Tag / Jen

by Greg

Christmas All Year Round?

Christmas GiftWe’re getting really, really close to Christmas Day. Have you noticed? Throngs of folks out picking up gifts for everyone they love—and maybe some they don’t—all hoping that the recipient will feel the love held for them by the giver through the gift chosen and given.

It’s kinda fun, actually. (Except for the “throngs” part. Crowds are not my… “thing”.)

But tonight as Jen and I were out getting a few last things for the Big Day, I couldn’t help but think (and say… I’m still not very good at ever not saying something that I think…) that perhaps the reason I don’t involve myself in the gift giving frenzy as much as many others I observe is this: I love to give gifts every day!

That probably sounds weird… I’m not constantly looking for, purchasing, nor ever wrapping in colorful papers various items perfectly suited to all of my family members, extended relatives and close friends and presenting them to them at equally various gatherings at homes. I’m really not.

But I do like to buy things for the people I love. (Even some I just like.)

Tonight we stopped by a Goodwill thrift store which we frequent. As I am wont to do, I browsed the book section and found several good reads, most of which were for a couple of my children. I found one for my daughter—which, given the proximity to December 25th, will be a Christmas present… so… SHH!—and another for our son, who will turn fourteen this coming Tuesday. (Yep! Christmas!)

As I was picking that one out, I thought we might give it to him for Christmas… then perhaps that it could be a birthday gift. Then I just chuckled to myself as I considered just giving it to him tonight!

Jen is a good sport. She LOVES everything about giving (and receiving, I think) gifts on Christmas Day. She plans for, perhaps, up to the entire year before the day and has a big list of everyone in our somewhat large extended family. She must have equal gifts for all (at least those in our household); if not in quality, then in quantity… but really in both. I, on the other hand, am almost never thinking about “what to get [insert relative] for Christmas”. EVER.

Sometimes we’re quite an odd pair. 🙂

Jen said she would support my decision, whatever it may be, on when to give that newly purchased book to Ian. So, I decided to save it for another birthday present. Ian loves books… and I love Ian… and birthdays are about loving the one you love with something they love (at least, in some ways?)—so I chose birthday.

But I had purchased another book that seemed more appropriate to give to Ian upon our return home.

After coming in the house with a few bags of goodies, I began to dole out the books from our little Goodwill bag. I gave Ian the book on grammar that I intended to give to him tonight. He smiled and graciously—even excitedly?—received it. Then I pawed through the remaining half-dozen books for myself, or Jen and others, honestly forgetting that I had chosen to give one of the remaining ones to Ian for a birthday present!

As I lifted that book out, Ian had momentarily glanced somewhere else, so I was able to successfully drop it back in the bag, without him catching a glimpse of the cover. Whew!

Ian laughed and said, “Dad, you’re really not very good at Christmas gifts. You can’t keep your gifts secret!” (Or, something like that.)

Perhaps he’s right. Maybe I’m just impatient? Once I’ve found and acquired a gift for someone I love… I must give it! Maybe that’s it.

But it’s something else.

I really do think that I live a lifestyle of giving. (Note: I am not claiming to be the most generous person, or anywhere close to that.) If I see something that reminds me of someone, or that I know they would love—I get it for them. It doesn’t have to be their birthday, or Christmas, or even Flag Day!. And then, the next time I see them, I give it to them. It’s fun to give!

I know I’m the weird one here. I know people (my wife chief among them) LOVE everything about the Christmas gift-giving season. I know. But I think I might love the other way even more. (And, as already stated, I certainly do participate in the Christmas version of gift giving, too… it just feels funny around this last few weeks of December when I do my normal buy-something-for-someone-because-I’m-thinking-of-or-reminded-of-them thing, but “have to” hold on to it—and even wrap it—because the calendar tells me so.)

It’s at least slightly humorous, isn’t it?

Christmas is now only two days away! Not much longer must I wait to distribute the handful of gifts I’ve saved up over the last month or so. (Whew!) AND, just a few days until I can go back to giving gifts any day I’d like! (Again, whew!)

Does anyone else feel that way? Am I completely alone on this one?

It could very well be! 🙂

Merry Christmas, reader. Enjoy the day, and the greatest Gift of all: Emmanuel!

by Greg

Real Stuff

I am not a food or nutrition “nut”. (And I can’t imagine I’d ever be accused of being so.) But I do keep moving more and more toward making sure that I and my family are eating actual food. Both because of health, and because of taste!

However, there are some holiday traditions (and family traditions) that transcend the “eat real food” principle.

Cool Whip would be one of them.

Much of the fluffy white stuff was consumed atop much pumpkin pie over the past two days (and likely more will be today). There was mention of perhaps purchasing real whipped cream, but that idea was quickly chastised, and Cool Whip was the one and only choice.

And I do admit, it does not taste bad. But as I sampled it, I thought, This doesn’t even have any milk in it, does it? To my surprise, it does: Skim milk and a small amount of light cream. Still, when you see the rest of the ingredients—and you know that whipped cream, at least from scratch, is just whipped heavy cream, and maybe vanilla—you do begin to wonder why anyone would put this substance inside their bodies…

Friday was leftover day, and that meant copious amounts of turkey were consumed throughout the day. Well, what is turkey without mashed potatoes, right? Due to other events scheduled for the day (Ian’s playing in a hockey tournament, and he had two games on Friday!) there was not time to properly address the lack of mashed potatoes problem. Being resourceful—and apparently lax in principle—I grabbed the box of instant mashed potatoes we had sitting in our pantry. (I think it may have been a gift from some friends last Thanksgiving!)

As I was making the fake potatoes, I thought of several things. First, Jen and I used to eat these regularly when we were first married. I think that’s because, second, my Mom used to make potatoes from a box when I was a teenager. (Maybe younger, too.) She makes the real stuff for all holiday family gatherings, now, though. I don’t think I made real mashed potatoes until just a few years ago. Now that’s all that I make, exclusively (…except when we have this box, and we’re in a hurry.) 🙂

When they were finished and I whipped up the little flakes into what resembled mashed potatoes (though somewhat plasticky/rubbery) I recounted those thoughts to my kids as we ate them. Again, they didn’t taste bad—in fact, our eight- and six-year olds sang their praises—but all I could think about was what a bad substitute they are. And I wondered, too, if the list of ingredients could be as crazy as Cool Whip?

Well, let’s have a look at the two pseudo foods I’ve mentioned here, shall we?

Cool Whip

Water, hydrogenated vegetable oil (coconut & palm kernel oils), high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, skim milk, (<2%...) light cream, sodium caseinate, natural and artificial flavor, xanthan and guar gums, polysorbate 60, sorbitan monostearate, sodium polyphosphate, beta carotene (color).

Instant Mashed Potatoes

Idaho® potatoes, with emulsifier (mono and diglycerides from vegetable oil) and preservative (sodium acid pyrophosphate, sodium bisulfite, citric acid, mixed tocopherols).

Note: The potatoes we had were the Aldi brand, Chef’s Cupboard (I think), and not Hungry Jack. But I figured they’re close enough for the representative photo.

After I read those lists of ingredients to the kids, I got out the bag of potatoes and read the “ingredients” on that: Potatoes. (And we had mentioned that whipped cream is just cream, again, one thing, with maybe some flavoring.)

“Which of those sounds more like something you would eat?” I asked with a knowing smile.

“The potatoes,” said a chorus of children in confident unison.

So my final question here is, what is wrong with us? Why do we put that stuff in our bodies? Is it only because it’s cheaper? Easier? Is it really because of the taste? (I can answer for my wife on the whipped topping question: YES, the TASTE!) 🙂

I find it so fascinating that we treat our bodies this way. It’s not really that difficult to make mashed potatoes from real ingredients, nor obviously to make whipped cream (you just, whip… cream?) but our culture makes icons out of the fake stuff. Fascinating.

Well, aside from some family and holiday traditions that just can’t be broken, we will continue towards eating more and more real stuff. (Including things we grow ourselves!)

And I imagine our bodies will thank us for it.

by Greg

Special Moments

Some days just have those moments.

Today has had plenty. (And not all good ones, mind you.)

Jen had a super-frustrating day with (she said) every one of the kids, who just wouldn’t listen to her at all. They only wanted what they wanted when they wanted it. Eventually, she just couldn’t take it anymore and walked away from what she was trying to do, attempting to clear her head.

(It was during this time that Jen decided to make soup, which is something she wouldn’t usually do, and without a recipe, which is something she definitely wouldn’t do! The best part? It turned out great! Was a nice “moment” for Jen to enjoy a great (tasty) bit of success in an otherwise hard day.)

At dinner, we came to another moment where I erupted into a very intense monologue full of very direct, clear reminders of things we’ve taught the kids since they came into this world. Very direct. Pretty loud. And I meant every word of it.

That was a moment.

Then Mom went out for the evening to do some shopping, but mainly to “clear her head”. Much needed, and hopefully she is being refreshed. (I’ll find out when she gets home!)

As the clean-up team took care of the kitchen (and the other two took care of the other rooms) I bathed the youngest two. They really needed it.

(Note: I am quite sick. Nasty head cold, stuffy, bad cough, just keep saying, “My head feels weird…” So… that makes for a more interesting bath time. Oh, and Cam is just as sick as me!)

That was a moment. (But not too bad, actually.)

The girls got their baths, and I got everyone dressed for bed and hair brushed and all that must be done. Then Alex got his quick shower and we were ready for the evening activity.

Tonight, it was singing.

I got my guitar, and a box of chord charts for worship songs, and we just started playing through them. Some the kids knew, most they didn’t. But that didn’t stop them from singing. And dancing. And smiling. And really LOUD singing!

That was a moment. A different sort of moment. (A heart-smile kind of moment.)

I encouraged Ian to get his bass guitar out, and Alex converted a plastic pumpkin trick-or-treat bucket into a percussive instrument, and suddenly we had a band. And even though we didn’t know the song to begin with, by the end of one song Julia had a huge smile on her face… and tears on her cheeks.

“I’m crying!” says little Julia Gayle. “Why are you crying, Julia?” I asked gently. “It’s just because of the singing!” She almost couldn’t believe that music could do that to you, but at the same time, she knew deep within her that it did do that to her.

That was a moment.

Then came bedtime. We usually play with a Dad-animated stuffed friend at some point. Tonight it was the stuffed friend, Baboo. (Cam’s name for his little red-white-and-blue doggie.) We laughed, we had fun, we hugged (Cam wanted two hugs..) and we prayed together for our family.

That was another moment. (After which Cam wanted another hug…)

Days are full of moments. Some are good, some are “eh”, and some are pretty bad (or really bad). I feel like today kinda had all of those for us. Maybe most days do. Sometimes we get tricked into focusing on the bad moments though and we miss the little good ones that are still there, or can be there if and when we look for them.

They’re there. They were for us tonight.

Keep your heart and mind and eyes fixed on Jesus, and he’ll show you the moments. He’s in the moments, actually. All of them.

And if we know that—and live that—that is what makes them special.

by Greg

Misdiagnoses

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

Birthdays

08:06 - August 6thBirthdays are a pretty big deal here in the Campbell home. We really enjoy celebrating each other’s special days, usually for more than just that one day. But that one day is a circled day on the calendar and a number that carries more meaning than others.

We love the months of February, March, July, October, November and December. (We’re nicely spread out!) We love the numbers 5, 11, 13, 25, 28 and 30. (There are two 28s and two 30s! Even more fun!)

And we don’t have to wait till that special day once every 365.25 days…

I remember a long time ago, maybe even before we were married, Jen pointed to the dashboard clock in the car we were in and said, “Look, it’s my birthday.” I was confused at first, but then noticed that the clock said 10:28… October 28th! She told me that she often gets to celebrate her birthday two times a day whenever she can look at a clock at the right time. I smiled then, and I’m smiling now. I sure do love her! 🙂

So that has become a fun thing that we do here (at least Jen and I). We have plenty of chances to catch a birthday on the clocks! We’re coming up on Ian’s birthday as I type this (12:25)

It’s fun to have quirky family traditions!

Perhaps now you’ll notice a birthday next time you glance at your clock?

If so, happy birthday to you!

by Greg

Pure, (Truly) Awesome Creativity

We use the word “awesome” far too often in our culture. That sounds like something you’ve heard your grandpa say, or your great-grandpa. (Or his grandpa…) We assign it to anything and everything: sporting events or just a moment in said event, a movie, a meal, and pretty much anything that may happen in the course of a normal day.

But today, as I was reading Genesis chapter one, the first word that came to mind was “awesome”.

Jen and I are going to try to read through the Bible together in 90 days (using YouVersion.com‘s Bible in 90 Days plan). We just wanted to ingest Scripture again, not in small chunks, but in its entirety. Might be aggressive with all the other reading we enjoy doing (have you seen my “currently reading” list in the right sidebar of this website??), as well as the daily to-dos with work and family…

But it seems it will worth the extra effort. And there already has been a “wow” (“awesome”) moment.

(Not that there will be those every time, nor that such moments are the reason for such an undertaking. But… it was kinda neat, so I am sharing.)

Two things struck me about Genesis 1. First, in the New Living Translation, the phrase they used for “and it was so” was, “And that is what happened.” It made me chuckle out loud the third time I read it. So matter-of-fact: And that is what happened. Period. I love that the reality is, God spoke it, and that is what happened. Certainly something I’ve seen, noticed, considered before… but somehow I was struck this time with the simplicity of it.

Which led me to the second point: the account is incredibly simple, but the actual result is so complex what we have learned about the processes behind the operation of the universe in the subsequent millennia completely blows us away.

And I thought, God merely spoke a simple command, like, “Let there be lights in the sky” and “that is what happened.” The enormous complexity down to the quantum level and the vastness of the “lights in the sky”… all from a couple sentences.

The sheer power of this Creative Being created that vastness, that complexity, by only speaking a few words.

We would take years and years of planning and testing and building (and failing) until we had something pretty close to good. God spoke our entire universe—reality itself—into its intricately complex and ridiculously vast existence in six days.

We can argue about what a “day” is, or if God used “evolution” to create everything… or if he made things and let the process work itself to what we know in modern/recorded history. Certainly he placed adaptive capabilities into all that we know as life (and even other processes) on our planet and beyond.

But evident to me today was the unfathomable power of creativity that couldn’t help but produce greatness… seemingly without any effort whatsoever.

Awesome.

Amazing. Beyond words.

And that is what happened.

by Greg

Children Obey Your Parents

We had an interesting conversation with our teenager the other night.

Ian is thirteen. That means he’s officially a teenager. He’s been there—especially in his own mind—for quite a while now, even before the calendar said he was. That’s how he came into the world, actually. He’s usually ahead of the game.

And that’s his biggest problem. He’s pretty talented in a lot of ways, and he’s quite intelligent. That can very easily add up to a big trap. It can start to seem like you’ve got it all figured out.

I think at some point we all face that. And you might be saying, “Greg, of course he thinks he knows everything … he’s a teenager!” And, you are certainly right that what I’ve said so far could be said of most of us (maybe ALL of us?) in our teen years. It is the time when we are discovering ourselves. When we are invincible. When we are definitely smarter than our Mom & Dad.

But see, the thing is… this has been plaguing Ian since before he could speak.

There’s a war being waged in his spirit. I can’t know that, of course, or see it directly; but I see evidences of it. At once Ian is the most gentle, caring spirit, and also completely unbending and arrogant. He can be both.

From his earliest days, when we were training him the simple ‘yes’ and ‘no’ of what he could, and could not touch, where he could, and could not go, Ian has defied us. He has somehow had deep within his spirit a need for autonomy. More than a need, a conviction. He. Is. Right. It causes him such grief with his Mom, especially, but also with me. We’ve spent so many hours and hours talking about it, praying, learning from Jesus, and hopefully even showing by example.

But he persists in his right-ness.

The other night after a long day of head-butting with Mom, we had an emotional, confrontational “talk”. (It was mostly me doing the talking.) What came of that was a nugget of truth (at least, truth from Ian’s perspective) that helped me see the command from Scripture, “Children, obey/respect your parents…” slightly differently.

What I saw was that those words are not the end, but just the beginning.

God’s blessing comes after our will (as children) can quietly and trustingly submit to our parents. There are two things we learn from that. First, we are learning to submit ourselves to someone we trust whom we know loves us (like our heavenly Father), and second, we are learning the value of obeying Father, even when it doesn’t yet make sense to us—which we will have countless opportunities to practice through the rest of our adult lives.

Ian said, “So then I’m just supposed to lie?” He meant that he doesn’t agree with us, so, if he complies with a respectful-on-the-outside “Yes, Mom” and the subsequent carrying out of his orders, then that equals obeying? That is somehow a good thing?

In reply I said, “No, Ian. You are not supposed to lie. It’s not a lie. It’s a choice. You are saying, ‘God, even though I don’t agree… even though I think I’m right here… I’m going to trust you. I’m going to show my parents respect, and willingly do what they are saying is best, because I trust you, and your love for me.’ We hope that you can trust our love for you, too, and the wisdom we have gained by our quarter-century of additional experience. But the first choice you make, and the one that matters, is to choose to trust God.”

And I realized, that’s so true. I added, “Ian, I think the only thing God asks of you while you are a child, is to respect and obey your parents. As you get older, a LOT more will be expected of you, and you will be responsible for a lot more choices. But right now, it starts with this simple one. If you can choose to do that (respect your Mom and Dad, and do what they say, even when you think you know better) then you will start to see God’s blessing. When we trust him, he begins to unfold more truth in front of us. Not to mention, you’ll have peace—inner peace, peace with your Mom, with me, and your simple choice will begin to grow peace through our whole household.”

This is not “pick on Ian” time. Ian is (as I said earlier) incredibly talented in many things (sports, writing, reading, knowledge, understanding and caring about people, art, humor, and more). I love my son, Ian. He’s also—at times—incredibly hard to be around, because he does not see himself as an equal (or, in the case of his parents, a subordinate). His arrogance, unchecked, will eventually—once he is no longer under the protection of our supervision and guidance—be his ruin.

Pride, the worship of self, is the beast that is in all of us. Somehow, God put something in us that has a great desire to protect us, to defend us and all that represents us. It is the undoing of many. Perhaps it’s stronger in some than others (that’s what we seem to see in our firstborn son) but it is definitely something we all battle.

Ian and I had a subsequent discussion about heroes and villains. He’s writing a book with some seemingly ordinary folk who have super powers, who battle other seemingly ordinary folks who have super powers (or super technology). It’s a classic good versus evil, superhero story. He’s got some fun twists he’s working on, and he’s becoming a pretty good story teller, so it should be an entertaining read!

We thought about the one most common distinction between the “good guys” and the “bad guys” in any story, “super” or not. The answer was surprisingly consistent, and easy: bad guys are always in it for themselves, and good guys are always looking out for other people, even (especially) at their own peril. Those are heroes, the ones of us who sacrifice self for someone else, expecting nothing in return. (If reciprocity is expected, then the “selfless” act was really not selfless at all.)

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

I’ve quoted those few sentences from Philippians 2 here before. A few times, I believe. Don’t forget the sentence that comes next (perhaps the more familiar words):

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

There are so many commands in the Bible. Do this, don’t do this; go here, stay away from there; be this, don’t be this. It trips us up, big time. We get stuck on the “dos” and “don’ts”. The one thing that matters is to love God (and trust him) with all that you are, and equally important, love other people like you’ve been loved. There’s no “me” in that. The me is the “others” part for you. YOU are taken care of by me, and by everyone else who is “taking an interest in others, too”, and by our Father.

What more could you ask for?

So we’ll keep trying. We’ll keep loving. We’ll keep talking, praying, studying, and doing—leading by example. We’re going to fail. We do all the time. But hopefully part of our example is a humble acceptance of our own brokenness, our own quite obvious IMperfection.

Do what’s right… love mercy… walk humbly with [our] God.

And in the end? Well, we don’t get to know the end. We only get to live the now. We hope that as we do what God is asking us, that he’ll bless us by giving us the joy of seeing HIS Life lived brilliantly in and through our son (all our sons, and our daughters). They will each get to choose to trust him along the way. It might be “easier” for some of them than it seems to be for Ian in his short thirteen years so far. But I have a hunch that each of them will face their own obstacles, just as great, just as impassible …

But nothing is impassible with God. (Or, something like that.)

And it is HE whom we trust. From the very first, when we say, “Yes, Mom,” and “Yes, Dad”. And through the rest of life, with the first choice to trust—when much (or all?) seems to say otherwise—we take the first step and choose to trust him.

Then we begin to know the Life he has for us, the Life he is.

It all starts with a simple choice.

by Greg

Always Be Thankful

“And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful.“

I have recently been reminded of the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I read the first half or so, and then it got buried under many other reads over the past months, nearing a year.

Jen loves her blog, and last year (maybe even more than a year?) purchased Ann’s book and connected deeply with the themes developed within its pages. She quoted much of the book to me in small snippets as she read it. Then she suggested I read it—or, maybe I even just wanted to on my own, both on her somewhat “unspoken” recommendation and because since Jen so identified with it, I knew I’d find some more of my wife’s heart in those pages.

And I did. And the book was saying what we needed to hear—probably what we all always need to hear.

Be thankful. Always.

The scripture quoted above is from Colossians 3:15. Definitely one of the books of the Bible that most resonates with me. I quote often from it. I have several songs that are based on truths Paul shared in his letter to the Colossian Christians. So much great truth found in those few pages.

These couple of verses have been meaningful recently as we have really needed peace. And he has given it. Deep peace. But it’s meaningful beyond the more difficult times of life, even in the ordinary. Especially for a large family with many youngsters like ours. “You are called to live in peace.” Yes, children… you are. And sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. But the source of peace—inner and outer—is obvious from the first sentence. It’s Jesus. When his peace rules in our hearts, then it overflows to the people in our family—whether by blood or by spiritual family connection.

But one of the shortest sentences from the whole letter might be most meaningful to our lives.

And always be thankful.

Sounds like an afterthought. “Oh yeah… don’t forget…” But it’s somehow the foundation of our joy, our happiness, our Life. So much junk in life: our own, our family members’, junk from other people around us, and just the junk that is beyond anyone’s control. But somehow—when we can transcend the hurt, often by a simple trust in the person most worthy of trust—we can even be grateful for the junk.

Jen read a story for us recently from another book she just finished (The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom) which was also about “always be[ing] thankful”. In summary, while detained by German soldiers in a flea-infested and otherwise nearly uninhabitable room, Corrie’s sister discovered the key to the Life God wanted for them was to be thankful—for everything. That meant even the fleas. Corrie reluctantly agreed to be thankful for all things, even the ones that seemed to have absolutely no value at all.

Much later, looking back on everything, they realized (or learned?) that the guards had left them almost entirely to themselves because of the fleas! They were able to pray, have and read from their Bible, and have many freedoms they might not have otherwise had… because of the fleas. And they lived life a bit more fully because they were thankful for something that seemed only awful, even without knowing how it could be used for good.

Now several days later, at bedtime, after a day with some hard things in it, I decided to ask the girls to share some things they liked about the day, and some things that were hard or sad from the day. They came up with both fairly easily, with only slightly more thought put into choosing the one thing they found most difficult from the day just lived. Once we all had shared our favorite and maybe least favorite moments from the day I said, “OK, now let’s tell God how we are thankful for those things.”

I started out with the good, and then repeated back the things that each of us had highlighted as our difficult or bad thing from the day. When I got to Julia’s she was surprised that I strung together “thank you” and her bad part of the day. I smiled at her and asked if she remembered the flea story that Mom told earlier. A light of recognition flashed in her eyes and she said, “Oh yeah! Like the fleas! They were bad, but then they kept the soldiers away so they could pray!”

Yes! Like the fleas!

And so we continued, thankful even for the harder parts of the day. And sleep came quickly, and peacefully.

They are not magic words, that somehow make us cheery and unnaturally full of joy despite current circumstances. But it is a somewhat magic truth. When we can implement them, like the Ten Booms, we can know peace. And even joy.

And thankfulness.

Ann Voskamp uses the refrain Eucharisteo in her book. The Greek “give thanks”. The words, the idea–but even more, the action—have power. A power to give us life, from the One who is Life.

It comes from our perspective. Thankfulness gets the focus off of us, and onto him. He is the source of our Life, and hope, and every good thing. (Even when we can’t yet see goodness.)

That’s not to say there isn’t still junk. Or that some junk is just plain bad.

But always be thankful. That’s the succinct afterthought from Paul’s email to new believers that can still bring us much more of the life Jesus wants for us to live. One where we see goodness in the craziest places. Even where it doesn’t seem good, or isn’t good. We have hope, and we trust his goodness.

And we can always be thankful.

by Greg

Do I Have A Dream?

The Campbell Family

This week the well-known refrain, “I have a dream!” echoed from the lips of a man who changed the world. We are all quite familiar with the speech. Powerful words, and stirring delivery by a great orator. But the heart of what Martin Luther King declared on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial one late summer’s day nearly fifty years ago was that he had a dream.

Dreams are something that sits at the core of us and is our every motivation, the very fiber of us. His dream was to see all men treated equally. Every person judged by the content of their character, not the color of their skin in contrast to much of the America he lived his life in.

Dreams somehow also sit at an unattainable distance from us. Like two powerful magnets, the dream that is distant pulls on the dream at our core, beckoning us to realize that which we were made to be. Our dream. It’s as though it is at once unattainable, and unavoidable.

Lately—even before the annual rememberance of Dr. King and his famous speeches—I’ve been thinking about my dream. Mainly I’ve been asking myself, “What is my dream?”

And I really don’t know.

I’ve been through a rough patch the past maybe eighteen months, or so. Jen & I both. Maybe it’s even two years, now, I don’t know. But one thing after another… life just taking its toll on us, as it seems to be so good at doing.

Is that why I have lost focus on my “dream”? Or did I just never have one?

When I was a very young kid, I wanted to be a weatherman. Yes, really! I would be sure to get in front of a TV and catch the full weather portion of the daily news broadcast. (As soon as it was over and the sports segment was up I made sure to turn it off as quickly as possible! Hated sports!) 🙂 But, as many early childhood dreams, that really amounted to nothing. I am still interested in science and specifically anything to do with the sky … but that’s about the extent of me living that dream.

As I got older, I imagined myself to be a writer. So much so that when I was pressed to decide what I would do with my life at the ripe old age of sixteen, I chose “Journalism”. Seemed to make sense. A career as a writer! Who could ask for more?

Except, I don’t think writing is my “dream”.

A year at the Journalism school yielded little more than a still-strong allegiance to the Green and White. (I only took one journalism course, and I really don’t remember a thing about it.) I soon transitioned to a local university before deciding to pursue another “dream” and finish my undergraduate work at Cincinnati Bible College.

As I got to be an older teenager, I did grow to love sports. I really could throw the football better than most people I knew. It came pretty easy, but also from lots of “reps”, as they call it in the world of football. I was always throwing a football, even with no one to throw it to! Maybe playing football was my dream?

So while at MSU, I decided to try to walk on with the varsity football team. That was promptly put down, but my “dream” was not.

At the University at Buffalo, I joined the spring football team practice and workouts. Sadly, I never got to play any football. My class schedule conflicted with football practice, so all I got to do was add some muscle to my frame in the weight room. I did also get to meet Joe Reich, brother of the quite famous Buffalo Bills backup QB, Frank Reich, of the Greatest Comeback lore. Joe was the team’s coach in charge of the spring football practices.

Coach Reich was also a believer. We talked about football, about his brother, and also about our common faith. I told him how I’d always wanted to play football (though, “always” was definitely a stretch, I’d say) and, while talking about that dream, we also talked about what I was slowly realizing was maybe my “real” dream: full-time ministry.

I’d been wrestling with that for much of my second year of college. It seemed like God was impressing upon me that there was nothing else that mattered to me than helping people live in the everyday reality of life with a loving Father. I wanted to help people know the same Jesus I had come to know. He was so much more than I’d ever imagined him to be, and I knew others would want to know that, too!

And so I decided to pursue my dream. I left football, and journalism (and, hardest of all, meteorology…) and began taking classes toward a degree from a(n undergrad) seminary.

The funniest part about that dream is that I knew that it wasn’t what I was made to do before I even started it! I nearly did the “kicking and screaming” routine on the way to following this leading! I told God, “I do NOT want to be a preacher!!” And I didn’t. Still don’t. And, I never was (unless filling that role once or twice counts against you?) 🙂

And yet, as I pursued that dream, it felt right. Like I was where I was meant to be. I didn’t completely fit in with the rest of the folks I was going to school with there. I even ended up finding an obscure way to live out my full-time ministry aspirations: Campus Ministry. After doing an internship at Miami University during my senior year, one thing led to another, and I was hired by a church in New York to begin campus outreaches to local universities.

I was living my dream! Mostly… but no? Maybe I wasn’t.

I think I have forgotten to mention here that through the football dream, during the journalism dream (but well after the Weatherman dream) … the lovely Jen Walker was a big part of my dream. 🙂 In a story much too long to share here, God helped me see that I loved her, and I knew I could love her forever as my wife. We remained good friends, kept in touch, and eventually—remember, this is the very short version—we were married! I am still currently living that dream!

(And adding these six amazing kids to the dream has definitely made that my favorite, most meaningful “dream” to date!)

Now, in the interest of keeping it brief… Oh, wait. I think I missed “brief”…

God has continued to seem to move me from one dream to another throughout my life. Maybe you are like that, too? Or maybe you’re more like MLK. He knew what he was made to do, and he did it. He made the bold choices that changed the world. (He apparently made some other poor choices, too. And his bold/good choices got him killed. So it’s not all rosy… but he still had more courage to see his dream come to fruition than most of us do.)

From campus ministry, the seeds of sharing the Life of God through music that had been planted years earlier began to sprout and grow, and before we knew it, we were actually traveling the country singing my songs in every place you can imagine. We were full-time, independent musicians! And it sure seemed that God was arranging so many of the details. It was a fun ride, to be sure. We were living the dream!

I think?

Let’s recap. My dreams so far have been:

  • Weatherman
  • Journalist/Writer
  • Full-time ministry
  • Campus ministry
  • Musician
  • Jen… and our kids

And now, for the past eight years or so, I’ve been designing/building/developing websites for people and businesses. That’s been a great blessing to us. My love for and understanding of technology has certainly lent itself to this “dream”, though to be honest, this has always felt like more of a job than a dream.

But related to the website building, I managed to create a few podcasts. The Buffalo Bills Review allowed me to live out the football “dream” while also writing, and using technology. That was a pretty good “dream”, but it never earned enough money to justify the time I was putting into it.

AND, I have yet to share this story more publicly, but just about a year ago we were really, really close to opening a restaurant! Now that is pretty close to a dream right there. Maybe the closest. I love making food for people, I love being with people… both of those and more fit right in with the plans we had for the restaurant.

That is currently not my wife’s dream, though, and God saw fit to swiftly and decisively close all of the doors we though he had opened toward the restaurant endeavor. It was sad, a bit shocking, but in retrospect, definitely wise and needed for the year that was to come. (I love when we can see Father’s wisdom in the recent past.)

All of this to say, I sit here in early 2012, nearing four decades of existence on this planet, and I’m really not sure what my “Dream” is. I don’t think I’m having a mid-life crisis. I don’t feel like it’s a “crisis”. I just really can’t say what it is that is at the core of me. That distant, unattainable goal that is irresistably drawing me to itself.

Is that normal? Is it normal to wonder that?

I’d guess that it is. You might not know what your “dream” is, either.

But I do know a few very important things.

One, Jen and our kids are definitely one of my dreams. I want to spend my days pouring myself into them.

I was not wrong when I first realized that all I wanted to do in life was help people know Jesus the way I had come to know him. That’s looked different all through my life, but that is still definitely at the core of who I am.

I do still get to write (as you can see here… in this very long post!) and I do play football with my kids, and I do still make music (usually with my kids) and I certainly get to make food for people (most often my kids…)

Hmm. Could it be that simple? Have I found my dream?

That’s where I might be defining “dream” differently than I need to.

Each day I get to do all of those things for and with my family. I even get to “help people live in the everyday reality of life with a loving Father”. It just happens that the “people” are most often my wife and kids. 🙂

Steven Curtis Chapman wrote a song for his wife, Mary Beth, called One Little Heartbeat at a Time. The chorus says:

You, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time
Making history with every touch and every smile
Oh, you, you may not see it now
But I believe that time will tell
How you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time

I may not be leading huge marches, or speaking to hundreds of thousands of people. I may never have a holiday in my honor. (You never know, though, I suppose…)

But I do love my kids. So much. And I am so glad that I get to spend my life with Jen, who is still my favorite person in the world.

That really is my dream. I don’t know that I have a “dream” job, or a life-cause as most might see it. But I do have a dream. I have a dream that one day my kids will live full lives of being loved by their true Father, and loving and serving everyone he places around them. I have a dream that one day my kids will be known by the content of their character, not by anything position they hold or possessions they own. I have a dream that one day I will get to see their kids—my grandkids—and the joy that God has given us in being the parents of these six new Image Bearers will multiple many fold.

I want to love and be loved. Loved by my Father, and love all who are around me. I want to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God. Wherever and how that plays out every day is very secondary.

So I guess I do have a dream. And—lucky me—I’m living it!

by Greg

Both Sides of the Story

I’ve mentioned here many times that I am learning how crucial it is to see life from multiple angles. Getting not only information from people with opposing viewpoints, but really trying to step into their shoes; see from their perspective. It’s just so crucial to communication, to cooperation, interaction… to society in general.

And so often, we—being human, flawed, self-absorbed—we aren’t even aware that there are other legitimate perspectives!

Our son Ian has been very interested in the World War II time period of history. He’s been learning every bit he can not just about the battles, but the people—the leaders in particular—involved in the story. Winston Churchill and FDR, as well as Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin. He’s previously read about Woodrow Wilson and WWI… definitely has a serious passion for history and biographies!

So much so that Mom (Jen) has even recently taken up a book about Roosevelt titled, “FDR’s Splendid Deception”, about the fact that President Roosevelt was never seen public in his wheelchair, so as to not appear weak. From all accounts, it’s a fascinating story.

Somehow all of this brought to mind a movie I had seen some time back. I posted a mini-review on that movie, Letters from Iwo Jima, and it’s counterpart, Flags of our Fathers, here on this site in 2007. Please go ahead and click the link and read that story. (That’s actually the main reason for this post: that you’d re-read that older post!)

The fascinating thing was, Flags was released first, and then Iwo Jima. They depicted the exact same story from history, but from opposite sides of the battle.

How much better off we’d be if we could do that with nearly every conflict or disagreement!

For a long time now, Jen and I and I have been reading through a modern translation of the Federalist Papers called The Original Argument. In Federalist #1, Alexander Hamilton addresses this subject (in an atmosphere where there were passionate arguments for and against the proposed Constitution):

Since the motives behind each of the opinions are so strong, it is certain that wise and good people will be found on both sides of the issues. This fact should remind us all to remain modest in our opinion—no matter how right we think we are.

I think that is still my favorite quote from all the papers we’ve examined so far. And again, how different would our political climate be today if that were the way everyone approached every issue, whether controversial or relatively benign?

Forget politics. What if we all treated each other that way? What if we presumed that we were not smarter, better, right-er than everyone else around us.

“Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.”

That’s where it starts. You can’t really even care about the perpective of your adversary or opponent—or anyone—if you know you are in some way (or all ways) superior.

I’d really encourage you to read that post about Letters from Iwo Jima, and as I recommended now almost five years ago, if you haven’t seen it… do.

The more we can see things from other view points, other perspectives, the more we can live at peace with others around us. (Which is what Paul says we need to do in the verse just before what I quoted above.)

So I encourage you to take a walk in someone else’s shoes today. You might be surprised what you see.

Scripture quote is Philippians 2:3-4, from the New Living Translation