In this instance, words do not suffice. And yes, I used a tired phrase.

Said title of this blog was uttered by Youngest SON of Thunder the other night. He, his siblings and yours truly were watching a YouTube video. Quite instructional some of those videos are by the way.

Anyway. We were learning … wait for it … wait … how a milk snake eats. Snake, not shake.

And why pray tell would we care? Somehow, Eldest SON of Thunder convinced yours truly and the Little Black Dress that he really, really, wanted a milk snake for his birthday. Said birthday is today.

An aside – happy birthday Eldest. You are awesome. And The Dress and I are very proud of you and are simply grateful you are in our lives.

We’re back. So here’s how it happens. The nice commentator on the video drops a very cute little white mouse into the glass terrarium. Said terrarium also includes a milk snake. Said snakes are about a finger or two wide and grow to about 36 inches or so. Just so you know we’re not talking rattlers or pythons or such.

And the little precious mouse scurries about and the snake just looks at it. And then out of the blue, in that whole Santa twinkling of an eye speed, the snake strikes, wrapping itself completely around the aforementioned precious little mouse.

And the snake starts to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. And the nice commentator lets us know the snake is basically suffocating the precious mouse to death.

After about a minute the snake decides the mouse is dead enough. And it’s time to eat. Now we all know snakes don’t have arms (you know that right?). So I figured the snake would just sort of gnaw on the mouse. I say this because the mouse – at least in width – is way bigger than the snake.

That would be a “no.” Because the snake basically opens its mouth to some absurd stretch and begins to swallow the now dead, former precious mouse.

And it was about that time Youngest SON let out the “AG@!#!! … Not the circle of life!!!. Complete with all the exclamation points.

In the background, The Dress is muttering. Something along the lines of “What was I thinking,” “This was the dumbest idea of all time,”  ”What was I thinking,” “If that snake ever gets out …,” “What was I thinking.” And so forth.

A few days ago, Eldest Son and I were on the Internet searching for the perfect milk snake. Eldest wanted a Nelson milk snake. We found one an ordered. They are shipped overnight delivery. Eldest was completely calm and rationale and didn’t check his e-mail every five minutes to see if it had shipped and exactly when it would arrive. No, not at all.

We finally got an e-mail. They were out of Nelsons. They suggested an Apricot milk snake. Eldest did not want an Apricot. He wanted a Nelson. Another aside – basically the various names refer, I’m guessing here, to the color patterns of said snakes. I say that because they also have Albino milk snakes, which, yes, have a lot of white. For some reason, The Dress was adamant there would be no Albino milk snake in the house.

So Eldest and I search some more and find a Mexican milk snake. And we order it. It’s due today. And Eldest calls The Dress to inform her. Bad mistake son.

Because within nanoseconds of that call The Dress has speed-dialed me and just lays into me.

“I thought we were getting a Nelson snake. What is this Mexican snake. We agreed on a Nelson snake. That’s what the science teacher said to get” and so on and so forth.

And then she let out, “what if its personality is different.”

And I pause. And in my sweetest voice say, “honey, it’s a friggin snake.”

And then spent quite a bit of time explaining that said snake was indeed a milk snake and the only difference was the name, which simply referred to its color pattern. And she may have bought that line, but we’ll see. And that will all depend on said snake’s personality.

Anyway. The Dress and Eldest head off to the Big Box Pet Store to get a terrarium. And silly me thinks they will be bringing back a big glass case.

That would be a “no.”

We have special wood chips – Aspen no less – because cedar apparently kills them. And the terrarium isn’t just a big case. No. It includes a 5.5 inch “Premium Reflector Dome Fixture” that “provides warmth and light with a ceramic socket to withstand constant heat.”

And we have a “Day Blue Light Bulb” that “emits full-spectrum light and UVA rays needed for a healthy reptile environment.” And we have a “Heat Mat Terrarium Heater” that “helps reptiles thermo-regulate for daily activity, appetite and metabolism.”

Think I’m done don’t you?

That would be a “no.” Because we also have a “Terrarium Liner” described as needed because “reptiles thrive on the absorbent, non-abrasive material. Treated with a biodegradable enzme that reduces reptile odors.”

And I admit, I had no idea snakes stunk.

And finally, we have the “Fresh Air Screen Cover 20 x 10 inch” that “provides solid security and air flow to promote a healthy exchange of air needed to help keep pets active and healthy.” Yeah, it also means it better keep the snake because if it escapes and finds the LBD …

I did not make any of that up. It’s all on the box. You have to love marketing.

We also learned milk snakes eat Pinkie Mice. Said mice are available at the Big Box Pet Store. Said mice are frozen.

That last sentence is key. Because the mice have to be warmed up first before the snake will eat them. That means you have to heat up some water and basically thaw the mouse.

It will never happen. But just imagining the Little Black Dress wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves and holding a frozen mouse by the tail with tongs while dipping it in hot water to warm it up …

I’d probably bust several blood vessels from laughing so hard.

It is time to go. The doorbell has rung.

Felipe is here.

By Augustus I do not mean Gaius Julius Caeser Augustus, also known as Octavian, the first Roman emperor, great-nephew of Julius Caeser and principal of the Pax Romana.

Not that the middle SON of Thunder shouldn’t set his sights on being the greatest and most successful emperor of the Roman Empire. But that just wasn’t the play this time.

No, I mean Augustus Gloop. A rotund German boy who won a golden ticket.

Although spelled the same, there is a slight difference in pronunciation.

Mr. Gloop is more of a AA-GOO-STUS; while the emperor is more like UH-GUS-TUS

Middle SON’s elementary school was putting on a play. And it was “Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” The one starring Gene Wilder, not to be confused with the slightly more bizarre “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” starring Johnnie Depp.

As the day of tryouts came, we offered the normal parental advice of “doing your best,” “if it was meant to be it will happen,” “no matter what, you are a winner,” and so on and so forth.

Middle SON did not get the role of Augustus – the German kid, not the emperor.

He was to be an Oompa Loompa.

Considering the change in roles, Middle SON took it fairly well. He told me about the teacher’s obvious miscue decision when I got home from work. I asked if he was okay about it and he said he was, but let’s just all agree it wasn’t said in the most emphatic way.

And we talked a bit. And I said something along the lines that people look at your title, your position in life so to speak, but God looks at you. What is truly important is not the title someone gives you, but what you do with what you have.

And I pointed out that without the Oompa Loompas, whom most people would consider mere drones, and funny looking ones at that, there would be no Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

No Oompas, no chocolate.

And I pointed out that even Willie Wonka acknowledged that without the Oompas, his dreams would never happen. A great leader realizes who got him where he is and gives credit where it is do.

And I thought of that verse in 1 Corinthians - “But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where he wants it. How strange a body would be if it had only one part!  Yes, there are many parts, but only one body.  The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.” In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary.”

Every now and then I actually get it right.

And Middle SON nodded, smiled and went off to listen to the movie soundtrack.

He worked hard. Had his lines down and a couple of cool Oompa moves. He’d listen to the soundtrack at night while going to bed. He was determined to be the best Oompa that ever did the loompa.

And a week before the big day, he got sick.

Now Middle SON is one who saves up his “sickies.” By that I mean he doesn’t get sick often, but when he does, ugh. The last time happened about two years ago, and he spent 10 days in the hospital. For a while there, well, you can read about it here.

We did what we could, but this virus was going to run its course. Middle SON barely got off the bed, and only to move to the couch.

The big day arrived and the play went on – minus one Oompa Loompa.

Middle SON was not happy. He worked and practiced and it simply was not to be.

I tried to explain to him that life – and school plays – go on. There will be disappointments in life, missed opportunities. But the key is to learn from that, to move forward, to get back on track.

Life is not a straight road. There are a lot of curves. It’s what you do when those curves come that make you who you are, and will be.

“Thanks dad,” he said. “Can I go play with my iPod now?”

Yes, enough of the lesson.

He may never get the chance to play Augustus Gloop again – but there’s always that Roman emperor.

Recently, we had our final campout with the Men of 47, a group of boys whom I had the privilege of leading as cubmaster. I thought about giving them some final pearls of life wisdom at the award ceremony, then thought better of it.

It just didn’t seem the time for some old coot to try to give life lessons when everyone was starving to eat and there was the whole “nega-pile” to play in.

So I waited.

And now is the time, so here it is.

Dear Men of 47:

I want to pass on a few final thoughts.

Some of these may be way over your head right now. But as you travel down the road of life and hit a bump or two or wonder which fork to take, hopefully the following will help serve as a roadmap.

Honor your name

Your name is the only thing you bring into this world. And it will be the main thing on your tombstone.

How you got your name is irrelevant. The important thing is it is yours and yours alone. Everything you do in life, how people remember you, will be based on your name.

Honor it.

Sign your name

By this, I mean to follow the Scout motto – Do Your Best. Be willing to sign your name to any and every thing you do. Signing your name means you are telling everyone that this is your best. That you stand by it.

Keep your word

It sounds simple, but unfortunately, it is becoming a lost art. It means what it says – if you say you will do something, do it. Do it because you said you would, even if you realize it might cost you time or money or you got in over your head.

And with that said, be careful in giving your word. Do not over-commit. A real man keeps his word; so keep yours.

Find your Sams

Sams are true friends. They are the ones who stand beside you with swords drawn as you face your dragons. They are with you at the mountaintop of success, but also bring a flashlight when you are in the darkest valley. They will speak the truth in your life when no one else will, and even when you don’t want to hear it.

You will be judged by your friends. Make sure they are Sams.

And how do you find people like this? Easy.

Be a Sam to others.

Be passionate

In your life, your job, your hobbies; in everything you do. Anyone can learn a skill, what sets the best apart from the rest is their passion. They put everything they have into whatever it is they are doing. Passion cannot be taught, it’s something you have to decide to do.

Find God’s purpose for your life, then do it

You are either descended from apes or some bacteria, or you were created by the Master of the Universe. You decide.

God has given you unique gifts and talents for a reason – to fulfill His plan for your life. . You are here for a purpose. Find it. Do it.

Choose quality over quantity

There is a saying that the man with the most toys in the end, wins. It’s a crock. Stuff is stuff. You will not take it with you.

Never settle for second-best. It is not about how much you have. It’s about how good what you have is.

Learn the power of a handwritten note

We are flooded with a myriad of electronic communication. It’s too easy now, whether a text or e-mail. No one writes letters anymore. And that is why a handwritten note is so important – because it takes time and thought.

Get some letterhead with your name at the top. And then use it.

Learn to say no 

There is a big difference between being busy and being productive. Multi-tasking simply means you are doing several things at once and not getting anything done.  Finish one thing before you start another.

Time is the one thing in life you cannot replace or replenish. How you spend your time says more about you than anything other than how you spend your money.  Do not overextend, over promise or over do.

If you don’t have the time, then learn to say no.

Do nothing

We are too busy being busy. We run from here to there and back again. It is called the rat race for a reason.

Learn to stop. Learn to take time for yourself. Learn that doing nothing is sometimes the most important thing you can do.

Just flip the dog

Sometimes you hit a wall. The way things have always been done don’t work any more.

A wall simply means you can’t go forward. There is nothing that says you can’t go to the left, to the right, or maybe just turn around and go down a completely different path.

Simply because it’s always been done a certain way doesn’t mean it’s the right way.

Dance with your wife in the kitchen

Your spouse will be the most important person in your life. She will know you better than anyone – your dreams, your hopes, your fears, your disappointments. Cherish her. Honor her.

And every now and then, just take the time to stop; stop and hold her and do a slow dance in the kitchen.

It’s been a pleasure gentlemen,

jaw

At the Winters Villa, we call it “hitting your wall”.

You may call it something else at your house, but we call “It” that.  The thing you feel when you know you can’t take one more step, one more move, one more phone call not returned, one more whatever.  It is when you’re flat-out “spent”.

You have nothing left to give yourself – or anyone else for that matter.

To be honest friends, I have felt that more than once in the last several years.  Starting over a life is not easy. Losing my parents, who were such strong Godly pillars in my life, and simply having to make so many decisions about our life and life’s work has been flat-out exhausting at times.

But I know many of you are walking through the same journey as Winters and I are.  I also know it could be even harder and I am grateful it is not. On this Thankful Thursday I am grateful for the friends that have chosen to stand beside us and face our future, or “giants” as Winters calls them, together with us.  I am thankful for those friends that say” how can I help,” and “what can I do,” or simply “I love your latest post or Winters’ interview”.  Words that speak hope and words that speak life to weary journeyman.  I pray I give the same encouragement to you and those I meet.

In Everyone Needs A Sam, Winters writes that many will go to the mountain top with you.  There are many who want to tag along when you are important, but few will walk life’s dark valley with you.  He talks about those faithful friends that will join you in your lowest and darkest hour as you are searching for a  light switch, and they bring the flash light.  I pray I am that kind of friend, packed with a flash light and willing and ready to turn it on at a moment’s notice. I thank God for all my flashlight-carrying friends.  You are a blessing to us.

We have been on the mountain top of success and we have been in the deep valley of despair.  We have been rich and we have been poor.  But as the apostle Paul said, “I have learned to be content no matter the circumstances.”

This past week was a week of reflection.  That can be a good thing, but only if you come out the other side with more perspective and understanding.  And so I did, have more insight and perspective that is.  I wish some of the events of the past could have been different, but they weren’t and if they were different I would probably not be sitting here typing this post.  So again, I have a deeper appreciation for the here and now.

Winters is a deeper, more compassionate and wiser man than he was and for that I am so grateful. Because of the path we have chosen Winters Writes.  It is his gift.  His calling. Non-conventional as it may be.

I recently read a phrase on an artist friend’s business card the other day, it simply read:

“Sometimes on the way to the dream you get lost and find a better one”

I love that.

I think it can be so true , often we have a plan. We think we know what we want and we head out on the journey, dreams packed, prepared and ready. We have great plans.  However, along the way you find an even better one.

New passions, new purpose and new opportunities may pop up right in front of us and we must be open and willing to see the new dream God may have for us.

If the word of God says “He will give you the desires of your heart”, then the way I see it He will either give you the desires of your heart or change your heart’s desire.  I really do think it is that simple.  There may just be a new dream God is just trying to birth in your heart and life.  It might be right around the corner. One prayer time or devotional away from being birthed.

So if you have “hit your wall,” you have lost your “whatever” and you feel completely spent and on top of that you are afraid  your dream is just out of reach …

Be open.

Be willing.

Be restored and renewed.

Ask God for eyes to see and just wait, any moment your friends will start turning on their flashlights.

You are not alone.

On this Thankful Thursday dear friends, be renewed as you step into new purpose and new dreams! Because frankly maybe the new dream is better than the old one anyway.  And thank God for the friends with flashlights.

Be blessed and encouraged abundantly today on this Thankful Thursday as we remember that what ever we are walking through, God has not been taken by surprise, you are not lost, but found.

And the Dream, whatever it may be, is still alive and well in your heart and soul whether it be an old one or a brand new one!

By that I mean the basic rules and such. You fight your way to the top, knock everyone else off and become King of the Hill. Ta da!

It is a game that mirrors life. At first glance, it seems the biggest always wins. No matter how hard you try, that giant is up there waiting. You struggle and claw your way uphill. Finally you  reach the top, you square off against that giant – and are knocked back down yet again.

To win, you realize you need help. So you form alliances – you find your “Sams.”  And together, you claw your way back up, but this time with those Sams beside you. And together, you defeat that giant. You reach that goal. You are King of the Hill.

This past weekend was the last campout for the season for the Men of 47. My last weekend as cubmaster. Somewhat bittersweet.

The parents of, and the Men of, Pack 47 were all there. Our final hurrah.

There were hikes to hike, food to eat, tents to pitch, games to play, bugs to squash, sticks to throw.

But there was no hill.  And with no hill, no king.

This did not deter the Men of 47. They just flipped the dog.

You see, while there was no hill, there was a ditch. Rather, a somewhat large crater. Or, as a good friend put it, a “nega-pile.” The Men of 47 could stand at the bottom of that crater and the top was above their head. Twenty to 25 feet or so in diameter. A nice ditch. Basically, a perfect inverted cone.

But it was rather difficult to be king of the ditch, because simple momentum meant everyone would congregate at the bottom. And it’s rather difficult, if not impossible, to push others out of a ditch. What to do?

Ever been on one of those rides at a carnival that illustrates centrifical force? Basically, a large circular ride where everyone puts their backs against the wall and the ride starts to spin. Faster and faster and then all of a sudden, the floor starts to lower. But you remain stuck to that wall. The spinning motion keeps you from falling, even though your feet are no longer touching.

That somewhat became the game. One of the Men would start running around the ditch in a circular motion, soon joined by others. And they would run around and around until finally couldn’t keep going and would end up in the ditch. I’m not really sure what the point was, or how you determined who won or was “king.”

But maybe that was the point. It wasn’t about winning. It was about running around in circles. Now at first glance, that would seem to miss the point. Aren’t we all tired of running around in circles? But again, sometimes we need to just flip the dog. Sometimes, when the point is to have fun, running in circles is okay.

So there was no king. But there were a couple of rules; rules dictated by the dads. The primary one being everyone had to run in the same direction. This was simply because we got tired of the Men coming up with tears in their eyes and snot coming out their noses because they did a direct face plant with another kid because they were going in opposite directions and at some point, two opposing forces going in opposite directions will eventually meet.

I am not really one for showers while camping. It’s camping, let the smells come. But in this instance, exceptions were made. Georgia is known for its red clay. It also, as it turns out, has orange clay. And said orange clay was located in the aforementioned nega-pile.

People will spend hundreds of dollars and countless hours hitting tanning booths for that perfect bronze spray-on tan. The Men of 47 got that tan for free, while playing.

They’d come out of the nega-pile with this orange hue. The only thing missing was a surfboard. California dreaming.

Problem was two-fold. Said orange dirt rubbed off on everything they touched – clothes, pillows, sleeping bags. And the orange hue was more of an Oompa Loompa hue – from the original Willie Wonka movie.

There were lots of showers taken. And we dads ordered the nega-pile closed before dark each night, simply because all the towels were turning orange.

There were no electronics that weekend; no comfort zone of iPods or whatever.

There was no king.

But there was imagination. And the Men of 47 used theirs. They simply looked around, saw what was available, and used what resources there were to have fun.

And I would call that a success.

In honor of this infamous week, known simply as CRCT Hell, here’s a repost of the blog I wrote about this time last year:

There is a well over-used cliché about the tension being so thick you can cut it with a knife. That’s unfortunate, I mean that the cliché has become, well, a cliché, because it’s a pretty good phrase.

But this week, across the state, you can pretty well cut the tension with a knife. Everyone is all smiles. But the smiles are tight. The kind you get when you’re about to go through a procedure that includes the words “root” and “canal.” And you hear something in the background along the lines of “what do you mean we’re out of anesthesia?”

Routines are no longer that. There are lots of discussions among the Sons of Thunder about the exact rules. Said discussions turn into debates, with deft phrases punctuating the air – words like “uh huh” and “uh uh” – in ever-increasing volume. More on that later.

Welcome to the Criterion-Referenced Competency Tests, affectionately known as the CRCTs. Also referred to as, borrowing yet another cliché, Hell Week.

There is a quite informative website run by the state to help parents understand why their kids are freaking out and teachers are screaming in the halls. Said site is, quoting verbatim, “producing well-designed assessments aligned to the state curriculum with timely dissemination of results.” In English, this means “we’re testing to see if your kid has learned anything and we’ll let you know as soon as we can.”

The friendly web site even lets us know what the CRCT is, as only a state can do: “The CRCT is designed to measure how well students acquire the skills and knowledge described in the Georgia Performance Standards (GPS). The assessments yield information on academic achievement at the student, class, school, system and state levels. This information is used to diagnose individual strengths and weaknesses as related to the instruction of the GPS, and to gauge the quality of education throughout Georgia.”

Again, in English this means “determining whether your kid is smart or dumb, and whether you’d kill to get into this school district or give it up, your school sucks.”

Apparently, we can blame all of this on some kid named Johnny. Who, again, apparently, got through school without knowing how to read. The nice people up in Washington were shocked, shocked I tell you. They immediately stopped sharpening their No. 2 pencils and decided everyone should take a test.

This has resulted in what down here is referred to as “teaching to the test.” And it’s also a time of knowing looks among parents, double-checking of ammo clips, hiding of silver and references to something about “The War of Northern Aggression” and “Damn Yankees.”

Our home is not immune.

The Little Black Dress lets it be known, more than once I might add, that she “suffered through test anxiety” when she was in school. And so she feels the Sons’ pain. For the record, I never said she freaked out and threw up every time the word “test” was mentioned.

To help the Sons get over any “test anxiety,” The Dress made sure they were prepared. This preparation involved the necessity of buying the Sons new sneakers. No, I do not understand the correlation.

Said preparation also involved buying pencils. This I understood. However, instead of getting a box of pencils, available just about anywhere, the LBD goes to the Big Bulk Store. Meaning she returns with not 10, but rather 1,000 No. 2 pencils. When she returned, I was about to ask what I thought was a rather obvious question; namely, do we need this many pencils?

Before I was able to utter anything, I got The Look. And she made the comment that the Sons would take extra pencils in case someone forgot to bring his/hers. So the entire school is now well-stocked. And the Sons’ backpacks look like some cactus plant.

So anyway. Last night I’m asking the Sons about the tests and before I get two words out …

“YOU CAN’T PEE!!!!”

“YOU CAN’T POOP!!!!”

“YOU CAN’T THROW UP!!!”

Wait, what was that last one?

“YOU CAN’T THROW UP … YOU HAVE TO HOLD IT!!!!”

There are other rules as well, which apparently vary depending on whether one is in elementary or middle school. Or, the rumors on said rules have taken a life of their own.

For the elementary school, one must sit quietly after finishing. No reading of library books allowed. However, one may play thumb wars – by oneself.  And now we know where the phrase “twiddling your thumbs” came about.

For the middle school, you apparently are required to read after finishing. Quoting the eldest Son, “they want to make sure our brains keep thinking.”"

The biggest debate is reserved for whether one may lay one’s head down on the desk. This will result in immediate removal and a meeting with The Man From The State, or is allowed provided you don’t fall asleep.

This Man From The State has taken on a life of its own. Either it’s a total fabrication or involves walking down a long dark hallway into a room with a single light bulb and coming face to face with a leather trench coat and monocle.

We’ll be able to lay this one to rest when the Sons come home this afternoon.

Or rather, if.

I’ve never really wrapped my head around Easter.

It’s like some weird catch-all day. Women don beautiful dresses and incredible hats; some bunny lays (allegedly) chocolate eggs all over the yard and your new carpet; and it’s the most important day – spiritually – for Christians.

Is it really a holiday?

It’s not Christmas, which is slowly losing the “Christ” part. But Christmas is definitely the longest holiday, starting Aug. 19 this year, according to the Farmer’s Almanac and the Big Box Stores. And we give gifts and gifts we can’t afford because a bunch of wise men did two centuries ago. Or  advertisers tell us we must and we must obey. Take your pick.

It’s not Thanksgiving, where people stuff themselves silly , get into family arguments over something that happened 14 years ago, and then fall asleep on the couch. It’s not Halloween when little kids – accompanied by parental patrol units these days – knock on your door and give you the “are you serious” look and you then thrown in more candy … and more candy. And it’s not the Fourth, where we see who can blow up their fingers while we celebrate our nation’s founding with, well, explosives.

For Christians, I understand Easter. Or at least the significance. For us, it’s really Resurrection Sunday – the day Christ rose from the dead. It is what Christianity hinges on. Everyone who lives must  first be born. Everyone who is born dies. There is, for Christians, one exception to that last sentence.

I just don’t get the “Easter” part. If you do a quick Internet search, you realize it has its beginnings in pagan fertility rituals, hence the egg thing. The whole bunny concept was brought over here by the Germans in the 1700s. Kind of complicated to explain it all here.

Easter is never mentioned in the Bible. Neither, for that matter, is Christmas. But the events are – the birth of Christ, the resurrection of Christ.

I can wrap my head around Christmas. God gave us the gift of his Son. We in turn have expanded that to give gifts to each other as we celebrate Christ’s birth. And we never let commercialism get in the way.

I can’t wrap my head around Easter. Christ rises from the dead. We in turn eat chocolate eggs delivered by a bunny. And sometimes we eat the bunny too, chocolate version that is.

Maybe that’s why Easter is a little different around our house. The Dress dons a beautiful dress and a smashing hat those old English queens and princesses would die for. So far, normal.

And the SONS actually dress up somewhat. I mean at least they tuck in their shirt and tie their shoes. We tried the old cute white Peter Pan outfit on Eldest SON one year at church. Why yes, I blogged about it here. Again, so far, normal.

We no longer do the egg hunt; but there’s still chocolate to be found in various Easter baskets hidden in the exact same place every year. And again, normal so far.

But somehow we started giving weapons on Easter. I have no idea. Maybe we hit our limit at Christmas and instead of waiting an entire year, we do a mini Christmas at Easter. I guess our Bunny understands our situation. By that, I mean he helps us out.

One year it was BB guns. Again, I have no idea. But as I recall the SONS really wanted BB guns for some reason and it was Easter and birthdays and Christmas were far off in the future and it was time to celebrate the ending of winter and …

Everyone was happy. Thank you Easter Bunny.

Another year it was Airsoft guns. And I don’t mean those little pistols, but full powered auto versions and sniper rifles. There was probably a Gatling gun in there somewhere. The bunny is aweseom

This year it was machetes. 18-inch blades with a saw blade on the top. Yeah, longer than the SONS’ arms. And for the record, I helped the Bunny with the BB guns. The Dress helped the Bunny with the machetes. Somehow, the Bunny knows.

And as I write the SONS are off in the woods behind our house cutting up and down, building lean-tos and probably a deadman’s trap or two.

When the LBD was helping the bunny with the machetes, she ran into some friends standing in line. She explained what she was doing and the dad asked if we were planning on killing the bunnies. Crazy idea as the Bunny was the one behind all this. And the son said he thought he got gipped on Easter as he never got anything cool like that.

On Easter Sunday, The Dress donned her finest, the SONS combed their hair and we went off to church. Machetes were left in the car.

And afterward, friends came over and we had a big feast. And all the kids went outside promising not to cut each other’s arms off.

Celebrating Easter. Celebrating the resurrection of Christ with friends, chocolate bunnies and machetes.

From the book Weird by Craig Groeschel

It is rather easy to write a  Thankful Thursday today because we have a lot to be thankful for as believers.  How blessed we are as Christians to know our hope is in Christ as we prepare for Easter Sunday!

Today is known to many as Maundy Thursday, it was the day that Jesus had the Last Supper with the disciples before his crucifixion on Friday. One of my fondest memories has always been attending the re-enactment of the Last Supper and even a foot washing service with my parents. It was always an awesome experience.

We refer to Friday as Good Friday, but it was certainly a day full of pain, torment and suffering for our Lord and Savior. For the believer, however, it is a good day.  A day when Jesus took on my sins, your sins and all the sins of the world.  Those sins that were, are and ever to be.

That is amazing love.  And remember the best part is Sunday is coming!  Resurrection Day!

Last spring I picked up my father’s bible and saw his hand written notes in it. What a gift.  What a legacy to have his bible but more importantly the Godly influence he imparted to me.  For a moment, I could not believe he and my mom are both gone.  Sometimes it feels like a dream.  A wave of loss washed over me that I could never describe, but all of you who have lost someone you love know that kind of grief I am talking about.  I thought to myself , God knows my pain because he too watched his Son suffer and die.  He cares about our every need, our greatest joys and our deepest sorrow.

I turned to one of my favorite books in the bible, John, and finally made my way to John 14.  

The first thing I read, which was underlined in pencil was the following:

John 14:1

Do not let your hearts be troubled, Trust in God; Trust in me.  In my father’s house there are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you.

What a comfort to read this passage “Do not let your heart be trouble”  and “In my father house there are many mansions.”  To all those who have lost loved ones, it is a comfort indeed. It was so wonderful to read those words. On this Thankful Thursday, dear friends, do not let your heart be troubled, trust in God. Our hope is in Christ and the we are indeed safe in the Cross of Christ. What a gift to be reminded of this. What a hope.  What a future we have in store for us!

I read further and the next scripture dad underlined was John 14:6

I am the way, the truth and the life.

He knew it and I am so blessed that I know it too!  For all who know Christ as their Lord and Savior, we know He is the way!  He is the way for help, for wisdom, for guidance, for freedom, for healing, for restoration, and for eternal life!  He is indeed the way, the only way!

He can help you break any addiction, any stronghold and any giant that you face!

As Winters writes in his book, Everyone needs a Sam, I love how He shared that Jesus is the Ultimate Sam.  He is the guy that says I can carry you and I carry your burden too.  He is the guy you want beside you and guarding your back,  you will never find a better mentor and friend than Jesus Christ. He will never leave you or forsake you!  I hope you know Him well and if not, I urge you to get to know this guy, this amazing Savior, Jesus Christ! You won’t be disappointed I promise.

This Easter I pray that you find your hope in Christ and Him alone and let the things of this world be less and less important and allow Christ to become more real in your life.

I hope you never forget how precious you are to God, so precious that He would send His only Son to die just for you! May we set our attention and gaze at the Cross of Christ this Thankful Thursday.

Be blessed and encouraged abundantly today as we celebrate what Christ did for us on the Cross and the resurrection of our Lord and Savior!

Remember dear friends, Sunday is Coming!

Praise Be To God!

I’m okay with them playing what I would call intellectual games – games that actually make them think, create, use their mind and not just their thumbs.

Hours of constantly shredding  zombies, however, gets old with me pretty fast. The fact I always get killed first when playing with them doesn’t help matters. And the shotgun doesn’t hold enough shells anyway.

It’s the time spent that bugs me. It doesn’t matter if they are actually being creative or searching for the plasma cannon that blows multiple targets at once. It is a waste of the one resource that cannot be replaced. And we’re not talking a few minutes here and there. I mean The Dress and I say they can get on for a few minutes, we get busy, look up and realize they’ve been on for hours.

Getting them off is akin to tearing a starving lion off a freshly killed zebra. Not that I have any experience in that, but I like the imagery.

When did electronic games become a right and not a privilege?

Because it seems it’s turning that way. So much so The Dress pretty well put down a threat of life and limb regarding time spent on electronics. School days are pretty well nixed completely; we’re still working on what constitutes adequate electronic time on the weekends. Let’s just say the term “adequate” has quite different definitions – depending on whether you ask me or the SONS.

The Dress and I are slowly getting the SONS to realize we’re pushing the privilege over a right approach. Rooms clean, chores done and depending on the weather, we’ll see.

Because we do throw out the proverbial parental line – “it’s perfectly gorgeous outside, go out and play.”

And they’ll sulk off muttering words like “heat stroke” and “dehydration” and “Sahara.”

And then they’ll be back and I’m what like, “what are you doing?”

And they’re like, “we’ve been outside for hours.” And that last work is stretched out for about a minute, complete with facial and hand expressions.

And I’ll like, “fifteen minutes does not constitute hours.” And I’ll stretch out that last word even longer than them and my hand/facial expressions are much better. Not to brag or anything.

Recently, Eldest Thunder SON was in one of his negotiating modes. It’s hard to explain, but involves leaps of what seem illogical logic and tit-for-tat and quid pro quo – a mental game that turns one’s brain to mush. And I finally say something to the effect that if he wanted to impress me – and possibly earn a little game time – try using the computer as a tool and not a toy.

So I head off somewhere for something and get back a few hours later. And Eldest has something he wants to show me. A little aside as to what is about to happen: the SONS and I enjoy backpacking and just camping out – even if it’s the backyard and hammocks.

Anyway, he got on the Internet. And then he got creative. And then he went outside.

And then he and a friend built/constructed/created a hammock – out of paracord no less. I was impressed. You can actually sleep in it and not fall and break your neck. Getting out of it is a little tricky, however.

This is not the first time he’s done the laptop-to-creative-to-outside conversion. He’s skinned a squirrel with a laptop as well. Both of those came from YouTube videos, a place where you can learn a lot or waste a lot.

A computer is a resource. It is simply a tool. It can be replaced. It can be a horrific waster of time. It can be an incredible educational tool.

Time is a resource.  It cannot be replaced.

We need fun in our lives. Zombies must be eliminated. But we need balance even more.