I will not be dropped. There's simply no place more secure."'

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That's it! Simple, and not very profound, but a touch from God today.

Warmly in Christ,

Tom

More Change

Family change can be an emotion- ally draining thing, especially for the parents, even when it's all good. This weekend there was a confluence of that for Victoria and me when I first picked up Austin and Meagan at San Francisco International Airport very early Friday morning after their "red-eye" flight back from their honeymoon in Kauai, Hawaii. Their tan bodies and glowing smiles were a sight for any eyes, especially ones that are sore (although ours are not). They dropped me off at my office in the City while they headed back to our house on the East Bay to rest and unwind. Barret was also home as he's now out of school for the year, and Annie was on her way home for the weekend because she needed to attend a wedding nearby. That evening we had all eight (Austin, Meagan, Annie, Barret, Poppy, Willow, Victoria and me) of us in our (what-seems-like) increasingly smaller home for a reunion that we know will be difficult to repeat in the future. A few margaritas, BBQ-ed pork ribs, smashed potatoes (that's we we call em'), and a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies made for full tummies while we reminisced about Austin and Meagan's "wedding of the century" and honeymoon to boot. Thoroughly enjoying that evening sort of caused both Victoria and me to have "out of body" experiences where you can't believe that you're talking to your son who's now no longer one, but two. Although still an individual, we will now think of him as a unit with his love, Meagan. This is a very good thing.

The weekend also highlighted Barret's completion of his Sophomore year of high-school when we received his report card with perfect grades ("We all thank you, God.") and imminent transition into his Junior year. We may only have a little over 24 months left with him in our home. Annie's presence and studies for her finals next week marked the near completion of her Junior year of college and entree into her first (of two) Senior years before she receives her Bachelor's degree. We also moved the two little girls out of their room and into ours so that we could make room for Meagan's younger sister (Kristen) to come live with us for the summer as she participates in a working internship a few miles south of where we live. (She'll move in with us next weekend, and we're so excited to share our lives together for a few months.)

And to top off the weekend, we all went out to dinner last night at the Cheese- cake Factory and jammed into a little booth that made for cozy confines and good conversation. When we got back to the house Austin and Meagan had the challenge of packing all of their wedding gifts (which they opened on Saturday) into their small little Toyota Camry before they headed back to Colorado. Unbelievably, Austin managed to painstakingly and meticulously pack each item so there wasn't a square inch to spare and successfully got it all in there. They were definitely riding a little low this morning as they pulled out of the driveway to start their three-leg trip to Lone Tree, Colorado.

So you see, it is all so very good and certainly as it should be, but the toll on our psyches is a bit much right now. We're trusting that God's perfect design for all of this provides comfort, but most of all will remove some of the sting of life's natural course. I was basking in my own little pity party for a moment yesterday as I contemplated all of this when Annie asked me how I was doing. I told her it was hard to let everyone go, especially not knowing when we would have these kinds of moments to share in again. Austin and Meagan smiled at me and said, "Well it won't be long, Dad, because we're coming back to be in a wedding in early August and need a place to stay, so we're hoping we can do this again then." My countenance was lifted and I'm already eagerly anticipating our next reunion, just two months away.

For now, we release our children again into the hands of our loving God. It seems like we're constantly reminded lately that we need to hold them loosely in the palms of our own hands. I/we do look forward to that day, however, when we'll no longer have to say good-bye to each other.

Lovingly Drained,

Tom (& Victoria)