Tag Archives: Family

Dad notes: Family Devotions?

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Homeschool Devotions
With the New Year, I’m guessing some of you may be resolving to do a better job at having family devotional times in 2015. I say this because when I was parenting small kids, this was an area that I often wondered about. The nature of my wondering had to do with how best to appeal to my children’s hearts.

I want to explain, but first, a disclaimer:
In this blog, I do not presume to be a parenting expert dispensing advice. However, Mollie and I found that one of the most helpful things for us when we were young parents raising small children was to hear the experiences of other parents. Hearing different perspectives helped us to think through things more carefully. Evangelical subculture can sometimes tend to feel a bit one-size-fits-all. Mollie and I found that some things that worked well with one child didn’t necessarily work with another. So we’ve tried to resist the urge to dogmatize our parenting practices.

Here’s the deal: I believe that following Jesus is the utmost adventure. Life in the kingdom, even in the mundane things in life, is deep, meaningful, and foremost. I’ve always hoped my kids would ultimately view the things of God in the same way, rather than viewing, let’s say Bible study, as an obligation.

So how do we impart passion for God to our kids?

Well, a lot of us view family devotions as one way to do this. But for my family, the times I tried this, I could see my kids’ eyes glazing over. And I don’t think the problem was my content or delivery. The problem, (if it’s even correct to call it that,) was my kids – they simply weren’t in the right frame of mind to want to hear it. It was too abstract for them. They weren’t emotionally engaged. I was trying to excite them from the outside.

We’re all aware that there is a school of thought that says this is only to be expected, and that we should push forward anyway. It’s a matter of discipline, and we push through because we know it’s good and right for them. They’re still receiving truth, and the Holy Spirit can use it in their lives even if it is at a later time. I think this is a legitimate way of thinking, and I’ll return to it in a moment.

However, as a dad, I opted for a different approach. It felt wrong to me to bore my kids with God’s revelation – the one thing in the world by which I wanted them to be inspired. So I opted for a 2 part plan: 1) Mollie and I would model a vibrant life of faith to them, and, 2) we would actively look for teachable moments with our kids, and take advantage of those moments.

By “teachable moments” I refer to times throughout the day when their hearts and minds were engaged with a question or problem. I felt that at these times their hearts were primed to receive spiritual instruction. Sometimes it was discussions around the dinner table about the day’s events. Sometimes it was conversations at bedtime. Sometimes it was in the heat of a moment of conflict or worry. Often these moments included praying with them, and praying for them or for a friend, on the spot. Always my aim was for them to feel the relevance of God in our lives in every situation. I was generally prepared to drop everything else when these moments came up.

A Parallel Example
I think the example of learning a musical instrument provides a parallel that clarifies the difference between these two approaches.

On the one hand, parents can take the approach of making a child take music lessons even when that child doesn’t want lessons, and it’s a fight to get them to practice. I have a friend whose mom made him practice violin for an hour everyday at 5:30 every morning, which he hated. Today he is grateful to her. He has played for the St. Louis Philharmonic, and plays violin everyday because he loves it. (But not, presumably, at 5:30 am.)

On the other hand, parents can take the approach of waiting until a child wants to learn an instrument, and the desire to do so is something the child owns. We’ve taken this approach with a couple of our teenagers. They’ve had a lot of catching up to do, but their hearts are in it, and it’s fun and exciting for them. It would be strange for us to remind them to practice because they’re self-motivated, and learning the instrument was their idea in the first place.

I honestly don’t know if one approach is better than another, though obviously I lean toward the latter. For years I’ve been asking accomplished musicians their opinions on the question and have gotten mixed answers.

Paying Attention to Your Child’s Heart
When it comes to raising up kids who are passionate for God, I have also seen mixed results. We all want the same things for our kids, but sometimes our efforts as parents do not produce the intended results. I have seen plenty of kids who were so burnt out on “spiritual disciplines” that they wanted to be done with God, the church, and the Bible as soon as they could leave home. For others, spiritual disciplines seem to have helped them hit the ground running when they left home as young adults.

I have heard some pastors urging parents to require their kids to regularly journal and memorize Bible verses. I approached these subjects with my kids as a suggestion, but I always felt that requiring these things of them would serve to make these things drudgery for them. I wanted them to do these things, but from the heart – not because I required it of them.

It is interesting having adult children who are now passionate about Jesus, because I can ask them about my parenting. They have confirmed that they would probably have resented being required to engage in spiritual disciplines that would’ve seemed dry to them at the time. Most are grateful that I didn’t make them regularly sit through “boring” family devotions, (although my oldest son did like them.)

Your experience may be different from mine. If so, that’s great! I’m elated that what you are doing is working for your family. My intent is not to be critical of the idea of family devotions. My hope in writing this is to encourage parents who may be struggling with feeling as though they are failing because their (formal) family devotional times are sporadic, or non-existent, or not working. Within the parameters of a Spirit-led life there is more than one way to have a home that is centered around Jesus. I’m inclined to think that serving others as a family would be more helpful for everyone involved than sitting around on the sofa talking about serving others.

The kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power.

A Caveat
I can think of one context where the systemized impartation of biblical instruction makes sense to me, regardless of whether or not the child’s heart is in it: in a home school setting.

In this case, most of what he or she is learning is viewed by both parent and student as a requirement that must be carried out. It is school, after all. With our three oldest children, Mollie started off the school day with a devotional time, and memorizing verses was a part of their curriculum. We think this benefited those three. When we moved to Colorado, Mollie had to start working, and our youngest two did not receive this benefit. But with all five, I still believe the real work of discipling was and is done in the course of “real life.”

The guy who discipled me during my college years used to say, “More is caught than is taught.” I believe there is a lot of truth in that.

Finally, I’m firmly convinced that good, compelling stories are one of the best ways to impart a biblical worldview to young children – it’s the very reason I started Big Picture Publishing. The reason I think this is that stories engage the heart and emotions as well as the intellect, and that is when lasting impressions are made. Thank you for supporting me in this project as I support you.

Please feel free to share your experiences below, whether you agree or disagree with me. Your comments may be of help to other parents. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

My Little Christmas Book Sale

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On August 31, 2014, I launched my new online children’s book company and introduced my first new kids’ book, The Cocky Rooster. I had planned to release my second new storybook in time for Christmas, but alas, I’ve been too overwhelmed with other projects.

Instead, I’ve decided to offer Naomi’s Gift at a reduced price for the month of December. Naomi’s Gift is an award-winning Christmas storybook that I published in 2006; the first children’s book that I wrote and illustrated.

Naomi's Gift by Scott FreemanAbout Naomi’s Gift
Several years ago I received a newsletter in the mail that contained a story called The Tiny Foot. It was a powerful, true story told by a doctor named Frederic Loomis, who practiced in the 1920s. Each year thereafter, my Christmas season would not be complete unless I pulled out that old newsletter and read Dr. Loomis’s story again. When I was given an opportunity to write and illustrate my own Christmas picture book, I knew I wanted to adapt Dr. Loomis’s story.

Naomi’s Gift tells the story of a young frontier doctor who struggles to justify delivering a deformed baby girl to a poor farming family. Years later, he meets a mysterious young woman who helps him to make peace with his decision. The book concludes with a fitting summary of the meaning of Christmas and the good news of the coming of Jesus.

I recommend Naomi’s Gift for kids 7 and up, including adults who still love Christmas and beautifully illustrated storybooks. Also, I recommend having a tissue nearby while reading.

Order in time for Christmas!
Ordinarily, Naomi’s Gift sells for $21 on my fine art website.
Now, through mid-December I’m offering hardcover editions of Naomi’s Gift for $16.
That price will include shipping, and I’ll sign every book as well!

In order to guarantee delivery by Christmas, please order Naomi’s Gift by December 10.

The Cocky Rooster by Scott FreemanOf course you can also purchase my new book, The Cocky Rooster. However, I received notice from my printer that, in order to guarantee your order by Christmas, you must place your Cocky Rooster order by December 1st.
As in, the FIRST DAY of December. That’s very soon!

To order either book, visit my Big Picture Publishing BOOK STORE.

Happy Thanksgiving, and thank you again for your support!

Scott

Dinner Table Tales

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Thanksgiving dinner

Thanksgiving dinner with our foreign exchange student – 2012

Sharing a meal with others is one of life’s great, relational, creative expressions. It goes without saying that mealtimes serve an essential practical purpose – that of nourishing our bodies – but at the same time, sharing a meal is (or can be) a spiritually meaningful and life-enhancing act.

Of course, growing up, I didn’t appreciate this. Our family ate dinner together every evening. This seemed to me to be a routine, mundane part of suburban life. I was more interested in finding a way around eating my helping of canned peas than in relating to my family in a positive way. But I believe the habit of eating together had a lasting and positive effect on me.

There is a proverb of Solomon that says, “Better is a dry morsel and quietness with it than a house full of feasting with strife” (Prov 17:1.) We now know scientifically that stress and strife is bad for the digestion. By contrast, relaxing around a table as a nourishing act of mutual enjoyment, and as an expression of unity, is a God-ordained pleasure. It’s interesting that with the establishment of the New Covenant 2000 years ago, Jesus used a meal as a sign by which to remember the covenant; a covenant that was intended to be characterized by love and unity. This meal is often referred to as “the communion meal.”

On an everyday level, one of the best practices we can share as families is to practice the habit of sharing a meal together around the table, looking into each other’s faces, and seeking to enjoy each other’s company.

Meal sharing is an act of communion.

I read an interview in the late 80’s that for some reason stuck with me. Dweezil Zappa was talking about his then-upcoming TV show, “Normal Life,” co-starring his sister, Moon Unit. He said something like, “Our show is going to be about real families, where everyone eats their food in separate rooms in front of a TV.” As though families eating meals together is a cheesy Ozzie and Harriet thing that cool people don’t do.

Whatever. Being cool is overrated.

Eating with actual human beings
Sure, it takes more effort, but relationship is what life is all about, after all. Even as an unmarried college student in midtown Kansas City, when I lived in a 3-story house sharing rent with 6 other art students, this ethic came through. Enough of us had been raised this way that we determined that we wanted to create a community rather than simply serve as a cheap boarding house. One of the first things we decided toward this end was to share a meal together at least once a week.

When Mollie and I got married, we decided early on as our young family began to grow, that we would try to make it a practice to always eat meals together around the table as a family, with TVs and electronic devices turned off, and earphones pulled out.

A Story About Dinner and Art
Many years later, Mollie and I moved our family to Colorado so that we could pursue careers as fine artists. Some of our old college friends from the 3-story house, now a married couple and living in Loveland, had offered to let us stay with them for a few months until we could get ourselves established. They had 3 kids, and we had 5, and their house was probably too small for this endeavor. But they welcomed us in nonetheless.

One of the first things we did was to fix the situation with the dining room table. We knew we wanted to share meals together, and our host’s dining room table was too small for all 12 of us. So my friend Mike got a nice 4×8 ft board, and, since we were all artists, we decided to turn the table into a community art project involving all the kids.

We thought it would be fun to get everybody’s handprints on the table, as a small monument to our love and friendship. We had all the kids and adults interlace hands and arms around the table, something like this:

Tabletop design ideaThen we spray-painted over everyone’s hands to create a handprint border around the edge of the table. (We first applied lotion to everyone’s hands so that the paint would come off easily.) On the underside of the table, each kid wrote their name under their handprints to identify them. Then, back on top, we helped the kids stencil some primitive animal shapes running through the center of the table to complete the design. I designed the stencils to be suggestive of Native American art imagery.

Below is a shot of the finished tabletop.

colorado animals-tabletopI will always fondly remember that crazy season of starting over in Colorado, made possible because of the friendship of this family.

Some sad observations from across the pond
I recently read an article by British doctor and psychiatrist, Anthony Daniels, who has worked extensively in some of Britain’s deeply impoverished areas. His duties required him to visit the homes of his patients, and to personally interview them. Daniels recounts some universal patterns he saw in Britain’s underclass:

“Everyone lived in households with a shifting cast of members, rather than in families. If there was an adult male resident, he was generally a bird of passage with a residence of his own somewhere else. He came and went as his fancy took him…

I should mention a rather startling fact: By the time they are 15 or 16, twice as many children in Britain have a television as have a biological father living at home…Few homes were without televisions with screens as large as a cinema – sometimes more than one – and they were never turned off, so that I often felt I was examining someone in a cinema rather than in a house. But what was curious was that these homes often had no means of cooking a meal, or any evidence of a meal ever having been cooked beyond the use of a microwave, and no place at which a meal could be eaten in a family fashion. The pattern of eating in such households was a kind of foraging in the refrigerator, as and when the mood took, with the food to be consumed sitting in front of one of the giant television screens.

Surveys have shown that a fifth of British children do not eat a meal more than once a week with another member of their household, and many homes do not have a dining room table. Needless to say, this pattern is concentrated in the lower reaches of society, where so elementary but fundamental a means of socialization is now unknown. Here I should mention in passing that in my hospital, the illegitimacy rate of the children born in it, except for those of Indian-subcontinental descent, was approaching 100 percent.”
(Imprimis: The Worldview that Makes the Underclass)

What a sobering glimpse of a government welfare state. The government has essentially become the household provider, the nuclear family has disintegrated, and there consequently isn’t even a table around which to share a meal.

Rise up and share a meal!
My purpose here is not to criticize Dweezil Zappa, or the underclass of Britain, or TV watching. My point is simply to encourage connection and communion within households. Whether you are living with family or friends, if you are currently not connecting with those around you, why not start the adventure now? If you are already committed to meal sharing with those you love, then may these thoughts serve as affirmation that you are doing a good thing. Keep it up, you crazy radicals!

Sometimes we do good things almost by accident, or by inertia, or habit. This is certainly better than not doing those things at all. However, at times I have found that doing those same things with intentionality and purpose reminds me to make the most of the moment. Meal sharing is one of those things. Reinforcing your values by reading stories regularly with your kids or grandkids is another. In this blog I’ll periodically share encouragement on other life-enhancing practices.

May God strengthen you to create a culture of life and love within your own family!
A Happy Thanksgiving to you,

Scott

Animal stencils-detail

(Tabletop detail.) Feel free to share a dinnertime story or memory below…

 

 

 

 

Confessions of a Revisionist Dad

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lullabies and nursey rhymesRevisionism can cut both ways.

A few years ago my wife and I were in a public place with one of our teenaged daughters. She happened to hear the lyrics from the lullaby, Rock-a-bye Baby, and her mouth dropped open. She turned to us and exclaimed, “Did you hear what they said?”

“What?” I innocently asked.

“They said the bough breaks and the baby falls out of the tree!” she replied. “That’s terrible!”

My wife and I sheepishly looked at each other. “Umm…actually… those are the real lyrics,” I said, grinning.

“Are you serious?!…

I guess I forgot to tell my daughter that when she and our other children were small, I made a small change to the classic lullaby, and changed a few bedtime stories to boot.

The first time I started singing Rock-a-bye-Baby at bedtime with my first child, I stopped myself mid-lullaby. I thought it seemed almost like a taunt; sweetly singing to a child about the wind blowing and breaking the branch, and the baby then falling out of the tree. ‘Sweet dreams, kid! I imagined him lying in the dark after I kissed him goodnight, wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling, fitfully drifting off to sleep, having nightmares about falling. So I changed the lyrics to:

Rock-a-bye baby in the treetop,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock,
When the bow breaks the cradle will fall,
And Daddy will catch you, cradle and all.

And that’s what our kids grew up hearing. After adding this to my repertoire of bedtime lullabies, and singing it to our five kids over a period of years, after a while I never thought about it anymore.

A lot of old nursery rhymes left me scratching my head. What were these people thinking? Did they hate children? Were they even parents? Who wrote Jack and Jill, and Little Miss Muffet? And that one about the blackbird pecking off the maid’s nose? (Apparently, a 1744 version published in London had “four and twenty naughty boys baked in a pye.” Which, I guess, grisly though it is, at least has a point.)

With contemporary books it’s sometimes easier to guess the author’s intentions. A couple of my kids liked a certain storybook that I had picked up, used, from a garage sale. I purchased it because the illustrations were very nice, and, as an illustrator, I enjoyed looking at them. Plus, I liked the idea of the story. It was narrated by a little girl, and the story was really just her talking about her family, her dog, and her grandparents, and their lives together. I no longer have the book, but I’m pretty sure it was called, Come to Our House, Meet Our Family. It made for a cheerful and pleasant bedtime story.

I would guess the book was published in the late 1960’s or 70’s, and it seemed clear to me that part of the author’s intent was to normalize the idea of both Dad and Mom working outside the home. (The mom was a dentist.) I was fine with that, but I also wanted to do a little normalizing of my own. Toward the end of the book, there was an illustration of the Mom and Dad, and the boy and girl, and Smudge, the dog, all laughing together on the parent’s big blue bed. It said something like:

“On Sunday mornings my brother and I jump into Mom and Dad’s bed and wake them up. After a while we all go downstairs and make breakfast together.”

I would always cheerfully add a simple line that wasn’t really there: “Then we go to church!”

I had been struck by how rarely church-going is mentioned as a normal part of life in books and movies. As though it’s an embarrassing habit that we should all be quiet about. As though no one attends church in this country! Since this was a simple, unremarkable story about a normal family, I thought it would be nice for my kids to grow up thinking that going to church was simply a normal part of life. In fact they did grow up thinking this, but no thanks to the storybooks we read. Except for maybe this one.

I suppose someone might argue that classic fairy tales and nursery rhymes are the pinnacle of children’s literature for young children, but I’m not that person. Some I like very much, but some of them are downright creepy. I think there is room in the world for some children’s stories that are intentional about reinforcing a biblical worldview, yet without being so pedagogical that all of the enjoyment is sucked out. My conversations with other parents and grandparents have led me to believe I’m not alone in thinking this.

I would love to hear suggestions and insights from other parents on the subject of children’s books and stories. What do you like? What do your kids love? What is missing?

children's storybooks-fables

Watercolor illustration from The Cocky Rooster – coming in July 2014

UPDATE: I’m happy to say that my first new book, The Cocky Rooster, is finished and I’m waiting to get proofs back from the print-on-demand company before I make it available to you. My next post will introduce you to the book specifically.

I’ll talk to you then! May God bless you as you seek to make Him known to the children in
your care,

— Scott Freeman

For Father’s Day: My Favorite Dad Story

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Recent near-death experiences and other delays have put me behind schedule for releasing the June storybook. So in a good faith effort to post something here, while not taking too much time away from the work that still needs to be done, I’m re-posting my favorite Dad story. This was originally posted last year on my Art & Life Notes blog:

Today I share my all time favorite super-hero-dad story – a true story about my dad. Over 30 years later, I still smile every time I think about it. I hope it makes you smile as well.

First, I must describe my dad because it’s an integral part of the story. Growing up I saw my dad as a pretty impressive figure. More than any other man I knew, his physique most closely resembled the Marvel Comic super-heroes that I followed. My dad was a blue-collar, union guy, working in construction as an iron-worker foreman until the day he retired. This alone impressed me. I knew he spent his days several stories above ground, welding, and carrying heavy bundles of iron across the skeletal I-beams of tall buildings. His job was physically demanding, dangerous, and cool, and I heard him say more than once how much he loved it.

Years of working high up next to the sun had turned his skin dark brown. My sister’s friend once mistook him for a black guy while sitting behind him in church. Viewed from the front, he had blue eyes, and not a hint of the usual construction-worker’s beer gut. In fact, even though my dad was a “man’s man,” I never once heard him swear, or saw him take a drink, or smoke anything. Now that I think of it, I guess I don’t even remember hearing him belch. He was generally soft-spoken, and rarely raised his voice with my mom or us kids. Nobody’s perfect, but my dad at least never gave us reason to think that he doubted his Southern Baptist beliefs.

DAD-blogI think it took my dad a while to grow into being a great dad. I think initially he saw his role as simply being a great provider. My early memories of him are of a large, dark, mostly silent figure either reading the paper, or working around the house. Always on a project and mostly speaking in monosyllables. Or, at the dinner table I would watch in awe, looking up at him as he silently downed vast amounts of food and poured quart sized glasses of white milk down his brown throat. He wasn’t a jerk; he was just mysterious. But mystery is way overrated.

Sometime during my early teenage years, I realized he had undergone a transformation.

He had become totally engaged. He played Saturday morning tennis and Tuesday night volleyball with my siblings and me. He coached my sister’s softball team. But more importantly he began talking and joking around with us. He could be pretty funny. He became a warmer and closer human being.  I could relate to him in ways that I wouldn’t have dreamed of before.

For example, he was impossible to buy gifts for. What do you buy for a guy like this? Nails? Knives? Ammo? A spittoon? Lava soap? A heavy-duty razor? Meat? Well, unless he was at church he always wore a baseball cap, so one year for Father’s Day I bought him a dark blue hat with bright red plush wings on the side. Like something the Greek god Hermes might wear. I got it as a joke, assuming he would never wear it in public. But, indicative of his astounding midlife personality transformation, he did wear it. And this is also part of my story.

DAD hat blgOne summer, my dad, my brother, and I were all playing on the church softball team together. (Slow-pitch softball would be a sacrament in the Southern Baptist Church, if the SBC had sacraments.) We had a big, night game at a large, lit-up field surrounded by woods. My dad was one of the team’s best players, but on this particular night he was out of uniform, sitting in the stands because he had injured his hamstrings at work. He was wearing the blue hat with the red wings.

It so happened that our team was a couple of guys short that night. The coach went into the stands to try to persuade my dad to play, because otherwise we would have to forfeit the game. But my dad could hardly walk. He agreed though. The plan was to have a pinch-runner for him, and to put him in the bottom of the batting order, so we could at least play the game out.

Eventually it came time for my dad to bat. As he hobbled out to the plate, I heard the crowd murmuring, and I saw someone pointing at dad’s legs. My dad was wearing mid-thigh-length shorts. (This was the 1980’s, after all.) He didn’t realize this, but everyone could clearly see large black and blue bruises on the back of his legs. I have already mentioned how dark my dad was, but I failed to mention that this only applied to his upper body. His legs were as white as the wind-driven snow. He must’ve been in his early 50’s at this point. He was wearing a button down plaid shirt. I’ll just say that with his dark brown arms, plaid shirt, shorts and white bruised legs, and that dorky hat, this was probably not Dad’s most intimidating look.

The manly, uniformed pitcher turned to the outfield and waved the outfielders to move in closer. The manly, uniformed outfielders all moved in closer. I thought to myself, “Hmmm.” My dad took the first pitch. Strike one. On the second pitch my dad beat the snot out of the ball, sending it over the center fielder’s head and into the freaking woods. The whole place erupted. The other team was so hacked, throwing their hats down in the dirt and walking around in little circles with their hands on their hips. Our team was all shouting and cracking up, and the coach, laughing, just waved at my dad to walk the bases himself, since a ball hit into the woods is considered an automatic homer.

I will never forget the sight of my dad literally baby-step-hobbling around the bases, taking F-O-R…E-V-E-RRRRR, which just prolonged the opposing team’s agony. And all with that goofy winged hat on, unintentionally mocking them. As this cartoonish base-rounding formality dragged on, people in the stands were whooping it up and shouting out comments to my dad, it was all so endearingly pathetic. It was like watching a hurried, plaid penguin making its way across dry land.

Then, suddenly, just as we all thought the utter goofiness had reached its climax, the opposing team erupted again, crazily shouting, “THROW IT! THROW IT!!!” The dazed center fielder had emerged from the woods holding the ball. Waking, as if from a dream, eventually he realized that my dad still hadn’t made it around the bases! In fact he had just rounded third. These young bucks were actually going to try to throw the cripple out at home!

The center fielder sprang into action and hit the cut-off man. The cut-off man threw to home, (a bit high.) My dad and the ball arrived at home plate at the same time. But Dad had one more little trick up his plaid sleeve. He executed a perfect hook slide into home, falling away from the catcher as only his toe crossed the plate. The catcher missed the tag. The umpire cried, “SAFE!” Utter pandemonium broke loose. But at this point, even the other team had to start laughing and shaking their heads, and shaking my dad’s hand.

Sometimes you just have to submit to awesomeness.

Happy Father’s Day to my awesome dad!

father and son

My dad and me.