Family

Happy Birthday, Josiah!

Derek Webster — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 05:30:19 -0800

Today my second son, Josiah, turns 17 years old. Let me tell you a little about him:

Josiah is a very smart, witty, and charismatic man. He spent a long time fighting the best in himself, but about two years ago turned a major corner. When he was young, I used to joke that given his personality he would either be President of the United States or the greatest criminal mastermind the world has ever known.

I was wrong.

I now think Josiah has the potential to launch a movement that can really change the status quo.

He has a deep love of music, and I think resonates with lyrics in a very deep way. On his wall in his bedroom is a painted tree, and for leaves, Josiah posts meaningful lyrics from songs he loves. He's not a "reader" like the rest of us. I think he's a lot more like his Oma than he realizes. He can be stubborn (like me) or playful (like his mom). And he's got two brothers who love him to pieces.

It's strange for me to think that the little chunk I held in my arms 17 years ago is a young man. At the time, I remember having this "a-ha!" moment as I realized that all the love I thought I had in me suddenly expanded with the addition of Josiah. Prior to that, the love I felt for my family was so intense, I just didn't think there would be room for more. Then Josiah was born and I realized my intense love had exponentially expanded - the flames grew brighter and hotter with his coming into our family.

I've only got 18 months left with him under my supervision. After that, it's all guidance and friendship. But I'm blessed to say that I really enjoy hanging around my sons. I like them as people - not just because they are my sons. And not everyone can say that. I genuinely enjoy hanging around Josiah. He enriches my worldview and pushes me to be a better man.

I can't wait to see what the next 17 years will bring. I'm incredibly proud and am excited to watch his character development trajectory continue to soar.

Happy Birthday, son! Your dad loves you.

For Parents of College Freshman, From a Former RD

Christopher Faris — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 23:53:23 -0700

Let’s get it out there – I am not the most “in shape” of individuals to ever hit the streets. Sad thing is, I used to be. When working at Pepperdine University as a Resident Director, I started to run…and run I did. What started off as 1 mile quickly turned into 4 and 5 mile jogs that slowly began to melt off the pounds. But it didn’t start that way. The first mile is the hardest.

In many ways, going to college is like running lap 1 of a 4 lap mile after having not ran in years. Each lap represents the general development of the college student. In lap 1 (Freshman), runners tend to “sprint” around the track, feeling like the run is easy. In lap 2 (Sophmore), they realize that sprinting isn’t an effective way to maintain pace, and they begin to “struggle.” Lap 3 (Junior) is about “sustaining” from laps 1 and 2 with a focus on the end of the race. Lap 4 (Senior) is about “succeeding” or as my Father calls it – finishing wel.

Let’s talk about lap 1 – the sprint lap. This is what your full time freshman college year student is going to do. And they should. Unusual things are going to start to occur for them, especially if they are the oldest. They won’t have to report back to you about what they did the night before, or set up a time to be home. They won’t have to show you their homework to get your permission to go out. They don’t need you like they used to. And that can hurt for parents, but it feels mostly awesome for the newly minted adult.

The lap 1 “sprint” is a bit chaotic because the new phase of life called “adulthood” has kicked in. They are becoming independent. That’s good (unless you want them living in your basement for the next 25 years). Their moral development will continue in independent settings when doing the right thing is not dependent on your discipline, so much as it is in their natural consequences. If they are late for an International Programs meeting and get locked out, they feel the foolishness of that decision and have to deal with it. If Mom or Dad say “go to the meeting or else,” they’ve learned they don’t want to tick off Mom and Dad. That doesn’t help your son or daughter grow and develop.

And that is the goal of lap/year 1 – encourage them to try things. They will succeed in some and fail in others. But above all they need to try them out. They need to develop their passions. Let them learn what their limits are, and find new pleasures as they see how their strengths pay off.

As a parent, your job this year is to begin and continue to let go. Here are 3 ways you can do that:

1) Give them water when they ask, not when you perceive they are thirsty

You may want to get out and run on the track with your son or daughter splashing water on their face every few steps…but you can’t. While you may want to keep passing the metaphorical water cup of parental wisdom whenever you see it fit, it doesn’t help. Let them ask you for it. The best advice given is the advice that is asked for.

So, if they are talking to you about their day, listen. If they tell you about a difficult decision, don’t rush in and give them advice. Let them ask you for it. Then, be careful about how much you dispense. Let them process the options and walk along side them as they carry that out. They likely stopped drinking the parental Gatorade a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean you can’t watch them run and cheer them on

2) Stop getting the runners status…just let them run

As an RD and therapist on a college campus, I ran into many college students who were still attached at the umbilical cord of Mom’s life well past move in day. The evidence was in the literal 5-10 phone calls and multiple texts in between per day.

That’s too much.

That’s no longer about your son or daughter, that’s about you. If you have issues about the college life you never led, or the marriage that is starting to hurt now that your son or daughter has moved out – go see a therapist. And no, your adult son or daughter don’t count as clinician’s, even if you’ve placed them in that role many times before.

They need to focus on school, socializing, and developing the first independent skills that come with living under a different roof. They need to be in contact with you in this very life changing, special time. But they also need to let go. Your constant contact with them does more harm than good.

3) Equip the coaches

You know how at your kid’s baseball, soccer, or basketball games there were always the parent’s who swore they could coach better than the coach? And you know how that particular parent would scream and yell from the bleachers? And do you remember how annoying that was? Yeah, that annoyance still applies in college.

Don’t undercut your kid’s professors. Don’t chew out the residence life staff because they are making your adult son or daughter confront their roommate instead of letting them move out over personal differences (hint – those skills are quite helpful in being a human being who lives with others).

Instead, join with the staff. Call the staff and ask how you can support them at this point in the year. If your son or daughter are stuck in their room playing Warcraft or XBOX, ask the RA or RD about how you can help them socialize rather than complaining that your son or daughter do nothing. You have no idea how much more helpful this is in the long and short run.

Lap 1 is going to leave your son or daughter winded – and it will leave you that way too. But what is the end goal here? What is being developed? What is all this time, money and distance supposed to produce? If you are answering those questions for yourself, the answer is simply that you are watching your adult son or daughter begin to be independent. And that’s beautiful. They are taking what you have poured into them and they are applying it. They are testing it. Your child is now using the strategies you used to run your race as you have run it so far.

May you each run and finish well.

Does Your Marriage Matter?

Adam Stadtmiller — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 17:05:43 -0700

Almost twenty-three years ago, my friend Torry pulled me out of a Tijuana gutter. It would be the last gutter I would lay in. The next day was the first in a continuing two-decade journey into my sobriety. I spent that final night of intoxication sleeping at Torry’s parents. It was a place I had been inebriated many times before.

Even as a self-focused, addicted teen, I knew something was different about Dick and Connie’s place. Whenever there, my life seemed to find more ballast. There was just something about the spirit of their home. There was something special about them together.

More then anything, when I was there, I knew I was accepted. Conversations were never started with an ulterior motive. They never preached at me. Instead, they just invited me into their home.

Don’t get me wrong. It was obvious they loved Jesus. Dick was an oak of a man, firmly rooted in the word of God; Connie always busy doing some Bible Study Fellowship lesson while worship music resounded from the kitchen like muzak at TJ Maxx.

Looking back, I can see that their marriage, their absolute way of being together, acted as a megaphone to me of what a marriage could look like in a culture short on commitment and love. I was being discipled without knowing it. It was a marriage that mattered.

I remember Dick once saying that he disliked the passage about not being married once getting to heaven—unable to imagine an eternity away from Connie’s side. They were the bible’s epitome of one flesh.

Last week I got a text telling me that Connie had lost her battle with cancer. The first thing I did was think, “What is Dick going to do?” Then I thought about my own wife, knowing that this day would eventually come to our shores as well.

What I realized is that like Dick and Connie, Karie and my marriage has an opportunity. We have an opportunity to present to our girls, their friends and this world, what a marriage that matters looks like—a marriage that reaches beyond its own happiness. Dick and Connie had that kind of marriage and because of it, mine is eternally grateful.

Dodgeball and Common Grace: A shot at long devotion

Adam Stadtmiller — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 14:59:08 -0700

I got a call from Lily’s kindergarten teacher asking if I would come in and volunteer at lunchtime as a playground dad. Someone else could not make it and they needed a replacement. It was early September and the year had just begun. I agreed and showed up the following Friday for duty.

Somehow, that one afternoon has turned into four years of Friday lunches, countless dodge ball games and amazing opportunities to let kids know they matter.

More then anything, it has been a chance to be available—available to my daughter, available to her friends. I never show up with an agenda and I don’t really consider it ministry. It is just life. It is my daughter’s life, and I get tobe a part of it in a way that matters to her.

About halfway through my first year of doing this, I prayed a prayer that meant as much to me as any prayer I have ever prayed, “God, I pray that you would allow me to see these kids graduate high school.” I was asking God if I could be a weekly campus presence until Lily’s final week of her senior year in 2020. It was a big prayer with big consequences. It was a commitment to stay put and not seek the next big opportunity.

At this point, I don’t know what it would take for me to break that commitment. Cancer maybe? It would most definitely not be for a better paying job or career advancement. I just don’t really care about all that. The cost is too high, those fourth graders too precious. I know them now, their struggles, their joys, their hopes.

There have been no miracles yet that I know of. No one has given his or her life to Christ as a result of me being there. Rather, it is just common grace in ordinary events and an opportunity at long devotion in a single direction. May God bless you in yours!

For more on Parental Discipleship check out : http://www.giveyourkidsthekeys.com/

Finding Home Sweet Home

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 14:07:53 -0700

This past weekend, I hosted an open mic/art show at the homestead. It was an evening the had me enthralled and I didn't want it to end. A poet, a sculptor, a singer and a spoken word performer, amongst a few more writers and creative geniuses, graced us with their offerings. It was such a sacred time that ushered summer in with profound, but gentle truth. I am almost at the end of making a big transition that I announced last week. Thank you to everyone for your support and encouragement in this season. It has meant so much to me and my husband.

In reflecting about the first days of summer that are upon us all, I couldn't help but think about this past season and the direction of my life. I wrote this for the Open Mic with the prompt I gave the other participants: We will meet the weekend before Summer Solstice to celebrate the changing of seasons. Using that prompt, please create something, or pick something you already have with a similar theme to share.

I want to share it with those of you who couldn't be there before I head out of town for my annual no-technology week next week. I will post some pics of the yard later this week, but here is the piece - Finding Home Sweet Home

After I was born, my parents brought me home. Home was a typical middle class suburban house in a Western Washington neighborhood.

The home sat nestled in a few pine trees with other houses not too close, but not too far away either. I grew up playing in the street with other kids, and painting on an easel my mom set up for me in her art studio.

Although I was young, I remember feeling safe at the fact that my room was sandwiched between my two older brothers' and my parents' rooms.

Home changed though as my father's appetite for a house with a view grew. He moved us to his custom dream home on a cliff with a driveway a tenth of a mile long. Our neighbors were senior citizens destined to live out their lives in peace and tranquility.

Our home became anything but that and the word home began to scare me. I didn't face that fear though. Rather, as a tween, I tried to rise above it - become more - but more of what?

Seasons marched on. After the divorce, we moved miles away from anything familiar with my mom, to another house on a cliff. Our family teetered close to the proverbial edge as we tried to regain footing.

We were not supposed to get comfortable in the mustard colored kitchen and rooms with burnt orange carpet. The wood paneling belonged in someone else's home - from ages ago - not mine.

I didn't long for new, shiny, or big - I wanted to feel safe; to ease my worry; to be able to meet other people and play. Eventually we moved again, right next door to wait for the season when the mustard and orange would fade away, but they stayed as long as I did and the promised home was built long after I moved out.

For some students in college, going home meant familiarity, comfort and warmth. For me those first years back were a jumble of broken dreams, dysfunction and some money and humor to hide the pain.

I began to realize that maybe I never understood what home was. False senses of security and conditional love on a foundation of perfection and approval introduced seasons of burnout and sickness.

Home was nowhere to be found. And definitely not sweet.

The deconstruction took many moons, many cycles, and the tides never seemed to stop ebbing and flowing.

I was whittled down to a cornerstone - a landing place where I finally started reconstruction - in a valley far from any cliffs. There were seasons of abundance and drought. But the house being built was different - with awareness and intentionality - knowing privilege and gaining appreciation of diversity of land, food, and people.

Home is something I'm increasingly finding has to do more with my soul than the places it inhabits. But when that soul manifests itself, when I tune into the Center - my truth - the place takes on a different meaning too.

This past winter was a deep hibernation. One that was haunted with wishes of others and good intentions gone awry. I knew spring would come, I just didn't know what would bloom. This time of processing was different though. The roots were there waiting with patience. The hours, days and years of trying to figure out home had finally found one in me. It called out and I answered knowing the risk of going deeper into this home - adding on and tending the soil instead of using an easy weed killer.

Coming home is what I am beckoned to do. To do it in a radical way. To go back to my grandmother's roots, but also continue to nourish my own. To show-up for my life - to be present for my husband, my neighbors, and my work. The call is not to bake and be barefoot, but dig new life into a beat-up house and a weary soul. To find sparks of meaning with each transition, each season; with each student, directee, and friend I come in contact with. To rediscover the simple truth that exists just below the surface of the earth and our skin -- that we are all beloved. That is what coming home truly is, and I'm glad I've found my home sweet home in this season.

Pictures are from the Open Mic Night - Click here to see more great photos!

(First two pics - Kristin Ritzau; Last pic - Megan Lundgren)

Ten ways to make sure you only receive polite, obligatory gestures on Father's Day

Caroline Ferdinandsen — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 22:06:58 -0700

Show up only for milestones, but never for the mundane.
Disregard your health.
Lecture your child on the benefits of a clean bedroom.
Drop off your children at church on Sunday and pick them up when they're done.
Take your kids to the movies or give them money when they earn good grades; withhold favors when they don’t.
Buy a big screen TV and then say you can’t afford piano lessons.
Ask your son to find the Bible on Christmas Eve.
Flirt with waitresses.
Avoid touching your children whenever possible.
Mistreat their mother.

Parental Discipleship

Adam Stadtmiller — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 11:06:26 -0700

Most parents have no clue how to disciple their kids. I’m not saying it is their fault; they are as much victims of the crisis of discipleship in the church today as their children.

Here is a good way to figure out if you are measuring up in discipling your son or daughter. Imagine that your child is not your own. Rather, Jesus has introduced them to you with a commission of discipleship. Until he or she turns 18, you will be given 3-5 hours per week to show them the way of the Savior. The sky is the limit, but you only get these 3-5 hours to create a sustainable faith in this kid—to make sure he or she knows Christ in the depths of their soul.

What would you do? How would you do it? Would it be different then what you are doing now?

When we think of a discipler we often conjure up a much different picture than that of a parent. Parents can easily turn to provision and protection and miss the parallel call of discipleship. You can be a fantastic parent and fail as a discipler; non-believers do this all of the time.

When I think of disciples and those they follow, I tend to see dirt roads and hear conversations. God is being talked about and experienced along the way—in the “net cleaning” moments of life (Luke 5).

Disciplers tend to let their followers occasionally fail. They are friends who laugh and cry together. They share life in a way that is impossible to keep up a façade of perfection. Life is lived too closely for this.

I am not saying that a discipler is a better model then a parent. Since God chose the “Father” metaphor as a primary analogy for our understanding of Him, we must acknowledge the importance of parental leadership and guidance. We must continue to excel in the role of Godly parenting.

My contention is that as parents we have forgotten that raising children to follow Jesus requires us to be more then just great parents. We are also called to be discipler and friend. Now go and make disciples! (Matthew 28:19)

For more on parental discipleship check out www.giveyourkidsthekeys.com

Raising Kingdom Bringing Kids

Adam Stadtmiller — Tue, 31 May 2011 16:38:32 -0700

Give Your Kids the Keys

Adam Stadtmiller — Tue, 31 May 2011 13:19:17 -0700

“Oh no, oh no!” were the words I heard, along with a scream, as I woke up out of a dead sleep. I opened my eyes to find us heading toward a massive semi-trailer truck at 65 mph. It was the last day of our yearly snowboard pilgrimage to Mammoth Mountain, in California. My wife, Karie, was driving, and we were headed home. We were on HWY 395, about 20 minutes outside of Bishop, and just a few miles from the spot where you can often see herds of elk.

Startled by my wife’s scream, I awoke as my heart raced from a virtual 0 to 60. In front of us loomed a Mack truck. There was nothing I could do. In that moment, Karie had to make a decision that our family’s lives depended on. She had two options. She could slam on the brakes and hope to weave back in behind the truck that was to our right, praying that he would not also brake; or she could hit the gas...

Today’s parenting is a lot like driving. Your family is on this amazing journey. Navigating the road of parenting is not for the faint of heart. Each bend and turn balances beauty and danger. There are driving snows, steep grades and icy roads. Mothers and fathers are called to navigate this highway called life. It is their job to get their kids safely from point A to point B, eventually giving them the keys to drive life’s journey on their own.

That day on 395, Karie decided to use the gas pedal. With our hearts in our throats, our daughters Lily, Lucy and I held on as Karie accelerated and swerved back into our lane, narrowly avoiding the bumper of the steel machine heading toward us.

In the moments right after this near tragedy, I had a thought. With my hands still tingling from a rush of blood, awareness came to my head. It was one of those God understandings where God takes a happening and teaches a truth. This is a paraphrase of what God spoke to my heart in those moments: Sometimes the best defensive driving tool is the gas pedal. I want you to be gas-pedal parents, and your children gas-pedal kids. I want you to focus on engagement more than disengagement.

In Give Your Kids The Keys I write about the fear-based, brake-pedal parenting culture that has invaded the church. Rather then seeing our kid’s futures full of God’s presence and provision, many parents see only potential dangers. These dangers include the Internet, sex, drugs, public school Harry Potter and Twilight’s vampires. Many a Christian parents answer to these fears has been to rapture their children from the culture, doing their best to make sure their kids never have to process or deal with anything that challenges their faith.

One of the keys to creating a sustainable faith in children is through the testing of their faith. When you remove testing, you remove sustainability (See James 1:2-4) While controversial; we believe the public school system offers a better environment for creating sustainable world changing believers then many of the alternative schooling forms that have come into vogue in many Christian parenting circles.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:2-4)

It’s no secret that 60-80%[1] of all believing children are abandoning the faith at the magic age of 18. The question is why? While I spent a whole book seeking an answer to that question, I will offer a couple of thoughts here. Firstly, we have removed challenge from the equation. The hope is that if we eliminate any faith-testing environments and fill our kids up with knowledge of right and wrong, our kids will be able to sustain a thriving faith once they leave home. History is proving this untrue. You don’t prepare for war in padded cells.

Secondly, we have not offered our kids much more then rote knowledge of Jesus. We have told them that Jesus died on the cross and rose again and then challenged them no further then going out, sharing their toys and being good boys and girls. Sure, our kids know all the Bible’s stories, but have they ever prayed for the sick, looked into the orphans eyes or been challenged with a vision larger then themselves. Rather then exposing our children to a radical action filled life in Christ, we have settled for raising sober virgins who get into good colleges. As long as your kids meet those criteria you can be guaranteed of much congratulations from your parenting peers. But will your kids really know Jesus?

Gas-pedal parents are willing to look their fears in the face and say, “To hell with you.” With faith in the sustaining power of the Savior, these parents are committed to immersing their kids into a full life in Christ. They are willing to let their kids be in a culture while discipling them to live above it. They believe the real Jesus is more attractive then anything this world can offer.

[1] “Most Twenty-somethings Put Christianity on the Shelf Following Spiritually Active Teen Years,” the Barna Group, September 11, 2006. http://www.barna.org/teens-next- gen-articles/147-most-twentysomethings-put-christianity-on-the-shelf-following-spiritually-active-teen-years.

I Parent Correctly and You Don't

Caroline Ferdinandsen — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 14:26:08 -0800

Amy Chua and the “Tiger Mom” buzz is starting to wane, but the issues it raises are still vital. If you haven’t heard about it, here’s my oversimplified version:

1. Chinese mother writes hyperbolic memoir about old-school Asian parenting, complete with music torture anecdotes and educational agony.
2. The book’s most controversial moments become blogged and Twitterfied into a thousand opinions.
3. American parents freak, self-righteously.
4. American parents pause to reflect, feel secret guilt.
5. American parents get over it, go back to permissive parenting.

Chua’s book is certainly stirring up my students’ discussions about their own home paradigm. I teach AP students in a culturally diverse high school, where Parmvir and Li-Lin (who are forbidden to quit cello or attend school dances) sit beside Jessica and Brandon (who hang out at parties on weekends, play video games, and make due with a casual GPA of 3.2). Chua’s memoir brings to the surface what my Asian students have known for years: their parents are out of the mainstream and dang proud of it.

It reminds me of the “in the world” not “of the world” paradox that I felt growing up as a Christian teenager not that long ago. My parents (and Christian ancestors before them) held us to different standards. I didn’t really listen to secular music, didn’t go to parties, didn’t broadcast boy crushes or go to dances, didn’t play in the same sandbox as my non-Christian peers. My parents were preparing me for the world they envisioned for me: a place where spiritual self-discipline and maturity were valued far above popularity or personal pleasure.

As a parent of three teenagers, I’m starting to see patterns myself. I am doing what every parent ahead of me has done, which is to prepare our children for the world that we expect for our children, not necessarily the world they will actually face.

For example, if you were raised in a countercultural, homeschool model--or experienced a childhood on the mission field--you might just raise your children as a cultural renegade. If you were raised in poverty, with a fatalistic view of the world’s injustice, then your parenting will likely reflect that bitterness. If Ms. Chua, a Yale university professor married to a Harvard Law School graduate, raises two daughters, why wouldn’t she expect them to compete in the uber-competitive world of ambitious scholars?

But what if the world our children face looks different from ours? Then what?

I realize how completely obvious is my thesis. We raise our children according to our own realities. Duh. But what is more interesting to me is the pious way we cling to those realities. Human beings--and particularly mothers--are insanely protective of their parenting methods, going to great lengths to either discredit or praise the styles of others. What mother hasn’t attended a play group, an open house, a mom’s group--without harboring all sorts of secret prejudices against the efforts of other mothers? It’s embarrassing, really, the way we fortify our own methods against the perceived methods of outsiders. And if you really want to get mothers worked up, ask them what they think of the way their nieces and nephews are being raised. I have yet to meet a family that didn’t whisper in private about their family’s parenting shortcomings.

Frankly, I don’t like it. It might be natural, but the older I get and the longer I teach public school (where the taxonomy of parents is more vast than the animal kingdom), it smacks of what we used to call “legalism” in my church. Is there a way to agree upon some common parenting “doctrine” rather than bicker over non-essentials, like whether kids should carry hand sanitizer or what age a girl should wear mascara?

Maybe not. This isn’t religion, you know. But we would do well to give some grace to the parents who are living a reality different from our own. Don't mistake me--I am not so egalitarian to suggest every method is equal. The problem with most multi-cultural philosophies is the fear of calling a spade and spade. Citing diversity alone cannot excuse bad parenting, so a culture associated with, for example, teen motherhood, elitism, racism, or lack of education, does not legitimize its practice. But I am suggesting that while every method of raising a child isn’t healthy, there are many healthy ways--besides yours--to raise a child.

When I was a younger teacher, I used to judge harshly the decisions of my students’ parents. Now with three teenagers at home, when every day demands discernment and every decision invites failure, my husband and I must ask God for more flexibility than I prepared for. Is this a Tiger Mom decision, Lord? Puppy-Daddy Day? Grizzly Bear moment?

Let your friends, sisters, and neighbors raise their children without your smug judgment. They don’t need your passive-aggressive manipulation (“I have these great parenting videos you might like to watch”) or your pious pronouncements. What they do need is one more encourager to rally around the shared virtues of generosity, hard work, and goodness.