My role as a parent changes constantly. We assume that will be the case when our children are born. But I’m not sure the concept sinks in until those changes are upon us and we become cognizant of them. So we travel along this parenting journey not always seeing what lies just around the bend ahead, not always noticing that little dip in the road, and not prepared to avoid the hole in the road before us. We are travelers nonetheless and we enjoy this parenting journey, even on the difficult days. Along the journey change most certainly comes and typically requires something of us as parents. Sometimes that change is obvious and requires significant adjustments on our part. At other times that change is subtle and not so demanding.
This week I experienced some of the subtle changes of this parenting journey. I decided to give my son some of the responsibility for mowing our yard. A simple change so it seems. But to me, yielding to our thirteen-year-old the control of my Cub Cadet, with the capacity to run over and shred the small trees and blackberries in our yard, was a change I had missed on the horizon of my parenting journey. His mother encouraged the opportunity. Mother’s always have a hand in this father/son plot and tug-of-war that I have yet to fully comprehend and appreciate.
Since I was pressed for time and the yard needed to be mowed and trimmed before the rains came, I surrendered the driver’s seat. I made a few rounds to mark out the boundaries. Our thirteen-year-old, who it seems only yesterday wasn’t heavy enough to hold the seat down so the tractor didn’t automatically shut off, assumed the controls. After learning what buttons did what and which pedal was forward and which was backward, off he was. He insisted, thank God, that I walk along beside him at first. I patiently—thank God for patience—gave directions. After it appeared he had this mowing thing down, I preceded to my task of trimming.
With an ever watchful eye—knowing his mother would want to know that I was keeping a close watch on her baby boy taking on such a dangerous task and anticipating that I might happen to witness the shredding of my blackberry vines—I kept vigil.
It was difficult not to point out that some of the corners were turned to close and as a result some of the grass was not cut. Obviously a more experienced hand—his father’s specifically—would not have made such a miscue. I gently pointed it out and suggested how he could avoid it. When I finished trimming I fought the urge to say, “Let me finish.” “It will be quicker if I do it,” was my reasoning. But I knew his mother was watching and deep down I knew he had to learn somehow. So I watched and pointed with my walking stick. I had to have control on some level, right?!!
At one point he came to me and said, “Hey, Dad!! I think I just ran over the little pine tree!!” The very pine tree I had trimmed around, pointed out to him, and even put a large stake beside so he could see it. “Yeah, Dad, that pine tree.” I took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to make it anyway. In case you’re wondering, the pine tree survived.
Father and son finally finished the task he needed to learn and the change I needed to navigate. He parked the tractor and shut it off and we walked inside.
I don’t remember how old I was when my dad taught me how to mow the yard. I do remember that there were paths of grass that I missed, small trees I cut down, and times I failed to put the oil plug back in after checking the oil. I remember the time I backed the lawn mower over my grandfathers fence and the time I got in stuck in a ditch, the very ditch my dad had pointed out to me, the very ditch he had told me not to get too close to—that ditch. I remember that it was my mom who came to the rescue that time.
All this reminds me, that for ages, parents have been successfully navigating the changing currents of this parenting journey. There will be more changes; some subtle and some not so subtle. That change is a sign of growth both for son and for dad. Thanks be to God!
Tommy
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Journey
It was on March 25th, 1989, Easter Sunday, that my journey began. On that day that I began serving as a pastor. Twenty years and three churches later that journey continues. I remember some very special days through those twenty years. I recall first Sundays in each of the three churches and the last Sundays in two of them along with countless other special memories simply too numerous to mention. While it’s impossible to write of each of those experiences, some come to mind worth sharing.
During my 5 and ½ years in my first pastorate, Mill Creek in Bardstown, Ky, I recall an Easter Sunday when we baptized seven people. Then there was the 200th Anniversary celebration when a pastor who was there during the 1930’s came back for the special occasion. At First Baptist (Irene Cole Memorial) in Prestonsburg, Ky, where I served for 5 years, I remember the morning a call came from the preschool—a rat was in the toilet (they didn’t teach me about this in seminary!) There was also a surprise birthday party given for me by the church one Sunday evening and some fabulous summer fellowships in the shady parking lot (the fried cod fish was out of this world!) Prestonsburg was our home when both our children were born and dedicated.
The journey continued to Lexington Avenue Baptist in Danville, Ky. That Sunday morning when I preached a trial sermon was one to remember—our three year old son was sick with a high fever and our six month old daughter woke up in the hotel room before 5:00 a.m. At that point there was no question but that all was in God’s hands not mine. I remember the Sunday mornings my children made their professions of faith and were later baptized. With fondness and grateful appreciation I remember the way the church family embraced me following the deaths of each of my parents.
What comes to mind more than anything else through this twenty year journey is not a specific day or event, but specific people. I remember by name people who have made this journey of ministry meaningful and fulfilling; who have been patient with me and have helped me to grow; those who have taken the time to nurture me and pray with me. There names are etched on my heart--Hughley and Inath, Woodrow and Narcie, Mike and Rebecca, Connie and John, Randy and Carolyn. They, and others like them, have enriched this journey in ways that I will not soon forget. Even as I write their names my mind is flooded with memories.
I’m not sure I could have imagined, much less guessed, where this journey would lead that Easter Sunday twenty years ago. The journey has not always been easy—but then again, that’s part of the nature of the journey, isn’t it? But what the journey has been is blessed by the presence of God each day. Sometimes I knew it keenly, other days I seemed to be barely aware. But in reflection, God’s presence was indeed there every day of those twenty years. I wonder . . . is that what Abram felt when God told him to leave the land of his fathers and go to a new land, a land God would show him. I don’t know. But I do know the journey continues and only God knows what lies yet before me.
Tommy
During my 5 and ½ years in my first pastorate, Mill Creek in Bardstown, Ky, I recall an Easter Sunday when we baptized seven people. Then there was the 200th Anniversary celebration when a pastor who was there during the 1930’s came back for the special occasion. At First Baptist (Irene Cole Memorial) in Prestonsburg, Ky, where I served for 5 years, I remember the morning a call came from the preschool—a rat was in the toilet (they didn’t teach me about this in seminary!) There was also a surprise birthday party given for me by the church one Sunday evening and some fabulous summer fellowships in the shady parking lot (the fried cod fish was out of this world!) Prestonsburg was our home when both our children were born and dedicated.
The journey continued to Lexington Avenue Baptist in Danville, Ky. That Sunday morning when I preached a trial sermon was one to remember—our three year old son was sick with a high fever and our six month old daughter woke up in the hotel room before 5:00 a.m. At that point there was no question but that all was in God’s hands not mine. I remember the Sunday mornings my children made their professions of faith and were later baptized. With fondness and grateful appreciation I remember the way the church family embraced me following the deaths of each of my parents.
What comes to mind more than anything else through this twenty year journey is not a specific day or event, but specific people. I remember by name people who have made this journey of ministry meaningful and fulfilling; who have been patient with me and have helped me to grow; those who have taken the time to nurture me and pray with me. There names are etched on my heart--Hughley and Inath, Woodrow and Narcie, Mike and Rebecca, Connie and John, Randy and Carolyn. They, and others like them, have enriched this journey in ways that I will not soon forget. Even as I write their names my mind is flooded with memories.
I’m not sure I could have imagined, much less guessed, where this journey would lead that Easter Sunday twenty years ago. The journey has not always been easy—but then again, that’s part of the nature of the journey, isn’t it? But what the journey has been is blessed by the presence of God each day. Sometimes I knew it keenly, other days I seemed to be barely aware. But in reflection, God’s presence was indeed there every day of those twenty years. I wonder . . . is that what Abram felt when God told him to leave the land of his fathers and go to a new land, a land God would show him. I don’t know. But I do know the journey continues and only God knows what lies yet before me.
Tommy
Monday, February 23, 2009
She's Ten Years Old
On Wednesday, February 25th, our daughter, Kate, will turn 10. She has informed her mother and me that being in the “double digits” is a big deal. We have no reason to doubt her nor a desire to calm her enthusiasm. Being 10 is indeed a big deal. I am within 6 months of having been in my current pastorate for 10 years. Ten years is a decade. I have lived four decades plus. My wife and I have been married two decades plus (obviously my wife was very young when we married).
So our daughter, our baby girl is 10. I recall the day we dedicated her in our church in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. I have a picture of her being held by the girl for whom we named our daughter. I treasure that picture as I do hundreds of others we have taken through the years. The picture above was taken the day she was baptized; a birthday of another sort if you will.
I have a picture on my desk, and in my mind as well, of her older brother holding her for the first time in the hospital room. Then there’s the picture that I will treasure of her waving as she is riding the old red tractor with her Papa. She was afraid of the tractor until that day when she agreed to ride with Papa.
There are many more pictures etched in my memory in, what has been for me, ten short years. There are lessons as well that I have learned in these years. I can’t fix her hair quite like her mother can, though I can put it in a pretty neat ponytail. I can’t fix poached eggs like her Papa did or play checkers using Mama’s rules. But I can tickle her nearly as good as I could when she was an infant and I still get a chuckle from the whole affair.
I have learned that little girls look at themselves in mirrors differently than dads look at themselves in the mirrors.
This weekend we will celebrate with a girls night at the movies—popcorn, red carpet, sodas, and friends. It will be a special evening. I suspect my major role will be to hold the door, fix the popcorn, keep big brother out of the way and generally do whatever else I may be asked. But that will be OK. I’ll be with her and will remember wonderful times throughout those ten years.
Then in a quiet moment of my own, I will thank God for the gift I call Kate.
She is ten years old and has a lifetime yet to look forward to.
Tommy
Monday, January 19, 2009
He's a Teenager
On January 18th our son, David, turned 13. It was a milestone marked by a party with friends while two anxious parents patiently bided our time upstairs. To our credit, I think, we interrupted only once to remind 8 teenage boys that sometimes parents really do still know best.
It was marked the next day by a gathering with family—grandparents, aunt, and cousins. And, of course, more gifts. The celebration continued the next morning as Mom and Dad and sister gave gifts on the birthday morning.
I want to say that as parent I survived the weekend. But looking back it wasn’t’ all that bad. There is a sense that reaching 13 is rite of passage. At 13 you no longer qualify for the kids menu at restaurants or discounts at amusement parks. You are considered a teenager, not a child. Though for me sometimes it’s still hard to make that distinction. Ah, but the reality is sinking in—I am the father of a teenager. The challenges ahead for both my teenager and his parents seem staggering at times. But with grace, patience, understanding, and perhaps time I feel confident we will successfully navigate these teenage waters.
13 years seems like a long time on one hand. But on the other hand it seems it was only yesterday. My mind has been flooded with memories of that day thirteen years ago when David was born—seeing him for the first time, feeling his face against mine, holding him gently against my chest, walking into our home for the first time with our new bundle of joy.
I have developed a new mantra for my role as father. Being a parent is a both a gift and a grand adventure and I am intent on experiencing that adventure to its fullest. So far that adventure has been all I hoped it would be and more.
Tommy
Monday, October 13, 2008
Casey
My son and I were behind a car today that had two yellow lab puppies in the back. They watched us curiously at the stop light, then played and wrestled together as we made our way on our journey. It reminded us both of when our own 4 year old yellow lab, Casey, was just a puppy. The adventures he had as a puppy and still has have made for some memorable tales. I could fill the pages of a small book with those adventures. My wife had quite the persuasive argument for why we needed a dog, and not just any dog, but a yellow lab specifically. She told me, “Families with dogs are happier families.” I wanted us to be a happy family, and being a happier family sounded even better. At the time I needed all the happiness we could muster.
Casey is not our first dog. My wife and I grew up with dogs in our homes. A few months into our marriage, we bought a cocker spaniel, Buttons, who was with us for fifteen years. So being a family without a dog was a new experience. We needed a dog. We wanted a dog. We are dog people. I wish the book "Marley and Me" had come out before we got our yellow lab to prepare me for the adventures of owning a lab. But alas . . .
Tonight, our yellow lab, as he often does, wandered into our closet and brought me one of my shoes, a sure sign that someone left the bedroom door open. I scolded Casey gently and he gave me the shoe. A few minutes passed and he came with the other matching shoe which he dropped at my chair. Dogs may be colorblind but Casey is quite capable of matching shoes. If you come to our home you may wonder why all the doors to all the rooms in our home are closed. Our children are so accustomed to closing the doors to keep Casey out of their things that even when they are at someone else’s home they close the doors on the rooms as they leave them. If only I could teach them to pick up after themselves as easily!!
My wife is right of course, we are a happier family. It’s hard to imagine life without our 113 pound yellow lab who insists on walking right beside you, even when you have your Sunday dress clothes on, and whose tail wags indiscriminately throughout a room reminding my wife and me that though are children are older, we still have to keep fragile items up on a higher shelf. I have thought that perhaps we misnamed our yellow lab. "Moose" seems a more fitting name at times.
Casey has added, as have all our dogs, companionship, loyalty, and unconditional and unmerited love for all four of us. God has given us a gift and for that gift we call Casey, I am thankful.
Tommy
Casey is not our first dog. My wife and I grew up with dogs in our homes. A few months into our marriage, we bought a cocker spaniel, Buttons, who was with us for fifteen years. So being a family without a dog was a new experience. We needed a dog. We wanted a dog. We are dog people. I wish the book "Marley and Me" had come out before we got our yellow lab to prepare me for the adventures of owning a lab. But alas . . .
Tonight, our yellow lab, as he often does, wandered into our closet and brought me one of my shoes, a sure sign that someone left the bedroom door open. I scolded Casey gently and he gave me the shoe. A few minutes passed and he came with the other matching shoe which he dropped at my chair. Dogs may be colorblind but Casey is quite capable of matching shoes. If you come to our home you may wonder why all the doors to all the rooms in our home are closed. Our children are so accustomed to closing the doors to keep Casey out of their things that even when they are at someone else’s home they close the doors on the rooms as they leave them. If only I could teach them to pick up after themselves as easily!!
My wife is right of course, we are a happier family. It’s hard to imagine life without our 113 pound yellow lab who insists on walking right beside you, even when you have your Sunday dress clothes on, and whose tail wags indiscriminately throughout a room reminding my wife and me that though are children are older, we still have to keep fragile items up on a higher shelf. I have thought that perhaps we misnamed our yellow lab. "Moose" seems a more fitting name at times.
Casey has added, as have all our dogs, companionship, loyalty, and unconditional and unmerited love for all four of us. God has given us a gift and for that gift we call Casey, I am thankful.
Tommy
Friday, July 25, 2008
Summer Joy
Summer is filled with joys beyond number. No matter who you are there seems to be something that fits the niche for everyone. Unless of course your niche involves snow and ice. With that said, summer really does possess a certain seasoning that enhances the routine of life.
Though I am not much for the pool scene, there is something to be said for spending a day at the pool with friends and basking in the sun and the water. I do enjoy spending time working in my yard though right now it seems that means I am picking up more rocks and weeds than anything else. I enjoy spending the hour on my riding mower giving my yard a nicely manicured look, though the dust and the pollen does seem to awaken my allergies.
Washing the car is always a great summer time activity. Though it seems cleaning my car was an activity I enjoyed more when I was a teenager. Well, there are always summer vacations to our favorite destinations. But this year, our vacation will happen not in the summer but during fall break.
It does appear my summer joy has experienced a bit of a slump. But not to give up, there are two activities that have revived my summer joy. The first was buying a homemade ice cream maker, getting out the old family recipe and whipping together a batch of homemade ice cream. There's nothing like it in the world!! The rich cream, the vanilla, the cold as it rushes down my throat! I'm ready to get another batch going right now.
The other activity was picking blackberries. I have labored and loved this tiny patch in my backyard for a few years now and this spring the rain was just right and the berries came on in great fashion. I relished walking down to the patch each evening to pick a small bucket of berries which my wife will use to make the best blackberry pie in the world! Top it all off with some homemade ice cream and I doubt that the summer could get any better.
Both those activities flood my mind with days past of helping my parents make ice cream and picking blackberries at my grandparents. Those memories are a gift from God for which I am very grateful. Those memories have indeed enriched my summer joy!
Blessings,
Tommy
Though I am not much for the pool scene, there is something to be said for spending a day at the pool with friends and basking in the sun and the water. I do enjoy spending time working in my yard though right now it seems that means I am picking up more rocks and weeds than anything else. I enjoy spending the hour on my riding mower giving my yard a nicely manicured look, though the dust and the pollen does seem to awaken my allergies.
Washing the car is always a great summer time activity. Though it seems cleaning my car was an activity I enjoyed more when I was a teenager. Well, there are always summer vacations to our favorite destinations. But this year, our vacation will happen not in the summer but during fall break.
It does appear my summer joy has experienced a bit of a slump. But not to give up, there are two activities that have revived my summer joy. The first was buying a homemade ice cream maker, getting out the old family recipe and whipping together a batch of homemade ice cream. There's nothing like it in the world!! The rich cream, the vanilla, the cold as it rushes down my throat! I'm ready to get another batch going right now.
The other activity was picking blackberries. I have labored and loved this tiny patch in my backyard for a few years now and this spring the rain was just right and the berries came on in great fashion. I relished walking down to the patch each evening to pick a small bucket of berries which my wife will use to make the best blackberry pie in the world! Top it all off with some homemade ice cream and I doubt that the summer could get any better.
Both those activities flood my mind with days past of helping my parents make ice cream and picking blackberries at my grandparents. Those memories are a gift from God for which I am very grateful. Those memories have indeed enriched my summer joy!
Blessings,
Tommy
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Getting Away
Jennifer and I took a much needed break. We traveled to Virginia to tour some historic sites. We celebrated her birthday and our 20th Anniversary, though our anniversary isn’t until June. But mostly we just relaxed and enjoyed the time away.
As often happens when we get away, we talked a lot about our kids, David and Kate who were staying with their grandparents. We called them each day, or they called us. Sometimes they called several times. They wanted to know what we were doing and especially wanted to know when we were coming home. Though we enjoy our time away together, we miss our kids just as they miss us. Being away from work and the demands of home, and at the same time being renewed in our relationship are all things we have tried to do throughout our years of marriage.
I’ve discovered in our times away that I come home refreshed and renewed. I also come home with a new understanding or perspective about myself. We all need to get away. Jesus got away. The gospels tell us that on a few occasions he went away by himself—to pray, to reflect, to gain perspective. If Jesus took the time to get away, and Jesus is our model for living well, then it stands to reason we should learn from him and take the time to get away as well.
I hope you take the time to get away to be renewed in your life, your relationships and your walk with God.
Blessings,
Tommy
As often happens when we get away, we talked a lot about our kids, David and Kate who were staying with their grandparents. We called them each day, or they called us. Sometimes they called several times. They wanted to know what we were doing and especially wanted to know when we were coming home. Though we enjoy our time away together, we miss our kids just as they miss us. Being away from work and the demands of home, and at the same time being renewed in our relationship are all things we have tried to do throughout our years of marriage.
I’ve discovered in our times away that I come home refreshed and renewed. I also come home with a new understanding or perspective about myself. We all need to get away. Jesus got away. The gospels tell us that on a few occasions he went away by himself—to pray, to reflect, to gain perspective. If Jesus took the time to get away, and Jesus is our model for living well, then it stands to reason we should learn from him and take the time to get away as well.
I hope you take the time to get away to be renewed in your life, your relationships and your walk with God.
Blessings,
Tommy
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