Our mission

Many moons ago, back when there were only 3 (maybe 4?) little King kids, I decided that we needed a family mission statement. I don't remember what gave me this idea. It may have been a book I was reading, it may have been wisdom from one of the women at the great Bible study I attended, it may have been the prompting of the Holy Spirit, or more likely, all of the above. I'm sure the Good Doctor once again thought I was nuts or over the edge or both. But he's a good man and he (sometimes) humors me and my ideas.

So we sat down with the kids, none of whom was older than six, I'm sure. We placed a large sheet of newsprint (can you even get this stuff on those large rolls anymore?) on the floor in front of us and we took turns contributing ideas to describe who we are as a family. The brainstorming resulted in a list of phrases that described us as who we were and who we wanted to be. I don't remember many of the specifics of that occasion other than our amazement when Andrew wrote on the paper, "Mom and Dad go on dates." How wise and forward-thinking he was at such a young age.

I do have a copy of what we came up with and I recently uncovered it stashed away in a cupboard. I think it ended up there when I cleaned the mantel off for Christmas decorations one year and for some reason never made it's way back. But it's back where it belongs. It may be time to add to it, make it more "mature", or even change it completely, but it's a good reminder to be purposeful in living out our story.

The King Family Mission (ca. 2001)

Teach and learn about God
Help and encourage each other
Enjoy activities together

Kindness to everyone
Imitate Christ
Never fight, hurt, or lie
Go where God leads

Family worship and prayer
Always serve God and others
Mom and Dad go on dates
Immediately obey
Loving words and actions
Young and old are respected

Wow! I look at phrases like, "Go where God leads," and am amazed that it was just a few years later when God led us away from our family, our home, and our school. When we wrote that, we had no idea what that commitment would mean. But God blesses faithfulness and trust. I'm also struck by how much of it is still true today. I believe we added "Young and old are respected," as a reference to the fact that John used to take the kids with him when he visited the elderly or sick. Now we do this by playing at retirement centers often throughout the year.

So what is your family's mission? What role are you playing in His story? Write it down and watch where it takes you.

I dare you.

Prepare for your prayers

I sat down to write in my journal this morning (notice a writing theme here, I've got a journal, memory books for each of the kids, a writer's notebook, a reader's notebook, and a blog, my kids are going to have a lot to go through when I'm gone!) and a line at the top of the page popped out at me. It was from yesterday morning and I had written, "God, use me in any way you want to bring glory to you. Amen." I didn't remember writing it at first but as I thought about it, I remembered writing it after reading another chapter in Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman (excellent book, by the way, and I highly recommend it). I also remembered writing it with some hesitation, knowing that when we pray these prayers, we will often be surprised in the way in which God answers.

I was. I obviously did not have a car accident and a (likely) totaled van in mind when I prayed that prayer. I can't even begin to fathom how the prayer and the events of last evening are connected, but I have total confidence that it was no surprise to God.

In the grand scheme of things, this is a small blip in God's timeline. I get such a short span of time to play my role; to live my part of the story. I refuse to let Satan have the upper hand. So we're fighting a battle today but the good news is, I already know who wins.

I also noticed that underneath that prayer I had written, "The prayer of a follower, not a fan. It's scary to pray that prayer, but I'm so ready."

So, ready or not, here we come!

My Hero, part 4

For better or for worse, our eldest child is most like his mother. This is probably more to my advantage as we understand each other. So it was no surprise that we both had the same idea when a certain man sat in front of us at ArtsFest this morning. How is a person supposed to get a good picture in this situation? Well, as momma always said, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." At least I think that applies here. For what it's worth, here is our portrait study of,
"Her Husband, His Father, Our Hero."




Sure is a nice head of hair on that 40-something, though, isn't it?

Tornadoes and other such weather

Prior to last night, I had never been under a tornado warning. In fact, I've never really thought about what to do in case of a tornado. My dear husband, born and bred in tornado country has thankfully filled me in over the years. If at school you should be sitting in the school's hallway with a book over your head or in your classroom under a desk. At home you head to the basement or to a shower. But when I heard that there was a tornado warning, I still had to google "tornado watch and warning difference" to know if it was time to head downstairs or time to listen to the radio for something worse. Silly me. That was the last thing I did before the electricity went out. Then we scrambled to find all the King family flashlights which mysteriously disappear every year between church camps and camping trips. Apparently you're supposed to have these things on hand and already waiting for you in an emergency pack in the basement. You're also supposed to have a battery-operated radio so you know what's going on in the real world. Obviously we didn't have one of those either. Or, we probably do but at some point it was probably carried off by some child interested in studying dinosaur technology of the past. But I am proud to say I have learned a lot about what a person can and cannot do when power has been lost for 24 hours and counting, due to the high winds of a severe storm. But first, let me say how thankful we are to have a house and each other and for the safety God afforded during the night.

Okay, here goes:

I learned that you can google "tornado watch and warning difference" before the power goes out but once it does go out you can't google "what to do during a tornado warning."

(Gratefully this was the most damage to our property)

I learned that during a power outage you can't find any of the household flashlights. You can find lots of old candles with broken or sunken wicks that won't light.

You can't check the weather reports but you can have someone who is out driving in the mess call you with frequent updates.

I learned that you can't sleep in a hotel (HopeAnne's desperate suggestion) but you can listen to worship music and pray so that you can sleep in peace in your own bed.

You can defrost and clean out your fridge and freezer but you can't just open the door of said appliance to find something to eat.

I learned that you can't cook supper, nor can you heat up your take-out pizza in the microwave. You can, however, be thankful that you don't live in the dark ages (pun intended) so that take-out pizza is an option (even lukewarm).

I learned that you can't use your laptop or cell phone unless they have been properly charged ahead of time but you can (hopefully) go to your husband's place of work to catch up on life and charge your phone and laptop.

I learned that my husband is pretty smart under pressure. It was his idea to pack up all the refrigerated and frozen foods at 3:00 in the morning and to drive them to an undisclosed location (hey, we don't want you eating all the food from our deep freeze!) until further notice. On the other hand, I learned that even I cannot possibly finish all the ice cream in the house before it melts to slush so it's better to feed it to the dog than to dump it down the drain.

(We've been watching this nest of baby birds for several weeks now. Unfortunately we think the storm blew the babies right out of the nest. This was the only one left this morning. It is still unable to fly but we've seen the mother return to feed it and later in the day it was hopping around the yard behind it's mother. Every now and then she'd fly a little and the baby would attempt to follow.)

You can listen to "When will the lights come back on?" all day but you can't give a definitive answer.

My son taught me that you can do homework if you cradle your flashlight like a cell phone and let it shine down on your schoolwork. However, you can't use google to look up any questions that you might have.

My other son learned that you can't use Microsoft Word to type up the outline that is due the next day but you can pull out paper and pencil and do it the old-fashioned way.

Hope learned that if you flip every light switch in the house, you will constantly be saying, "Hey, this one doesn't work, either." The rest of us have learned that no matter how many times you habitually turn on a light switch, nothing will happen if you are under a power outage.

The children also learned that you can practice your violin, viola, or cello but you can't practice the bass guitar or electric piano. Singing is okay.

I learned that in the face of life without power, one child becomes clingy, another crabby, one more helpful, one talks incessantly, another becomes obsessed with the absence of a usable hair dryer, and the other two tell corny jokes. On the other hand, it can't stop us from having moments of bonding.


(What we found when Isaac went to soccer)

You can go outside once the rain stops, but you can't open the garage door to get your bikes out (until Dad comes home and uses his super strong muscles to open it for you).

You can also catch up with your neighbors who have also migrated outside. You can even catch and return the neighbor's run-away African tortoise. You can't keep said tortoise even though he is very friendly and just likes company.

I learned that when the power is out you will save on your electric bill but even a family of nine will have to add an eating out column to the family budget (I think the kids are enjoying this way too much).

I learned that you can't write a blog but you can think up a bunch of ideas and then go to your husband's workplace to type them up.

(The source of all our trouble. We're told by neighbors that it was a confirmed tornado)

And most importantly, I learned that you can ask Jesus in your heart in the midst of the storm. Just ask HopeAnne who announced this morning that she did just that so she wouldn't be scared. You can't take that away.

Welcome home

I don't go away very often. There are reasons for that but I am here to assure you that it has nothing to do with the huge welcome party my family plans for my arrival back home. They go out of their way to make sure I know I was missed and that I am now more appreciated than ever. Here are just a few of the special surprises they had planned for my arrival after being away only two days:

A sink full of dishes (I am certain they made some type of culinary delight that required the use of so many dishes in the preparation of said cuisine. I think they forgot to serve it, though.)

Papers and crafts all over the living room (They were working on a "Welcome Home" banner, I'm sure of it.)

Scraps of paper and various dirt on the floor (Presumably a trail so I could find them amidst the household chaos.)

Towels to be hung up (Ater late-day baths so they'd be squeaky clean for my arrival, right?)

Toys in the wrong place in every room of the house (Maybe they were sorting out toys for the Salvation Army?)

Important school information and papers to sign (To show that they believe my signature is better than their father's, they waited until I came home to unload everything.)

More excuses than usual to delay bedtime (Because they missed me so much and just wanted to hear my voice "suggesting" that it was way past time to put the BopIt away, turn out the lights, and GO TO SLEEP!)

A dog peeing in the house (He obviously caught onto the excitement that Mom was home and we're celebrating.)

An overflowing toilet that left standing water all over the bathroom floor (To remind me of the beach that I just left. How thoughtful.)

A conveniently absent husband (Who wanted me to be able to experience all the joys of a home-coming in solitude and rest.)

Home Sweet Home.

My hero, part 3

Well, I'm on a roll. Maybe it's some sort of mid-life crisis that has me turning all sentimental and romantic and sappy. Whatever the reason, I just had to let you know what a wonderful father my husband is to our children.

As each one came into the world, he was right there beside me. Riveted to the TV, to whatever sporting event happened to be in season as that precious little bundle of joy came into this world.

He was there for all the night-time feedings for which he could be of use. That is, he would have been if it were possible to wake the sleeping giant in the middle of the night. And if it had been physically possible for him to feed one of our bottle-boycotting children.

Most importantly, he's a very involved parent. Want to throw a football? He's there. Want to get beat in Chess or Scrabble? He's right on it. Needing a bedtime story? Great! (Just don't pick a long one) Want to ride bikes in the road in front of the house? No problem. He'd love to supervise.



Sorry, but when this opportunity presented itself, it was too good to pass up. I quietly called Eden and Hope in for a bath (after snapping the picture, of course). I told them that we were going to play a trick on Daddy so they should quickly and quietly clean up their outside toys and come in the house. Then, while they were getting ready, I had Mariana call John on the cell phone to tell him that Mom wanted the girls inside for a bath. From the living room windows, we watched him jump at the first ring, agree to Mariana's request, and then call, "Girls?" No answer. Hmmmm.

Please forgive me. I'm not a total tyrant. I did thank him later for being such a good sport.

3 teens in the house

Three years ago we were awaiting the arrival of a new baby. I had been awakened around midnight by the cries of a child with a nightmare. As I reached up to comfort him, my water broke and the journey began.

We thought we were pros by this point; prepared for anything. We already had Baby #1 who was born wide-eyed and ready to tackle the SATs. 19 months later we welcomed Baby #2 who was born with a look that told you he always had something up his sleeve and who knew how to entertain. And now, 19 months after that, we were just waiting to find out if we could only produce boys or if there just might be a girl in there. I felt the same during those 9 months as I had for the first two pregnancies, causing most people to say it must be a boy. We couldn't decide on a boy's name and actually spent our laboring time in the hospital writing names on papers, having John hold them behind his back, and having me say "right" or "left" to narrow it down. Not being able to pick out a name usually means the parents will have a baby of that gender. And if you believe in the fetal heartrate method of gender-guessing, this baby was most-likely a boy.

As we all know (since she's always front and center), Baby #3 was definitely a girl; wide-mouthed and announcing her presence to the whole ward. I am certain that's where she first started to practice projecting to an audience. It's also where we decided that this every 19 months deal would have to come to an end. We had finally figured out how that was happening. But it's all good. Look where that early experience has gotten her.

Even her name was correctly chosen for her personality. My aunt says I should have known better, being a former teacher and all. But she hadn't met Mariana yet when she said that. No, a plain Jane name just wouldn't have worked for this child. Have you ever met a Drama Queen whose name was Mary or Ann or Sarah or Sue? (Disclaimer: To all the Marys and Sues, etc., please do not write to express your offense at my suggestion that your names aren't good names. They are. My only point here is that they would not have worked for Mariana. She needed a difficult and different name.

For someone whose name is mispronounced 9 times out of 10, Mariana has no qualms correcting people. She still has close relatives who insist on calling her "Mar (as in car)-eeeee-an (as in can) -nah" instead of "Mary (as in Mary)-ahhh (as in what you say when the doctor sticks a log down your throat)-nah" A friend in dance has shortened her name to Mar (rhymes with far) and one young friend had such trouble that the best she could do was Winnie Wanna (funny thing is, it stuck, and you can still hear the older boys calling for Winnie Wanna on occasion). Forgive us. It was our attempt to use the name of two former students of mine (Ana - pronounced Ahhh-nah), while also honoring her grandmothers: Mary Ann King and Christine Bauman. All that to introduce our unpronounceable name choice: Mariana Christine King. But don't get all nervous about what you should call her. She will let you know. From across the room if she must.

The spelling of her name has been just as painful. From MaryAnna to Marianna to Mary Ana to anything starting with an "M", she's had to be on top of this one from day one. At age three we were at a children's museum when another mother, trying to make a friend for her daughter, asked Mariana her name. Mariana emphatically replied, "It's Mariana. That's with 1 "n" and 3 "a's." Alright-y then. I think the other mother walked away, determing that my daughter was much too bold for her daughter.

So Mariana, let me just say that I am extremely proud of you. You have not hidden your talents nor have you pushed them aside until you're an adult. You use them now, every day, in many ways. How many parents can say that their 13-year old daughter has a longer resume than her mother? And how many mothers have a 13-year old daughter who brings home a bigger paycheck than Mom? Well, let's be totally honest. You've been bringing home paychecks bigger than mine since you were about 8 years old. And your resume surpassed mine in length when you were 10. But I'm okay with that. Really I am.

It all started in Aunt Shirley's basement when you wrote, directed, produced, and starred in The Mariana Show with your cousins, most of whom were older than you.


Then on to Molly in Annie in community theatre.

After that it was the start of several seasons at Allenberry,


a run with Sight and Sound Theatre,


and two Christmases with Hershey Park.


No matter where it is, I love to see you on stage.

But more than that, I am proud of your character. Since in all honesty we've been calling you a teen-ager for oh, about the past 3 years, let me just say that you put me to shame. Your faith, your commitment to Christ, your maturity, and your ability to understand deep and serious subjects, is well beyond your years. You are a role model to many. You are a light to everyone around you and I am proud of you. Keep it up.

2 Corinthians 2:14-16 But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life. And who is equal to such a task?

My hero, continued

Well, I decided that since I broke out of the mold to sing my husband's praises yesterday, I might as well just continue to go with it.

This week a package came in the mail. In the past this would have been an exciting experience, with all of us wondering what might be in the box and who it might be for. But since so many packages these days just contain yet another doctoral-class textbook, none us were holding our breath. So imagine my surprise when I opened it to find that the box contained a special gift for me!

Now I need to say that while my husband is much more romantic than I am, gift-giving is not his love language. So this was indeed a nice surprise. It's not every day that a wife finds one of these in her hands. It is obvious that my husband put a lot of thought into this gift to make sure that he got me just the right thing. It is the right size and color and is a perfect fit. Just what I wanted. I couldn't love him more.

Because now that he has replaced the broken crock pot lid, my life is a whole is a lot easier.

A little background might be helpful, especially for those who were not there last Sunday when the original crock pot lid met it's early demise.

John and the little girls were planning to attend a birthday party while the rest of us went to a Tim Hawkins performance (I want to be just like Tim Hawkins when I grow up). Just to be nice, I volunteered to make the baked beans that would be his contribution to the cook-out. To keep them warm and for easier travel we placed them in the crock pot. In what was to become a fatal error, he chose to take the pot out of the heating element for travel. Upon arrival, he slipped, the lid fell into the pot of beans, and shattered into many tiny fragments. As seasoned parents, we would be okay with a fly or two in the beans, even a little dirt, but glass is an obvious deal-breaker. The party had to go on, with or without baked beans.

And just to show that he is sincerely sorry, he made certain to buy me a new lid. Just the right size and color. A perfect fit.

My hero

I am about to do something that I don't do very often. But it's a momentous day and my life has just been saved so I must give credit where credit is due, no matter how much it pains me. That is why I sit down to write this just moments after my heart has returned to its God-given place in my chest (where it definitely fits much better than in my throat). If I do not write this now, I will lose my nerve and once again pass up the opportunity to do the right thing.

My husband is my hero.

You can tell me that I need to say it more often, but I chaf at being told what to do. You can tell me that I need to go to a marriage retreat, but I know that I have plans that day. In fact, I'm fairly certain that if you look at my calendar, it definitely says "wash the cat" on that day.

Don't worry. He's well-aware that I am verbally-challenged and no longer expects much. He also knows that I'm challenged in many other areas as well. He loves me anyway. I guess it's because we have such a clean cat. Or we would, if we happened to own a cat.

But for today, he is definitely my hero. Just as my family was being held hostage by an intruder. Just as my brave-but-not-so-brave 10-year olds alternated between running for safety and standing at my side holding hammers. Just as I was about to breathe my last,

My phone rang. And it was my hero. And just as he's been made to do, upon hearing that his wife was about to be ambushed by a huge predator of wives, he offered to come home from work to save me. Not only did he offer, but he drove all the way home from a conference to rescue his wife from a danger so intense she would have been standing on a table if there had been one in the laundry room where she was held hostage.

Now, all you feminists, let me just say that I did my best to rid our house of this menace on my own. I talked sweetly to him. I showed him the bottom of my shoe. I even opened the door and suggested nicely that he'd be better off out in the rain than in my laundry room. But he didn't listen to me. In fact, he had the gall to turn around and run back toward the middle of the room, putting us all in grave danger.

So, my wonderful, brave, and loving husband did the right thing. He came in the house, grabbed the first tissue he could find (Puffs, of course) and caught that spider in one fell swoop. Knowing that that attack would not be good enough, he squished and squashed til there was nothing left of that tormenting, trouble-making, thorn-in-my side spider.


Then he asked for his reward. I told him he could have the $5 reward I had offered to the child who would dare to save me from that terrorizing creature. I guess that's not the kind of reward he was looking for because he refused to accept it.

The two 10-year old boys are still trying to convince me that they deserve to split the reward since they were ready and willing to rid the house of that invador of our privacy. Silly wimps with hammers. You might look good with those hammers on your shoulders but you did nothing to save me. Wait til I tell your future wife!

But it was a big spider!

Raising anti-litigation kids

My 6-year old has apparently caught onto our litigious-happy culture. She volunteered to clean the kitchen floor today (what 6-year old doesn't like any excuse to play in water?) and the job came complete with warning signs.

And for those who can't read, maybe a little illustration of what might happen if you're not careful:

And just in case you find yourself looking at the floor while walking, a duplicate of this sign was taped to the wet floor itself.

Automatic Email Reply

I'm sorry but I will be out of the office and unable to update my blog until further notice.

I thought a mental health day would take care of it but instead I've checked myself into The Funny Farm for an extended time period of time.

It all started when when our cook didn't show up for work. That wouldn't have been so bad except that on the same day, the maid didn't show up. That'd be doable but my babysitter was also absent. Then my secretary was a no-show and the same for my personal assistant. The only one who did show up was the chauffeur.

In the meantime, please feel free to explore other blogs. There's some really good stuff out there.

Jesse's tribute

Jesse's homeroom teacher informed the class yesterday that they'd be viewing the royal wedding during homeroom today. They were instructed to wear tiaras or other royal wear for the occasion. Jesse did pack a tiara for school (don't tell Eden that her tiara is in his backpack) but also decided to take it a step further. Of course he did, this is Jesse we're talking about.

Quote of the day

So it's not wordless, but it's my quote of the day . . .

"They do so interrupt me that night or day I can hardly snatch a moment to be refreshed by {my} readings."

King Henry VI, after being released from imprisonment in the Tower of London to be restored as King. Yes, King Henry, I can relate! So many readings, so little time, and so many interruptions!

By Eden

You gotta love a child who spends her free time writing stories. I wonder who she takes after?




You also gotta love a child who makes books to help her sister learn her numbers, but who writes her numbers incorrectly.
Like I said, I wonder who she takes after?

Easter revisited

On my way home from church yesterday I passed 2 different people outside doing yardwork. I thought how sad it was that to them, Easter Sunday is no different from any other day, except that maybe it's a day off and a chance to get things done. How sad to live life without the hope of resurrection.

We have friends who no longer celebrate Christmas (as in no cards, no gifts, no decorations, nothing). Their belief is that we have so much more to celebrate at Easter, so we need to downplay Christmas. From the commercialization standpoint, I understand where they are coming from, but I'm not ready to stop celebrating Christmas. Instead, it makes more sense to me to take our Easter celebrations up a notch.

We have spent the past several weeks preparing for Easter, admittedly probably not as much as we should have. This was a good story to ponder: http://www.crossroad.to/Victory/stories/TheSon.html And this a thought-provoking video: http://www.ignitermedia.com/mini-movies/1923/Follow But one of our favorite recent traditions, Communion in our home, with friends around the table, got pushed out due to poor planning. Next year that has to be the first thing on our calendar when we look ahead to Easter month. This was a good story to ponder: http://www.crossroad.to/Victory/stories/TheSon.html And this a thought-provoking video: http://www.ignitermedia.com/mini-movies/1923/Follow

The one tradition I miss is sunrise service. I remember when it was outside and was truly a sunrise service. There's just something about celebrating Easter first thing in the morning, while the sun is coming up.

I also miss my first graders reciting the Easter story from Matthew, and sometimes acting it out to help us remember better.

But we do have a few traditions of our own.
At our house, we do have Easter baskets. (See March 9, 2011) Some years we fill them, and others we don't. Some years it's one big gift for everyone, like the year we promised a trip to Sight and Sound Theatre. Sometimes it's a scavenger hunt, one year it was yarn crisscrossed throughout the entire house to find the Easter basket at the end. This year it was plastic eggs filled with notes about where to find the gifts, most of which were family gifts.

Like this fad which the kids have been asking us to participate in.

Or this video chair for the basement.

Or a snack drawer stocked with snacks I usually don't buy.

A few years ago, when our church had a newsletter for small groups, I read about a small group that always meets for breakfast on Easter morning. What a good idea. Not exactly a sunrise service (at least I don't think they sing "Up From the Grave He Arose" in four-part harmony) but a fun way to welcome in the day. And now we do this with our small group. It's us and the police officers and the same waitress, Jen, who start Easter morning at Cracker Barrel.

And this year, imagine our surprise to come home and find buckets filled with goodies for the kids.

Then on to Souderton for Easter dinner

and an egg hunt.

Today we washed up the Jell-O egg molds, bagged up the Easter baskets for attic storage, returned the "Resurrection Eggs" to their correct places, and ate Ham Chowder for dinner.


Let us not forget in this coming year, the hope that Easter brings. He is risen! He is risen indeed!

And the winner is . . .

My current favorite in the category of:

Please-Sign-On-The-Dotted-Line-So-The-Teacher-And-The-School-Don't-Get-Sued is . . .



Maybe we should have signed one of these a few years ago when Jesse was using the potato slicer at home and took out a hunk of his thumb. Oh well, he survived. And no one sued us. And he learned how NOT to slice potatoes with the potato slicer. Sometimes that's how we learn best.

Count your blessings

Back in November, as our family was considering a significant change, we heard a speaker by the name of Eileen Mestas talk about God's amazing goodness in the life of their family (http://jobsdaughters.blogspot.com/). I was so struck by her faith and reliance on God. In her obedience and trust, God has provided for their every need. I found myself in tears throughout most of her story, and hungered for stories just like hers, those moments when God clearly steps in to provide.

Well, in part due to her testimony, our family did step out in faith. And since that time, I have been brought to my knees in tears as I watch God provide for us in much the same way. I know that we are not supposed to talk about finances, but I have been so blessed by the stories of others when God steps in to fill physical needs, and we have been so blessed by God, we can't keep silent.

After a very large van repair bill (a very large van often needs very large repairs, but this was over the top), I found myself in a place of laying that bill down and asking God to take care of it. We weren't in dire straits, but it was definitely an unexpected expense. Amazingly, within a short amount of time, we were able to see the blessings pour in; and God's hand behind all of it.

We performed a concert where we did not charge but a gift from those in attendance equalled more than three times the amount we would normally have charged. Soon after, John received two gifts from people, expressing their thankfulness for his influence in their lives. Then one of our music instructors surprised us with the announcement that because she appreciates what our family stands for, she is not going to charge us for all of the children who take lessons from her. Yesterday, once again, we were humbled by the generosity of others. We played a concert that again was given free-of-charge. The event sponsors surprised us with a gift card large enough to feed our entire family (that's saying a lot!) at one of our favorite restaurants. At the end of the meal, the manager came over to John and was clearly confused as she tried to explain to him that a portion of our meal had been paid by someone in the restaurant. I have replayed this over and over in my mind, realizing that this surprise gift not only blessed us, but spoke volumes to the restaurant manager and to the waiter who had served us that evening.

Donald Miller, in his book, The Hole in our Gospel, says, "The most often repeated commandment in the Bible is, 'Do not fear'…That means a couple of things, if you think about it. It means we are going to be afraid, and it means we shouldn’t let fear boss us around.

We are learning that when we act in faith, and take a risk, God is still good. We don't need to be afraid. He will reveal Himself to us in miraculous ways. It will knock your socks off. It is for us.

God is good.
All the time.
All the time.
God is good.

Back by popular demand

I never thought I'd see those words in print, in reference to me. The King's Strings, maybe, which by defaul includes me. But ME? And believe it or not, it's all because of the presentation I did in February. Now I'm back on the speaker circuit for April. Go figure.

So, there you have it. Back by popular demand. That's exactly what the advertisement said. Really. Word-for-word.

Cindy King

Speaking on the topic of God's Great Story and how we are all called to play our role - individually, and as a family. And a few thoughts thrown in on how to help our chilren find their role in Gods Story.

If my high school English teacher could see me now. She'd want to know who I am and what I've done with Cindy Bauman.

I think it's all because of a friend who prayed with me one day in November and at that time gave me some words from God. She said that I was to "Do the unexpected" and "Be the unexpected." All of a sudden I start getting asked to speak at retreats and workshops.

I don't think I should have her pray for me anymore.

Or next you'll see me singing on stage.

Ode to a lost job

I few weeks ago I was told that I didn't take the trash out properly.

No problem, I said. I wasn't really all that into the job in the first place.

Wonderful! was the reply. We'll take over. We can do it better than you, anyway.

Great! That's a load off my shoulders. Think of what I can do with all my extra time now.


I think Linus is all over the new arrangement, though, wouldn't you agree?

April the First

The first day of April is one of my favorite days. Well, if I were totally honest, I'd admit that I don't need a day on the calendar to give me permission to play a good prank of two, but it is nice to have someone say it's almost mandatory to trick someone today.

Of course I do also have to put up with the little ones attempting to tell me that my hair is purple (April Fool's) or that my shoes are on the wrong feet (April Fool's) but it's all because they're learning and at least they are making an attempt. They could, like some people, grow up to be ignorant in the way of fooling others. Some people have just not been reared in the fine art of prankstering. I know. I married one. Don't feel bad for him, though. He has all kinds of other talents like getting good grades, earning degrees, and teaching teen-agers how to drive. We compensate for his lack of skill in the area of trickery by keeping him in the dark about our plans. It also means that he's also pretty easy to fool.

Like that time I called and left a message for him, pretending to be a receptionist from a certain doctor's office he really wanted to visit. He was so fooled by my accent that he called me and had me listen to the message to see if I could help him figure out who it was.

Or the time I showed him a positive pregnancy test that I borrowed from an expecting friend - and told my unsuspecting husband that we were expecting Number 6, when Number 5 was not even a year old. He was ready to call that doctor's office from the previous prank as soon as that conversation was over!

So I realize that since his children have received genes from both of us, I have my work cut out for me. It means that I have to start my April Fool's planning on April 2 so that I'm ready for the next year.

Shoun came down to breakfast this morning and between chuckles told us that when he unrolled the toilet paper, he found a note saying, "Help! I'm locked in a toilet paper factory and I can't get out! Save me!" When I asked him if he had saved the poor guy he came right back with, "Well, I didn't know where the toilet paper factory was." Good guy. Fast learner. The best part was that he assumed Mariana was the culprit so when she came down in the morning (keep in mind that she's not a morning person), and we were all laughing at her good joke, she just stared at us with a sour look on her face.

God helped me out with the next trick. As each child came to the realization that it had snowed last night, I shouted, "April Fool's! It was really me. I just went outside last night with a bunch of powdered sugar and sprinkled it all around so you'd think it was snow. Good one, huh?" Eden thought about this for a while before asking if that stuff I sprinkled outside would be okay to eat. I assured her it would be fine. "Good," she said, "Because someone might think it's snow and start to eat it."

Catching on quickly Shoun then rubber banded the sink sprayer handle so when Mariana turned on the sink, she got a shower. (Unfortunately poor Rachel got this one first. King family members need to put up with pranks, students living here for the year should not have to do so. Sorry, Rachel. Thankfully, she was a good sport about it.)

This must be why Mariana put green food coloring in the milk. Now every time I open the fridge I think someone's celebrating St. Patty's Day. And Eden had to gag down her milk because she insisted it didn't taste right. Sorry, honey. We don't waste food around here. Green or not, you're drinking it. If it's not curdled, it's going down.

Then Jesse squeezed the toothpaste onto his brush only to find that a raisin came out with the paste. He flicked the raisin in the sink which made Mariana wonder why there was a raisin in the sink (and left me wondering why a raisin didn't come out when she squeezed her toothpaste). HopeAnne just nonchalantly told me she needed new toothpaste because there was a raisin in hers. As if finding raisins in her toothpaste is a common, ordinary occurrence. You know you're a King when finding a raisin in your toothpaste is really no big deal.

And that was all before the school day started.

Poor Eden thought she was being tricked. While on a field trip she had to use the restroom. From the stall next to her, Mariana hear Eden reading out loud, "Please do not flush..." Since Eden couldn't read the word "sanitary" she decided to stop there. At this point Mariana heard Eden's frantic monologue, "Oh know, I can't flush in here. What should I do? I can't flush. Maybe I should try another one." Just as she was about to walk out the door to try another stall, Mariana stopped her, explaining that they would all say the same thing but that it would be okay for her to flush. All's well that end's well.

Supper's the next plan. I'm going with a tried-and-true meal from our very first April Fool's Day. I remember it like it was yesterday. Andrew was 4, Jesse 2, and Mariana 1. I told the kids we were having a treat for supper - cupcakes! They were thrilled. Then I placed the "cupcakes", which were really meatloaf with pink and blue mashed potato "icing" on the table. They thought I was the best mom in the world. Then, you could see the wheels turning in Andrew's head. He got a weird look on his face, took his finger through the "icing" and tasted it. His expression was priceless.

And then he cried. And yelled, "It's mashed potatoes!" And then he cried louder.

But he got over it. And this year he's glad to know that instead of being on the receiving end of our April Fool's supper, he just needs to help me pull it off.

Jesse summed it up with this statement (while I was in the midst of a fit of giggles), "Mom, I don't think you've had this much fun in one day before."

And to hear Shoun say, after the meal was over, "Mum (I love how he says that), thank you for supper." Priceless.

In case you were wondering...

My son took me on our mandatory date this morning. He's such a good boy. He suggested that we go to my all-time favorite restaurant, Shady Maple Smorgasbord. He even turned down two other activity offers to make it happen. And he dressed up for the occasion.

We had a very enjoyable time. The food, of course, was excellent. And we had very pleasant conversation. It was one great morning.

Until he offered to drive home.

I’ve decided that childbirth is nothing. In fact, I’d go through that 5 times before getting in the passenger seat with my just-learning child. Come to think of it, I did go through that 5 times before getting in the passenger seat with my just-learning child. And I’m still not ready for this. We’d better have another baby.

I’ve also decided that breathing exercises in childbirth classes have absolutely nothing to do with childbirth. Your body takes over on that one and you have no control over what happens. Whether or not you’ve practiced the how-tos of breathing, you are going to continue breathing. Letting your child drive is a totally different matter. Those breathing techniques that went by the wayside as soon as the first contraction hit do come in handy when your firstborn is behind the wheel. No need to offer refresher courses for the second or third or… pregnancy. I want a refresher the month before any given child turns 16!

I do believe I’ve aged at least 10 years in the one hour it took to drive from Lancaster to home. If not, my body has definitely gone from a fairly healthy state to one of unhealth.

My tongue is raw and bleeding from being bitten through in an attempt to keep myself from talking too much. Or screaming.

My jaw is in a constant state of clench from each time he merged or passed someone on the highway.

My mouth babbles, “White lines, white lines, white lines...” I sound like Rainman as a driving instructor.

I’ve been left with a jerk in my neck and a chronic crick from using my head to will the car away from the right side of the road.

My hands are cold, clammy, and wet from nerves.

My blood pressure, which used to be so low it kept me somewhere just over death, has now permanently risen above the needs-meds line.

My heart rate, like the one represented on the “After you die, You will meet God,” billboard that we passed, goes in fast lines up-and-down the monitor.

And my thigh has a lingering cramp from being raised at a right angle and pressing into the dashboard in an unsuccessful attempt at keeping Andrew below the speed limit.

But overall I think I did well. I got us home safely. I kept passing to a minimum. I was okay with following slow-moving trucks. And I thoroughly enjoyed driving under the speed limit.

There should be a special card that mothers-of-16-year-olds could keep in their wallets showing that they are a part of the Can-Do-Anything Club. There should be special privileges for us and we should be excused from any unusual behaviors that begin just after our children start driving.

I think I need a nap.

Questions

Our viola teacher was here yesterday. She glanced outside at our washline and asked the inevitable question:

Did you just return from a vacation to Hawaii or Alaska?

Neither. Saturday's warm weather inspired me to declare it the "First Day of 2011 to Hang Wash Outside". I was also inspired to wash multiple loads of laundry, including winter coats that I was hoping we'd no longer need (this winter) and a load of bathing suits from frequent hot tub usage as of late. Which begged the next question.

If that was on Saturday, why is it still on the line on Monday?

That'd be because it wasn't dry by Saturday evening so I decided to leave it there through Sunday to dry thoroughly but then I forgot to bring it in on Sunday and when I woke up on Monday I heard rain and decided that rather than bring it in and use the dryers which I was trying to avoid in the first place, I would just leave it outside for another two days. (Insert breath here)

Which does make me wonder if someone is going to ask:

Do you think you forgot to bring it in on Sunday because deep down you knew that you weren't supposed to do work on Sunday and that even though you avoided doing laundry on Sunday it would have been against the Ten Commandments to even take the laundry off the line on Sunday therefore you unconsciously blocked this "work" from your mind? (Take another breath)

Maybe. I guess we'll never know.

But in case you are asking the next question:

Is the laundry off the line yet?

The answer is yes.

My neighbors can stop laughing at me now.

Teens!

It has always been our arrangement that I would parent the children until about middle school age, and then John would take over. He was, of course, the youth pastor who loved his job. I, on the other hand, was the youth pastor's wife who wanted to strangle the kids. I didn't know how I was ever going to get through the teen years with my own children. I figured it was better to let John take over at that point.

However, something happened through the years. I love my teens (and almost teen). I can honestly say that I am enjoying this age as much as all of the others. Recently I've been pondering how this happened. Just yesterday I read a quote that seems to answer my own question, at least at one level.

The quote, by William Kilpatrick (author of Why Johnny Can't Tell Right from Wrong), was this: "Of course we still love our children when they are nasty, whiny, disobedient, disrespectful, and selfish. But if that becomes their habitual behavior the love of even the best parents begins to wear thin. By contrast, children who are obedient, respectful, and considerate have our love not only because it is our duty to love them, but because it is a delight."

Thank you, my dearly loved teen-agers, for being obedient, respectful, and considerate. Additionally, thank you for being compassionate, encouraging, and wise. You are a delight!

Boys. I mean, men.

To my sons reading this post, I am not in any way saying that I am ready for you to date or that you are ready to date. I am, however, saying that when that day comes (10 or more years down the road sounds like a good time-frame), you will make a great catch for some lovely young woman.

Fact: My sons have had to live with me.

Fact: My sons have had to live with three sisters.

What more proof do you need? They know how to relate to (deal with?) the opposite sex.

Take this recent conversation as Exhibit A in my arsenol of evidence:

Andrew: I like that jacket.

Mariana: You're just now noticing it?

Andrew: Yes, and I like it.

Mariana: Mom, can you believe it? I've had this jacket for over a month and he's just now noticing it. I wear it all the time and he never noticed it before????

Andrew: Uh-oh. I can see where this is going. It's a good thing you're my sister and not my wife, otherwise I'd hear (imagine the following in perfect feminine pitch, inflection and emotion) You are just now noticing my jacket? I bought it over a month ago, just for you. I've worn it all the time, just for you. I even wore it the past three days, just for you and YOU NEVER NOTICED IT! (crying now) I can't believe that I bought this nice jacket and it has taken you a whole month to notice it. What is wrong with you? Why can't you notice things like this?

Mariana: Wow. He's good.

Mom: Yes, he will make a great husband someday. I hope he thanks us.

And all you of the female persuasion who are about the same age as my sons, come back in about 10 years. By then they should not only know how to mimic you, but also to live with you.

Wordless Wednesday 12

Forever a student

As I've processed the wonderful feedback, both face-to-face and written, following the rites of passage blog, I have been surprised and humbled. My husband just says, "I told you so," since he's been asking me to write that into a blog for a while now. But he was born and groomed with a lot more self-confidence than me.

The same thing has been happening after King's Strings concerts, as we and our children share our stories and about how we are finding our place in God's story. One young grandmother, with tears in her eyes, shared how she wished she had parented purposefully. A great-grandmother, also with tears in her eyes, approached me to say that she also had seven children, but "I didn't parent them like you do yours." So for the many people who have asked for more information about "how we decide how to parent", here goes.

It is common practice in our academically-minded society to think that we can learn anything by reading a book. I've found that for myself, there are several problems with this method when it comes to parenting education. The first is trying to decide what books to read. The over-abundance of parenting materials makes it more difficult, not easier, to find good parenting advice. The second problem is that we have no way of finding out if the author's ideas and parenting methods worked out for him/her. I'd love to have some type of follow-up website where we can watch their children for several years to find out if they have grown into mature, responsible adults that I'd like my kids to emulate. Worse yet, some of these authors aren't even parents. Third, you can find a book to describe any type of parenting strategy out there. If we're honest, it's way too easy to choose the book that promises the easy way. Momma never said parenting would be easy. If it is, something's probably wrong.

This is not to say that we shouldn't read parenting books. In fact, I am currently reading a book on parenting. However, as I read these authors (husband and wife) and their parenting strategy of sheltering their children from the world around them, a parental "burying their heads in the sand", I really wish I could see their children now. The book was written long enough ago that their oldest would be in her twenties and their youngest would be in middle school. I want to know if their children are able to function in that "scary and damaging" world the parents wrote about. Are they able to work in and among the culture at large? Are they making a difference in the world? But I'll never know. So instead of relying on books to teach us how to parent, we've found a different approach that works better for us.

We have made ourselves students of parenting. Let's face it, I don't like school, at least not the view from a student's desk. I spent the obligatory 13 years in school, then completed four years of college to get that coveted teaching certificate, then even forced myself to take a certain number of graduate credits to get my permanent teaching certificate (before Pennsyvlania decided to no longer accept permanent teaching certificates but that's a rant for another day and another blog), but then I was done. I do not like going to school. I'd much rather be on the other side of the desk. Someday I hope to be able to audit classes somewhere. I'd love to learn for the sake of learning, without the pressure of homework, tests, or grades. And I would love to be one of those seniors (senior in age, not school years) who takes advantage of colleges that allow those with gray hair to take classes at a reduced rate. But until then, no more bookwork for me. However, when it comes to parenting my children, I get only one chance. There is no extra credit and there are no take-overs.

To accomplish this, I look around me. When I see a family whose children think and behave in such a way that I want my children to think and behave, I observe very closely. And these don't have to be grown children. One can tell pretty early on in a child's life if that is a parenting style you'd like to emulate or not. I have even been known to ask these parents what they have done differently in their parenting. The question usually surprises them but the ensuing conversation is always very interesting and helpful. The answers have never been based on any of the currently popular subjects like hospital vs. home delivery, epidural vs. "natural" delivery, bottle vs. breas tfeeding, cloth vs. disposable diapering, sling carrier vs. baby wrap, preschool vs. daycare, homeschool vs. public school .....you get the picture.

In fact, when I was the mother of 3 preschoolers, I purposely invited a family over with the intent of asking them how they did it and what they think set them apart in their parenting. This family also had 3 children, at that time 1 was in high school and 2 were in middle school. I had watched them for several years and knew that this was a family whose children were going to be strong Christian leaders. I wanted to be a student of their parenting advice. This led to several years of going to them for advice and wisdom and the mother became a strong prayer partner for me in my parenting. Now that they have 3 "grown" children, I know for certain that the family I chose to imitate was the right one.

Granted, there are children who have challenges and/or who are more strong-willed than others. It doesn't matter. You can still tell a lot by watching that child and his/her parents. Is the child maturing in the right direction? Do the parents address the issues and expect more? We all know families with children who have struggled with social, developmental, educational or attending challenges. But when there is purposeful and diligent parenting, you can tell. In fact, sometimes these are the parents to watch the closest and from whom you will learn the most.

For example, I can think of two families that I've observed for several years. In one, their son struggled with medical, social, and emotional difficulties as a young elementary student. Due to persistent parenting, however, he is a very well-adjusted and mature young man. These are parents I have learned from. On the other hand, there is another family with a child who was and is very bright, maybe a little more on the strong-willed end of the spectrum. I've watched a type of parenting that allowed him to always call the shots. As I look at their son today, I know that this is not a type of parenting I want for my children. These are obviously gross generalizations, but you get the point.

Okay, ready for the nuts and bolts? It's really quite simple. 1. Observe from a distance. 2. Get a little closer. Be proactive. Don't expect these families to come to you. In most cases, they don't see themselves as doing anything special. Invite them over. Choose to spend time with them. Take the initiative. 3. Go ahead and ask them the most pressing question. I like to just throw it out there: I see wonderful qualities in your children and I'm wondering what it is that you do differently. They might look at you blankly at first, but given time, they'll be able to come up with what you're looking for. 4. Go to them with specific parenting questions as they arise. Don't know how to deal with a certain behavior? Ask a family you've been watching.

Be prepared for what you hear. Be open to hearing things that are contrary to the way you've been parenting. Before you throw out the suggestions you've heard, think about it again. What is it in that family that made you ask the question, or observe them in the first place? Chances are, if they are farther along in the parenting journey than you, they are on to something good. And definitely spend time praying about it! (In fact, one of the most common answers I get when I ask parents what they think they're "doing right" in their parenting is, "We pray constantly."

And yes, I know that there are exceptions to every rule. Life happens. Each child makes his/her own choices.

And if you really want to learn about parenting through a book, don't use the close-your-eyes-and-point method. Ask the people who are already doing it best - the ones you've been observing.

Finally 16

Hebrews 12: 1 - 3 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

For obvious reasons, I don't often write about events that I have not witnessed with my own eyes. However, as I watched first my dad, and then John and Andrew return from an evening of celebration of Andrew's 16th birthday, how could I not share this wonderful event with you?

I felt slightly left out as the night was taking shape. John took care of the invitations (I never saw the official list), RSVPs (I was never really told an official count), reminders, etc. Every male, older than Andrew, who has played a role in his life, was invited. Knowing that many of the invitees would be unable to attend either due to distance or schedule, each person was asked to write a note of encouragement, wisdom, or advice to Andrew as he continues on this journey from childhood to manhood. The men present last evening read these words to Andrew. Some came with a gift as well; either symbolic, relational, or fun. Many came with a card, but only because their wives told them they couldn't go to a birthday celebration without a card (and without women present they were all very happy to admit this fact).

The evening was advertised as one of messages to Andrew and desserts for all. The desserts, or course, were prepared by the women in Andrew's life - his mother, grandmother and sister. I'm not sure how fair that was since we weren't invited but I'm just going to assume that when Mariana, Eden and Hope turn 16, the desserts will be made by John, my dad, and my sons. Thankfully they have a few years to work on their culinary skills, and I have a few years to lose the weight I gained yesterday by sampling everything that we made - several times.

If you happen to be one of those men who was invited, but you have not had time to write down some thoughts, please do that. You may think that you don't have anything to share, but I can tell you that as I read through each message Andrew received, either sent to John before the party or read to Andrew last night, each person defintely had something to share. There were recurring themes and unique themes; each one important and special. It's probably a good thing I was not invited as I would have gone through a whole box of tissues throughout the course of the evening.

I wanted to share a few of the comments here but when it got down to it, I realized how difficult the task of choosing just a few would be. Not to slight anyone and keeping the authors confidential, here is my best attempt at choosing messages which summarize the evening:

"Andrew, through my walk with God, I developed three P's in my life: Patience, Perseverance, and Prayer. I pray that God continues to lay His hands upon you, guiding you through your life...giving you patience. I pray He takes you on this wild adventure helping you endure your suffering and struggles in life, teaching you strength in your faith, wisom, and love...giving you perseverance. I see your life path right now and know God is lighting the way. I pray that God brings your life great satisfaction!"

"There is one main message I want you to receive tonight, and to remember in the future: that is to remember who you are, because of whose you are. Most men face an 'identity crisis' at some point or another in their lives. There will always be voices willing to tell you what you can't do - that you are not good enough, smart enough, tough enough or that you just don't have what it takes. These lying voices may even try to convince you that you are not loved, nor even worthy to be loved, that you are worthless, irrelevant or insignificant. But the God who created the entire universe with His words, took the time to knit you together in your mom's womb and He would say otherwise...There is only one voice that matters - God's voice. Listen to what He says about you, because His voice is the only voice of truth."
"As a young man growing up...I certainly knew who God was. I went to church every Sunday. But I did not have reverence for God; I did not fear him a bit. Looking back at those years, I can still remember vividly, with much regret, many of my ungodly behaviors that did later affect my adult life. My prayer for you Andrew, is that when you reach my age you do not have such regrets. God does reward godly behavior on this earth. But most importantly, he has prepared in heaven for those who love him an indescribable reward that "no eye has seen, no ear has heard and no mind has conceived. (1 Cor. 2:9)"

"'If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.' Mark Twain The quote is simple, but true! These words have served me well in that, if I am honest and truthful in what I say to people, I really don't need to remember what I've told them. I just rest assured knowing that I was honest with what I said. Hopefully you can find similar value in these words."

"So Andrew I challenge you to listen to God. Hear his voice. Talk back to him, praise him and give him the glory. Pray, and never stop. Have an on-going conversation wtih your best friend who holds the stars in his hands. Love your best friend with every fiber in your body, and learn to trust him with your life. When you know what is important, all else falls into place."

"Throughout high school and college you will be making many decisions that will affect everything else in your life forever. These choices involve the friends you make, the college and career you choose and potentially a girl that eventually will become your wife. It's like you have a fresh piece of paper with markers with no erasers. With each choice, you make a mark in the paper. You get to choose what your life's picture will be. As that picture emerges, you will begin to understand that each decision you make puts a mark on your paper. Great choices help make a wonderful picture, while poor choices can cause some unwanted smears or smudges."

"Tonight I pronounce you with the title of young man. You are no longer a child, but you are now an adult with all the rights and privileges that it brings you. And as an adult, I challenge you with this passage of Scripture:
Romans 12
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - his good, pleasing and perfect will. For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance iwth the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teacher, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others,let him give generously; if it is leadrship, let him goern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.
Andrew, set yourself apart from others as a man of God fully prepared to take on the righs and privileges and responsibility of manhood. You have heard these men share tonight about what it means to take on this role. Learn from them, and also learn from others and from Scripture. use your gifts for the Kingdom of God, and strive to hone them for the glory of God...Live the role that God has destined you to be."