The sad part of this story is that we have raised a generation of parents (cathedral builders) that are more concerned about their own status and social persona than simply building the best cathedrals around.

To my fellow cathedral builders: keep it up…

——-

Invisible Mom

One of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’

Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??

Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please..’

Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock?, Where’s my phone?, What’s for dinner?’

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going, she’s gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’

In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was Almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.

No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last-minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built-in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, ‘You’re gonna love it there…’

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

——

Jesus never measured His life by how or where He was of the greatest use. God places His saints where they will bring the most glory to Him, and we are totally incapable of judging where that may be. – Oswald Chambers

Someone very close to me recently shared their frustration that God never answers the prayers they take to His feet.

Ouch.

To say I sympathize, is an understatement. Often, it feels as though God hears my prayers, my requests, my petitions, yet delays His response to the point it feels as though there will be no answer. Or at least, that is my perception. Oswald hit the “usefulness” nail on the head by pointing out that “we are totally incapable of judging where that may be.”

I believe it would be more useful if I lived closer to my kids’ school and our church. I have prayed this for a few years now. But still, we reside in our humble abode some distance from family, friends and the community we’ve been called to be in.

[my logic] if we’ve been called to be a part of this particular community, have our boys in that school, then it seems better served if we were closer to, if not in, that part of town.

Yet here we are. Waiting on God.

Because

I ask, “Why?” way too often. I nearly feel as though I am a two-year old with no better question to ask of my surroundings than, “Why?” It is as if I can not articulate my frustration, joy, anger, angst, contentment… or any emotion, for that matter, past simply asking, “Why?”

And often, the response I hear is, “Because.”

That is the total answer. Nothing more. Just, “Because.”

Now, I remember how exasperated I was when I was told, “Because,” when I was a wee lad. Heck, I have giggled maniacally at my own sons’ reactions when I tell them, “Because.” This is truly comical when Attaboy (all of five years old, mind you) throws his arms up over his head, rolls his eyes and harumphs at me.

But I digress…

“Because” does not answer anything. At all. It is a simple statement that implies a reason. Except that reason is never immediately revealed.

Or so we believe.

God places His saints where they will bring the most glory to Him – Oswald Chambers [emphasis mine]

[facepalm]

That’s where I miss the point. Every. Time.

This world, this life, everything, is all about HIS glory. HIS glory trumps all. So when His answer to my prayers is, “Because,” I need to hear the rest of His answer. It is actually closer to, “Because my creation is about glorifying ME.”

So, if my family needs to learn deeper contentment about our current location, I know that the end result will be in further glorifying Him. This is the heart attitude and condition that I fail to maintain when I am most discontent, when I feel that God simply does not answer, or want to answer, my prayers.

And really, who am I to tell my creator that I know better than Him?

Instead of the gospel of grace, we’ve given them daily baths in a ‘sea of narcissistic moralism.’

… in stark black, white and red you sit a little straighter in your seat and take notice.

Narcissistic Moralism

Narcissus

Are we simply training our children to be self-centered, moral people? Many of us as parents have fallen into the trap of emphasizing good behavior, as opposed to the Grace of God, in our raising up and training of our young ones. It is as if we have, to use the phrase from the article, turned God into Santa. He’s got a list and He’s checking it to see which of us are behaving badly.

Truly, it is difficult to remember to emphasize grace over good manners. Especially in the middle of the frozen food aisle when That’s My Boy won’t stop poking and teasing Attaboy. Or when Attaboy decides to just up and bite That’s My Boy as we enter church.

Really! It can be extremely difficult just getting the little angels with crooked halos to behave “normally.” To be good, for goodness’ sake.

It’s Not About The Law, Really.

4 So, my dear brothers and sisters, this is the point: You died to the power of the law when you died with Christ. And now you are united with the one who was raised from the dead. As a result, we can produce a harvest of good deeds for God. 5 When we were controlled by our old nature, sinful desires were at work within us, and the law aroused these evil desires that produced a harvest of sinful deeds, resulting in death. 6 But now we have been released from the law, for we died to it and are no longer captive to its power. Now we can serve God, not in the old way of obeying the letter of the law, but in the new way of living in the Spirit. – Romans 7:4-6

This is where we struggle most, as believers. We are captured and captivated by our human desire to simply go on auto-pilot. We can simply float through our daily lives if we have a good sense of what we can and can not do. Hence, the Law. But Christ obliterated and fulfilled the Law. It is as if He looked at the law and said, “That’s not a bad start, but it’s not nearly comprehensive enough. Listen to the Spirit. Talk with my Father. Study my Word. Be in community. Then you’ll begin to understand life as it is meant to be.”

Moralism makes it very easy for a check list of behavior to be drawn up and checked off… again, Santa’s naughty or nice list.

Do we really want our children only concerned about themselves? Do we really want our children to go through life checking off boxes as a way to determine their “good” behavior? Or should we be raising young adults that actually think and pray about their actions and how they affect those around them?

God is Not Santa, Only Our Father

One practice that I think is helping us stem the tide of moralism under our roof is that of getting our boys to see things from another’s perspective. While it is not perfect, we are seeing our young men begin to think about their actions, and the affects on others, before the actions manifest themselves. In some instances, our young men are even commenting on the selfish and rude behavior of other children and how it makes them feel.

This summer we are hoping to learn, as a family, about what it means to be concerned more for others than ourselves. The next step: how to better understand the depth and breadth of His grace.

This summer, sixty folks from our church will be heading to Eastern Kentucky and the hills of Appalachia. This is not a summer vacation. Rather, this trip is to deliver hope to families that greatly need assistance.

Each year, Grace Chapel take part in Appalachia Impact, in conjunction with Project Worth. Members of our community take time and resources from their summer activities to show others that they are loved. This year, will be no different.

Project Worth is an educational program in Appalachia that assists kids with their math and reading skills. In addition to helping the youngsters out, Project Worth helps adults with a pantry of food and clothing. There is even a community garden, I understand!

So, while the summer heat is on in the middle of July, my wife Bianca, my two boyos and I will be swinging hammers and showing folks that there is more hope, grace and mercy than we can ever hope to exhaust.

Won’t you join us? Check out my “Giving Back” page for more details on how you can join us in this trip.

Growing up, I never gave a thought to having children.

You see, I am an only child.

I looked around at my friends with brothers and sisters and thought that having siblings would be messy, disruptive and downright inconvenient. On top of my contentment with being an only, I thought it unwise to bring children in to such a fouled up world. I was going to be content being married to a great gal where we worked hard and played hard.

When I met my lovely bride in college, we were pretty honest in our hopes, dreams and aspirations, even as we were just dating. So, she knew early on that kids were not on my radar screen. In fact, when we would go to family functions or were out with friends, it became an ongoing joke that the kiddos would run, literally screaming, from me!

Fast forward sixteen years and I am the tremendously proud father of two extraordinary young men. Granted, they will be five and seven years old this year, but they are our young men.

Did I mention I am proud of these two?

What happened? What was the shift from no kiddos to raving about two yellow-haired monkeys?

I Blame My Wife

You see, much like Charlie Wollberg mentioned in his video, I too believe that being the best father possible means being the best husband possible. As I dated my wife and learned more about her, her family and what was important to her, I could see that family was where she drew a huge portion of her identity. Simply put, I love my wife. I want her to be happy, fulfilled and experience all that life has for her. Selfishly, I also want be a part of her life. This meant that I needed to change my stance on the kid question.

It is ALL about Community

Growing up, as small as my family is, taught me a lot about responsibility, caring for your family and self-sufficiency. My own father is a beacon of self-sufficiency. He spent nearly 35 years as an engineer with Ford Motor Company. Through his hard work, planning and execution of his duties, he provided for our family. Provided very well. Today, Mom and Dad enjoy a great life in the midst of retirement.

It was my father’s example of being a husband that provided the platform, the base upon which I pursue my own family. Add to that platform my expanded view of family as community that came from my bride’s family (did I mention that I married Italian?) and my view of being a father is much more than being simply a provider of resources.

This expanded view of family requires, at least for this father, a larger set of responsibilities in today’s world. Fathers are so much more than simply providers of resources and security for the family. Those are the minimum standards, if you will.

Being a Father means:

… being my children’s parent first, then friend.

… being an example of the behavior we expect our children to have.

… showing our children how to handle adversity and conflict.

… being responsible for our children’s spiritual, educational, mental and physical growth.

… loving our children, especially when they jump up and down on our last nerve.

… being there, even when they push us away.

… encouraging them to be in community with others, in spite of the pull of pop culture and our media towards isolation and narcissism.

… treating our children as the adults they will become.

… listening to our children. Not just hearing them, but delving into their minds and helping them learn how to think and feel.

… allowing our children to see us vulnerable & human.

I can never claim to have figured out how to “father” best. Heck, I am still hoping the instruction manual for my boyos was simply lost in the mail. But I know two things, for certain, about being a Dad:

1. There are very few things in life like having your kids charge you at full run to give a hug and kiss.
2. There is NOTHING like watching my sons just love on my wife, their mother.

Did I mention I am proud of these two?

As much as I am supposed to be the parent and supposedly know all there is to know about life, I am constantly amazed at the insights, comments and discussions with my boyos. I love seeing the world through their eyes! Their perception is untainted and innocent at this age and helps to peel back my cynicism and jaded view of the world.

To be a father is to see the world differently, through your children’s eyes.

To put a short story on what we are doing, we will be assisting our fellow humans in Menifee County, Kentucky. To learn more about what we are doing, check out my “giving back” page.

Why?

Here’s a five minute video from 20/20′s expose´on “The Children of the Mountain.“

As you can see, there are some huge needs in Appalachia.

For three years, our church community, Grace Chapel, has been traveling and ministering to a community of folks in Menifee County. This year, my family, boyos too, will be making the trek in the dead of summer to help build, rebuild and shore up some residences. In addition to actual labor, there is also an educational component that members of our church will be a part of through Project Worth.

…since I posted here.

…since I had the ability to blow out the cobwebs.

Have you ever found a period in time where you simply struggled for inspiration?

How about when you were inspired, but could not get the ideas out of your own mind?

Chewing paste is a somewhat appropriate phrase. So is mental constipation, for that matter.

The story of Sisyphus, comes to mind.

As the cobwebs of my mind are finally being shredded, I wonder, what was it that helped you push through a time of lack of inspiration or inability to express inspiration?

This time, it appears as though it was the combination of good friends that were patient enough to talk through my life at this point and flat out being with my family. Not bifurcated between work and family, but physically and mentally with my family. This latter event has not happened, sadly, in a long time.

How do you press through the dry creative times that inevitably haunt our lives?

Before that review however, we’re here to do what it is we do.  Sometimes, it feels as though there is no purpose, no tack to our lives.  Almost as if we are boats cast adrift in a huge, impersonal ocean that tosses us wherever it desires.

Many of us live hectic, frantic, “lives of quiet desperation,” as Thoreau would say.

And, as Thomas Hobbes wrote:

…the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short.

We race from meeting to appointment, from social gathering to class, from the office to home to rest our head.

And then we repeat the process 6 or so hours later seemingly all within the singular vacuum of our own personal struggles, trials, triumphs.

Yet, we all find time to stop for the ducks.

“Everyone Stops for the Ducks”

My bride (I call her my Loverly Wife) made this comment the other day as we were running around getting errands done with our sons, That’s My Boy and Attaboy.  And she’s dead right!

We were swinging out of  a strip mall parking lot next to a pond or catch basin when a family of Canadian geese were walking across the entranceway.  Cars in both directions just stopped to watch the mommy and daddy geese squawk their admonitions to their half dozen, furry goslings.

To peer into the cars waiting for this short parade to pass, it was remarkable to see folks grinning from ear to ear.  Imagine that; we’ve all got places to go, people to see, yet when a short, fuzzy parade halts our movement, we still have the capacity to sit still and admire the ducks on parade.

Do We Stop To Consider The Ducks?

Yet, here’s where I wonder if we are paying attention, at all, to what is going on around us.  Do we ever consider how these geese get along, day to day, finding food, finding shelter, raising a family?  And yet, day after day, these geese make the traffic stop as they go about their business.

Contrast their seemingly random wanderings in their daily lives with our own ability to plan, scheme and execute our plans.  We schedule our days to “maximize” our time to accomplish our goals, whatever they may be on a given day.  We think that if we can plan out our days to the minute that somehow a reward of sorts is waiting for us.

But we’re the ones that wait for the ducks to cross.  The ducks that simply do what they are supposed to do, regardless of schedules, goals or timelines.

Ducky Grace

I can’t help but wonder if we aren’t supposed to exercise a little grace for ourselves when our day just doesn’t go the way we planned.  As I type out these thoughts, I am in the midst of planning multiple showings and appointments with my clients in the next few days.  Very few of these appointments are staying pinned down on my calendar and I’m frustrated.

Frustrated that the schedule is not coming together the way I want it to come together.

That’s the point, isn’t it?  Life is a journey, not a destination.  Without these bobs and weaves, life would be too predictable.  Boring, even.

That’s My Boy << for a reason!