The Right Tool
I've had a couple of cars in my time that needed a "specialty tool" to open things up.
The last car that needed a "specialty tool" was our Honda Civic. It was a great car. It served us well. But I needed a pair of pliers, specifically needle nose pliers, to open the hood to this car.
The thing that you would typically pull to open a car hood had broken. So, if I didn't have these pliers, I couldn't open the hood.
It's a tool that's not typically thought of to open the hood of a car. Yet, it's the only tool that would open my car's hood. I knew this, because I drove that car. It was my car. You wouldn't have necessarily known that you needed to use something different to open up my car's hood unless you looked closely. I only knew how to open it up because I was in it everyday, I knew my car and what it needed to open it up.
And, here's the thing...
This is true when it comes to students... when it comes to our own kids. Each student is different. You can't always use the same tools on every student you come in contact with. Morgan is very different from Carter. I can't talk to them the same way. The words I use. The tone. The jokes. If I want to connect with both of them, I need to find what works with them. How I like to connect isn't necessarily the same for Carter or Morgan.
You have to use what works. You have to work to find connection points. Connection points that are ever changing... because our students and kids are growing up. And the only way to know that, is to get to know your students. To take the time to get to know our ever-changing kids. To look closely into their lives and be with them.
If you do that, you'll discover what you need to open up their lives to you. I can't promise that it will be easy or that it won't take time. It's tough. It's hard. Sometimes you'll be frustrated. But as parents, as youth leaders, it's our job to not give up. It's our job to push forward and to love them through the tough points. Because in the end, everything that is worth it is rarely easy. And if nothing else, take heart in knowing you're not alone. Keep pushing. They're worth it.
The Rosco P. Coltrane Hot Pursuit
I love the Duke's of Hazzard.
Especially Rosco P. Coltrane, when he says, "I'm in hot pursuit!"
The dude is hilarious. But all too often, I find I'm just like him... chasing hard after something I really want.
As I was looking at the 10 Commandments before Covid, it hit me...
"I am so worn out. Just exhausted."
Now this could be the result of a couple of things...
Lack of sleep. Not eating right. Lack of exercise. Work schedule plus the kids' activity schedule.
But more times than not, it's because
I'm
Not
Following
The
First Commandment...
"You must not have any other god but Me." - Exodus 20:3
More times than not, when I'm exhausted, it's because I'm chasing after other gods in my life other than the One True God.
-Acceptance from my kids
-Success in my job
-Success with money
-Performance in a sport
-Parenting my kids
The list could go on and on. And it's a list of a hot pursuit of "other gods" - Like Rosco chasing after the Duke Boys... I get exhausted chasing something I rarely ever catch.
But...
The 10 Commandments isn't simply a list of do's and don'ts - right's and wrongs - laws... it's a glimpse into the heart of God. God doesn't want me to simply keep Him first (whatever that means) because He's got a big ego, He wants me to pursue Him because that pursuit brings life and not exhaustion.
So what's your "Rosco P. Coltrane" hot pursuit?
Why not switch it up and get in hot pursuit with God?
I Don't Like this Song
Morgan loves riding in the Jeep... like LOVES it.
If it's nice out, she wants to ride everywhere in it, especially to her dance classes. And not only does she want to ride in it, we have to have the radio up loud... especially when we pull up to drop her off.
So yesterday, as we got closer to dropping her off, it became apparent that Morgan "needed" the right song to roll up on. As we approached the last two stoplights, wrong song after wrong song came on. Then commercials. What were we going to do?
As we rolled through the last green light, in my mind I thought, "Well, if we don't have a good song, I'll just drive down the street and turn around... we have time for that." I pushed a button that played a song... "Dad, I don't like that song. It's boring." I pushed another button, "No dad, not that song." As I pushed the third button I realized it was a commercial, so I kept going past her dance studio.
"Dad, you just passed my studio." As I turned in the next entrance, I said, "Uhhhhhhh, I know Morgan. I was trying to pull up with a song on." At which point I pushed the button back to the first station to which she said, "Oh ya! I love this song, let's go." I shook my head, laughed and reminded her that she just said that she didn't like this song because it was boring.
But we kept it on as we pulled up to drop her off... unfortunately for her, nobody was out front as we pulled in to an empty parking lot. It was all for nothing...
We just shook our head and laughed. There really was no other response. It's kinda like when your toddler likes peanut butter and jelly one day, then the next they hate it. I can be like that at times. Everyone can really. Changing your mind isn't a bad thing necessarily. It's simply knowing what you want and what you don't want.
It's ok when it comes to things like this. But when it comes to commitments, not so much. That's one thing as parents Jami and I try to get our kids to understand. When you commit to something, you either finish it out, or you better have a great reason why you need to end the commitment... then end it respectfully. Too many times we try to take the easy way out of the commitments we make... whether it's with work, a sports team, a commitment with a friend or a relationship commitment.
It seems like "changing your mind" is a strength when it comes to commitments. But that's just not true. With where the world is at today, one of the things that Jami and I want our kids to learn, is the honor of following through with the commitments one makes. It's not easy all the time, but it's a legacy that is important to leave behind.
Moving Beyond Failure
Randy Johnson was a beast of a pitcher when I was growing up.
I remember where I was when Randy Johnson became the 24th pitcher in baseball history to win 300 games after struggling early in his career (having won only 64 games by his 30th birthday). That is a GI-NORMOUS achievement. People all over the world were talking about his achievement.
But what people weren’t talking about, were the 164 games he lost.
Before Randy Johnson won his historical 300th game, he lost 164 times. He had to endure 164 heartaches, failures, losing attempts… however you want to look at it. He flat out failed 164 times.
But after each loss, he kept going. He learned from what went wrong, and moved forward. He didn't quit or give up. He went out on the mound when it was time for his next start. It’s easy to look at this 300th win with awe and wonder. But it’s not the win that really matters… it’s the will and drive to keep going. To keep working. To keep moving forward, even in the midst of losing.
It’s easy to give up. And it’s hard to keep going.
In baseball. In life. In work. In parenting.
There are many times we’re going to want to give up and give in. But we won’t reach the victory in life, career, family, parenting, etc. unless we keep going. We won’t reach the achievement we want to reach, unless we keep taking steps forward – unless we keep getting up.
I’m sure those 164 losses were hard for Randy Johnson. Some probably harder than others. But he didn’t give in. He didn't give up.
I’m sure there will be seasons in each of our lives, careers, families, that will be hard. Some probably harder than others. Learn from what went wrong…
Get back up.
And keep moving forward.
"Jeremiah, say this to the people of Judah: This is what the Lord says: You know if a man falls down, he gets up again. And if a man goes the wrong way, he turns around and comes back." Jeremiah 8:4
One Thing You Need to Make a Difference
If you want to make a difference...
If you want to make a difference...
Have More Conversation.
If you want to better your marriage...
Have More Conversation.
If you want to be a better parent...
Have More Conversation.
If you want to be a better friend...
Have More Conversation.
If you want to have peace...
Have More Conversation.
I think I need to...
Have More Conversation.
You?
Ears Not Jeers
If I'm honest, quarantine really hasn't been all that difficult for our family.
We’ve been able to continue working and taking short excursions out to parks and the beach. Steven Furtick talked about a new normal. And I’m on board for that. I don’t want to go back to what normal was. Crazy kid schedules. Dinners on the go. Family-less time - meaning - while we were with each other, we were so preoccupied with other things that is wasn’t really quality time. This time in quarantine has really done something powerful…
It has brought us wholly back together.
This time in quarantine has also put a spotlight on an area we need to grow as a family as well.
Kindness.
There have been more times than I care to admit where I’ve had to redirect our kids’ words to each other or one of us because of their angry tone or flat out rude words. I can redirect calmly and collectedly for a period of time. But there’s a point that I hit where enough is enough and my tone and words reflect what I’m trying to correct in my kids. One evening in my “lighter moods” I redirected my kids’ rude and mean words to each other with a new saying… “Ears not jeers,” I said to one of them. You see, one of our kids thought he/she heard the other say something rude. So, out of revenge, that child said something rude back.
I had heard exactly what the first child had said. It was in fact, kind and encouraging. So because the second child heard wrong and said something rude back, I created a new saying…
“Ears not jeers.”
I come up with “sayings” a lot. They just seem to fly out of my mouth from nowhere. And this one seemed fitting. “Ears not jeers.”
A few days had come and gone. Kids were rude and mean again and again. “Man,” I thought, “This is just so discouraging. They keep not loving each other well.” For a parent, one of the most discouraging things is to witness their children not loving each other well… to be mean and rude to each other. To me, it just hurts to see that play out. At the time, I didn’t know what else to do. We had verbally corrected them. Grounded them from devices. Made them do an afternoon’s worth of chores. Early bedtimes. We even… get this… we even made them spend the night in each other’s rooms. Alternating nights, one would sleep in their bed while the other would sleep on the floor in a sleeping bed (I thought that was pretty funny). But still, more arguing. More fighting. More rudeness. More being unkind to each other.
Then it hit me.
Their behavior had become a habit.
Habits are routine. Habits happen over and over. Habits are easy. Habits are just what happens.
Their behavior had become a habit which had become normal.
And to break their habit, we had to replace that habitual behavior with something else… with a new habit. You see, it wasn’t enough to simply tell them to stop. It wasn’t enough to simply take something away that they knew they would get back eventually.
No. To break this habit meant that they needed to replace it with something else.
But what were we going to help them with to replace the habit?
Their habit, being unkind to their sibling, is ultimately a heart issue… HAM…
It starts in their Heart which translates to their Attitude which then transponds out through their Mouth.
And in my opinion and experience, the thing that pierces and changes a person’s heart the most is the Bible. So one evening I told Jami that we needed to sit down and talk as a family. After dinner, we all stayed at the dinner table and Jami told the kids that we needed to talk about our attitudes. And I started to talk… my words to the kids as I looked at them in their eyes…
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being kind all the time. I’m sorry for being frustrated as I’ve tried to correct you guys when you’ve been unkind. That’s not right. And I’m sorry.”
I didn’t notice it, but later, Jami told me that Carter’s mouth dropped and he shifted in his chair to listen. She said that she could see him physically open up to hear what I had to say. Had I not opened by apologizing the conversation and their behavior in the following days might have been different. What I said after, might have gone in one ear and out the other. Sometimes as parents, we need to initiate the apology. For me, a lot of times, I get caught up and focused on correcting their behavior… and rightly so. But there are times where it’s right and appropriate to own up to the mistakes we’ve made. That night was the right night for me. The kids didn’t expect it and I believe God used it to soften their hearts.
That wasn’t the end of the conversation. I then took my phone and went to the Bible app and read James 1:19-20... check it out:
“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, 20 because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”
“Quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” “Ears not Jeers…” Get it? The kids laughed when I said that after reading the verse.
It wasn’t enough for me to apologize. It wasn’t enough to simply have an after dinner discussion. Remember, this behavior, the words from their mouths, came from their attitudes which originated from their hearts. It had become a habit. So I wanted to replace it with something else. Not only did I read the verse, I let them know that we were going to memorize it.
God’s word is the replacement. Memorizing God’s word is the replacement for their habit. Being quick to listen. And slow to speak. And slow to anger. Memorizing James 1:19-20 and really letting that live within our hearts and minds is the exact right replacement for their habit... for our habit.
For the last week, we’ve been intentional about memorizing that verse. And I know it’s working. The rudeness and unkindness have been melting away. Will they be perfect? No. No one is. Will they be unkind again? Probably. But I want that to be the exception.
So now, when I say “Ears not jeers,” the kids are reminded of James 1:19-20.
Be quick to listen. Be slow to speak. Be slow to become angry. Because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.
The Masks We Wear
I loved wearing masks when I was a kid... LOVED them!
It didn’t matter if it was Spiderman, Batman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Zorro. Whenever I could wear a mask, I would. Halloween was a highlight growing up because that meant I could get a new costume with inevitably came with a mask. But unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to wear it before October 31, no matter how hard I tried. I. Simply. Loved. Masks.
The thing about masks, for me, was that as soon as I put the mask on, I was instantly transformed into that hero. I was no longer Todd Ruth. No. My identity was Batman. Or Spiderman. Or my favorite, Zorro. And the garage at 242 Altgeld in South Bend, Indiana, was transformed into Zorro’s lair.
The era of me wearing masks had come and gone… until now. Now, I find myself having to wear a mask to walk into certain businesses. Before, I chose to wear masks and pretend I was someone else, protecting humanity at all cost. Now, I’m made to wear a mask if I want to enter certain businesses… to protect myself and humanity.
This isn’t a political statement. And I’m not arguing about the benefit or lack of benefit in wearing masks. No.
As I look back at my life, over the 44 years, I can see time and again how I wore certain masks to pretend I’m something I’m not… to pretend I’m something other than myself. Sometimes as a kid and as an adult, it was because I was self conscious of what I looked like. Sometimes it was because I was insecure about what people might think I am. Other times it was to fit in and gain the approval of others. All to protect myself.
I’ve seen this in myself. And I’ve seen this in my kids as well. Instead of physical masks, masks come in the form of social media. Photos we post (both adults and students). We hide behind our Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and TikTok profiles. Girls post photos of their bodies in an effort to gain approval and likes. Guys post photos of their cars or watches or anything that gains them more status in the eyes of their followers. It’s all masks. We wear masks to protect ourselves at all cost. And all of us have worn them at different times. We pretend we're something we're not. On and on and over and over we wear our mask only to lose who we really are and who God has called us to be.
One of the reasons I do TikTok videos with my daughter is in an effort to rip off any mask I may want to wear. It’s super clear that I can’t dance. And. I. Don’t. Care. I want my daughter to see that I’m posting content that shows who I truly am… no mask needed. And it's ok.
I want my kids to learn and know many things. But top of the list, I want them to know that…
They. Are. Enough… without masks.
I want them to find their identity in Jesus… not in a mask they might wear in search for acceptance.
When we find our identity in Jesus, no other mask is needed. Jesus tells us we are enough, not for anything we can do. No. We are enough because He is enough. And when we rest in that truth, peace and protection and love overcomes us and we no longer feel the need to wear a mask and we can live as God has called us to live.
“Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” - John 1:12
A Week of Summer Hell
I hate running.
No. Let me rephrase that. I like the idea of running. But I don’t like the actual act of it. I will only run when I need an immediate mental challenge to overcome. I’m weird. I know that. There have been times in my life where I’ve needed an immediate mental challenge… so I ask myself, “I wonder if I can run seven miles?” For someone who runs long distances on a regular basis, this may not be that big of a feat. For someone who has never ran a mile in their life, seven miles would probably be impossible. For me, it’s not an impossible task. But I don’t run on a regular basis. Actually, I don’t really run at all unless I need that immediate mental challenge to overcome. I did though, run all four years in high school. But that almost didn’t happen.
You see, when I was growing up, my parents required that I play a fall and spring sport. I never really asked them why. I guess they were trying to take up my time to help keep me out of trouble. But that’s just a guess, and I don’t know how good of a guess it is. In any case, for me, football was out. (That’s a different story I’ll tell at a later date.) So instead of football, I chose to go out for cross country. Now I say “go out for” like there were some sort of cuts. Let’s be honest, there weren’t enough idiots like me who actually joined the cross country team.
So the summer before my freshman year at Riley High School (R. I. L. E. Y. Go Riley), I walked into the school “ready” for the first practice. The actual cross country meets were 3.1 miles in distance. What I learned real quick was that the cross country practices were five or six miles Monday through Friday during the summer. And the only time we ran less, was the day before a meet. The easy day, as the coach called it, was 3.1 miles. This presented a bit of a problem… right away. The farthest distance I had ran before that summer day was 270 feet… in other words, in baseball terms… that’s a triple. More likely for me, I would typically only run between 90 and 180 feet… a single or double. So, you can imagine what ran through my mind that first day.
Not gonna lie here. It sucked.
S. U. C. K. E. D.
That first day I barely ran a mile. Then I walked. When I saw coach, I picked it back up and again. Then, when he disappeared, I would walk again. Then, when he drove to the next check point, I would run again when he came into my view. You see, we didn’t practice on a track. We ran neighborhood’s on the South Side of South Bend, Indiana. So the coach had set up check points so that he could make sure that we weren’t getting lost along the six mile course.
I did this on Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. And Friday. It was super clear that I wasn’t giving my best effort. I actually didn’t really want to even be there. Give me a bat and a glove and a baseball, and I’ll give my all. But ask me to run six miles… forget that. But I was fulfilling what my parents were asking me to do… be in a fall sport.
The summer practice ended on Friday and I walked home. Finally, the week of hell had ended and I was ready for the weekend to rest up. What I didn’t know, was that as I was walking home, my cross country coach was on the phone ratting me out to my dad.
When I got home, my dad called me out onto the front porch. I can still remember where we sat on the front porch. My dad asked me how cross country practice was going. “Uh. um. It’s going good. Um, well. Ya, it’s good.” Clearly that wasn’t the truth and my dad knew that. And, he let me know that the coach had called… BUSTED. My dad told me that the coach had called because I wasn’t giving my best effort, that I was walking too much. He said that the coach knows I could do better and actually be a good runner if I would only give it my best effort… or at least a better effort.
I’m sure I whined and complained about how hard it was to run in the summer heat… back in those days, like football, we had “two-a-day” practices. Instead of getting mad, my dad simply said, “If you give it your best at cross country, I’ll quit smoking. And if I pick up a cigarette, you can quit.”
What!? Deal. I said “deal” so quick. I mean, it was a no-brainer. There wasn’t a chance that I wasn’t winning this bet. Even if it took a month, I was in. I knew that I’d be quitting cross country sooner than later.
That discussion and deal took place in the summer of 1990. My dad hasn’t smoked since.
The joke was on me. I finished my freshman season of cross country. In fact, I lettered. Then, I finished my sophomore, junior and senior season of cross country. I lettered all four years and ran 3.1 in under 17 minutes and 30 seconds.
You see, my dad knew I could do just that if I gave my best effort. He believed the best in me. He made a sacrifice… he gave something up to help me eventually see the best in myself. Now, what he gave up helped him as well. I’m sure he’s healthier today than if he would still be smoking. But nonetheless, he made a sacrifice.
My dad could have gotten angry and given up on me. Instead, he believed in me and gave me a challenge and made a sacrifice to push me forward.
Parents, my challenge to you is this… what can you give up… no, what do you need to give up to help your child(ren) believe and see the best in themselves? What can you do today, that will help push them to be a better person now and into their life later?
Who Am I and What's Going On
44. 22. 15. 13.
Just like words have meaning, numbers do too. So, what do these numbers represent? Good question…
44 equals the amount of time that I have blessed the earth with my presence. While it also represents Jackie Robinson’s number (the baseball player that I respect the most), that’s not what we’re talking about here. Age is a weird thing. Back when I was 12 years old, I thought someone in their 40’s was ancient. But now, at 44 years old, I don’t feel old. I feel more like a 35 year old. We’ll see if I still feel the same way at 45.
22 equals the amount of time that I worked with students and families in a range of ways. It started in college and an internship I did for my youth ministry minor. Then it continued on after my undergrad work as I went to seminary and took a job as a youth pastor in Michigan. We built that ministry from six kids to 65. That might seem like a small number, but the overall church size was only around 150 members. It was one of the most rewarding and challenging jobs I had. It was also a time where we learned to train and build a volunteer team. We worked there for just over three years and left so I could work with kids caught up in the juvenile justice system… First in the jail, and then as a probation officer where I supervised kids with serious substance abuse issues and a separate caseload supervising kids who committed serious violent offenses along with kids tied up in a local gang. During this time, I worked with kids ages 13 to 18. To say it was interesting is an understatement. To say it was heartbreaking at times is well, accurate. Quite honestly, there are still stories that I haven’t told my wife and stories I won’t ever tell my kids. But some of the relationships and trust that was built with the kids and parents I’ll forever remember.
One story will stick with me forever and I tell it every chance I can. Mauricio R. … I worked with him for just over two years. He was mainly on probation for substance abuse issues and went to a local drug cottage. But he was also deeply involved in a local Latino gang. I sat with his mother, who couldn’t speak English, on a number of occasions and listened to her even though I spoke very broken Spanish, tell me how fearful she was of her son and his gang life. And that fear was founded in truth. The night after we had conducted a home search on his house, a rival gang had driven by and shot up his house. So his mom was right to be fearful. Mauricio would successfully finish his time at the drug cottage. He would also successfully complete his terms of probation. But Mauricio never successfully got out of his gang. As I was driving back from a guys trip in Ohio, I received a phone call from the local police. They got my number from my card that Mauricio was carrying in his pocket at the time he was shot in a shootout behind his home with that same rival gang. When I got back, another probation officer and myself went to Mauricio’s home as they were having the wake. As we walked up to his home, we had to pass through a sea of blue… the color the adult gang members were wearing. Any other time, we would have had been in serious trouble. This time, we simply got death stares. I could only guess what they were thinking. As we walked through the home, I asked where Mauricio’s mom was in Spanish. More stares of confusion. Why were these two white probation officers in the home. As his mother rounded the corner and saw us, she broke down in my arms. No words needed to be said. It was understood. We hugged and cried. And then we left and let her grieve with her family. Working with students doesn’t mean that everything will turn out well. And sometimes the biggest impact you’ll have is on the parents. I learned that as we were walking back through the sea of blue, this time receiving looks of thanks for showing our respect.
I also learned that even more as I next worked with kids and families with the Boys and Girls Club in St. Joseph County. We made some great relationships with the kids. And I hope that we made lasting impact on many students. Time will tell. But what I know for sure, we helped a lot of parents… single moms, single dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, foster parents… all who were raising the kids we were working with. Standing and listening to a mom who’s sister was dying of cancer. Listening to a mom struggle with not only divorce, but also tell me about how her son was struggling with their divorce. Talking with a father who had just lost his brother. Helping and listening to grandparents struggle with taking care of their three grandchildren because their mom can’t stay out of jail because of her issue with drugs.
I got into working with students to make a positive impact on their lives. To work with kids. But I found that, while we did make an impact on the students, I also found that we could make a huge impact with the parents and guardians of those same kids. The parents, who were doing their best to make the best life possible for their kids… struggling day after day. Sometimes I just listened. Sometimes I offered advice whether it was through simple discussion or parenting classes I taught. And sometimes it was in silence while we both cried.
Empathy for the people is a powerful thing. If you want to be like Jesus, it starts and ends with empathy.
And then you have 15 and 13. The current ages of my kids. I’ve been a parent for 15 years. It seems weird to say that out loud.
Being a parent is the toughest, yet most rewarding job in the world. It’s a job that, on one day, I feel like the best parent ever. We had moments, real teaching moments. I handled everything perfectly. And then, the next day, or better yet, later the same day, I feel like the biggest failure ever.
I fail everyday in some way as a parent. What I find hilarious (and I say that in the most sarcastic way ever), as I look back on my life, whether it was during the time I was a youth pastor, or as a youth worker, when I was teaching a message or a parenting class, we dealt with that same issue in parenting times ten. As I look back on some of the posts I’ve written in the past month and a half, the same thing has happened… as parents we struggle with the very same thing I had just written about. In fact, their behavior is a little extra naughty in the very same thing I had just written about. So now, as I write, I just kind of expect it... I expect that our kids behavior will be, well, a little “extra special.”
The purpose of this blog going forward isn’t to shout out loud that Jami and I have got it all figured out. To the contrary, we fail everyday… and that’s ok. We are still learning and growing as parents. I’m simply hoping that the stories I share and the applications I draw are an avenue of growth for me and you. I’m hoping that it will offer simple reminders and let you know that we’re in this together and inspire you to be a better parent and/or youth worker.
If this is your first time here, welcome. If you’ve been here before, thank you for returning.
Let’s strive to be the best parents and youth workers we can be… together.
Eight Days Left
This past Monday was great. Not just great. It was awesome.
May 11, 1976… 44 years ago I was born. So my family spent the whole day focused on me. For an enneagram 7 I was in heaven. From the time I woke up, till I went to bed, the day was all about me. Morning. Lunch. Dinner. And even the movie at home… all my choice. [Insert photo of me on a stage in a spotlight] If you haven’t guessed it yet, I like attention.
So as we laid on the couch watching the movie I chose, [The Last Full Measure - it’s based on a true story… you should watch it], I couldn’t help but feel good about how the day unfolded. I think this word is a little overused at times… but I felt really blessed at how I’m loved by my family. It really was the perfect day.
And then in the middle of the movie, probably just after 10:30 pm, Carter comes up and gives Jami his phone. I didn’t see him, but I could tell in his breathing that something was wrong… really wrong.
“I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why.”
With eight days of e-learning left, Carter checked his classes and grades and learned he was getting an F in his band class. Eight Days… An F people.
As you can imagine, I hit pause on the movie, and Jami and I went into police detective mode as we threw questions at him. “How did this happen?” “What have you been doing during e-learning?” “Are you missing assignments?” By this time Carter was in full-on tears and panic. Not only was he getting an F in band, he was also getting B’s in a couple of classes which sent more questions his way. In his defense, a couple of the classes are probably tough and a B is acceptable (the classes he is getting B’s in are classes that if I was honest I got C’s and D’s in). At this point, the obviously bigger problem was the F. So we turned the focus back on that class. As he was talking about his band class, it appeared that there were some practice sheets that weren’t filled out. But he insisted that they weren’t there before. At 10:47 pm we told him he needed to email his teacher and get working on getting the outstanding work completed. So he went back down to the basement to begin to get caught up.
After he went back downstairs we turned the movie back on. After about 25 minutes after resuming the movie, Jami asked, “Is that crying?” I didn’t hear anything. But sometimes a mother’s ears are better than dad’s… let’s be honest, most times in circumstances like this, a mother’s ears are most always better than dad’s. So I hit pause again, waited for a few seconds… sure enough, I could hear Carter crying from the basement.
We walked to the basement door and called Carter over to see what was going on. Before Carter said a word, we could tell that he was in full-on panic mode.
“I’m gonna get an F in the class. I won’t be able to get in a good college or college at all. So I won’t be able to get a good job to make the money I need to buy food. What am I gonna do?”
Panic mode. Like, pacing back and forth, out of his whits panic.
Carter’s a freshman. In his brain, he jumped 8-10 years down the road. YEARS. Based on this one grade. In his mind, his life was all but over.
And in that moment, in a split second, I went from being concerned about his grade to worried about him as a person, as my son. So after we got him calmed down to a point at which he could listen, we reminded him that he already emailed his teacher. He already emailed his counselor. We told him that what he needed to do now was to get the assignments done one chunk at a time. It doesn’t help to look at the five to eight outstanding pieces of work all at once. Take it one assignment at a time. Then, I told him that he was going to stop at midnight and go to sleep. To get done what he could tonight, then attack some more tomorrow… one step at a time. We can only do what we can do with the time we can do it. Sleep. Get some rest. Wake up at eight or nine the next morning, and do some more.
Then, I had him walk up the stairs, and I gave him a big, long hug, and told him I loved him.
You see, as I stood there, witnessing my son in full panic mode, I quickly realized that he didn’t need us to question and tell him he needed to get his work done. He didn’t need us to put more pressure on him. He needed us to help him focus on what he could do, do it to the best of his ability, and let him know that we love him no matter what.
He then went back downstairs and started to work some more. After a little less than an hour, Carter came back upstairs to go to bed. I wasn’t expecting what he told us next… he told us that he finished the rest of the outstanding pieces of work. “Good job bud,” I said. We told him that it was going to be fine. He did what he could and hopefully his teacher will reach out with the answers he needed in the morning… and he went to bed.
As we watched the rest of the movie I couldn’t help but think about what had just happened. Two things hit my brain… One, I didn’t think Carter had an F. He’s an A Honor Student. There had to be something wrong on the teacher’s end. While I thought that, there’s no chance that I was going to say that to Carter. And two, how many times do I react like Carter reacted… I focus on the extreme negative and go to the darkest place rather than focusing on what I can do and trust that I will be ok despite my circumstances and honor God to the best of my ability.
You see, we all have circumstances in our life that make it feel like it’s not in our control. If you haven’t been there yet, you will be. Some of us are there right now. With our kids. With our job. Our finances. Our health. And if we let our focus wonder off of where it should be, we can easily spiral into panic and despair. I’ve been there. That’s where Carter was, until he was wrapped in his father’s arms. And that’s where God wants us, that’s where we are… in the Father’s arms. We just need to adjust our focus to realize it… that in the middle of our panic and despair, God is right there with us, calling us into his embrace. All we can do is our best and know that God is there with us.
The next morning came, as it usually does… there’s always a morning. Carter completed his e-learning. We could hear him joking with his Math teacher. And before I left the house around 12:25 pm, Carter still hadn’t heard from his band teacher. As I was heading back home, I called Jami to see how things were going. She said that Carter had finally heard from his band teacher. I said, “So what did he say!?” The teacher said, “My bad, it was a typo. You have an A in the class.”
A TYPO!? A freaking typo!? Are you kidding me? Nope… not kidding.
I’m glad it worked out like I thought it would work out. But things don’t always work out the way you want them to. Things won’t always go our way. But there’s always a morning. Morning always comes. And if we do our best, we can rest easy knowing that we’ve done all we can do. As a parent, we learned some valuable lessons that night. Each moment demands something different. It’s up to us to be open to what our child needs from us in that moment. Sometimes it’s discipline. Other times it’s a hug and encouragement to realign their focus.
And for each of us personally, God meets each one of us in all of our circumstances, calling us to his embrace.