I don’t need a lot for Father’s Day. In fact, my Father’s Day wish list is pretty low-key. Perhaps this is the sentiment of most dads on Father’s day, that we would much rather focus on our own fathers than we would ourselves. If I must be given something for Father’s Day then I guess I will break down and come up with a Father’s Day wish list. I have also thrown in a couple of “do nots” as well. My guess is while I don’t speak for all fathers out there, I would assume that most of us would be happy with one, a combination of, or if you are feeling spry, all of the following.
“When you plow a field, make certain your first row is straight. If the first row is straight, then all the following rows are most likely to be as well. The same can be said for plowing the rows of your life, keep the first row straight, and the other rows will follow suit”. I suggest that Sherman was referring to our first row being our discipleship of Jesus Christ.
My first-born child just turned 13. We have high hopes for his happiness and well-being. Though we as parents recall navigating our teenage years, we understand that each teen’s experience is their own and comes with its own personal form of awkwardness and insecurity. Deanne and I are looking for ways to influence and advise him during these years without squashing his budding personality and independence. That’s why I’m hopeful you’ll benefit from these “Rules For My Teenager” that I have today.
Service rarely takes convenience into consideration. No, it is a fact that in most cases, service is highly inconvenient. I admit that too often I thought of the inconvenience of the service I was providing Deanne’s grandfather, Sherman, over the last eight plus years.
If you can’t learn from my hacks, since I have none, please learn from my mistakes. If it pleases the audience, I have prepared a few of my more memorable home and yard fails for your reading pleasure. Perhaps you will find a lesson within each.
After “correcting” the actions of my child, and reducing my son to tears, I followed the trail of pizza to determine just whom I might need to apologize (and potentially pay for their dinner) to. I peeked around the corner of the next booth ready to have my head bitten off by whomever was in the blast-zone. Instead of outrage or anger, I found an elderly couple and a father and daughter chuckling about what they had just witnessed.
The word “soccer” in my title is interchangeable with any other activity that we as parents allow our children to pursue. You could insert anything – tumbling, karate, band, cheer, dance, chess-club, scouts, all other sports, math… I use soccer as the medium for this post since it is what we do over here at the Jacobs home.
I am the Forrest Gump of Valentine’s Day. Well actually, the only thing Forrest and I share in that regard is that we are both not very smart men, but we know what love is… and I guess that you could say that past Valentine’s Days for my wife were like Forrest’s proverbial box of chocolates. She just never knew what she was gonna get…if anything. On Valentine’s Days of yesteryear I think I occasionally handed my wife an empty box of chocolates, figuratively speaking, on the international day of love.
I go to church with the hope that I can find peace and respite from disappointment and the frustrations of life. Often, en route to that hopeful communion I find myself on roads which lead nowhere near my desired destination. Last Sunday was a good example of the tendency.
I really don’t care too much for New Years. It’s not just that we have yet another reason to over-eat (which I always do), stay up late (which I am having a harder and harder time doing), or deal with the nuclear fallout which are my grumpy kids (and their grumpy parents) the day after. It’s the whole New Year’s resolution forum I hold in the highest disdain as well. In fact, I have boycotted the whole institution of resolution making for the last several years. I just can’t see why I should set goals that I most likely will not have the will-power to achieve.
I can’t say I’ve stopped yelling altogether, but my six-week application project taught me some valuable lessons, and the overall trend has been positive. I’ve realized that yelling is an inward-focused abuse of power. When I yell, I disregard the feelings and agency of my boys in my attempt to control them. I’ve also come to understand that yelling is synonymous with laziness. There are far more creative ways to influence my sons, but those ways take more thought, effort, and time. Yelling is a shortcut, and because it works (and provides a fleeting feeling of control), it is also addictive.
Thankful lists abound this time of year. Most of them annoy me. No offense. If we were to look at your typical thankful list and liken it to a Thanksgiving spread, then most Thanksgiving lists would be comprised of nothing but turkey. I want thankful lists with real thought and a dash of humor! Not just the turkey…