Yep, it’s true. I’m going to be somebody’s grandpa. It really seems difficult to believe until I’m standing in front of the mirror to shave in the mornings. And then I realize I guess I really am old enough after all.
When Annie first called us to give us the news, there was a flurry of conversation between Annie, Martha and myself about who would get to tell whom about the upcoming blessed event. After all the territory was established, I got to tell the girl who gives me my coffee at Starbucks, and a total stranger who was in line in front of me at the grocery store checkout. Thus, the pecking order was set, and I understood completely where grandpas ranked.
Ever since the news broke, I’ve had a lot of people offer their congratulations, and a few more who found it necessary to inform me that it means I’m really getting old. But, most of them asked me one question – what is the baby going to call me. I hadn’t even considered that until so many folks started asking, but I soon decided it was worth my attention.
“Grandpa” is much too pedestrian, and “grandfather,” much too formal. “Gramps” is a sitcom character and “Pops” runs a bait stand at the coast. We can’t use “Poppa” because Martha and I both called our grandfathers that. I searched the internet and found a website that exhausted all the possible names for grandfathers, even allowing for people to make their own suggestions. In Norway, it’s “bestpappa.” That might be a bit pretentious, but I like the sentiment. “Big Daddy” could be a 50’s beatnik or, at least, a constant reminder that I needed to stick with my diet. “BopBop?” Isn’t that an anime cartoon character? “Bubba?” Too redneck. The animal names listed, like “Granddog,” “Fish,” “DuckDuck,” and “Turtle” were just too ridiculous to even consider. Then, there was a whole list of them that described unflattering personality traits - “Grumpy,” “Chippy,” “Grunt,” “Kinky” and “Honey” among them.
Right now, I’m leaning toward one that Annie came up with – “G-Diddy.” It’s very cool and current, and it definitely makes a statement. The only problem I foresee is that I would have to buy some expensive sunglasses and a new wardrobe, and trick out my Expedition in order to live up to the hype.
Actually, I’m not going to worry about the whole name thing any more. I’ve decided that the baby will call me whatever he/she wants to call me. Grandfathers rarely have a choice in the matter. One thing I am concerned about, though, is what that grandchild will call me fifty years from now. When that baby grows up and is about to become a grandparent for the first time, I want to be remembered fondly. I want them to remember that I was always joyful and that I was a source of encouragement and strength. I want them to recall my prayers for them, my kind words, and the fact that I was always willing to listen. I want the words “steadfast,” “gracious,” “wise,” and “loving” to be synonymous with my name. I want my grown-up grandchild to remember my passion and my faith. I want to leave that kind of legacy.
It's available! Our first book, Setting Up Stones, is now ready for online pre-orders. It will still be a couple of months before it's delivered, but you can purchase it now and save a little bit of money. With gas prices the way they are today, that's not a bad thing. The way I figure it, if you buy forty copies of Setting Up Stones at the pre-order discount, you can probably fill your tank once and have plenty of gifts to give your friends and family. You can order the book from amazon.com or christianbook.com. When you go there, search for either "Setting Up Stones" or "Martha and Greg Singleton" and it will take you right to it. If that seems like a lot of trouble just to get a book, then all you have to do is look over to the left-hand column of this page, and under "LINKS", click on "Order SETTING UP STONES from amazon.com" or "Order SETTING UP STONES from christianbook.com". Thank you all for your love and support!
A few years back, Hillary Clinton usurped an old African proverb and wrote that it “takes a village to raise a child.” I never read her book, so I’m not certain about the assumptions that she made. I can draw my own conclusions from the theme, though. Without hesitation, I know the responsibility of rearing a child lies solely in the hands of the parents. But, I also know that in every child’s life there are others that have the opportunity to make a life-changing impact. So, to say it “takes a village” is much too institutional, too impersonal for my experience. Besides that immediate family, it takes grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers, pastors, coaches and friends to mold and shape a child’s perspective and decisions. It takes those who are just as committed to that child’s well-being as the parents themselves to come along side and provide love, encouragement and support at every turn along the way.
I know this because I lived it. And, yesterday, I attended the memorial service for someone who, for every day that I’ve lived on this earth, loved me unfailingly and poured herself into my life. Ethel was not my mother, or any blood relation to me at all, but she hardly ever missed any ballgame I played, any concert I sang, and was in the congregation for many sermons I preached. She was there when I graduated, and when I got married. She was at the hospital when both of my children were born, then went to all of their football games and concerts. She sat with me at my Dad’s bedside as he went to be with the Lord. As my own mom stated so well when she spoke at the memorial service yesterday, our families were so intertwined that “sometimes it was hard to know whose kids belonged to whom.” Other than the occasional “You did so well!”, or “I’m so proud of you!”, Ethel didn’t have a lot to say about our connection, but then again, she really didn’t have to. I knew that she loved me as much as she did her own brood of five, and that she was completely committed to the fulfillment of God’s work in my life. She lived her faith in a way that let me know that the greatness of God stretched beyond the walls of my own home. Her life reinforced all that my parents were teaching me, and verified its validity.
Sometimes we get so caught up in our own agendas that we forget that those agendas are simply the starting point of our mission, and not the entirety of it. God’s call on our lives stretches far beyond the walls of our home. He has placed within our realm of influence many others to whom we have a responsibility. If we prescribe to the idea that “it takes a village to raise a child,” then that responsibility is faceless and too easily passed on to someone else. I am called to a commitment to others. God has crafted your days to bring you to a place of influence in someone’s life. It’s much more authentic than a village – it’s you!
I have several friends who are graduates of the prestigious school of music at the University of North Texas. Whenever that group gets together, inevitably, they begin to swap stories about a real-life Dallas-area musician who happens to embody all the traits of the stereotypical musician’s caricature – an oblivious, vacant airhead with absolutely nothing on his mind but his music. Durwood is, indeed, a legend.
One day, he was packing his instruments into his van for a gig* he was playing in Amarillo, 300 miles away, up in the Texas Panhandle. Durwood, of course, had given no previous consideration to the logistics of his trip. So, when he saw an 18-wheeler passing by with the name of a company and “Amarillo, Texas” emblazoned on the side, he decided it would be a good thing if he just followed the truck all the way to his destination.
Durwood’s first clue that something was amiss should have been that the trip was taking a lot longer than it should have. But, he really got suspicious when all the road signs were in Spanish. He had followed that truck all the way down into Mexico. Amarillo was now about 600 miles back in the other direction. Durwood was not a man of vision.
I would define “vision” as “knowing who we are and where we’re going.” Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” We’ve often heard this scripture used as a rallying cry for a floundering church. It has motivated congregations to re-focus and set specific goals for worship and ministry. What would it look like if we applied the truth found in that verse in our homes and families? What’s the specific vision that you have for your family?
Prayerfully seek God to determine what He wants your family’s vision to be. That can be as foundational as the attitudes that He wants reflected in your home. And, that’s really a great place to start. As you work to enact those basic characteristics into the structure of your home, you will most likely see some other things begin to happen, too.
In Proverbs 29:18, we are familiar with the King James translation of the word “perish.” Other translations probably more accurately define it as “unrestrained,” “uncontrolled,” or “running wild.” Does that sound familiar? Every home has had at least a few days when “unrestrained” would be a nice way to describe the atmosphere there. When a family has a definite vision in place for how they should look and what their goals are, those days are not as frequent and are more manageable when they do occur.
God’s vision for your home is not only a general idea about how you conduct yourselves. Your family vision also will allow each person under your roof to begin to blossom. It provides fertile ground where each individual can discover his unique talents and abilities. It brings into focus a picture of what each person has to offer to others there, and creates a lab where they can refine those gifts in order to touch their entire world.
Discover God’s vision for your family! Work together to make it a reality. Be determined to establish it in the lives of each individual and the entire household. And, then, watch God bring order and purpose there.
* “job,” in the musician’s lexicon; a shout-out to all my musician friends
“I don’t care what you do as long as you keep the kids quiet so I can watch the game.”
That sentiment will be ringing out in homes throughout the country as men everywhere settle in at 5:18 CST Sunday for the kickoff of Super Bowl XLII. Okay, I realize it’s not the most wholesome attitude for any dad who figures to be in the running for Father Of The Year, but, I must admit that I used to occasionally fall into that trap. Come on, now, and be honest. All the rest of you have, too.
So, if we hope to remain beloved to our children, highly esteemed by our wife, and still savor every snap of the football game of the year, what plan should we enact to get the job done? I have some experience in this arena, so as I present my life story, sit back and learn, Grasshopper.
I love sports. Actually, I’m passionate about sports. I have been since my earliest memories as a child, probably because my Dad loved sports so much. When we were blessed with kids in our home, I had two options. I could draw the battle lines and forever be challenged by the inevitable interruptions as I tried to revel in the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. Or, I could share my passion with my kids. I chose the latter, and, thankfully, it paid off.
Annie was born September 21, 1980, at the Methodist Hospital in San Antonio, which happened to overlook the Oak Hills Country Club, site of the Texas Open. Was it mere coincidence that labor and delivery had a large picture widow that gave a perfect view of the 18th hole? I think not. Annie’s first introduction to this world was a large gallery cheering Lee Trevino on to the championship.
The first gift I purchased for my daughter was a tiny pair of Houston Oilers’ pajamas, and her first Sunday afternoons were spent propped on a pillow in front of the TV in those pajamas as we watched Earl Campbell, Kenny “Snake” Stabler, and Billy “White Shoes” Johnson, march into the NFL playoffs. I didn’t think it could get any better, but then I had a son.
Matt’s bedtime stories were actually about a fictional sports hero I made up who was somewhat of a blend of Jim Thorpe, Superman, and Billy Graham. He always said and did the right things, played all sports and won almost every game in some spectacular fashion. And, he loved Jesus! It must have made some kind of impact, because, in his athletic career, I do believe Matt tried every sport that was out there.
I tried to make the games I was interested in become events for the kids. If the Spurs were in the playoffs, and I wanted to be sure to see the game on television, all of us would plan a family party complete with decorations and arena food. We went to as many games in person as we could, and did all the things that would make it memorable for Annie and Matt.
I got to live out one of my dreams when I worked for a professional football team back in the days of the United States Football League, when football was fun. I should thank our team's head coach, Jim Bates, for making pro football a family affair, encouraging coaches, players and staff to include their families whenever possible. So I took Martha and the kids to work with me as often as I could. Annie will tell you about her memories of running around the track at Alamo Stadium with Jim's son, Jeremy, who is now the quarterbacks coach for the Denver Broncos. Players passed Matt around like he was the football. And Jim entertained the kids with his dead-on Donald Duck imitation.
I can’t tell you how it thrilled me as my kids grew to love sports, too. The memories that we’ve been able to share together are the dividends of the time that I spent passing my passion on...
...In eighth grade, Annie took the skills from our driveway basketball games and, out of the blue, told me, “I think I’m going to try out for the team.” So she laid aside her passion, drama, and worked harder than I’d ever seen her work to make the basketball team. She did it, and even ended up her one-year career as a starter.
...Most people who casually know Annie would be shocked to find out that she’s been an official game statistician at courtside and in the dugout. She’s such a lady that they can’t believe she has that jock side to her.
...I was thrilled when she called me from college to tell me that, as the yearbook sports editor, she had received the top award among all the colleges in Oklahoma.
...Nobody ever worked harder as an athlete than Matt did. He never turned down a challenge. Undersized as a lineman on one of the top high school football programs in the state of Texas, he not only succeeded, he was the team captain.
...He led his school’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes in things that were more important than the game itself. Those guys have gone on to win Olympic gold medals, play in the NFL and play professional baseball, but they still look to Matt for counsel and leadership.
...I can always count on getting a phone call from him when there’s a game on TV that we’ll both be watching.
...Annie and Robbie’s phone call from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ game one Monday night, just to make sure I’d look for them on TV
...Annie, the middle school drama teacher, telling me, “I actually think I could coach a middle school football team.”
...Matt coaching football clinics in California
...the memories go an and on.
Whether it’s sports, music, cars, or your faith, share your passion with your kids. It just might become their passion, too.
Your mom was right. Always say “please” and “thank you” – especially “thank you.” And, whether she realized it or not though, that seemingly insignificant act of saying “thank you” has far more impact than simply socially acceptable behavior.
We’re one week into a new year and it’s a great time to establish something in our homes that will sincerely affect the lives of every member our family. Thankfulness doesn’t just happen. It’s a choice we make and an attitude we cultivate, just like its opposite, ungratefulness. Then, as we make thankfulness a habit in our homes, it becomes not just a conditioned reflex, but a condition of the heart. Thankfulness prepares the way for worship. It causes unity to blossom. It yields peace and encourages fruitfulness. It forges courage and confidence and builds hope.
Here’s an idea you might want to initiate in your home. It works whether there’s one or one hundred and it just might change the whole atmosphere in your house. Post-it notes are a staple item at home and in the office. They come in all sizes and colors, and there’s just something about seeing them that just calls for action!
For this purpose, the small size post-it works just fine, and you should provide plenty of them for each family member in their own special color. Just write on each note one thing that you’re thankful for, and stick it on the refrigerator, the wall, the door or anywhere else that it’s sure to be seen. Don’t worry, they don’t harm the paint! And, don’t stop there. Keep being thankful and keep posting notes. Be thankful for people, for things, and for situations. Encourage everybody to participate, and if somebody seems a bit reluctant, start covering their bedroom door or walls with notes about why you’re thankful for them. It’s almost a sure thing that they’ll feel the need to join in. After about three or four days, collect them in an envelope and save them for a later time when everybody can sit down together and remember everything you were thankful for.
Here’s a twist that your family will enjoy. Select one family member as a special target. Take about 30 minutes and have everybody cover that person with post-its about why they’re thankful for them.
Sometimes it’s the simple things that make the biggest changes! May God bless your home with thankfulness in 2008!
Martha & Greg
It’s a wild, wild ride from Thanksgiving to Christmas, with so much to decorate, to buy, to wrap, to mail, to cook...and work, too! But tonight, those precious moments in firelight and candlelight round the Christmas tree, and tomorrow, when family and friends gather, will make it all worth it.
It’s all too easy for me, as the daughter of the original June Cleaver, to lose myself in recipes and shopping lists and details of the season, and sail right past the time to quiet my heart and think about what really happened to my life because of that baby born so long ago, His life already marked by the shadow of a cross, one that was meant for me.
I found that moment this morning, and thought I would share my thoughts with you. My prayer for us all today is that, once again, our hearts will be touched with the wonder of Emmanel, God With Us!
Martha
My computer screen glows
With instant information from
The other side of the world
While outside, bright against a black velvet sky
Stars sparkle, high and cold
A vague memory of the great star
That shown among them
That one night
Electric lights, at least 3,000
Creatively strung along tree and roof
Burn bravely
Our little attempt to recreate
Glory
That flooded a hillside
That one night
Muzak backgrounds
Of trumpets, harps and strings
Accompany shoppers thronging the malls
And sometimes
The whispering echo of ancient angels’ song stirs our hearts
For one brief moment with
Joy
That filled the earth
That one night
Now, we stop our schedules
And on this one night
Gather loved ones gladly
Round this lighted tree
And, looking back,
We welcome you
Sweet infant King
Knowing as wise men and shepherds could not know
The peace
The joy
The freedom
The redemption
That were born
With You
That one night
Yep, it’s true. I’m going to be somebody’s grandpa. It really seems difficult to believe until I’m standing in front of the mirror to shave in the mornings. And then I realize I guess I really am old enough after all. 
