Watercolor Ponies

The ringing of the alarm slowed penetrated my sleep-heavy mind. Despite the early hour I quickly climbed out of bed because I knew this was not a morning on which I had the luxury of pressing the snooze button, even at 3 AM. To make the flight on time, we didn't have the luxury of extra moments of sleep.

Usually I am the one getting ready to catch a flight. But today I would be staying home and my daughter would be the one taking wing. My job was simply to get her out of bed in time to travel with her aunt and uncle to the airport. This would be her first big trip apart from her mother and I. Was she ready? Perhaps more importantly, were we ready? Sure she had been off to summer camp a couple of times, but this time she would be traveling some legs of her journey completely on her own, navigating new airports, having to catch flights on time and connect with family friends at her destination who had graciously agreed to pick her up and deliver her to her aunt and uncle again (a complicated story, involving different flights and an international border.) She's quite experienced at international travel, but she's never really had to travel on her own. I admit to being a bit nervous. I'm pretty sure her mother was as well.

Despite our nervousness, I can safely say that both her mother and I are also delighted. We are delighted because we see our daughter growing more and more independent. The past couple years have been really rough ones for her for reasons that I shall not go into here. Last year she had to negotiate the adjustment to American culture (having lived most of her life outside of the country) at the same time as she had to learn the ways of American high school life. It took her some time, but she has thrived and flourished. Last summer we would have hesitated strongly about sending her off on her own, even if it were to visit family, because she was not at a place to undertake such a journey. This year she is. And for that we are very glad.

She'll turn sixteen this summer. She just got her driver's permit a couple weeks ago. (Unlike most teens, she has no eagerness to begin driving.) Sometimes I wonder how she reached this point. How did we reach this point? Surely I can't be old enough to have a 16-year-old daughter? Can we really be looking at her graduation from high school in two short years?

They tell you when you're a young parent that those childhood years pass quickly. You nod politely and acknowledge the truth of this statement, while not really comprehending it. Some days when they're young you wonder if they will ever grow up fast enough. Even when they hit their teens you sometimes wonder if they will ever grow up. But time rolls persistently onward and one day you find yourself with a 16-year-old who is heading out the door to travel without you. And the thought leaves you glad and sad at the same time. Being a parent is full of many such bittersweet moments.

Wayne Watson sang a song years ago entitle Watercolor Ponies that comes to mind at moments like these. Referring to the drawings made by children that decorate the walls or refrigerator doors of every parent, the chorus goes:

Baby what will we do, when it comes back to me and you?

They look a little less like like boys [girls] every day.

Oh the pleasure of watching the children growing

Is mixed with the bitter cup

Of knowing the watercolor ponies

Will one day ride away.

Travel well my beloved daughter. Enjoy yourself and know that you will be missed and loved every moment you are gone.

[Out of respect for my daughter's privacy I do not add any pictures of her to accompany today's post.]

Reasons to Give Thanks

All morning I've had a few lines from an old Phil Collins song in my head. He sings:


“Our sons and daughters seem to be beyond our control
The smile is fading fast. They're losing their soul.”


As the song played repeatedly in my mind, I had time to reflect on the words. I realized with thanksgiving that these words do not apply to my son and daughter. I'm blessed with two teenagers at present, a 13-year-old and a nearly-16-year-old. The journey over the past few years with the older one has been rough at times. The journey with the younger one is getting rougher. Sometimes I wonder whether I would have chosen to become a parent had I known how challenging it can be. Thankfully as I see my daughter begin to emerge from the roughest years it gives me strength and hope for my son as he now enters that same period.


Despite the hardships and the times when I want to pull my hair out or bang my head against a wall (and not only my teenagers can evoke those feelings in me!), when I stop to reflect more carefully, I realize that I have two great reasons to give thanks. My children express many typical teenage behaviours. They often inform my wife and I how embarrassing we are to them and request that we refrain from any embarrasing behaviour (which is just about anything we do!). At the same time they have also told us that parents shouldn't be boring. So we're stuck in a dilemma, since anything we do that might be interesting is also very likely potentially embarrassing to them. They can be moody, temperamental and sometimes downright exasperating. More than once I've sympathized with the advice of Mark Twain concerning teenagers.


However, when tempted to despair or lament my lot as a parent, when inclined to agree with Phil Collins, I must stop and remember the many good qualities of my children. Although they like to tell us how much we embarrass them, I think that my children still genuinely enjoy being with us. When I am away on business travel, they miss me and are glad to have me return—though they must express this with appropriate teenage reservation. During my last trip, while chatting with my daughter on Facebook, I even received one of the first direct expressions of love from her that I've had in years. Our family has the good fortune to share our meals together most evenings and we can enjoy some fun and bizarre conversations over our dinner. They are not running in crowds that are leading them into destructive or harmful behaviours. I don't wonder what my daughter is up to late at night and I have a reasonable amount of confidence that as she grows older and starts to spend more time with friends and less with us, that her own moral foundation will guide her to better decisions more often than not.


Both my son and daughter are very intelligent. My daughter is exploring and expanding her creativity through writing, drawing and painting. She is quite good and it is delightful to see her unfold her personality. My son has a more technical bent and with some focused learning could easily surpass my knowledge and understanding of computers, although at present his interest remains fixated on the world of computer gaming. Even here though I have opportunity to share in his life as we sometimes play together on the PS3 or our PCs. In most head-to-head competitions he wins, and sometimes this frustrates me, but I am learning to focus on the time spent together and allow my own competitive strike to take a back seat (or better yet, get out of the car completely.)


Sometimes I look at my children and I can see myself so clearly in them – and at times I wish this weren't so. I remember the famous words sung by Cat Stevens and echoed in the song quoted above by Phil Collins: “He'd grown up just like me, My boy was just like me.” I hope as my children grow into adulthood that they will be like me and that they will not regret that. I also hope that they will surpass me. I hope they will develop skills I never had or never fully developed. I hope that their moral character will be strong and resilient. Sometimes I worry that my failures as a parent will echo negatively throughout there lives, but then I try to remember that no parent is perfect. Despite that fact, human society has managed to continue on and has even progressed. God works with us in our real imperfection. I'm learning, ever so slowly, to accept myself as a flawed father and to celebrate my children for who they are, not lamenting that they are not who I might wish they were.


Yes, I have reason to give thanks.

Two Roads Diverged in the Middle of the Wood

This summer my family and I returned to the US from our work overseas for a couple months of rest and refreshment. At least that was how we envisioned it when we came back. The past two years have been very successful in terms of our work with minority language groups. However, that progress has cost us greatly as a family. We have struggled to meet the needs of our children as they move into their teenage years. We do not advocate building family life around the goal of making our children happy, but at the same time we do need to be aware of their needs and not sacrifice them on some false altar of ministry.

During our time in Arizona over the past month it became increasingly clear that we needed to make a radical change in order to keep our family healthy. We thought we had another year to work out the next step, but certain needs have pushed that time frame into the immediate present. Because of this we decided that we should relocate to the US for the next few years while our children complete high school. During that time my wife and I will continue our work with minority language groups, but will do so remotely. This will present a number of challenges, but will allow us to provide our children with the support they need during these important years. Living among the people groups also had challenges and the price was paid most heavily by the children. Now we will focus more on them while moving the work ahead on a slower path.

I wrestled a lot with this decision, because we have invested heavily over the past few years to establish our work. At first I felt that the only choice we had was to sacrifice our family by remaining in location and continuing to work as we had been, or to sacrifice the work by leaving the location and focusing on our family. Neither was a desirable option to me. I spoke at length with my pastor about this and he, without pushing me to any decision, challenged me to open my hand and not cling to what I felt was God's plan for me. He told me to let go and let God direct me/us in the next step. I had been paralyzed by fear, fear of the unknown and fear that our needs would not be adequately met if we made any major change. I also feared the impact on my identity. Who would I be if I were not doing the work I enjoy?

Faced with certain realities in our lives at present, the decision became quite apparent and in some sense made itself. But I still had to choose to accept it. I am still working through the impact of this on me personally, on us as a family and on our work and I hope to share some of this journey with my readers in the weeks and month ahead. Some voices argue that we should sacrifice all for the sake of the Good News, including our very family. They point to the lives of great men and women of God in the past who left family behind while pursuing their "ministry" and they hold such people up as models for us to emulate. But I question whether this is truly the "godly" choice. God is teaching me these days that if I listen to him, he can open up new paths that I might not have considered if I clung to my "ministry" at all costs. And in this new path he can continue to teach me and work through me while at the same time caring for the needs of my family. It does require sacrifice and the sacrifice is painful. But it brings blessing, at least I believe it will and have been affirmed in this choice by people I greatly respect and admire.

In the first days of working through this decision I felt great anguish over what it would cost me and the things I would have to leave behind. My focus was on the loss. But after some time God began to turn my focus toward the possibilities and opportunities that lie ahead. It doesn't mean that I won't have to give anything up or make any sacrifices. It doesn't make those sacrifices less painful or easier. But it does help me look ahead with hope and anticipation, rather than remaining stuck in the past or present in grief and sorrow. I wish sometimes that the journey of faith was a nice walk along a manicured path. It's not, because faith requires me to step into the unknown and put complete trust in a God whose ways I do not fully understand--far from it. Growing in faith is painful and exhausting. But it is also joyful and filled with hope. I invite you to continue walking on this journey with me.

Happy Birthday Teresa!

Thirteen years ago today (at 4:03 AM!) my daughter Teresa Joy entered this world. We'd been waiting for her for a long time, especially since she was two weeks overdue. Given that she was born in Phoenix, Arizona in mid-August, my wife was particularly relieved to see her born. By the time she's 50 Teresa may have covered the debt she owes to her mother for carrying her those 9+ months!
Teresa was the first born grandchild on both sides of the family. Much to her chagrin she was not joined by any female cousins for many years; the closest one being eight years younger than her. She has at times expressed a desire to have a sister, while at other times she's made it clear that she wishes she didn't have any siblings. Teresa has a strong need for time alone and finds her extroverted brother to be a nuisance much of the time. Thankfully they do have moments when they enjoy being together.


Teresa loves horses and dreams of owning her own someday. Her walls are decorated with horse pictures and she collects horse figurines and horse books. All this despite the fact that she's lived her entire life in cities! You will rarely find her happier than when she has the opportunity to be riding on a horse. If she's not doing that, you will most likely find her reading a book. Besides horse stories, she enjoys reading fantasy books. Among her favorites are the Eragon series and the books by Jeffrey Overstreet: Auralia's Colors and Cyndere's Midnight.

After Teresa was born I began to understand better the Father heart of God. I am frustrated at times by my daughter, but I love her with all my heart and want to see her grow into a mature woman who is devoted to God and full of grace and compassion. I enjoy spending time with her and look forward to what God will teach her and me in the years ahead.

Happy Anniversary!

Eighteen years ago today I married my best friend. She's been a faithful and true companion throughout this journey together and I look forward to sharing the next 18 years and beyond with her.

Happy Anniversary, my beloved Sharilyn!

Taking Flight

My eyes were moist as I put my daughter, Teresa, on the bus at 3:30 this morning. I had to restrain myself from wrapping her in a big hug, knowing that she doesn't like hugs that much anyway and particularly not in front of her friends. Oh, have we really entered that stage of parenthood? My little girl is growing up. This morning she left with the rest of her classmates for a 4-day school trip to San Diego. It's not hard to let her go in the sense that I know she is being well-chaperoned and that we have committed her to the Father's care. But it is hard to let her go because it is one small but significant step towards growing up. My love for her causes me to want to cling to her, to hold her close and protect her. But because I love her I need to let her stretch her wings and learn to fly.

This is her first time to travel somewhere without either myself or her mother along. There have been many times I have had to leave her at home while I traveled and there have been times when together my wife and I have traveled, leaving her and her brother with family or friends. But this week she is the one going away from us. She's launching out into the wider world on her own. It's a good first step. Big enough to give it significance but secure enough to not leave her parents loaded with worry. In June she'll follow this step with another when she travels with her youth group to summer camp for a week.

I'm praying a lot for her. She is a strong introvert and being among large groups of people, especially if she doesn't know them, is stressful for her. Her routine will be discarded. The food will be beyond her control. And she will get a taste, a small taste, of life without mom and dad. I pray that she will have a great time, strengthen some existing friendships and maybe even make a couple new ones, enjoy the beauty of God's creation and get to relax. But I'm also praying that she will find she misses her family a bit too. I think she will. I did at her age, though I probably would never have admitted it.

Wayne Watson wrote a song years ago that makes me teary anytime I hear it, especially now as my children transition into the teen years. The song is called Watercolor Ponies, referring to the childhood watercolor paintings we parents so proudly display on our refrigerators. The chorus goes like this:

Still I wonder baby what will we do, When it comes back to me and you? They look a little less like little boys every day. Oh the pleasure of watching the children growin' Is mixed with the bitter cup Of knowing the watercolor ponies Will one day ride away.

Parenting is such bittersweet joy. You want your children to grow into mature, independent adults. But the process of getting them there is filled with moments like this morning when you have to step back and let go a little bit more until one day they ride away on their own. Oh to cherish each moment until they do!

Little Trials

The rest of my family is currently sick. Teresa came down with it first about a week ago. Then Dietrich and Sharilyn picked it up and they've both been down for several days now as well. That leaves me as the lone healthy person to tend to their needs. I'm not a good nurse. My wife will affirm that. God is working in me, helping me to be more compassionate, patient and kind. In fact I've been meditating lately on Col. 3:12-15. But none of that seems to matter when my family gets sick. I have to work to be thoughtful, patient and caring and easily become irritated and annoyed because their illness is an imposition on my time and energy. This time I'm particularly concerned about falling ill myself since I must leave for a nearly 2-week business trip next week. I don't want to travel while sick, so I'm doing everything I can to avoid catching this, short of leaving them all here to fend for themselves while I go stay at my parents. I mentioned that the other day and my wife didn't find it very funny. Hmmm.

Being a man (or woman) of God often isn't very glamorous. It's a matter of living in Christ amidst the daily demands of life, like taking care of sick family, shopping for groceries, or going to work. It’s easy to be a man of God when everything is going great. But it’s when things aren’t ideal that he is able to form us into his image.

Middle School Girls

My daughter's youth group held a car wash this morning to raise funds for their summer camp. A couple days ago Joe, the youth leader, called me and asked if I would be participating. I told him that Teresa would certainly be there, at which point he made it clear that he was really hoping I could be there as well. I told him I would try and in the end I was able to make it. It didn't take me long to understand why he had wanted me to join in.

The middle school group at our church is not particularly large, maybe 15 kids on average. The funny thing though is that they are almost all girls. They meet Friday evenings and if on any given Friday there are 3 boys present that is a large number. So it is almost a girls club at this time. I don't understand why there aren't more boys. If I had had an opportunity to be in a youth group with lots of girls even at that age, I would have rushed to be there. But I never really went through a stage when I thought girls were "icky." Must be part of being an unguy.

Today's car wash reflected the balance in the youth group. We started out with 2 guys, 8 girls, one mother, Joe and myself. After an hour and a half or so one of the boys and his mother had to leave, which left Joe and I with 8 girls, all of them in 6th or 7th grade, and one boy. Now I am not making any statement about the ability of girls to wash cars being less than that of boys. My daughter has helped wash our car many times at home and is quite capable. What made the experience so interesting was the dynamic of working around a group of middle-school-age girls. One image that comes to mind is that of herding cats. They were having so much fun in their own girl world that it was challenging at times to keep them focused on the task of actually getting cars washed and dried. It might not have been any less challenging had it been a group of middle-school-age boys, but I can't say because that wasn't the situation today.

Actually, the morning was pretty fun. It was an opportunity to get to know some of the girls in the group a little bit and quite fascinating to observe their different personalities and the group dynamic among them. Because my daughter, currently in 7th grade, will become a teenager this summer, I've been doing some reading on girls and parenting them as teenagers. I feel like I am going to have to learn parenting all over. The middle school years are so important and yet so difficult in a child's development, both for boys and for girls. There's a lot of talk about the importance of positive female models for girls this age and I agree that this is needed. In fact I'm thankful for those around my daughter, not least of them my wife. But I think that it is also very important for us men to remain active and engaged in the lives of our daughters and girls this age as well. Because of the changes they are going through and because we as men never went through those exact changes, we may feel estranged from girls at this stage of life. They become weird to us (maybe they are weird to women as well?) and because we don't know how to handle it, we retreat and withdraw. We leave girls without the positive male influences they need so they can learn what a mature, caring man is like and how to interact with them in a positive, healthy manner. Obviously appropriate boundaries are needed, but we can't just abandon the field because we don't know what to do with these strange creatures.

I used to work with junior high schoolers (that's what it was way back when!) and found it to be both challenging and rewarding. I remember my own junior high school experience, how I longed for someone to invest their time and energy in me, to affirm that I was important and loved and really, just that I was okay despite my awkwardness at that age. I had good parents and am thankful for them, but I think at that age we are also looking for affirmation outside of the family environment. We want to know that we matter and that we will be loved and accepted even as we figure out who we are. It's not an easy task to work with children at this age. It takes a lot of grace and patience. For that reason I want to express my deepest appreciation for Joe and Cassie Mason, for Katie Redel, Amy Phillips and others who are investing in the life of my daughter and many other girls (and boys) her age, as well as for the Mike Olivers, Dan Sadlers, Sheryl Agnews and so many others who have given all or a portion of their lives and invested them in people like me at a time when we really needed it. You are all awesome!! I'm glad I could share a bit in your world today washing cars alongside these precious, weird girls.

Neither Jew nor Greek

Yesterday my 12-year-old daughter was filling out a survey while we were riding in the car. She piped up from the backseat, asking: "Mom, am I of Spanish background?" A couple seconds later she asked: "Am I white?" Hearing these questions my wife told our daughter that she was glad that she had to ask these questions because it was a sign that ethnic or racial background has little significance to her. The question of being black, white, Asian, Hispanic or anything else simply is irrelevant to our daughter.

There's a lot of talk these days about eliminating racism from society and overcoming ethnic differences. Yet the funny thing is that the solutions offered often seem to amplify racial or ethnic distinctions. Recently our local university announced that it was going to merge the six (6!) distinct minority student centers on campus as a cost-saving measure. The administration also defended the move by saying that it would be able to provide better service this way. The outcry was quite strong though, as each group argued that its members would be disenfranchised or disadvantaged in some way by this move. For them, overcoming racial divisions seems to require that each racial group keep to itself and have its own unique support group. It seems to me that a single center for students (minority or otherwise) would be better for promoting interaction and ethnic understanding, regardless of the cost savings.

I agree with my wife in saying that I'm glad my daughter doesn't pay attention to racial or ethnic labels. Maybe this is a result of having lived in three different cultures already in her life. I hope it is also a result of how we handle the subject in our own home. I would love to see the church become a place where the color of one's skin or the group in which one grew up had no significance concerning how each person was welcomed and valued. That's what the kingdom of God should look like. We had the privilege of attending a church that was moving in the right direction when we lived in Canada several years ago. The first time we entered the worship service we felt like we were the minority. Over time we saw that the community was a beautiful blend of Asians and Africans, Chinese and Koreans, whites and blacks and all sorts of others. That's one of the reasons I love this song from the Newsboys so much. The video in particular graphically depicts the unity we have in Christ.

I love Paul's admonition in Colossians 3:11: "Here there is Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all and is in all." (NIV) Again in Galatians 3:28-29 he states: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise." (NIV)

I am not arguing that when we come to Christ we cease to be what we were as men or women, Asian, African, American or other. Obviously these realities are not undone by entering God's kingdom. But they are superceded. They no longer have the significance that we once gave them. The distinctions we like to make as humans lose their meaning in the face of the promise we have in Jesus Christ. In him we are made one. We are all heirs of God's promise of salvation. That is all that really matters. So let's put aside issues of race and ethnicity and gender and embrace people for who they are: unique and precious children of the most high God. Some have not yet acknowledged that reality, it is true. But the reality is there if they choose to embrace it. As far as I am concerned, the other differences really don't matter and I am glad that they don't matter to my children. May the day come quickly when they don't matter in our churches either.

The Lost is Found

Dietrich received some money and some gift cards for his birthday a couple weeks ago. He’s been dying to spend them since then, but we hadn’t been able to make the time to go to the store. Yesterday, as we were wrapping up a 3-day trip to see friends in the Phoenix area, we found ourselves near a Toys R Us so we stopped in to let Dietrich do some shopping.

After making his selection of a cool Lego cargo plane, Dietrich asked his mother to give him his money pouch. He had handed it to her a couple days earlier when we were at a bookstore. But she didn’t have it. She was sure she had given it back to him and told him to put it in the pocket of his shorts. Beginning to panic, he searched through all his pockets without success. He and I then went out and searched in the car around his seat and in the suitcase where his clothes for the trip were stored. Still no luck. By this point he was quite distraught, understandably so because none of us likes to lose money. He was still able to purchase the Lego plane using gift cards, but the joy of the new toy was dampened by the lost money. I could totally sympathize with his frustration and loss, but I couldn’t do anything to make the lost money reappear.

Doing what we could, we called the people we had stayed with and asked them to look for the money pouch. We even called the bookstore we had visited. The lost money didn’t turn up either place. We drove home trying to console Dietrich while helping him understand that these painful lessons are part of life’s learning process. That’s not much comfort to a 10-year-old though.

This morning as I was praying, I asked the Father to help us find the lost money, even though it seemed highly unlikely that we would. I couldn't think of any place we hadn't already looked for it that it was likely to be. I admit that I prayed without expectation, but not entirely without hope. Later I went out to move the car. After parking it I reached down to pick up a couple CDs we had left in the car. To my surprise and great delight I noticed Dietrich's money pouch sitting next to the CDs in a little basket between the front seats. I immediately thanked God. I felt like the woman in the parable who rejoices when she finds her lost coin.

Today’s lesson was a helpful, gentle reminder from my loving heavenly Father that he cares about the details of my life. Scripture tells me that he watches over the sparrows and that he has the hairs on my head numbered (a job that becomes easier each passing year!) Dietrich’s lost birthday money matters to him because Dietrich matters to him. He concerns himself no less with the affairs of my life. I am thankful that we have a God who cares about us and involves himself in the details of our lives. As the line from an old song says: “His eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me.”

10 Years Old

Ten years ago today at 12:45AM our son Dietrich joined our family. I find it hard to believe that that baby is now 10 years old! Where do the years go? Dietrich is a wonderful addition to our family and it is impossible to imagine life without him. He is active and energetic, a keen learner with a sharp mind who loves to devour information and share it with you at every possible opportunity.

Being Dietrich's father is a great opportunity for growth. In some ways he is very much like me and in other ways we are quite different. He loves Lego and Star Wars (and the combination of the two) and this weekend we will be hosting a Star Wars birthday party for the young Jedi.

Dietrich is passionate about cars and motor vehicles of any sort. I on the other hand, care very little about them. If I had to repair my own car I could do it, but I would need assistance and would probably not enjoy it at all. Dietrich has yet to try his hand at car repair, but would probably find the whole process fascinating--though he might get frustrated when things didn't go right (which is where he's like me!) Dietrich would probably love to go to a monstor truck rally or a drag race, neither of which appeal to me at all. In this he is more typically male than I am. So the Unguy is having to stretch himself at times. At the same time I try to stretch him as well by engaging him in activities that don't immediately appeal to him. We do enjoy many activities together, like playing soccer, watching sports or racing each other on the GameCube. (This is not always a good thing since it brings out the competitive side in both of us!) Above all I am learning to be patient with him, as our personalities at times clash rather strongly and the sparks can fly.

I thank God that he enriched my life with both a son and a daughter. On this special day though I give particular thanks for the unique person that is Dietrich. He is a joy and a treasure.

Happy Birthday Dietrich!