My Dad

My Dad passed away last week after suffering a second stroke. I am so thankful that I was able to be with him in his last few days and at the very end. To thank him for being such a great dad when I was growing up; to tell him that I will never forget how much he loved me; to remind that he has 13 grandkids that he has left a legacy to; and to let him know that we are going to be ok.

My Dad wasn’t anyone famous nor did he have a long list of outstanding accomplishments. But he was my Dad. And I learned a lot from him. He taught me to ride a bike, throw a ball (not like a girl!), ride a motorcycle and drive a car. And he taught me some things just by living his life while I watched. Some things I learned from him because he did them well. Some things I learned from watching his mistakes. That’s the great thing about dads. You can learn from them in the good and bad.

My Dad and me:

Below is what I shared at my Dad’s memorial service.

“We are here to give you a glimpse of who our dad was.

It is easy to list out so many things about Philip McNutt so that you can know more about him. Born on September 23, 1942 in Cushing Oklahoma, raised in Okmulgee and Morris. The only child of John and Jane McNutt, who owned and operated a small drugstore. He became an electrical engineer working in Texas, Saudi Arabia, Arkansas, and eventually this area. He loved Dr. Pepper, Ham radios, Mexican food and his motorcycles.

But these things do not tell who our father was. As we considered the things about our father that we would like to share with you today, a passage of scripture from Galatians, in the New Testament, came to mind.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Galatians 5:22.

This past week, when we knew my father was in his last days, I asked friends from over the years to share memories of my Dad so that I could remind him of all the people who love him and remember him fondly. I received many stories. Some funny – some touching. But always, without exception, the emails or messages were finished off with comments like this: I will always remember how kind and patient your father was. And what joy he brought with his hearty laugh and his smile.

All of these attributes were apparent in my Dad while I was growing up, but his biggest gift to me was his faithfulness, gentleness and love.

My Dad was faithful: steady, reliable, loyal, trusted. He was a faithful husband. A faithful father. And a faithful friend. While our family lived in Saudi Arabia, my sister and I attended boarding school for our high school years. Both living in the middle east and attending the Stony Brook School were amazing experiences in my life and have shaped me into who I am today. While my sister and I were at Stony Brook, and our parents were in Arabia, my father wrote to each one of us every single week. Without fail, there was a hand-written letter in my mailbox updating me on all that was going on at home.

My Dad was also very gentle. His words were gentle as were his ways. Whether it was in discipline or confrontation or just day to day interaction, he was gentle. His gentleness combined with his humility made it so easy to hold him in high regard. And everywhere he went he was held in high regard. Even as he entered into the remote territories of Arabia to administer bringing electricity to those areas, his gentle ways, and his unique red hair, often meant that he became the honored guest in the Bedouin tents, where they served him endless coffee and tea (neither of which he liked) and always the most desired part of the meal – the goat’s eyeballs.

But what I treasure most from my Dad is the love that he showed me. I never doubted his love for me. His love was most often in deed, whether he was providing for us, guiding us or playing with us. And after I was married, he did all he could to make sure that my husband would love me as a godly husband should. For several years early in our marriage, my Dad took Dave (as well as Robin and Wes) to Promise Keeper events to encourage him as a young husband and father.

I pray that when my children experience these godly qualities in me, they will know they are of God’s spirit, and that I first experienced these qualities through my father. I will forever be grateful to my father for his love, his gentleness and his faithfulness.”

Here are my kids being goofy with Grandpa a few years ago.

Here he is sharing his love of motorcycles with my kids.

I miss him already.

Finding a new normal

We’re finding a new normal in our house. Actually it’s been happening for a few months.

We have an 18 year old living under our roof. A senior in high school. We’re preparing to send her off to college. The applications are done, she has heard from 3 of her 4 choices, and has a couple of scholarship offers. FAFSA is filed and more scholarship essays are underway. We are beginning to attend events or go through annual routines which are “lasts” for her. Spring events are beginning to fill our calendar and we are looking ahead at significant dates in August.

And so this is our new normal. Figuring out what it’s like to let go.

Yesterday we had a brief conversation about her curfew. She ever-so-tenderly lodged an ever-so-gentle complaint about it. We reminded her that her curfew is often about when we would like to go to bed. At least one of us is always up, or at least dozing on the sofa, until she is home. (Go ahead, judge us as overprotective parents… I don’t mind.) She reassured us that she could come home without us being awake. After all, at college she will be on her own, responsible for her own sleeping and waking and much, much more. And we know that.

So we are entering that phase of parenting where we let go and pray like crazy that all the advice, life-skills and wisdom we have poured into her have stuck somewhere in her heart and mind.

Letting go. This is our new normal.

Once we move our first-born into her dorm it will be time to begin the college search for Sam.

Like I said, letting go. It’s our new normal.

Destination: Disney

Our much anticipated trip to Disney is now behind us. It was a crazy-busy three days. (Plus two days of travel time).

And now our kids can honestly answer that they have “been there, done that.”

Over the years I have always heard what a perfect vacation Disney World is. A clean place; family-oriented; something for everyone; and seemingly magical.

Several years ago, my friend, and now boss, Kris Stoner was leading a group of volunteers into a 3-day conference. She gave us all an inspirational talk taken from the leadership of Sam Walton (of Wal-Mart fame). She encouraged us to step into the conference with our eyes open for what was well-done. Not what was wrong or could be done better, but what was well-done.

So as we rode on the monorail into Magic Kingdom (I had last visited 28 years ago) on that first day, I decided to do just that. I had heard about so many things that are done well at Disney. I set out to see the things well-done that would (hopefully) make our experience great and leave us wanting for more.

Here is what I saw and experienced (with a tidy little acronym)

Disney Photo Pass: Whenever we were ready for a family photo we did not need to hunt down the most trustworthy tourist to hand off our camera to and hope they aim and zoom well. We just grabbed a photo pass employee, who took our photo with their camera, and sent the photo to our photo pass account online.

Inspiring: Whether it was the parting words of a guide at an attraction to dream big and live well, the cheerful disposition of employees, or simple quotes from Mr. Walt Disney himself posted around the park, there was always an inspiring message.

Satisfaction of customers was an obvious value at Disney. When one host stopped to talk to us and figured out that Jack was not keen on fast rides, dark rides, or suspense-filled rides, she offered him a chance to win a golden ticket by answering questions from his favorite Disney movie. So after acing the quiz on Pirates of the Caribbean, his prize was ice cream for the family. And when we encountered a bit a frustration with unclear guidelines for child swap combined with fast passes, it was righted and Dave, Chelsea and Jack got a behind the scenes tour of Rockin’ Rollercoaster.

Never were we disappointed in any of the attractions we chose. Whether it was visual appearances, the latest in technology or amazing special effects, we were always entertained and often wowed. (Well, except for the Prince Caspian attraction, but besides that one…) My personal favorite was the Monsters Inc Laugh Floor where animated monsters interacted with the live audience. A.MAZ.ING. and HYSTER.I.CAL.

Employees were all around. In the parking lot, there was never a question about where to park or where to catch the tram. Inside the park, if we had a question we could always spot a host. There was always a custodian in the bathrooms. Many times I saw a manager walking from one place to another with a litter-picker – just in case he spotted some litter. It was not left to just the “street sweepers” to keep things clean. Oh, and the characters. They were everywhere and so patient as family after family and child after child had their photos taken with them.

I think Minnie got a little over-friendly with Dave…

Yes, dreams really can come true. Seriously, what little boy wouldn’t love to face off with the dark side? (I don't think big boys were allowed...)

At a loss.

I'm at a loss for words.

For now you can check out my friend’s blog for a look inside Haiti.

I’m at a loss for words. Not so much at a loss for thoughts but they are all jumbled up in my head and fighting with my heart. I may share more later.

destination: chelsea's choice

Our firstborn is a senior in high school.

A couple of years ago, Dave and I were reflecting on where we are in life. Approaching the years where we send our kids out into the world, one by one. We talked about how we could finish the “at home” part of their lives well.

One of the ideas we settled on was to offer a “senior trip” to the senior. It will be a family trip taken sometime during the senior’s last year at home. Destination: senior’s choice.

So tonight we took the plunge and hit the “purchase” button online. And we leave in exactly two weeks.

Can you guess where we’re going?

Chelsea’s choice: a place she’s never been. Where we fully expect we will all act a bit like children…

How will you ring in 2010?

How are you spending New Year’s Eve?

We’ll be ringing in 2010 with good friends, which is typical for our family. Games, food, lots of laughter. That’s pretty much how we have spent every New Year’s Eve since we were married. All 22 of them. Except one. One that we will never forget.

I thought on this New Year’s Eve it would be fun to share the story of how our family rang in 2004.

As 2003 came to a close, we had been residents in the UK for just over a year. We decided to explore part of England we had not visited. The options were endless, but it needed to be cheap since we were living on a missionary budget. And this was sort of a last-minute plan. So we did a little online research for free museums open in New Year’s Eve.

We quickly saw that much was free and open in London, and though it was a bit of a drive, or train ride, we thought it was worth it. We hadn’t been to Greenwich yet, so we made plans for the Maritime Museum and a boat ride on the Thames. Then we realized – why not stay all evening and ring in 2004 in London. It’s one of the cities you see on TV. And we felt familiar with the city. So we devised our plan. We were going to have a very memorable New year’s Eve as a family. (Do you feel the foreshadowing?)

So off we went. We made it to London in good time. We picked up a boat ride to Greenwich (included in our public transport tickets) and ate our packed lunch. We were on our way to fine family memories. It was a little chilly, but we were prepared. A few museums closed early, but we had a lovely time in Greenwich, we rode a city double-decker bus (not a tourist one) around London. We meandered around Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and Big Ben/Westminster Abby. It was cold, and there were some unexpected kinks, but nothing that could really dampen our spirits. We were on an adventure that would be a family memory for sure.






Eventually it was time to make our way to Big Ben, just in front of Westminster Abby and we found a patch of grass. Perfect spot to see Big Ben at midnight. And strategically located so that just after midnight, we could start our trek north and hit the tube station that we needed to reach our car. We had even confirmed our exit plan with a police officer (since many Tube stations would be closed at midnight.) This night was working out great.

But it was cold; right around freezing. And it was misting a bit. We had an hour to kill, so we decided to walk across the river and walk back over the millennium foot bridge. We hadn’t done that one yet.

So we took a leisurely stroll – along with thousands of people. Laughing and joking all the way and so pleased we had chosen this for our New Year's Eve as a family. A night we would all remember… I had even thought through those credit card commercial lines. “Transport tickets: £25; Petrol: £30; Dinner: £40; New Year’s at the foot of Big Ben: priceless.”

As we crossed the foot bridge and turned left toward Big Ben, the crowds began to build. We reminded the kids that now is when we implement our safe traveling strategy. All kids holding the coattails or hand of an adult. Never let go. And so we progressed – slowly. And as we reached the corner to turn toward Westminster Abby, we reached an impasse. At that spot, people were trying to go 4 different directions. But there wasn’t room. Jack was in a stroller, and eventually I had to pick him up and fold the stroller. Immediately people pushed into the new empty space, crushing him against me. He panicked. Screaming. Chelsea and Sam saw him screaming and began to scream as well. We could hear other voices in distress “you’re crushing me!”

Dave and I were doing all we could to hold our ground and not be shoved around by the crowd. Our kids were in hysterics. Dave and I were being separated and the kids were clinging to me. I looked at Big Ben. It was 11:50pm. The Hare Krishnas were somehow making their way through the crowd, dancing and singing at a deafening volume.

In a quick moment both Dave and I saw dead space ahead and gave each other a look like “see you there.” We worked our way through the crowd. Jack’s ear-piercing screaming help split the crowd some. The dead space we came upon w as a police barricade, leaving an open patio area by the entrance of a building. When we reached the barricades, an officer immediately took the kids over and they began to breathe and calm down. That is, until they told me I could not come over. They would deal with the kids. So the kids were whisked off behind a concrete column. I wasn’t too panicked, and for good reason. It wasn’t even a minute before Chelsea and Sam were hysterical because they were separated from us. So the officer came and got me, but told Dave he had to stay behind. I was able to calm the kids mostly, but they were convinced they would never see Daddy again.

At this point people were being allowed over the barricades and checked for sore ribs and such. Literally, people were being crushed by the crowds. Dave eventually snuck his way over. We all huddled in the corner of the building’s patio area. The kids cried. We breathed deep. And soon I realized it was midnight. 'Happy New Year!" We told the kids. They sort of laughed, starting to breathe easy. That was until..

We realized we were looking straight at the Thames River, with the London Eye in full view. We did not know that since 2000 (when the eye was new) fireworks are launched at midnight to ring in the new year. It actually was a great view – except that Jack is petrified of fireworks. I don’t just mean scared of. I mean PETRIFIED. And we were stuck looking right at them. And not only hearing them, but feeling them. We can now say that Jack has not heart defects, because if he did, he would be dead. Jack froze with terror. All I could do is hold him and cry.

Fortunately, the fireworks ended quickly, and Jack breathed again. We knew (ha) that we were on the other side of this terrifying experience.

It’s at this point in telling the story that I wonder if the listeners are done, or if they’d like to hear the rest. Because there is more. So read on if you wish.

We thought after about 20 minutes, as the crowds dispersed, it would be safe to head out. It was raining now, temps hovering right around freezing. We made sure we were all bundled, Jack back in his stroller, and off we went. Only to discover that our planned route was not an option. We had not successfully turned the corner at Big Ben toward Westminster Abby before midnight. Therefore, the crowd we were in was all being directing downriver. The opposite direction we needed to go. So we walked. And walked. We could not cut up the side streets. They were closed. When we could turn, we would encounter loud, raucous crowds throwing glass bottles or urinating in the streets. We would turn back, and walk further the wrong way.

So we walked. Circumventing much of central London. Any open Tube station was so crowded our kids refused to enter. They’d rather walk. In the freezing rain. So we did. 2.5 hours later we reached the Baker St. station. It would take us straight to our car. As we entered, our train was approaching, so we hurried down the stairs and hopped on. It was then that I reached down to get Jack out of his stroller. His lips were blue and he was completely pale. He was soaked. We all had been walking for over 2 hours in the freezing rain. He sat.

Subtly I tried to communicate to Dave (without Chelsea and Sam noticing) that Jack wasn't doing so great. Dave was not so subtle in ripping off Jack’s wet clothes, ripping off his own dry clothes, and swaddling Jack in them. Dave sat rocking Jack, warming him, and fighting back tears. Gradually, all five of us relaxed and were able to breathe and laugh. That is until a really drunk guy in the car behind us slammed open the door so he could hang off the edge of the car to relieve himself. It sent Jack into panic again, and sent us into prayer that the guy’s urine stream wouldn’t hit the third rail. The last thing we needed was our kids to witness a death by urination.

Around 4am, as we pulled into our driveway and began to carry the kids up to bed, one of them said, half-awake, “can we just stay home next year.”

Ahhh. Family memories. Happy New Year.

too busy to blog

Wow it’s been a while since a blogged. Mind you, I’m not a daily blogger. But it has been a whole month since I posted.

No real reason, but conveniently it’s the season to blame it on being too busy. So yeah, I’ve been too busy to blog.

Too busy doing what, you ask?

- busy planning and cooking a yummy Thanksgiving meal shared with friends
- busy raking leaves (and raking and raking and raking)
- busy decking the halls
- busy listening to many Christmas songs at many Christmas (and one winter) concerts
- busy getting our family together for a photo shoot
- busy celebrating the season with friends
- busy having conversations
- busy sitting in my new chair
- busy just being with the family

There’s much more busy on my list between now and the new year. Things to do and times to just be.



What are you busy doing?