Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

I was 20 years old before I got “the talk”.

When I was going through puberty, my parents were still finishing up going through newborns–and somehow “the talk” escaped them.

They decided to do better for my brothers, so they purchased Barbara and Dennis Rainey’s Passport 2 Purity weekend retreat kit and Dad started preparing for a guys weekend retreat.

They rented a cabin at one of our state parks and purchased massive amounts of meat and “bellywash” (soda). And they headed off for a weekend of manly pursuits (fire building, mountain biking, and copious amounts of meat.)

And, of course, they had “the talk”.

Joshua and Daniel got theirs. John and Timothy got theirs.

Then Mom started talking of preparing for Grace’s weekend retreat and Anna and I got jealous.

It wasn’t fair, we said. We’d never gotten “the talk”. We’d never enjoyed a weekend retreat with our mother, doing girlie things. We’d never listened to the Rainey audio-cassette tapes that my brothers rolled their eyes and shook their heads at.

So at last, when I was 20 years old, my parents decided to backtrack. They’d do the right thing by their eldest daughters. They’d give us “the talk.” Better late than never, right?

We got a hotel room at a hotel with a pool. We ate Macaroni Grill for dinner. We explored craft boutiques during the day and had lunch at The Green Gateau, a fancy little Lincoln restaurant. And when we weren’t doing other things, we listened to the Raineys talk about purity.

Not surprisingly, “the talk” was geared towards a younger audience. The content was good, but nothing we hadn’t managed to discuss already in much less formal conversations. The official “birds and the bees” segment passed so quickly that we had to stop and comment to each other. “Was that it? Was that all they were going to say about the mechanics?” Apparently so.

Yes, “the talk” was a bit belated–and therefore rather comical.

But we came away from our weekend talk having joined the fraternity of Passport 2 Purity graduates, proudly bearing our badge of membership: a musical rendition of Colossians 1:18.

Now all the Menter children can proudly sing:

“He is also head of the body, the church. And He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself may come to have first place in everything…” YE-AH-AH

And sing it we do, whether needling one another with a “private” reminder of the weekends we shared or enjoying a moment of family togetherness around the Fourth of July dinner table.

Ah, fond memories of “the talk”.

I’ve heard the horror stories about pastor’s kids, elder’s kids–kids who resent the role their fathers have, kids who grow up feeling second place to dad’s ministry, kids who see and rebel against the hypocrisy their families practiced. I’ve met some of these children, now grown, still filled with hurt and hate from the double lives they lived. And every time I hear their stories, I cry for them and I thank God for my dad.

I am a EK–an elder’s kid. I have been practically my whole life. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t an elder. I grew up knowing that if the church doors were open, we’d be there. I knew that Dad would be leading a Bible study, teaching a Sunday school, administering communion. I’d have to listen to him preach and teach. I’d have to sit still and take notes. I knew people were looking at Dad and at our family, expecting us to have it all together.

We didn’t.

We still don’t.

But, nevertheless, whenever I read through a list of the qualifications for elders (Such as the one found in 1 Timothy 3:2-7), I think that if someone ever asked me whether I’d recommend my dad as an elder, I’d give an unqualified yes.

A bishop then must be blameless

blameless: free from guilt or blame, innocent

My dad is not perfect, no man is–but I can’t think of any charge against my dad that would stick. He strives to love God with his heart, soul, mind, and strength–and to love others just as Christ loved him.

the husband of one wife

My dad has been husband to one wife–my mother–for the past 27 years. I have never known him to be unfaithful to her. Instead, he has demonstrated Christ-like love, honoring my mother as his wife–and insisting that we children honor her as well.

temperate, soberminded, of good behavior

Unlike myself (particularly in my teenage years), my dad is not one to swing to extremes. He carefully measures his words and his actions and lives a life marked with self-control.

hospitable

I remember my dad telling me once that we had a great privilege of being one of the families that God chooses to put lonely people in. And my dad has willingly welcomed that role. Even when our home was stuffed to the gills with more children than most people can even fathom having over, let alone having, Dad was willing to open our home to more. Neighbor kids, families from church, and lonely older people (at least they seemed older to me back then–Now I realize that they were probably just singles in their thirties!) were always welcome to chat, to join us for a meal, to sit in the living room and play with us kids or talk. As we children grew older, our friends were willingly welcomed into our home, to events with us, wherever we were. Now that my parents’ home is enlarged (and not so full of kids), Dad delights in having people over for movies or games on his projector or for a meal around the dining room table. It’s a rare Sunday dinner that only the related family sits around the table.

able to teach

Once upon a time, I might have cringed when my dad got up to teach or preach. I was young and my dad was a nerd. Other teachers might have sprinkled their sermons with all sorts of “hip” and “cool” references. My dad’s teachings weren’t full of pop culture. They were full of Scripture and science, things that I didn’t think were so cool in those days.

Today, I eagerly look forward to hearing my dad teach and preach. I know that when he teaches, he teaches with great faithfulness to the Word of God. I know that he takes care to examine the Scriptures carefully. And I’m no longer embarrassed when he tears up as he speaks of the great grace of God bestowed on sinners such as we. Today, I am thankful that I have a Dad who is able to teach.

not given to wine

I was still an elementary student when my dad pulled all of us children into the kitchen. He had seen one of my brothers pantomiming drinking beer and then staggering about as if it were cool to get drunk. He carefully explained that he didn’t ever want any of us to think that getting drunk was cool. And then he poured his entire case of (non-alcoholic) beer down the drain can by can. It wasn’t that he thinks drinking is wrong (and for that matter, this wasn’t even alcoholic)–but he didn’t want any of his children to think that it was cool to be “given to wine.” I haven’t seen anything resembling alcohol cross his lips from that day on.

not violent…but gentle, not quarrelsome

I’ve feared the rod, but I’ve never feared my dad. He spanked me but never hit me. I’ve never seen my dad raise his hand to my mother, never seen him try to resolve an argument with anyone by getting physical. My dad was firm, but gentle. I’ve never known him to pick a fight.

not greedy for money… not covetous

Far from being greedy, my dad is a wonderful example of giving. He doesn’t toot his own horn or announce his giving–he just silently gives, far above and beyond the tithe. While some might complain about the the many things they’d given up to raise over a half-dozen kids, my dad never complained. I’ve never seen my dad drooling over big houses, new cars, or fancy toys, never heard a word of regret that he doesn’t have more stuff. He has what he needs–and he is content to give, whether out of his poverty or his abundance.

one who rules his own house well, having his children in submission with all reverence (for if a man does not know how to rule his own house, how will he take care of the church of God?)

As one of his daughters, I can easily say: my dad rules his household well. It isn’t a show put on for outsiders, a charade in order to save face. Rather, my father has been an example of a godly head–a man who has consistently laid down his rights to serve his family. It is an honor to submit to his leadership.

not a novice, lest being puffed up with pride he fall into the same condemnation as the devil.

For over twenty-five years, my father has been tested. He might have been a young elder when he started out. In fact, I think he’d tell you that himself. But having seen him tested over the past many years, I can say that my dad is not a man of pride. He is a man of wisdom, of understanding–but he is a man of humility. He does not aggrandize himself or make much of his own intelligence. Rather, he humbly submits and serves.

Moreover he must have a good testimony among those who are outside, lest he fall into reproach and the snare of the devil.

I have had the privilege of working in the same department of the University of Nebraska Lincoln as my dad (although in different sub-departments)–and I know from conversations with his coworkers and with those higher up within the department that my dad has a good testimony among those outside. I have never heard anyone speak ill of him.

If someone were to ask me today for the name of the man I feel best exemplifies the qualifications for an elder, there would be no doubt in my mind: I’d nominate my father for the title. I am honored to submit to him as my father and as an elder.

I love you, Dad!

Have you ever stopped to wonder what life was like when your grandma was a girl?

Have you ever stopped to wonder what your grandma was like when she was a girl?

Somehow, I think we can be tempted to look at pictures from the past and hear the stories our grandparents tell and forget that once upon a time they really were children. My grandparents weren’t just once a miniature grandma and grandpa. They were children, with childish ways of looking at the world and childish dreams and aspirations.

I’d never really thought about it until one day when I was poking through my grandma’s old papers and found a composition notebook from her health class–in the 1940s.

Reading her penned notes in the margins, I suddenly became aware of grandma as a girl.

World War 2 was raging, and Grandma was apparently quite caught up in the war effort.

“Hitler is horrid, abominable, cruel and absolutely detestable” she wrote in a fit of zeal. She wasn’t at all fond of the axis powers–and didn’t think they deserved a capital letter. No “Axis” for Carol Marie Pierce. She’d write it “axis.” And she declared, “Let’s not bury out hatchets till we bury the axis.” In another location, she wrote that “Hirohito, Mussolini, Hitler: ought to be shot.” Shot was underlined no less than four times–and her parenthetical statement (“They will be too”) afterwards indicated her confidence in the Allied troups.

Her patriotism cam out as she scrawled “V for Victory” and “U.S. strongest nation in the World”. Douglas MacArthur, who apparently was somewhere in Australia, must have been a hero, for Grandma penned a short note to him and Mrs. MacArthur: “I admire your courage.” She encouraged others to support the war effort, with her injunction to “Buy War Bonds and Stamps.”

That’s not to say that all her notes were about the war. She used her best cursive to write out her full name “Carol Marie Pierce” and location “Walnut, Neb”. She wrote of her dislike of studying health. And on occasion, she realized that her brackets could make a nice little face–and spent several lines drawing bracket faces.

It’s odd. That face looks familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen it before. In fact, I’ve drawn it before.

And suddenly I realize that my grandma was once a girl–just like me.