July Review

I committed to reporting out on my progress for 3 stated goals this year on a monthly basis on the blog. Below I've got July's journey reported out. It was a good month in many ways.

Goal 1: Read 25 books.

I read three this month, placing me well ahead of pace at 16. The Chronicles of Narnia continue to delight, and Pride and Prejudice was a pleasant surprise. 

Goal 2: Write 75 blog posts.

This is #8 for the month, #47 for the year. I'm doing well here, on pace for approximately 80. This month saw the majority of my "Notes From Camp" series, a favorite of mine to write each year.

Goal 3: Write 25 letters.

This has been the one that I have struggled the most to keep up with, though I wrote 3 this month. That puts my total at 12: still behind pace, but I'm on the comeback trail.

It's been a great month for playing, both as a family and as an individual. We leave for a little vacation to Duluth this week to cap off the month's adventures. Any month I can successfully work on the above goals while still leaving time for RAGBRAI, family vacation, grilling, canoeing, etc. is a good month. 

Quotes to note for the month:

• "Christian giving is to be marked by self-sacrifice and self-forgetfulness, not by self-congratulation." - John Stott
• "The human spirit will not even begin to try to surrender self-will as long as all seems to be well with it. Now error and sin both have this property, that the deeper they are the less their victim suspects their existence; they are masked evil. Pain is unmasked, unmistakable evil; every man knows that something is wrong when he is being hurt." - C.S. Lewis
• "When we drill a Bible story down into a moral lesson, we make it about us. But the Bible isn't mainly about us, and what we are supposed to be doing - it's about God, and what he has done." - Sally Lloyd Jones

Summer marches on. Work hard, play hard, and keep your priorities firmly in mind.

On Happiness

Time Magazine ran a "Pursuit of Happiness" issue recently, from which I found a couple of noteworthy articles. In one of them, the author portrays in an infographic (see here) what researchers have found typically helps and hurts in our attempts to obtain that elusive goal. Some notes . . .

The top helpers for happiness:

• Helping others through service, acts of kindness, volunteering, etc. Despite this fact, the number of Americans volunteering is on the decline in America.
• Worshiping at religious services.
• Working out.
• Money can lead to happiness if well-used. The more that money is used to purchase experiences - vacations, outings, etc - rather than material items, the more happiness that can be found. Also, a higher predictor than actual income is one's level of debt (or in this case, lack thereof)
• marriage

The top obstacles:

• A lack of face-to-face interaction. The article specifically makes reference to the fact that most complain of being stressed out when they are "unplugged"; however, that often prevents one from activities that produce social opportunities.
•  Heavy TV viewing.
• Unhealthy diets
• Long commutes
• Shopping: if done too often, one becomes immune to the "new-stuff buzz," and it can lead to debt.
• Poor sleep habits. 

My own reflections:

• Nutty Bars and Snickers make me happy, but only if I work out twice as much to counteract their health detriments.
• I have never felt "happy" after long hours in front of a TV. I foolishly just can't peel myself away sometimes.
• Playing games with people always feels better than watching games alone.
• Every dollar I've spent on trips has been worth it. I don't remember ever regretting not buying something.
• Thank God for my wife.
• Worshiping and service prove themselves worthy of my time over and over again. Why are they the hardest to commit to?
• I believe at times most people, including myself, know exactly what will and won't make them happy, yet they struggle to make choices accordingly anyway because it seems too hard.
• My biggest obstacle to happiness: focusing too much on my own happiness.

A Summer Feast

Last night we ate well at our house, taking advantage of much of what is great about summer: chicken hot off our grill, green beans and kale fresh-picked from our backyard garden, strawberries, and wild rice.

Our after dinner entertainment was provided by the Dykstra Girls Sidewalk Chalk Gallery, and I later topped off the feast with some Buster Bar ice cream dessert.

I attempted to verbalize the goodness, praising in What About Bob-like guttural moans all that summer had provided our table; but I failed to come up with adequate words. This morning I found them, tucked away in a centuries old Psalm:

He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,

And vegetation for the service of man,

That he may bring forth food from the earth,

And wine that makes glad the heart of man,

Oil to make his face shine,

And bread which strengthens man's heart. . .

O LORD, how manifold are Your works! (Psalm 104: 14-15, 24)

Summer feasting is the best kind. But it's goodness has a source. For every juicy burger, glass of wine around a fire, hot peach cobbler, ice cream treat, or garden-picking, let the Source of all that is good be magnified.

How manifold indeed.

Regarding One of My Own

One of my people - coaches, not the Dutch, in this case - has been criticized in the media recently. The issue in this instance was pitch count for a baseball player (to see the actual article in the Des Moines Register, click here). To be fair, this coach is a friend. And I am a coach. I am quite biased. I'm going to go ahead and write what I think anyway. Take it for what it's worth.

What I immediately notice from this article, this issue, and many other articles like it from the last couple of months and years about people I don't know is that the first instinct of most people is to doubt. Our gut reaction is to believe the worst in our coaches, not the best. The immediate assumption in any perceived "gray area" is that a coach made the wrong decision with wrong motives. Or that he/she is incompetent. The Register, who should know better, sought sound byte quotes (via email) from people who were not at the game and who are unfamiliar with this coach and this program. The only possible destination for that approach is an article full of criticism about the coach and his devotion to his players. This destination ended up on the front page of the Sunday Sports section.

When did we start assuming the worst in the people devoting the most time to our young people? For sure, there are some ignorant coaches out there. There are even some coaches who are bad people with bad motives. But a majority? Enough so that when any issue of controversy arises, the immediate verdict in the general public's heart, from a distance, sight unseen, is guilty?

This trend should concern not only coaches, who must mentally prepare for this; but also any parent who is hoping to have quality, caring, sacrificial, motivating coaches for their kids. The battle is wearying. I applaud all coaches willing to be great in the face of constant public doubt. I fear them to be a dying breed.

What I write here, though, is a trend not only in coaching, but in society as well. I recognize in myself the trend to assume the worst in people. It's equally damning when I assume the worst about my neighbor or my co-worker or the person in front of me in line at the store. Or even my enemy, the one who has proven time and time again that they are as bad as I assume them to be.

I'm a full believer in original sin and the total depravity of mankind in absence of a Savior. We are full of sin, all of us. We are capable of great evil, even on our best days. But we are not all bad, all the time. And certainly, if we seek patience from the rest of the world in understanding our own motives and actions, we can deliver the same by never declaring them guilty upon first glance.

Coming Clean about Pride and Prejudice and Kids Books

I love classic literature.

For that reason, and because I'll be teaching it next year, I begrudgingly picked up the 19th Century British novel Pride and Prejudice this week. I say begrudgingly because I have consistently and soundly mocked my wife and her friends for their love affair with the text (they are her friends when talking about Pride and Prejudice or shopping, our friends when doing almost anything else).

Of course they've been right all along - I've enjoyed the read thoroughly thus far. It's clever and subtle and complex and full of social commentary and downright hilarious if you're paying attention. That's why it's considered a classic, and it's why I'll embrace it and all other classics despite Mark Twain's definition of a classic text as one that everyone wants to have read but no one wants to read. Classics are rich. Classics are deep. Classics require several careful readings, and demand something of the reader. They are worth the effort. I hope I can convince my AP students of this next year.

Sometimes, though, great quality and truth can be found in the simplest of texts: children's literature. While I love a good classic, I must admit my time spent with some children's literature this summer has proven meaningful as well.

My most recent read in my travails through C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia is the book The Horse and His Boy. Without going into too much specific detail, the main character, a boy, and his traveling partners - two horses and a girl - have faced many trials on a journey. The scariest of the trials have been their repeated encounters with lions who have been chasing them. Upon reaching his ultimate destination and meeting Aslan (the Christ figure in this series), the young boy, full of self-pity, tells Aslan about the trials and how unfortunate this trip and his life in general has been. Aslan's response:

"There was only one lion. . .I was the lion. I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you amongst the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

And all of a sudden, all of the trials the boy had faced were opened to him for what they were - instrumental in getting him onto his current journey and making him successful in that journey. They were for his ultimate good. They caused pain and hardship, and they did not make sense at the time; however, at the heart of all of them was Aslan, either causing or allowing them to happen. The boy could not know at the time where these trials would take him, nor did he need to know. Aslan knew. And that was enough.

Trials are not fun. Losing friends and family, living under constant stress or threat, battling injustice, and enduring unexpected, undeserved pain awaits all of us at some point on whatever journey we are on. They are inevitable. Mountains of theology and sermons and I'm sure even classic texts will expound with great complexity and depth on this subject.

But from the simplicity and beauty of a "children's book" I saw what I could not see in another way. Sometimes the words targeted for the hearts of children are what adults most need to hear.

Notes From Camp 2013: Worth the Wait

Every year in camp I see a couple of kids whose demeanor drives me crazy. They're arrogant. They pout. They lack focus, composure, a competitive drive, and respect for other kids. There's never very many of them, but I can usually count on a couple to really rub me the wrong way. They're usually in one of our younger groups, so I go home and hope that becoming a high school Mohawk basketball player just isn't in the cards for their future.

This year, though, I could point to three separate players who used to fall into the aforementioned category. I used to loathe their very presence - every eye roll, every lazy walk up the court, every smart-ass comment made me want to very personally and not-so-gently escort them from the gym. Not this year. Now I love them as players. This year I saw essential qualities from them - always mixing it up in some way, doing the little things that would help their team and themselves win. They've become the type of kid whose potential as a player and as a competitor in the arena of life I believe in. All I had to do was be patient.

Most people, myself included, are quick to label others they meet and file them neatly into categories: friendly, boring, jerk, amusing, liar, etc. We place them in that file, expect that behavior from them constantly, and only seek in future interactions to prove our initial classification.

There are also those people that we've known for a long time, usually people that we're stuck with, who in many ways we've lost hope for. An annoying coworker. An incompetent boss. A passion-less spouse. A distant sibling. A neighbor who can't be outside without blasting music from their car stereo to serenade the neighborhood.

Don't give up on them. Not quite yet. They're still developing, still learning, still growing. Be patient. Personal (and player) development is ongoing, and it's impossible to tell what the finished product might be. They may annoy you or disappoint you or cause you pain now. And they may always be that way. But maybe not. They just may turn into exactly the kind of players you need in your life. If they do, you'll want them on your team.

And pray, like I desperately pray, that your spouse, your kids, your coworkers, and your neighbors are patient with you too. We've all got a long way to go.


***Other "Notes from Camp 2013" Posts:

• Moving the Good to Great
• Why Croquet and Ladder Golf Will Save You
• Keep Your Own Score

Notes From Camp 2013: Moving The Good To Great

I like coaching basketball. I don't do it because the money is good or because I don't know what else I'd do with my time. It's fun. I like the kids, I like the coaches, and I think I have something to offer. That being said, some days are better than others. That was true this year during our week of camp just like it's true all season long.

Every day of camp I enjoyed to a certain degree, but the best day of the week was Tuesday. On Tuesday my girls were in the gym for half an hour. This summer I've taken to calling them "Team Dykstra," and they seem to get a kick out of that. They got to come eat lunch during our break with me, and then we went and fooled around in the gym until the next session started, passing basketballs back and forth and running around and giggling. I introduced them to a couple of high school players who were still around. Then they left. They were only there for half an hour, but they turned a good day into the best day of the week.

This lesson from camp isn't a whole lot more complicated than that: quite simply, everything I like is better when my family is there. The least enjoyable years of my coaching career were when the girls were too young to be in the gym. My family life was at home; my coaching life was at the gym. I felt alone. The wins were never as good, and the losses were tougher to take. Before that when my wife was at every game, sometimes nervously keeping the scorebook while I scowled and shouted and demanded to know how many fouls my point guard had, I could share coaching with my family. Now that my girls are in the gym, I get to share that joy infinitely more.

There are times when I definitely need to get away. I get on my bike to escape sometimes. Or I go on a run. Or workout. But I've figured out that most of what I enjoy in life goes from good to great when my family is a part of it. I've got to get my girls in the gym.

Occasionally my wife will leave town for a weekend to see friends. Once a year, maybe twice, I pull single dad duty. I used to dread it because it was really hard work. The girls were smaller, needier, less independent. It was exhausting, and I couldn't wait for Emily to get home and rescue me.

She left for one of those weekends recently, and the same anxious feeling for her to return quickly was there. Now, though, it was for a different reason. The girls and I had a great weekend - we went hiking, swimming, and to a small gathering of friends; we read and went out to eat and went to church. But something was missing. Hiking and swimming, reading and playing, parties and church are all good; but they are so much better with all my girls. The second my wife returned, I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled a little bigger - Team Dykstra was together again.

If you want the good in your life to go to great, get your most important teammates with you and share it with them.

***This is my 3rd post regarding Notes from Camp 2013. To read the others, click on the following links:

• Why Croquet and Ladder Golf Will Save You
• Keep Your Own Score

Notes From Camp 2013: Why Croquet and Ladder Golf Will Save You

I got to know my wife's grandfather through many rounds of croquet played together. Obviously that's not how I met him; but it was during impromptu attempts to speed through wickets on summer afternoons that he learned that I was the type of guy who was willing to take trash-talk from an ornery 75-year old man and who was equally willing to give it right back to him. It was there that I learned the humility (and joy) of losing to a legally blind geriatric case who needed me to confirm that his ball did, in fact, successfully disqualify mine. I've loved him ever since.

In August every summer, Fopma cousins from all over invade farmland south of Grinnell to do battle in a loosely-officiated backyard volleyball game and an epic wiffle ball contest (ice cream lids for bases, corn for a warning track) for yearlong bragging rights and the right to eat one's evening dessert with a taste of victory rather than with the lump of missed opportunities. This gathering perennially firms relationships inside our clan.

Playing games of this sort has been directly responsible for creating or solidifying many of the key relationships in my life. Ping pong, ladder golf, basketball, dunkball, slow-pitch softball, and even crutch-ball have placed me in the position to discover the best qualities in many of the people that I love. All it took was play.

At the end of basketball camp this year, we told the kids that one of the best things they could do this summer was just go and play. Go find a couple of other kids, or maybe just one, and go play. Sure, camps are good. Scheduled open gyms are fine. But unscheduled, unplanned play with no one watching and nothing at stake except for winning and losing on that day will produce far more. Go to the driveway, or the park, or the Y, or the nerf hoop in your living room. Just play ball.

We believe this will make them better basketball players. But it will do far more for them than that. It continues to do more for me. Playing games on good days has ensured that on the tough days, the ones where play would be wildly out of place, I've got someone there for me just the same.

It's summer. Go find a game.