We had a great year. A two week trip to Utah, numerous camping trips, a two week trip to Minnesota, and it’s all packed in this little picture show for you all to see! It was wonderful to spend so much times with you all. Everyone was so generous to let us stay in their homes, eat their food, and mess up their family rooms! It’s sad to live so far away from so many of you. But we think of you often and sure appreciate the times we can spend together.

If you are seeing this on the main page, click “read more” below to watch it here or click the title to bring it up in its own window. Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

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Having kids is the best. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said, “My Kid is a Terrific Kid,” and I really liked that. It’s not about being an honor student, not about being a cheerleader, not about anything they do…they are inherently terrific. I’ve read a fair amount about child development (Dinkmeyer, McKay, Gottman), attended parenting classes, and have three wonderful kids…I’m no expert, but I know I don’t want to manipulate my kids. I try not to let my own desires and wishes get in the way of my feelings for them. I want them to know I’ll love them regardless…always. They don’t have to win my love, they don’t have to prove themselves, I admire and love them…period. I want to encourage them, no question about that, but I want a feeling of unconditional love to always be present.

Sometimes I try and imagine horrible scenarios and think to myself….would I love this child of mine if they did this…or this…or wanted this (insert your own nightmare). And it’s hard…but yes I would love them, of course. Could I hide disappointment? I can imagine times it might not be easy. I want them to be successful and happy. I want them to live a good life. I have ideals I hope they will adopt, but what if they choose not to? I think of my own parents and the difficulty they faced when I left the church….something I know they always imagined and wanted for me. Something that is the most important part of their life…and I chose not to go that route. It’s not easy. Could I let my kids be themselves, make mistakes, and unconditionally give them my love and support. Can I let them develop and not impose my own desires and dreams upon them? You know, yes, I think I can. Although…I’m getting teenagers now, so check back in five years…hehe. Read the rest of this entry »

A couple weeks ago Mikayla brought home a school project for the American Heart Association. They were doing a fund raiser by having the kids solicite money from friends and family. Mikayla was really excited to do it and talked a lot about raising money for people who have strokes.

As the deadline approached, she started asking me how much I’d give her for the program. I also heard her talking a lot about which prize she would be getting. Prize? Turns out that she gets different prizes based on how much money she raises. She said the prize wasn’t the important thing, that she was doing it for the money…and I believe her. I’m not sure why I did this next thing. Maybe it was mean, maybe it was too much for such a little girl…I don’t know.

I said, “Ok Mikayla, I’ll give you $5. Or, if you tell them you don’t want the prizes and want to donate them back to the program, I’ll give you $20.”

This put her poor little head into a spin. You see, my $5 put her over the limit for the next prize group, which she was hoping to get. Yet, if she gave up her prizes, the Hart Association gets more money.

What was her reaction? She struggled hard with this one. She cried, she got mad, she tried to talk me out of it. At this point, I didn’t know where to go with it. Do I back down and just do the $20? I don’t know what the best thing would be, but I said, “It’s ok, Mikayla, just take the $5 if you don’t want to do it. You have still raised a lot of money for them.”

She couldn’t let it rest. In the morning before school she asked me for a $20 donation and said she didn’t need the dumb prizes anyways. She told her teacher she didn’t want the prizes and sent off her donation. What a little sweetie pie. She’s a smart little girl and quite a deep thinker for an 8 year old.

As a follow-up, her teacher said it wasn’t possible to tell them not to send the prizes. They will be sending her the prizes. Mikayla came up with the idea of donating them to the homeless shelter that Kim volunteers at once a week.

I just saw “Stand by me Again.” I figured my kids would like it so we watched it as a family. It managed to stir up quite a bit…now if I can just get some of it out.I grew up on the edge of a small town which was planted out in the middle of red sand and sage brush. To pass the time, I used to start clubs, games, and stuff for me and the younger boys of the neighborhood, including my two younger brothers. Several times a year, we’d pack up sleeping bags, tents, pots, pans, and some food and head a mile out of town into the hills and camp for the night. I was a good kid and had a good reputation so the parents of the neighborhood trusted me to take their kids with me (sometimes as young as preschool!). And I was only 11 years old.

We learned how to be more efficient at the whole camping thing. I have a picture of one of our first trips. We have our stuff packed up into a wagon and, get this, tied to the top of an old lawnmower. It didn’t have a blade or motor, but it had four wheels and a handle. We tied a bunch of stuff on top of it and pushed/carried that damn thing about 3/4s of a mile through red sand and sage brush before realizing it was more work that it was worth. That old lawnmower sat at the bottom of a very sandy wash until about five years ago when a housing development moved in and flattened out the best playground in the world.
We camped at the same place every time. Starting from my house, we walked north a block to the top of the neighborhood, then turn right. Two houses later, the road turned to dirt and we were out of town, basically. On the right was sage brush, on the left we’d pass the old abandoned turkey farm (another great play area and meant for another story) and a large alfalfa field. After the half mile walk, we’d hit the end of the road and an unauthorized junkyard (and there are stories here too). At this point, our bike trails started. Sometimes we took our bikes camping but that would take two trips, so most of the time we’d leave them home. Read the rest of this entry »

This morning while I was soaking in a nice hot tub and reading (rereading, actually), “The Simple Living Guide,” I noticed my wedding ring. First I looked at its color…golden. A golden band. Then I looked closely at the texture…and I jumped back 12 years in time.

Kim and I picked out the ring: a solid gold band, beveled edges, and a brushed texture over the surface. I remember really liking the texture. After our marriage, my parents were looking at my ring. “That’s almost exactly like yours, honey…” my mom said.

Like my dads ring? No way! I’ve seen my dads ring plenty of times. It looks nothing like my new wedding band! So I took a closer look. Nope, nothing like mine…his is shiny and polished…and the shape even looked a bit strange. Before I could answer, my mom chimed in again…

“Yea, that looks almost exactly like yours did when we bought it…before the designs wore off…” I took another look at his ring…ok, well, maybe. Not that it matters what they look like, but it was hard to imagine my dads ring ever looking anything like mine.

So, today in the tub, I took a good look at my ring. As I looked at my reflection in the gold surface, I was struck with emotion. My ring looks more like my dads now. The middle of the ring is smooth and shiny without any sign at all of designs or markings. There is, however, still some remains of the cross-hatch markings near the edges. It felt wonderful…sitting there smiling as tears streamed down my cheeks. That’s twelve years of marriage right there! The tears kept falling as I thought about the issues and trials Kim and I have faced together in the past twelve years. We have worked hard at our marriage. I also shed a few in honor of my dad’s 36 year old worn wedding ring. The thought that gets me the most, though, is the scary, sweet, touching, surprising, sad, happy, exciting, wonderful (and I’m still missing about 30 adjectives) reality that every day, my wedding ring looks more and more like my dads. I’m glad I’ve put a good shine to it.