When It Stops Being A Game

By now you must know the story of the high school football players who clocked the ref.

For some insane reason, Good Morning America and Outside the Lines hosted these boys and their lawyer on Friday morning so they could rationalize their behavior.

Impossible.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

The ref may have used racial slurs when referring to the players. The coach may have told them to take the ref out. If those two things are true—and I am of the opinion that at least one of them is—then, so what?

The two boys would like us to believe that they didn’t want to hit the ref, but they were following orders. And that the coach who told them to make the hit is like a father to them, so they obeyed.

I laughed out loud because this approach is typical to their generation. Nothing is ever their fault–even when we have them on tape. Hopefully some adult in their lives will seize on this moment to teach them about personal accountability.

It’s not just what the kids said. It was the comments underneath the article, too. A lot of commenters were of the opinion that if the ref said what the players say he said, then he deserved it.

“What were they supposed to do? Let him get away with it?” Or “If they hadn’t hit him, he would have gotten away with it.”

As if there aren’t rules and governing committees and administrators who can handle this very type of thing.

You know what would have made real, lasting waves? A coach pulling his team off the field to protest racist comments made by the official.

Instead, a forfeit was more costly in that moment than integrity.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

After twenty years of playing and coaching, I can say with certainty that these kinds of things do not come from nowhere. Everybody knows when a program is off the ranch. From coaches to parents to the school and district administrators—they all are lying if they say they had no idea this was the tenor of that football program. Also when they protest “This is not who we are, this is not what we stand for”.

Yes it is. The NCAA calls it “lack of institutional control” and it is never a surprise. Only a regret.

If you are going to let your child get mixed up in the world of sports to the extent that they are wearing a varsity jersey in high school, then you have an obligation to know what kind of a program you are sending them into.

People talk, and where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

Called to Less

Last weekend we met the coolest family camping.

The kids met first, as kids will do in a campground. Kate and Ezra were a perfect match, two cuties in glasses laid out on a blanket playing with their dolls. Her younger brother Phoenix, and Annie, just a year apart, took to each other like fish and water. There was a dump truck involved, and lots of giggling. At one point they were just laying on their backs in the sunshine, laughing up into the clouds.

Even the older ones, Micah and Gabriel, found kinship in their reading habits. As I listened to them talk about books, I felt the sweetness of a conversation between a boy and girl just on the edge of being too embarrassed to talk to each other.

Mom and Dad—Amber and Sundance—made the most amazing decision a year ago.

It’s not for everyone. But it confronted Shea and me, in a good reflective way. So I’m going to share it.

They sold their house and bought a trailer.

Sundance has a job that travels for weeks at a time, and Amber and the kids got to missing him. So Amber did a little research on homeschool and talked Sundance into making their lives mobile.

Usually they go where he goes, but Amber wanted to spend the summer among the redwood trees, which is how they ended up in Klamath, camping across the row from us.

All of the questions that may be popping into your head can be answered over at Amber’s blog, www.notsopermanentpillow.com.

I will tell you that when I asked if it was forever, she shrugged and said that was the beauty of it. If they are done, they’ll just go back home. In the meantime, they are together, having adventures and learning how to function as a family in a 28 ft trailer.

That was the part that confronted me. They down-sized their quantity of life to up-size their quality of life.

No big house where everyone has their own room, tons of toys and three TVs. Just one shower, one toilet and one closet.

It made me think What would it take to get my family down to one closet? The answer is a lot. It would take a lot. And that made me sad.

It’s been on my heart for a while now. Our home in Oregon is everything we thought we wanted in a home, brand new and beautiful. Our So Cal money went far in Oregon, but the truth is, we could have chosen something smaller. Something less. That would have allowed us room to travel more, tithe more, share more of what we have.

But when we bought this house last year, we let our egos make the decision. That’s a hard and humbling thing to admit. And now too much of what we have is tied up in the house.

I don’t think it was by chance that Amber and her family were camped across from us at the mouth of the Klamath River. I think God was saying Look. Listen. See what life can be when you stop trying to keep up. You already know that keeping up is not what I want. But you have to find the courage to let it go.

I’m not packing up my kids and heading off into the sunset, because homeschooling is not my gift. No, no, no.

But Shea and I have some praying and listening to do over the next year.

Homemade Jambalaya

Last weekend, when it was 68 degrees and still August, I needed some comfort food. So I drug out my dutch oven and made something hearty.

Jambalaya.

Jambalaya used to be something I only ate in a restaurant, like it was a giant Southern mystery food, to be made properly by folks trained in the art. Then my March 2011 issue of Bon Appetit recipe arrived touting a recipe for jambalaya on the cover and I thought Maybe I could…

I know people who reject recipes with more than 5 ingredients.

This one has 17. Four of them are meats, totaling just under four lbs.

The first time I made it, I used all the meat it called for, which was insane. The final product was meatastic and made vegetarians cry for a 20 mile radius.

I don’t make it that way anymore.

Instead, I stick to the bacon, chicken cutlets or thighs, one smoked or andouille sausage and shrimp. No meat or tofu would be good too.

You have to love a recipe that starts with bacon as the base.

There’s a lot of chopping to do with this recipe, so I employ my resident sous chef to help me out. I go large with the veggies, more than the recipe calls for: onions, celery, bell peppers, red, yellow, orange peppers, carrots, garlic.

Here are the ingredients chopped up and ready to add.

I would like to point out that when the recipe calls for 3 10 oz cans of tomatoes and chiles, it means the cans where the tomatoes and chiles are combined.

NOT three 10 oz cans of tomatoes AND 3 10 oz cans of green chiles. Let me just say that would be a lot of chiles, if you happened to do it that way.

I also do not add the chili pepper or the cayenne because the girls and I like our taste buds to function. For those whose taste buds have been burned away from years of hot wings, I serve sriracha on the side.

Lastly, since we don’t eat white rice, I had to learn to simmer the pot for twenty minutes after adding the brown rice and before throwing it in the oven or the rice will be al dente. Or hard. Depends on your perspective, whether you’re the person who just spent three hours cooking it or the knows-too-much-for-his-own-good 9 year old sous chef in the house.

The recipe says 10 servings but it is way more than that for us. Everyone usually has seconds and then we eat it for lunch the next day too. It holds well in the pot, if you wanted to leave it there with a stack of bowls and some crusty bread, and let everyone help themselves. Perfect for lazy football Sundays.

All of this to say: Jambalaya—it’s not just for restaurants anymore.

Bon Appetit Chicken and Sausage Jambalaya (March, 2011)

12 oz applewood smoked bacon, diced

1 1/2 lbs smoked fully cooked sausage, cut into pieces

1 lb andouille sausage, cut into pieces

1/2 lb tasso or smoked ham, cut into cubes

1 1/2 lb onions, chopped (4 to 5 cups)

2 large celery stalks, chopped

1 8-10 oz green bell pepper, chopped

1 8-10 oz red bell pepper, chopped

6 large skinless boneless chicken breasts, cut into pieces

2 tablespoons paprika

1 tablespoon fresh thyme, chopped

1 tablespoon chili powder

1/4 teaspoon (or more) cayenne pepper

3 10 oz cans of tomatoes WITH green chiles

2 1/2 cups of broth (I use more like 3 1/2)

3 cups of rice

Preparation

Position rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 350°F. Cook bacon in very large pot over medium-high heat until brown but not yet crisp, stirring often, 8 to 10 minutes. Add smoked sausage, andouille, and tasso. Sauté until meats start to brown in spots, about 10 minutes. Add onions, celery, and bell peppers. Cook until vegetables begin to soften, stirring occasionally, 10 to 12 minutes. Mix in chicken. Cook until outside of chicken turns white, stirring often, 5 to 6 minutes. Mix in paprika, thyme, chili powder, and 1/4 teaspoon cayenne. Cook 1 minute. Add diced tomatoes with chiles and broth; stir to blend well. Add more cayenne, if desired. Mix in rice.
Bring jambalaya to boil. Cover pot. Place in oven and bake until rice is tender and liquids are absorbed, 45 to 48 minutes. Uncover pot. Mix chopped green onions into jambalaya; sprinkle jambalaya with chopped parsley and serve.

Summer 2015: Camp Happy Update

Clear water swimming is a lot less stressful than ocean water swimming. (Except when your son yells “Mom, I found an underwater cave!” and you tell him not to swim through it and he already did. That’s stressful, maybe even more than the thought of a shark lurking in the surf.) We have enjoyed swimming holes and rainbow trout nibbling our toes and water so clear we can see forty feet down. And we learned that lake hair is much better for our hair than beach hair. But not as cute.

The summer pool membership was a good call. Mostly because they serve booze there.

I came out large against camps and our kids only did a few. For the most part, it was a good call. We really got into a summer rhythm of going to bed late and sleeping later. There were lots of activities up my sleeve that we never even had to try, like the $2 summer movies or the local kid’s museum. However, I was really ready for school to start yesterday. Really, really ready. I need a break from refereeing Every. Waking. Moment.

There were lots of playdates. I enjoyed getting to know the moms better. We bonded over muffins and floaties and even a camping trip. There are some rock star moms here in our valley.

This was a playdate. At a swimming hole! Oregon rocks!

In August, there will be smoke in the valley. And when I say smoke, I’m talking 31 days straight. Not like in So Cal, when the smoke can hang out for three or four days and then the wind shifts and blows it all back to Arizona. It just sat there for weeks and weeks. Can’t see across the valley bad. Can’t go outside bad. Shouldn’t be having football practice but the season starts in two weeks so what are you gonna do bad. Bad.

We did a lot of reading. I am three books into the Clan of the Cave Bear series and have three Alice Hoffman books waiting on the bench. I love me some Alice Hoffman. Gabriel highly recommends the Wings of Fire series for boys his age (9-12). He’s read it twice this summer, he loved it so much. Kate continues to believe that reading is over-rated, but she liked her Frannie K. Stein required reading book well enough.

Once Upon a Time is a really good show. Not really, but it’s been my summer TV binge and I’m Hook’d.

The garden. The garden is a whole other post which I don’t have time to write because I have one million tomatoes to turn into sauce. And I’m nervous about that because there have been two canning fails over the last few weeks. I’m shook.

The seals blew on these red hots apples. They aren't supposed to float. And they surely are not supposed to be up side down. — The seals blew on these red hots apples. They aren’t supposed to float. And they surely are not supposed to be up side down.

The bottom of the jar blew out of this one. What??? — The bottom of the jar blew out of this one. I don’t even know…

We have one last camping trip this weekend, and then we say goodbye to summer 2015, one of our best yet! Next up: 100 Days of Holidays!

Only 115 days until Christmas!

When an Apology is Not

Not all apologies are created equal.

As Rhett Butler said to Scarlett “”You’re like the thief who isn’t the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he’s going to jail.”

I recently read an article that talked about the difference between remorse and repentance.

Remorse is when we cause someone pain and feel guilty and will do anything to make our guilt go away. It’s me focused.

Repentance is when we desire to understand the pain we have caused others, to acknowledge we have work to do on the inside and humble ourselves enough to do it.

Remorse makes us say I’m sorry for all kinds of wrong reasons: to make something stop, or go away; to distract; to regain power; to inflict pain.

Repentance gets us back into right relationship with God and the person we hurt, which is a place where true understanding and forgiveness heals the wound.

Remorse looks like a bandaid, until the next time. Repentance is a tree of life.

I guess this is on my mind because I’ve noticed a trend in apologies that seem long on remorse and short on repentance.

This was handled years ago…I can’t change the past…let’s move forward, I promise to do better…I never meant to hurt you…I didn’t know.

Other people’s sins are not our business, it’s true. But in this day of instant social media, we are privy to more information about people than ever before. Sometimes, the apologies of public figures help us decide if we can vote for them or continue watching their show or buying their products or listening to their music or cheering for their team.

We do have to judge, in that sense, the quality of their character based on the quality of their apology.

We know a bandaid when we see it.

We should look for the life-giving tree.

Share this:

Share this:

Preparation

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: