Archive for the ‘marriage’ category
October 30, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. October 30, 2019
I was born in 1954, about sixty years ahead of my time. With all the reality TV shows on these days I’ve figured out that a reality TV show about me, or my special quirks, is still in the future. If there can be a TV show about Doctor Pimple Popper, I’m sure I could have been just a couple of years removed from starring on screen with my nasty toenails and emerging aging spots.
In fact, looking back over my life I can come up with a long list of reality TV show ideas that I could have been featured in. For example, “College Prank-stars”! My creativity came out as I lived in various dormitories. I flunked Latin, but I would have “aced” laughter. Like when I put Orange Tang powder mix under the bed sheet of a friend down the hallway and then turned the heat up full blast. At three o’clock in the morning he woke up sweating and his back a sticky orange.
Or maybe a show called “Benevolent Bill”, where I’d pay it forward for the family’s McDonald’s order who are in front of me; or take care of the cost of the next person who comes into a Starbucks. The cameras could zoom in on their reactions. What would the Girl Scout think if I came up to her outside of the supermarket and bought her whole supply of cookies? Or left a fifty dollar bill as a tip for the hotel housekeeper! Or left a note for the trash collector guys saying, “No trash this week, but here’s four tickets to Saturday’s Nuggets game in the front row.”
What a hoot!
According to my wife I could star in a show called “Snore Roar”. One time she recorded me in the middle of the night. The house shook in the midst of the thunder. It could be a show with sub-plots like the grandkids being afraid to have a sleep-over and Carol shopping on Amazon for ear plugs. A spin-off show could be “Alas! He Has Gas!” Not proud of that one!
My study is loaded with books, so maybe I could star in a show entitled “Book Mo-Bill”! Each episode could be divided into a “give” part and a “receive” part. I wouldn’t be able to receive…or buy…a new book until I had given one or more away. Not sure it would take off, but I like the name for the show.
“Annoying Neighborhood Canines” would bring out one of my “pet peeves”! I’d walk around the neighborhood and have confrontational conversations with neighbors whose dogs bark constantly and leave their poop for other people to pick up. Networks seem to like those dramatic encounters and, Lord knows, our neighborhood has its share of barking dogs.
And finally, I think a hit show could be “Middle School Substitute Teacher”. It would be like a reincarnation of “Welcome Back, Kotter!”, the show that gave us, amongst other things, John Travolta! The quirks and personalities of 11 to 14 year olds would lend themselves to a never-ending supply of episode ideas. Think of it! Cafeteria conversations, principal office dialogues between administrators and offending students, middle school boys discovering deodorant sticks for the first time, and the perusing of the enormous “Lost and Found” tables.
Yes, my reality TV hit shows are things of the future that someone else will star in. For now, I’ll just have to sit in my favorite Starbucks on my favorite stool (Last stool on the right, looking out at Pike’s Peak), drinking my Pike Place brew, and thinking about what could have been.
Categories: children, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: ahead of my time, Doctor Pimple Popper, Girl Scout ccokies, middle school, middle school substitute teacher, paying it forward, pranks, Reality TV, substitute teacher, television, Welcome Back Kotter
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October 12, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. October 12, 2019
There are certain events and traditions that each of our families practice that stand out in our minds. We remember them years later and long to return to those moments. They aren’t necessarily Grand Canyon pictures, but rather shared experiences that still reach down and touch our hearts.
Simplicity may define them. I remember family Monopoly games in my growing up years. I remember my sister hiding some of her play money under her legs to make her brothers believe she was a Monopoly welfare recipient.
I remember riding in the family car to Paintsville, Kentucky. The road was almost as curvy as Hawaii’s “Road to Hana”, so Mom would make each of the kids take a Dramamine before we left Winchester.
For Carol and me, we’ll always remember hiding the Christmas presents in the freezer in the garage. The freezer no longer worked, but it worked as the depository for toys bought at summer garage sales.
We’ll remember February and March spring break trips to her parents, Richard and Barbara Faletti, living in the Phoenix area; and we’ll remember my mom always greeting the kids with the statement “Give me some sugar!” Our oldest daughter, Kecia, got into the tradition of bringing her a sugar packet in response.
We’ll remember Christmas Eve Candlelight services at church and countless soccer games for all three kids. We’ll remember all of our cats, all named by the kids: Tickles, Prince Charming Kisses, Katie Katie CoCo Puffs, Duke. and Princess Malibu (Boo). I have no idea how the name “Duke” appeared in the midst of the rest. It must have been David’s choice. He was prone to being short and to the point.
We’ll always remember Lizi having a piece of pizza sausage stuck to her cheek, totally unaware of its attachment.
And NOW, new traditions are being formed. One of them involves the three older grandkids (Older, because #4 made his debut on September 19…yes, 9/19/19! A palindrome!). We now play a game at their mom’s house that they’ve call “Hide and Scare.”
Here are the simple rules. Granddad (That’s me!) goes and finds a hiding place while the grandkids count to fifty in the main level bathroom. On the mention of “fifty” they come searching. Grandad is expected to hide in a different place each time…closets, behind shower curtains, around corners, in the pantry…and he is also expected to do things that make it scarier, like closing all the doors to all the upstairs bedrooms and placing decoys under blankets to fool the searchers.
“Hide and Scare” went on for an hour yesterday. I got my steps in going up and down the stairway. Each hiding moment was culminated with “the scare”, jumping out of the closet with a scary yell that sent the searchers squealing and then laughing back to the main level restroom where the whole sequence would begin again. Granddad is expected to give a monster-like cry at the least likely moment.
It’s something that they will remember, and years from now they will think back to those moments and have a moment of inner giggling.
You see, we have a habit of not remembering, and it’s the remembrances that get lost in the busyness of life that bring a sweetness to it. Sometimes our approach in the present has a soured feel to it, blind to the blessings in our past. Perhaps we need someone to request that we “give them some sugar”, or, better yet, we need the sweet memory of a granddad standing in a closet waiting for the anxious moment of giggling grandkids to discover his hiding place.
Categories: children, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Dramamine, family, family customs, family history, family memories, family stories, grandchildren, granddad, grandkids, grandparenting, grandparents, growing up., hide and seek, making memories, Road to Hana
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August 27, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. August 27, 2019
My grandson, Jesse, is a great kid. More energy than General Electric, more creativity than a box of 120 Crayola crayon colors. He’s also a sixth grader who can’t sit still, except when he’s reading or watching TV.
Last Sunday he sat beside me in church. It was his first Sunday not in the special gathering for children, the setting where active energy is expected, even planned for. The sanctuary of adults is a bit more laid back and placid in its journey.
Jesse fidgeted, slithered down in his seat a few times like a snake moving down a hill, set off his multi-functioning watch a couple of times, and even curled his legs up and sat still for a few moments. I chuckled a few times for several reasons.
I saw the shadow of myself in him! 54 years removed, mind you, but I could see myself. I had that kind of energy once…a long, long time ago!
It’s different these days, though. In my childhood years our church, Central Baptist Church in Winchester, Kentucky, didn’t have a special program for kids to go to during the worship service. If you were of school age you went to the worship service in the sanctuary. it wasn’t even called “the adult service”. It just was!
Every Sunday I would be positioned between my mom and dad, singing the hymns and snoozing during Pastor Zachary’s sermon. It was the one place each week where I knew my parents were captive. They couldn’t get up to go fix dinner or mow the lawn or go to work. They were my flanks for a good hour or longer. My dad’s arm often functioned as my pillow and my mom’s stern look as the controller of my movement.
By the sixth grade I had been present for roughly 500 sermons, since we were “two-a-dayers” (Sunday morning and Sunday evening). My brother, sister, and I knew that good behavior translated into popcorn and The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday night when we returned home from the evening service.
But times have changed. Attention spans are shorter, TV commercials are now snippets, and things move faster.
Patience is an ancient virtue. Just have a slow internet experience. It feels like you’re waiting in a long restroom line at a Broncos game.
So I don’t blame Jesse for his hyper-ness. I don’t blame anyone. In some ways his restlessness in worship is the result of adults who don’t want to be annoyed by active kids. I remember a few years ago someone at the church I pastored complained about how disruptive it was to have kids in church. On that Sunday a mom had kept her children with her, instead of having them go to the special gathering for children.
I responded that it was nice to actually have children in our church. It was not the response that was wanted. Children, it seemed, were to be banished to the basement so the adults could learn a couple of spiritual pointers for the week ahead.
So adults have gotten used to the little ones not being with us as we worship, and the young ones have gotten used to doing their own thing with their own mannerisms, methods, and activity level.
It’s how it is, and Jesse is who I once was!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: attention span, Central Baptist Church, children's church, church worship, energetic, energy, fidgeting, hyper kids, sixth grade, sixth graders, Sunday evening service, Worship, worship services
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August 10, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. August 10, 2019
Last week I wrote about the tragic loss of a father of five (“Answering the Why”, August 4; WordsfromWW.com) in a road accident. The family was in the midst of a move from our city to another community. It was a new beginning, new challenges and opportunities, new friends to make and schools to attend…and then in a few seconds everything changed. My blog post focused on the “why” questions of life that we strive to answer and yet we can find no answer.
Yesterday I attended the funeral of the father. During the course of the service there was pain and there was laughter…and there was laughter, acting like a blanket, bringing some warmth to cover the chill of the deep, deep pain.
The laughter was healing. It drew the gathering into the story, the person. It swung like a grapevine from the heartache of loss to the loss of opportunities to the emptiness of Dad’s chair at the table.
Every chuckle about a past encounter or a humorous saying was tempered with the realization that it would never occur again. And yet the laughter was ointment for the aches of the journey.
I’ve thought a lot about this tragedy in the past week. In the midst of the accident details there’s a sense of injustice and a rising amount of anger. The laughter helps simmer the unrest that has been planted in people’s souls.
My mom’s last few years were filled with the afflictions that Parkinson’s Disease can bring. The loss of mobility and the devastating effect on her ability to speak. My sister and I recently retold “Mom stories”. It’s been five years since she passed and, although we remember the pain, we shared the stories of who she was, experiences we shared and conversations we had…and we laughed. The humor brought her back to us. We could see her sitting in her chair, watching “Dancing With The Stars” and working her crossword puzzle. We remembered how she would use her “Baptist Mom Guilt” on us to make us do things we didn’t want to.
We could envision the times when she would grab on to Dad and say her classic line of romance to him: “Kiss me, slobber lips! I can swim!” We would pretend we were grossed out by the dining room affection, but it really caused us to chuckle…and still does.
There is pain in life and laughter in the pain. It is not an escape from the grief, but rather footwear for the journey. The steps begin with the uncertainty of a tightrope and gradually gain a steadiness as we balance our mourning with the memories.
Our souls cry out. Our laughter helps us to keep going.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, love, marriage, Parenting, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: experiencing loss, funeral, funeral service, grief, grieving, grieving a loss, heartache, humor and tragedy, laughing, laughter, loss, pain, Parkinson's Disease, remembering, remembrance, why questions
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July 28, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. July 28, 2019
It’s been 40 years since we exchanged vows. Crazy! Doesn’t seem that long! It occurred to Carol and me last night that several of our aunts and uncles attended that wedding ceremony, conducted at Community Presbyterian Church in Clarendon Hills, Illinois on a warm and sunny Saturday afternoon. We thought they were old! We figured out last night that we’re now OLDER than they were when they listened to a couple of 25 year olds covenant to love one another. Yikes!
We were two different people in many ways. I had deep roots in eastern Kentucky. Think J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy! Carol was “big city suburban”. Both of our fathers had served in the military in very different ways, my dad as a cook in the Navy and her dad as a pilot with the Army Air Corps. Her family was a bit more affluent than mine, but both of our families had a closeness that stays rich in our minds.
Carol had been raised in the Catholic church. I had always been a Baptist, first Southern Baptist and then American Baptist. Growing up Catholic, she had heard about a Baptist seminary in Lombard, Illinois, and she assumed that the students there walked around dressed like Franciscan monks, wearing robes, sandals, and sporting shaved heads. I assumed she liked fried fish since it seemed like all Catholic churches had Friday night fish fries.
We quickly learned that our assumptions were wrong, and discovered what was right about each of us that seemed to mesh us together in a comfortable relationship of laughter and shared life.
In our first year of marriage we learned about grace and forgiveness. We were like two rookies heading into our first season together. Carol knew that I loved pecan pie and she made one for me, an expression of her love for her new husband. I ate a piece of pie and expressed my gratitude to her. It was very good! Let me emphasize that! It was very good! But then the next day went by and the next day after that. Late meetings and softball doubleheaders kept me from eating the second piece of the pie. About five days later when I finally thought about having another piece, Carol stopped me. Some green stuff has started growing on the pie crust! She was crushed and I experienced what it means to “eat humble pie”. Forgiveness was extended. Forty years later if I have a desire for pecan pie she points me in the direction of the local Village Inn and suggests that I go there and have a piece.
She learned the privileges of being the spouse of a pastor, but, more often than not, she experienced the unjustified expectations of it. People blessed us in so many ways and people brought heartache and frustration to us. She listened to me on numerous occasions as I came home from a church meeting that had been frustrating and left me questioning my calling as a pastor. On the other side, I listened to her deep sighs after being with the three kids all day. I was her chance to talk to an actual adult, her opportunity to tell someone the funny stories of the day and the new sayings our kids would spring on her.
We supported one another as we went through the deaths of each of our parents, never an easy journey. We cried tears of joy as each of our daughters walked down the aisle with their new husbands. We experienced the joy of grandparenthood together.
When you walk with someone for 40 years you realize that it’s difficult to remember when you weren’t walking together. Roughly two-thirds of our lives have now been spent eating meals at the same table, taking walks around the neighborhood together, and being in love.
In the midst of our journey it occurs to us that the improbableness of our relationship has flowed into the inconceivable thought of not being married to one another.
As I’ve said before, sometimes we don’t think about being blessed when we are in the midst of the blessing. I have been, I am, and, God willing, I will be for a long, long time!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: 40 years of marriage, celebrations, family backgrounds, family history, family memories, family stories, marriage vows, vows, Wedding, wedding anniversary
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July 13, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. July 13, 2019
I was telling my sister a story from my middle school substitute teaching experiences of this past year. It probably was the one where a seventh grade boy tried to hide in the library and play video games on his cell phone.
She laughed and said, “Oh, Bill, you make me laugh every time you come to visit us!”
Shortly after that we drove past a section of run-down houses and properties along the banks of the Ohio River that made us shake our heads and I said, “I’ve come to realize that there are those people in life who make you laugh, those you make cry, and those who just make you shake your head.”
Laughers, lamenters, and losers.
I’m in the laughing category. I had enough lamenting during my 36 years as a Baptist pastor. There was plenty a Sunday where someone who looked like they had been sucking on lemons before they arrived at church, continued siphoning the joy out of the congregation. When I retired…kinda’…at the end of 2015 laughter moved back in with me.
Being a coach and a substitute teacher with middle schoolers brings multitudes of laughter into my life.
Like the kid who decided he wanted to sit under his desk one morning as school was beginning. My advice to sit IN his seat went unheeded and so he found himself in the principal’s office before we had even said the pledge of allegiance.
Or the young lady who noticed that I was giving nicknames to several other students and she wanted one. So I named her “Beano”, which was just a slight variation from her real name. I heard her grumble to her friend, “Oh, great! He gives me a nickname that deals with farting.” The next year I changed it, after discovering what a great young lady she was and her level of intelligence. She became “Braino”. She liked that better.
I love to laugh. In most situations of life (Notice I said most!) I can find an avenue towards laughter.
Lamenters are those who have endured the traumas and trials of life and you feel for them. Long illnesses, tragedies, unfair circumstances, heartaches…the list of life events leaves the listener saddened and empathetic.
There are some lamenters who feel almost at home in the residence of drama. They wear the moments like a dark sweater that fits well.
Lamenters sap our energy. We hurt for them, try to walk with them, and offer encouraging words to them.
My dad was a laugher and my mom was a lamenter. Through 65 years of marriage he encouraged her and walked with her. He loved her dearly and they were about as devoted to one another as a couple can possibly be.
Lamenters aren’t bad people. They tend to simply be more pessimistic. Laughers are, more often than not, optimists.
But then there are the losers! That is, those people who just make you shake your head. They are the ones who after hearing what they did, you mutter to yourself, “What was he thinking?” They are folk who overslept the day common sense was being distributed, and tend to think that the solution to their financial debts is just one more lottery ticket away.
Like the man in Oregon who burglarized a house, along with his cat. (Does that make his cat a “cat burglar”?) He was caught INSIDE the walls of the home. He had eaten two and a half cupcakes that were in the refrigerator, and had put on a “onesie” that belonged to the woman who lived in the house. The cat was wearing a tee shirt. It’s a story that you read and you just shake your head…”what was he thinking?”
Laughers, lamenters, and losers, that pretty much sums up people. I suppose I could have come up with a few other “L’s” for categories like “Lame”, “Laid Back”, and “Leave Me Alone!”, but I’ll just LEAVE it at that!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: cat burglar, common sense, criers, cryers, lack of common sense, lament, laughers, laughter, losers, making people laugh, middle school, middle schoolers, nicknames, onesie, optimists, pessimists, substitute teaching, weepers
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May 5, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. May 5, 2019
I hit Medicare-eligible age this morning! Age 65, Day 1!
You never really think about someday being 65 when you’re in high school. It’s like Bulgaria, over there but not relevant to your life.
But today it is relevant! It’s real! My “Bulgaria” just landed!
Being an optimist, I believe I’m at the two-thirds mark of my life! Yes, I see the finish line tape around 97 or 98! I said I’m an optimist!
So what do I hope for in the last third of my life? What do I hope defines it? Since I believe God still has a purpose for me to breathe on this planet, what will stand out as points of emphasis…and, perhaps, areas that will keep be focused.
1) Relationships- This morning as I was showering I suddenly had thoughts about my dad, and had one of those moments of grief that comes out of nowhere. I miss him! It brought to the surface the importance of relationships. Family and friends are the blessings of God upon us. Carol and I are about to celebrate 40 years of marriage. We’ve been blessed with three children, three (soon to be four) grandchildren, and two son-in-laws. It’s the spice of life for me!
When I travel back to Ohio and Kentucky I try to always go by the cemetery outside of Paintsville, Kentucky to visit the grave sites of Mom and Dad, uncles and aunts, and grandparents. I can hear their accented voices and remember the long-ago conversations. There are people in this world who focus on the wrong “R’s” as their focus for life. But “Riches” and “Religion” just don’t bring depth and joy. Notice I said “Religion”! Faith, or “right religion”, if you will, comes out of a relationship with Jesus. I see a lot of lonely, unhappy rich folk; and I also see a lot of disgruntled uptight religious people, who always seem to wear their underwear a little too tight!
2) Work as Play- I’m retired…kinda’! After 36+ years as a church pastor, I retired at the end of 2015. Better said, I transitioned! I still pastor, I just don’t get paid for it! Today I’m speaking at First Baptist Church in Simla, Colorado, something I do about twice a month now for the 15 Salt of the earth that show up.
Work is now like play for me. When I substitute teach I enjoy it. They pay me to do it, but the pay is more like a token of appreciation. Last week the principal, Mr. Smith, said to me, “Coach Wolfe, we need to put your picture on the staff listing in the main hallway. My grandson keeps telling me that!” I took it as a compliment! Each day when I go to be the guest teacher in a classroom I fill my baggie with candy and dish it out to kids as the day goes on. One 8th Grade girl seems to smell my presence in the building, like she’s a bloodhound! I enjoy it! I enjoy coaching! I enjoy writing, and someday I might even get paid for writing something…maybe!
Work is now like play for me. Funny how that is! I can’t remember too many church council meetings that could have been defined as play!
3) Be Used by God- I will continue to ask that question in the last third of my life. How does God want to use me? Carol and I now support several missionaries in various ministries and locations, most of whom we have known in either churches I’ve pastored, or been a part of team I’ve coached, or is a family member. We look to where we can help and be partners with those called to ministry.
Being used by God, however, is much more than writing a check. How can I use what I’ve learned in life to lead others? How can I be an advocate for someone who needs encouragement to stay the course? How might my life wisdom speak to those who are green behind the ears?
Although I am open to new experiences and opportunities, by the time someone turns 65 he/she is pretty well defined in regards to talents, gifts, and strengths. I know who I am, and yet am open to new leadings. In essence, I don’t HAVE to do anything, and that’s how a lot of retired folk view their last third…and they don’t! My view is a bit different. I have the freedom to be used by God in extraordinary ways, large and small- reading a book to my grandkids at bedtime and writing a book for thousand of kids to read at bedtime. Buying a cup of coffee for someone at Starbucks and having a cup of coffee with Wendell and Heather Garrison at a coffee shop close to their church camp in British Columbia.
4) Seeing Each Day As an Opportunity- Having the right perspective is something that defines our view of life. Yes, we all have people in life that cause us to grind our teeth at night, but those are few and far between. Mostly, our lives are saturated with opportunities to better the world around us.
65! I’ve been blessed! Lord, make me a blessing!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, coaching, Death, Faith, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 65, being used by God, enjoying life, life journey, life meaning, Medicare age, Purpose, purposeful living, retired, the last third of life, the pursuit of happiness, turning 65
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March 31, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. March 31, 2019
Vacations are tragically funny! We long for the excitement and happiness that the advertisements seem to convey and come back home exhausted in our search for them.
Let me say this up front! The best parts about vacations are either the deepening of relationships or the experience of being embraced by peace.
When I reflect on journeys that are the most memorable I think of being with either family or friends. The destination was secondary in importance. Memories of conversations and humorous happenings rise to the top. For example, three years ago my wife, Carol, and I took a road trip from Colorado to southern Ohio. We went to a couple of Presidential Libraries (Eisenhower and Truman) on the trip east, which were interesting, but what we’ll remember is surprising our nephew, Eric, on Sunday morning when we showed up in worship at the church he pastors In Bethalto, Illinois, and then surprising my brother at the Woodford Reserve Bourbon Distillery outside of Frankfort, Kentucky where he is a tour guide, and then being in Proctorville, Ohio for my dad’s 88th birthday celebration. Those are the moments that stand out.
And peace! Like the sound of ocean waves as a person stands on the shore is the embracing of peace that some vacations offer. It’s the feel of a gentle breeze touching your soul, an absence of noise and clutter that allows the person to hear the whisperings of God and the beauty of silence. In our culture quiet moments are under appreciated and yet vitally important!
We returned from our most recent vacation late last night. We went to The Magic Kingdom where peace and rest are like alien creatures. Once again, the best part involved the deepening of relationships- going with our oldest daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids. The magical moments were connected to them: seeing the grandkids playing in the pool with a couple of children from Brazil and listening to how they connected across Portuguese and English language barriers, watching the personalities of the grandkids emerge in their distinctive differences, and taking long walks around the Orange County Convention Center with Carol.
The frustration of air travel, the crowds of people, the price gouging of $25 just to park at Disney, and the spike in Disney food prices were all dampers on the experience. I mean…really, do I need to pay $6.00 for an ice cream bar shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head image, or $9.00 for a plain hot dog?
So why is the Magic Kingdom so popular, so overcrowded? Perhaps it’s because many of us think there is something offered there that our lives are lacking. Or perhaps it’s the other way around…our lives are lacking and we are hoping that a visit to a place that features a castle with stardust above it will fill that void.
The other interesting thing I noticed at Disney revolved around the number of people who had their faces buried in their cell phones as they waited in line or as they walked through the park. It’s as if we want to go on a magical journey, but can’t quite let go of the world we live in.
And so we arrived home last night- actually 12:30 in the morning- to recover from the crowds and the chaos and return to the “ho-humness” of our routines. We return from vacation to our vocations remembering…not the rides and attractions, but rather the conversations and chuckles.
The chuckles, however, will end when I received my next credit card statement! It will tell me we can’t afford another vacation for a long, long while, and there’s something, like I said in the first sentence, tragically funny about that!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Brazil, Disney World, escape, happiness, Magic, Magic Kingdom, Peace, peace and quiet, Portuguese, vacating, vacation, vacations
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March 16, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. March 16, 2019
A few years ago a mom was upset with me. Her son had tried out for the 7th Grade basketball team and I hadn’t chosen him. He, along with about 25 others, didn’t make the cut.
She was visibly angry.
“He played on a club basketball team!” she informed me.
“Well, good! I’m sure there’s other opportunities for him to join into, if he wants.” It was not the answer she wanted, but it didn’t seem like an appropriate moment to give her an analysis of her son’s fundamental deficiencies- didn’t have a left hand, couldn’t shoot, and was about two steps slow on defense.
What she was saying is that she had paid money for him to be a part of a club basketball team. Money should count for something!
And there it was! A fundamental flaw in the understanding of what money’s purpose is. Using it to help someone hone their math skills, or perfect their singing voice, or dribble with their left hand…those are several worthy uses of a family’s finances, if they have extra funds. But this mom’s understanding of money was that it opened doors that would otherwise remain closed. Money entitled her and her son!
It painted a mindset of a person who felt privileged, a person who expected things!
We all have that mindset in some ways; maybe not with financial funds, but with similar thinking. When I wrote my first novel I figured people would be lining up for the privilege of publishing it. So far I’m still waiting…and waiting. At least, however, I did write it!
Esau felt privileged, as many other first-borns do. David felt entitled to another man’s wife. Ananias and Sapphira didn’t seem to think twice before deceiving the first church by not disclosing all of their financial information.
Sometimes privileged people forget that they put their pants on just like the rest of us do.
And so we shake our heads at the news of people, who have money, using it for ill gain! We mutter to ourselves, “That’s just not right!” We often ponder what would happen if we had a pot load of cash? What would happen if the monthly inflow was always more than the outflow and we wouldn’t have to fear the sudden expense of a car repair or the news that one of the kids needs to start wearing braces? We think it would be a breath of fresh air, and we inhale the dream!
Money, however, has a way of taking someone down a glittery path towards distorted reality and an elevated view of their importance.
If a person doesn’t know who he is then he will allow money to define him. But if he knows who he is- his virtues, thoughts, and routines- whether he has financial resources or not will not matter.
So…one mom walked away angry and disappointed. Her dream for her son’s life in basketball had been detoured by an old coach who had seen too many wanna’ be’s who never would be.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, coaching, Community, Freedom, marriage, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Ananias and Sapphira, corruption, entitled, entitlement, Jacob and Esau, money, privilege, privileged people, scandal, scandals
Comments: 1 Comment
February 22, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. February 22, 2019
“Mr. Wolfe, can I use the restroom?”
“I’m assuming you can. I mean, you’ve got some real issues if you aren’t able to use it!”
“What?” he whispered with confusion.
“If you aren’t able to use the restroom there could be some serious repercussions.”
I point to the white board that explains the difference between asking questions that begin with “Can” versus “May”. On the board I’ve written examples:
CAN= Am I able to…
-“Am I able to eat healthy?”
-Am I able to do the Incline?”
MAY= Do I have permission to…
– “Do I have permission to get a drink of water?”
Understanding invades the inner space of the sixth grader’s mind. “Ohhh!” he exclaims as his eyebrows elevate. “May I use the restroom?”
“Yes, you may!”
Teaching sixth graders good manners and the proper way to act has become a passion of mine…sorta’! Let’s be honest! Good manners to a lot of people is as relevant as my cassette tape collection. Right before I wrote this a girl’s notebook fell off her desk and scattered papers across the classroom floor. A boy who had just returned from the restroom (“Can I go to the…I mean, may I go to the restroom?”) stepped over the papers as if they were wet paint as he returned to his desk…right next to the girl’s!
I saw the empty stares of a few others around her, blind to her plight, so I went to help. “I noticed your neighbor here just stepped over and didn’t attempt to help.”
He knew I was referring to him. “I didn’t see it!” he exclaimed as his defense.
“You stepped over it, like it was a mud puddle on the sidewalk.”
Back to honesty, however, there are a number of adults- kids in grown up bodies- who either never learned manners, or don’t really give a crap! Politeness got stuffed in a box and put in the basement about the time reality TV made its entrance.
A few days ago I was standing in the school hallway talking to two teachers as a student- actually a 7th grader!- walked right between us.
“Excuse me!” I bellowed after him.
“Huh, what?” He looked stunned and frightened, although it could have been the lighting.
“You walked right between us as we were having a conversation.”
“Huh?”
“When people are having a conversation it’s not polite to walk right between them.”
“Ohhh!” This was new information for this kid, a new kind of education and the opening bell hadn’t even sounded.
Perhaps my generation was raised by parents who placed a higher value on good manners. They seemed to make learning good manners an essential part of developing good character and keeping order in the universe.
My mom would say, “Keep your mouth closed as you’re chewing!” I’m not sure why, but she made it seem like the right thing to do. Open-mouthed chewers probably didn’t get good jobs and had to go to night school, so we kept the lips tight as we ground up the pork chop between our teeth.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to you dad! Be patient!”
Having patience seemed to be tied to politeness and we struggled with that growing up. In today’s world patience gets buddied up with whining and irritation. Most sixth graders think having patience means not being able to eat their fruit roll-up until they take the wrapper off. It’s like the sixth grade student last year whose shoes were untied. “Tie your shoes!” I commanded him.
“Why? They’re just going to come untied again!”
I wanted to say “Well, why zip your pants up? You’re just going to unzip them again next time to need to take a whiz!”
BUT… he was wearing sweat pants!
Probably hadn’t learned the word “May” either!
Categories: children, Community, Freedom, Grace, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: being polite, chewing with your mouth open, courteous, etiquette, good manners, manners, middle school, middle school students, middle school teachers, middle schoolers, patience, politeness, sixth grade, sixth graders
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Words from WW Blog 