by Greg

Natural Consequences

handsParenting is not for the faint of heart.

It starts out with no sleep, lots of messes to clean up (including many dirty bottoms per day), fussy meal times, and plenty of time just trying to figure out what makes this new person tick!

Then you reach the mobile stage and it become exponentially harder. Naps—a parent’s best friend in the early years—become less frequent, until they cease altogether. Here, the very early stages of exerting one’s autonomy begin with practice and mastery of the word, “No!”

And then, Mom & Dad are tired.

But the persistent, caring parent will see it through. Being consistent with expectations and consequences will help the young child understand what is required, and with proper instruction, learn what is good and what is bad. It certainly takes effort and ridiculous amounts of repetition, but in the end, the goal is establishing a foundation of respect (even love) for what is good and a healthy fear of what is wrong.

Then come the teen years.

We have a great teenager. Honestly, though we butt heads so much with our confident, brash, gregarious young man, he is heads and shoulders above many of his peers in many ways. (Don’t worry, I also frequently address humility and pride with our young protégé…) 🙂

However…

The biggest problem is this: when one is approaching adulthood, one begins to fancy himself as already sufficiently learned, thus shunning sage advice from elders. (Also, notably, one leans generally towards haste when of the male gender.)

And so, when I draw upon my nearly fifteen years of parenting experience, I often want to revert to previous parenting techniques—restrict! It’s very easy for me to observe and understand all the variables, and then establish the rules. “Don’t do that in response to this” or “Do this when …”

That’s easy, but is it really helpful?

The simple answer is, of course it’s not. The best way for anyone to learn is through experience, and even better, through failure. The natural consequences of our choices and actions (or inactions) will often teach us more than any lesson, speech, class, book, video, seminar… anything intended to train by instruction. Real life is nearly always superior.

Why then is it so difficult to allow natural consequences to instruct our older children? Not only would that be easier, in a way, it would also seemingly have better results, no? Is it maybe just me who struggles to allow poor choices to be the best teachers my son can have? Probably not.

Now, I’m certainly not advocating a complete relaxing of all rules. Surely there are some standards of behavior toward others in our home that must be upheld. But in regards to personal care, time management, taking care of personal possessions, work ethic, even money management, there may be more leeway. And, of course, aside from the general life skills—above all—we hope to instill in our children a good understanding of who Jesus is, and that they can trust Father with their whole lives. We won’t stop instruction, or offering advice, but might all be better off if Natural Consequences for choices and actions against that advice are allowed to teach rather than structured consequences, or stricter “rules”?

I really think that’s true. Difficult to put into action, but true.

Isn’t this a bit like grace? We are accepted—no, we were accepted before we even understood what grace is, and who Jesus is. We are sought out. Bought at an unfathomable price. The choice of the One who made all, owns and commands all … he pursues us. AND, he allows us full, unfettered freedom to choose to walk alongside him. We are not forced. So why do we persist in “forcing” our children?

I’m really not sure.

Honestly, this goes beyond parenting, doesn’t it? Why would we not want to allow more freedom—read: less judgment—toward others, if natural consequences are the best way to learn and grow? Rather than manipulative expectations of the others around us, perhaps grace and reasonable latitude are better for all—everyone; every time? At least, nearly every.

I intend to look for more ways to employ this philosophy. So look out—it might get a bit messy!

Somehow, though, experience has shown, the best things in life are often the messiest.

by Greg

The Masses [Church Book Excerpt]

There's The Steeple - Here's The Church | Greg Campbell | The Church BookI’ve decided to continue this series of excerpts from the book I published on the topic of the Church, titled, There’s The Steeple… Here’s The Church—I call it “The Church Book”. The rest of the Fridays in August will feature one selected chapter from the book! If you’d like to read the rest, click the book cover to the left to purchase your copy from Amazon.com! (And, thank you!)

The Masses

Last night we were leading worship at a local church and had a great time! The band were all good friends of ours, and good musicians. The songs were fun. The mood was pretty light. The room was full of people we love. It was great!

After our song set, we went out around back to sneak in and listen to the message, stopping in the lobby for dinner along the way, of course. That is always a hit-or-miss kind of thing, so we did get delayed a bit as we conversed with the various folks in the lobby over food and a leisurely stroll back to the main meeting room.

Once we finally made it, we caught up with the speaker in the middle of his message, and as always, it was great! Packed full of truth from scriptures, and good insights into those. A major theme of the portion we were able to hear was that God is so for us. The infinite God of the universe is not only for us, but he is with us. The fact that such a being would think of us at all, let alone favorably, is a life-changing truth. A truth that God has taught me over the past several years, and that I try to share with every opportunity I have.

What struck me about all of this is that in the middle of a setting that burdens my heart greatly (the polished presentation of all these things)… in the middle of that, there was deep, life-changing truth. There always is. Though I am often saddened with how much effort we put into the actual presentation of the knowledge of God, at its core, there is life-giving hope. We are offered an invitation to drink deeply of the daily life with our Creator, who no longer calls us servants, but calls us friends.

So what I realized again last night was that we just have this thing with efficiency. We figure, this stuff is so good, we want to reach as many as possible. And so, with all our might, we plan and organize, and schedule and rehearse, and build and build and build these elaborate structures (both edifices and programs) to attract as many as possible. We encourage all who attend to invite more people. We plan various outreach events to draw even more people. We tailor the events (including worship services) to be “accessible” to everyone, especially those who might just be “kicking the tires, checking under the hood” of this whole “church” thing. We work so hard to reach the masses, so as to tell as many people as possible in as little time as possible.

It’s not all geared toward the first moment of hearing and understanding the truth. The structures go deeper than that. The goal is to get people connected on a regular basis. To disseminate truth through the vehicle of large group gatherings. Giving the most people the best chance to hear what God is saying to them.

It all seems to make sense. Even as I type it, I think, “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” But last night, I heard a line, or had a thought, or something that reminded me that Jesus did not try hard to build a structure from within which he could reach the most people. He did not primarily hold public gatherings where he could speak to the most people at once. Jesus’ plan seemed to revolve around close friendships. Make disciples he told us. I have been told that a disciple is one who learns whatever they are learning, and then in turn they “learn” that to someone else.

Where I think we have missed a nugget of greatness that God intended for us is in this sharing of Kingdom things with our closest friends. This ownership of the truth by each member of God’s kingdom. It is the life-changing truth that we have experienced and that we know. Not by passing along a sermon tape (or CD, or even MP3 as the case may be), or even by bringing someone to a large group gathering. Just by sharing life over a cup of coffee. Over a lunch meeting. At the park while your kids play. On an afternoon walk. In the comfort of your homes. Out at a bowling alley. At the local McDonald’s. Not only do we miss the joy of those situations when we pour all of our effort into the structures for the masses, I think we even limit our effectiveness? I don’t like to use that word, but perhaps it’s true? Might God be able to work more mightily through three friends who care about each other, who in turn each have three other friends, who each have three other friends, who each have three other friends… on down the line till each person has a vital connection with someone vitally connected to the Life Giver?

Perhaps.

I wish that we would not focus on the end result so much. On the apparent successes of mass production. While good does come of it, I think we are missing the most important piece of being friends with God—sharing that friendship with his other friends. Directly. Not like watching a movie together, where we sit in the same row next to each other, as we learn about God. But directly sharing our lives, the daily learnings from God, the struggles, the successes, the hum drum and the magnificent.

That is the goal of our structures, but it seems to be missing as so much of our life and energy is poured into feeding the structure. Making it bigger and better, so as to reach more people.

Maybe we could be better spent?

htc-small
This post is a chapter in the book There’s The Steeple… Here’s The Church by Greg Campbell, available through Amazon.com. If you’d like to purchase the book, please click the book title in the previous sentence. If you’d like a free PDF version, it is available here. Also have some of the audio version available at church.gregshead.net. Thanks for reading, sharing, and feel free to add to the discussion in the comments below, or wherever else you can reach me.
by Greg

The Water Shoe [Memory Lane]

Continuing the series from the last week of July, we’ll been taking a trip down Memory Lane each Thursday in August! I will be posting some of my favorite stories ever published here. Some were taken from books (like today’s) and others have only been published online thus far. There are some funny, some sad, and some heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post to read more. I invite you to enjoy them (all) with me, too.

This was one of the most fun lessons in trusting God that we’ve ever seen actually worked out before our own eyes. It was truly incredible to be part of, and, all for only a tiny shoe.

The Water Shoe

October 29th & 30th, 2003

This collection of articles was written “real-time”, not after the fact (until the fact had actually happened) and so we wanted to present them that way, but we have put them together in one chapter calling it The Water Shoe. We still have the water shoe. It only cost us a few dollars at a Wal-Mart somewhere along the way, but it is now priceless for what—for Who—it represents. So, sit back and read the story of the day we found The Water Shoe…

Flowery Prayers

October 29th, 2003

I was humbled again. By my son Ian. I love it when he does that. Really.

We were praying, and sometimes Ian is a bit embarrassed to talk with God in front of people, even Mom and Dad. Tonight he was again, but He decided to.

A bit of background…

We went to the beach tonight after sunset (yes, the water was still quite warm!) and Ian and I were having a bunch of fun jumping waves. On one jump, over a large wave, Ian returned to the ground quite upset, and finally got out of him that he lost his water shoe!!! I spent 10 minutes feeling around for it, and looking around in the moonlit water. No luck. And all I could think about was the trust of Ian for his Dad to find his shoe (that seemed to me to be quite precious to him) and how I could not do it. So I kept thinking that God is in control of oceans. And I kept asking him to help me find it, wash it up on shore, or put it in my hand. Whatever he wanted to do for my son Ian who completely trusts both of his Dads. Well, no shoe, but I kept thinking that we should just come back tomorrow morning… so, I went back to Ian and told him that. And we are going to go back and look for it tomorrow morning.

So, fast forward to tonight, praying before Ian goes to bed. And Ian decides he can pray without getting embarrassed. He simply asked God to “please put the shoe on the beach so we can find it tomorrow. Thanks.” That was so cool.

The part that humbled me was not that. We continued to pray, and this time I was praying for our friend Kayla who is sick in the hospital with pneumonia. I thanked God for being big and powerful and asked him to help in many ways to heal Kayla, and to help Kayla’s Mom have peace as she trusts Him.

Simple. Plain English. That’s how I would talk to my dad, so that’s how I talk to my Dad.

But Ian wanted to pray for Kayla, too. So he did.

“God, we know that you are mighty, and powerful… and we ask you to… get the… to… uh…. (many words) … help the doctors get medicine to help Kayla’s body to get better. So she doesn’t die.”

Notice a difference? I did. Ian was getting all flowery (in his best four-year-old way… because I guess I do. I try hard to just be real with God. Guess I can try even more. I don’t want Ian thinking God is a distant, unapproachable God who only listens if we use the right words.

Thanks Ian for a fresh perspective.

Thanks Dad for Ian.

You are both awesome. (In different ways of course…)

Ian’s Shoe

October 30th, 2003

The Water ShoeJust a quick update on Ian’s shoe…

We got up this morning at 7am, which is like 3 hours before Ian usually gets up! We walked right out the door (Dad and Ian) and headed to the beach. We asked God as we walked to show us where He put the shoe… and we started looking. We probably looked for 30 min or so, up and down the beach where we had lost it. No luck. I finally told Ian, “Why don’t we go home and we’ll come back and see if God wants to give it to us later. Sometimes God likes us to learn to trust Him by waiting.”

So we did. We made it back to the beach around 1:30pm or so with the whole family, and started to look again. We were just having fun, too… but Ian really wanted to find his shoe. He said, “Ask God again, Dad!” I told him, “Yeah, I can’t do anything about this Ian. If God wants to give you your shoe, He will, if not, then we’ll just have to get another one.”

Within one minute I think, Ian had gone up to be with Mom (out of the water) and they started walking down the beach, and there were shouts of excitement… THEY FOUND IT!!! It was just sitting right in the beach wash (which Ian and I had checked at least 4 times earlier today).

Wow. Thanks God. You are the Wave Maker. The Oceans (and the Gulfs) obey your commands. And you love your children so much. We are amazed at God’s abilities and his love for us.

Hope you know that too.

From My Perspective

October 30th, 2003

I just wanted to add some more on the fantastic faith story of Ian’s water shoe. Just some thoughts from my head throughout the whole thing.

Can God Really Do It?

That thought obviously kept going through my head. In a way. You know, I really had no problem believing that God could bring Ian’s shoe out of the water and neatly onto the shore for us… but where my mind betrays me or gets me into trouble is on the “does he want to” side of things. I mean, what does God care about a shoe?

But He Cares About Ian…

But I kept coming back to the fact that it’s not about the shoe. It’s about how much God loves Ian—and even me—in this. He loves it when we come to him believing that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. (Hebrews 11:6)

Faith Like A Child.

You know, I actually saw Ian’s simple faith waiver a bit. But it wasn’t as insecure as my wavering. I wonder if God would ever do something big and God-like for me… but Ian didn’t worry about that. He just wondered when it would happen. He knew God would do it. That was so cool. I did too actually. It was honestly some of the most confident I have been in a while, and I just smiled every time I was talking to God cause I really knew He was going to do it.

Moments of Doubt.

There were plenty of moments when I had looked and asked and found nothing where I wanted to just give up. And I would talk to God again and ask Him what should I do… lead me to the shoe. (That rhymed…) I knew that even if God did not come through with the shoe, there would be some awesome story of His provision. I was confident in that.

Celebration!

You know, I honestly thought I would celebrate more. But all I wanted to do was smile and worship God. We sang some, we shouted out “GOD IS AWESOME!” and just had fun. But in the end, we were really expecting Him to do it! We knew he could, and we thought he would. Amazing.

I think that is how God wants us to live. Completely trusting Him, even when it doesn’t make sense, or seem possible. There are so many chances we have in life to trust that God is bigger. Sickness being one of them. Our friend’s daughter is really, really sick. And they love Jesus. A lot. They are in a crisis of belief. Can God fix this? Will he? Does he love us? They know all the answers, but now they have to trust him.

God gave Ian his shoe back today so he will have a reason to trust Him in the future with bigger stuff. Our friends are dealing with a very tough situation right now, where they have to trust God. God has given them plenty of shoes. That is what they are holding on to, and taking comfort in right now—the shoes God has given them.

What are your shoes? Can you think of one? Or several? God gives us little markers along the way where we see Him very clearly working or leading in our lives. And it’s when we look back at those that we can look forward in trust. Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. Words of wisdom from the book of Hebrews.

Faith requires action. God gives us reasons to trust him (shoes) and then something happens where we have to trust him. That’s when we remember the shoes, and trust that He has another one for us.

Tonight, celebrate Ian’s shoe, and remember yours. And thank God for his amazing love and faithfulness. And trust him. Really trust him.

Life in the Rearview Mirror: Reflections on Life Lived by Greg CampbellThis post is a chapter in the book A Journey Shared: Selected Thoughts on Life from Greg’s Head from GregsHead.net by Greg Campbell, available through Amazon.com. If you’d like to purchase the book, please click the book title in the previous sentence. Thanks for reading, sharing, and feel free to add to the discussion in the comments below, or wherever else you can reach me.
by Greg

The Rolling

rolling

Each day rolls on, paying no mind to me. My waking happens without my choosing, weariness creeps slowly back, until my body begs me to rest once more.

My body requires, and it returns. Food, water, air—all are processed by this body without my doing, though I do receive some pleasure in parts of the intake.

Heart pumps, lungs contract and release, even thoughts seem to fire across the pathways of my brain without my initiation.

And the days roll on.

If we are not careful, we slip too easily into the thoughtless thrum of life. So much happens without our say. Days unfold and close up again, one after another, so much the same. So many the same.

It’s easy to let life live itself.

But we are here. We have a part. We can choose to step along with the relentless autonomous. We are not merely observers, though some things we have not the capacity to alter. Nor even the desire.

Yet we stop to smile. To breathe. To love. To listen. To live.

Then we do it all again, with the next Rolling.

Today, I want to take part. Partake. Be part. I am. I will.

Breathe, taste, see, know, be. While all is rolling on, I have the power to do those things. And more. Think, make, read, consider, create. Care, share, serve, do. So many ways to exert my own unique additions to the Roll.

And though I exert, or pause to observe—still it rolls.

Even when our bodies weary to the point of expiration, all will continue. Ceasing our participation in the perpetual cycle, in a way exercising one last influence, breaking free.

Sun up, body up. Another day. Rolling. Lived, regarded, perceived, communed. Until all of me is spent by choice and by the Roll. Weary, welcome rest. Renew.

And roll on.

by Greg

My Indirect (and Disastrous) Encounter(s) with Endurance International Group

Endurance International Group, Inc. (EIG)This is a “for the record” kind of post. Perhaps you’ll find it as appalling interesting as I have while following all of the connected trails in my research.

A good while back now, in what was the early childhood of the “internets“, I began what is my current career of website hosting management and development. It began innocently enough as a desire to share our music online. (Did you know that there is a website that preserves previous versions of the web—like, the entire web?? Have a look at one of the earliest versions of our music site.)1

It Started Off So Well…

When I first moved into the world of web hosting, somewhere around 2004, I found a company named iPower (or iPowerweb) which offered very inexpensive packages with more features than I had seen elsewhere. What really convinced me was their reseller package, with a small team of tech support people who were available 24/7, knew me and my websites, and were very knowledgeable/helpful/professional. I was sold. This company was a relatively small “start-up” out of Phoenix who offered technical service and expertise, and excellent customer support.

(In the meantime, I found another small company who had a slightly better reseller package which allowed me to purchase a large server space and apportion it as needed, in my own packages, to clients as they needed. I signed on with them around the same time, too. Their biggest sell was the company’s owner/operator—a one-man-show—who was great at customer support. There’s a theme here!)

Meanwhile…

While I was merrily, blissfully plugging along in my burgeoning little web business, giant shark-like companies were smelling blood (or, money?) and swarming around these small-to-medium sized hosting companies, gobbling them up in large chunks.

Unbeknownst to me at this time, a company named Endurance International Group was acquiring small hosting companies left and right, and becoming this large conglomerate of very cheap web hosting solutions under various brands. You can see a rather comprehensive list (with sources) at the Wikipedia page for EIG.

But again, this was actually still unbeknownst to me.

Troublesome Signs

Somewhere around 2007, after a few years of great service from iPower, I noticed a sharp, nearly instantaneous decline in their service. I began to have all sorts of issues (email issues, server slowness/downtime) and on top of that, I would sometimes be on hold, waiting to chat with that stellar support team for 30-45 minutes! What?! When I was finally able to speak with one of the tech guys with whom I had built a working relationship over the three years or so, I was informed that they were making changes, and greatly reduced the size of the support team—which greatly reduced their support to their customers!

I was definitely saddened, but pressed on because I believed in this small company that had provided such great service to me and my clients for so long. What I didn’t know was that these changes were due to iPower being acquired by EIG.2

(Sadly, at roughly the same time, that other hosting company I was hosting the majority of my sites through was expieriencing their own failures—one after another! I endured this for longer than the trouble with iPower as I understood the difficulties of running your own business. That company was essentially a one-man operation, so I stuck it out as long as I could. But eventually, it was such a melt-down I had to exit that situation, too.)

The First Big Change

With the frustrating circumstances of this time period sufficiently endured, I endeavored to make another change, hoping for something similar to what I had found in 2004. I wanted a small company who had excellent customer/tech support as their primary characteristic.

I think it was somewhere around 2010 when I learned of HostGator through a web-development friend (and colleague). He vouched for their excellent service, including their customer support knowledge and availability, so I investigated and found them to be just what I was looking for. Within a short time (well, OK… about a month) I had moved over all of my large list of clients’ sites and domains to their service.

And I was pleased. Their servers were faster, tech team was available within minutes of calling, and generally very knowledgeable/helpful. I would get quick replies to any tickets submitted through their ticket system, and all around I was very much satisfied. (Even to the point of promoting them to anyone who was seeking hosting, or asked.)

And then…

Not Again!!!

Last summer there were bumps. Server down time, slower response to tickets, long hold times to get through to tech support, many “blunders” in server configuration causing trouble for my clients sites (as well as my own) … all VERY worrisome signs. They were just like what I had experienced with iPower.

I was growing frustrated again. How can this be happening? It’s only been two or three years that I’ve been with this company and the same thing is happening???

In the infamous words of Gru, “Light…bullllllb!”

Connection Established

Was it possible that these events were connected? I began digging. One clue after another led me to the company mentioned above: Endurance Group International, Inc. (EIG).3

Ah ha! I’m not crazy! thought I, somewhat relieved. Though, I was equally peeved that the companies with whom I chose to do business were “selling out” to this crazy web-hosting company eater, EIG. First iPower, now HostGator.

My experience is not unique. Another poor soul chronicled his experience with EIG, when his hosting company, WebHost4Life, was acquired by EIG. Oh, and look at their Better Business Bureau page… over 400 complaints! Ugh…

“The Blackout of 2013″—August 2, 2013

pulling-hair-out2Fast-forward to this past weekend. August 2nd, 2013. It has actually made it to the EIG Wikipedia page as part of their company’s entry! After months of trouble, I awake to find all of my sites are offline. Email, websites, everything. Here we go again! I dial up the tech support line and… busy signal! Ha! As I am discovering this, I am chatting online with my aforementioned colleague, who is equally affected by this August 2nd Blackout, since his sites are all still hosted by HostGator. We both decide right then, that morning, that we are jumping ship, NOW!.

A couple months prior, the HostGator changes had become unbearable for my biggest client and his websites that we develop/host/manage, so I spent a week investigating hosting options. I found a few that I liked, and settled on one that, again, seems to be a small company, committed to excellent service and customer support. I have had good success with them so far. (My praise for them is justifiably guarded (jaded?) by my prior experiences, as you can well imagine!)

I called up the fellow with whom I had spoken those months before and asked him very directly, “Will your company sell to Endurance International Group? I need to know, because that has happened to me twice, and causes so much trouble, wastes so much time!” His response was that the two owners of his company were actually on-site that day, and had been discussing specifically that potential scenario. He assured me that they had already rejected such an offer, and would steadfastly continue to do so.

SOLD!

Within hours I had set up the account, moved ALL of my sites over to the new Virtual Private Server (VPS) account, and began working on all that is involved with migrating hosting accounts.

This is never fun. Never.4

I emailed all my clients and told them of the emergency change. There have been a few bumps, but mostly we’ve made it through unscathed. I will be shutting down my HostGator accounts by week’s end, and ending any business relationship I have with EIG… until the next time?

Moral: BIGGER ≠ better

The moral of this not-so-short-story is that BIGGER IS NEVER BETTER!

(Unless you’re trying to make a point, with big letters?)

Somehow we have this idea that the “mass model” is best. Giant factories, mega stores… it never leads to good. It usually leads to bad service and meltdowns like I have experienced each time this has happened!

Stay small, folks. Focus on service, support, and relationship … even in business.

Because business still involves people. Doesn’t it?

My experiences with EIG (though I didn’t realize it was them until this year) have reminded me of that.

Stay small, local (when possible), and personal.

And don’t sell out to EIG!

  1. Note: this was actually probably a third or even fourth iteration of our website! Earlier versions were hosted on the free hosting service Tripod.com. Which amazingly still exists! Archive.org used to have the 20th century version of our website! Wow! Now the earliest version is August 2000, very similar to the 2001 link above. ↩
  2. Read the article from May 2007. It calls the move a “merger”, but my experience in 2012 with a different “merger” with EIG would suggest that it was more of an acquisition. (Especially when contrasted with my initial experience with iPower, before “merging” with EIG.) ↩
  3. One more connection, in 2011, EIG was “bought” (or funded?) by Warburg Pincus and GS (Goldman Sachs) Capital Partners. There are big piles of money changing hands here. ↩
  4. I found a couple pages detailing what is involved. Besides all of these steps, (1) something inevitably does not go as planned, and (2) it just takes time. Lots of time. Up to 72 hours of time. Most of that is the DNS propagation, meaning, the change of address for your domain name. Once that filters through all the checkpoints, you’re OK, but a lot of grief happens during that time! ↩
by Greg

The Simple Life

I have two friends who host a podcast called “Cultivate Simple“. It’s about working toward living simply, intentionally, in every area of life. They certainly are quite good at this, but I always chuckle at the title as I am also aware of the multitude of actitivies and responsibilities and events that dot their schedules. (To the point where these ‘dots’ often commingle into much larger ‘blobs’.)

Not too long ago, as I discussed our family’s schedule for the week with Jen, I saw many of my own dots chaotically infringing upon one another, and my own blobs growing unmanageable and out of my control.

And I longed for simple.

My heart nearly begs for simple. Maybe even my body. After a full day of celebrating Cameron’s birthday, I crashed on our bed—out like the proverbial light—much, much earlier than I would normally bed down for a night.

And though that longing is present and making itself known, here I am, amidst six growing-older children, a wife who loves to keep relatively full schedules, and running a couple of my own businesses, too.

Where and how do we find simple in the middle of all that life is? Is it possible to have a quiet, peaceful, serene, simple existence?

Perhaps my definition of simple is all wrong.

Simple. Simplicity.

simple |ˈsimpəl|

adjective ( -pler , -plest )
1 easily understood or done; presenting no difficulty : a simple solution | camcorders are now so simple to operate.
plain, basic, or uncomplicated in form, nature, or design; without much decoration or ornamentation : a simple white blouse | the house is furnished in a simple country style.
[ attrib. ] used to emphasize the fundamental and straightforward nature of something : the simple truth.

2 composed of a single element; not compound.
Mathematics denoting a group that has no proper normal subgroup.
Botany (of a leaf or stem) not divided or branched.
(of a lens, microscope, etc.) consisting of a single lens or component.
(in English grammar) denoting a tense formed without an auxiliary, e.g., sang as opposed to was singing.
(of interest) payable on the sum loaned only. Compare with compound 1.

3 of or characteristic of low rank or status; humble and unpretentious : a simple Buddhist monk.

4 of low or abnormally low intelligence.

Well I don’t think number four is the one I’m looking for. And I’m sure the mathematical and botanical applications are not … applicable here, either. So, am I looking for ‘low rank or status’? ‘Humble and unpretentious’? Yes. But do I live in such a way that is so other-than-that as to cause me to long for ‘simple’? Probably not.

So if I go with these definitions of ‘simple’, I think the second definition under number one might be the thing I am wanting most: “plain, basic, or uncomplicated in form, nature or design; without much decoration or ornamentation.” If you know me, you’re likely aware that I’m not much for ornamentation. I definitely lean toward “plain” and “basic”. (Ha! basic!)

But how—and why—am I lacking that? Where did this train run off the rails?

There’s a problem many of us have: saying ‘no’. Whether it’s out of fear that we might hurt another’s feelings, or whether our own reputation might be somehow sullied—we’re not great at saying, “No.”

There sure is a lot to which we can say ‘no’! There are probably dozens of physical and spiritual and relational and educational opportunities of which we could partake; and in our family, multiply that by eight! No, there is no shortage of chances to exercise our No Muscle.

But instead, we just keep saying yes.

Now, I may have an even more difficult time as I have inherited something of a defect. You see, I look at life as though it might be more conquerable than it truly is. I tend toward optimism, as I have said before. This will often—nearly 100% of the time!—causes me to misjudge the time it might take to do something, usually by at least half. It is quite likely, I believe, that such poor estimation of the duration of various tasks is a direct result of this inherited defect (from my dad) that we call “Cramming Ten Pounds into a Five Pound Bag Syndrome”.1

And boy do I have that… bad!

I don’t intentionally add things to our schedule for appearance (reputation) or for my own sense of accomplishment or anything of that sort. I think if I’ve crowded my schedule, it’s often because I either have those rose-colored, sure-I-can-fit-that-in view of my day or week ahead, OR because, I just forget that I don’t want to do that!

Thus, I frequently return to this place of longing for simple.

My podcasting friends hold solidly to the line of thinking that “simple” does not mean not busy. (Though I would say that they often long for down time, too.)

But isn’t there something to doing less?

I think much of this comes back to technology. As we increase the efficiency with which we do things (via technological advancement) we are able to do more, do it better, do it faster … and honestly, I think this makes us less. We are stretching ourselves beyond what we are designed to do. I will certainly continue this thought in a future post (it’s been ruminating for quite a while now), but to elaborate here would not be… simple.

And simple is what I’m hoping to rediscover.

We do lead a fairly simple life in some ways: we have one vehicle, we live in a relatively modest home, we are not extravagant in our spending, we are not members of many organizations, we like 80s TV shows… simple.

But I think there’s more. And if I do rediscover it in some areas, I’ll be sure to share those discoveries here.

Until then, I need to wrap this up so I can get ready for today’s three events. (Oh, and make breakfast for everyone, gather the laundry, send emails, prep dinner, pay bills, read the library book due back tomorrow, discuss several upcoming events with Jen, mow the lawn, play a word game or two, maybe play a game with Alex, brush my teeth, feed the fish, and save the world.)

Simple!

  1. This reminds me of the other verses I found when I was writing the post Messes. Right before where it says “children are a blessing from the LORD”, it says: “It is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones.” Admittedly, one thing that keeps me busy is needing to make money to feed our family. Perhaps God was gently nudging me here? ↩
by Greg

Stopped On A Dime [Memory Lane]

This week we’ve been taking a trip down Memory Lane! Each day this week I’ve posted one of five of my favorite stories ever published here. Some were taken from books (like today’s) and others have only been published online thus far. These are some funny, some sad, some heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post. I invite you to enjoy them with me, too.

This last post is one of our favorite stories ever! It features our oldest son and one of his first visits to the emergency room.

But I don’t want to give too much away, so…

Stopped On A Dime

May 3rd, 2005

DimeSaturday had gone pretty much as planned. We were just finishing up a long day of serving at our church. With sound checks and two complete run-throughs of the service, coupled with a half-hour commute each way, those Saturdays are long and tiresome. Especially for small children.

On our way home, Ian (our six-year old) complained of pain in his nose. We were curious, as it was not a normal complaint, but chalked it up to a strange case of sinus pressure and continued on our drive home.

I was putting away some things that had been left out in our rush to leave the house that afternoon, and getting ready for a bed-time snack and perhaps a little Star Trek with my wife, when I heard a commotion in the boys room. Jen was putting the boys in bed and Ian was loudly complaining about his nose. When the situation had my attention, I heard him say frantically, “There’s something in there!“

This piqued my curiosity of course, and I peered around the corner to see what in the world he was talking about. He was standing on his bed holding the left side of his nose with a very concerned look on his face. Still asserting that there was something in his nose. Then a look of resolution washed over his face. The light went on, and everything was ok. That’s when Ian revealed to us what had happened.

“Ohhh…. It’s probably the coin.”

Those were NOT the words I wanted to hear. Just by the way he said them, and the look on his face, his previously hidden childish mistake had been quickly and very certainly brought into the light. I left the room as my blood pressure went through the roof. The next morning was coming early enough… a hospital visit was NOT in my agenda for the evening!!

Ian continued to explain a bit to Jen what had happened. Those moments, truthfully, were a blur, as I was trying to just get a handle on my anger. Once I had a bit of control back, I picked Ian up out of bed, and laid him on the floor of the bathroom. I looked for the tweezers Jen had recently gotten from a garage sale, and began to perform exploratory surgery. Ian was crying, and blood started to appear at the base of his nose. I had not felt anything like a coin, and was not willing to pursue any farther this on my own.

“Get your shoes on, Ian, we’re going to the hospital!”

I was not happy.

On the ride to the hospital (which we made in record time… adrenaline is a marvelous thing…) I was trying to process everything, and scolding Ian for his insanity. What is it that makes kids stick things up their noses?!? In utter disbelief, and still quite fiery anger due to the late night visit to the ER, I continued my steaming. Finally, God got a thought in there I believe. I realized that it was really a great thing that Ian felt the coin before he laid down to sleep. Who knows what might have happened if he had gone to sleep with a coin in his nose? So, I quietly thanked God for that, while still making a few incredulous comments in Ian’s direction.

We arrived at the somewhat desolate hospital roughly 10 minutes after leaving home, and proceeded through what looked like the most obvious entrance. We found ourselves in the treatment rooms hallway, with a few nurses looking on. I figured that was not the right place, so we continued to look for a registration area. Finally made our way through some automatic doors and into a lobby/lounge area. There was an older gentlemen sitting with a teenage boy across from a tough-looking lady with glasses who appeared to be in charge. There was no sign saying “Registration” or “Sign In Here”, just a sign saying “Do Not Disturb”. Not being one to always follow signs, I peeked around the corner and quietly asked, “Is this where we register?” The lady at the desk fired the quick retort, “I’m with a patient, have a seat!” I sheepishly admitted I had not been to this hospital before, and was just looking to sign in. She reminded me to have a seat.

So we sat. And we waited. The bespectacled woman was lecturing the young man about his sexual practices as we waited quietly for our turn to face the tongue lashing. It was quite sometime, and perhaps a good chance for Ian to think about what he had done. He was growing visibly concerned. I tried to assure him, and we did pray together that God would make good out of this bad situation.

After 15 minutes or more, a much nicer looking lady came out from the back. She spoke with the two men in the registration room, and the other lady behind the desk, and offered advice and information in a decidedly softer tone. They seemed to resolve something after a couple minutes, and the gentler, taller woman with the stethoscope retreated from the office and seeming to almost debate in her head whether or not to approach us, she stepped our way.

“So how can we help you, young man?” she asked, directing her words to Ian.

“I stuck a dime in my nose.” he said matter-of-factly.

“You did? That’s not the best place to keep your money…” she said with a smile. She continued to figure out the situation a bit, and kept the mood light and reassuring for a now scared little boy. After a brief moment, she had a plan, and we were taken into another room.

We waited, and then were greeted by another nurse. She took down some information, quizzing Ian for any details he could recall. We laughed with her about the things she had seen other kids put in their noses. It was quite a list! After about 10 minutes there, we were directed to the office where the previously rough-looking lady greeted us with a smile.

I knew that she was not going to be as gruff as we were now supposed to be there. At least, I hoped she wasn’t! I was right. She laughed a bit – just to lighten the mood – at Ian’s predicament, shared some similar stories, and reminded him that it’s better to keep your money in the bank instead of in your nose. Ian agreed.

By the end of our little information interrogation, she plopped a little stuffed Fozzie Bear down in front of Ian. A little treat for a tired and still slightly concerned boy… with a dime in his nose.

We were ushered to the last room on the right – room number 8 – past several nurses and other hospital staff, and the occasional occupied room. There is no shortage of hurting people in the world. Not even in Wayne County. When we got to our room, we were told the doctor would see us shortly. I looked at the clock, it was 11:15 already! This was not good. I was just hoping that they would be able to dig out the dime fast so we could go home and get a little sleep!

The clock continued to approach midnight, and we were not getting any help. I kept wanting to call Jen to give her a progress report, but signs continued to warn me that cell phones were a no-no in the emergency room. So, we waited, and we talked. I kept trying to reassure Ian that they probably wouldn’t have to cut off his head this time. Not this time.

Finally, a tall, dark-skinned man came into our room, and began asking Ian about the dime that had found its way into his nose. After a few questions, the doc dove right in! He had a nurse bring him what he called the “nose tray” and once she had, he grabbed the tools and started diggin’!

First, he took a look with that lighted pointy thing they always stick in your facial orifices. He looked up, moved it around, looked down. Ian looked a bit uncomfortable, and the doc looked perplexed.

“I don’t see it in there yet. Did you feel it fall down in your throat?” he asked Ian.

“Nope. I felt it in my nose,” Ian stated matter-of-factly. He’s good at that.

“Oh.” To the point, but not reassuring words from the kind doctor.

He began digging in Ian’s nose with some interesting looking forceps. They could stretch open the nostril whilst the light continued to illuminate the nasal cavity. He dug for a while, then repositioned the light, the dug for a while more. All making Ian squirm a bit. Still, no luck.

“I think it may have fallen back down into his throat and he may have swallowed it.” The doctor was fairly certain that this was our explanation. At this point, I believed him, but had a nagging and really annoying feeling that perhaps Ian had made this whole thing UP!?!? I didn’t really think so, but that was certainly creeping into my mind…

“I am going to send him over for some x-rays to see if he swallowed it. Stay here, and someone will come to get him for the x-rays.” And with that, he was gone. I checked the clock, and we were right at about midnight. Two hours… no coin.

After a bit more waiting (there seems to be a lot of that in a hospital) an x-ray dude came and took us to the room where they would take a look inside my son. A rather strange phenomenon, but I hoped it would get our heads to our pillows a bit more quickly.

We followed him into the room, and he began to set up the machine to take its photos. I found it curious that he appeared to be setting it up to capture Ian’s chest. That was what the doctor had relayed to him – check to see if he swallowed it – but still, I thought surely they would have to check in his nose, since that’s where he put it. The technician flawlessly captured two images of Ian’s innards. He and another x-ray dudette took a gander at them on that little LightBrite thing they use and surprise! No dime! It was then that the other tech offered the brilliant idea (with a hint of sarcasm) that we scan Ian’s head, to see if it’s still in there!

So, we did.

Ian stood by the face x-ray machine. They prepared him for the photo, and snapped a shot from the back of his head. After processing the film, and placing it on the LightBrite panel… THERE IT WAS!!!!! We have first contact! There was very clearly a white slash in the middle of Ian’s head that was not supposed to be there! The second tech said we should take a profile shot to verify where it was located. They proceeded to set Ian up one more time, and after processing the film, this is what we saw…

A dime in a boy's headRight in the very middle of my 6-yr-old’s bony little head was stashed exactly 10 cents. Not the first place you might look for loose change. Perhaps under the couch cushions, or in his pockets – or even better, in the washer after forgetting to check his pockets. But usually not the CENTER OF HIS HEAD.

At this point, after the hour of 12:00am, we are all a bit amused by the whole thing, and happy to have located the wandering currency. We return to room number eight, and await the official removal procedure from the doctor.

It was at this point, about 12:15am that I was able to finally call Mom and let her know that we found the coin. Unfortunately, Mom had long since fallen asleep. But, the message was left, and with great anticipation of returning home shortly following the call. Little did I know what was about to happen next!

The doctor told me that the coin was lodged at the back of the nose, just above the throat. He could approach the coin through the nostril, or from underneath through the mouth. He preferred the nostril, and looked at me as though asking, “Do you concur?” To which, if it had not been 12:15am following a painfully long day, I might have responded without a verbal cue, “I concur.” Alas, I was only able to mutter, “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.” Leaving me mumbling to myself afterward, “I should’ve said concur! I should have said, “I CONCUR!!!”

(See Catch Me If You Can to fully appreciate the above paragraph.)

So we found ourselves back where we started, in room number eight in Newark-Wayne Hospital, with Dr. Nwokonko sticking very long metal instruments down Ian’s left nostril. This was not a pleasant experience for Ian. He was definitely learning the cost of putting a ten cent piece up your nose. It was clearly a painful experience, so the doctor used some numbing gel on the end of a 10″ swab and after what seemed like a token swab of Ian’s nostril to numb the pain, he proceeded down, and down further, and then even further down inside Ian’s nose. He was attempting to dislodge the coin, and hoping it would fall into Ian’s mouth, and we could get it from there. No luck. That coin would not budge. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t grab it, and he couldn’t push it out.

A bit stumped, he said, “I think we should go back to x-ray.”

I thought, “Oh boy! Are we going to keep taking pictures after every attempt? Just to see where it is now?” Thankfully, Dr. Nwokonko let me in on his plan, by explaining it to the x-ray technician.

“I’d like to do a [insert big fancy medical word here] on him so we can see where the coin is and be able to reach it that way.”

Cool! An x-ray video!!! Awesome, Ian!!! They’re going to shoot a video of your skull!!!

(Sorry… I was tired. And easily amused.)

So, as they prepped that machine we got to talk a bit with Dr. Nwokonko. (By the way, exactly how much do all of these fancy procedures cost, anyway? I know in Star Trek they are free… but this ain’t no Star Trek…) We found out his name, Dr. Nwokonko. Found out that he is from Nigeria. And that he occasionally works the night shift, but does not prefer it. He is a gentle, kind man. I am glad he was on that night.

After a few moments, we were ready to proceed. We went into the room, and got suited up with lead aprons. I thought it was amusing that the doctors and technicians wear full body armor while they shoot laser beam x-rays through Ian’s naked head. Doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you? Oh well…

They turned it on, and there was Ian’s head, and the dime. The procedure began. Having his target in visual range, Dr. N probed deeper than before, and Ian could feel it. My poor little boy was definitely tired by now, shortly after 12:30am, and had less tolerance for this much more aggressive treatment. My previous anger had definitely subsided, and though I may appear at times to be tough-skinned, that was a moment I would rather not relive. There was some pain in his cry, but perhaps more fear, and just desperation. It was definitely hard to remain behind the screen. I just wanted to come hug him, hold him. I offered words of encouragement best I could.

Despite what seemed like endless probing, and screaming, and Dr. Nwokonko repeatedly saying in his thick accent, “Sorry…” we were unsuccessful. The coin was just out of reach. He stopped his attempts to reach it, and just started talking with the tech about what they might try next.

This is my favorite part of the night…

Ian's self portrait of the dime in his head

Ian’s self portrait of the dime in his skull. 🙂

It was at this point that my amazing 6-yr-old son began offering his expert medical opinions. The doctor was saying that perhaps he would try the smaller forceps (thinking that perhaps the larger ones were too wide to reach far enough in.) To that Ian quipped, “I was thinking that bigger ones would work better…” It was sooo funny! The tech looked at him and she said, “You are quite a character!” He is too cool.

Well, despite Ian’s advice, Dr. N left to get the smaller forceps. Ian continued to offer some opinions and a little color analysis of the previous attempts to remove his nasal-stashed coinage. It was late, but the mood was still a bit light. We all hoped that this would be our last attempt.

Dr. Nwokonko returned, with the smaller forceps, and we turned the machine back on for one more try. Not appearing to be as patient this time, the doc dove straight in and Ian screamed again. In between cries, he did manage to get out, “Can you reach it fast, pleeease???” Even in extreme discomfort, Ian is polite to his elders. The idea seemed to be working, and Dr. N was very close to grabbing the coin. He reached and Ian squirmed, and he reached some more.

Then with one quick motion, the coin in the image moved, and was pulled completely out of Ian’s tired little head!

We were all quite relieved, and happy – especially the little boy who started us on this adventure in the first place. As he would later explain, he was “just trying to get a booger.”

We went back to room eight, awaiting discharge. Ian talking most of the time about his experience that night, and how he would never, ever stick anything in his nose again! I bet not! The female x-ray tech got us a copy of the x-ray they had taken with the clearly visible Eisenhower lodged in the center of Ian’s head. Ian also got a little care package from the hospital folk. And, lots of smiles as we walked out.

We drove home quickly, and at nearly 1:00am, Ian hit his pillow, ten cents lighter.

What a night! What a day! One we will not soon forget.

And all for only a dime.

Life in the Rearview Mirror: Reflections on Life Lived by Greg CampbellThis post is a chapter in the book Life In The Rearview Mirror: Reflections on Life Lived by Greg Campbell, available through Amazon.com. If you’d like to purchase the book, please click the book title in the previous sentence. Thanks for reading, sharing, and feel free to add to the discussion in the comments below, or wherever else you can reach me.
by Greg

Misdiagnoses [Memory Lane]

This week we’ve been taking a trip down Memory Lane! Each day this week I’ve been posting one of five of my favorite stories ever published here. Some are taken from books I’ve published and others (like today’s) have only been published online thus far. These are some funny, some sad, some heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post. I invite you to enjoy them with me, too.

Today’s adventure was one that little Julia would just as soon forget! What started as a routine, Sunday night visit to the Emergency Room at our nearest hospital, unfolded into a full-blown medical catastrophe! Rather than give away too much here in the introduction, I’ll simply give way to the story as originally told, Misdiagnoses.

Misdiagnoses

August 14th, 2012

It’s been an interesting few days here in the Campbell home.

(I know… when isn’t it, right?)

You see, it all began with a phone call from Grandma. (Well, sort of.)

Last Wednesday, Julia and Dad (that’s me) went out for an OK Night. Just Julia and Dad out on the town. McDonald’s for french fries, games, and play place. Then we hit a couple more places before the night was through. It was a blast!

And the best was still to come!

The next afternoon, Mom drove Julia, her two sisters, and their baby brother, Cam, over to meet Grandma who would take all four youngest kiddos back home with her for three days! They were so excited!

The first night was just wonderful. They love being at Grandma and Grandpa’s house! They even enjoyed a big buffet for dinner. Nice!

(We four back home were having good fun of our own, too!)

But then came Friday.

Now, whether it was the food she ate at the buffet… or the PlayPlace the day before that… or just something else entirely, we still don’t know. What we do know is that that afternoon Julia began throwing up.

(Yes, I said “began”.)

It was probably only a few times, but it was quite unexpected (and messy, according to Julia) so it just caught everyone off guard. Grandma even called us asking, “What do I do??”

“Keep her hydrated and plenty of rest,” was our best advice, not ones to jump to the medicine route. So sad, but Julia wanted to stick it out, and Grandma did, too.

Well, a day of rest on Friday seemed to do the trick. Fever had subsided, throwing up had ceased (though she was still battling the “other end”…) and she even perked up a bit, becoming her regular chatty self.

Whew! Glad that’s over…

NOPE! 🙂

Saturday morning they went to a park. Julia played. And played. When they got back, she was completely spent, hurting, tired, and “out for the count”. She slept on the ride over, and looked pretty bad when she got out to come inside our house. Still had a fever, too.

She went right to the couch and laid down.

We ate dinner (she ate something else… I think?) and made it through the rest of the evening till bedtime.

At this point, as I’m getting everyone ready for bed, Jen comes and tells me that she thinks it might be something more serious than just a little bug, so she wanted to call the doctor and see what they thought. I figured they’d probably just tell us to call them Monday, but it couldn’t hurt. Well, to my surprise (maybe Jen’s, too?) they suggested we bring her to the nearest emergency room to have her checked out, based on what Jen had described to them over the phone.

Interesting. But, they were just thinking it might be some sort of infection thing that could need antibiotics. They just wanted to be sure.

Sure would have been a welcome thing in the hours that followed.

(Yes, hours.)

I’m sure that you, the reader, are aware that late at night on weekends, hospital emergency rooms can have long wait times. Well, as Jen tells it, they actually got in pretty quickly. But, once they did a quick once-over of Julia, they decided (thanks to her not having been “immunized”) that they needed to run every possible blood test. Fun!

No. Not fun.

Jen and Julia left our house at around nine o’clock pm. The hospital is 10-15 minutes drive from our home. They got in rather quickly… but then waited HOURS for the follow up tests.

(Meanwhile, back at home… I have put the other five to bed, enjoyed some quiet reading time, and at this point, started to wonder why I hadn’t heard from the hospital-bound duo. It was 11:45pm and I still hadn’t heard anything! I decided to call and get an update… voicemail! By about 12:10, still having heard nothing, I tried the phone again… and again, voicemail! Worried something had gone wrong, I remembered that I can “Find My Phone” thanks to Apple’s clever technology! I just hoped they weren’t in a ditch somewhere, or worse!! I was relieved to see the phone located in the parking lot of the hospital. 🙂 Jen had left the phone in the van … so a quick call to the hospital and the nurse filled me in.)

BUT THEN…

(I know… how does it always go like this? Can’t it ever just be simple, and go exactly according to plan??? Guess not…)

Around 2:00am, they are still waiting for blood tests, filling Julia with an IV, and now there is some concern that perhaps what she has is appendicitis! In fact, it was such a concern that they ordered a CAT scan for her. That meant, in her very tired, very sick condition, she had to down a large cup of bad-tasting liquid, then wait two hours… and then they would scan her to see if the appendix was inflamed/infected, or whatever it might be.

Two HOURS!? That’s 4am, folks. For my poor, sweet, sick, tired six-year-old Julia!!

At this point, I finally grabbed a few fitful naps… only half-sleeping in case I received a call from Jen, updating me on their progress. I awoke every thirty minutes or so, praying each time I did that Julia could rest, and that God would help the doctors find whatever might be causing this.

At seven o’clock, I awoke again, and found no van, no call.

Time to check in, I thought. So I called our cell phone and talked with Jen, who informed me that they were pretty sure it is appendicitis, and they have scheduled an operation for about an hour from now when the surgeon was to arrive.

!!?

SO, we went from a stomach bug, to a possible minor infection requiring anti-biotics to… emergency surgery???!

It seemed that was the consensus, so I jumped to action.

I definitely wanted to be there—before the surgery—but our van was already at the hospital. And, well, I had the other five kids here! They were all sleeping still, of course, but I couldn’t just leave them, even if I did have a ride!

The wheels were quickly turning in my head. I called Grandma & Grandpa to let them know how the adventure that had begun at their place had escalated. Then I talked with our neighbor about getting a ride to the hospital. Then, deciding to leave the kids in the care of our oldest, Ian, I woke up Alex so that he could stay with Mom while I came back to get everyone else (once Julia was in surgery).

All was going mostly according to plan. We were getting pretty close to eight o’clock. I was hoping that they were running later rather than early.

Alex and I got out and thanked our neighbor for her kindness, bringing us to the hospital so early on a Sunday morning. We rushed inside and asked where to find Julia and her Mom. They said she wasn’t on their list, so that probably meant she was already in the operating room. (No!!) But, they weren’t certain of that, and pointed us in the direction we needed to go.

A brief elevator ride later, we were at the Operating Room area. But… where was everyone? The OR was dark, and there was literally no one in sight?

Weird…

We went down a hall that we knew was not the correct direction or location, but we finally found someone who could perhaps get us to where we needed to go. She tried. She really did. But we kept coming up empty. No Julia anywhere!!

I was really sad that I didn’t get to see Julia before they operated on her! But I just wanted to find Jen at this point, and find out what was going on.

Finally we were sent back downstairs to the ER, where another nurse recognized Julia’s name and took us to the room she had been in that night.

To our surprise—good, happy surprise—there sat Mom, with Julia beside her on a hospital bed. (Looking really, really tired, weak, and sick!)

“Well, hi!” said I. “What is the meaning of all this!?”

I didn’t really say that. But it sounded more fun that way, didn’t it?

Jen explained that the surgeon took a look at the CAT scan results, did his own examination, and he said he was pretty sure it wasn’t appendicitis!

While quite confused, I was certainly relieved. No one wants their six year old daughter to go “under the knife” … do they?

As Jen was explaining, the surgeon returned and explained a bit more that, from everything he observed, and after consulting with another pediatrician that morning, he was fairly certain it was not appendicitis, and that Julia would be able to go home, take a little Tylenol for her fever, and just stay hydrated. “She should be fine.”

Stomach bug… infection… appendicitis/emergency surgery… she’ll be fine.

Hmm. 🙂

And so, we went home. Julia (and Mom!) slept nearly all of the day. As the day went on, she perked up more and more. We finished the day with a movie, and all went to bed feeling very, VERY relieved.

This morning, Julia went back to the doctor to make sure things were progressing as the surgeon had hoped. After her Sunday night experience, Julia was very apprehensive. She really didn’t want to go through all that again!! We assured her (as far as we could tell) it wouldn’t be like that again, and thankfully… it wasn’t. The current diagnosis is some sort of bacterial thing in her intestines.

What will it be tomorrow?!

For now, our little girl had a much better day, was smiling and playing through much of it, and is now peacefully sleeping.

Which is where I plan to be soon…

What a wild, crazy series of events! And all thanks to a handful of well-intentioned misdiagnoses.

by Greg

Will You Let Me Love You? [Memory Lane]

This week we’ve been taking a trip down Memory Lane! Each day this week I’m posting one of five of my favorite stories ever published here. Some are taken from books I’ve published and others (like today’s) have only been published online thus far. These are some funny, some sad, some heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post. I invite you to enjoy them with me, too.

Today’s story belongs to our lovely little Emma. She is the youngest girl and both a beauty (inside and out) and a genuine spitfire! Vibrant, full of life, vivacious, alluring… that all sums up Emma.

In this story, however, Emma’s softer side is revealed. In fact, I think you’re going to need to go get some tissues before reading any further.

Got ’em? OK, here we go.

Will You Let Me Love You?

February 12th, 2011

Sometimes babies do dumb things. OK, a lot of the time. But usually (really almost always) they are really cute doing them, so, you tend to pretty easily forgive. (That and, they’re all fairly new on the job, so, you cut them some slack.)

Well, today, Emma (who is 2, almost 3) decided she would live up to that.

After her baby brother’s nap (he is 1), she joined him in his crib for a little bouncy fun. Well, the bouncing turned stale I guess, and she thought it would be fun to involve the curtains in the play. It might have been fun at first, but then she jumped a little too high, and pulled a little too hard… and…

The curtain rod is no more.

I came down from my office to get them and noticed that the window did not look right. A quick glance downward revealed the nature of the change in appearance, and I just shook my head in frustration. I surveyed their faces and surmised that Emma was the culprit. (She admitted as much within a few seconds of my assessment.) I scolded her, and removed them from the crib and examined the damage to see if it was reparable. It was not.

So I left the room frustrated and, was also frustrated with Jen that they had somehow escaped her custody. I was just frustrated.

Skip ahead through dinner (steaks!), and bath (fun!), to Emma’s bedtime. She is once again in her brother’s crib (how else can you say good night to him??) and that brings back to her mind the events of the early evening.

“The curtain is broken,” says a sad-voiced Emma.

“Yeah, it is,” says Dad, matching her tone. “But it’s OK, I can fix it.” I even began sort of propping it up to hopefully block some of the morning sunlight.

“Will you let me love you, Dad?” came the sheepish, sullen request.

It took a few seconds to register. I am not sure I’ve ever heard those words strung together, or spoken like that. In our family, we learned that when we wrong each other, rather than saying, “I’m sorry,” which is nice, but leaves the offender still very much “in control”, we feel it’s more appropriate and meaningful to approach the offended, and humbly ask their forgiveness: “Will you please forgive me (for [insert offense here])?”

That is what Emma was asking. She may have been mimicking the tone and phrasing (her own interpretation) of what she’s seen, but I think it was also coming from her heart. And her two-year-old brain actually revealed something amazing to me.

“Will you let me love you” is, in effect, what we’re asking when we ask for forgiveness. Yes, that we’d be forgiven, and receive love from the offended, but also that we’d be allowed to freely give love, too! How could Emma know that? But that’s the great thing! She does!. Jesus said we should be like little children… and that is why. To Emma, life is very simple. Very relational.

(It’s also about candy. And rubber chickens. And frequent screaming. But that’s for another blog post…)

Tonight, Emma got it right. And she got a great big hug and kiss.

And I definitely let her love me. 🙂

by Greg

Detective Dad [Memory Lane]

This week we’re going to take a trip down Memory Lane! Each day this week I’ll be posting one of five of my favorite stories ever published here. Some are taken from books and others (like today’s) have only been published online thus far. These are some funny, some sad, some heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. I invite you to enjoy them with me, too.

Today is Cameron’s birthday! So this day’s Memory Lane will feature two Cam-centric posts! This is the second post for July 30th. Enjoy! (And happy birthday, again, to our littlest boy!)

Detective Dad

February 13th, 2012

Sometimes as a Dad, you find yourself in the role of detective. The cases are often thrust upon you quite circumstantially. There may not necessarily be a victim, who comes to you asking for the mystery to be solved. Often, the clues lie before you and it’s up to you, Detective Dad, to solve the unexpected puzzle.

Today was such a day.

This time I found myself sorting through the various clues in reverse order. I had dismissed them previously, as just a normal part of the managed chaos of a home with a two- and a three-year-old. With such folk around it is not uncommon to find a toy here, a puzzle piece there, an article of clothing pretty much anywhere. Very easy to think nothing of such “clues”—missing the fact that they point to a great, unsolved mystery.

The final piece of the puzzle today was the sugar bowl spoon.

As I began to prepare some yerba mate this morning, I opened the sugar bowl to discover that the spoon was coated in sugar. This happens, of course, when the spoon has gotten wet and then is placed once again into the sugar bowl. Being quite fastidiously against this action, I knew instantly that my sugar had been “disturbed”.

A quick recall of (many) past events allowed me to quickly piece together the evidence and reach a(n easy) conclusion. Pieces of evidence like the cars discovered in the hallway… the sugar bowl on the floor, rather than in its proper place—which I had overlooked before, since on occasion in my haste I have left it there, not properly replaced to its comfortable home amongst my various beverage supplies. Everything was pointing convincingly to the obvious culprit.

You see, a while ago Cameron discovered that there was a quite readily available supply of the white stuff just a staircase away. And often, it was completely unguarded! What more could a two-year-old sweet tooth as for???

Now it seems he has gotten a little better at covering his tracks, though. Previously I would find the sugar bowl, lid off, sugary spoon on the carpet, surrounded by piles of white crystalline evidence everywhere. (Plus, stray crystals in and around the various mugs that surround its normal resting place.)

Once—and only once—I found the lidless bowl ON my comfy reading chair, much of the contents all over the cushion, the footsool, and the surrounding floor are.

As I said, that only happened once. 🙂

Another time, the sugar bowl evidence—coated with dampened sugar—hidden around the corner in a narrow storage alcove, well out of view of any who might stumble upon his enjoyment of the “forbidden” treasure.

He’s no dummy. And he sure loves his sugar!

So today, thankfully (I think?) there was only the mess of a wet spoon returned to my sugar bowl. Otherwise all is well. Not sure how much he ate, but the bowl is only half-full now … could he have eaten half?? Hopefully not, for his sake!

When I next speak to Cam, I’ll remind him again that this delight is off limits. Again. Not sure what effect it will have. I’ll just have to keep a vigilant eye towards all those small evidences of crimes against my beverage stand.

And for now… remember to lock the door. 😉