I bet that almost all of us have, at some point, stood on the beach at the shoreline and watched the water push in and out. As the tide rolls back and forth, sometimes it goes higher on to the dry sand and other times it barely seems to push in at all. Other times, it pulls out deep into the water exposing new mysteries on the gulf floor. No one can deny this ebb and flow. As well, rarely does anyone think when it pushes in, it will never end or when it pulls out the water is receding forever. We have seen the ebb and flow and we enjoy the ancient back and forth.
Life is a lot like this same ebb and flow. In different seasons it feels busy and chaotic and in other seasons it feels quiet and still. Rarely does anyone think this season will stay forever and honestly we all tend to look forward to the change in pace.
We are about to approach a change of pace here at The Chapel. Between Spring Break, the season of Lent, and other great things happening around here, there are lots of details you need to know. Please read below about the upcoming ebb and flow at The Chapel.
I don’t really remember learning how to ride a bike. I have vague memories of being in front of our house on our dead-end street, trying short distances with no training wheels… and then, suddenly, I could do it.
Years later, at Christmas with Sarah’s family, her brother Josh had bought a kid’s bike for our nephew and was removing the pedals. I didn’t understand why, but apparently, there was a growing idea that if we teach kids to ride a bike without focusing on pedaling, they will find their balance naturally as they coast. Then you add the pedals back on, and suddenly they can ride.
Years later again, when we had kids, we lived in Dallas on very busy streets. Our kids got bikes for Christmas, but we never felt good about trying to teach them to ride without training wheels because everywhere we went… there were so many cars and people.
A few years ago we went to Italy and my kids, who already loved pasta, became even more infatuated with it. Most of us eat the store bought kind…but once you have real, homemade fresh pasta…it’s really hard to go back. So a few months back, they wanted to make some homemade pasta. We didn’t have a proper roller, but we made it work anyway. Then for Christmas we got a pasta maker and my kids have been working on creating unbelievable homemade pasta.
Making homemade pasta isn’t incredibly hard, it just takes a bit of time and effort.
I once was congratulating a friend for getting their PHD and they said all it is, is having Patience, Humility, and Discipline.
I’m sure it’s more than that…and I don’t think that’s what PHD stands for, but I haven’t looked into it.
Over the years, Sarah and I have put together puzzles over holidays or times with family and friends. We’ve never been hard-core “puzzle people”…like we didn’t have a puzzle table or special puzzle mats to build on or any of the other puzzle accessories people collect. We’d do it here and there and enjoy it.
We hosted our extended family for a reunion back in October, and when they were here, we got 2 puzzles of the area for people to put together. My family loved them! Fun puzzles, cool design, and doable in the short amount of time we were together. On one of the puzzles, we got to the end, and there was a missing piece. There were nearly 40 of us…so it is not out of the question that someone took it to get the pride of dropping in the final piece. The people that (nearly) finished it did it late the last night and searched high and low to find the missing piece. No luck. Many assumed, myself included, that my younger son had taken it so he could have that privilege…he did start the puzzle days before, so it was a logical conclusion he was saving the final more for himself.
The next morning, we were cleaning up and packing up, and right before we put away the (nearly) finished puzzle, we slid it slightly, and the table had slight gaps between the wood pieces…and there between the wood, there it was. The final piece.
Last week I had the opportunity to help with an event at the school my kids go to. It was an activity where they practiced social skills and were learning how to be confident, well spoken, thoughtful, kind, courteous, and you know…be good functioning people in society…it turns out that is necessary in life.
It was amazing. These middle schoolers were unbelievably articulate, well thought out, and courteous.
I loved being there and helping out
Before the day we were told to grade these kids hard but fair. Don’t just give them a free pass. Help them learn what they need to work on. Very quickly I learned, golly these kids are good. I guess I need to adjust the curve and grade even harder than I thought so I don’t just give everyone nearly perfect scores.
So I did…because you know…I’m a rule follower.
Over the past year, my kids have essentially two sets of clothes. The uniforms they wear for school. And the clothes they wear every other day. Their standard clothes on the weekend are Chubbies shorts and a Volcom shirt for Foster and a Chiefs jersey for Keating.
I love chubbies shorts, I love Volcom shirts, I love the Chiefs…but if I had to choose the only thing for my kids to wear…it wouldn’t be that…or at least not everyday.
We all have gone through some sort of journey where our parents or grandparents or someone else guided us and taught us…then at some point, we took on those responsibilities for ourselves. We started to make our own decisions and choices.
When I used to dress my kids and didn’t let them decide, they wore the coolest clothes…alas, they now decide. I have given them their own ability to choose clothes.
All of us go through a journey to launch, and it is leading up to our independence, we are being coached or led until we get there. As followers of Jesus, we believe that our coaching or leading that is done in the faith never actually ends. We should always turn to our God and King to help us make wise decisions.
The struggle is many of us think we know best…and we don’t want to consult from anyone else, especially an ancient book or divine creator.
