“Inspect systems and predict failures before they happen.” 

“There are two kinds of habits.  Habits that support our goals and habits that don't.”

There’s something that’s been heavy on my mind lately.  Someone I know recently helped me pull a lot of ideas into these thoughts. 

When I first started having kids, I told myself that I couldn't wait for my toddlers to grow up and get to their teen years.  I thought life would be so much easier because I wouldn’t have to dress them, fix their food, clean their messes, or wipe their behinds!  I would get to leave behind all the things that exhaust the parent of a younger child.  I told myself that by the time they got to their teen years, I'd finally get to be "me" again and not be so physically worn out by parenting.

My oldest is now 14 and I’m starting to realize that my perspective of ‘father’ was wrong.  When my children were young and needed me to provide for all of their physical needs I was a father working "in" my family.  I had to be very hands-on fixing, cleaning, making meals, etc.  But now as my children have gotten older, I’m learning that I must be a father working "on" my family.  It's a huge difference.  I have to pull away from the busy day-to-day stuff and take a big picture perspective of what I want my family and my children to become.  I’m a father discovering that I need a vision, a mission, and a strategy. 

It is my responsibility to have a vision for my family and my children, something created and ‘seen’ in my mind.  It’s a long term view of how I ‘see’ my family and children when I look into the future.  It’s who my family has become when I’m old and gray and drawing my last breath.  It’s what I want others to think about when my family is seen or mentioned in public.  And this vision is actually created twice.  First I create this vision in my mind, and then this vision is created in reality. 

Creating this vision in reality becomes my mission.  For example, I have a picture of the kind of man I want my 14 year old son to be.  I’m not saying that I’m choosing his life for him.  I don’t care whether he’s married at a young age or an old age or is a doctor, fireman, or a truck driver like my grandfather.  What I’m saying is that I have a vision of his character.  I have a vision of his happiness and satisfaction with where God has put him in this life.  My mission for him then becomes the means by which I will help him become that man.  It’s finding out what his goals and dreams are and teaching him and coaching him towards becoming what he desires to be.  Whereas my vision is the final result of what I hope he becomes, my mission is the daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly steps that must be taken for him to become that man.  My mission is simply my big vision broken down into smaller and smaller visions. 

Finally I have to have a strategy.  I have to be able to answer the question, “how am I going to get him there.”  It’s not enough to just say that I’m going to coach him along the way.  As his father, I must figure out what has to happen on a daily, weekly, monthly and yearly basis for him to grow and become the man that God designed him to be.  I have to break down the different areas of his life into steps that he can take to lead him towards growth and maturity.  I have to implement these things every day in his life and be flexible enough to react when things have to change. 

Here’s the hard part.  With teenagers, I’m finding that you must not focus on the end result.  As a parent of a toddler, you are training them in a way that they will more quickly learn the lesson.  You teach them how to dress, how to eat, how to go to the bathroom, and how to obey.  But at some point as my children have gotten older, I’ve recognized that every action I take as a parent has to be put in the perspective of the vision I have for them.  Every day, my interactions with my son have to be handled with the “who I want him to become” vision in mind.  Every interaction has to be thought through under the context of “is this going to help him become that man or hurt him?”  As his parent, if I constantly measure him against the end result, all I will do is frustrate him and create resentment in his heart.  I must walk with him through the day-to-day ups and downs of life and be a teacher and coach.  I must not be a judge. 

So here is my challenge for you.  Have you thought about what your vision is for your children and your family?  How about a vision for your marriage?  Can you take that vision and define your mini-visions to create your mission?  And finally, what strategies are you going to use to live this out?

Blessings!

I don't know whether to laugh or cry about this. My wife and I can't go on a date without stopping at the grocery store or Target to pick up a few items we need before we head home. It's turned into a joke really... "Wait! We can't go home. We've not been to Walmart yet!"  I told her one time that the least we could do is pretend we're young and in love and visit the condom isle. She failed to see the humor.

This Saturday night we had to stop at Target. I was grabbing a pack of razors when I noticed a bottle of Old Spice aftershave. It made me think of my Grandfather. My Dad's dad. We called him 'Pop.'  Back in "the day" he was tough (like when you think about Johnny Cash tough.)  Pop put five kids through college driving an eighteen wheeler for 40 years. You could be lost just about anywhere in the country and Pop would be able to help you find your way home. He'd traveled all of the roads. Pop retired after 40 years without ever having an accident on company time. 

My memories of him are more of a gentle old man who did things like drive the church van to pick up the widowed ladies to get them to service. And of him sitting in his rocker in his den.  My family would travel to Memphis for Christmas and he'd be there rocking away watching all the grandkids running around.

One time when I was about 12 or 13, he called me over to him.  The memory of what he said has stayed with me for over 25 years.  "Curt," he said.  "Of all of my grandkids, you're the only boy with my last name.  I'm proud of you and want you to know that it's going to be up to you to keep our family name going." 

All this came flooding back to me as I stood on the razor isle in Target.  Pop used to always have a bottle of Old Spice in the guest bath in their house.  It's a smell that will always reminds me of him.  I picked up the bottle and took it home, and for days have thought about my memories of him and of my younger years.  I've gotten to know more about him after he passed away and have learned about a man who worked through his mistakes and finished his life strong.  He was given a new life in Christ and built that life on solid ground. 

And now I'm traveling behind him on this life's journey.  At time I find myself worn out.  Some days I feel all alone and lost.  But the memories of my grandfather flood my mind and remind me that someone who loved me traveled ahead and fought for me.  And he left behind his map.  He made sure I could find my way.  Thanks Pop.  I love you and miss you... I'm following you home...

“I am so afraid… that I’ll find myself alone… looking for a savior… looking for a home” – Bebo Norman.

As a kid, I loved super heroes.  I’d spend hours reading about Spiderman, Superman, Batman, Captain America, Thor, The Fantastic Four… I can’t even remember them all.  The stories of men defeating the evil in this world captivated my young heart.  Something inside me needed to believe in a hero whose strength and power was combined with righteousness and mercy.  I would read through the comic books of my heros and then sketch out my own stories or dress up as a super hero and act out my own dramas.   

And now, looking back through the distance of time into the years of my childhood, I find it amazing that even then, my heart longed for a savior.  Even then I had an unspoken desire for a man who would fight for me and defeat the evil that surrounded me.  I needed to believe that heroes existed and were as real as the rest of the people in my life.  I needed to believe that the story would end well. 

And don’t we all. 

Aren’t we all still looking for a savior?  Aren’t we all (if we’re truly honest) scared of finding out that at the end of this life that there’s nothing for us but darkness and emptiness?  We want there to be, we need there to be, something so much better then the mundane, painful, scary life that we face every day.  We long for goodness, and love, and for the defeat of evil.  We desperately want to know of a man who cares so much for us that he would come and find us and tell us of a place where there is no pain and no tears.  Our hearts cry out for a hero who will come and find us and hold us in his arms and carry us up, up and away to our new home.  We cry out to be saved from this world.  We cry out for salvation. 

Our world cries out for this superman.  Our world cries out for Jesus Christ who, as he began drifting up into the heavens, promised to one day return.  He promised to come back for us.  He promised that he would come back as my hero and defeat evil.  He promised to come back and make everything right.  He promised that I would be rescued and taken to His home where I have my own room for all of eternity.  He promised to wipe away my tears and to never let me hurt again. 

And as I wait for my Hero, He promises to always be with me.  He asks me to just believe in Him… to believe that all I desire in my heart is really true.  He asks that I model my life after Him, loving and serving others the way that He did.  And wants me to remember that one day, my Hero will return and carry me home. 

Four years ago, my wife talked me into going to NCHE, the yearly homeschool conference for our state, NC.  In the past, I had always resisted going.  To me, it was a "ladies" thing.  I was content to stay home with our children and let her go off and take care of the homeschooling details.  Little did I realize how much I was missing.

This year, like every year since I started going, I returned home with a passion in my heart for this thing we do called "homeschooling."  The speakers were fantasic, the time together was wonderful, seeing friends from across the state was heartwarming, and all the homeschool material at the conference is very helpful as we build "courses" for next year. 

One speaker in particular spoke volumes to me.  If you've never heard of Voddie Baucham, you need to click on the link www.voddiebaucham.org and check him out.  He was one of the best speakers I've ever heard.  Up at the Mark Hamby level.  He was an all American football player at Rice (??? I think) University who left his senior year when he felt God calling him into ministry.  I've wept more then once listening to his messages from his CD's.  Finally I'm hearing a pastor who gets it.  Voddie lays a strong Biblical foundation for God controlling your family size, the role of a father in raising children, family integrated churches, etc.  He argues that our modern church has drifted far, far away from God's intention and has taken on many values and ideals from our secular culture. 

Something changed in my heart hearing him speak.  I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm beaten down every day for the choices I make about my family.  I get hit by the culture I'm in, friends I have, my family, coworkers, and even pastors in my church.  Not many understand what we do.  It can be a lonely calling.  But Voddie's message was as if God was affirming in my heart that I'm on the right path.  As I listened to his messages, God's spirit was whispering to me... "Curt, everything is ok...."

And now I have a challenge that I'm going to pass along to those that might read this.  If you are a homeschooling father, you need to make a commitment to regularly meet with other homeschool dads.  If there is nothing put together for you in your area, reach out to guys you know and start something.  Meet for coffee, grab a doughnut, and spend a few minutes talking about similar struggles and successes.  You just don't know how other guys might be hurting or feeling alone with this life that we try and lead.  You just might be the one to help him as he struggles with this calling. 

"Do love me???... Feed my lambs..."

A good friend and coworker recently left our company after seven years.  His last day was Friday and we had grabbed lunch and packed up his office talking about our company and remembering successes we had together.  We both are Christians and over the years would talk about our faith.  I've always held a deep respect for him and was sorry to see him leave. 

The coolest thing I've ever seen him do happened as he was walking out the door for the last time.  I was walking with him to his car carrying his last box.  He had his briefcase in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.  Two year ago, our company had a sales competition and used baseball bats and stickers.  For every "win" you had in the marketplace, you got a sticker.  Sort of like football players and stickers they get for their helmets.  During that year, at the end of each quarter, a winner was announced and was given a prize.  At the end of the year, the top guy was awarded a five thousand dollar bonus.  My friend had a fantastic year and won the bonus hands down.  The company also gave him a baseball bat specially made at the Louisville Slugger factory and signed by our company president.  He was carrying this bat on the way out of the office.

As he and I were making our way out of the lobby to get to his car, the company receptionist blurted out, "Hey, cool, you've got your bat."  And then she absentmindedly said, "My son (who's like 11 or 12) needs a bat.  All his teammates have there own.  But do you know how expensive they are????"

Without even thinking, my friend handed his bat across her desk and told her to take it.  "Give it to your son."  They went back and forth a few times before she would take it, but eventually she said her thanks (her eyes were misting up) and we continued walking out to his car. 

I couldn't believe it.  He had just given away something he had worked really hard to get.  That bat symbolized a year of early mornings and late nights and I couldn't keep silent.

"What in the world did you do that for?  You just gave away your prize.  What are you thinking?"

He just turned to me with a goofy grin and said, "Curt, that bat has been collecting dust in my office for two years.  I don't need that bat.  Baseball bats belong out on grassy fields surrounded by the sounds and laughter of little boys.  Besides, if my savior could come to this world and give his life for mine, shouldn't I give an unused baseball bat to a little boy who's mom can't afford to buy him one?"

Of course he was right and I thought about it all afternoon after he left. 

What he did struck me powerfully and it took me a while to figure out why.  I realize now that it wasn't that he gave her his bat.  I think most of us would have made the same choice he did if we had the situation described to us.  What got to me was that his reaction was immediate.  He didn't think about it.  It was instinct.  Without thinking, he reached out and handed his gift away.

The events that afternoon taught me two things.  I saw a man who's faith in Christ wasn't just something he talked about believing.  He lived it out.  Modeling his faith had become his first reaction when dealing with other people.  I also witnessed a man who didn't hold on to "things."  A baseball bat propped up in an office collecting dust was something that someone else could use.  He gave it to them without pondering the consequences. 

That afternoon impacted me.  I think about how freely Christ gave up his life for mine.  It was a gift that he reached out and put in my arms.  All I had to do was receive it.  And now do I hold tightly onto that gift letting it collect dust in the corner?  Or do I spend my days looking for opportunities to give a baseball bat to a little boy who might never have a chance to own such a precious gift. 

I think I'll choose to share it.

A few months ago a neighbor gave our family a trampoline.  It’s become the neighborhood kid magnet.  And now our backyard can become very noisy at times, but I don’t mind really.  Back in my “pre-kid” years, the sounds of kids yelling or crying brought out a certain fear in me.  But I think once you have kids something changes in your brain.  God gives you this ability to just tune their hooping and hollering out.  Except for that “daddy, daddy, I’m really hurt!” cry of course.  I seem to hear that cry even with the lawnmower going. 

Anyway, I was telling you about the trampoline.  Something magical happened today.  After mowing the grass I came over and got on and started jumping.  And of course my two younger boys had to come out and make fun of how silly I looked.  And while we were joking back and forth, suddenly my wife appeared with a huge grin on her face.  She was going to get on. 

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” she laughed and started bouncing.  He legs were wobbly and she was trying to keep upright but the smile got bigger.  And as she jumped higher, she started to laugh.  And I don’t mean ‘laugh’ like heard a cute joke laugh.  Suddenly my 35 year old wife was laughing like a little kid.  I hadn’t heard that sound from her in longer then I can remember.  It was so beautiful that my heart began to hurt.  She and I were jumping and laughing together and it was like we had stepped back in time to a day when life was more childlike and innocent and fun. 

Why do couples get caught up with so many responsibilities and forget that they can have fun and laugh together?  She and I have been guilty of that.  But I remembered on the trampoline why I fell in love with my wife.  We were young and had fun and laughed together.  She was my best friend and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.  I wanted to open up my heart to her and give her every part of me.   Life has been hard and we’ve been struggling lately.  But I decided that I’m going to make sure that we remember that we can laugh together. 

I sat there on the trampoline looking at her.  She turned to me and she smiled.  And she laughed.  And my heart leapt and I fell in love with her all over again. 

Ok Marybeth, you won.  I'm blogging!  Now quit pestering me!  Just kidding.  For months now, I've read over my wife's shoulder as she's developed her cool webpage and have enjoyed the posts that come from her heart.  And yes, she's challenged me to create my own page.  So after weeks of procrastination, here I am.  Blogland USA. 

You might be wondering why someone would start a blog called "Love for the Prodigal" on a homeschooling website.  I thought a lot about what I wanted to call this page.  I wanted a phrase that in a nutshell captured who I am.  This just clicked.  And ok, Marybeth came up with the phrase, (she's so good at this sortof stuff!) but when she spoke it, I knew it was right.  I've struggled most of my life with the "rebel" in my heart.  Maybe for many of you, a commitment to obedience to God's Word comes easy.  I wish I could say that.  I've struggled for years with complete obedience and complete faith.  Turning to God with empty, outstretched, and open arms has been hard for me.  But events in my life recently has brought me to that place where I was eating with the pigs.  A decision had to be made.  Would I quit pretending to be a certain type of person and admit my unworthiness before God?  Would I let go of certain things in my life that God had been asking me to give up for years?  Would I bring my honesty and full confession and shame to Him? 

What I found was that when all of my human efforts were exhausted - when I couldn't go another day trying to "do" it on my own - I had to admit that as a man alone I'm a failure.  I had to pick myself up, turn towards my Father, and start my journey home. 

I am the prodigal.  Without my Father, I live an empty, dirty, hungry, thirsty, cold, scary life. 

But when I turned to Him with my broken heart, I found Him right behind me.  He left His flock and came looking for me.  Not only is He the father in the parable who every day scans the horizon for his lost son, but He is the Christ.  He's my savior who left home and traveled down the dirty road to the world that I had made for myself.  He came to find me.  And now as I begin my journey home, He walks with me and He talks with me.  I'm beginning to understand how much He loves me. 

I am the prodigal.  With my Father I am safe.