Busting Writer's Block

I have been dealing with the worst case of writer's block in recent memory. Usually, what helps me bust past it is to write whatever is on my mind. Unfortunately, writing-but-not-publishing isn't doing the trick. If you're really wanting to know what's been on my mind, keep reading.

I don't recognize myself anymore. I don't know if it's the medications for my DDD and FMS, but I'm really starting to wonder how much of the stuff you can take before it really starts to mess with not just with your thoughts but your identity. Then again, I usually go this way when I'm under stress. Yeah, and I'm stressed right now.

This month marks the second anniversary of me being laid off from my job. I guess you could say that it's been a rough couple of years, but amazingly, we're mostly okay. No one has been really sick, at least apart from me and my chronic condition. We still have a roof over our heads, a car that's insured and food in the pantry. It hasn't been easy, but I've learned so very much in a short time. By the way, those reports about government bureaucracy being incredibly inept, even in the computer age...they're true. My wife is incredibly organized--she would disagree--and her determination to document everything is paying off, not for the first time, and we're able to tell the government's left hand what the right hand has been doing. More amazing is that we need to tell the left hand what the left hand did five minutes ago. Oh, the stories I could tell!

My thoughts dwell a lot on my wife lately. She carries a lot. First of all, she's a mom of three homeschooling children. Second, she's a wife, nurse and cook to me. She also helps me with our ministry, our two groups we help lead and manages all the accounts. Perhaps the most frustrating is that I find myself increasingly required to depend on her. She mowed the lawn this week when we couldn't find someone to help out. I hated that. God, how I hated that. Yet I'm powerless to get out there and do it myself because of my condition. I think that's a lot of where my frustration lies. I can't care for the house like I used to. I was the mower, trimmer, painter, maintainer and gardener. I have had to surrender these things and it is excruciating. No, I mean it. That's the right word. Lay me down on a cross, folks. It would be as painful as what this whole thing has done to me. I'm not going to douse myself in self-pity here, but I have to be honest too. I hate the fact that I can't do the things that I was needed to do. I used to be needed and respected for what I did and now I miss it. Perhaps that's the most painful part, at least psychologically, of a disability.

You hear of stories like firemen being closet arsonists (ref: Backdraft). It's an odd paradox, the need to be needed. I'm not going around poking holes in the roof or flicking the lights hoping one will burn out, but seeing needs and not being able to meet them is torturous. Now I in turn need someone else to do what I can't. It begs the question, "What's left for me to do?"

I can be a great father to my children. I can't run a pass play or even walk to the park without some help, but I can be there for them. Maybe that's all they really need. God, I hope so. It's so troubling to know that you can't give your kids what you would like.

I can be a great husband. Yet, I'm not as good as I could possibly be. You'd be surprised how little you can see of someone and yet still be in the same house. I want to get better at this. I want to be near her more, yet we don't have the structure to facilitate that and when she's schooling, I feel quite like the fifth-wheel. I can get involved, and I have been, but I have trouble teaching in tandem. Besides, I know that she does better when I don't chase bunny trails...every other sentence.

I can be a great Steve Walden. What's that look like? I'm not sure. It has something to do with my Maker and His instructions for life. ... Stay tuned.

Remember 9/11

This video is not for the faint of heart, but it is worth remembering those who died six years ago today and why we're in Iraq, Afghanistan and other countries, fighting to protect our lives and freedom.

On a side note, if you think Bush imagineered 9/11, you're nuts.

Worth It

Yesterday was a good day. I am exhausted! People say it, but I mean it. I would like to lie down and not get up until oh, say Tuesday. You would be tired too, if you went where I did.

For a few years now, one of my secret prayers has been that I would get to take my son to his first Broncos game. Thanks to a friend's generosity, yesterday was the day. Woo-hoo!

I was careful to keep it a secret until we were within sight of Mile High Stadium*. When I pointed it out to him, he bounced with such excitement, I thought he'd get hurt before we even left the van. My dad tried to drop us off, but since the stadium is new, so are most of the roads in and he had to dump us far from the stadium gates. I made it, pausing every few hundred yards, with Bubba being as patient as ever.

We entered the stadium, one that was christened with a Monday night game on September 10th, 2001, so it seemed oddly fitting that we would be checked for contraband (knives, guns, explosives, anything bearing a Raiders logo) as we came in.

I hadn't yet recovered from crossing the lots when we soon realized that our section was nearly opposite the gate we came in. More walking around the concourse made me feel like collapsing. I just made it to the escalators where I thought I could rest, but the thing was moving too fast and was too sticky for me to lean against the black handrest for a break. I was the only one taking a break between escalator rides. That's pretty pathetic.

We reached the top, and after more resting and a fantastic view of the mountain sunset, we went over to the vendors for some refreshing drinks and dogs. After meeting with the loan agent, it was decided that yes, we could eat and we took our soggy dogs and drinks to our section. More resting. Climb the steps to our row. Gotta rest midway. "No, I'm fine thanks" seems to be all I can get out between breaths. Did I mention we were at Mile High? And we were in the nosebleed seats! I'm not going to say that they were high up, but there was a rumor that the objects circling below us were some eagles hoping for a thermal and a poor soul suffering from hypoxia. On the other hand, I will say that I appreciate the cabin crew of the United jet not opening their landing gear until after they cleared my row. Such little things count in my book.

We watched the Broncos duke it out with (and beat) the Arizona Cardinals for a game that technically didn't mean anything. I say technically, because to my son and me, it meant a whole lot. It was my first time in the new stadium, but it was more special than that. You see, my son and I were able to sit and watch and talk about everything. I told him how glad I was to be there at the game with him and that it couldn't get any better than that. I shared with him my heart in small moments, saying that there's nothing that he could do that would make me more proud of him and that I love him more than I could possibly express. I know we created a memory, one that I hope lasts a lifetime. I'm exhausted, but it couldn't be for a better reason.

Next time though, Lord, could we get first level seats?


* They aren't paying me to call it Invesco Field at Mile High

Know Fission

I have conquered yet another challenge in homeschooling; I have explained fusion to an 8 year old. I know, it sounds a little weird but he started asking me about atoms. By the way, why do these topics come up right at bedtime? Anyway, getting to explain what atoms are, how they function and what needs to happen to produce fusion or fission was something I really enjoy. Let me correct that: I love seeing the "ah-ha!" look cross my children's faces. They realize something new and fascinating! It makes sitting in Mr. Palmer's physics class almost worth it...almost.

Seriously, there's no amount of entertainment that you can put into a classroom presentation that equates out to those times. Your child now understands something and asks intelligent questions about it. Isn't that what homeschooling is about?

Crime and Punishment

Being a father, my heart goes out to Mark Lunsford. I can't imagine how he keeps going. My prayers are with him and his family.

The death sentence, if carried out, would be as much justice as possible for Couey. I contemplate the horrific death of Jessica Lunsford and I can't imagine a punishment harsh enough her murderer. Yet, some part of me knows that while I haven't committed any crime like Couey, I would be just as sinful in God's sight. I have broken God's law and if you break part of it, you have broken all of it. I know that Couey is still a human being and that he has his own story of pain. We may want to believe that mankind is good, that man will grow beyond this state, but when you consider that acts like these have been recorded for millennia, is it possible that man could ever change without God? I don't think so. God needs to restore all things before we can ever hope to emerge from this nightmare.

Motives And Strings

In going through my hard drive, I found an old e-mail from 10 years ago last month. I had written it to my daughter, who was then only a year old. It speaks to me more today than it ever did then.

Date: Sat, 26 Jul 1997 12:53:50 -0600
Subject: Motives

Dear Daughter,

There are things you realize when you "come of age." You'll realize, that adults don't have it all together, at least not all the time.

I'm finding out that you can do the right things even with the right spirit but still have the wrong motives most of the time. Sarah, most christians can battle desperately with sin and no one will have a clue until they reach some sort of crisis.

Back in the late 80s, the american press thrived on scandal. So when a prominent Christian leader named Jimmy Swaggart admitted to having a fling with a prostitute and repented before his congregation, they pounced on it. The scene of a man in authority blubbering and sobbing behind the pulpit for 30 seconds fascinated America or at least it's press. He had reached a crisis. He knew that a person in his position doing what he did was going to hurt someone eventually. And when he knew it couldn't go any farther, he came out and was judged. That coupled with a few more scandals crippled the church from making a very important statement on morality at a very crucial time.

So I, along with every other Christian including you, struggle with sin. Sometimes some struggle more intensely than others. We must always approach others with mercy and grace when we see them struggling. What are we doing anyway without the love of God in our hearts and on our lips?

What I am struggling with now is a bit more fundamental. It's a crisis of motives. As I have taken a sabatical from the ministry, I'm finding I am less resistant to sin. I don't put up as much of a fight as I used to. I was avoiding sin and doing the right things because I was in authority and leading others. The Swaggart scandal scarred my mind and heart. I didn't want the same scandal to affect the ministry God was doing through me. It was a good motive but not the best.

It wasn't the best motive because when the ministry ended or paused, the reason to keep from sinning also was lessend or reduced. I have motives for avoiding sin now, but not nearly as strong as before. It's because I didn't invest in the right motives while I was leading that has brought me to this crisis. So what are the right motives and how do I recover?

Right motives have certain qualities about them. They are pure, unmixed and serve a larger purpose. The best ones are also timeless. It can't be fixed to something in this life because life changes. The certainty in life is that it will change. Therefore, if my motives are fixed to something as limited as a position or season in my life, the motive, although good, will still crumble and fall when the reason for it being there ends. So the best motive is timeless. It is tied to the eternal. What is eternal? God is obviously eternal and His characteristics are eternal, such as holiness and love. So if we do right things out of love for God, out of desire for His holiness in our lives, we have the best motive. It will not crumble and fall.

It's like the man who built his house on the sand. When the wind and rain came and removed the sand, the house fell down flat, putting the builder in a crisis. But if you anchor your house to bedrock, something that's not going anywhere for a long time, chances are your house will not go anywhere either.

My dear daughter, invest yourself in what is eternal on a daily basis. Let your motives be tied to God and His love for you and all of us. That will keep you motivated, because everytime you pray, everytime you sing a praise song to him, the source of your motivation becomes clear and strong.

Have you tried guitar yet? I have yet to learn it, although I want to. When you see a guitar string, you see that it is tied at both ends to something. When you touch that string, it reverberates into the very heart of the guitar. When something touches your motives, it should reverberate into the very heart of God.

I love you very much.

Your Daddy.

PS. Right now you are finding noses and eyes and learning who everyone is and what the difference between daddy's nose and your nose is. I'll ask you where's daddy's eyes and then I'd better watch out because I've got a poke in the eye coming. I can't wait until I ask you where Jesus is and you point to your heart. Uh-oh (one of your favorite words right now). You're waking up from your nap...

Recently, we hosted a wonderful guest named Rosie Boom, who blessed us with a private concert at home. God used her to minister greatly to us. There is something wonderful about having an instrument in your home that can't be duplicated or recorded. It reverberates with us and connects with us. She let God use her ministry on just a single family. It was nearly too rich a gift to receive. I'll close with a lyric she sang us,

Don't you fret now, child
Don't you worry
The rain's to help you grow
So don't you hurry the storm along
The hard times make you strong.

Bullet-Proof Backpacks

A friend pointed out this post from Parent Dish with an embedded video advertising bullet-proof backpacks (see * below). She wanted to know what I thought of it. I'm trying to figure out if there's a homeschool equivalent to such a thing as a bullet-proof backpack. I guess that bullet-proof denim jumpers just aren't in as high demand.

It's a sad state of affairs when parents are apparently buying these backpacks with the hope of preserving their kid's life. In all honesty, I think they've got it backwards. When a child is actually putting their life on the line to receive a below-average education, something is horribly wrong. Bullet-proof backpacks are like putting a Band-Aid on a tumor, but it fits right in with parents who would rather spend some money--$175 in this case--on a quick fix instead of making the investment of educating their children by means outside of the school system. Maybe the thought never occurs to them that all these homeschooling families might be onto something. Maybe if the homeschoolers can make it work, they can too. Maybe? You betcha.

* About the video itself:

• Having grown up near Littleton, I did not appreciate the use of stills from Columbine High School shootings to sell a product. Using tragedy to sell products (WTC coin, anyone?) is not new, but that doesn't mean it's good taste or even moral to do so
• I feel that the whole presentation is just a little too grisly. It takes a particularly bad turn when the guy starts hacking at the shield with a machete and a hatchet. It doesn't exactly smell like sharp pencils and apples for the teacher.
• Parent Dish also points out that Neil Young's Ohio is used, perhaps illegally, as a narrative to the images selling the backpacks. The Kent State shootings in 1970 were by Ohio National Guardsmen under entirely different (but still tragic) circumstances. Why are they using that song? I am left to wonder what they might be implying
  

I could go on, but it's nearly 4 a.m. and I need some sleep. Did I mention we got an espresso maker?

Repentance and Daily Joy

Ten years ago this October, I was part of a national gathering of men on the Mall in Washington DC called Stand In the Gap. As an employee of Promise Keepers, I worked stuffed away in a tent, yet my prayer was that God would hear our cry of repentance and heal our land. The next day, as I was crossing the steps of the Capitol, I believe I received His promise that he would.

There have been other moves for repentance and revival. I believe that when The Call held an event in Nashville on 7/7/07, it was another step in that direction. Watch as a former abortionist repents of her sins.



It is of great comfort to me that we cannot sin so badly that God is not willing to redeem us. His grace increases. If you need God, if you want forgiveness for what you've done, visit this site for more information about how you can receive that forgiveness and have a new, clean and fresh start. All of world history comes down to one man: Jesus Christ. If you don't know Him, you're missing the biggest part of life and your future has no hope. He is the only way, truth and life. Seek Him!

God wants all of us to repent, to seek reconciliation with Him so that we can share in His joy and happiness forever. There is nothing so bad, even killing innocent babies, that He can't forgive once we turn and acknowledge the wrong that we've done. Follow Him!

Know that in Him is your life, your hope and your future. He will be there in the shadow-times, when everything is dark and removed. He will be there as you seek and lean into him. As His son, I know these things to be true. He is right. He won't abandon you or leave you to rot somewhere. No, He loves you like He loves me. He picks you up and and holds you close to His chest and receives you, filling your heart with love where there was once pain, joy where there should be sorrow, and laughter that breaks the well of tears. Jesus is my one, true and only Savior, the one I trust most. Seek Him while He can be found and turn from sin daily. Grab hold of Him with both hands and don't let go! Be His child, and you'll never be alone again.

Do I love Him? With all my heart! He's the reason I can keep going despite my pain and weakness. He gives me joy and hope to walk free of pain one day, in this life or the next. We will make it together. He has promised me that. Hold true to Him, and you'll make it too.

It's About Time And Love

As an (amature) historian, I drive down streets or highways wondering how many have gone there before me and who they were. I notice changes and realize that buildings that looked to last for a century were gone in a decade or two. Mountain towns that boasted thousands of residents, mostly miners, now are nothing but a few ruts and meadow for elk to wander through. Psalm 103 brings home the impermanence of life.

As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;

for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.

As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;

the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.

But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD's love is with those who fear him,
and his righteousness with their children's children-

with those who keep his covenant
and remember to obey his precepts.

The LORD has established his throne in heaven,
and his kingdom rules over all.

The transient nature of our lives was keenly felt as I went by my old neighborhood today. I was amazed at how much had changed. I had been back before because I still have family nearby. Still, the community has changed so much. I pointed out the changes time and again to my wife, only to realize that she and I were the only ones in the car to really know what we were talking about. Every one of our kids had only vague notions and shadowy recollections, if anything. My dad and mom used to do the same thing when we would drive through downtown. One year, my folks decided to track down the old family cigar store that my father remembered visiting as a kid. In a strange twist, we found that the site of the store was marked with nothing more than a phone booth! On a slightly happier note, a year ago at Christmas, my father received a gift from my brother-in-law: a photograph of the store from the 1920s purchased after a chance discovery.

Back as a kid, I thought my parents were nuts. Why go around chasing down phantom stores and old places like that? Somewhere between driving by the hospital where I was born and the discovery that a third mall had been knocked down for "redevelopment," I had the realization that it wasn't so much about places and buildings as it was about people. The old movie theater was the place I would go to see movies with my dad. The park with the huge trees you remember as saplings was host to a summer picnic with dear friends long since moved out-of-state. Reminiscing and visiting these places is not so much about the details of what went where but about who we were with.

My eight year-old son, who couldn't have been much more than two years old at the time, recalled from the outside of his grandparents' former home that there was a picture of Jesus over the fireplace and that the kitchen was off to the right. This tells me more about my son than the fact that he has a good memory. It tells me that he remembers his grandparents and time spent with them, even if it was only having snacks and watching VeggieTales. It was about love. It was about time.

And someday, my grandson is going to think my son is nuts too. At least, he will if I can help it.

Big Families, Big Love

An update on 17 Homeschoolers: They had their baby, Jennifer Danielle. I wish them hearty congratulations! I believe that no matter how many you have, you love each one as a unique and beautiful creation.

This sentiment runs contrary to the self-destructive impulse of most middle-class families to only have one or two children. I see how large some houses are and I wonder how three or four people can occupy so much space. Yet that seems to be the goal of American society: Big house, small family. The drive to have a higher standard of living is propelling families to dizzying heights, but why? Europe is dying of this syndrome. Must we die too? Families like the Duggars in Arkansas lead me to believe that there's hope. I know several large families and each of them are healthy, loving and strong. They have a terrific emphasis on parenting, teamwork and love. They are not incredibly rich but neither are they poor in any sense of the word. I am enriched every time we have them over. More than ever, the words of Psalm 127 ring true.

Unless the LORD builds the house,
its builders labor in vain.
Unless the LORD watches over the city,
the watchmen stand guard in vain.

In vain you rise early
and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
for he grants sleep to [a] those he loves.

Sons are a heritage from the LORD,
children a reward from him.

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
are sons born in one's youth.

Blessed is the man
whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
when they contend with their enemies in the gate.