When I was nine, my dad rescued a pile of bricks from a historic building that was being demolished in downtown Fargo. He dumped them on our driveway, and these bricks became a summer project for my family and all the neighborhood kids.
Our job was to chip the old mortar off the bricks. The pile was enormous and, for those who have never done it, whittling old mortar off bricks is about as much fun as removing stubborn wallpaper. With hours of free child labor, we eventually transformed the useless pile of rubble into the makings of a beautiful floor-to-ceiling fireplace.
This project is just one of my dad’s many creative teaching tools. Through it, I learned the value of helping others with crummy jobs, saw trash transformed into treasure, and gutted through hours of mundane work to experience the satisfaction of a stunning final product.
I have an amazing father, and so do my kids. Our bedroom is littered with love notes for my husband from our daughter. As soon as she could scrawl together words, she began tucking notes under his pillow that were signed, “scrit admrir.”
Every good dad brings his own unique gifts to his children. But universally, dads fill a number of roles that are vital to our kids and communities.
Dads are a child’s first supreme authority figure. They provide motivation to behave and perform. Growing up, I respected my mom and tried hard to treat her kindly. But my dad, I did not cross. He had very low tolerance for bad attitudes, shoddy work, or disrespect. We all wanted to please him and still do, even as adults.
My kids, like most others today, have a more informal relationship with their dad. But they know he is the leader of our family and rarely challenge his authority. They like him, want to be like him and treasure his approval.
Dads provide protection and security -- financial and physical. My dad, at nearly 80 years old, still works every day to secure a better future for everyone in my family. He has devoted his whole life to us, without complaint.
In any threat -- be it a bad blizzard, a bad recession or bad person -- we turn to our dads to pull us through safely. They can also be counted on for rowdy wrestling matches, piggy-backs to bed and occasional suspension of rules regarding bedtime, snacks, or destructive indoor games.
Finally, dads are a steady source of unconditional love. This isn’t unique to dads, of course, but as a whole, I think dads come very close to perfecting the art of loving without conditions.
They typically don’t need much recognition, encouragement or material gifts. But offer your dad respect and he will do or give you anything you need, including, if necessary, his life.
Dads are precious. If all fathers were dads to their children, our world would be a much better place. To appreciate what they do, look at the poverty, crime and hopelessness that dominate cultures where dads are largely absent.
Dads are like the bricks I cleaned as a kid. They provide a fortress of authority, protection and love that our children and communities need to grow and be healthy.
May God abundantly bless our dads.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Unlimited Minutes and Other Technology Tricks
Last week, a colleague entered my office at about 2:30 with a request. He needed 160 copies of a document that didn’t exactly exist by noon the next day. I mentally scanned all the other items on my plate and realized this was now the largest pile of potatoes. So I jumped in, serving “drop-everything” requests to at least three others in the process.
One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.
He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”
The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.
Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.
I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.
Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.
This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”
But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.
At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.
I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.
“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.
We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”
One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.
He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”
The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.
Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.
I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.
Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.
This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”
But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.
At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.
I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.
“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.
We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”