Like Father, like Son

Hans really likes to imitate me. I find this to be both a sobering challenge and an opportunistic adventure of character development. I mean the development of both of us. As I ask God to continue His transforming work in my heart I strive to pour as much love and life example into Hans as I possibly can. We read books, wrestle, work on the car, put salt in the water softener, and last week we attended Hans' first pipe organ concert.




Simple things like these have built our relationship and have allowed me to see early fruit in the harvest of righteousness. To the chagrin of some modern "psychologists", faithful consistent discipline doesn't drive kids away. Rather, it beckons them home to the security of love they can trust. A few nights ago, Hans had a bad dream and I heard him calling out in the darkness "Daddy...Daddy". He clung tightly to me and I realized for as much as we tell him he's a big boy, he still feels pretty small. He calmed down as I prayed and spoke God's Word over him.

Besides the tender moments, I also treasure the funny quips that leave the mouth of my three-year old. I was home from work the past couple days with a bout of intestinal flu, during which time Hans had been asking every couple hours "Are you better?"


Finally, this morning I was gathering my things to head back to work and Hans asked, "How did you get sick?" "I'm not sure, buddy, I just got some kind of stomach bug."
Flashing one of those "been there and lived to tell about it" smiles he replied wistfully, "Oh, Daddy...I eat bugs, too!"

They call me, "Daddy"

I have several operational titles at my job. Some of them are serious and others were created just for grins. A firm believer in balance and moderation, I have adopted the acronym MOLT - Minister Of Little Things. There is, after all, more than one way to say "Assistant Church Custodian". There was the time a kid was helping his dad test the sound in the Worship Center and didn't realize he was on throughout all the main hallways. He picked up the microphone, saw me through the windows a couple hundred feet away and said, "Testing...testing...hey, Mr. Janitor Guy!"

It is always a highlight of my day to come home after work and kiss my wife. Eventually this habit resulted in me being able to come home to kiss my wife AND my kids. Two (and soon to be three) priceless little adorable tax-deductions that run across the room screaming, "Daddy, Daddy!!"

That title is one I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

Remembering Isaac

In loving memory of Isaac Firman Poole



Some babies are so precious they change your life without being born. The sound of nothing where there should have been a heartbeat hurt my ears more than bad music. When I think of your birthday I can’t stomach the thought of cake.

There must be millions of kids like you in Heaven. The ones unplanned, unwanted, unloved. Do you know you’re different? That you were our special surprise, much wanted and very loved. Do you know that I’m jealous that Jesus gets to hold you while I just cry and hold your Mom?
You drew your first breath in Eternity.

You’ll never cough or choke from secondhand smoke.
You never scraped your knee or bumped your head.
I never rocked you before going to bed.
I wanted you to pee on me during bath time and burp up on my nice clean shirt.
I won’t hear your first cries, or laughter, or words.
You drew your first breath in Eternity.

You’d really love Hans and Esther. They would take you everywhere with them and be so proud of their little brother. And I’m sure you would teach them to share. Hans is just learning about his shadow and you’ve never even seen the sunlight, yet you live in the brilliance of the glory of God.
You drew your first breath in Eternity.