Concealed Weapons

My eleven-year old son was busted last week for possession of a concealed weapon at school. Okay, technically it was not a weapon but a “Leatherman” — a Swiss Army type utility featuring:

A. Knife
B. Nail Cleaner
C. Nail File
D. Medium Screwdriver
E. Scissors
F. Tweezers
G. Extra Small Screwdriver
H. Bottle Opener
I. Lanyard Attachment
J. Phillips Screwdriver
K. Ruler

Copied straight from the Leatherman User’s Guide, knife tops the list. And in most books, knife = pointed implement with sharp blade for cutting = weapon.

Back in the old days, back in the 20th Century, lots of boys carried pocketknives; some men still do. It was a “boy thing,” like a union card, handy for camping, fishing, just about anything a boy would want to do, including sordid activities probably involving small animals that I (not a boy) would know nothing about. Today, of course, you can’t take a pocketknife much anywhere—not airplanes, concerts, football games, and not to school, which is why and where Quinn was busted.

It was a playground supervisor who discovered Quinn with his nifty, hand-dandy, all-purpose Leatherman companion. The contraband item was confiscated. He had a little chat with his teacher, another little one with the grade level supervisor, and a BIG one with his parents who had to write a note before he could return to school.

I was livid…
My son said it was an accident, he didn’t remember he had it in his pocket until he got to school, yada-yada-yada. But how could he, I thought? I tried to tell myself that it was a common enough occurrence, even a rite of passage among parents. But having successfully helped two offspring survive childhood without incident (and particularly this kind of incident), this took me by surprise.

I told myself that countless parents over hundreds of generations have had to talk to their children about not bringing that knife, javelin, tomahawk, blow gun, slingshot, those nunchucks, cherry bombs, poison darts, and ninja stars to school. I stood at the end of a long line of parents who penned notes on papyrus sheets, rice paper scrolls, stone tablets, animal hides, banana leaves, personal letterhead, scraps of lined folder paper, and Post-It Notes saying “My child has told me about the incident and will not bring the contraband article to school again. Please permit him to return to school.” Once more, I am not alone. Or as one friend put it, “Welcome to the other world of parenting.”

Leatherman in the Hand of God
…or God Always Has Something to Say
My son was carrying a concealed weapon, but don’t we all? I’m not talking about guns slung low on our hips, knives buried in our pockets, or bombs strapped to our waists, but much worse. In our hearts we carry secret arsenals and accumulated "Weapons of Mass Destruction." Jesus said:
For from within, out of men's hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. [Mark7:21-22 ]

You don’t need to be a Christian to admit Jesus is right. We all conceal weapons: anger, jealousy, hate, long-held grudges, unforgiveness. We stab with sarcastic comebacks, shoot down opponents with smirks and sneers, launch campaigns of condemnation. We put down others and keep them underfoot with prideful arrogance, trap them with half-truth lies, gossip, and slander. We disdainfully dismiss and demean those we hate—and even those we claim to love.

Sticks and Stones…
We hide our weapons, but Jesus talked about them openly. Long before someone marketed the questionable rhyme, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me,” Jesus plainly warned us about the impact of our words. In Matthew 5, he says:
You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, 'Raca,' is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell. [Mt 7:21-22]

…and Other Matters of the Heart
And then, there is the imagination. Our ability to envision the unseen, project the possibilities, and fantasize the future can be a powerfully creative tool. But it easily becomes dangerous and destructive when it becomes “I”-Magination— discontent that feeds on “I, Mine, and My.” In Jesus’s words:
You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.' But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. [Mt 5:27-28]

Jesus is not just talking to men here. Women, ‘fess up. There’s a reason for the popularity of television’s “Desperate Housewives.” It’s called lust, ladies. Don’t tell me you take the kids to “Pirates of the Carribean” because it’s Disney when you really mean Depp (Johnny Depp).

Opt In/ Opt Out
Most of us can’t fathom it possible to live without shooting off several rounds of ammunition every day. Self-defense, we say. I’m hurting so bad already, why let someone have an in on my wounded heart. No one’s going to protect me unless I protect myself. Might as well get them before they get me.

But why get them at all? Last one standing might win the game, but, really, who wants to be left standing alone? There is another way. God says to us in Psalm 91:
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."
Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
Read the complete Psalm 91

God can and will protect us. He covers us, not just with a shield or armaments, but with his very self. Jesus took the bullet for us, stood in the way of everything wanting to harm us when he sacrificed his life, his life for ours. And he faithfully—without fail, without hesitation— stands between us and destruction.

What I Learned
Quinn and his Leatherman were found out. I’m glad because it was right that he not take it to school. I’m also glad because when he was found out, so was I. His small pocketknife made me search the pockets of my heart and admit my own concealed weapons. Complete disarmament will take a while, but I’m starting one Leatherman at a time.

Other helpful scripture
Luke 12:2-7

Jesus and Making a Fresh Start

Home Alone

In the classic 1990s holiday comedy film, “Home Alone,” the family inadvertently departs on Christmas vacation without 8-year old Kevin. Home alone, Kevin has the run of the house, the time of his life and ends up the hero when he foils two burglars who have their eyes on the family home. Not so for me. In my recent personal Home Alone experience, I did not have the time of my life and did not end up a hero. I did have the run of the house, and that was the problem.

Everyone but 11-year old son Quinn had flown the coop. Older son Dylan had sayonara-ed west for school in Japan, daughter Noelle had flown east to study in London, and husband Dan had bid adieu for California. After the clatter and clutter of a revolving-door summer, of kids coming and going, and never knowing exactly who was home at any given moment, the house stood still. I stared into my first night of massive quiet in months.

I had been looking forward to this. I could restore law and order, clean up, clear out. Mine, all mine! I could have it My Way. Queen me. I had the crown, scepter, title, power, full reign. Yes!

But there was a problem: I was Home Alone (except for Quinn who was dead asleep, smart kid). That meant everything I wanted—pick up that sock, throw out those newspapers, run the laundry, answer the phone, turn off the light, straighten, sort, save, shut, shimmy—had to be done by me.

Bummers
No one to order around. No one coming back later. No one to delegate to with a strategically-placed note. If anything had to be done, I had to do it. My wish was my command. Was that good news?

With my all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful presence constantly looking over my shoulder, breathing down my neck, holding my feet to the fire …I found myself getting pickier and pickier, more demanding, less merciful. The Queen in me left no stone unturned. The Slave in me shuddered at my every glance.

“A receipt. It needs to be put away. I can decide where to put it later. Yes, but it will stay there until you do. Not going anywhere until you do. Will be there every time you look until you do. Do it now, now, now….”

But it wasn’t just one receipt. I noticed everything. In the middle of one task, I’d order Me to do another. Trying to keep up by multi-tasking only tore me in multiple directions. Couldn’t stop to write a list: my orders to Me were coming too fast. By the end of the evening, I was exhausted, frustrated, mad at myself. I put Slave and Queen to bed, and next morning fled for another kingdom.

What I Learned
1. A Math Lesson
Alone = 1.
Count it. Go figure.
No matter how powerful I feel, One raised to the umpteenth power (1n) still equals One.

2. A Management Lesson
Queen for a Day morphs quickly into Slave for the Night— a promotion and demotion all in one. Better to step down quickly before one or both of me gets killed.

3. A Music Lesson
Three Dog Night was right. One is the loneliest number. [Lyrics for "One” sung by Three Dog Night]

Bottom line
Doing the Home Alone thing and trying to run your life will ruin your life. We just don’t know how to manage ourselves. The Queen in Me can’t cut it, and the King in you will be a killjoy. We all need help, direction, guidance, perspective. Moreover, we need to be willing to accept help, take direction, receive guidance, change our perspective.

My recent Home Alone episode was a miserable failure; but I learned something. I am never alone, will never be long left to my own devices because I have invited Jesus Christ to be a part of my life, into my heart, into my home. He saves me every time from my good intentions gone bad, and my bad ones that were never going to be good.

One of my husband Dan’s mentors, Dr. Robert Munger, wrote a college talk, later published as a booklet called “My Heart, Christ’s Home.” He describes what happens when we choose to give up The Kingdom of Me and ask Jesus Christ to live with us.

If you have not invited Jesus into your home, your heart, please consider it. He’s saved me from myself, is showing me how to manage and not mangle my most important and treasured relationships, given me security, joy, peace, adventure. He has given me and all who welcome him a home in this life and one in Eternity.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take out the trash.

READ "MY HEART, CHRIST'S HOME"
Buy "MY HEART, CHRIST'S HOME"

To Cry or Not to Cry

Okay, so I was going to write a whole blog about:

• The Pros and Cons of Crying
• When Is It Okay to Cry; When Is It Not?
• Criteria for Good Crying
• Why Some Women Don't Cry; Why Some Don't Stop
• Why Some Men Cry, and What's NOT Wrong With That
• Sentimentality Has Its Limits
• Cry Because It Feels Good
• Don't Cry If You're Trying to Manipulate Me
  

and finally:

• The Thinking Person's Guide to Crying

I even started writing. But it was taking too long because I was thinking too much—and crying in between because I kept thinking about how much I missed my children after they left for college. Thinking made me cry, and crying made me think.

What I learned
Don't think about it.

Beginnings and Ends

Labor Day
Labor Day signals the start of a new season, and you can almost smell it. This Labor Day began a new season for Dan and me. On Labor Day, Monday of this week, Dan and I sent our older son Dylan off to school. Not down the street as we have each fall for the last 13 years, but across the Pacific to study Japanese for a year at Nanzan University in Nagoya, Japan.

Saw it coming…
We spent eighteen years getting ready for this. I saw it coming the day he was born. I knew that some day he would walk away with or without our approval, with or without looking back— without US, and we would have to let him go. So I did my darnedest to prepare him, get him ready, show him the way, let him practice, and on that day which he would own, trust him with it.

…Or maybe not; or And I thought watching him learn to drive was hard
Watching him go through the airport security gates was the moment my parenting was all about. Everything up to now—helping him stand, walk, run—was so that he could not only walk away but also find his way home.

But this was harder than I thought, the hardest thing yet. Every day of his life, no matter where he went, I knew I’d see him in his bed at the end of the day—or as a teen see him at least the next day. But before he left Monday morning, he cleaned his room, neatly put everything away in its place, smoothed the bedcover as if to say there would be no messy bed tomorrow morning, no clutter on his desk to return to, no stream of hip-hop, J-pop, jazz or classical music coming from his bedroom. He had packed up, taken care of things just the way his mom would want him to.

The last hug
Saying goodbye, I wanted to pull him closer; it would be a while before I could hug my boy, now my young man. But you can’t pull them too close when you should be letting go. You can’t say “Stay,” when you need to say “Go! You're ready for this. Go for it.”

Dan and I fought back tears, not letting the other know. Which is just as well. For the last hug came from Dylan, long after we saw him disappear beyond the security gates, long after we got into our car and drove away.

Dylan had left his hug at home in a card Dan found on his pillow. Reading it, it was impossible to hold back the tears. He said how much he loved us, how thankful and appreciative he was. He wrote to his sister Noelle and his little brother Quinn that he would always be their loving brother. His was the last hug, one we will hold on to for a long time.

Beginning again
Dylan's leaving feels like a leg was knocked off a three-legged stool. You can't help but miss it, and it's near impossible to balance on just two legs—unless you keep walking, unless you decide to not just sit but keep walking into the future.

I realize that's what my relationship with Christ is all about—being able to go forward "with a future and a hope," as God says in Jeremiah 29:11. With Christ, I never have to worry about the steadiness of my own two legs because I'm walking with Him. I can brave new worlds, dare beyond the limited understanding of my capabilities, be adventurous— not because I trust in myself but because I have confidence in Jesus Christ whom I follow.

So I begin again and again and again, one foot in front of the other, always beginning, never ending. Good luck, Dylan, God speed. We've got a great future that lies ahead.

coming next: to cry or not to cry