Kings under the King

Airplane Rock

While hiking with my brother between Old Man's Cave and Cedar Falls I pointed to some high, sandstone cliffs above and to our left. I mentioned that when I see those and other similar rocky places I have this almost uncontrollable urge to climb up there. I have this urge to jump the trail and explore. The trail we are on is great, the sites are aweso
me, but there is something inside that says, "what's up there, what's off the trail, what can you discover?"

Men are born with that sense of adventure built in. Where would we be without it? We certainly wouldn't be on the International Space Station. We probably wouldn't be in North America. I'd venture to say that we, as a race, may not even be in existence if it weren't for that adventurous spirit that says, "I wonder, I'll bet, let's try" and so on.

Behind our house to the southwest is a small patch of woods that my boys are always begging to go explore no matter the season. To them, it's like going on a jungle adventure. They look for all sorts of treasures: turtles, sticks, skulls, and rocks. Even a pocket full of hickory nuts is booty to bring back to the castle. They follow the trails paved by the whitetail deer and the small stream might as well be a raging river. On another part of the property there is a sandstone ledge that is about 5 feet high that they love to visit. They climb up the face grabbing crevice and roots and slide back down the dirt bank on wet leaves. The adventurous spirit is built in.

What if we could use that God-given spirit for the Good, the True, and the Beautiful? What if we could raise up wild, adventurous, bold, brave, chivalrous, Godly men or become one ourselves? Would you try? Even if it meant unspeakable pain? Even if it meant struggle, failure, hardship, and testing like you have never experienced before?

If you are not willing, ask yourself why? Are you afraid? Christ says, "fear is useless." Are you weak? St. Paul says, "it is when I am weak that I am strong." My advice to you, "trust God." He can be trusted. He made you for this and He would never put you through anything above and beyond what you can handle, with His grace.

If you are willing, let's go. Let's start the adventure together. I'm no expert but I know the voice of God is calling us. He is calling men to reclaim their rightful heritage as kings under the King of Kings. There's a term to look at - King of Kings. There aren't too many kings left today so what is this title referring to other than the fact that we are those kings or at least we are destined to be, when we are ready. That is what Adam should have been.

The Catechism tells us that, "The anointing with sacred chrism, perfumed oil consecrated by the bishop, signifies the gift of the Holy Spirit to the newly baptized, who has become a Christian, that is, one "anointed" by the Holy Spirit, incorporated into Christ who is anointed priest, prophet, and king." (CCC 1242) He is the King of Kings. He is the King, we the kings. We are incorporated into Him and therefore we share in His priesthood, His prophetic office, and His kingship.
Our adventure, for the purpose of this blog, will begin with three things.

First, prayer. I would challenge you in some way to increase your prayer life. Go to Mass during the week, pray the rosary on Sunday with your family (if you have one) or alone, pray the Liturgy of the Hours (the official prayer of the Church.) In your prayer, talk to God as you talk to your very best friend in plain language and then listen, repeat, rinse (just making sure you're paying attention).

Second, get out. Go for a walk, work out, bike or something that gets the heart pumping a little bit. God never meant for us to sit and stare at this screen all day. We are a total package - body, mind and soul. The soul needs the prayers as much as the body needs the exercise and the other way round too. The mind comes next...

Third, read. As stated in the "about this blog" section, I'll be following both Wild at Heart
and The Way of the Wild Heart by John Eldredge as well as the companion journals. The other two essential books for this adventure are The Bible and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The old adage is so true - garbage in, garbage out. If all we are reading is the newspaper, magazines, and the like our brains will turn to mush, or worse. Saint Paul says, "Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect." (Romans 12:2) We must be transformed. Rather, we must accept that this adventure will transform us and we must let it. The transformation will take place in the three areas listed above and in that transforming adventure we will learn to "discern what is the will of God". We will learn through prayer, physical transformation, and study how God wants us to rule our (His) kingdom.

I hope you stick with me, no, let's stick together for we cannot do this alone. We need each other and Him. Pray for me, I'll pray for you.

Controlled Power

One of my favorite activities is wrestling with my boys.  In fact, I often write it on my calender to make sure I don't leave it out during the week.

Our wrestling takes one of three forms.  First there is the horse / bull ride where the boys hop on my back and hold on for dear life.  This always gets the most laughs but trust me, the laughs are not coming from my knees.  Second, there is the one-on-one match where I let each boy in turn push me around and then I fling them around.  This give and take goes on for some time until I allow them to pin me to the floor.  When I sit up after a match, I have to be ready because the next boy is ready to pounce.  After wrestling each of the four boys twice, this old man is ready for bed.  Third, there is the everyone-against-dad match.  I usually prompt this match with a promise of dessert or candy if they can get me down.  It's all fun and games and I keep the upper hand, that is, until they decide to work together.  It is then that the real struggle begins.

Last week the boys asked if they could wrestle each other.  They are too young to pull dirty tricks so the only rule that I made was that they had to start from their knees.  I came up with this rule because I know how they can start swinging each other around and I could easily see someone being thrown through a French Door.

The two oldest wrestled first and the younger pinned the older after about 5 minutes of wrestling on the floor. Next the younger two wrestled and the younger one again pinned the older.  They all wanted to wrestle one more time and I agreed.  This second match with the older two went on for an eternity until finally the younger one once again pinned his older brother.  This was more than the older one could take and he exploded all over me with shouts of injustice.  "I wasn't down.  You weren't watching when I had him down two minutes ago.  I'm never doing this again," and on and on.  I sent him into the mud room to cool down.  After a few minutes I had a good talk with him about controlling himself.  That is, after all, why we are wrestling in the first place.

I wrestle with my boys to show them that they have incredible strength and that they must learn to control that strength.  I help them to realize that I could easily pummel each and every one of them but I don't.  I am in control, at all times, even when they get a shot in that fattens my lip, knocks my glasses off, or draws blood.  I control my strength, my body, my temper, my mind, my heart.  I have the control.  I hope that through wrestling and other activities they will realize that they too have great power, explosive power, but it must be controlled.  I hope to teach them that there are times to unleash that power and there are times to suppress that power but each and every time it must be controlled by them.  God has given them this gift and it is my job to teach them the proper use of the gift.

I'm Officially Old

In less than 6 weeks I will turn 39 years old.  I am older than my wife, my siblings, and the majority of my friends.  They all remind me of this as often as they can.

It's certainly not easy getting old.  My body hurts more than it used to.  Last November I played flag-football with some friends on a chilly Saturday afternoon.  Urged on by large doses of bravado and even larger does of homebrew I flung myself into the friendly game.  In the end, I needed dental work and two full weeks to recover. I find that I need to workout nearly everyday to keep the stiffness and soreness out of my joints.  If I miss a day or two, the next time I hit the trail or the weights I feel like the Tin Man desperately in need of some oil.  I don't think my mind has deteriorated any.  I still have an extremely short memory so it can't get much worse.

Yet through all of these events of weakening joints, loss of hair, and the ever growing "spare tire" I've never felt old...until last week.  Last week one single event made me feel like I had one foot in the grave, the other in the nursing home.

On Tuesday of that week the boys were especially rowdy in the morning.  I let them go for a while until I couldn't take it anymore.  I thundered out the laundry list of things they were to be doing, "Are your chores done? Did you clean your room? Did you brush your teeth?  Why haven't you started your homework", and on and on.  The answers to those questions were obviously, no.  I continued on, "why do I have to run off this list every morning?"  So far, so good, but I took it a step too far with this, "I feel like a broken record."  It was at that point that the earth stopped turning, time stood still, and all the world looked sadly upon this old man.  The birds froze in the sky, toy cars stopped in mid-course, and even the water coming out of the tap for the dishes stopped bubbling.  And then, it came, like a bolt of lightning out of the sky, voiced from my wonderful 8 year-old son, "....Dad, what's a record?"

The bird dropped from the sky, the car crashed into the wall, and the earth resumed it's normal speed.  The world didn't wait for my answer.  I was no longer relevant.  I realized then and there that I was officially - old.  No answer in the world would have sufficed.  The world didn't care.  I just shook my old head, took a shot of Geritol, and proceeded to do the dishes.

Deer Hunting

This year was the first year I have deer hunted seriously in a long time. I used to go deer hunting often when I was younger. However, the title of "dad" has stolen some of that dedicated time. As the boys get older though, I am able to take them, and I am able to slip out to hunt by myself as well.

I saw 6 does early in the morning on Monday but didn't get a shot at any of them. That afternoon, my brother, father and I decided to go my grandparents property on the other side of the county.

It's been a couple years since my grandparents died and I had not been to "the farm" since before my grandfather died. However, the familiarity came rushing back. As my brother and I moved toward our hunting spots we walked and talked about hunting there when we were younger. It was a homecoming of sorts. The old farm house and barns looked different, new paint and a little care, but welcoming. I was glad to be there.

I left my brother at the corner of the woods and moved on to my spot. It was a warm Monday afternoon and the smell of the woods and the crinkling of leaves underneath me brought back great memories. I sat just inside the woods where my father and I had often hunted squirrels. I laughed as I remembered the time that he told me that if I put cow manure on the back of my neck and behind my ears, it would keep the mosquitoes away.

The memory of hunting with my grandfather also came to mind. He was the first man that I hunted with other than my dad. I remember being so nervous when he put me in a spot to wait for deer. Luckily I never saw one or I probably would have been too scared to shoot. It felt good though, to be out with my grandfather, and be part of the hunting party that met each morning before the sun rose and enjoyed a breakfast that my grandmother would fix. It's a wonder anyone shot a deer in those days with us walking through the woods smelling of bacon, eggs, and coffee.

After an hour I signaled to my brother and we moved deeper into the woods for the remainder of the afternoon. I set up in a spot not too far from where my dad and I had one of the funniest deer hunting episodes I can remember. It was a cold, rainy day and dad had brought a couple of large trash bags for us to sit on and wrap over our feet against the moisture. We sat in the cold and damp for about an hour when two large bucks came down a trail toward us. Dad prompted me to take the first shot but I couldn't get a shot because of a small tree in the way. Within a few moments, the deer had spooked and began to run. Dad, forgetting about the trash bag wrapped around his feet, jumped up to shoot at the bucks only to find himself rolling over the bank toward the creek.

I did get a deer this year, a 4 point buck, but the memories of hunts long past was a bigger trophy and an inspiration to take the boys hunting more often. Hopefully, they too will feel the joy of the hunt, the companionship of men, experience the beauty and wildness of nature, and bag a life full of great memories in the woods.

Fishing

Here are some pictures from various fishing trips over the past couple weeks. Some were taken at my parents pond while others at Rose Lake (Old Man's Cave).

Cherry Bench I Built for Shoes, Boots etc

Here is the finished product of some hard work over the past few months (when I had the time of course). The is a 5 foot long bench / chest made of wild cherry. My grandfather took this massive cherry tree off of our property and had the Amish cut it up. Some of the boards were nearly 2 foot wide. I took much of it to the local staircase builder and had it plained down to use for kitchen cabinets. My father-in-law made the cabinets in 2005. This room was a disaster with 4 boys and numerous shoes, sandles, boots, hats, gloves, etc. This bench was the answer. It's over 62 inches long, 19 inches high and 20 inches tall with the inside of the bench being about 12 inches deep. The lid is one solid piece of cherry 16 inches wide. Drawers are below for gloves and hats.

The oldest testing the drawers

This is solitary confinement when the boys mis-behave. Unfortunately, at this time they are excited to be punished so that they can sit on the new bench.

The parts and pieces after I stained them.

Before stain

Preparing to sand

Glue, clamps, biscuts and coffee...not the biscuts you eat...

When God says no. (Repost from Real Life Rosary)

Another from my other blog.

Have you ever prayed for something only to have God say, "no"? Have you ever offered sacrifices, begun prayer chains, prayed novenas to every known saint in Heaven for an intention only to have God say, "no"? I have and I am willing to bet that you have too.

Most recently I prayed, as did many of you, that my daughter Catherine would be healed of the cancer in her right eye and that it would not need to be removed. We prayed hard everyday. We offered to God sacrifices and some of them heroic. We prayed novena after novena to Lucy, Peregrine and others. In the end, God said, "no".

Before that many of you prayed with us when Catherine was in the womb. You prayed with us during her first, second, and third surgery. You prayed for her healing. You prayed while she spent the first four months of her life in the hospital. You prayed for miracles and God said, "no".

So, how do we respond when our loving God says, "no"? How do we respond when unbelievers say, "where is your God?" I believe that our response depends on our relationship with Him. Like any human relationship, if the love between persons is shallow or superficial, it doesn't take much for the relationship to be destroyed or at least severely injured.

For the first few months of Catherine's life I viewed God as a miracle dispensing machine. I thought that if I asked hard enough, said enough prayers, offered enough sacrifices...He'd cough up a good 'ol miracle. After all, I reasoned, with the state of faith today, couldn't He use the attention of a bona fide miracle to get more souls on His side? I argued, pleaded, threatened. In short, I threw a good, solid, spiritual temper tantrum. He said "no" and I ran off to my room and vowed to never talk to Him again.

I struggled with my faith after that. I struggled with who I was and who He was. Through it all, He was a patient, loving Father awaiting my return. When I realized that He was a loving Father, I also realized that I was behaving like a spoiled child and that our relationship was not one of love and trust.

In His goodness, He helped me realize this shortly before Catherine was diagnosed with retinoblastoma. My prayers this time were different. I prayed earnestly for a miracle but only if it was His will. I vowed to trust Him no matter the outcome.

In prayer one day, like a little child I asked Him, "why do you say "no" so often?" He had two answers - 1) You ask for snakes, 2) I say "yes" far more than I say "no". Snakes? The answer came to me in an instant. He was referring to the passage in Matthew when Jesus says, "...if he asks for a fish, will you give him a serpent?" God was giving me the opposite and true statement saying essentially, "you asked for a snake, I want to give you a fish."

I realized that God has other plans for me and for Catherine. A miracle cure of her eye was not part of that plan and that I need to trust that what he will do through her will be far greater. God only says "no" when we ask for snakes.

I thought long and hard about Him saying "yes" far more than He says "no" but just couldn't see it at the time but I accepted it. It wasn't until our family was returning from a long trip that I realized how often He does say "yes". As we pulled into the drive I was moved to give thanks for the safe trip we had and I asked everyone to say a prayer of thanksgiving with me. It was at that moment I heard Him whisper, "see, I said yes again." I thought of the prayers we had said 16 hours earlier asking for a safe passage and realized that yes indeed He does say "yes" far more than "no". The problem is that I am far less observant and thankful than I should be when He does say "yes".

As I write this I can think of hundreds of little prayers offered to God and the positive answers He gave. I am ashamed that I went on my merry way, like the other 9 lepers, not returning to thank Him each and every time. I pray for the grace to be more thankful. We all prayed for good results from Catherine's tests and that she wouldn't need Chemo, He said "yes".

God says "yes" far more often than He says "no" but I must retrain myself to see these little miracles and answers to prayer. He says "no" because He loves me and has a better plan for my life and the lives of those entrusted to me. God, give me the grace to be more thankful for both your "yes" and your "no".

Another Boy's Day Out

I took my 4 boys and the neighbor boy out for some hiking and other things today. Here are the results....

The local park has a play area that is every boy's dream (even grown-up boys can play on this set).
Rock climbing wall.

Not too high.

Trying out the macro on my new camera.

The CREW. I made $50 today because I made everyone who said, "wow, five boys, you really have your hands full", give me $5.

Conkle's Hollow

...on the trail...

Super hikers.

...one more...

The end of the trail.

From the end of Conkle's Hollow looking back toward the trail.

Cave men, look closely...

Our last stop was Ash Cave.

I was very hesitant to let them run ahead among the rocks but it was late in the day so my resistance was worn down.

The CREW at Ash Cave.

Happy Birthday to Catherine!!!!

Hard to believe it's been one year since you were born. We all love you so much. Read Catherine's story here.

A note from St. John Bosco

A note from St. John Bosco that those who are fathers will do well to meditate upon.

First of all, if we wish to appear concerned about the true happiness of our foster children and if we would move them to fulfil their duties, you must never forget that you are taking the place of the parents of these beloved young people. I have always laboured lovingly for them, and carried out my priestly duties with zeal. And the whole Salesian society has done this with me.

My sons, in my long experience very often I had to be convinced of this great truth. It is easier to become angry than to restrain oneself, and to threaten a boy than to persuade him. Yes, indeed, it is more fitting to be persistent in punishing our own impatience and pride than to correct the boys. We must be firm but kind, and be patient with them.

I give you as a model the charity of Paul which he showed to his new converts. They often reduced him to tears and entreaties when he found them lacking docility and even opposing his loving efforts.

See that no one finds you motivated by impetuosity or willfulness. It is difficult to keep calm when administering punishment, but this must be done if we are to keep ourselves from showing off our authority or spilling out our anger.

Let us regard those boys over whom we have some authority as our own sons. Let us place ourselves in their service. Let us be ashamed to assume an attitude of superiority. Let us not rule over them except for the purpose of serving them better.

This was the method that Jesus used with the apostles. He put up with their ignorance and roughness and even their infidelity. He treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalised, and still others to hope for God’s mercy. And so he bade us to be gentle and humble of heart. They are our sons, and so in correcting their mistakes we must lay aside all anger and restrain it so firmly that it is extinguished entirely.

There must be no hostility in our minds, no contempt in our eyes, no insult on our lips. We must use mercy for the present and have hope for the future, as is fitting for true fathers who are eager for real correction and improvement.

In serious matters it is better to beg God humbly than to send forth a flood of words that will only offend the listeners and have no effect on those who are guilty

Confession: The true Golden Compass

On Saturday we will be celebrating our eldest son's First Confession. It is a joyful occasion that we are all looking forward to. For the first time he will experience the tender compassion of our God is a concrete, sacramental way.

This morning I was praying as I prepared for work and I asked God what sort of gift I should give Anthony for this event. I had been planning on going to the local Catholic bookstore to look for something, I don't know what. After I asked about the gift I simply heard, "a compass."

I thought for a moment that maybe I have been reading too much manly stuff lately and it was spilling over into my prayers. I thought it would be a good gift but, is it practical, will he use it, will it just get lost in the bottom of the toy box? I mean, after all he is only 7 years old. The answer was persistent. A Compass.

As I drove to work I asked again and the answer was the same. So, I detoured my path and stopped at Kmart to find a compass. As I pulled into the parking lot it dawned on me to ask, "why, why a compass?" The answer was simple. If you are lost, you need something that can point you in the right direction. Being in sin is the same as being lost. If you are in sin, you have lost your bearings and direction. Confession is the compass that can point you back in the right direction, toward True North, toward Christ. Once you go to Confession, you have your bearings back and you can continue on your journey toward Christ.

I bought a nice compass and then stopped at the Catholic bookstore for another gift that I know he will love too. It is a book by Andrew and Lenora Lang, The Book of Saints and Heroes and from glancing through it, it appears to be a book that will excite the heart and imagination of any boy. The cover alone is enough to excite a boy's heart! A compass to remind him to always follow Christ and have recourse to Confession, and a book about those men and women who used that compass often seem to me to be great gifts for this young boy entering the journey of a lifetime.