Four Kids Who Live in Your Town

This is the story of four kids who probably live in your town. I know, because they lived in mine. Their names are Al, Darren, Jake, and Emily.

Years ago, a family moved in next door. They looked a little rough, talked a little rough, and smoked a little much. We had no idea how rough they were. They had two little boys, Al and Darren. The kids were cute, and. . . kids. They were just two little kids. At first, they kept  to themselves, but that didn't last long. The yelling and fighting and a drinking soon spilled onto the streets and the sidewalks. Dad had a problem. With alcohol? Yup. With drugs? Probably. With mental health? Definitely. With Violence?

And in it all were those two little boys.

We tried to be good neighbors, but how do you do the white suburbia neighbor thing with a drunken redneck wrestling six cops on the sidewalk? You want to know? You get real honest. While other neighbors ignored Dad, threatened Dad, called the cops about everything Dad did, I looked him straight in the eye and told him the truth. We know what goes on in that house, and every time we hearing the yelling, the screaming, the smashing of objects (of people?) we will call the police. Because of two little boys. You know what? Dad kind of respected that.

Those boys got older. They made friends. Another boy, Jake, started hanging around the house and before long a girl, Emily, too. I only got to know one of them well, Al. The others were too young or busy or whatever, but Al would tell me things. The things he told me. Imagine laying on top of your drunken father, pinning him to the ground, because you thought he was going to kill your mother. You aren't a man, you're a kid, and you are doing this. Al tried to get out of it, but he had no idea how. Maybe he wanted normal, but he'd never seen it. He tried the military. We went running together to get him in shape, but he barely cleared boot camp. He couldn't get out because he didn't know where, or what, out was.

I'm not sure when that ignorant bastard Heroin showed up, but he did.

One night, we were sitting in our kitchen and heard it start next door. It was bad. We were in our house with the windows closed. They were in their house with the windows closed. And we heard her screaming. That's when it all broke. Dad in jail. Mom in the hospital. They all just disappeared.

After that I didn't see them for months, but then Al would pop up now and then. He bumped around in different cities fathering different children. One day, he showed up at my house looking for a place to live. His brain was fried. We didn't want him in the house, so we put him in the backyard and gave him some pizza while I made some calls. He said he forgot something at a friend's house and left.

The next time I saw him was at Darren's funeral. Al's little brother overdosed on Heroin. I went to the memorial service and gave my condolences.

The next time I saw him was at Jake's baptism. While in prison, Jake met a pastor, and Jesus. Upon his release, he wanted to be baptized. I spoke with Al. He read in the Bible about a baptism by the Holy Spirit that can heal. He was praying for one for himself. He knew that only a miracle could save him from his addiction.

Last month, Al died. Almost exactly a year after his brother. Emily is currently fighting for her life in a coma. This week, Jake was arrested with thousands of dollars in cash and several hundred bags of heroin.

Who are these kids? Are they despicable scum bags who you'd avoid on the street? Yes. Have they made terrible choices and bought into foolish lies? Yes. Are they just kids who needed a Mom and Dad and got a nightmare instead? Yes. Are they people who desperately need your prayers and, God forbid, you kindness as well? Yes.

The most haunting thing about these four is that they are literally our neighbors. Yet, I couldn't do a damned thing to save them. What's worse? I don't think I tried very hard either.

How Siri Made Me a Better Dad

Several months back, I was facing a small emergency at my part-time job. At the moment I learned of the issue I was driving and didn’t have any free hands. “Aha!,” I thought, “This is the perfect time for Siri.” For those of you who don’t know, Apple’s Siri is a voice-activated feature on iDevices which acts as something of a personal assistant. You can ask Siri to place phone calls, send messages, even tell you the date of the last Space Shuttle launch (that one comes in handy if you have a Kindergartener). Apple is known for technological advances and ease of usability, right? Imagine my surprise when Siri proved to be completely useless. It could not identify any of the people I was asking it to call, and the entire situation ended with me yelling at my phone and Siri promising, “I’m trying to be helpful.” Seriously, my phone said that to me. The entire situation reaffirmed my suspicion that most claims regarding the ability of technology to actually improve our lives are mere marketing hype. However, there is one very specific situation where technology has improved my life. It’s made me a better father, and it is all thanks to Apple’s Siri.

The Problem

                I’m a Stay-at-Home Dad raising three young boys. Discipline is a big deal in our house. Not that I’m some sort of brutish dictator, but with these three little ones you’ve got to be on top of things. I like to use a variety of disciplinary tools, but by far my favorite is the time out. Our household policy is simple, when you commit an infraction you sit on time out for one minute for every year you’ve been alive. So, our three year-old sits for three minutes, our six year-old for six, etc (I have yet to find a way to earn myself a 36 minute time out, but one can dream). This might seem like a simple policy to execute, but it is harder than it initially appears. I used to use the timer on our microwave to measure these time out minutes, but that only works when you are close to the microwave. It doesn’t work upstairs, in the backyard, or at the park. Additionally, when you are dealing with one child who is screaming because he was hit over the head with a plastic helicopter, one who is screaming because he did the hitting with the plastic helicopter, and a third who is screaming because – well, because everyone else is screaming – that walk across the room to the microwave suddenly becomes a whole lot more difficult.

                Without a reliable way to measure time, the lengths of prescribed time outs became very inconsistent. Maybe you are able to accurately estimate when three minutes had passed in your mind, but I’m not. When someone is screaming in my face, I tend to think the three minutes has passed pretty quickly. When I am upset with someone, I can make that three minutes last forever. In the end, the actual time was based on my mood, and my kids picked up on it. Soon, every time out became a festival of whining and harassment. My boys learned that they could manipulate Dad, and that Dad was the only factor controlling when they could return to whatever they wanted to do. If they could make time out more miserable for me than it was for them I would end time out early. They were completely correct. And life was hell.

The Solution

                I’m not sure when I figured it out, probably while exploring the date of the last Shuttle launch, but I found out that there was a person who would set a timer for my whenever I wanted for as long as I wanted, and she lived in my pocket. With the push of a button and one little phrase, my time out problem was solved. “Siri, set timer three minutes,” changed my life and made me a better Dad. The boys know that time out lasts until the phone chimes. That knowledge alone has reduced the time out whining. Sure, we still have time out battles, but those battles typically focus on real disciplinary issues, not my inability to discipline consistently. Siri goes with my wherever I go, upstairs, outside, in the grocery store. Problem solved and Siri can now claim to actually be helpful.

A Truth, a Blessing, and a Hope: Three Things Every Child Needs to Hear Every Day

It’s a sobering feeling, sending your child away. That first morning dropping them at school or putting them on the bus is a reality check. At least it was for me. My moment came a few years ago as I dropped my oldest son off for his first morning of preschool. It wasn’t the first time he had been away from me, but this was different than a morning in Sunday School, a night with the babysitter, or a weekend at Grandma’s. For the first time, I was putting my child into the hands of people I didn’t really know and a situation where I had little influence. There’s a lot that can go wrong. The media has done a thorough job reminding us that every time a child leaves our sight we may never see him again, and even though I am something of an emotional curmudgeon, that idea sometimes brings a cold dread into my heart. More than that, I had no guarantee that these “other people” took the responsibility to guide my child into adulthood seriously. I had no guarantee that they didn’t harbor hidden desires to damage and harm him for their own pleasure. I had no guarantee that he would make friends and discover all the joys that come with that. Maybe people would be mean. I had experienced some of that as a child and desperately wish my sons will be spared those experiences. But they won’t, will they? People will be mean. People will harm them. People will put their own desires above the well-being of these little ones. I have zero control over that. On that first morning, I came to the realization that the only thing I can control is the last words my child hears me say before I let him go. So, that morning, and every morning since, I grabbed that little man by the shoulders, looked straight into his eyes and whispered three things:

A Truth: I Love You

     For several years now, I have volunteered working with young adults. I have worked with some great young men and women and some damaged young men and women. I have seen the addicted, depressed, and mentally ill. I have seen the long-term results when a person has never received the affirmation that they are loved. It’s as if the foundation for all of life has been pulled from beneath them and every event, every challenge, is a threat to the very core of their being. These people flounder and wander. They are lost, because they do not know that they are loved. I would trade all the wealth in all the world to save my children from that life. The truth is that we are all loved. You are loved. I am loved. They are loved. The foundation of the Universe, the truth that is holding it all together, is love. If you have not faced that reality in your life, I encourage you to explore the person of Jesus Christ and reflect on his love for you. You are loved with a ferocity that is both terrifying and wonderful to experience. Whatever happens in the next day, whatever wonders or tragedies befall you, one truth does not change. You are loved. So, I grab my son by the shoulders, look straight into his eyes and whisper, “I love you.”

A Blessing: I Am Proud of You

     There is a wonderful practice in some cultures, well attested to in the Old Testament, of an aged father calling his sons to him to receive a blessing before he dies. By no means does this practice need to be restricted to sons! A blessing is an affirmation of a person’s strengths and a prediction of the continuation of strength into the future. A blessing tells a child that the parent believes in her strength and is excited to see that strength shared. A blessing is a statement of pride. This child of mine has something to offer the world, and I want him to know that. I am proud of him.

     Now, am I always proud of my child? No and yes. There was the time we were at the grocery store. My hands were full at checkout and a woman in a wheelchair in the next aisle dropped her purse on the floor. She could not reach it and I asked my son to go and help her. He did not go. I was not proud of his actions in that situation and I let him know that. There are times when we will not be proud of the actions of our children. They will make poor choices. They will pursue lies. They will hurt others. In those situations we must express our own hurt and disappointment to them, but does that negate the blessing? Does the fact that my child sometimes acts in ways I wish he didn’t mean that I no longer believe that he was made for a purpose and has something positive to offer the world? Does is negate my belief that he has the power to turn to a different path and change? No, my pride in his potential and my blessing for his future thrive, even if he struggles. So, I grab my son by the shoulders, look straight into his eyes and whisper, “I am proud of you.”

A Hope: You’re Gonna Have a Great Day!

     I have complete control over my love. I can offer it or withhold it at my choosing. I only control half of my blessing. I offer it, but my son must accept it and live in it for it to come true. I have no control over the hope I offer to my son every morning. It is just that: Hope. I hope that life treats my children well. I hope that they find a community that loves them and supports them. I hope they find their way into places where they can potently exercise their gifts in the service of others. I hope that their dreams succeed. I hope they find confidence in who God made them to be despite their own shortcomings. I also hope that they never feel hunger or poverty, that they never experience life on either end of the gun, and that they never have to stand against the toes of bullies and speak a truth I wish they did not know. But I cannot control these things.

So far, life has treated my children well. School has been an eye-opening exploration of knowledge. Friends have been kind and generous. Whatever bumps life has given us have, in hindsight, been mild. There is no guarantee that tomorrow will continue in the same way, but we hope. If life brings hardship, we continue to hope that it will work out for the good. This is a legacy I want to pass to my son. So, I grab him by the shoulders, look him straight in the eye and whisper, “You’re gonna have a great day!”

The Legacy Continues

     Our oldest son is in kindergarten now. When the weather is nice we walk to school. He rides his bike, our middle son rides with training wheels, and the youngest is pushed in the stroller. It is a great way to start the morning, and as we wait in front of the school I grab the oldest by the shoulders and share my little message. Last week, our middle son had the chance to attend a one-week preschool preview before beginning in earnest in the fall. As we stood outside waiting for the classroom to open on the first morning, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down to see my son; jacket zipped to the neck and backpack snuggly tightened on both shoulders. He looked so ready for life, yet so tiny at the same time. He looked up and me and said, “Daddy, can you look at my face and tell me your secrets?” So, I knelt in front of him, grabbed the straps of his backpack, looked straight in those wonderful little eyes and told him, “I love you. I am proud of you. You’re gonna have a great day!” And. . . he did.

What I Read in 2014

I'm not a big New Year's resolution guy, but as 2013 came to a close I noticed that my stack of "books to read" had gotten pretty large. So, I made a 2014 resolution to read the stack. Mostly, I succeeded. There were a few books that I started to read and then decided they weren't worth the time. I apologize to those authors, because I know putting your writing out there is an incredibly brave thing to do. I also made some substitutions on the pile. Overall, I made it! I'm pretty proud of that considering that my reading time these days is limited to the amount of time I can keep my eyes open in bed at night. Occasionally, people ask me what I'm reading or if I've read anything good. This post is for you. If nothing else, it is to celebrate the fact that I can actually remember what my resolution was at the end of the year. And, yes. I do have a whole new stack of books to read in 2015.

Here's what I read:

Fiction

The Odyssey, Homer: I’m sure I read this at some point during my education, but it made no lasting impact on my memory. So, I thought I’d try it again. I was surprised at how emotionally real and raw it was on occasion. I was especially moved early in the book by the real feeling of despair from young Telemachus as he watches his father’s wealth consumed by others. Perhaps this initial connection is what kept me reading through Odysseus’ lengthy (and often tedious and boring) journey home. I’m glad I endured because the moment of utter triumph and celebration (for Odysseus and Telemachus) and surprised terror (for almost everyone else) when Odysseus strings his war bow thus revealing himself as returned is one of the finest literary moments I’ve yet stumbled across.

The Keeper’s Son, Homer Hickam: I initially picked this up as a book on tape for my wife while she was laid up injured in bed, and then decided to read it myself. It is the story of a rag-tag group of Outer Banks islanders who work on a US Coast Guard cutter, mainly because they get paid to fish. That’s until the US enters the Second World War and their “fishing grounds” become the hunting grounds of German U-boats. In the midst of the battle, some remarkable connections are made between the enemies. Overall, this was a good beach read. Some of the characters are a little flat, and the plot is occasionally a little ambitious, but it was an enjoyable read.

The Ambassador’s Son, Homer Hickam: The sequel to The Keeper’s Son. The rag-tag band of Coast Guarders is sent to the South Pacific to observe the taking of the Solomon Islands on behalf of the Secretary of the Navy. Their unique position as outsiders makes them the perfect crew to investigate when an extremely well connected officer goes missing. Their mission takes them throughout the islands, rubbing shoulders with some of history’s greats (maybe before they were so great) along the way. Another fun read.

Holmes on the Range, Steve Hockensmith: Another hand-off from my wife. What happens when two cowboy brothers (one of whom is illiterate) stumble across a Sherlock Holmes novel? They roam the old west solving mysteries, of course! This is the first of four novels by an award winning short story mystery writer. It is a mixture of two disparate genres into an enjoyable read.

Master and Commander, Patrick O’Brian: One of my all-time favorite novels. This was at least my third time through it. It is the dawn of the 19^th century as England is at war with France. A young naval officer, Jack Aubrey, is given his first command. By chance encounter, he invites an unemployed physician, Stephen Maturin, to come aboard as ship’s surgeon. That friendship will keep readers on board for another nineteen books. In this case, we stay with the two just long enough to see them take their ship against an enemy frigate five times their size. O’Brian is known for his exemplary prose and thorough historical research. This book is worth multiple reads.

Non-Fiction

How Children Raise Parents, Dan Allender: At the start, Allender admits that he isn’t writing as an expert parent. Rather, he writes as one who has failed repeatedly and still been blessed with wonderful children. He argues that every child, and therefore person, needs to know the answers to two questions: Am I loved? and Can I do whatever I want? He goes on to explain the dangers of answering these questions poorly, and the way that answering them well ultimately shapes and matures the parent more than the child. The last chapter alone makes the entire book worth the time.

Teaching the Bible through Popular Culture and the Arts, Mark Roncace and Patrick Gray: I have to admit, I pretty much skimmed this one. This is a reference book in which each chapter deals with how to teach the Bible through a specific form of media. The chapters begin with brief essays on each form and are followed by lengthy lists of specific works with suggestions for their use. It’s a good resource, but not a page turner.

After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity, Miroslav Volf: Probably the work that put Volf on the map (he’s a world famous theologian at Yale). I had to read a portion of this while in seminary and had wanted to return to it for some time. I the first section, Volf selects two representative theologians from the Catholic and Orthodox traditions and analyzes their theology of church as informed by their understanding of the Trinity. He then finishes by presenting his own understanding of the church and Trinity while critiquing and utilizing insights from the previous section. This is one of those books where you find yourself reading some passages three or four times just to grasp their meaning, but are never sorry that you invested the time. This is a highly technical work and the English translation doesn’t do it any favors. I would actually read a chapter and then read a “lighter” book before returning for the next chapter. Regardless, it has challenged and shaped my thinking.

Bold Love, Dan Allender and Tremper Longman III: What is love? How do we love others? A psychologist and an Old Testament expert (who happen to be best friends) team up to answer the question. In the process, they reveal an image of love that is far harder and more disturbing that we typically acknowledge. As soon as I finished this book, I loaned it to a friend. When I get it back, I plan to read it again.

Spiritual Theology, Simon Chan: This is another book I started in seminary and am now finishing off. It is an attempt to systematize a Christian understanding of spirituality. As such, it does a fine job. Chan lives and teaches in Singapore and approaches his writing from a “non-western” approach. This brings some interesting and challenging observations to his work. My problem is Chan’s use of the systematic approach. I’ve read a few systematic theologies over the years and something about them just doesn’t connect with my brain. I remember that this was a good book, as I flip through it I see my usual underlinings and comments, but for the life of me I can’t remember one significant take-away from it.

A Book of Voyages, Patrick O’Brian: Well known for his historical fiction, Patrick O’Brian compiled a collection of his favorite factual voyages. The book is literally a series of journal entries from real people on real trips several hundred years ago. Some went quite well. Others ended with starvation and the fighting of polar bears with sharp sticks. Depending on the author of a given journal, the reading can be a little difficult.

A Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster: This is a Christian classic that I just never got around to reading before. It is very good. In the 1970s, Foster set out to discover and share ancient spiritual disciplines which he felt the church had lost (our Catholic and Orthodox brothers and sisters might disagree). Foster created a wonderful, accessible, and brief guide to practices like prayer, submission, and confession. It is an excellent starting point for anyone looking to deepen his/her spiritual practice.

Never the Same, Steven James: James is one of my favorite authors because of his random and rambling approach to devotional writing. In this book he selects a series of biblical characters and explores their world, perspective, and encounters with Jesus. It is good, but easy. It would be right on pace for a high school student. That isn’t to say that it lacks depth. The chapter on the boy about to stone the woman caught in adultery was sufficiently convicting to make me think twice.

Money Well Spent? Michael Grabell: Grabell is a reporter for ProPublica who found himself at ground zero of the Great Recession. In this book he looks at the largest economic stimulus package in history. He simultaneously tells the story of how the package was put together and administered while also asking if it was worth it. Ultimately he ends up with a strong maybe. He concludes that the package certainly bolstered the economy and helped to shorten the recession, but was also poorly managed, sometimes shockingly so. Grabell’s style is easy to read. I appreciated that while he certainly falls on one side of the political divide, he isn’t afraid to point out the failings of those who may be his friends, or even heroes.

Psalms, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Bonhoeffer has quite the reputation. As a pastor and theologian who was hung for speaking out (and maybe a bit more) against Hitler, he deserves that reputation. Yet, he didn’t earn it with this book. It is a very quick overview of the Psalms, specifically the use of the Psalms in prayer. If you want a quick read on this topic you can finish this in a few hours. I just didn’t find it very engaging.

Experiencing God, Henry and Richard Blackaby and Claude King: I’m going to ruffle some evangelical feathers with this one. I have heard so much about how wonderful this book is. I’ve heard it lauded from pastors’ pulpits and professors’ podiums. I’ve had friends tell my how it changed their lives. I had a mixed experience. I should say that I read the 2008 revised and expanded edition, and I think much of the material I took issue with was part of the expansion. So, keep that in mind. In a very general way, this is a great book. It gives some very helpful guidance for how to seek God when facing a decision or uncertainty. On the other hand, the author(s) come from a very specific religious context and can’t seem to see beyond that. The material itself was mostly sound, but at some point (the expansion?) they added case studies of what happened to people who followed the stated principles. Almost without exception, every person became a missionary, pastor, church planter, or just gave a bunch of money to one of those causes. Does God not call people to cure cancer, fight crime, build homes, or raise families (unless you are a woman raising your children while your husband pastors)? And if these authors have never seen God call people to do any of these things, what does it say about their methodology and theology? I could go on, but won’t. In the end, if you are going to read this book, find an early edition.

War, Politics, and Power, Karl Von Clausewitz. Edited by Col. Edward M. Collins: This book sat on my shelf for years and I never really had any interest in it. Sometimes I am quite the fool. Clausewitz was a Prussian military officer who fought against Napolean and later in life wrote a massive book, On War, which delineated the lessons he had learned in that struggle. In 1962, Col. Collins edited and translated key portions of On War, thus creating War, Politics, and Power. Today, the US military describes itself as “calusewitzian.” Regardless, this is a wonderful book. While Clausewitz maybe wasn’t the clearest communicator, his clarity of thought and insight is amazing. With a little effort, one can take his insights on war and apply them to most human endeavors. The effort is well worth the time. In fact, I enjoyed this so much that I placed On War on my 2015 reading pile. This is a must read for any organizational leader.

Please Understand Me II,  David Keirsey: This is one of the classics on personality type. Keirsey puts his own twist on Jungian type theory (commonly marketed as the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator). Rather than focus on the sixteen types of the MBTI, Keirsey looks at four broad categories or “temperaments” into which each of the sixteen types fit. He argues, pretty convincingly, that these four temperaments have been recognized going at least as far back as Plato. Indeed, he names his four temperaments, the Artisan, Guardian, Idealist, and Rational after the types delineated by Plato. He then looks at how these types have been viewed throughout history and delves into the unique skills, attitudes, motivations, and desires of each. I especially appreciate his insight that everyone carries intelligence in some area. No one is stupid. Rather, different cultures value different types of intelligence and suffer for neglecting others. It is an informative read, but Keirsey’s style can be blunt and difficult. I’ve used his approach when working with others on personality type. More than once a client has referred to him as a “jerk.” I prefer to call him honest.

Why You Should Treat Your Child like a Terrorist

            Whether it arises from dinner being thrown on the floor, a child who opens every cabinet and touches every item within, or the persistent flailing about of a preschooler in winter, we’ve all sometimes wondered if our child would be more at home among a band of pirates. And those issues don’t approach the rolling, wailing, flailing simply because you served me the wrong snack temper tantrum. We’ve all felt the mounting tension, the rising pulse, and the sky-rocketing blood pressure accompanying that first groaning shriek of a tantrum. In those moments we might like to ship our child off to Guantanamo Bay, but is there a more practical response to temper tantrums? Well, if your child is behaving like a terrorist, treat him like one.

            In their book Counterstrike, New York Times reporters Eric Schmitt and Thom Shanker discuss the developing U.S. strategy in the war on terror. They note that one of the few pre-9/11 Osama Bin Laden experts was a mother of six who used her insights from parenting to understand terrorists. I aim for the reverse, to use counter-terrorism strategy as an insight into dealing with the craziness of childhood.

Deny, Capture and Kill

            Immediately after 9/11, counter-terrorism strategy had a dual focus. First was denying terrorists the opportunity to attack American soil again. The idea was that terrorists would find America too well secured, and look for targets elsewhere. The second emphasis was capturing or killing key terrorist leaders. While both strategic emphases experienced some practical successes, they ultimately failed to eliminate terrorism as a global threat. This is because both emphases have emotional roots in fear, anger, and a desire for revenge. As the war on terror progressed, the U.S. learned that we could experience a series of tactical successes and yet be no closer to defeating terrorism.

            We’ve all seen parents who rule by emotion. We know capture and kill moms who respond to any transgression with overwhelming rage. We know denial dads who feel so ill-equipped to deal with misbehavior that they seldom take the kids anywhere. These approaches sometimes prevent tantrums, or at least end them quickly, but since they don’t address the cause of misbehavior they don’t reduce its likelihood. Just like battling Al Qaeda, parents can “win” individual battles without winning the war. While there is a time to show our children that they have angered and hurt us and a time to avoid certain activities because we believe they will end poorly, fear, anger, and revenge should not be the guiding principles of parenthood. The U.S. quickly learned that such responses to terrorism don’t work, so should parents. We need to find a way to make children not want to throw tantrums.

Traditional Deterrence

            As America settled into the war on terror, some voices began to call for a better strategy. The voices came from interesting places, like retirement communities. Some of the masterminds who fought the Cold War insisted that the tactics used against the Soviets could work with Al Qaeda. They were referring to a strategy known as deterrence.

            After the Second World War, the United States and Soviet Union stockpiled nuclear weapons. It became imperative to ensure those weapons were never actually used. American intelligence officials recognized that they and the Soviets both valued things like cities, factories, facilities, and people. If convinced that using nuclear weapons would cost them these things, it seemed logical that the Soviets would not use nuclear weapons. In other words, the Soviets needed to think that they would lose more from an attack than they would gain. Traditional deterrence worked very well. Nuclear weapons were not used.

            Parenting involves much traditional deterrence. We constantly create, or should be creating, situations where children learn that poor behavior costs more than it gives. When a preschooler throws a tantrum and loses an entire day of television, that’s traditional deterrence. When a teenager loses the car keys for a week after violating curfew, that’s also traditional deterrence. This isn’t just good parenting, it is wisdom for life. What we want right now may cost us what we want most. Traditional deterrence in parenting directs our children away from undesirable behaviors and trains them for adulthood.

            While traditional deterrence is a necessary parenting strategy it is not always the best strategy. Traditional deterrence assumes that a showdown is likely, and its practitioner seeks to ensure that she does not lose that showdown. It creates a situation where parents must “win” confrontations through some type of force. Our children learn by “losing” a power encounter with Mom and Dad. While some willful attitudes should be broken, traditional deterrence used poorly can crush the spirit of the child, which is not good parenting. Traditional deterrence is sometimes necessary, but a better strategy aims to avoid unnecessary showdowns.

The New Deterrence

            As counter-terror professionals applied traditional deterrence to the struggle with Al Qaeda, they realized terrorists don’t value the same things superpowers do. Terrorists seldom possess large cities or military bases and often sacrifice life in pursuit of ideals. They aren’t influenced by the losses that proved effective in the Cold War. However, that they don’t value the same kinds of things doesn’t mean terrorists don’t value anything. The intelligence community compiled a list of things terrorists do value, like reputation, advancement of religion, operational success, publicity, and unit cohesion.

            Convincing terrorists that attacks would cost them things they valued led to new deterrence. Many things terrorists value are legitimate. There are individuals around the world who desire these things, but pursue them without killing other humans. New deterrence seeks to thwart terrorist desires when they attempt attacks, and fulfill their desires when they pursue goals peacefully. Practically that means doing things like publicizing failed terror plots. If terrorists think they will look foolish when an attack fails, they will be less likely to take the risk. The strategy also publicizes individuals who abandon terrorism. Islamic leaders are recruited to commend those who seek peaceful resolutions and condemn those who commit violence. Through diplomatic means, the U.S. has sent representatives and Islamic leaders to nations, even specific villages, known for producing terror recruits to convince younger generations that there is a better way. In short, new deterrence builds on traditional deterrence to convince potential terrorists not just that attacks will cost more than they will gain, but that there are appropriate peaceful avenues to achieve their desires.

            I believe that new deterrence is the heart of parenting and the best response to tantrums. As parents, our job is to teach children the appropriate ways to pursue desires. When our child throws a tantrum, it doesn’t mean that we are failures. It warns us that our child is seeking fulfillment in the wrong way. New deterrence teaches us that a tantrum has little to do with the act itself, but is tied up in the surrounding context of the tantrum. We must address inappropriate behavior when it happens (traditional deterrence), but it is more important that we teach our children there are better ways to pursue desires (new deterrence).

            New deterrence might sound complicated, but you don’t need to be scheming like a chess master and patient like a tortoise to make it happen. In fact, it is best to be clear, direct, and simple. Here are a few principles I use with my kids:

Tantrums never succeed. When one of my sons throws a fit, I remind him that tantrums do not succeed, and take whatever disciplinary action is necessary. When he has calmed, I point out that the tantrum did not succeed and that tantrums will never succeed. This action does not fulfill his desire.

Offer an out. Often, parents and children get locked in an adversarial situation which one might “win,” but everyone will lose. Let your child know he is not out of options. During a tantrum, I simply ask my son if he thinks this situation will end well or poorly. Sometimes, he will acknowledge that this will not end well and will back off of his demands. If I am exceptionally wise that day, I then back off and allow him to collect himself or offer some snuggle time. If he decides that his tantrum is leading to a positive resolution, we move to traditional deterrence.

Be predictable. Establish clear routes your children can use to pursue desires. My sons do not receive juice before lunch and then only when they ask politely. The predictable route to obtain juice is to wait until lunch and politely ask for it. Statements along the lines of “I want juice” at 9 AM do not result in juice. There is no surprise in that, and therefore no reason to freak out. . . theoretically.

Good behavior pays off. If we seek to teach our children that there are appropriate avenues to fulfill dreams, then we must reward the pursuit of those avenues. My oldest son loves staying up late, but we only let him do so when he has been pleasant and helpful throughout the day. When he does this, he gets to stay up late for some special time with Mom and Dad. His use of the appropriate avenue pays off. If you make a shopping trip with the kids and they behave well, reward them. It doesn’t need to be with toys and snacks. Sometimes looking into their eyes and expressing pride and gratitude is plenty. Be creative, but reward good behavior.

Humility

In St. Paul’s letter to the Christians in ancient Philippi he confesses, “Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of this. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Paul was talking about his journey as a follower of Jesus Christ, but I embrace the same attitude as a parent. My home is not characterized by Zen-like calm and special agent style strategizing. I too run thin on patience, lose my temper, and just do and say stupid, thoughtless, things. But, I see a better way. A way to guide my children into adulthood with care, thoughtfulness, and intelligence, and I invite you to press on with me toward that goal.

Conclusion

Childhood is an adventure. It is an exploding world of discovery, possibility, and imagination. It is an astonishing place where play is work and work is play. Awe and wonder are as familiar as neighbors, and every day has the potential for amazement. From our childhood we bring our dreams for life and form those dreams into plans and mold those plans into reality. From our childhood we grow our character. But none of this can happen if childhood is not nurtured, guided, and shaped by those older and wiser. If our children are not guided into the pathways of proper behavior, then all of the wonderful things which grow in their imagination will remain dreams. Our children will not grow into adults who work hard to shape the future. They will not travel to Mars or invent a petroleum free world. They will simply become large children who do not know the paths to follow. They will become bitter, jaded, disillusioned, and hateful because they do not know how to turn dreams into reality. They will become the type of person who always blames others, always finds fault, always tears down. They will be adults who throw temper tantrums.

If Crimea Were a Volleyball Game: A Forced Analogy for a Manufactured Crisis

For many people, making sense of what’s going in Crimea is challenging. For those people, I offer this analogy.

            Imagine that you are a volleyball player at Springfield Area High School. You are looking forward to an upcoming game against the neighboring, and somewhat larger, Mudville High. Mudville has a reputation for producing solid athletic teams, and have even developed their own “Mudvillian” system of training. Several weeks prior to the big game, your school’s superintendent surprisingly decrees that all athletic teams will now train according to the Mudvillian method. This doesn’t sit well with some. In fact, adopting Mudvillian training seems to benefit Mudville more than Springfield. So, there’s a whole lot of drama, and the superintendent is fired. The next day he is seen hanging out at Mudville High. Strange, but you’ve got a game to play.

            The day of the big game arrives. Springfield and Mudville take to the court. The stands are packed including a rather large contingent from Mudville. Not surprising, because they live so close. The game begins normally, but after a few points are scored a young man appears on your side of the court. You’ve never seen him before, his clothes seem very similar to Mudville’s volleyball uniforms, and you’re pretty sure he came from the direction of the Mudville bench. But his uniform doesn’t actually say “Mudville,” and he claims he’s an enthusiastic Springfield supporter who wants to make sure the game is played fairly. When your coach insists he leave the court, the Mudville fans begin to boo and some of the larger ones start to line up on the edge of the court. The referee looks confused, but doesn’t say anything. You coach advises you to play on, just don’t antagonize the “supporter.” The Mudville fans return to their seats.

            Mudville serves. The supporter smacks the ball to the ground on your side of the court. Mudville claims a point and celebrates. You protest. The supporter claims this is exactly what he was worried about and is joined by several more, similarly dressed, “supporters” from the Mudville bench. The referee calls a meeting with the linesmen and they huddle in the corner, whispering quietly. Meanwhile, play continues. Mudville serves again, this time clearly out of bounds. Lacking linesmen, the Mudville coach asks the opinion of the Springfield team. The Springfield “supporters” begin to loudly yell, “It’s in! It’s in!” Mudville celebrates another point.

            The referee returns and asks Mudville to remove their players from Springfield’s side. The Mudville coach claims to have no players on Springfield’s side and further advises that if the “Springfield situation” is not remedied, he will have to intervene. Mudville fans once again begin to line the court. The referee advises everyone to proceed with caution and returns to his huddle.

            Mudville serves again. You attempt to receive the ball, but collide with a “supporter.” The supporter then stands toe-to-toe with you, screaming in your face. You look to your teammates, most of who are standing about in a shocked silence. You look to your coach, but find that he is gone and your assistant coach is giving you two thumbs up while wearing a Mudville T-Shirt. The referee returns just in time for the Mudville coach to declare Springfield out of control. He insists that the Springfield players want him to coach the team, and suggests a vote. Before you can say anything, the “supporters” begin to loudly chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The Mudville coach declares himself dual coach of Mudville and Springfield. Mudville fans go wild and begin to strip the gymnasium of any reference to Springfield.

            The referee returns to declare that, until the “supporters” leave the court, Mudville must play without their setter. The Mudville coach agrees, but the setter goes nowhere. He’s too busy handing you a Mudville uniform.  The newly appointed Springfield superintendent arrives, stating that he is deeply concerned. He assures you that he is working on a plan to allow you to leave the court. The Mudville coach gives an impromptu speech regarding his bold leadership in averting a crisis.

Reflections on 4 Years of Stay-At-Home Dadding

Although the actual date has been lost in the haze of 4:30 AM wake-ups, vomit avoidance strategies, and small-scale railroad construction, I believe that this week will mark the end of my fourth year as a Stay-At-Home Dad. This morning I found myself perusing old entries in my journal and stumbled across a date which was heavily underlined, 6/8/09. A few months after the birth of our first son I found myself in a difficult employment situation. Two years earlier I had left what once was a near dream job to branch out into something completely new. I found myself working for one of the kindest and most patient men I have ever had the honor to meet. He was exceedingly gracious to this young man who was as out-of-depth as he was brash and arrogant. He led our organization with a quiet humility that I would only truly appreciate years later. Unfortunately, there were others in the organization seemingly bent on watching it all burn. Trapped between bottomless patience and endless viciousness, I writhed like a caged animal with no way out. It was a time of spiritual crisis where I simultaneously begged God for both victory and escape. For months I struggled and squirmed and whined until one day, 6/8/09, when I made the following journal entry:

Today is the day. I have been set free. This is not my struggle. It is not my fight. There is something else. Out There.

Little did I know that I was only two months, and an entire world, away from a life of diapers and bottles. If I had even a suspicion, I certainly had no idea how distant “Out There” truly was or how far I would be stretched beyond any previous understanding or experience. How far beyond “hard” I was about to travel. So, in August of 2009 I left the “working” world to be a Dad, only a Dad.

Our culture is trapped in a transition between two lies about parental roles. The first lie says that a man’s worth is tied up in the size of his paycheck, his ability to provide for his family. A woman is defined by her ability to bear and raise children. I had never been paid exceedingly well for any of my previous work, but the inability to quantify my full-time occupation with a number haunted me for months. It left the nagging question of what defines a man. Had I simply become a woman with a penis?

My little internal struggle was interrupted by a much more important crisis. Our eldest son, Jacob, was born with an enlarged left kidney. As we later learned, the ureter on that side was kinked where it left the kidney, preventing urine from flowing into his bladder. The backlog of urine would cause the kidney to swell until the pressure became great enough to push past the kink. As Jacob grew it was only a matter of time until the swelling became great enough to cause him pain. That time came when he turned one. Jacob would wake up in the middle of the night screaming with pain. There was nothing we could do to help the poor tiny child as his back arched in agony until the urine pressed past the obstruction. Jacob was scheduled for surgery, which went well, but there were problems with his recovery which led to the most difficult and perhaps most enlightening week of my life. Months later I wrote my thoughts on the experience:

Back in March I was driving home from the hospital at midnight. Nicole was at home with Jacob. His surgery earlier in the week to clear a blocked kidney hadn’t gone well. Urine had been leaking out of a hole in his side for days. The bags we had been given to collect the urine didn’t work – kept falling off. Thus the midnight trip for more supplies. I was exhausted, stressed, angry, and knew my son was headed for another surgery if he didn’t stop pissing out of his side. But then I realized something. This “family thing” is the greatest thing I’ve ever done. Nicole and I were given this challenge because we can handle it. To set aside yourself to care for a child who needs help, to be strong and love my wife while she loves and is strong for me is a gift more valuable than all the gold in all the world. This is why we say that God is good. 8/30/10

I had found my response to the first lie. Manliness isn’t found in a paycheck. It lies in the midst of the struggle to set aside yourself, abandon your own wants, desires, even hopes, to try your very best to be a blessing in the life of another person. Manliness lies in the broken and bloodied body of a man nailed to a cross for no crime other than love. In that one horrible week I had found a picture of manhood which I could pursue as a Stay-At-Home Dad. Am I just a woman with a penis? Maybe. But there is no shame in it. If this is the path I am called to travel, the cross to which I will be nailed, than it is the most manly of things to travel that road and hang on that cross.

The second lie our culture tells us is that whether man or woman, you can have it all. Being a parent doesn’t mean sacrificing careers, or even hobbies. You can pursue your dreams while outsourcing child care and still be a wonderful parent. Recognizing the realities of time and space reveals this lie as impossible. We are given a finite, unknown, amount of time in this life and every moment we choose to spend in one location is a moment we cannot spend in another. The basic reality is obvious, but I still fell for the lie.

I’m blessed with a mother who gives each of her children one day of free childcare every week. When I first began staying home I chose to use that day to pursue my master’s degree. With a baby who napped well, I was able to attend school almost full-time. Then the second son came. Caleb is a blessing sometimes disguised as a crazed chimpanzee. School slowed to a trickle and missed opportunities began to accumulate, and sting. Potential publications remained potential. Employment offers were turned down. Fascinating volunteer opportunities had to be ignored. My beloved bicycle sat in the garage, neglected. Anger and resentment began to build. It seemed so unfair that I sacrificed so much while friends went on to achieve success and my wife got to have a career. I loved those two little boys very much. But on many days I would have traded them for a career if I could have.

One day, obsessed with myself, I had a chance encounter with a man a Wal-Mart, a man who can only be described as an angel. In a few short moments of interaction he changed my entire perspective. I came to realize that this job I do means giving up any ambition I have of doing anything for myself. This goes far beyond surrendering my desire to have it all. It means surrendering even my expectation to plan my day when I wake up in the morning. It means that, to soothe an awakened child, I must set aside this writing right now . . . and not take it up again for hours, or days, or years, or perhaps leave it unfinished forever. And this is not only acceptable, it is the job and the job is exceedingly good.

It sounds insane, a grown man abandoning employment and ambition in order to change diapers, a lot of diapers, but it remains the greatest thing I have ever done. The opportunity to set aside whatever dreams I once had to allow my wife to pursue her own dreams is an opportunity to love which I had never imagined possible. The chance to raise three little boys, our third came just last month, is a challenge imbued with a goodness and depth of meaning beyond any rigor I could have anticipated. It is a challenge that is not about me, yet defines me. It is the role I was made for but never imagined. How do you raise a man to love both others and the truth? How do you teach him to be respectful but not deferential? How do you train him to be chivalrous but not condescending? And the biggest question, will I dare for baby #4 without hanging myself with my shoelaces? I can’t wait to find out.