God’s after two things in us, during our time here.  He’s after our hearts and after our healing.  God desires our hearts to come alive with our deepest desires and to bring those to bear on the world.  And he desperately wants to see us restored, our hurts healed.  The two go hand in hand.  And he accomplishes this differently in men and in woman.  For men, our restoration comes in the form of a journey, a series of events of initiation.  In these events we uncover the love of a True Father, that shapes us into men.  For women, restoration comes primarily through relationship and beauty.  To be truly seen and recognized as vital and beautiful, women come to the fullest understanding of God’s image in them.  In the coming weeks, we will share together and alone, as men and as women, who and how God is awakening and restoring our hearts.

Join us on Sunday nights for the next 8 weeks or so as the men and women share together and separately, just what God is after in our lives.  For more, click here: Sunday night gatherings.

The whisper of a familiar voice and the tapping on my lower leg awakened me in the wee willy winky light of pre-dawn.

(**IMPORTANT NOTE** – For those readers unfamiliar with my family, my wife and I are the joyous and sleep-deprived parents of six beautiful children ranging in age from 4 months up to 14 years. Three boys and three girls.  This is a little story from our past night-time adventures.  I remember it fondly.  I remember how much I love kids.  I love my kids.)

“Doug….”

“Doug……Jonathan is with you, right?”

“Huh?”

“Are you sleeping with Jonathan?”

You see, on any given night in our house, there is a complicated game of musical beds going on. It is a dance of parents and children and beds which often includes a dog, an E-Z chair and a couch. On this particular night, in the midst of our packing, we have also re-arranged said beds to clean and store until we can move. This involved the rearrangement of the room that contains our 17 month old son, Jonathan, and our 4 and 7 year old daughters, Kateri and Gabrielle. Simply, the girls have been sleeping in bunk beds for several years and they have requested to have “side-by-side beds so we can talk and tell stories”. Cute right? Right. Jonathan has been, up to this point, in a crib. Sorry, let me re-phrase. There is a crib in this room that Jonathan occassionally occupies. Last night, we pulled the bunks apart, put them both on ground level, took apart the crib and put the crib mattress on the floor between the now dual single beds. A rite of passage to be sure, the transition from crib to bed. But no ceremony or four day fast or anything. This is, after all, the fifth time we’ve done it. We kept it simple. All three kids were thrilled. And, around 11:00pm they were all actually in their respective beds making us believe they were sleeping. Enter 5 am.

“No. Jonathan isn’t with me. You got him last night when he cried. Kateri is here beside me.”

Honestly, I couldn’t answer this question without first patting down Kateri from head to toe. She could have been any one of three children. I then proceeded to pat down the bed to my left and at my feet. And, a thorough search is not complete until I check the floor beside the bed. After which I confirmed…

“No hon, Jonathan isn’t here.”

A small discussion ensued here about who picked up who and put who back and where. These details are often obscure and based mostly on what we thought we did that night.

“I can’t find him. He’s not in his bed.”

“Weird.” I thought. But nothing to get too excited about. I rolled over and let Judy look for him. Often it’s just a matter of moving a sheet or lifting a pillow and the missing, sleeping child is found. But, not the case this bleary eyed morn.

After 30 seconds of Judy being unable to locate him, I went into investigator mode. I grabbed my Garrity LED Tactical Flashlight (http://www.garritylites.com/) and began my search.

Now, I must admit, as cool and calm as I am, the thoughts still go through my head. My fifth born child, who we safely tucked in last night, is missing, six hours of darkness and silence later. Did he wander the house and fall down the stairs? Kidnapped and ransomed for our fortune? Sleeping in the dog’s nest? Did the aliens come for him as they once came for me?

As a warrior, the calm mind, the deep mind must always prevail so these thoughts, through intense and rigorous training, are pushed down, allowing clarity to prevail. I first played my flashlights beam over the floor of our bedroom, moving aside piles of clothes and books, lifting laundry baskets and hampers. Nothing.

I proceed to the PLS. In search and rescue operations, this is the “point-last-seen”. It’s where we first begin looking for tracks and sign of the missing subject. I cleared off the blankets, pillows and stuffed animals. The crib mattress was indeed empty. I got down on it on my hands and knees. And then I saw it. Could it be? I highlighted the tiny foot with my flashlight beam. Reaching under my oldest daughters single bed, I confirmed it. The foot belonged to Jonathan! Thankfully, it wasn’t just his foot. I traced my hand up his body and bent over low to have a good look. With the side of my head on the floor, I could see the full form of his body. As any good dad would do, I tickled his foot to see that he was responsive. He shifted slightly and I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Sound asleep.

What did I do next? Well, when a 17 month old male whirlwind is sleeping soundly, and there is no clear and present danger to his person, you leave him sleep. I returned to our bed and reported my findings. The child was sleeping and safe, under the bed. Not a word was said after that. My wife knows the value of sleep, ours and theirs, better than even I.

As I said, I’m not ready to be out of the crib yet.

Yep.  It’s done.  Practically irreversible.

I KNOW there are a bunch of you reading this thinking “What could DOUG have possibly done that would be unthinkable!?”

Let me eliminate a few things.

I didn’t buy a Ford vehicle.

I did NOT have a vasectomy.  (I know some of da boys were thinking of that one!)

I did not skip bacon this morning at breakfast cuz I’m worried about cholesterol.

I did not turn my back on Ninjutsu in favor of a weenie martial art.

Far more drastic.

Far more life changing.

Before I let you into my deepest deeds, subscribe to the blog by filling in your name and e-mail address below.  We are offering stuff only to this list as our premiere and exclusive list.  Do that now.  You’ll be taken to a page where you can be the first to see the scandal!

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Every once in awhile, I meet someone who is well into their senior years.  And within a few seconds, it becomes very apparent that they are an Elder not just older.  Can you relate?

I had the honor of visiting with a true Elder today.  His name (as I know him) is Father Jean Paul.  He is an 85 year old missionary priest.

Pause.  Note:  We have completely lost the value of the word “missionary”. A true missionary is on a mission.  This involves a quest.  Danger.  Allies and enemies.  Search and rescue.  Difficulty.  Returning home.  A real mission!  This describes the man I got to know today.  He lived with and fought for the hearts of the people of the deep north.  He remembers traveling from village to village by dog sled, across the tundra.  He prayed, with nothing but faith, at the bedside of his dying people.  He saw life birthed from harshness.  He lived true community.  A true missionary.

He asked me questions with a sharpness of mind that belied his aging body.  As I shared with him my family and the ages of my kids, he grinned.  I paused and waited for him to speak.  (Hint – In the presence of an Elder, spend about 80% of your time listening.  15% asking questions and 5% remembering what they said.)

In his pause he said,

“When you are raising boys you need this…” and he raised his fists in an honorable stance, like an old style French boxer. “Power.”

“To raise girls, you need this…” and he lifted a bony finger and tapped his temple.  “Understanding.”

Oh, what it is to sit at the feet of a man who willing shares his years of wisdom.  Seek it out.  And listen carefully.

I’ve been thinking of you often.  Stay awake!

Blessings.

Doug

The warrior, clad in blood-stained buckskin, stands ready, eyes scanning the surrounding hills. His face, marked with the warpaint of his clan, betrays his fatigue. He lives. Others have fallen, and the day is not yet done. His stance is poised, lance in hand. A deep gash on his thigh has clotted and sealed. Behind him, and to his left and to his right, are his brothers, each maintaining their vigilant watch. They form the perimeter around their village. Within are the elders and the women and children. And other warriors. But he and his brothers are no ordinary warriors. They are cut from a distinct cloth. For if you look down on the ankle of each of these warriors, you will find a commitment, a resolve. Around each ankle is a red sash, tied and running to a hardwood stake driven deep in the ground. Strongheart warriors. Named and chosen by their clan. Their commitment is their life. Here he stands to fight, until victory or until death. When the Enemy comes and presses in, threatening family and village, it is He who stands, staked, and says “This far. No further.”

And so it is today, in a society bereft of warriors, there are those few who have staked themselves to the ground standing against the tide of attacks on our children, our young people, our women and our men. So many live in a world without hope, suffering the bewilderment of a life of wounds. Oh, my friends, the Enemy’s sword has struck deeply. The perimeter has been breached. The heart of the village and the hearts of His people have been compromised. But our tethers are long and lances sharp. We will strike at the heart of the Enemy and show him…

“This far. No further.”

To my brothers in battle – John, Daniel, Tom, Msgr. Dale, Wilf, Malcolm, Wes – cover me. I’m goin’ in.

Going where called,
Doing what is asked.

Doug

Good morning! Oh my Lord. There is SO much in my little ol’ pea brain right now! Right now, I wanted to share with you that if your group, company, church or other organization is in need of some renewal, focus, vision or bonding, Judy and I are available for a very limited number of speaking and facilitation engagements in the next year!

We want to hear from you and see if there is a place we can serve you and your mission. From one hour consultations to three day retreats.

Please contact us and book early!

We can cover any number of topics. Have a look around the blog and you’ll get an idea of our vision and mission.

E-mail me at intothewilderness@gmail.com.

Looking forward!

Doug and Judy

You’re sitting at your laptop, taking care of some important YouTubing.

Your six year old daughter, the most precious thing in your life, taps you on the shoulder and poses this question.

“Daddy, what would you do if I was taken by a thief?”

Well, dad, how would you answer this?

I turned away from my computer and I leaned over and put my face close to hers.  I looked her in the eyes and said,

“Honey, I would pursue you to the ends of the earth and I wouldn’t stop trying to find you until you were back safe in my arms.”

I paused for her reaction.  I know she has some fears.  The fears that grip many little girls in the middle of the night.  Boogeymen.  “Dark Things”, as my daughter names them.

Your daughter needs to know that you will rescue her.  You are the physical representation of a relentless Heavenly Father. And then she needs to know that God pursues her in the same way.

Please tell her that tonight when you kiss her goodnight.

Doug

One night a father overheard his son pray:

Dear God, Make me the kind of man my Daddy is.

Later that night, the father prayed:

Dear God, make me the kind of man my son wants me to be.

- Anonymous