I Don't Want Any Plastics!

Like many families, the Smiths sit down each Christmas season and watch the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life” with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. By now we are able to recite most of the lines from the movie by memory.

It’s what I call an “anchor” movie – one that reminds you not to drift away from the important things in life. Many men can relate to George Bailey’s desire to shake off the dirt of this crummy old place and seek great adventure. After all, we cannot be stifled by the old “Building and Loan” of our lives. We have dreams. We must pursue the desires of our heart.

“Now you listen to me! I don't want any plastics! I don't want any ground floors, and I don't want to get married — ever — to anyone! You understand that? I want to do what I want to do.”

And no sooner than George blurts out the desire of his heart, he gives in to that siren call of Mary Hatch and wrecks on the rocks of commitment, unfulfilling work, and family stress. He evolves from a dreamer of adventure and achievement to a settled life of discontent. As one child after another is born into the Bailey household the pressures mount and his dreams fade. The spark in his eye is gone.

I used to have dreams. They are now dead.

Don’t get me wrong. I have lead an amazing life and am thankful for every opportunity I’ve been granted. I have been in the presence of presidents and kings. I have traveled to foreign lands where I have been treated to great hospitality. I have rubbed elbows with celebrities, business leaders and the wealthy. I have fought battles for great causes and know the taste of victory and defeat. It has been a good and rewarding life. But there is often the temptation to focus on what we have not done and do not have instead of the blessings. It is the curse of discontentment.

I used to have dreams. They are now dead.

I can relate to the elation of George lassoing a stork. I’ve lassoed a stork five times. My children have provided me with a stew of joy, pain, inconvenience and fulfillment. When we added the third child to our brood, Karen and I had to switch from man-to-man defense to a zone defense. It wasn’t easy. They were noisy, messy and difficult to control.

We also endured the regular comments from friends with fewer or no children. We made choices which ensured that our lives would be full of inconvenience, uncertainty and chaos. Four of our five children are now adults. So far they show no signs of lasting damage, despite God putting them in the care of two totally unprepared parents. Actually, other than their weird behavior and strange social skills, they function adequately. I’ll take that as a success story.

They can also be a pain in the neck. When I was 21 years old I knew I wanted children, but I did not bargain for the ongoing struggles. One man with younger children asked me recently, “When do you stop parenting?” I’m sure he was looking for any words of encouragement that someday in the future he would be relieved of duty. I told him that the choice was up to him. Many fathers never start parenting. Others stop parenting long before their children are ready to lead a rudderless life. I told him that I personally had decided to never stop parenting my children. Although my parenting will go through stages, I never plan to disengage. Even when my children form their own families, I’ll be there to annoy them with unwanted advice and counsel. It is my destiny.

Speaking of destiny, you’ve got to wonder if Alfalfa was disappointed that his acting career descended to the point that Zuzu had a larger role in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. But I digress.

Harry Bailey had fame. Henry Potter had fortune. Yet, George Bailey became the “richest” man in town. I’ve been into genealogy for the past few years. I enjoy studying my ancestors and the legacy they have passed along. It’s an interesting list of saints and scoundrels. I’ve visited more than a few cemeteries in my search for answers. One thing is clear: the engraved words on their tombstones eventually fade into nothing. The lesson of George Bailey’s visit to the cemetery is penetrating - an individual’s impact on the lives of others wins out over words etched in stone. Our legacy to our children and grandchildren should not be measured in dollars, degrees and deeds.

Sometimes it is hard to focus on the bigger things in life when you are changing diapers, cutting coupons and trying to keep your car on the road. Families with lots of kids can seem to live on the ragged edge. There is often disorder. They are regularly late and often seem frazzled. Who would want that kind of life? You call that a happy family? Why did they have to have all those kids? Those stinking kids have a way of messing with your life don’t they?

I used to have dreams. They are now dead.
But, let me share the rest of the story. I have new dreams. I have better dreams. The desires of my heart have changed. I am still not the husband or father that I should be, but I have no doubts about my desire to get there.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” is cheesy and sentimental. As the whole town, sans Potter, crowds into George and Mary’s home to dump dollar bills and coins onto the table, with Cousin Eustace furiously punching the calculator, we are tempted to think of the joy associated with having loyal friends who help us meet our needs. While that is certainly part of the message, I always find the greater joy from the moments before the display of generosity from family and friends. It is the moment that George “gets it” – the moment the lightbulb goes off in his foggy brain. It is the moment of clarity. The beauty comes when his least concern is the money, the jail cell or the tarnished reputation. It is when he pleads for God to return his life and family to him. It is the joy that enables him to run through the streets of Bedford Falls in uncontrolled joy – even with the knowledge that he is about to be arrested on false charges of embezzlement. For me, the joy is most evident when he runs into his home and is met by the sheriff, whom George greets with, “I bet you're here to arrest me, I'm going to jail, isn't it wonderful!” It’s when his children swarm him on the staircase as he smothers them with hugs and kisses - the furthest thing from his mind being gifts, money and iron bars.

In one evening George Bailey is transformed from a man who asks “You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?” to a man desperate for their embrace.

It has always been revealing to see the snow begin to fall when George stops appealing to Clarence the angel and prays for God to let him live again. As we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, our true anchor, my wish for my friends and family is that you will truly live again. That your old dreams are replaced with better dreams – even if the change brings pain and struggle. I pray that the desire of our hearts turns from self to others. May you see clearly. May you see that you really have a wonderful life.

Listen to Gretchen

A few moments in the life of three sisters – Sue, Lou and Gretchen

Sue: What do you want to do?
Lou: I don’t know.
Gretchen: Let’s watch a movie.
Sue: Do you want to play dress-up?
Lou: That sounds like fun.
Sue: Let’s act like we’re princesses in an ancient castle.
Lou: Yeah! And we’re waiting for a handsome prince to rescue us from the evil knight!
Gretchen: Wanna watch a movie?
Lou: We need some veils and headbands!
Sue: Go get some of mom’s high heels.
Lou: Okay.

Lou runs to their mother’s bedroom and returns with two pairs of shoes.

Gretchen: What movie do you want to watch?
Sue: I’ll wear the pink dress and you wear the blue one.
Lou: Here are some white gloves.
Gretchen: We haven’t seen The Wizard of Oz for a long time.
Sue: We can’t be princesses without some makeup.
Lou: Oh, let me have some of that lipstick.
Sue: You should put on some extra eyeliner.
Lou: I’m sooooo pretty! Look at me, I’m a princess!
Sue: Marvelous, we are most beautiful. Where is our prince?
Gretchen: I’m hungry. Want something to eat?
Lou: Sue, you pretend that you’re crying because you miss our father, the good King Arthur.
Sue: Boo hoo. I miss my father, the good King Arthur.
Gretchen: How about some pudding?
Lou: Don’t worry Princess Sue, I know some shining knight will save us.
Sue: Boo hoo boo hoo. But I miss our father, the good King Arthur.
Gretchen: I can poke myself in the eye. Look!
Lou: Please don’t cry, everything will be all right as soon as the handsome knight saves us.
Sue: How do we know he is handsome?
Lou: Look out the castle window. He is down there hiding in a bush.
Gretchen: I bet if you tried to put a potato in your ear it would hurt.
Sue: Oh, I see him. He is handsome.
Lou: And he will be my husband.
Sue: Your husband? Why not my husband?
Lou: Because I’m the oldest. You get to marry his younger brother, the other handsome prince.
Gretchen: Watch me run my head into the wall.
Sue: But we must first talk to our father, the good King Arthur, before we marry.
Lou: This is true. But we must first be rescued from the evil knight.
Gretchen: My head hurts.
Sue: Let’s go to the window and lower a rope so the prince can save us from this awful place.
Lou: There is no rope, we must tie these linens together.
Gretchen: I can sing. Want to hear me sing the theme from Brady Bunch?
Sue: Secure the linen rope to the closet and lower it out the window.
Lou: Done! Yoo hoo, good prince, we are ready to be rescued.
Gretchen: “Here’s the story of a lovely lady. . ..”
Sue: Princess Lou, he is climbing up the tower of the castle.
Lou: It won’t be long now.
Gretchen: “. . .the youngest one in curls.”
Sue: Here prince, come into our window and take us home.
Lou: Oh, no! The evil knight has entered with his sword.
Sue: Hurry prince, the knight is going to cut the linen rope!
Gretchen: Cindy Brady was a dork.
Lou: Jump on the knight while I pull the prince in the window.
Sue: Go away you mean knight. Wait until my father, the good King Arthur gets you. You will regret all of this stuff.
Lou: Prince it is so good to see you. You must fight the evil knight for our honor.
Gretchen: Polka dot dresses make me look fat.
Sue: They are fighting. They are fighting!
Lou: They are clashing their swords together and it’s really scary. I hope we get saved.
Gretchen: I think I just tooted.
Sue: Oh. The prince just ran his sword through the evil knight.
Lou: Oh no. The evil knight just ran his sword through the prince.
Sue: They’re both dead.
Gretchen: Look I’m dead.
Lou: Someone is knocking on the castle door.
Sue: Who could it be?
Lou: It sounds like the knock of our father.
Sue: You mean our father, the good King Arthur?
Gretchen: I’m alive now, no need to cry.
Lou: Father! We are so happy to see you.
Sue: We love you good King Arthur.
Gretchen: When I’m not near the boy I love, I love the boy I’m near!
Lou: I’m bored. Let’s play something else.
Sue: I’m bored too, what do you want to do?
Lou: I don’t know, what do you want to do?
Sue: Want to play with Gretchen?
Gretchen: Hey, want to play with me?
Lou: I don’t know. How about riding our bikes?
Sue: That sounds like fun.
Lou: Mom, told us we needed to walk the dog.
Sue: Let’s take Champ on a leash while we ride our bikes.
Lou: Good idea.
Gretchen: I wonder what dog meat tastes like?
Sue: Gretchen! How dare you talk about Champ like that?!
Lou: You are one sick girl, Gretchen!
Gretchen: It tastes like chicken.

A Burden To My Children

I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve decided that I want to be a burden on my children when I get old and feeble. When I get to the point that I’m having trouble caring for myself, either physically or financially, I want to move in with one of the kids. I’m assuming, of course, that Karen will be too old or feeble to help me out, so she would have to move in also. It would be our version of Grandpa and Grandma Walton. I always thought that scenario was great. Grandpa and Grandma moving in with ma and pa and lots of kids. Very cool.

Many of my friends say that they would not want to be a burden on their children. That’s a selfless sentiment with noble motives. I’m sure they will be happy playing cards at the retirement village and waiting for the next Elvis impersonator to roll into the cafeteria. However, I prefer to be a burden.

I know you may be thinking that I am being selfish, but I’m actually thinking of my kids and grandkids. My presence in the lives of my descendants would teach them patience, tolerance, compassion, sacrifice, frugality and perseverance. So, I would actually be doing them a big favor by building their character.

What if my kids couldn’t afford to keep me in their home? I really don’t care. I couldn’t afford them either. And what about the things they would have to do to take care of me? Do we really need to go there? I remember several precious moments involving little ones throwing food on the floor, spitting up on my suit and the diaper stories are too graphic to detail. I’ll let them put me in a facility only if they are not physically able to care for my medical needs. Other than that, I plan to create some stress and turmoil in their lives. It should be great fun.

I’ve already shared this with my children. They love me and are fighting over who gets to house me in that time of sharing. I’m not sure yet who I would most like to live with. I’d like to see them enter into a bidding war. Menu selections? Cable television? Walk-in private shower? Allowance? If I live to experience this wonderful time, I plan to milk it for all it’s worth – all to build my offspring’s character. At this time, I don’t know who I will give the honor of caring for me in their home, but I do expect all of my children to care for me. Even those who might live far away should be sending large monthly checks to supplement my meager Social Security check.

Since I am already losing my hearing I figure I can have some great fun with that particular disability. Sometimes I will hear them. Other times I won’t. “Speak louder so Grandpa can hear you.” I want a bunch of little children yelling how much they love me. Is that selfish? Not at all. I’ll still roll on the ground and play with them, and then they can build their strength by helping me back into my wheelchair.

My kids were a great burden – a burden that gave me the greatest joys in life. Yes, I will return the blessing.

Spooky Standards

When I was a kid I loved Halloween. In high school our Campus Life (Youth for Christ) group sponsored "Scream in the Dark," an annual haunted house. I was a featured monster or ghoulish character every year. The first year I was Dr. Frankenstein and the second year I was a dying man at the end of a hangman’s noose. The third year I was Strobe Man. As Strobey, I wore a black and white striped uniform and had black and white striped makeup to match my black and white striped room. A strobe light flashed as I jumped around in the room scaring the wits out of young and old alike. It freaked them out because one second I was behind them and the next minute I was in their face. I was so good at being Strobey that the patrons voted me "Monster of the Year". Of course, when you excel at something people want you to do it again. So, in my senior year of high school I reprised the role of Strobe Man. One night a group of big college boys came into my strobe room. I sent such a fright into one of the guys that he yelled out, "Get him!!" Fortunately for me I knew a back way out.

When I was a young boy my dad worked the night shift. My mom loved to watch a local late night television program hosted by Sammy Terry, a ghoulish character who introduced scary B movies. Whenever mom would suddenly want company she would wake me up to join her for an evening of terror. But I thought it was cool. At seven years old I was protecting my mother.

Not participating in Halloween was never an option. We sent our first three kids out into Candy Night for a few years before we decided to stop worshipping Satan.

Did that comment make you feel bad? Then you must celebrate Halloween. Or, perhaps you don’t celebrate Halloween but you’re just really tolerant of those who do and think I was too judgmental to say such a thing. Ok, I really didn’t mean it.

Our family standard is pretty strict and pretty loose. We are so oppressive over the lives of our children that they sometimes they cannot breath. And there is no doubt that they have too much freedom and get to do way too much. I don’t want them watching a violent movie unless I like it. Undecipherable lyrics in a song? No way. Take off the headset. Well, maybe my parents didn’t understand the words to "Bohemian Rhapsody," but seriously, we all know they really didn’t try.

Some families have fun at Halloween. Some, like my family, have decided it’s not our cup of tea or toad’s brew in this case. Other families have decided that it’s not just bad, but an opportunity for ministry. That’s great. Although we don’t dress up and go out, we usually go to some harvest party, fall bonfire or human sacrifice of some sort. Not really. This Halloween I bought four bags of candy just in case we had some trick-or-treaters. But nobody came by. Drats. I have to eat four bags of candy. I think the neighbors have told their kids to stay away from "Old Man Smith’s house" cause he’s a wacky religious guy and he’ll hit you with his Bible if you ring his doorbell.

I think it would be fun one Halloween to dress up like Martin Luther and terrify children by yelling "REPENT!" at them. But that would probably be too much fun for one night.

Back to standards. I think standards are a good thing. We have chosen to live on the fringe of society, but hopefully in the center of God’s will. Not because we are holier than thou or really pretty (although sometimes I can look amazing in a tux). It’s just that we’ve found our place for now and keep looking for the place to be. My friends who have no television in their home and only read the Holy Bible or listen to orchestral renditions of "Amazing Grace" make me feel guilty. I know I could be like that, but I’m just not that mature yet. I am still finding victory when I turn off the movie after I’ve heard "too much cursing." I’m still trying to determine if too much cursing is two or twenty vulgar references. This is where my guilt-inducing friends would say, "One swear word is too much". I know that, I was just kidding. One swear word is too much.

Is a dotted line still a line?

Don’t get all condemning thinking that I don’t have high standards. I have very high standards now and then. Before you look down your nose at me, don’t forget that I know most of you and I know that if I say, "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of …" you can probably finish the line. So don’t get all uppity with me.

Should I stop getting a Christmas tree? I totally understand its pagan origins, but there is something endearing about that little angel we pop on top of our pagan pine every year.

We home school and force our kids to go through a ridiculous courting ritual if they think they have found that special someone. We also don’t let our children post their phone numbers and home address on the internet with messages about being single and looking for a good time. I know they just mean they are looking for friends to play a mean game of Monopoly with them, but excuse me if I’m too strict, I have some concerns here.

Do we make people feel guilty because we have outrageous standards? I hope so. It makes me feel better about all those goody-two-shoes who make me look like a moral midget. Although, I do like listening to teachings that stretch me beyond my comfort zone. It’s encouraging to know that I have so much room to grow.

Hey, I will not judge the Christian sister who watches Oprah, the queen of the new pantheism, nor will I look down upon the Christian brother who belts out "I’ve Got Friends In Low Places" with Garth Brooks in the safety of his car. So, don’t judge me if I watch "American Idol" or "Dancing with the Stars". But you can judge me if I watch Jerry Springer. Actually, if you find out I’m watching Jerry Springer, just kill me now.

Did you know some churches don’t allow singing? Did you know some churches don’t allow musical instruments? Did you know some churches don’t have any fun?

Ok, that’s a different ramble for another time.

Elvis was a professing Christian who sang gospel songs at his concerts between his renditions of "Love Me Tender" and "Jailhouse Rock". He died from a drug overdose and I just read that his daughter, Lisa Marie, went to a psychic and made contact with him. She said it was overwhelming and comforting. I’m not sure what this has to do with anything, but I think there is something about conflicting standards in there someplace.

I think the only thing to feel guilty about regarding Thanksgiving is gluttony. We thank the Lord for his abundance and then we abundantly gorge ourselves. I’m starting to feel guilty about that, but not enough to stop eating. Maybe if we started carving turkeys like jack-o-lanterns it would be easier to see the evil in it.

Speaking of standards, I have a 22-year-old daughter. Should I let her drive a car? Automobiles are very dangerous and I’m not sure if she can handle it. I have an Amish friend who says "NO!"

I did draw a line in the sand when the youth pastor in our old church wanted to have an overnight Halloween party in the church basement. They were going to watch horror movies like "Children of the Corn". When I asked him how he could possibly do such a thing he said that I was being too strict and that if I didn’t let my kids have some fun they would grow up to resent me and rebel against my tyrannical ways. He was right that they resent me and rebel against me, but I think it has more to do with my not letting them out of the cellar until noon.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Back to Halloween. I hope you had a great Halloween or Happy Harvest Day or Happy Saint Hugo Day or whatever you call it in your family. We had fun watching an old Martin and Lewis comedy while we wondered why nobody comes to our door anymore seeking free candy. May your days be filled with the joy of knowing that the standards you set for you and yours are pleasing to God, even if they are not the same standards as other believers.

Don’t get me wrong. We should all strive for the highest standard, but in reality most of us really never meet it or even try that hard. I just want to make sure that I do what the Holy Spirit convicts me to do. I want to be sensitive to His leading. You know that question, "Would you be watching this movie if Jesus were sitting here with you?" I think that is a trick question to some degree, because I wouldn’t even be reading my Bible if Jesus were sitting here with me. I’d be worshipping Him and rejoicing in His very real presence. I certainly wouldn’t say, "Lord, would you like to watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ with me?" Even though it is my favorite movie and very wholesome.

Bottom line: Don’t get comfortable with your standards. Look to friends who have standards that are uplifting and don’t seem too suppressive. One of the greatest paradoxes of the Christian walk is that through our submission we find freedom. It’s really not that hard to use the same principle when setting standards for you and your family.

And don’t do drugs, unless, they are prescribed by a doctor. Then that is ok.

It's Hopeless

In junior high school I was forced to read "Lord of the Flies" - not to be confused with "Lord of the Dance". One is a depressing book about boys turning into savages and the other is a riveting stage show with many well-conditioned artists dancing without moving their arms. But I am off topic now."Lord of the Flies" was shocking to my little soul, but soon I was required to read "Man's Search for Meaning" by Frankl. It had the same shocking effect, but in a less entertaining way. The significant ponderings of a man who survived the Holocaust and came to no conclusions in his search for meaning in life.

I was then punished as a freshman in high school with Paul Ehrlich's "The Population Bomb" which taught me that by 1990 life would cease to exist on earth because we all would run out of food and die from disease. Of course according to the author we could save ourselves from the overpopulation problem by forced abortions and sterilizations and other methods of self-extermination. I hope we're still here in 1990.

I then went to my psychology class where I participated in a small group project called Lifeboat. I had to decide who to throw out of the lifeboat. Due to lack of food I had to throw out the beautiful actress, the doctor, the fat girl, the retarded boy or the elderly man. I chose the doctor so there would be no real competition for the affections of the actress. But I did feel kind of guilty imagining the doctor floating away.

In the 1970's I also was taught in school that we were entering a new Ice Age and that unless we acted soon a new massive glacier would come down from the north and freeze us to death - or something like that. I'm really glad that 30 years later it is Global Warming that will wipe us out because I prefer heat to cold.

One thing is for certain - when the Iraqis set fire to the Kuwaiti oil fields in the 1990's it caused massive global disruption of the climate due to the smoke clouds blocking the sun and polluting the environment. I hope we survive that one.

In elementary school I was trained how to protect myself from a nuclear attack from Russia by sitting under my desk with my head between my knees.

I saw a program the other day about this meteor that could crash into the earth and kill us all. It was pretty scary. I wonder what would happen if it crashes into the North Pole.

And don't get me started on black holes. Those things are just creepy.

Did you know that on January 1, 2000 computers around the world will shut down and the entire electrical and utility grid will come to a halt? I'm convinced. Well, I did buy a few gallons of distilled water just in case.

If Barack Obama is elected President I do not know what calamities will befall this country, but I've lived through the destruction of the planet several times in my life and I can do it again. You ask me "how?" Well, I do not put my trust in man - even the really smart ones. I even lived through 8 years of Bill Clinton's presidency.

Don't worry. I've read the final chapter. God rules over the affairs of man and during times like these we have an opportunity to live out what we say we believe.

If Obama is sworn in next January I'm tempted to just sit and watch 4 to 8 years of "The Andy Griffith Show" reruns. But I know that I will drag my sorry self to the frontlines of the battle because in the end we are called to do our duty and trust in Him for the results.