August Review

I've committed each month this year to reporting out my progress on 3 specific year long goals that I've set for myself. Below is my progress for the month.

Goal 1: Read 25 books.
I read two plays this month - Death of a Salesman and The Importance of Being Earnest. This continues to be the easiest of the goals to chase. I'm at 18 for the year.

Goal 2: Write 75 blog posts.
This wasn't a great month, but I plugged away and made some progress. Five for August puts my total at 52 for the year. My favorite for the month is probably And the Fear Came Tumbling Down, primarily because I got to mix in some Calvin and Hobbes with my writing. I can't afford any more slow months, though - I need at least six every month the rest of the way to finish this one out.

Goal 3: Write 25 letters.
I wrote two more, which puts me at 14. This is really the only goal I'm worried about. I need 3 a month the rest of the way, which is definitely doable. However, this continues to be the one I put off the most. It's ironic - this is the one I feel like is the most important for me to complete as well.

Other stats from the family:
August has also seen major milestones for my oldest daughter - her first lost teeth, her first unassisted bike ride, and her first day of kindergarten. Fatherhood continues to be a blur. . .

Quotes to note from the month:

• "The less we read the Word of God, the less we desire to read it, and the less we pray, the les we desire to pray." - George Muller
• "The excellence of the church does not consist in multitude but in purity." - John Calvin
• "If God had granted all the silly prayers I've made in my life, where would I be now?" - C.S. Lewis
• In principle we should be spending most of our time on our highest priorities. In practice, many of us spend our time doing whatever happens to be in front of us. - Jemar Tisby
• "Mad is a human emotion, but I don't find that if you act while you are mad, you are at your best. So get mad if you have to, then get over it." - Colin Powell

Good Articles:

• Offering HELP in times of suffering: I thought this was really good for advice for the situation we all face but never want to.
• 8 Email Mistakes You Make
• My Six Word War

2013 marches on. May our priorities guide us.

Guacamole is Good; My Neighbor Might Be Too

Guacamole surprised me.

Really, I had no idea. "Just try it," badgered one of my friends. "I made it. It's good." But, my mind stammered, it's green. It's weird. It's gross. The stereotypes I had let cloud my judgment for so many years attacked my fading will. Those old biases failed me in a moment of weakness, and I recklessly dunked the chip into the dip. The world has never been the same.

Guacamole is good. Really good. It's not alone. I've got a big fat list of food I refused for years, content to live by assumptions that controlled my thinking and actions, that over the past 12 months or so I've come to love. Bruschetta. Chinese. Spinach and artichoke. Asparagus. Caramelized onions on a burger. The big heaping pile of squash and zucchini cooked on the grill tonight. I'm really looking forward to Thai on some wild future evening. I'm a new man.

I don't know if my palate changed or not, but I do know my willingness to expose myself to that which I believed I hated has increased exponentially. I'm eager to try food now, looking for whatever goodness I can find. I battle hesitation, instead saying yes before I've had time to waver. What's the worst that could happen? My worst assumptions confirmed? Then I've lost nothing.

Do my recent culinary habits amount to anything worthwhile? Not really. They just got me thinking about people and what we assume about them. For myself, as I'm sure is the case for many of you, there's a somewhat lengthy list of people that I don't care much to listen to because of what I believe about them. They're conceited. They speak before they think. They just want to complain. They just don't get it. They're only thinking about themselves anyway. I might as well be accusing them of being a foreign vegetable.

Sometimes you and I just need to try people out and see what they have to offer. It may be nothing. It may be awful. And if so? Am I really out that much?

Mez McConnell wrote this recently: 

When I was in New York a couple of years ago doing a training programme for church planters, one phrase in particular stuck with me. We were told that a good church planter/leader was an ‘agile learner’. In other words, somebody who had not shut up shop but was still reading, observing, listening and processing almost all of the time. They had not shut themselves down to people outside of their tribe or to people with new and different ideas. What I have learned is that a good leader does not shut down if the person opposite him is not from his tribe, is slightly irritating and may not even be sound (as I define it).

Say yes once in awhile when you want to hesitate. When your gut tells you no. Say yes to a conversation, to an adventure, to a condiment. It may not work out. In fact, it probably won't. But you just might discover something you've been missing for a long time.

Assaults on My Time

I had a different vision for this week.

It hasn't been a bad week; it's just not necessarily what I was hoping for. It's my last few days before I report back for regular classroom duty, and I had plans for myself. They weren't big plans, nor necessarily selfish plans, but they were my plans for my time.

The plans were essentially all for naught. My time was slowly and methodically taken from me, stolen by minor inconveniences, unexpected obstacles, puking children, and the like. Nothing major. No great tragedies. It's as simple as how I expected and hoped to spend my time becoming changed. Or more bluntly, me not getting my way and being on the verge of silly tantrum.

This is further proof that I have paid lip-service but not life-service to the truth that my life and my time are not my own. I find it much easier to see my money as God's money than I do to see my time as God's time. I've got things to do - worthy things, scholarly things, fatherly things, like reading and writing and taking care of my house.

Regardless of how worthy my endeavors are, life is in the obstacles and interruptions. The interruptions are allowed by God, for God's glory. Help changing my character in reaction to these is, more than anything else, what I need and ask for most when speaking of my "daily bread." While the interruptions and interactions that I don't see coming may prove inconsequential to me, they are certainly not inconsequential in terms of eternity. They are an opportunity for me either to contribute to God's will or to stand in stark opposition as I grip my own.

There were mornings this summer when I was interrupted. After my wife got out of bed to go to work, I wanted only one of two things: to fall effortlessly fall back into a dream-filled sleep, or go steal some reading time in my recliner. The only obstacle to this comfortable scenario was my youngest daughter Leah. Some mornings she didn't want to sleep. I'd hear her coming down the stairs, and my soul swelled with anger. Go back to sleep! Don't you know my plans? You're interrupting me! You're going to be tired later. More importantly, you're interrupting me!! I would then furrow my brow, grumble curses into my pillow, and handle the obstacle.

After about the 3rd time that this happened, though, I wised up. All she wanted to do in the mornings when she was awake early was cuddle up into a chair and read with me. Book after book after book, my little 3-year old snuggled into my lap and said, "Another one?" The interruption to my selfish desires turned out to be far better, for both her and me, than any of my plans.

Some day, far down the road, I'll be sitting in that chair, book in hand, doing exactly what I have planned, hoping for the interruption of tiny footsteps coming down the stairs to jump into my lap. Until that day, I'll keep working harder to open my mind and my heart to the great possibilities in life's interruptions.

And the Fear Came Tumbling Down

I snapped. I was done talking. I just marched down the sidewalk, my daughter's bike in hand, silent.

"Dad?"

No answer.

"What are you going to do with the bike?" Voice cracking, frustration fueled-tears welling, my daughter wanted to know what was going on.

"Carrying it home. We're done."

During the summer I have been trying to teach Elise to ride her bike without training wheels. She was excited at first, and we worked hard at it. I thought the process was going well, despite my lack of experience in the art of teaching 5 year old girls anything, let alone how to ride a bike. There were no major falls. She was slowly getting better. I occasionally took my hand off the bike, which she allowed, and she was close to getting it. Sometime, though, unbeknownst to me, this happened:

All of a sudden, we couldn't go 5 feet without her shaking in terror. Even with my hand on the bike, she wailed of possible injuries. She flinched and flailed about to avoid non-existent traffic in our bustling metropolis of 1500 citizens. Clearly, this was an irrational fear. I inquired about what was going on:

It didn't help. Regardless of all attempts at reason I made, I couldn't dent her fear. "I'm right here," I told her. "I won't let go." Sobs. "I'm your father. It's my job to protect you. I won't let anything bad happen." No change. "All I'm asking is that you try. You did it a few days ago. I've never let you fall. You can do this, and I'm here. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to try." Nothing.

I offered suggestions:

When that failed as well, when it was clear nothing that I could say would change anything, it was time to pick up the bike, quit talking, and go home. I couldn't understand it. I had kept her safe. I had been patient. I had almost 6 years of a track record of safe-keeping and somewhat reliable guidance, and what I had to offer was freedom, fun, and a world full of new opportunities. All she had to do was get over her fear.

Tonight the fear wall came tumbling down. I don't know how. She didn't ask to go ride; I told her we were going to. Nothing was different about this "training session." She just decided to ride. Five or ten minutes into it, I was sprinting beside her, trying to keep up, all while she was screaming, "This is whoo-hoo fast! This is awesome!"  All neighborhood passers-by praised her, and she beamed on trip after trip after trip down 1st Street, onto Boulder Avenue, past the park and then back again. It was an evening I won't forget. I don't think she will either.

While I'm not sure exactly what it is, I know there is something God is trying to get me to do that I'm just too scared to. I'm guessing the same is true for you as well. Despite the offer of freedom, of joy, of accomplishment, and of unlimited opportunities, we avoid. Despite a history of proving faithful, of being The Rock and a Firm Foundation and of providing wisdom that carries the day time and time again, we just can't get past the irrational fear holding us back.

It might be something big like a career change, a move, or even leaving a comfortable but unhealthy relationship. But chances are what we're afraid of is something much smaller. We're afraid to give up a sin we relish. Or to swallow our pride with our spouse. Or end a grudge. Or to simply make a phone call to someone important to us, or who used to be important, or who should be important. 

Irrational fear paralyzes. But my daughter will tell you, once you get on that bike and ride, you'll wonder why it took so long in the first place. 

"Behold, the Purple Blur," and Other Vacation Reflections

I and the other members of Team Dykstra embarked on a summer adventure for a few days last week to Duluth. Like with our Spring Break trip, I offer a few reflections and lessons from our family vacation:

Purple Blur!
Just before we went on vacation, Leah got a new pair of purple shoes that she is extraordinarily proud of. She loves to run in them, so much so that I nicknamed her the "Purple Blur" and started shouting that out every time she sprinted and leaped about with the intention of gaining our admiration.

We did a great deal of walking and hiking on this vacation, and there were times when energy was significantly lagging in the girls on a hike. All I had to do to keep Leah going, though, was to shout "Purple Blur! Purple Blur!" when she was dragging the most; immediately, she began racing, deer-like, with boundless enthusiasm. It proved a much more effective means of motivation than, "Leah! Get your butt in gear. You're falling behind!"

Believe the best in people, and verbalize that best to them, and chances are they'll become that best.

Vacation by Any Other Name. . .
On our way to Duluth, we had to go to Rochester for an appointment at Mayo for Leah. Leah hates doctors. Elise hates waiting. All was well, however, because we told the girls that our vacation started on Tuesday. Tuesday was the day of the doctor's appointment. They knew where we were going; but the fact that we called it "vacation" meant to them that it was some sort of adventure, a time of excitement and untold opportunities. And it was. Elise thought Rochester was so great that she wants to live there some day. Leah had perhaps her most pleasant doctor visit ever.

Every day we get to wake up and speak expectations into our day. If you say it's going to be a good day, it probably will be.

Plans are good. Adventures are better.
We had a couple of events solidly on our calendar, as planning was necessary to accomplish all our goals. The boat ride on Lake Superior and the ride on the North Shore Scenic Railroad required tickets and specific times. We knew exactly when we would visit the aquarium and Split Rock Lighthouse based on our travel schedule. But we didn't overschedule - we left room for the spontaneous. And if you ask the girls, the unplanned evening hike to skip rocks along the shore was one of the biggest highlights of the trip. We got dirty, waved at boats, and caused big splashes, all without the narration of a tour guide. Plans are essential, but so are empty spaces to explore.

Every day is someone's vacation.
The service all week was immaculate. We were well cared for at restaurants, tourist attractions, our hotel, and everywhere else we went. People actively sought ways to make our experience better, even the overly zealous, pun-enamored guide on our boat tour. Yes, that's their job, but it's their job every day. Duluth is a major summer destination, and we got there just after the Duluth Tall Ships Festival, a heavily attended event. All who provided service to us and worked to improve our time there have to do that over and over and over again. Former Yankee great Joe DiMaggio, upon being asked about why he approached every game with such effort, said, "There is always some kid who may be seeing me for the first time. I owe him my best."

Whether they knew it or not, when we needed it, those working for us came through with their best. Every day, every interaction is of consequence. Every day is someone's vacation, someone's birthday, or someone's day of great need. The only way to be ready is to be excellent every day.

What you learned yesterday matters today.
Hearkening back to our Spring Break trip, several lessons from that week proved applicable once again. A bag of dum-dum suckers cured many a bout of fatigue, boredom, or just plain antagonism. We played hard with good people, including friends in Minneapolis on our way there. We crossed another life goal of Elise's off the list - that of seeing a lighthouse up close. We crossed one off of mine and Emily's list, as we daydreamed about taking our not-yet-born children to Duluth on a visit six years prior. And I shaved my vacation beard today. The difference between vacation and not vacation for me right now, though, is not such a difficult transition.