God spoke through a postcard and a pop lyric!

My wife Philbe and I are involved with TSM at our church the Kings Arms in Bedford UK. We oversee the pastoral care of the students each year. I love it!

A few weeks ago we were looking at prophecy and as part of the session we had a go at practising over each other. We split into groups and laid out lots of postcards face down infront of us. Everyone was given the opportunity to pick a postcard at random and then turn it over to see the picture on the other side.

This one lady picked up a card full of roadwork signs. As I looked at it all I could think about was the lyrics of that band Men At Work. The lyrics were “Do you come from a land down under”. So being the brave soul that I am I asked her if she and her husband had a heart for the nations and especially Australia. Turned out that they do!

I spent 5 minutes prophesying over her about the calling over her family, about the opportunities that God had predestined for them in that nation. I think she left TSM that day 100% sure that as a family they were heading in the right direction!

God amazes me with the creative ways he likes to get our attention!

What’s in a name

So this week has seen the long awaited arrive of my friends baby girl Hero Darcey Jane Peacock. Totally love that name and it got me wondering why we call our kids what we do.

When we discovered we were going to have our first baby we spent hours talking about names and loving or hating each other’s suggesting.  Just before our 22 week scan we came up with 1 name we agreed on. Lottie Mai was the agreed title and so the discovery that our bump had a todger was a major blow and the whole process started again. I liked Seth, she liked Dominic, I like Hector and she really didn’t!!

In the end I got to choose.  Jasper has always been a name I have loved.  It’s derived either from the Persian name Caspar, meaning “treasurer,” or the Persian word “yashp,” meaning “spotted stone”, which is of course a semi-precious form of quartz. However to me it does have a more personal reason and I think it was this that sold it to my wife! In the book of Revalations we are told that God sits on a throne made of Jasper. The reason for this is that the jasper is said to reflect the Glory, the goodness and kindness of the his majesty. My dream, my hope for Jasper is that he will be a person who reflects Gods glory, his goodness and kindness to others just as the throne reflects the goodness and kindness of my father in heaven.

When only 17 months later we got pregnant again it was Philbe who got to choose. We waited until we knew that bump was a boy and then started to think and discuss! We were sitting around one evening with some friends who were doing the obligatory name-throwing-around-game when someone shouted Harvey. It totally caught Philbe’s attention. When we looked it up we discovered that Harvey means Battle Worthy which some think is a rather harsh and negative meaning but for us it made the name even more perfect.  We like the aspect of the word worth as it speaks of worth or excellence; possessing merit; valuable; deserving; estimable; excellent; virtuous. The period when Harvey was born was a really tough time for us on lots of levels but Harvey’s birth forged something deep and meaningful in our little family. We overcame a battle and were found virtuous enough to have a son, Harvey.

From time to time our boys will ask us to make their bedtime story the story of why we picked their names. I love being able to snuggle down with them and tell them about why we chose to call them Jasper and Harvey. As they listen I get to fill their minds with the dreams we have for them and how they can always remember these dreams hidden in their names. I can sow into their DNA the characteristics that their names conjure up. They always seem to wake up 10 feet taller after they hear these stories.

So, what’s in a name?

Growth Spurts, Mario Costumes and Tree Climbing – Just a Typical Weekend!

Not sure if it’s my age or the age of my boys, but these days the weekend knackers me out! I get to Monday morning and feel like the proverbial bus has not just knocked me down but reversed and taken a second pop.

I’m 42, should I feel this exhausted? Has my ability to keep up with life peaked? Am I on the downward slope to slippers and bed by 9pm? The boys are 5 and 7, everything in me knows that I still have years ahead of me in regards to keeping up with their passion and enthusiasm for life. I have years of rough and tumble, Saturday morning adventures and sport to drag this bag of tiredness through!  Is there an elixir of youth I can take and is it available on the NHS?

The highlight of this weekend was whilst attending the 3^rd party of the weekend, rescuing Jasper from up a tree. I had warned him against going too high and that getting up is easier than getting down, but my sage words of advice went unheard, washed away by the deaf zeal of 7-year-old optimism.  As I looked down from the top branches of my mate’s apple tree, I couldn’t help but mutter the words of many a dad in such a situation:

“I’m getting to old for this!”

Six

This month I am no longer dad to a 5 year old as Harvey rocks into being six. I’m a little sad if the truth be told.

If you ask any parent what age did they most enjoy their kids being, you will get lots of different responses; the baby years, the teens, 7-10. Everyone has their favourite for all sorts of personal reasons.

I know that Harvey and I have lots of amazing years ahead of us and they are full of possibilities and new depths of friendship. But that said I will miss elements of his early years that can never be revisited. Here then, as a tribute to “Harvey the early years” is my list of things I miss already.

• The slat-slat sound of his tiny feet on our wooden floors when he was learning to walk
• The way he would tilt his head,  dribble and smile when I fed him every Sunday morning
• His bath-routine and tickles with the baby powered
• The feeling of his breath as he clung on tight around my neck and snuggled in
• Rocking him to sleep in my arms
• The sound of his little boy giggle
• His innocence

These early years will forever be summed up in one single image and so today I thought I’d share this image with you. They say that a picture paint a thousand words and for me this image captures all that I love and prize about the last 1826 days of my life.

 

Bedroom Dilemma!

Firstly let me state that the bedroom related dilemma does not occurring in the main bedroom of our house but Jaspers room.

I’m a clean freak; I verge on OCD about everything having a place and things being put away in the right place at the end of the day. I know to some I am the perfect husband and to others I am not! It took a few years for my own wife to appreciate my anal tidying nature but once the kids came along that which had been a negative part of my character soon became a shining strength and a much pleasing attribute.

This weekend my only goal was to get Jasper to tidy his room. I say only because when you face climbing the Matterhorn of all parenting situations it’s good not have lots of other objectives going on at the same time! Jasper is a great kid but he does feel cosy around mess! Like most kids, the idea of putting things back after you have played with them or making sure that all the bits are back in the box for next time is as unfathomable as quantum physics.  Bits of toy, random Lego pieces, single Top Trump cards end up everywhere and then when it’s time to play the infamous words fill the air “I have nothing to play with because the bits are missing from my toys”.

Every month I climb the Matterhorn, every month I help Jasper tidy his room, every month we go through the basket that sits on the stairs (aka the dumping ground) and sort Lego pieces back into their sets, reunite plastic guns to plastic soldiers, refill Nerf guns with bullets found under beds, restock the bookcase with books from the four corners of the house. Every month the same and every month I think to myself to tidy or not to tidy.

Thankfully Harvey takes after me…enough said!

Am I A Good Daddy?

Deep inside this 42 year old father of 2, hubby of 1, sibling, son, uncle, friend, professional person is a deep rooted fear. I know that I’m not alone in this place because a few years ago a friend of mine let down his guard and spoke out the words that have filled my head for years.

He told me that each morning as he shaves he looks in the mirror and sees a 12 year old boy staring back. What he sees is a 12 year old boy trying to fill the space of a fully grown man and his fear is that one day, at some random point, others will realise that he is just a scared kid who doesn’t have what it takes.

One of the intrinsic core values that dads equip their kids with is this; you have what it takes, you can succeed.

When my boys are standing halfway up a climbing frame, when they are learning to ride their bike, when they are struggling with school work my role is to coach them to stretch a little higher, keep their eyes forward, and apply their minds a little deeper. My role is to broaden their view of themselves through life’s experience. I’m not saying that I need to teach my kids to succeed and always overcome, that’s not it at all. It’s about growing an inner confidence in my kids that leaves them knowing they have what it takes to do life. This might mean that they are confident to roll their sleeves up and dive in or confident enough to ask for help when they know they need it.

In my early parenting years I wasn’t confident enough to ask for help, to say I wasn’t sure what to do. Well, just like my buddy, I decided to drop the mask of masculine togetherness and say that I don’t always feel like I know what I’m doing and I need others to help me out. I need others to give me the advice and support I need at times if I’m going to truly support my kids be all that they can be. At times in order for them to know they have what it take I’ve grown to realise it’s ok to say I need others to bring that out of me first.

Thanks for a great weekend!

Every Sunday night when we put the boys to bed they hear the same phrase from me. I think it started about 2 years ago and I’ve used it every Sunday bedtime since.

In thanking the boys for a great weekend I tell them what I enjoyed about spending time together as a family, especially highlighting what it was that I liked about bonding with each of them individually.

Last night I thanked Harvey for the fun we had snuggled up on Saturday evening in his bed. He was sad that me and mum were going out for a meal so I got to snuggle up with him whilst he nodded off. I loved lying there feeling his breath on my face, his arm growing weightier across my shoulder as he fell into dreamland.  As I lay there I recalled an older friend’s comments around his own father’s last words. His dads told him that in his latter years he would recall moments spent with his kids. He would recall the vivid feelings, emotions, smells, anything that helped him to relive the moment. I decided a while ago to take Kodak moments in my head of time spent with my kids. I thanked Harvey for a Kodak moment that will stay with me forever.

What did I thank Jasper for last night? Was it around the special bonding time we had on Saturday evening that consisted of his constant screaming and whinging as I tried to wash his hair? Strangely not! Was it around the tantrum of having to turn off the computer after his allotted time on Saturday morning? Or maybe it was around any of his other struggles this weekend in sharing, caring or doing as he was told! No, I thanked him for forgiving me when I lose patience, I thanked him for the way he enriches my life and the life of our little family, I thanked him for the unexpected hug he gave me on Sunday morning.

I love spending the weekend looking out for the things to mention at Sunday bedtime.

Harvey says..

I was talking to a mate this weekend who said that he loves reading Harvey’s profound thoughts that often fill my facebook status. So here  for your delectation, delight and enjoyment are some of my favourite Harvey’s thoughts on life, travel and personal ablutions!

Best Harvey moment today – we were watching Peter Pan (not the Disney one) and Harvey was peeking through his hand because he was a bit scared. I asked him if he was ok and his serious reply was – ‘I was born ok!’

Today I woke up to 6am with Harvey singing his favourite Madonna song, Papa Don’t Preach! Funniest thing was he kept singing ‘Papa don’t preach, I’m in troubled sleep!’

Harvey asked me this morning -’why can’t we just go to Hawaii?’ a question I’m sure we’ve all asked at some point in our lives! He suggested I book tickets on a free plane not a 3 plane but a free one with free tickets!

I walked in the living room to hear Harvey say to Jasper, “if its broken fix it with goose tape” Jasper “what” Harvey “you know goose tape for fixing things” Me “Harvey do you mean Duck Tape”

I bought Harvey a new hat today. I liked it because it’s so cool, he loves it because it’s magic. This hat ladies and gents, makes you Moonwalk!

Harvey as we are walking out the door to school “People will love me today” Me “why” Harvey “coz my neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew shooooooes are awesome”!

Harvey cracks me up – when told that he’s going to have a shower he has a huge tantrum and shouts ‘I don’t like bathrooms – bathrooms are boring!’

I love my Harvey.

Why I Hug My Children

For those of us old enough to remember the news stories that came out of Romania in the late 80’s/ early 90’s, the plight of the Romanian orphans personifies institutionalised neglect and abuse. Under Nicolae Ceausescu, both abortion and contraception were forbidden which led to a rise in birth rates and, in turn, resulted in many children being abandoned.

I had a friend who gave up a year to go and work amongst these children, taking his skills there in order to make a difference. There were many stories I remember hearing about the plight of those forgotten children, but it’s the haunting conclusion of a social observation that made me determined to hug my kids as often as possible.

Sociologists found two identical orphanages -same size, same ratio of staff and children, same conditions. The only difference was that in one orphanage the babies died well before their first birthdays and yet in the other the majority survived.

After months of observation the sociologist found one other difference between the two institutions. Although the children in the first orphanage were fed and changed they were never picked up and hugged for long periods of time.  Whereas their counter parts in the second orphanage would be picked up and held by staff as they went about their duties.

The sociologists concluded one thing – that the babies were dying for want of human contact and physical touch. And their reasoning why this was vital for survival? Human contact, the process of bonding with another made the babies feel loved.

Scepticism aside for a moment – how many of us have survived hard times because we have felt the love of those around us?

I find an excuse to – as our Yankee pals would say – “love on my kids” as often as I can.

Lego Helps You Grieve

The last Monday in November 2010 turned out to be a milestone dad day for me.

It was the day my father died, he was 81. His death wasn’t a surprise but it was all rather quick. It’s not the loss of a dad that made me emotional over the  week that followed as much as what I’ve got to know about him that I didn’t know before. It’s the things I noticed about him from the paperwork he left for me and my sister to go through. It’s the stories his surviving brothers told me. It’s the re-connections I’ve made with my childhood.

My dad was born in South Kensington in 1929, the third of 6 kids. His Dad was a shop keeper and his mum obviously had her hands full with the brood! Although the third born he was the eldest son and always had a sense of responsibility that came with that honour. My first ever memory is of my dad.

I  found myself somewhat overwhelmed with all that I learnt over that first week, the gaps that were filled and the man behind the father that I discovered. Over those 7 days I  came to realise that there was lots I didn’t know, and in fact, we shared a lot in common.

The day after he died Jasper and I had had some dad and son time, we built his new Lego set, Emperor Palpatine’s Shuttle, which to be honest was a bit of light relief. Going through the instructions together, finding the pieces, re-doing it from the beginning because we made a vital mistake, for a few hours we were lost in the Lego and all was good.

I’ve been thinking alot since that week about the number of times I did stuff with my dad and the memories those carry. I want Jasper and Harvey to have loads of dad and son memories so here’s to many more hours searching for 2×4 bricks.