Boy Scouts of America and my own BSA

Note:  This blog post was written on June 4, 2013, the night of Troop 260's meeting and the night of Andrew and Harris's Cub Scout Recognition.

"I disagree with the Boys Scouts' decision but....."

Really?  I am listening but I am having trouble my friend, hearing you, I am listening to your compromising words, your acceptance and resignation amid your sighs and resolutions to duty...this is the way it has to be.  You don't like it but you don't see any option, any choice but to go along with the change and make the best of it.  You will somewhat vocalize your displeasure but that's all it is, displeasure. 

This my friend is much bigger than our comfort or our displeasure.

Really?  And I mean Really?  I just listened to you earlier tonight, thought hard long thoughts, tried to understand where you where coming from and all I could say to your words of:  "let's change this policy, let's show these people a better way, a different life, different morals, let's change them, let's minister.....and I am thinking, yes, let's.  Let's send our 5 year olds to the heart of Africa,

to the inner cities and small towns of this nation and tell them to minister and change a hurting godless culture.  Let's tell them to be in it but not of it.  Don't let it influence you, don't let it change you, don't accept it, don't participate, but get them all to change.  You stay the same way you are now and don't change.  How about our 8 year olds?  Our 11 year olds?

And all I can squeak out while someone is waiting for me to toss the ball of conversation back is:  "Not at the expense of my child." 

Later, I am thinking about this change.  Where does all this really take us?  What about the all the other children out there?   This is not okay at the expense of my sons, but what of other's sons?  

Is this okay at their expense?  Really?  Change is not always what it's cracked up to be.

Displeasure, a loss of comfort?  Sure, but so much more than that.  This is conviction, this is truth, this is about moral absolutes.  This, not your shocked displeasure, is what stills people, what makes them look at you like you've lost your mind.  This commitment, sense of integrity, this is where the "rubber meets the road."  Do you stand for something?  

For anything?  Do you care, or do you really really care?  

Can we all just commiserate, shake our heads and say what the old-timers used to say while they leaned back in chairs, chewing their tobacco, stained garden shirts and overalls on, worn boots, and even more worn faces, "what is this world coming to?"  Or can we all decide that what is truth is truth and that this is not about us, not about our reaction, that the time to change has come and gone, and now we are faced with a moral dilemma and we are not responding but the response has been taken away.  

We are not leaving anyone, they have left us.

If you thought this was only about slight discomfort, maybe some embarrassment, but you haven't all out wrung your hands and your heart is squeezed dry, seemingly lacking oxygen over this, then absolute morality and truth are not overflowing out of the heart being wrenched.   This decision, this mandate, this resolution is much bigger than just words.  It's the culture, it's the money, it's what makes the world go 'round, it's everything, but...but... what the Bible says.  

James Dobson of Focus on the Family used to say that the culture is like a raging river and a lot of us think we can resist the culture so we take our stand and that is what we do, we stand in the river, unmoving, refusing to go along with the raging waters of culture change, and it's not good enough.  Standing still will drag you along with the current.  But moving upstream, moving against the tide is what is tougher, that's where we can all be divided.  To not become part of the raging culture, one must continually plow against the raging waters; it's no longer enough to be still in it.  

Oh but we tell ourselves it's good enough.  We gnash our teeth, shake our heads, and say, "how could they; really?  What were they thinking?  Why are they messing with such a good organization? Why mess with these young boys and men?   How unfortunate this all is.  And we sigh.  And we sigh some more when we go home and push. this. to. the. back. of our brains in the compartment of disappointing circumstances of our lives.  But we will not look bad because of it or really admit what is going on here, no one wants to get stared at or talked about.

This is it my friend.  You take your stand one way or the other.  You can fuss and whine and in the end, try to make it all work out or you can recognize that this isn't about us anymore.  No one is pulling away, no one is leaving the Scouts, no church is disbanding their charters.  Just because we personally did not have a vote doesn't mean that now we are voting.  This decision isn't ours, it was made by others, by those who are following the almighty dollar and the culture, following the drummer of tolerance and acceptance of weakened morality and abominations of our Creator. 

In case you don't yet understand it, here again is the heart of the matter:

We are not leaving Scouts, Scouts has left us.  

Scouts has pulled away from the heart of morality, Scouting has broken with absolute truth and followed the sweet sinister song of tolerance, Scouting has abandoned the principles of right and wrong and muddied the waters, Scouting has tipped its hat towards change, Scouting has drowned out the voice of God, Scouting has left us in the murky waters, and Scouting has expected us to ride the float downstream.  Scouting has abandoned us and biblical principles, Scouting has left its roots...Scouting has left the building, the leaders, the dads, and the boys.  

There is no greater tragedy than for us, a scouting family to see this decline, this treachery.  How dare they?  Really?  At first I was sad, I shed some tears while talking and listening to my friend.  She and I explained how we felt.  I reiterated our Scouting Heritage which goes back to 1920 ~ 93 years ago, to Arthur Harold Rowe, Sr., Scott's Great-Grandfather.  

It is sorrowful but as I sorrowed I began to feel something more, something stronger.

Anger may be the best word to describe it.  Now there is a pall on everything, every event, every conversation.  I think about it tonight as 2 of my sons stand and receive their badges for the year, their belt loops, so proud, working so hard, my mind reels back to the fall and the winter when they begged me and we worked on different activities because they wanted it so much; there was a desire among them to work hard and achieve.

Scouting leaving me behind makes me downright mad, mad for these boys who will not understand at this age.  Mad for my eldest son who is an Eagle, mad he will have his ceremony amid the rubble and rousings of this.  Mad that while his work is not tainted, he will always carry this on his shoulders.  

The work and effort are his but the organization which gave him the award will not be.   This same child, whose first 3 initials are BSA.  While we did not do this purposely and only recognized the similarity later, it was rather apropos, knowing before he was born that his "Eagle father" would be taking him in a few short years to his first Cub meetings and coaching him all the way through to Eagle if that be what he desired.

I am Mad for my husband, an Eagle, mad because I see it in his eyes, he had hopes of all his sons achieving Eagle and now Scouting has let him down.  Mad because I listen to him tell his tale of while we were at one Scouting event tonight, he and BSA, our oldest, were at another, listening in a meeting, listening and responding to the efforts of some parents to take a stand and exclaim what is truth but others saying that this should all be for the boys and that we should move on and accept this and try to change it.  There's that word again.  I am mad at that word.  The time to change has come and gone!  Did you try to change when the Board was meeting?  Did you call?  Did you send emails?  Did you write?  Did you sign petitions?  One of the Executive Committee members I have never met, but have had conversations with on the phone, he was against this change.  Quite the successful billionaire, he was a strong Christian.  He went onto his eternal reward in April.  I'm glad he's not here to see this.  He knew his money was temporal; he didn't take it with him, but he took his conviction and his willingness to stand against a change, a harmful one.  He had what mattered, a heart and mind solely after the Lord, solely after what is right, he knew the difference between right and wrong and he lived by it. 

Those who said in my husband's meeting tonight that it's for the boys...That's right, it's for the boys, Scouting has left the boys and it's up to us as parents to do right by the boys.  They are watching us, wondering are we going to compromise, are we going to chase after an organization that doesn't match what we sit in the pew on Sunday and spew?  Does it match what we read in our Bibles?  Does it jive with what we are teaching in our homes when we lie down, when we get up, and when we walk along the way?  If you really think this is for the boys, don't be a hypocrite.  If you want to go downstream, if you want to hold the balloon strings of compromise, fine, but explain to your children that the rest of your life is false also.  If anything is a blessing, it's knowing that my husband has stood for what he believes and isn't jumping after false doctrine, and while sad and disappointed and a little angry too I suspect, he showed our son an example of faithfulness, communicated by his willingness to go tonight as well as speak words of truth there and with our eldest afterward, and in doing so blessed him.

Tonight, I realized I was witnessing the end of an era, one of the last times I will see my children achieve in an organization which has severed its ties from us.  Scott's Eagle ceremony, scheduled for August 10, was already precious in my mind even though it has yet occurred.  But now, I cannot even imagine the feelings it will evoke.  My husband spoke tonight of taking the true principles of Boy Scouts of America

and continuing with the boys, alone, apart from an organization we cannot find anymore.  There are other options starting to pop up as well.  Scouting was only 100 years old, not ancient by any means.  

Maybe some more change needs to occur.  Maybe in climbing upstream we can affect change in a positive way, maybe a new beginning is on the horizon, a new future, a new way, maybe one that is ancient, that's as old as time itself.  

Maybe we can go back to the book and start over.  Really?  Really...

Grandma Jane Tells a Story

     After the little ones had gone to bed and I was busy busy working, moving to and fro throughout the kitchen, family room, and laundry...I overheard JB helping Sarah Kelly, who was trying to think of just 4 more questions for her interview writing assignment from Elizabeth Hempton.

Since I missed the suggestions but could from her a tone of wonder and uncertainty in her voice, I listened up when I heard a familiar story being told and especially when I witnessed Scott putting down a book to listen also.
The story was about our dear dear friends who adopted us as "grandchildren" when we were newly weds in Kansas, far from home in July 1993.  This older couple purposely stole our hearts and we adored them and they in turn, us.  Always ones to dole out advice and "suggestions", we were eager for their expertise and knowledge.  Their top priority was to evangelize anyone and everyone.  If they found you a believer, they rejoiced with and for you.  But the point of this story is that they always asked.  It was a mission they were on and advanced for the Lord.
     My husband then related a specific incident in which these 2 dear people were in a car accident which smashed in one whole side of their car.  "Grandma" Jane, who was unable to walk very far without her cane, and hardly at all without it, had to overcome a physical struggle to get out of the car; her side was completely smashed in.  She had to crawl all the way across the seat on hands and knees and mostly drag herself out through the other side of the car and through the window.  The young gal, who caused the accident, was extremely upset and very concerned and contrite since she had run the red light.  Jane hobbled over to this gal just as she was rushing to them and was beside herself wanting to know if this elderly couple was okay.  Jane, bruised and limping, placed her hand on the gal's shoulder, explained that they were fine and asked how she was.  The young girl, who obviously was physically okay, yet visibly shaken, kept telling them she was not hurt but it was obvious she was overcome with emotion at the results of her actions.  Jane prodded further, "No, honey, I want to know if you are okay?  Do you know Jesus?  Is He your Lord and Saviour?
     That day, on the street in the midst of broken glass, a smashed car, and aching bones, an almost 80 year old woman decided that salvation was the most important question to ask and she never missed a beat.  In fact, I have often wondered if that was how she made it out of the car; she had an appointment, an appointment with only one question that needed answering.  She made it her mission to testify about the goodness of the Lord and witness to that gal at the busy intersection of 75th and Belinder in Prairie Village, Kansas.
     This story impacted my daughter, a fellow believer, tonight, in 2013, almost 20 years after the incident occurred.  She has been pondering it ever since.  In the days to come, I expect we will hear questions, wanting to know more about this salvation pursuer, more about their dear walk with the Lord, and more about our relationship with them which continued on this earth until Jane's passing onto her heavenly reward on November 15, 1998, and Davis's  passing in November, 2006.  While Sarah Kelly never had the opportunity to meet Grandma Jane in this life, she will rejoice with her in heaven, no doubt being highly entertained with wide-eyed wonder at the stories she will tell.
     Now, what do you think the question was that my husband suggested to Sarah Kelly that she include in her interview for writing class?

   

FRANCE HERE WE COME!

On the way to France---- pictures to follow.

A Man for Such a Time as This

Exactly how did I get caught up in this election?  Exactly how did we come to an agreement as a couple and a family to support Curtis Bostic for Congress?  Why have we poured time, energy and resources into this campaign?  Why are we making phone calls, sending emails, posting information, passing out flyers, holding banners, feeding volunteers, working behind the scenes, and more?  Well, it was a little less scientific and a little more God-driven.  This is God's man for this moment in time for this job.  Simple.  But how do *I* know that, and why should *you* vote for him, if you live in the First Congressional District in South Carolina?
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Wouldn't it be great if God would give us little slips of paper with all the answers on them?  I mean, it would make decisions in this life so much easier.  If someone would just tell us what to do, where to go, what the will of the Lord was, and if we could just trust that advice, then it would save so much of our time and energy.  We wouldn't have to work and struggle quite so hard.  While there have been many decisions we (our family) has made during the last (almost) 20 years which we have struggled over, prayed over, sought guidance over, and while we have made some mistakes and wrong decisions (which incidentally I knew at the time but felt like I was on a water slide going down too fast to stop), most decisions and choices have been rather, well, benign.  Surrounding ourselves with good guidance, praying often, and keeping our eyes and ears open leads to rather, more of an ease to decisions.  The wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth isn't what I believe the Lord is asking of us.

In December, I had the awesome opportunity to help a friend of mine achieve something.  This man is a dear brother in the Lord (soon you will read the blog post I've already written about him and his family).  As we both knew, the task we were vying for was far-fetched at the least and if it had come to fruition, no one would have been more surprised than us, even though we know we serve a BIG GOD who can do His will however He wants.  What we did know was that this would lead to something else, neither of us knew exactly what, but something... something that would build on the foundation that we had begun with acknowledging the gifts my friend has for the public at large to soon know.  And it all led to where we are today, right now, at this moment, 48 hours from election day.

Just after Christmas, my friend and his family came over for an old-fashioned supper and fellowship.  Over cube steak and potatoes, green beans, fruit, and homemade rolls, it was all politics. Who was going to run for the 1st district congressional seat held by then Congressman Timothy Scott who was resigning in a few days to go to the US Senate?  Would my friend run?  We worked on that awhile... or would *his* friend run?  I knew of this friend of his but only slightly.  We met once, a long time ago at some homeschool function which even I cannot remember, which is very strange for me.  I had met with and talked with his wife other times, met some of their children, knew they were an incredible homeschooling family, basically knew they were an amazing family.  Almost a "too good to be true" kind of a family.  My best friend knew them well, and yes, they were exactly as they seemed, the "real deal", nothing fake here, but true Christian character lived out daily in their lives and in every situation.  The more that he began to share, the more I realized the Lord was speaking directly to me in my dining room; it couldn't have been more clear.  The clincher was this: (as if I wasn't listening...and I really was!).  My friend finished with, "If I want to run for this seat, Curtis won't run, he'll take his name out, and drop back and be the first person to write a check and support me for this endeavor. That's the kind of friendship and accountability we have."  Now, it might seem a little shallow to know who you're going to support in December before the Congressman has resigned, before you even know who for sure is running, before you even know if your friend is even running, but God speaks through people, He uses the here and now and we have to be ready because He may just give us the answer when we are least expecting it or least want it.  Yes, He speaks through pastors or teachers of the Word, or through prayer, but every single believer is used by God to influence others and sometimes He uses unbelievers!
Of course I did pray about it.  I did put forth Gideon's fleece and boy did God deliver.  So here's what you should know and why you should support Curtis Bostic for Congress:

Everywhere I go, every door I knock on, every phone call we make, we hear the same plea, the same question asking for help.  "But so many of them are the same!  How do I know which one of those 4 (some say 5) to vote for?"  If you want to vote for a Christian, conservative, Constitutional candidate, then yes, you're in trouble because there are about 5 of them out of the 16 Republicans running for this seat, not to mention that they're pro-life, pro-gun, pro-homeschooling, and pro-limited government.  That's when people check out, they go back to their pressing life and decide to wait it out and see which two will be in the run-off, a much easier decision.  But Curtis isn't just your typical candidate in that bracket and we have a responsibility to work hard and find the answer and we have a God-given responsibility to be involved and figure it out.

This man has everything to lose by running,...by winning.  He will have to give up his law practice helping people, his life's work, his joy of a job; he cannot even have his name on the building should he win.  He will have to give up his ministry, "Remember", giving aid and helping children in 3rd world countries, another love of his. This mission-minded soul had to choose between his current mission and an equally great mission, helping people in this country.  No other politician has so much to lose while having something to gain.  Others are seeking to move up the political ladder, further their careers, ignore term limits they had previously set, and seek only political gain.
Curtis is the one candidate who has a command understanding of the Rule of Law, the US Constitution, and I'm not talking about a ship.  Others know parts, carry the booklet around, kick the can down the road in forums fairly well, but Curtis can take any situation you give him and using his Constitutional lens, give you the good, the bad, and the ugly.  It may not be exactly what you want to hear, it may not be the most politically savvy answer, it may cost you something you have to give up, but it will be the right, sound doctrine because it will be based on a system of law set in place by a group of men God poured out wisdom on 224 years ago.  I've watched it in action.  I've heard the stories about Curtis, who so desires that we put our trust in this system, that he's willing to forgo the good answer for the best answer.  No other candidate has done this.
Curtis is the most ethical man I know.  He has committed to run an campaign of high standards, he won't allow or use any false, misleading or negative advertising.  He wouldn't even put his signs in Charleston County right of ways as all the others had done because it was against an ordinance which the county made sure every candidate was aware of.  Recently, the county rescinded this but his exact words to me before this were, "I want to be a law-maker, not a law-breaker."  If you did see his signs, it's because we asked businesses' permission.  And yes, we're putting up signs like crazy now.
When approached with a problematic situation, instead of resorting to a negative campaign, or even a press release, Curtis's words are, "I will run on my record, let the chips fall where they may."  Everything he does, he prays over.  He knows that God will direct this election and he's letting God and the Word of the Lord direct his part in it.
Recently having been made a target by one of those others who seem so like him, so like a lot of the others, but yet, unlike Curtis, he chose to handle it in the biblical manner, Matthew 18.  Very few know which other candidate is allowing negativity, attacks, and other unbiblical nonsense to be spread to hurt Curtis because the Lord has blessed this campaign and Curtis is a serious threat to this other man's viability because of their seemingly "sameness" on the surface.
Viability. What makes a man viable?  God does. But money talks in politics and if Curtis does well, it will be because he managed extremely well the resources he has been given by the Almighty and others, it will not be because he spent the most, in fact, he may be one of the smaller spenders.

Curtis' silence and willingness to listen to voters speaks volumes (pun intended).  He is not loud or self-serving when he talks and he is more willing to hear than jump in with immediate solutions and answers. He has a lot of the answers, he's willing to work hard to figure out the rest, and he understands our government and our problems facing SC and the nation but he also understands the value of conversation and that if elected, he represents the people, not the establishment or his own personal interests.
He served on Charleston County Council for 8 years with Tim Scott; many achievements were made during that time, including keeping my taxes down.  Tim has been a friend of his for a long time and has been encouraging during this process.  If you are still trying to decide, still trying to find that one distinctive man, I humbly pray that the Lord will work through my words and you will choose today to support the man, God's man, for the next Congressman from SC.
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While I do not know the future, and only God knows what Tuesday night will bring, I do know He has something further in store for Curtis Bostic, whether it be a seat in Congress or another job entirely.  Curtis has dedicated his life to serving the Lord; he's the different but better candidate for the 1st district and that's good enough for me, Will you please join me?  We need a "few good men" and women, as the former Marine, Curtis Bostic, might say, to come alongside of us and vote on Tuesday and encourage others to exercise their right and responsibility to choose the best man for the job.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

If you missed this at Christmas, here's our update from last year, 2012.  Of course, if you did receive this "snail mail" with our card and it seems a little different, it's because I always remember a few details that somehow get left out, so I've added a few of those in as well as fixed the erroneous numbers (the amount of laundry was off, way off).  Enjoy!

Merry Christmas to you and your family from ours!  The Lord has blessed us and great is our joy!  We hope your heart is close to Him and you are peacefully resting in His spirit this wonderful Christmas season!

Our blessings we hold so dear have brought us more joy than imaginable.  Our baby, whom we all just adore, is a major delight for us all.  We just can’t get enough of her sweetness and cuteness and her, as we call it “100 hairs” which she finally grew last month.  Katharine Ellis, who mainly goes by “baby” loves all of us too.  She learned to walk on New Year’s Day and hasn’t slowed down yet.  She doesn’t talk much but there’s not much opportunity.  She does say a few Spanish words! While still making us laugh with his wit, Jackson is a young first grader, who loves action and movement which pretty much means school isn’t his favorite thing. For he and Harris and Drew, it’s all about cowboys, guns, swords, soldiers, wrestling, trucks, trains, climbing trees and anything slightly dangerous, like walking on the deck railing.  You really haven’t lived until an 8 year old boy uses your mixer beaters like a machine gun (with mashed potatoes) while another comes around the corner bandana covering the face with his cap gun, shouting, “Stick ‘em up!”  Or when you go outside to check on the fort they are building and wonder why one of the boys is very still on the ground for a long time.  Bending down to ask revealed that I had intruded upon a fallen soldier.  “Mommy, I got shot by the ‘Federates’.  This is Bloody Lane” (Ever been to Antietam?  They have!)  Harris and Drew have gotten into chess and like 500 piece puzzles so occasionally it is quieter, but never quiet.  They bring us laughter and just as often try me.  God is perfecting my character through times when football is being played in the front yard and Scott at age 14 and 140 pounds executes a great drive but the other team’s face lands in a brick wall!  Speaking of football that sums up Scott; he eats, breathes, and lives it.  Well along with “his baby” as he calls her.  I have a mental picture I will never forget, a sweaty fully-suited up football player carrying “his baby” on his shoulders after a high school game.  Sarah Kelly and Elizabeth can be be just as wild as the boys when playing with them but they like their calmer time too, to knit, sew, do crafts, and play with dolls.  Sarah Kelly is my right hand and sometimes my left!  She is quite the cook and seamstress.  Elizabeth is really enjoying gymnastics something no one else gets to do but her and loves to play with the baby.  JB and I haven’t changed much, we work hard and play hard and love it all.  We are so incredibly blessed. 

So here is a synopsis of our year, a very general one at that.  While you read the following, keep in mind the stats I took time this year to average:  By the week:  15-18 laundry loads, 3 bread loaves, 4 gallons of milk, 26 gallons of gas, 12 dirty bathrooms (each of our 3 bathrooms are very dirty every 2 days), 20 dishwasher runs; 2 grocery trips; 16 hours of read aloud time;  2 overflowing refrigerators and 2 freezers; 25 diapers; 9 shirts to iron; 10 hours of vacuuming; countless hours of school and work to do for school; 21 times of saying “cierra la puerta!” (shut the door); never enough sleep but always someone to cuddle with.

                                                                                        

2012

We could have said this year was calmer than last which brought our new baby, a new vehicle, a new place to live for the summer, but when we talked about the year in recap?  It’s been just as much of a wild ride as 2011, so I’ll give it a whirl!

January didn’t bring a cold winter, but brought chicken pox.  Each child besides Sarah Kelly had it, from baby to teenager.  For the littles, a sense of pride ensued as to who the “winner” was; whoever had the most spots.  February ushered in birthday season.  The baby had her first birthday, a Sophie the giraffe party in pink and brown and Scott turned 14 the next day.  We redid our kitchen countertops, changed the knobs out, put in a new stove and dishwasher and cleaned the cabinets (novel idea) and viola!  It seemed like a new kitchen.  This was all completed just before Leap Day. The little ones still talk about being in 5 newspapers and the TV news following them around that day.  Their big party we hold once every four years for our rare spontaneous triplet leapsters involved lots of friends and family playing games, eating bbq and of course, homemade ice cream and cake.  March brought the end of the bathroom renovation we started just before the baby was born.  We finally got our shower tiled and the bathroom completed after a year of off and on work just in time to rent our house for a long weekend during a homeschool conference. Scott had won the local Geography Bee, qualified for the state bee and participated against 100 other students to come in 5^th place in the state.  April found JB teaching a bridge refresher inspection class (which he does quite often) in San Francisco so the baby and I went along; spent a few days in one of my favorite cities, then took the train out to Clayton where we had lived last summer spending the rest of the time with “Grandma Patty” at her home.  It did something good for my soul to see the beautiful peaceful gardens again at the house and put my hands in the dirt.  Drew played baseball for the first time during the spring and really enjoyed it; I liked that we found a local team and we didn’t have to drive so far.  And of course, we were raising four ducks!

May brought strawberries, 22 gallons of them but many hands to pick, pack away, and eat.  It also brought the end to activities such as Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, literature group, and piano and a fun trip to Great Wolf Lodge for the family. June was Boy Scout Camp and National Youth Leadership training for Scott and continuing schoolwork as well as Jackson's Kindergarten Graduation we did here at home.

Early July took us to Canada (another class for Jeff to teach), a trip on the way up to the west where we watched 4^th of July fireworks over Niagara Falls, and a trip on the way back through the Northeast.  We really enjoyed our time on the dock at the house we rented in Nova Scotia.  When we arrived home the end of July summer and vacation were over.  The following 6 weeks are almost hard for me to believe or remember everything that happened and if someone had told me what it would have entailed, I’d have stayed on the dock in Canada. 
Upon our return, we had 2 stray dogs in our yard, one of which was expecting, unbeknownst to us and whom we ended up fostering along with her 8 puppies for the humane society until early Nov.  We spent lots of time praying, discussing, and visiting our local high school to determine if JV football was right for Scott, an option after a new law passed in late June to allow homeschoolers to play sports.  After 3 weeks of phone calls, visits, letters, work, grades, etc…, we made the decision to let him play.  While all this was going on, we investigated opportunities (which took a lot of research) for Scott to take a lab science class and eventually settled on a homeschool co-op  which we attend every Mon.  All the school-age ones get to participate (geography, p.e., nutrition, zoology), the baby stays in the nursery with me and I also teach a one hour writing class to SK’s age group.  While making all these decisions, I tried very hard to wrap up the paperwork and materials from the last year, completely cleaned up and reorganized our school room, and tried to plan for the new year.  But there were always other things going on, like plumbing problems, the kitchen sink falling in, the dishwasher falling out, the dryer handle falling off (we currently use a screwdriver to open it) and JB being gone 2 different weeks for work.  We finally (after almost 3 years of plywood) floored our bedroom, which meant taking everything out of it.  In this homeschooled family there are 2 huge bookcases overfilling with books, my desk, and computer in there as well as the baby’s crib, changing table, and regular furniture so this was no small feat and it all had to go back in order.  I took the opportunity to rearrange my room somewhat, or at least the work area part of it.  We painted the deck, started painting the house (not finished yet), and planted more flowers and bushes outside which we added a dump truck load of mulch around.  The dishwasher repairman(for a new one!) was here enough to be on my cell phone list, the high school knew me by face and name I had to go in so much to get the football paperwork worked out, and somewhere in there Jackson had a birthday.  Keepers at Home classes started for the Sarah Kelly and Elizabeth.  It’s fun for us to go together once a month for a time of devotions and an activity/craft/project.  Near the end of August JB and I got to stay in downtown Charleston for a marketing conference we go to every year.  We had a nice 3 days away (but we worked at marketing) and even managed to run into our house down there for a few hours to move some furniture in and around, hang some pictures and bring some back.  We had not been there since June and had no idea, with what was looking like a crazy fall schedule when we’d be back, so we worked in the house for about 50 minutes, shrugged our shoulders and raced back up to Greenville for Boy Scouts.  Three sets of company came in August and culminated with Grandpa Russ and Grandma Helen from Kansas.  They made my year when they brought me her Ironrite she had received as a wedding gift 55 years ago.  I have really enjoyed ironing from a chair and pressing all my tablecloths, napkins, and sheets with ease.  It’s really the simple things that bless me! 

As September dawned we slept a little more and eased into a routine with just the normal stuff: school, co-op, football, church, Scouts, gymnastics (Elizabeth), and piano lessons.  JB went to Alaska for 3 weeks to inspect bridges and we took care of those 8 puppies born just before he left.  We picked tons of apples and the late crop of tomatoes ensuring that the stove and dehydrator would not be idle for several weeks.  I don’t think my stove/oven is ever off!  October found our family in Chattanooga (JB again teaching) for my birthday and we toured some Civil War sites.  Football was over at the end of the month which came way too fast for all of us.  Some or all of us went to every game and we looked back with gratitude that we had made the right decision.  The parents we met, the boys on the team, the coaches, the games, the principals’ daughter (our new babysitter) that Scott got to play wide-receiver as a freshman, that he never got hurt, all of it was a blessing and a positive experience.  Most every day he says, “I wish we still had football practice”.  Every afternoon he goes to strength/agility/weight training at the hs for off-season sports.  This Jan. he is hoping to play soccer.  It’s  a whole new world but we’re enjoying the ride.

In November with football over, Scott’s time was more flexible and he went with JB to Kauai, Hawaii for a week while the firm did inspections.  He enjoyed helping Dad work, meet the clients, having fun snorkeling and going to Pearl Harbor.  The week before he had finished the workday part of his Eagle Scout project for Boy Scouts.  They came home and the next day we left for Kansas.  We got to go back to our church there for a Thanksgiving service and onto Omaha, NE for JB to do a presentation for the DOT.  The children and I amazed ourselves at the zoo and we did some Lewis and Clark wanderings and museums as well.  We had a wonderful time that Thanksgiving week visiting with friends and our “Kansas Family”.  Now it’s December and on the 6^th Scott had his final board of review for Eagle.  The Eagle has landed!  A celebration is coming.  We’ve had fun winding down school somewhat to decorate, visit, have others into our home, celebrate SK’s 12^th birthday and participate in all the fun the season brings.  We are going to spend some of our time relaxing (and working a little) at the Charleston House which we have used this past year for those needing vacation and short-term rentals.  Each night as we light our advent candles, sing, and read, we bring focus back on the reason for all the hustle and bustle, the tiniest reason of all, the baby Jesus, born to die so that we might be born to live.  May God bless you in the coming year and may you listen to that still small voice when it calls out to you so that you too, may have life, and have it more abundantly.

Love from the Rowe Tribe,

Jeff, Kelly, BSA (Scott), Sarah Kelly, Harris, Elizabeth, Andrew

Jackson, Peter, Jonathan (our blessings in heaven) and Katharine Ellis

www.therowetribe.blogspot.com

rowetribe10@gmail.com

The Boy is a Man and Lessons in a Hat

Note:  This post was orignally written in July, 2012 but it just now being published with one minor addition:  the sign in sheet for the Eagle Scout project.  Otherwise it is in its complete form as it was written that evening in July, on the dock on the Western Shore in Nova Scotia.

He carries the world on his shoulders, the boy who is a man but not yet. 

 He carries the load, it's burdensome and he puts it down but he cannot resist and it is picked back up again. To become a man is a funny thing, you want it but yet you don't.  How I remember listening to a small voice, yet to crack, saying, "I'm not sure if I want to grow up?" 

 How to lighten the load? How to help him carry it gracefully with strength and dignity and integrity? Or can I?

The burden of becoming and being a man will only push on his shoulders to the extent that the woman in his life allows it to.

I wish I had the hat or better yet, just a picture of it.  The hat is long gone, maybe in Newfoundland, maybe in the North Pole?  

It is our first day here, really here, that is.  We have covered the particulars, food that is, and we are unpacked and settled.  Maybe too settled so that familiar causes us to stumble.

A majestic setting, a beautiful place where there is nothing ugly or hurtful, or just plain inconsiderate until I find the hat. 

 An old hat, very worn, sitting on the workbench, very ugly.  Awful ugly,awfully dusty and probably mildewed.  It boasts a "Corona" beer label on the front without the bottle so I deem it wearable.  I have no hat.  I always have a hat, especially in summer, but the one thing that was forgotten was my hat. 

 My husband is buying me a hat today in town when he goes into the city to teach his class but right now, today, this time, bright sun, I slip it on, grime and all.  No one wants this hat, it has been left behind for years.  I slip on sin; it coats me, but I don't recognize it yet. I seem to have a tough skin and the Lord, gently as He does, works on me patiently and then when I see, so clearly, I cry, but right now I don't see anything but a grand adventure awaiting us.

For now, there's just the hat and this beautiful day and we can't wait to go out to the dock.

We are not out long and there's a stiff breeze, the kind that feels so refreshing on a hot day, the kind that whips your hair to your face, that lifts your hat from your head and sails it into the water.  The hat, the one my oldest son made fun of, in a loving way.  So like his Daddy, the boy is a man, teasingly good-natured, loving me the way he knows how, with words of fun and tease.  "There goes your gorgeous hat, Mom."

"Oooh, that's not my hat.  We have to get it! Scott will you jump in and get it please?  "Aw Mom!"  "I don't have my bathing suit on yet and the water's pretty cold today. "Please Scott, it won't hurt you; you didn't seem to mind yesterday?"  "Yesterday I had my suit on."  "But it's not a big deal; just go in with your shorts on."  Meanwhile the hat is floating further and further from the dock.  I am tense, getting a little ruffled.  Why won't he just dive in after the hat?  He doesn't mind cold, he loves water.  What's the big deal?  "Scott I need you to go after the hat.  It may belong to someone and I don't want to lose it since it's not mine especially."  "Oh, Mommy, I really don't want to go in.  It's an old beaten up hat, let it go."  "If it's your clothes, then run up and change real quickly".  "There's no time for that Mommy."  "Ok, I'm going in after the hat." I get an incredulous look from the boy is a man.  The hat is way out there; the wind has sailed it and skimmed it along the water tops.  I'm not sure if I can get it but I must, I have to get the hat.  It has become all or nothing to me.  "You cannot get it now; it's too far out.  I don't think I could get it now", he says.  "But I must!" "By this time there is an element of heightened frustration and perhaps a little fear.  Will there be trouble if I lose the dusty, old, long-forgotten hat?  Is it worth it?  Do I demand my boy is a man go after it?  "Scott, just jump in and get it."  No response.  He looks at me as if he has no idea who I am.  Now the littles are taking up the tirade, pushing on him, pleading.  He pushes back and disgusted; he turns to leave.  "Okay, that's it, I'm going in, " I declare.  His response,  "You can't do that.  It's way too far now.  Look at this wind, this wind has made the current way to strong for you or me. Plus, it's very cold and remember you're cold-blooded."  This last comment hits me hard.  It is the quip of a good-natured joke without the tease this time.  This time, it is a hard look.  

Time stands still; the hat is nearly beyond our sight.  I have two options.  Force it

or let go.  Am I giving up too easily, allowing something that shouldn't be allowed, or is there something different entirely going on here.  I am mad.  Yes, I said it, inside I am upset. Because of why a voice says?  Because you lost the hat?  Because you didn't hang onto it in a strong wind?  Because you know better?  Because he wouldn't go get it?  Because you know it's not worth it?  Because it's worth jeopardizing relationship over all else?

Now, you don't know my boy is a man.  You have no idea the extent of our relationship, the time invested, the laughter, the hours we spent building train tracks, listening to him compose music, watching him ace Chemistry when I almost couldn't pass it, the fun, how amazing he is and wonderful to be with; there is no way in any amount of words I could ever describe any of this adequately.  You will have to believe me.  We are tight; thick, majorly connected.  When I signed in on his Eagle Scout Project sheet, I signed in this way: February 10, 1998, 10:09 pm CST.  I did not sign out that day nor will I ever sign out.  When I pass away, there will still be no signing out. 

 My influence will be forever and reach other generations.  I am now risking it over a hat.

 

I can try to kill myself literally by going after the hat and I'm not as strong of a swimmer as he is.  He would have to come after me; he would in a heartbeat, no hesitation, and rescue me, the boy is a man.  Now he turns to leave; he's leaving the dock; the one place we all wanted to be.  It is now past tense.  The littles are playing and having a grand time.  Everything is over or is it?  Time stands still.  I stand still and watch him slip away to the house.  

I stand for what seems like hours though it is only minutes for me to come to grips with it all.  The hat is gone but who cares, this has nothing whatsoever to do with a beer logo hat.  I know what's next and I sigh as the Holy Spirit prompts my heart.  I know.  Don't tell me,  I know.  I am pressing on the burden.  My boy is a man and I am in the process of disqualifying him for that position.  I must reinstate him.

Everyone must get away from the water and closer to land, up in the yard.  Sarah Kelly is in charge and I take the longest walk of my life up to the house.  Silence is golden and I use it, just silence.  We stare at each other on the sofa; he is glaring somewhat but underneath it I can see it, smell it, feel it, there is pain.  This is so simple but yet so hard.  I want it so badly I can barely contain the "I'm sorry. I love you so much; I asked you to do what you didn't feel was worthy.  It's my fault and for that I am sorrier than you will ever know.  It's not your responsibility that I lost the hat."  And on and on until there is nothing left and I know I will cry.  But somehow the tears are held at bay.  At bay, until the boy is a man speaks and with tears in his eyes says what I could never imagine.  "I'm so sorry Mommy, (yes he still calls me that sometimes), I should have jumped in immediately and gotten the hat.  This is all my fault.  I didn't want to get it.  I weighed it and realized it really wasn't that important; that it should just not be worried about.  But I would have gone for you because you asked me to but by the time I realized that I should, I couldn't get it anymore.  I am so sorry."  

Speechless and now not tearless, I am at a loss.  I thought I had this figured out.  It is like a double face-palm.  What?  He really was thinking this way?  

* * *

There comes a point where the boy is a man and has to be in charge; he has to be in control.  He has to start thinking like a man and being treated the way he deserves to be, with respect for his decisions.  This boy was wrestling with doing what his mama said.  This man was making a decision, a firm, affable, intelligent decision which he will be required to make more and more as time goes on.  No one is a boy one day and a man the next.  At this point, a major thing has happened.  I see him in a different light.  Many times I have deferred to him, which route Scott?  Which exit do you think?  These are our choices, which do you think is best?  More times I have thanked him for bringing in the groceries, opening the door for me, taking out the trash, keeping the younger ones, printing something for me, putting pictures on my blog, researching for me, taking care of the baby, helping me at a minute's notice, working hard at school, acting with integirty, and on and on.  And always, always he is saying, "Mommy, what do you need me to do next?"  I have turned over some decision-making and while still in a guidance and consulting position, I have tried today on the dock to take it all away. 

No, it is me who is so wrong and I tell him. But I am also glad that I can see so clearly.  We are both excited now.  Both happy to be going back down to the dock.  He cannot wait to spend the time down there that we had all anticipated from the beginning and I'm sure some littles will be glad to leave the yard and return as well.  As we walk down together, laughing, I tell him exactly how it is.  How his father, in the same situation, would look at me and make the same decision.  He would say with firm and definite words, but with a huge boyish grin, "It's just a hat and I'm not going after it and neither are you.  Let it go."  I tell this boy is a man how that would be balm for my soul; someone stepping up and making that decision, firmly with skill and thoughtfulness, taking care of me and my problems and then of course teasing me for long afterwards about my inability to keep an ugly, old, hat on my head during a fierce wind.  He laughs and says what pierces my soul, "That's what I wanted to say."  A photographer following us now would have a priceless picture of a taller than me boy is a man with his arm loped over my shoulder.

My boy is a man stays on the right path.  He has a good model of a manly father 

and the Holy Spirit hasn't given up on me yet as his mother.  I'm so glad I can depend upon God and I have complete trust in my soul.  

* * *

We have yet to ever speak of the hat again.  It is buried in my heart where mothers keep that which they never mention but what they always ponder.

"But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart."

Luke 2:19