Average-Age Parents

This spring, Wendy & I both turn 45. That means that we’re already halfway through our 40’s! While it wasn’t God’s will for us to have children of our own, we have vicariously experienced certain aspects of parenthood from our relationships with many nieces, nephews, Wise Guys, Jugheads, and friends’ kids over the years. With my own homespun statistics, I deem that Wendy & I are now at about the average age of a Jughead parent. Frankly, it has surprised me over the last few years that any Jughead parents are actually younger than us; as a rookie Wise Guys manager in 1992, I was even younger than all my staff! But logically, if a typical couple in our metro area started having kids in their late 20’s, and we have a mix of birth orders among our 10-year Jughead age range, the average parent here is probably about 45.

Why does this matter? Well, from my perspective, it matters because although our programming, Juggle Jam traditions, juggling techniques, and events change relatively little year to year, I change. One of my rare colleagues (who has worked career-long with youth jugglers) is Art Thomas of St. Ignatius Circus Co. in Ohio. He commented to me at a recent festival: “When we started out coaching, we were like the cool older brother. Then, we became more of a father figure. Now, in my case, I’m a grandfather figure.” His insights are appreciated, as it reminds me that our strengths and weaknesses in relating to and leading the kids change over the years. Even my own favorite relational reality and analogy, being an uncle, changes as the kids and I age.

Just like all parents (and aunts & uncles) have to go through metamorphoses in learning to care for and mentor infants, toddlers, pre-schoolers, elementary/middle/high schoolers, college-age, and adult children, I’m learning how to change while my students’ ages stay the same (while “juggling” each student’s individual changes, like a real parent). Meanwhile, if the Lord wills for Wendy and/or me to live long enough to be the age of an “average” grandparent, we hope to actively mentor, love, and be supplementary family figures to as many young(º) people as possible. May all parents, kin, and mentors out there strive to not just be average, but extraordinary in the lives of the youth under our influence. No matter what our age.

Little Tests of Big Faith

One need not know me for very long to figure out a few basic things about who I am. For starters, I’m an expressive, emotional, intense, often obsessive, people-oriented man of deep Christian faith who believes that God is sovereign and I am not. How’s that for a “large talk” sentence? ;-) For me, “big faith” is a necessity.

Consider this past year: Wendy underwent major heart surgery at Mayo Clinic to repair her mitral valve. My close friend and Jughead dad, Eric Rynders, died of heart failure. And my coaching staff began to downsize, with projections of me being the only after school coach next year while further empowering and training my already-strong student leadership team. In all these things, I’ve trusted God for life & death and the big picture.

However, I’d like to publicly confess that it seems more difficult for me to exercise my self-described big faith in the little tests of life. To be more specific, while I’ve learned to trust God instinctively through many major issues, it’s challenging for me to trust and thank Him through mid-year roster downturns or choreography frustrations or more readily going out of my way for a snack time conversation (e.g., while working on deadlines). I am trying to grow through the little tests of my faith, whether how I handle a child’s contrary behavior or trusting that my efforts in (or on behalf of) a child’s life will count even if he or she is only a short-term Jughead or we never see each other again after graduation.

This winter, I failed a test of childlike faith when I was dealing with a roster setback. By contrast, Job lost all 10 of his kids (to death!), along with his business and wealth (and then his health), and his response was, “The LORD has given and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21b, ESV).

I am working on “blessing the Lord” even during this busy season of ours, praying for the joy that comes after (and while) trusting Him through the little tests rather than “playing God” by presuming to be angry or despairing when my will is thwarted. Behind every high throw, record, and dance move is a company founded on God’s grace, for His glory. Big and little.

Beyond Mud Pies

Human beings are made for discovery. We are designed to explore our surroundings, how things work, and perhaps the most complicated subject of all: ourselves, including our abilities, relationships, shortcomings, and being made in God’s image. 

Regarding our pursuit of passions, consider this C.S. Lewis quote:  “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”  (The Weight of Glory, 1949)

The context of Lewis’s quote is his plea to find our infinite joy in God, but I believe it also applies to more mundane but still life-changing pursuits such as choosing to “discover ourselves” through doing hard things and investing for long-term character-building rather than the ubiquitous temptation for instant (and often destructive) self-gratification. Metaphorically speaking, don’t settle for dirt or even copper when we’re meant to go for the gold.

February is a “mud pie” month in terms of weather and the temptation to eke out an existence rather than thrive. Character is often meted out in the mundane, and discovery through discipline. Here’s to a month of rising above the mud and refining the golden opportunities to live, love and learn through daring discovery and thinking beyond ourselves.

Connections

“When we started out together, he was only my brother in name...(then) I made a connection.” That tender line was spoken by Charlie Babbitt describing a breakthrough with his brother Raymond in Rain Man (1988). We all need connections; it’s a precious reality that is part of the mortar of a well-founded life.

Most often, connections with others don’t just happen; they’re cultivated, nurtured, developed. Sure, many people with similar (or complementary) personalities and “chemistries” can hit it off right away (whether in familial, platonic, romantic, or professional relationships), but even then, I can think of no relationships in the universe that continue “connecting” by chance in the long run. Our culture foisted on us the ubiquitous myth of “quality time” in the 90’s. Although I don’t know the source, I love the rebuttal: “Love is spelled “T-I-M-E.” It takes quantity time and intentionality to connect with others.

When my friend and Jughead dad Eric Rynders died last month, my initial devastated reaction yielded to sweetness by my recollection that for about six years, Eric & I saw each other through our mundanely-scheduled event called “HubClub.” Wendy will attest that I didn’t always have the best attitude going into our monthly Sunday evening gatherings, largely because my sphere of extended family, friends, and Jugheads makes for a busy social calendar. However, I sensed that for Eric, HubClub was a peer-based oasis in an often difficult lifestyle of battling his heart condition while managing his household so that Dawn could work, the three Rynders kids could be driven in any number of directions each day, and Bea could even be homeschooled for a year. For the most part, I overcame my short-sightedness while Eric was alive, and now that he’s gone Home, I’m humbled that we were able to connect as friends in a unique way during what proved to be his last years on Earth.

When my 15-year-old nephew, Andre, died 11 years ago, it was my wake-up call to the (underestimated) effectiveness of working with youth. Eric’s death has been a wake-up call in being content with career calling (again). For every single time I struggle with my lack of juggling tricks or passing prowess that limit my ability to coach, I have to remember that there are 100 opportunities to connect with kids here—connections that may appear mundane on the surface but that can be mutually life-changing and ultimately fulfilling of the 2nd greatest commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:18; Mark 12:31)

Born to Juggle

My dad, Ron, turned 80 in October, and all five of his kids were present to celebrate with him. My mom, Audrey, would have been 80 on Nov. 18. (She died just shy of 52.) Since we couldn’t celebrate my mom’s 80th in the flesh, I honored that date by wearing a shirt Wendy painted for me for Christmas 18 years ago:  “Born to Juggle,” with a baby in a stroller juggling a bottle, a ball, and a block with a “P” on it.  When my mom gave birth to me, she didn’t set out to nurture a future juggling director. However, she did work hard for my first 16 years of life to instill in me godly virtues, faith, linguistic and theatrical skills, a love for family, recreation, travel, and exemplary unconditional love that transcends health, wealth, life, and death. My dad didn’t see his bouncing baby boy as a future entrepreneur working with kids in a vaudevillian art form, but he trained me in manhood, education, sports, frugality, citizenship, marital fidelity, and taking responsibility.  

To my perspective, I was born with a thousand possibilities for my life’s direction. However, from an eternal perspective, I believe that I was literally “born to juggle,” inasmuch as God ordained my gifts and led me “in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake” since my own Day One (see Psalm 23:3). Similarly, I have no idea for which specific purpose(s) that any of our 12 dozen current Jugheads were born, but that’s not for me to know. All I know is that through God’s grace, with the help of my coaches & student leaders, I’m passing along life lessons that will hopefully accumulate in kids’ hearts and nudge them toward God’s will for their lives. I was born to follow Jesus, and juggling is a tool. He knows not just what’s good for me, but what’s BEST for me. I don’t believe in luck or coincidence. I believe that I’m called here, and that every Jughead has value and latent callings from birth that are developed through love and mentorship...and juggling.

Some of us may live 80 years; others will fall short. Regardless of our tenure on Earth, may we all say in the end that we fulfilled our callings­—however unexpected they were—for our joy, others’ good, and God’s glory.

Less is More

Juggling in front of a big window atop the Hancock Tower in Chicago.

The above philosophy does not come naturally to me. From about ages 16-37, I struggled with fairly significant bouts of burn-out: my effectiveness to my various responsibilities often diminished due to being spread too thin, and it took genuine crises in my life to have the courage to drop one or more activities that were burdens on my schedule and well-being. So, I’m not merely giving intellectual assent to the wisdom of a simplified lifestyle; I’ve learned through trials that even a man of my energy level needs boundaries and is most effective when doing fewer things well.

Here at JH, we specialize in three basic areas: youth mentorship, juggling, and performing. Outside our regular clubs & camps, we essentially only have three events involving the whole company: Jingle Jam, the Winter Showcase, and Juggle Jam. But even with such a seemingly simple schedule, even one day a week for the average Jughead can make a big difference in their sense of accomplishment, connection, community, and accumulated skills.

At the most involved end of our member spectrum, some student leaders immerse in virtually every event, gig, camp, and bonus volunteering days, making this their main extra-curricular focus. On the surface this may seem imbalanced, but their choice to become resident experts streamlines their schedule and offers lasting benefits. The track record of many JH grads having successful collegiate and professional careers indicates that their choice to specialize, rather than do too many things half-way, pays off.

Just like a page needs margins and a runner needs rest, a life needs to breathe. And while the Type-A achiever in me seems at odds with the guy longing to just stare out the window, I’ll keep a handle on my commitments, and how our JH clubs are structured, so we can have moments of levity, laughter, and time for just being lest we be overly defined by our doing. As I’ve said before, balance is key, and sometimes it takes just as much faith to give things up as it does to take things on.

For Such A Time As This

Rookie Bennett H. (Thur. Rec. 4th grader) learned to juggle while wheelchair-confined (!) due to a long-term leg injury.

     We’re in the simplistic and relatively blissful season of normalcy: no imminent graduations, show rehearsals, festivals, or transitions. It’s often during these “ordinary times” that some of the best life lessons can be taught, and role modeling is often most real in mundane circumstances. Every year, I have kids that drop out without a good-bye. I also have kids that go down in history as deeply significant to the company collectively and/or to me personally (regardless of their length of tenure). Ironically, I can never truly predict how any given Jughead career will pan out! Part of this makes me slightly jaded— “Why care if kids just stop coming or lose interest?” But another part of me rises to the challenge— “Is there any way I can lovingly influence the kids for however long I have them, whether they discontinue due to choice, graduation, or circumstances out of their control?” I know that affecting a child’s life need not take years, but sometimes minutes (for good or bad). I believe that “love” is spelled “T-I-M-E” for a child, but still, quantity of time doesn’t guarantee that a true difference is made in a young person.  

     Queen Esther is the biblical hero who stood in the gap for the Jewish people in the face of imminent genocide. Her cousin and adoptive father, Mordecai, challenged her to bravely approach the king and intervene to stop the edict to slaughter the Jews: “For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place...And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14, ESV). Sometimes it takes decades or even centuries to change a kingdom. For Esther, influenced by her wise mentor, it took a couple of feasts (after she and many Jews fasted and prayed for three days!). Even 10 years is only a fraction of a person’s life (assuming he or she reaches 78.7 years), so I can’t slack and delay good work in the lives of youth because time is on my side. It’s really not. But whether over a couple of meals, a couple of years, or a couple of words, my mission to develop youth through juggling remains alive, and I’m grateful to my coaches and student leaders to be serving your kids with Wendy & me for such a time as this.