<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880</id><updated>2012-02-26T13:08:01.191-08:00</updated><category term='Time with children'/><category term='Truth'/><category term='Marriage'/><category term='father'/><category term='advice'/><category term='Change in life'/><category term='independenc'/><category term='Hope'/><category term='Self reliance'/><category term='Parent Secrets'/><category term='Forgiveness'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Honesty. Listening'/><category term='Compassion'/><category term='Disappointment'/><category term='Endurance'/><category term='Miracles'/><category term='Fairness'/><category term='Integrity'/><category term='Trials'/><category term='Vacations'/><category term='Courage'/><category term='Obedience'/><category term='feedback'/><category term='Example'/><category term='free time'/><category term='patience'/><category term='self esteem'/><category term='Time management'/><category term='Communication'/><category term='Faith'/><category term='Adversity'/><category term='Challenges'/><category term='work'/><category term='Encouragement'/><category term='Hoe'/><category term='Tolerance'/><category term='humor'/><category term='Accidents'/><title type='text'>Being a Parent: Challenges and Blessings</title><subtitle type='html'>"Being" a parent is much more than "becoming" one. Parenthood is a journey, not just a destination. This blog is dedicated to sharing the daily challenges and possible solutions to improving family relations.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-5500834321194515961</id><published>2012-02-21T15:23:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-21T15:23:36.489-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FamilySearch.org: Doing Family History</title><content type='html'>My children often comment that my main hobby is finding dead people, and I guess in a way they are right. I have enjoyed doing genealogy or family history research for many years, and by learning about our ancestors, we learn more about ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On of my favorite Web sites for doing research is &lt;a href="http://familysearch.org/"&gt;FamilySearch.org&lt;/a&gt;, developed and maintained by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is free to use, and you can find all kinds of records to get your started. The Web site has a number of free online courses, its own database of articles, and information on how to get help at local family history centers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give it a try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-5500834321194515961?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/5500834321194515961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/02/familysearchorg-doing-family-history.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5500834321194515961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5500834321194515961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/02/familysearchorg-doing-family-history.html' title='FamilySearch.org: Doing Family History'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-1997558861688718702</id><published>2012-02-13T18:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T18:51:21.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Value of Work</title><content type='html'>One of the things I have tried to instill in my children is the value of work. When I was growing up, I worked a number of part-time jobs including working on a farm, selling vegetables at a roadside fruit stand, delivering newspapers, flipping hamburgers at a restaurant, working as a waiter at another, ushering and selling concessions at a movie theater, and . . . .well . . . other jobs.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Now, it can be nice when things fall in your lap, but the reality of life is that things often don't come easy, nor are they meant to be. For that reason, we have encouraged our own kids to work, for which they have done: on a farm and at restaurants. They have also done volunteer work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all of this, there is nothing more satisfying that providing for yourself, at least to the extent that you are able. You might not feel that way, and I certainly didn't when I was delivering heavy Sunday newspapers during blizzard and freezing conditions during one particular winter, but those lessons and experiences are what certainly forge our character in many, untold ways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-1997558861688718702?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/1997558861688718702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/02/value-of-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1997558861688718702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1997558861688718702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/02/value-of-work.html' title='The Value of Work'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-2157635861536907459</id><published>2012-01-18T19:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T19:54:54.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Developing Discipline Over Time</title><content type='html'>One of the challenges of life is to develop the discipline to always be engaged in behavior or activities that we will to greater long-term satisfaction in life. Sometimes, my kids wonder why I don't eat tons of ice cream, cake, and cookies. Well, yes, I sure like the flavor and I have cravings to eat to my heart's content from time to time. However, I realize that they will stick to me like glue, and they can have long-term effects on are overall health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For someone who runs a lot in long-distance events, you would think I wouldn't be so concerned about that; yet, we can defy age, and not taking care of our bodies will catch up with us eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to convince someone in their teens or in their young-adult years of these facts. You can sermonize all you want on these topics, so in the end, the best thing to do is live the best you can and hope your example speaks louder than words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-2157635861536907459?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/2157635861536907459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/developing-discipline-over-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2157635861536907459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2157635861536907459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/developing-discipline-over-time.html' title='Developing Discipline Over Time'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-8387941063317182387</id><published>2012-01-09T12:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T12:15:24.703-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Having Fun Together</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-viNWwidghBk/TwtJV0TUnxI/AAAAAAAAAtE/2pyqjVvgtvI/s1600/bestfriends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-viNWwidghBk/TwtJV0TUnxI/AAAAAAAAAtE/2pyqjVvgtvI/s320/bestfriends.jpg" width="264" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As parents, we often spend so much time trying to whoa or entertain our children with all sorts of gadgets, gizmos, and expensive outings that we often fail to connect with them doing much less extravagant activities. Case in point, our family decided to spend five days visiting and volunteering at the largest animal sanctuary in the United States (Best Friends - www.bestfriends.org) right before Christmas, and it was a real fun activity to do something together and to help work with homeless pets including dogs, cats, horses, pigs, and others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm sure visiting Disneyland can be fun as well, but it seemed to create bond and purpose amongst ourselves as we spend time thinking about other living creatures in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randall &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-8387941063317182387?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/8387941063317182387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/having-fun-together.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/8387941063317182387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/8387941063317182387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/having-fun-together.html' title='Having Fun Together'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-viNWwidghBk/TwtJV0TUnxI/AAAAAAAAAtE/2pyqjVvgtvI/s72-c/bestfriends.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-978359955557645703</id><published>2012-01-05T18:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T18:53:05.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Beginnings</title><content type='html'>Many people view the new year as a chance for new beginnings, and perhaps I viewed it in this way. However, by simply viewing life this way, it can stall our potential growth and leave us depressed when we come up short in our goals after two weeks into January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather, I tend to view each day as a new beginning. If things don't work out on one particular goal, revise it and make new attempts to improve on the previous day. Life is meant to be savored each day, and having the chance to renew new ideas and goals on a daily basis can keep us moving forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me personally, finding new ways of building relationships with kids (be they teenagers or adults) can be something you do every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-978359955557645703?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/978359955557645703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/new-beginnings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/978359955557645703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/978359955557645703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2012/01/new-beginnings.html' title='New Beginnings'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-1691475531452489333</id><published>2011-10-11T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T19:29:10.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bonding Time</title><content type='html'>How do you spell bonding with a teenage daughter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-1691475531452489333?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/1691475531452489333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/10/bonding-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1691475531452489333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1691475531452489333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/10/bonding-time.html' title='Bonding Time'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-3520327373693871160</id><published>2011-10-11T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T19:26:10.286-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience'/><title type='text'>Garden Miracles</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-obUjtp6UQdU/TpTPTUbiTZI/AAAAAAAAArU/FcuUOo5cowk/s1600/randall-melon-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="313" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-obUjtp6UQdU/TpTPTUbiTZI/AAAAAAAAArU/FcuUOo5cowk/s320/randall-melon-large.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Over the years, our family has had mixed success in growing a garden,   but for the most part (and as a general rule), plants flourish when you   take care of them. However, from time to time, we end up with seeds  that  start growing on their own, originating from many possible  sources: old  plants from the previous year, bird droppings, the wind . .  . who  knows. These unplanned plants, often called "volunteers" in the  garden  community, are generally unwanted, and I usually just yank them  out of the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, one such plant sprouted in my onion patch, and I was very   tempted to pull it out along with a bunch of other weeds.  However, I  hesitated, thinking of giving the plant a chance to grow.  On more days  than one, I stared at the plant, wondering where its  sprawling leaves  and vines would take it. "What could come from such  plant," I grumbled,  thinking that the area of the garden could be used  much better for  other purposes. Please understand that I didn't want to waste  my time  and water on some no good plant just taking up space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the summer passed, the unknown plant kept growing and growing,   expanding itself into the onions, on to the lawn, and up a trellis   supporting other vegetables. I also spotted a strange melon-like fruit   growing on the ground. It didn't quite look like a cantaloupe or  honeydew  melon, but it seemed to be of that family. Then, it suddenly  ripened. We hauled the melon into the  kitchen, cut it open, and saw a  seemingly bland-looking fruit. Not  quite the rich-looking orange of  sweet cantaloupe, but when we bit into  it, we were amazed out how an  ordinary, unwanted plant could turn into scrumptious&amp;nbsp; treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on in the season, two more huge fruits ripened on the vine as seen  in the picture, weight about 12 pounds (5.5 kilos) each. So the next  time you think something isn't worth the effort . . . that  something is  simply worthless . . . give it a little time, patience, and  care, and  you might be surprised what it turns into at the end of the  harvest. &lt;br /&gt;So the next time you think something isn't worth the effort . . . that something is simply worthless . . . give it a little time, patience, and care, and you might be surprised what it turns into at the end of the harvest. Perhaps, that is the same with raising kids: don't count them out without the right nurturing patience that they need. Never give up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-3520327373693871160?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/3520327373693871160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/10/garden-miracles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/3520327373693871160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/3520327373693871160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/10/garden-miracles.html' title='Garden Miracles'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-obUjtp6UQdU/TpTPTUbiTZI/AAAAAAAAArU/FcuUOo5cowk/s72-c/randall-melon-large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-5178512955495505963</id><published>2011-09-18T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T19:33:30.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Endurance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faith'/><title type='text'>Enduring the Race of Life</title><content type='html'>This past summer, I ran in a unique nighttime race called the &lt;a href="http://www.hikinginutah.com/millcreek50k-2011.htm"&gt;Millcreek 50K&lt;/a&gt;, which started at 9:00 p.m. and traversed a number of mountain ridges, trails, and beautiful vistas during the 31-mile course to the east of Salt Lake City, Utah. One of the challenges of such a race is the relentless climbing that you have to make throughout the night while wearing a headlamp to keep you on the trail. There were times that I felt pretty exhausted, and at one point in the race at 3:00 a.m., I decided to lie down beside the trail and bask in the moonlight . . . mainly to rest up for the next section. At times, the thought of dropping out of the race crept in my mind, but I reminded myself that although it was somewhat slow going, completing the race would be worth it. Near the end of the race, I found myself on top of&amp;nbsp; ridge as the sun was coming up along the eastern horizon . . . a fantastic and warming site that illuminated the valley below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This race in many ways reminded me of the race of our earthly existence: there will be some very dark moments when we feel we can move forward no longer. The blackness appears to wrap itself around us with little hope of prevailing until the end. However, by simply going on, the bright lights of the day will eventually break and dispel the darkness. This won't come immediately, but hope and faith tend to bring greater perspective into our lives. Will there be pain along the way? Absolutely. But the journey and what we learn along the way will be worth it for it is through trials that we learn the greatest lessons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-5178512955495505963?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/5178512955495505963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/09/enduring-race-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5178512955495505963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5178512955495505963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/09/enduring-race-of-life.html' title='Enduring the Race of Life'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-6024168699504050869</id><published>2011-08-26T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T17:30:23.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bird Watching  . . . literally!</title><content type='html'>As a parent, I often (constantly) need to remind myself of the many great things that my kids are doing that often go unnoticed or underappreciated. This past week, my daughter had her wisdom teeth taken out and battled with the pain, infection, and an unexpected fever that unfortunately come on as a result of the procedure. However, in spite of all this, she raised a baby bird that had fallen out of its next until it took flight today. Now, that might sound like a simple task, but when you realized that baby birds need to eat almost constantly, then you realize the magnitude of the task. She had a cage sitting right next to the couch where she lay sick and feverish all week, and then was still able to muster the strength to give the bird the attention and nourishment it need to develop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today, the bird too flight from our home . . . a bittersweet moment, but the fact the bird survived is a simple testament to my daughter's diligence in caring for a small creature that needed someone to care for it. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-6024168699504050869?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/6024168699504050869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/08/bird-watching-literally.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6024168699504050869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6024168699504050869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/08/bird-watching-literally.html' title='Bird Watching  . . . literally!'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-1240378275179491161</id><published>2011-05-07T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T20:16:08.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking Ahead</title><content type='html'>Having some predictability in life can be a calming force to help you prepare for future events; however, as my children have grown, I have come to expect the unexpected, and learning to embrace this fact can help calm troubled seas. Life is about learning, and learning can come amidst the most unusual of circumstances.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-1240378275179491161?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/1240378275179491161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/05/thinking-ahead.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1240378275179491161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1240378275179491161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/05/thinking-ahead.html' title='Thinking Ahead'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-4165145547679734128</id><published>2011-02-26T14:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T14:56:48.683-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='father'/><title type='text'>The Effect of Dry Humor</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home with my youngest daughter, she mentioned that the other day, she had visited a friend who showed her some very old books, one in particular that dated back over 200 years. She commented on how cool it was to hold such a volume in her hands . . . the idea being that anything old brings with it some fascination and intrigue. Then, in my usual way, I commented that I had something that was even older, and I asked her if she wanted to see it. This really piqued (=to arouse or simulate) her interest. I mean the idea that your dad has something more fascinating than what you saw at your friend's house would arouse some curiosity. What could this old book be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once she said that she wanted to see see what I had, I then pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out of the car, picked up a small rock, and then handed it to her. "Here," I said, "is something that is much older than that book."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was certainly not amused. What she thought would be some mysterious, ancient text, turned out to be some old rock in the road. My kids have gotten used to my dry humor, and they often don't believe anything I say. Anytime I start telling some story, they just roll their eyes and ignore me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I really enjoy being a father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-4165145547679734128?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/4165145547679734128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/02/effect-of-dry-humor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/4165145547679734128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/4165145547679734128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/02/effect-of-dry-humor.html' title='The Effect of Dry Humor'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-7810525108109736380</id><published>2011-02-12T10:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T10:37:20.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Investing in What Matters Most</title><content type='html'>As adults, so much of our time is spent in trying to get ahead in life: pursuing higher education, seeking out the best employment opportunities, buying a home, or obtaining things of material worth. Of course, many of these are very worthy goals; however, I wonder how fervent we are sometimes in investing in the emotional, not educational, well-being of our families, particularly our children. Someone once said that you'll never see a hearse pulling a U-Haul (i.e., we can't take material things with us into the afterlife including "Employee of the Year Awards), but I believe the one we can take with us is the relationship we have with our family. Many the most out of every moment with them, through the joys and pains of life, is the fabric that will bind us together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-7810525108109736380?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/7810525108109736380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/02/investing-in-what-matters-most.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/7810525108109736380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/7810525108109736380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/02/investing-in-what-matters-most.html' title='Investing in What Matters Most'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-6891597616602596235</id><published>2011-01-19T20:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T20:51:44.544-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Challenges'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hoe'/><title type='text'>Hope in Times of Need</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;“What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- Oscar Wilde (Irish Poet and Novelist, 1854-1900)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Many of the things that have occurred in my life didn't happen by choice, but I have learned that life generally isn't what we expect to be like, but rather earthly existence is what it is. So, when we are faced with challenges, it does us no good to complain about the unfairness of it all. Rather, if we can allow these experiences to craft and mold our lives, we will in the end better for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Just buckle up and try to enjoy the ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-6891597616602596235?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/6891597616602596235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/01/hope-in-times-of-need.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6891597616602596235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6891597616602596235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2011/01/hope-in-times-of-need.html' title='Hope in Times of Need'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-1708653132169850176</id><published>2010-12-26T15:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T15:09:56.407-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Example'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Integrity'/><title type='text'>Being a Light</title><content type='html'>Recently, one of my brothers and I went to visit my parents, my mother having undergone surgery. She was still recovering in the hospital, and one one Sunday while we were there, my dad encouraged her to sing a song in English and in Spanish. She has always been an excellent singer, and she has never hesitated to share the Good Word with those around her. She sang a couple of Christmas carols, including silent night, and I knew her voice could easily reach into the halls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I enjoy listening to her sing, I thought for a brief moment that voice might disturb people outside; however, I have always been impressed with her unwavering faith and devotion to God. Never ashamed to share her beliefs, something that she has proudly worn on her sleeve. Throughout the visit, I began to reflect on what I was doing in my own life to honor my parents' name. Do I show the same level of faith and devotion that they do to each other as I do to my own family? Does my behavior toward others elevate them to live better lives because of my example?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can never expect that our own children we live a higher standard of conduct than our own, particularly when our actions do not match our words. Personal integrity is something I have tried to learn from my parents, and I hope I can emulate their goodness towards others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-1708653132169850176?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/1708653132169850176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/being-light.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1708653132169850176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/1708653132169850176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/being-light.html' title='Being a Light'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-6305401688209927700</id><published>2010-12-26T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T14:13:40.993-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obedience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fairness'/><title type='text'>Watch for the Reefs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;“&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Life is not what it's supposed to be. It's what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference&lt;/i&gt;.” &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;Virginia Satir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;The following is a fictitious story that I wrote for my family---somewhat didactic in nature to illustrate the importance of obedience, life's arbitrary nature of being seemingly unfair, and truth:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;______________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Let me tell ya the tale of Master Henry . . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;When I was a lad of 14, I decided to leave home in search of new adventure---Home life was good, but my dear parents wanted me to study books and things, and their way of life seemed to weigh me down. I just couldn't see rhyme or reason for minding the Good Book or heeding their counsel. They had lived their whole lives under the shade of the elm trees in the tiny hamlet. Their words seemed so passe, so  . . .  well . . .  I knew they loved me, but call for adventure tugged at my mind. Mama and Papa were good folk, but their life seemed so simple; their moral code so limiting, confining. Papa used to ramble on, saying that a bent arrow never sails true. Or something like that. But, times were changing, I thought, and so I bid them farewell and departed to seek my destiny at sea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thus, as a new mate on the voyage of life, I thought that the rules were meant to restrict my freedom (“No drinking, no lying, no dating maidens from the pirate vessel”), and so once I was on board the ship, I tended to listen to the young sailors on deck---many on their first voyage--- wailing that the captain was just too feeble of mind  and reviling him, suggesting he was out of touch to know better. The rumors even spread that he was part  witch and merman, and that he feasted on squid entrails. Sordid stories, ya see. Plus, the captain walked with a gimp and spent most his "free" time up in the ship's crows nest looking at some old book or something. Must be a pirate map; ditch us all, he might. Walk the plank, fer sure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Had I just left the confines of the home to be bound once again by the rantings of an old sailor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;There was the time when we went into port, and he warned me about hanging out in the pub called, “The Prancing Damsels.” He said, “Ain't nothing good coming from that wretched place.” But what did he know, plus all of my fellow sailors were going there, and nothing bad seemed to happen to them . . . so I thought.” And the more I went, the less offensive a swig here or there from the bottle of life seemed to me. A little salty language there, a little horse play with the bar maidens. Just a little harmless fun. It ain't that bad. And so, the roar of the crowd drowned out good reasoning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Or there was the time that the captain said that a storm was a brewing by just looking at the sky, licking the salt water in the air, and watching the movements of the brine shrimp in the water. Jackie Boy and I decided to take a lifeboat out to the nearby island  in search of treasure . . . only to have our tiny craft nearly capsized in a tempestuous squall. “Ah,  blimey, the Captain got lucky. Tis only chance that we nearly drown, but alas, we doing mighty fine now.” However, some of the crew saw it differently. “Pure gambling,” quoth the other sailors, and three days later on another adventure on the life raft, poor Johnny was taken under  . . . swallowed by the unforgiving sea whose rage spares no man. The old Captain made me swab the deck five hours a day for weeks for my misfortune, and I cursed him for he was always after me. "He's trying to kill me, I tell ya," I lamented. And he made me climb up the mask again and again for absolutely no reason. When I asked him why, he simply muttered, “It'll do you some good, trust me.” "Tis ain't fair, I tell ya." Then, he retorted, “Life ain't all bliss, and if you're expecting it ta be, you're gonna be sorely disappointed.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;However, as I grew older, I could finally see that while I was standing on the main deck of life looking into the uncertain sea ahead of me, the Captain was standing 100 feet above in the crow's nest . . . above the low-lying fog that clouded my vision (the rhetoric and misguided sayings of the day)  . . . and he could see the perilous coral reefs ahead. And instead of riding as close to the reefs as possible (for this was the badgering of the sailors to see if the dear Captain had seasoned skills of a “true” sailor), he purposely swung the ship far out and around the reefs. No cursing or name calling that spilled from the sailors lips could coax the Captain to deviate his course, because unbeknownst to us were the changing currents that in a moment's notice could lull the unwary vessel . . . little by little . . .  into the reefs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;During all this time, many of the crew clamored for adventure and the spoils of some lost booty found aground on some distance shore; yet, we spent most of our time trimming the sails, seemingly floating in circles with no apparent destination  On one season in port, the Captain exclaimed that any man who wanted to leave his service was welcome to do so. Disenchanted with what many considered the drivelings of an imbalance soul, nearly half the crew abandoned the ship, preferring to take their chances with another crew. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yet, I stayed. Little by little, I began to discover that the captain had been using these apparently aimless maneuvers in the sea over the past few months to gauge the firmness of the crew's character. "There's a reason why we stand clear from the reefs of life," he exclaimed. At main deck, you often can't see the dangers and have the youthful tendency to dispel the reasoning (how illogical it may appear from the view from where you stand) of the man upstairs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Then, one evening I perchance to spy the Captain reading the Good book on deck and struck up some light conversation, for by that time, the Captain had shown a liking to me, and I found his somewhat unorthodox demeanor calming. He treated the crew with respect, although this wasn't paid in kind; he also had an uncanny ability to see the future; he also was true to his word. Then, after quoting a scripture or two, he said, “My son,“ for that is what he called me, ”sailing far away from the reefs might not raise the hair on your neck, but you'll always make it back into the harbor. Make friends with those who don't compromise the craft." And then he concluded, "Remember, a bent arrow never flies true.” “A what? Wait,” I interjected. My papa used to say the same thing.” And then, as the Captain quietly walked away into the fog of the night, he concluded, “And a fine man your father was.” Wait,” I burst out, “Do you know my father?”, but the Captain's silhouette faded into the night, ignoring my pleas for an answer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Until . . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="RIGHT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Well, so what's your ending to the story?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;__________________________________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;The Moral of the Story:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;My dad tried really hard, in spite of the many family challenges we faced, to provide for our financial, spiritual, and emotional well-being. When we were growing up, we often didn't see the reason behind my dad's seemingly-arbitrary decisions, but Dad instilled in me a moral compass by which he lived that has had a lasting impact on our lives. Such compass wasn't thrown off the the roar of the crowd or the shifting values of the day. He taught us values and standards that enabled us to make our own decisions later in life when we decided to plot our own courses, no matter what these decisions would be. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;He taught me that life isn't always fair or that the reasons for rules aren't always clear from the deck of the ship, but the only thing we have control of is how I react to these situations: either accept the circumstances and trust in the Captain (parents, God, other leaders) in spite of the roars of the crowd (friends, the media) to do otherwise, or reject and rebel against such counsels. When we are young, we often don't realize that the string on the kite is the instrument to keeping the kite in flight, not to bind it to the ground. Remember that the string isn't rigid; it's flexible allowing some allowance for the kite to find its way. But try letting go of the string one time and see how quickly it falls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;I realized that as a member of the family, I followed the expectations of the family and the rules of society; once I was an adult and left home, I was given complete freedom to succeed or fail. What my father taught me served as the string to keep me firmly grounded, not as the world sees it, but in terms of unwavering faith, and also the strength to stay a float and thrive in the midst of challenges, not if, but when, they sail my way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-6305401688209927700?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/6305401688209927700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/watch-for-reefs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6305401688209927700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6305401688209927700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/watch-for-reefs.html' title='Watch for the Reefs'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-4478461844583116949</id><published>2010-12-08T05:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T05:46:29.700-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Forgiveness'/><title type='text'>Forgiveness: Getting Beyond the Hurt</title><content type='html'>As a parent with the goal of successful and happy relationships, you have&amp;nbsp; to be prepared and willing to forgive and forget all the hurt, misfortunes, wrongs, and indiscretions that your children commit towards you, themselves, and/or others, but you must be equally be prepared to accept the fact that your children may not be as forgiving of any of your shortcomings or mistakes. The only thing you can do is to continue to sow and nourish the seeds of love and kindness and hope that the roots sink deep into your children's hearts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-4478461844583116949?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/4478461844583116949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/forgiveness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/4478461844583116949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/4478461844583116949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/12/forgiveness.html' title='Forgiveness: Getting Beyond the Hurt'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-5784318834603820179</id><published>2010-11-30T19:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T19:29:18.614-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Change in life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fairness'/><title type='text'>Changing Seasons: Just like life . . .</title><content type='html'>On one day last week, I was mowing the grass, enjoying some pleasant weather, and the next day, I was shoveling snow in blistering cold temperatures in front of my house. One thing in life that is always certain is change. You cannot stop it, but you have to accept it under its own conditions. Complaining about the unfairness of life does nothing but make you miserable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-5784318834603820179?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/5784318834603820179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/11/changing-seasons-just-like-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5784318834603820179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/5784318834603820179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/11/changing-seasons-just-like-life.html' title='Changing Seasons: Just like life . . .'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-2900677195218869819</id><published>2010-11-15T20:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T20:23:40.764-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Example'/><title type='text'>Finding Your Way</title><content type='html'>One hobby---or method of maintaining my sanity---is trail running. Instead of running endless miles on pavement, I much prefer hitting the hills or desert in rain, sun, or snow in testing my mental and physical endurance. In one particular race, the goal was to complete a marathon distance  in the desert along some very scenic spots. The rain was coming down pretty steadily at the start of the race, but this dissipated after a few miles in the to course. However, once I reached mile 13, the runners just ahead of me seem somewhat disorientated, and although were distinctive orange arrows on the ground that seemed to point in one direction, it just didn't seem like the right way basic on the basic map we were carrying with us and the lack of footprints.&amp;nbsp; Normally, a race such as this is well marked with colored flags, signs, or even volunteers to point you in the right direction. However, after getting lost and runners going in all directions, the race was called off in light of the danger of runners getting further lost in the desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In many ways, this reflects the challenges which confront us and our children. Too often in life, there are signals or mixed messages that can mislead us and take us off the prescribed course. Fortunately, parents, good friends, and other mentors can keep us on the right path.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-2900677195218869819?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/2900677195218869819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/11/finding-your-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2900677195218869819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2900677195218869819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/11/finding-your-way.html' title='Finding Your Way'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-6523860928231995877</id><published>2010-09-25T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T17:33:55.096-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Encouragement'/><title type='text'>Words of Encouragement</title><content type='html'>Saying the right thing at the right moment is a constant juggling act, especially when trying to help family make the best decisions for their future. Mention the right thing, and you might rewarded with praise and admiration for your great wisdom. Say the wrong thing, and you might be the victim of some nasty porcupine quills for butting into someone else's business. The hardest thing in the process of giving advice is when you know you are probably right, yet the other person is not in the right frame of mind to see that same perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My wife and I enjoy long-distance running, and although we are pretty slow, we enjoy doing it together. In part, I am trying to make up for one of the only lies I made to my wife years ago when I said (when we were still dating) that I liked to jog. At the time, I merely thought that the only thing I could say was that I enjoyed it. It never sounds very appealing for a man to admit he doesn't like to do something physical like running. I must say, however, that I did enjoy other sports including racketball, so it wasn't like I was physically inactive. I just didn't find much enjoyment in pounding the pavement mile after mile breathing in car exhaust down city streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in our early forties I started taking up trail running in the mountains in our area after listening to the stories of an ultrarunner who had completed a number of 100 mile (160 kilometer) races. Now, running in the mountains was something I could really enjoy, and I already had done a lot of hiking, so being in the backcountry wasn't something foreign to me. After doing this for some time, my wife and I started running together, and I helped her complete her first marathon in 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then decided to try her second marathon that would take us through the desert in some of the most beautiful country in Utah. In preparation for the race, she had a specific time goal in mind, and we trained with that in mind. Having goals in life can be very useful in motivating us to achieve things we might never have done before. On this occasion, my wife was very focused on obtaining her goal, and I was just as focused on helping her achieve it. (I must openly say that she is my best friend and I try to thank her daily for the countless acts of kindness and sacrifice she has done for our family. Love for a person can actually grow as the years go by!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TJ6UkPu6xBI/AAAAAAAAAqY/556CJ4pR4Mc/s320/grandcanyon-randyshirley.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Randall, and his wife, Shirley, at mile 22.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TJ6UkPu6xBI/AAAAAAAAAqY/556CJ4pR4Mc/s1600/grandcanyon-randyshirley.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The marathon we were in was small event with only about 120 runners, and the route would take us into some canyons. The nice thing about such an event is that you don't have to listen to rock bands and the noise of the crowd around you for miles. The first part of the race went very well, and we were well on to meeting her time objective. She wasn't feeling 100%, but she looked very strong . . . for our pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we reached the 22 mile mark with only 4 miles to go, I began to calculate what pace we would need to maintain over the last stretch to reach her goal, and it was becoming clear that it would be tight; however, as I glanced over at my wife, she didn't seem very concerned about it. At one point, she asked me to talk about something to keep her mind distracted from the long run, but when I started to talk about some recent family events, she told me not to talk to her. It was at this point that I realized that she wasn't completely aware of the timing and distance. Was she miscalculating in her head? If so, how was I to approach the topic without coming across as too overbearing, competitive, or uncompassionate while not getting my head chewed off? Before the race, she told me to kindly prod her on, but my encouragement could leave a sour taste in her mouth. However, if I didn't say anything (and I did ask her from time to time if she wanted to run a little more or if my walking/running pace was helping her) and she missed her goal, the thought of not reaching her goal might linger on her mind for weeks and months, knowing that she had been so close. I also might look like I hadn't done enough as her unofficial coach. Wow. Between slick rock and a very hard place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this same time, the memory of our last marathon flashed before my mind when we witnessed a couple running near the end of the race in which the man became somewhat upset with his woman companion because he felt that she wasn't running fast enough, and he ultimately abandoned her to complete the race on his own. Ouch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we got to the last mile, I knew that coming under her time goal would be so close, and again, I kept softly encouraging her on. I then decided to run on up ahead and around the corner to see how far we were from the finish line. At that point, you could hear the loud music about a little over a quarter of a mile down the road that was greeting the runners as they crossed the finish line. I waited until she caught up with me, and then I decided to run on ahead to see if I could see the time clock which is often placed over the finish line so you can see your time. Unfortunately, they didn't have one at this race, so I was somewhat clueless as to the time. I waited within 20 feet or so of the finish line and cheer my wife on as she ran the last bit and crossed. I officially completed the race .04 seconds behind her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were both very ecstatic that she crossed the finish line with 58 seconds to spare. A very close race, but a superb personal victory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what does all of this have to do with raising children and building relations with family? Well, knowing when to give advice and when to keep silent is a careful, and often precarious, balance of life. If you say too much and sound like you are rattling off a list of directives, then you might lose your audience. No one wants to feel like they're being preached at. On the other hand, there are times when we need to provide encouragement and boost morale and even sound a warning voice. Finding the right chemistry of counseling and admonition takes practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for this race with my wife, we had a great day together, and we celebrated the accomplishment together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-6523860928231995877?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/6523860928231995877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/words-of-encouragement.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6523860928231995877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6523860928231995877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/words-of-encouragement.html' title='Words of Encouragement'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TJ6UkPu6xBI/AAAAAAAAAqY/556CJ4pR4Mc/s72-c/grandcanyon-randyshirley.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-142897392605313621</id><published>2010-09-12T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T08:15:06.316-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miracles'/><title type='text'>Miracles Happen</title><content type='html'>I fully accept that somethings in life are nearly impossible to do. I can't flap my arms like a bird and take off on an endless flight over the mountains. I also can close my eyes and morph myself into horse and gallop around the desert. Those are givens. However, there are other events that seem nearly impossible, yet through divine intervention or mere luck, things turn out unexpectedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer, my youngest son went on a one-week trip with his Boy Scout troop to Scofield Reservoir, which is located at an elevation of approximately 7,600 feet in the mountains of central Utah. Among other things, he was looking forward to getting his fishing merit badge. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we are NOT a family of fisherman, but over the years, we have enjoyed simple outings that resulted in a few fish and a lot of crayfish from different parts of the state. We are simple folk when it comes to fishing technique, which using involves putting a salmon egg or power bait on the hook and hoping our cast does land around some tree or in our clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One one of the days while he was at camp, a couple of the boys and one of the leaders went to one point at the lake to see if they could catch something from the bank. After some patience, my son was able to catch his first fish. No five pounder, but a fish nevertheless. Then, after casting his line out again, he found himself in an exciting fight with another fish; it seemed to pull and dance in the water more than what you might expect. When he finally was in sight of the fish and got it on land, he realized that by some very improbably odds, the fish's tail had someone gotten lassoed by the fishing line without being impaled in any way by the hook. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what is the likelihood of something like this happening again? Who knows? But, I can honestly say now that it isn't impossible. Improbable, yes, but not beyond the unimaginable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of us have found ourselves in situations within our families (and with our kids) where impassable and difficult situations loom before us. Not having been through some trials before, the road often seems so impossible. Hope can disappear with fear replacing the void. However, like in this whopping fishing tale, miracles do happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-142897392605313621?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/142897392605313621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/miracles-happen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/142897392605313621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/142897392605313621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/miracles-happen.html' title='Miracles Happen'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-8947146677729707266</id><published>2010-09-05T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T15:56:19.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self reliance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='independenc'/><title type='text'>The Value of Work</title><content type='html'>As human beings, we tend to do only what is required of us, and this is true with anything in life. As a language teacher, I find that at times, students are perplexed by their lack of progress and aren't self-reflective enough to recognize that their own behavior---or lack of it---can doom them in learning a language because they only willing to learn as much as required. Few students go beyond what is mandated, but the ones that do, experience greater improvement and satisfaction in their studies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TIPki3Pk4oI/AAAAAAAAApk/mT99jjytzXU/s1600/Rural+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TIPki3Pk4oI/AAAAAAAAApk/mT99jjytzXU/s320/Rural+3.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The same can be said of children and work. Growing up, we always had work and chores to do on top of any outside jobs. I worked on a farm picking vegetables and selling them at a roadside stand; I helped deliver newspapers; I worked at a fast food restaurant; I worked as a waiter; I worked as an usher at a movie theater; I worked in a factory. In all these cases, it helped teach me the value of work and to become independent and self-sufficient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In some cases, people develop the feeling that life owes them something, that they are entitled to things without working for it. I had a student who was failing his classes and was worried about about what his parents would think when he wasn't able to get into the university. He externalize everything and blamed everyone but himself. What is was so unwilling to accept was that his poor study habits had a lot to do with his poor work ethic, not having learned this from an early age. When he found himself in trouble, he had few positive coping strategies to deal with life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents have the responsibility to help kids deal with the challenges of life, particularly when they don't go our way. Success doesn't just spring from the ground without the seed being nurtured by careful planning and watering. Expecting kids to work to develop self reliance is one step toward independence and one's ability to contribute to family and society.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-8947146677729707266?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/8947146677729707266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/value-of-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/8947146677729707266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/8947146677729707266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/09/value-of-work.html' title='The Value of Work'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TIPki3Pk4oI/AAAAAAAAApk/mT99jjytzXU/s72-c/Rural+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-2692369152538441736</id><published>2010-08-31T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T15:53:00.622-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Accidents'/><title type='text'>Going for a Plunge</title><content type='html'>Many years ago while on vacation with my parents and grandparents, we stopped to spend the night a hotel, and like all youngsters, the pool was always the highlight of the trip. For many of these places, kids under a certain age are required to be accompanied by an adult, and Grandpa came with me. It was nighttime in the indoor pool, so it was a little hard to see in the water even though there were some pool lights illuminating the area. As I swam around the pool, Grandpa seemed to be content just to relax in a chair near the pool. Grandpa didn't speak a lot of English, having been raised from a youth in a Spanish-speaking home, but we did fine in communicating day-to-day things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TH2Z0xr_7UI/AAAAAAAAApU/uDzmbtfwfTE/s1600/Textures+27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TH2Z0xr_7UI/AAAAAAAAApU/uDzmbtfwfTE/s320/Textures+27.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;At one point, I swam over to the side and convinced Grandpa to get in. Although he was somewhat reticent about getting in, he jumped into the water. Within moments, I realized two important truths: (1) a non-swimmer and 7 feet of water don't mix and (2) being grounded forever for drowning a family member is not a fun way to spend the rest of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Grandpa surfaced, he was grasping for air, and I panicked because I had no idea that he couldn't swim. I grabbed his arm and pulled him over the the side, and after catching his breath, he let a somewhat embarrassed laugh. I was just glad I wasn't going to appear on the 10 o'clock evening news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The it came to me. Two additional truths: I was certainly not going to say anything about the incident because I didn't want to get blamed or punished for an accident. "Oh, Mom, but the way, I almost drowned your Father. So, what's to eat?" I also realized quickly that Grandpa wasn't about to say anything either. Too embarrassing of an incident. The rest of the evening, Grandpa stayed in the water by the side of the pool, and we fortunately were able to laugh it off between the two of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having had such experiences, I try to laugh things off when my own kids make silly mistakes. None of us is exempt at any page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-2692369152538441736?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/2692369152538441736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/going-for-plunge.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2692369152538441736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2692369152538441736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/going-for-plunge.html' title='Going for a Plunge'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/TH2Z0xr_7UI/AAAAAAAAApU/uDzmbtfwfTE/s72-c/Textures+27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-6326319621852038152</id><published>2010-08-29T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T16:01:30.334-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience'/><title type='text'>One Snowy Adventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THrmLVNb7GI/AAAAAAAAApM/yGoZ_ggqTSg/s1600/Landscapes+158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THrmLVNb7GI/AAAAAAAAApM/yGoZ_ggqTSg/s320/Landscapes+158.jpg" width="202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Over the years, I have realized that doing stupid things . . . the types that lead to natural consequences . . . tend to be part of our human existence, and no one is really able to escape this fact. As a young boy in Indiana, wintertime brought with it the joys of playing in the snow and hoping school would be canceled because of a blizzard. This time of year also presented a number of opportunities to explore the nearby woods and pond at the center of our neighbor. Leading into the pond was a small stream that served not only as our local fishery in the summer, but also the whitewater adventures on rafts after a heavy thunderstorm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realize now that the attention span and wisdom of an 11 or 12 year old is often about as short as a blade of grass, and I wasn't exempt from this fact. In the deep of winter I felt one way to demonstrate my manhood was to cross the frozen stream, having absolutely no idea on how think or thin the ice was. I think we all thought the thinner the better because the cracking of the ice as you tried to make it across somehow demonstrate an extreme level or courage rather than sheer stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one occasion, we decided to try swinging across the creek on a rope that was designed for summer fun, and in one attempt, I lost my grip and crashed through the ice. Fortunately, the water wasn't that deep, and I was able to pull myself out, but young boys seem to do most things against good reasoning and judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back on that and similar times, I sometimes wonder why in the world I did some of the things I did; I just need to have the same level of patience when dealing with my own kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-6326319621852038152?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/6326319621852038152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/snow-activities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6326319621852038152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/6326319621852038152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/snow-activities.html' title='One Snowy Adventure'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THrmLVNb7GI/AAAAAAAAApM/yGoZ_ggqTSg/s72-c/Landscapes+158.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-7517119724507649456</id><published>2010-08-25T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T17:06:49.774-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vacations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Time with children'/><title type='text'>Building Memories with Your Children</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"To be in your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- Author Unknown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years ago when my oldest two children were young, we used their October school vacation break to explore some of the most amazing scenery on the planet in southern Utah. We would load up into our minivan and drive and hike in places like Arches National Park, Bryce National Park, and other lessor-known trails of adventure off the beaten path. One of the traditions I started a few years before in 1996 while we&amp;nbsp;were visiting Kyoto, Japan, was to tell an imaginary story of two young children, Maria and Donguriguri-kun (acorn boy) and their many space adventures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THWuO-BAXxI/AAAAAAAAApE/dt_2azcD9zs/s1600/Utah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THWuO-BAXxI/AAAAAAAAApE/dt_2azcD9zs/s320/Utah.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, over the years, the story began to grow with countless episodes filled with fantastic encounters with alien creatures and plenty of villains to spice up the plot. Normally, a made-up story might have a lifespan of a day or two, but this one continued over the years, and I passed the time on most of our long hikes through national parks by telling my kids these tales. In fact,&amp;nbsp;we crossed some very barren landscape hours upon hours with the kids content as can be . . . as long as I kept the story going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one particular vacation, we pulled into a very small town without having a plan as to where to spend the night. I threw out the idea of spending the night in the minivan at a gas station, and the kids were excited about the prospect of doing so. The kids ended up bedding down in the back seats while I spent a cramped and somewhat uncomfortable night in the driver's seat. However, it was honestly fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the years have passed, and I'm sure my kids wouldn't want to spend a night at the same place. They're adults now, and we all wouldn't fit the same way we did years ago. Still, I relish the memory of doing something a little out of the ordinary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing things outside of the box and experiencing the simplest pleasures of life based on our kids interests and desires can build memories for everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-7517119724507649456?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/7517119724507649456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/7517119724507649456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/7517119724507649456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/time.html' title='Building Memories with Your Children'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THWuO-BAXxI/AAAAAAAAApE/dt_2azcD9zs/s72-c/Utah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434698087575505880.post-2163632688926892062</id><published>2010-08-24T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T16:49:05.494-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><title type='text'>Marriage: What children can learn from us?</title><content type='html'>As a language teacher working with international students from around the world, I often hear a lot of interesting (and often illogical or shallow) comments about a whole range of topics, including dating and marriage. Most of these students in their early twenties. One day, I asked some of my students what they would think if they went out with a man or woman and they discovered that the person was totally clueless about basic history, geography, and current events. In fact, the person couldn't even find their own country on a map.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THRZlLVctWI/AAAAAAAAAo8/ffbWkC8bjxU/s1600/bride+and+groom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THRZlLVctWI/AAAAAAAAAo8/ffbWkC8bjxU/s320/bride+and+groom.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked my students if they would go out with this person again, I was somewhat (but not totally) surprised that some of them commented that it would depend on what the person looked like. Now, that's pretty shallow, but from a limited perspective when&amp;nbsp; you have never had long-term relationships, it is hard to see past the physical. How can you if you have never been involved a long-lasting and happy relationship in which you were totally committed to each other, especially in times of great trials. As a simple analogy, years ago, I thought all ice cream was the same until I tasted premium-flavored ice cream. Man, were my parents just holding out on me all those years by just giving me the generic brand, or perhaps they didn't know there was a difference either?&amp;nbsp; In other words, people often settle on dating and marrying something less than what they are hoping for, particularly in cases where they think the person will change or improve over the long run; however, I remember hearing once that if you really want to drive a nice porche or other similar vehicle, you don't buy a junker and hope it will change. That won't happen. Don't expect to marry someone that is a "project" (i.e., a person who doesn't share the same hopes and standards) with the hope that you can change the person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;So, how does this relate to being a parent and raising kids? Children need to see healthy relationships, ones in which parents might struggle, but they have positive coping and communication skills to weather emotional, physical, and financial storms. Marriages don't have to be perfect because none are, but children need to learn the skills to help them make wise choices in making friends and getting along with eventual partners.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3434698087575505880-2163632688926892062?l=www.beingaparent.org' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/feeds/2163632688926892062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/marriage_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2163632688926892062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3434698087575505880/posts/default/2163632688926892062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.beingaparent.org/2010/08/marriage_24.html' title='Marriage: What children can learn from us?'/><author><name>Randall Davis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13550218644459208589</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hsFgcOcPm4I/THRZlLVctWI/AAAAAAAAAo8/ffbWkC8bjxU/s72-c/bride+and+groom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
