Should I grow a beard now?

I could not have known how much it would matter to me that I am a Grandfather. Here is my daughter Monica, a new mother herself, having a blast with her grandpa. (on the left) But isn't the title "grandpa" is for men with gray hair (oops, I've got some of that), goofy stories to tell (hmmm... I have plenty of those), and beards big enough so surprises can be hidden in them and found - it's kind of a "buried hairy" game for grand kids.

These were a just a few of the attributes my father embedded in my understanding of the grandfather role while he successfully kept a sort of mystique alive while enjoying and entertaining my two girls. The pictures of his several grand kids playing with his beard are particularly memorable. Who needs Play Station (what is it version 12 by now) when you have hair cascading from you face and neck!

I find myself wondering what kind of grandfather I will be, now that Rachael Elizabeth Stauffer has passed one month old and is headed straight for her pre-teens. I know the time will be precious and very enjoyable, but will also pass so quickly that I want to plan now so I will not be left struggling to grow a beard when it is too late.

I expect my job is to enjoy this little girl more than to impress or impart, but it is impossible for me to avoid thoughts of my part in a living legacy - now in its next edition. I can't wait for my knee to become tired from the bouncing, my eye's to be bloodshot from staring in amazement, my hands to be numb from applauding her successes. I know she will one day realize how blessed she is, in stead of burdened, to have Monica and Matt to love and support her, and that the Stauffer family doesn't play in the minor leagues when they pitch their love.

One day she'll 'get' how much she is loved. But right now I just hope one day to 'get' the words out. I only hope I can speak when she stands before me, cute as her mother did many years ago and I know very well I will have to focus my attention hard just to release her from my arms the first time she runs to jump into them. Somehow I miss it already and it has not yet happened. I guess I just can't wait to know this, my little girl's little girl!

Today I just wonder if the what, when, and how's of my love will be received in any way comparable to what I feel for her, her mother and her dad. I am starting a list of "stories to make sure to tell the grand kid(s)." These will be our little (or big) secrets and should prove very fun around the holidays as we remember the lives lived prior.

I'm not throwing away my razor yet, but I will be practicing my dad's silly magic thumb trick so the Elvy legacy will breathe on.

It's good the be a grandpa, even when. right now, I'm mostly looking forward!

Does "random" ever hit the target?

It matters that we wish to express the love of God to our fellow mankind, but I wonder sometimes about the way we've chosen to deploy that expression.

What is the target, and what is the effect of “Random acts of kindness?” They, by themselves, do not demonstrate the relationship God wants to have with the ‘happenstance' person who receives the kind act. The kindness is received more like a sunny day, or cool breeze – something that was “chance,” but welcome. God provides the sun and wind every day but churches are not filled because of them.

Unless I share that I am compelled by God to reach out, there is not even the slightest scent of a relational love in the air. By identifying the one (Jesus) who compels me to reach out in kindness, the recipient can, at least, recognize relationships with Jesus do exist – albeit in another person. I have seen many of these acts of kindness take place in a matter of seconds at intersections and at the entrances to sporting events, but I wonder how much 'relational smell for God' is generated. I wouldn't mind stinking it up for God if I thought it worked.

While the "random act" has seemed to be deployed less and less in many church ministries, I wonder what the intended target really was in the first place. If the result (the recipients smile and appreciation) is suppose to somehow to run parallel to the story of the Good Samaritan who helped a person in need, then I think we need to re-focus our aim a bit. The one beaten by the side of the road was abandoned and in great need. We are to rush to the outcast and pain-filled with our bottles of water, not the one about to spend $4.00 on a soda or $6.00 for a beer.

While folks walking to a ball game may indeed be thirsty, they are not in great need at that time, and are very unlikely to see the kindness of a water bottle as life nurturing. I am not saying that a cup of cold water is not exactly the needed, even life saving, thing required in another situation, but I can't help but see some random kindness efforts are un-tailored suits suppose to fit everyone. Is it an act of kindness at all when we do not recognize that each person has specific needs?

I don't know that this type of outreach is anything more than advertising and getting a church logo into the hands of the general public. Admittedly, I have never had the personal experience of my water bottle 'kindness act' opening up a conversation in which the recipient could get a glance at the genuine love that I wish to convey - maybe I'd have a different response if even one person did. Maybe the odds were just not in my favor. But impacting a person personally is what God does, and I think we should look for ways to do that too - even if the total numbers are initially smaller I believe a greater impact would ultimately be realized.

So I will target my efforts on the individual when, unlike the morning "Hello, how are you?" does not really allow or intend for the question to be answered, I know there is time to encourage them with a quick word of hope. I don't need more than a few seconds, but I think it is a kinder act when my action is not random but personalized.

All this brought to mind by my recent 'encouragement encounter' with a Bigg's Supermarket cashier.

RETREAT!!!

If you want to win the spiritual war, it matters that you can sometimes yell "RETREAT!" This is not to suggest turning tail and running away, but the kind of retreat that draws people who are learning the bible away for a weekend of teaching and reflection. Just such a weekend ended yesterday and I was honored to be a part of the "Jesus Retreat" that was the God inspired design of my friend Allen.

18 high school students arrived at our church only an hour after they had been released from school last Friday. Trading their weekend relaxation to learn about Jesus, and how He is present throughout the entire bible, is a miracle in itself. But God did not stop there. There were 8 bible study classes, 3 topical discussions, 6 worship times, with only 1 whole hour of break time - they were usually only 10 minutes. Based on the compressed and intense schedule, it could have been called "Boot camp for Jesus." I was amazed by the questions and energy level of the students who, while admittedly were getting information overload, demonstrated that they knew this was a chance of lifetime.

Seminary graduates and ministry leaders were on hand to help fulfill Al's vision that we explore every book of the bible to see where Jesus is revealed directly or His character is directly explained. The quality of information was matched only by the earnestness of the heart's who presented it. Imagine finding the energy, driven by your passion to really "get it," that allows you to focus on God from 4:pm till midnight on Friday, 8:00am till midnight on Saturday, and have worship for an hour on Sunday before going to your regular church services with your family. The place was many times thick with the spirit of God.

I think every person should have the opportunity to attend such a weekend so that minds can be opened to really see the flow of scripture. The historical accuracy and the many traps that people get into when wrestling with God before becoming a believer were also repeatedly explored.

I hope you seek out the opportunity to yell "retreat" so you have a chance at winning the spiritual battle that goes on inside each of us.

There's a Bear! Where? Over There!

It matters that dog lovers have dogs in their lives. "Bear" (pictured) is here two years after Tasha died. I think it really took us that long for hole in our hearts to be open to the shape of a new canine friend. Tasha memories are still pretty fresh but we are ready to make new ones.

Bear is about 60 lbs of focused energy and attention. I've never met a dog that looks so long and hard at you so as to really learn what is going on. This is not to say once he learns what we want it agrees with his desires, but we are working ourselves toward the Alpha role in his life. We know it takes time - especially for dogs who are thinking it all over.

He really does want to please us (most of the time) and is learning how to do exactly that. It is so great to have a wagging tail, wet nose, and perked up ears around the house again. He is a lot to contend with because of his size so we must soon win absolute Alpha status soon so no one gets hurt being dragged behind a leash.

His name will remain "Bear" as a reflection of his size, but not his attitude.

Sadly, we had to give Bear back to his previous owners because my allergies would not relent even after two weeks of and adjustment time. While this disappointment was real, it was lessened by the joy we saw at his reunion with his previous owner - who really did not want to give him up and is now finding a creative way to be able to keep him after all.

A happy ending? For Bear, yes. But we are resolved to find a pet that fits without giving me sneezing fits. We think we can wait till the spring, but we have been bit (in a good way) with the hunger to invite a four legged friend to live with us again. I guess we are on the same hypoallergenic search that our new president is on. A pet I can freely pet is would be nice.

Remember when travel was a great adventure?

What matters most when I travel is that I learn not resent the waiting. I remember how much fun it could be, playing in the back of the station wagon on trips to visit relatives. But over the years traveling has morphed into an intolerable delay that needs to be filled with electronic distractions or productivity.

Waiting as the wheels on the car turn around each and every mile. I can easily dread the 880 revolutions it takes each tire to take me one mile, and click of the airport or hospital room clock. My focus shifts away from living in the moments of life, and resorts to just noticing lifeless moments themselves. So how do I truly live while in the waiting moments of life?

I think life is most truly and deeply lived when we love.

Recently, even from Cincinnati to Indianapolis (and back), I looked past the first glance of boring terrain for something I could love. It became easy after a few minutes. The subtle majesty of the nature, the careful planning that designed and built the highways, the rhythm of the roadway under my car, the unknown stories about hopes and barns being raised in fields of dreams, and certainly my own desire to reach my destination. But how is it possible to love during the waiting?

Loving is only possible for me if I can see the person(s) behind the places and things. I focus on the God who made the trees, the ones who planned the roadway drainage, the ones who in hope are building their lives each day. Soon the appreciation wells up into love for others, and long cold seconds of relentless tire turnings melt unnoticeable into a warmth that gives flight to time. Sure I am left imagining most of the stories, but when I stop for gas and speak with the clerk, the reality of the little encounter births appreciation and fresh joy in the journey.

I will soon be driving more and more miles on a, soon to be familiar, stretch of otherwise boring roadway. I hope to remain intentional about finding and remembering those whom I meet along the way. Life can still be an adventure.

Rates that affect other Rates

It matters that the inflation rate, the rate at which companies fail, and the rate at which consumer confidence grows are all restored, because it affects other rates....

Everyone seems to have a "take" on the current financial issues in America and is able to talk about it to some degree - weighing in on what should be done and how soon. But I don't think just talking it out of our systems is going to do it for many of us. When I listen to some of those around me I hear the rate at which they talk increase. Driven by panic and fear, or just passion for a solution, the rate at which we are talking about this has increased. Let's keep an ear to the ground for those who need a place to vent, and maybe offer an eternal perspective on the trials of this life.

Additionally there is another sound I hear as I stand and try to keep up with the many ideas erupting. Our heart rates are increasing. Unlike getting worked up on a treadmill, I see and hear bodies stressing from worry with no "off" switch within their grasp, and the knowledge they are tethered to a machine they cannot escape. Some broke a sweat early when the wheels of this financial crisis began turning public, and others are still catching up to the fact they will need to pick up the pace to keep from being dragged along. Let's keep an eye on one another as this workout continues to test our strength and stamina.

The most alarming rate that could be affected is the suicide rate. I am praying for a weary and scared gentlemen I recently met who is in many ways "on the edge." I have done my part to make a referral to the only person I could that could help him, but I am beginning to allow thoughts of people taking final desperate acts to enter my mind. It is scary to realize many do not have family to move in with, if the bottom of the fragile economy cracks under them. I recently spoke with someone I highly respect about those who have let family relationships melt down. Pride is such a dominate thread in the fabric of the relationships we weave with our families. Some have struggled to push away (originally just far enough to define themselves) but find themselves more alone than they ever wanted to be. Not having anyone that you can go through life with, is a key ingredient in the recipe for personal disaster. Let's keep close to those around us, and break down any walls that keep the light of love from shining in on each other.

When times get tough, we need each other.

Dave

"Speak," fido," speak!"

It matters that I learn how to speak up at work. There are a variety of situations in which I can find myself suddenly, or over time, trying to cover or excuse by not speaking up about them. I have found that my instincts and first responses are not always the best ones. By not barking when the workload becomes overwhelming, I recently found myself being one sled dog dragging an ever increasing load through the snow. Thinking I should just keep sweating it out up the hills, and running ahead down the slopes, my thoughts flipped between "I'm such a good dog, look what I can do," to "faster, faster, so I don't get plowed over!"

Barking is not just for growling, snarling, angry worker dogs, it can be the sweet sound from well mannered and loyal friends. A sound that healthy owner-employers know keeps them out of graver danger.

Instead of tuning up my voice each morning with "mi, mi, mi, mi, mi...," I think it is time I rehearse a bark that I can live with. One that is loud enough to protect the boss (and me), but not scare myself into believing I am a "junkyard employee."

So, speak up Dave, speak!