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,

Regrettably, Sometimes There Are Regrets

The night before last Barret's high school volleyball team won their first round bracket of sudden death elimination in the NCS (North Coast Section) finals. It was a nail-biter and they took best of five games, all the way down to the last. They now advance to the semi-final round and play tonight in Oakland, California. Victoria and I are thrilled because most of our children's sporting teams have typically ended up on the right side of the win-lose column. So this is the thrill of a lifetime for Barret, and he's just beaming with joy. That's the good news.

The sad news is that I missed the game. In fact I've missed many of his games this year. Most have been played on Tuesday's and Thursday's, the same nights that I have obligations at church. I've worked hard to make it to the first game or two of a set on those evenings, but then usually have to quickly run out the door to make it to my other obligation(s) on time. I even showed up to this championship game before anyone else came to tell Barret I love, him, was praying for him and was sorry that I couldn't be there. Then I scooted off to church. Believe me, the tension is always strong, the cognitive dissonance heavy and the guilt high. And now I have a burdened heart and a disappointing countenance because Barret's father missed the game of all games. So what's a dad to do?

I'm not sure I know the right answer to that question, if there is one. God's graciousness to me as a father has permitted me to shepherd for a season these bundles of love while they're in my care. And God's graciousness to me has also permitted to me to shepherd those in His church He calls "My beloved". Hundreds of decisions cross our paths everyday, and we're constantly making choices about what's best. More often than not I am at peace with the decisions to spend time with my bundles of love or His beloved (and even work for that matter), but every once in awhile I look back and have regrets. This decision to miss Barret's game was the right one in both my mind and heart, but I still have regrets. So in a situation like this, I ask God to cover Barret's heart with a shield of understanding that won't allow an arrow of bitterness to pierce through. Likewise, when the tables are turned, I often ask God to cover the heart of His beloved with a barrier of understanding so that roots of bitterness won't sprout through. I believe God can do this and save us all from lifelong heartaches due to "missed opportunities". And I've also asked God to release me from a maligned conscience that might haunt me in days, weeks, months and years ahead.

As with many posts like this, I hope that Barret will one day read it so that the sincerity of my love for him can be expressed and known in more than what I do with him day to day. The heart has deep rivers that are difficult to plumb, but we work hard to expose them for all to see, especially our children.

"Go Barret! I'll see you at the game tonight."