NOTE: THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE ABOUT FIVE YEARS AGO THAT I’M PULLING FROM THE ARCHIVES

We were sitting in the living room visiting with some friends one night when our 2-year-old son Daniel emerged from our bedroom.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh” is Daniel-speak for “Something is wrong,” and the phrase covers a wide range of possible mishaps. It could be something as simple as “I dropped the hairbrush into the sink and now I can’t reach it” or as serious as “I just severed my leg with a butter knife.”

You just never know.

Justifiably alarmed, my wife followed as Daniel dutifully led her back to our bathroom, where she noticed that Daniel had removed all the toilet paper from a new roll and shoved it into the trash can.

Now, the way I understand “uh-oh” is that it connotes an accident – something that wasn’t supposed to happen. Uh-oh, I dropped the remote control. Uh-oh, I spilled my water. Uh-oh, I dialed the wrong number.

Deliberately unrolling all the toilet paper and stuffing it in the trash doesn’t qualify as an “uh-oh” to me. But apparently it does to Daniel. To him, it didn’t matter how the toilet paper got unrolled and made its way into the trash can – Daniel simply knew the situation wasn’t quite right, and it wasn’t something he could remedy, so he informed us with an “uh-oh.”

Two years of fatherhood have taught me that “uh-ohs” are much more common in my life than they used to be – and the older Daniel gets, and the stronger and more daring he gets – I’m sure the “uh-ohs” will continue to multiply. But though sometimes inconvenient, an “uh-oh” always keeps us on our toes, and it makes me thankful for a precious son who definitely makes my life more interesting and fulfilling than it ever has been.

Today as I left for work, I said goodbye to my family, to our baby jumper swing and to another chapter of my life.

My wife got into the attic last night and retrieved a few of our remaining baby items. She was sending them with my parents, who were going to visit my brother and his wife, who are adopting a child. One of the things she sent was this jumpster swing suspended from a spring that hangs over a door frame. It has been a favorite of all three of our kids.

Long before they could stand up, we’d put them in the swing and they’d jump around like crazy, often laughing and squealing in the process. Sarah and I got many laughs from watching them bounce up and down. For Emmalee and Noah, we had a wider doorway where they could swing around in a huge circle. Seeing that swing always brought back happy memories of days gone by.

But those days are now a thing of the past. And bidding adieu to the swing strikes me again with the parenting paradox — that while I’m thrilled to see my children growing to maturity, and while I look forward to what the years ahead hold, the path along the way is littered with times when I realize that certain stages are past and gone forever.

I’ll miss the jumpster, and hope my niece or nephew will love it as much as my kids did.

Last fall we moved into a new house here in Jackson. One of the things we had been wanting in a new home was a setting that would encourage our kids to play outside. We found it in the house we bought. We’re surrounded by woods, and though we own only about an acre and a half of land, there are many more wooded acres around us that we walk through regularly.

My kids love to play outside, and that thrills me as a dad. In our old house, they’d go outside for a few minutes at a time, and that was it — as there was little for them to do. Now they can spend hours outside. They chase frogs and fireflies. They watch dragonflies and squirrels. They’re learning about the evils of sweet gum trees and poison ivy. They’re identifying trees and plants. And their lives are richer because of it.

I, meanwhile, manage to stay busy with all kinds of chores. I have grass to mow, sticks to pick up and a fire pit where I can unleash my inner pyromaniac. With the amount of land we have, there’s always work to be done outside, and I’ve enjoyed my time outdoors as well. As a husband, I’m sure that thrills my wife.

I recently read a book, “Last Child in the Woods,” in which the author, Richard Louv, laments what he calls “nature deficit disorder.” Louv suggests that our society, rather than encouraging children to interact with nature, in reality encourages kids to stay away from it.

“Our institutions, urban/suburban design, and cultural attitudes unconsciously associate nature with doom — while disassociating the outdoors from joy and solitude,” Louv writes. “Well-meaning public-school systems, media, and parents are effectively scaring children straight out of the woods and fields.”

Louv argues that this increasing distance from nature can be tied to all kinds of problems in kids, such as obesity, attention deficit disorder and depression. While sending kids outside won’t be an automatic cure, I think he’s onto something when he points out the benefits of kids spending plenty of time in nature. It fires their imagination and sparks their creativity, and that’s one of my priorities as a parent.

We could have afforded a bigger house on a small lot somewhere, but after living in our home for a few months now, there’s no way I’d make that trade.

June 26, 2010

Dear Daniel,

Sixty-five years ago, a young man named Dietrich Bonhoeffer gave his life for the cause of the gospel. I’m reading about Bonhoeffer’s life now, and his story is a compelling one that offers us many lessons about commitment to God and boldness to stand in difficult circumstances.

Dietrich grew up in Germany, and by the time he was a young pastor, a man named Adolf Hitler had risen to power in that country. Hitler was one of the most evil, wicked men the world has ever seen. Think of the meanest, nastiest person you can imagine, and Hitler was worse. He was responsible for killing more than six million Jews — whose only crime was being Jewish — and for starting a war in which millions more lost their lives. He was a man who hated God and considered himself to be his own god.

Most of the people in Germany were too scared to stand up to Hitler. But Bonhoeffer was not. He knew that it was good and right for Hitler to be killed, and Bonhoeffer played a role in a plot to end the lunatic Hitler’s life. That plot failed. Bonhoeffer’s role in it was discovered, and Hitler had him killed. Bonhoeffer handled his execution with dignity, entrusting his life to the hands of a merciful God.

Why could Bonhoeffer believe this? Here was a young man in the prime of his life with a whole lifetime in front of him. Why would he have such a calm approach to his certain death?

Earlier in his life, Bonhoeffer had this to say about the Bible:

“I believe that the Bible alone is the answer to all our questions, and that we need only to ask repeatedly and a little humbly, in order to receive the answer. One cannot simply read the Bible, like other books. One must be prepared really to enquire of it. Only thus will it reveal itself. Only if we expect from it the ultimate answer, shall we receive it. That is because in the Bible, God speaks to us.”

Bonhoeffer was a man who believed with all his heart what the Apostle Paul said in Romans 8:18: “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Because Bonhoeffer believed the Bible so strongly, he knew that Hitler could take his life, but he could not take his soul – that when his life on earth was over, whenever that might be, eternal life in heaven waited for him because he believed the gospel: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures.

As you celebrate your seventh birthday, my prayer for you is that you would grow to be a man like Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I pray that you will love the Bible the way he did, that you will believe the gospel the way he did, that you will be filled with boldness to stand up for the Lord and for what’s right – like Bonhoeffer did — even if it means an early death. May the Lord deeply impress upon your heart the truth that our lives on this earth are temporary and fleeting, and that an eternity of peace and joy awaits those who have faith in Christ.

I hope that as you celebrate your birthday, it will be but the first of many more in your life. But even more than that, I want you to be ready to face eternity, whether that comes next week or 80 years from now. Bonhoeffer knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sufferings he endured were nothing compared to the glory that awaited him in heaven. As he said upon his death, “This is the end. For me, the beginning of life.” I pray that you will cling to that truth as well.

Happy birthday, buddy. I’m so proud of you, and I love you very, very much.

Dad