Showing posts with label Children. Show all posts

Like many families, when we put our four year olds to bed at night we sing.  Each of the "Short Louds" picks a song and Mommy and Daddy pick a song.  This is just before prayers and then we always sing "AB-Baa-Baa-Twinkle" (the three songs) after they are tucked in bed.  We have a pretty standard repertoire at bedtime.  Among the songs Julie and I sing are "A, You're Adorable," "O Susannah," "Sweet Baby James," "Stand By Me," "The Ants Go Marching," "Baby Beluga," "Sanctuary," "We Will Rock You," "Rubber Ducky," "Pass it On," "Standing on the Corner" and many more.

Abigail likes to make up her own songs quite frequently.  They tend to go on for some time and we eventually have to tell her to "wrap it up."  The topic is most often Princes and Princesses but she's been branching out as of late with songs that sort of list animals or other things.

Well, the night before last she sang for us a song about places.  It was quite stunning and had a remarkable finish.  It's been over a day since I heard it, but, if I remember it correctly, the "Cliff Notes Version" would go something like this.

Girdwood is a place.  It's where I live and where my house is.
Alaska is a place.  It's very big.
Indiana is a place.  That's where I visit my grandparents.
Hawaii is a place, too.
Mexico is another place.  It's very beautiful.
California is also a place.
(Mommy, is California a place?  I thought it was)

Anyway, we were pretty impressed by the number of places she at least knew about, having either been there or hearing her friends or her siblings talk about them.  This went on for a little while, with several repeats.  We had to tell her to "wrap it up."

That's when she got very quiet and serious in her song.

There are so many wonderful places in the world.There are so many places.

Quieter.

But my favorite place...My favorite place...But my favorite place...My favorite place in the whole wide world...My favorite place is...

Pause.

Quieter...

China.

Then loudly.

NI HAO KAI-LAN

This was HILARIOUS.  Never in a million years would we have guessed that Abigail's favorite place, after such a build-up, was going to be China.

So, what's your favorite place?

The characters are arriving over the course of Advent, with new ones coming in at each children's time.  What's cool is how the kids like to go and lay down in front of the altar to look at the characters after the worship service.

Have a most blessed First Sunday of Advent as we begin looking forward to the One who will save us from our sins...Jesus.

This past Sunday our focus was on World Communion Sunday.  I know most churches do this back in October.  But we had stuff going on.  Now's when it fit our schedule between sermon series.  And, regardless of the timing, it was a day to remember what communion means for our little church and for the Body of Christ around the world.

This is about uniting Christians.  This is about keeping the memorial feast of Christ.  This is about being fed and feeding the world.  This is about community.  It's about communion.  We are made for it.

Well, the sermon was done.

The confession was done.

We had taken up the offering.

And now we were into communion.

I've said, this is the high point of my Sunday.  I love it.  I love presiding.  I love serving.  I love partaking.  I love being at Holy Communion.  And, in particular, I love the way we do it at Girdwood Chapel, where everyone's welcome...especially the kids.

Well, on Sunday one little girl decided to come up on her own.  She's only about one and one-half years old. She didn't want to wait for her mom for the bread and so she walked on down the aisle, following dutifully after some of the other kids.  I leaned down and handed her a piece of bread and said, "This is the body of Christ, broken for you."

Now, this is where the story ends for most 2-year-olds.  We try to have real good bread during communion and most kids of that age just like to have the bread and go.  And that's fine with me.  I think it's wonderful. I think it's holy.  What's funny is that the little one stared at me as I was ready to move on to the next person in line.  She stared at me with a look that said, "There's more."

She wasn't "done" with communion until she dipped the bread in the juice.  After that, she was content to go back and sit with mom.

What's so great about this story is that it shows how the practice of Holy Communion shapes us.  There's memory associated with it.  There's a ritual that even a little girl who's not even two years old can pick up and learn and participate with the grown-ups.

I know that there are many denominations where a "closed" communion is practiced and the thought of having kids this young come up would be completely foreign.  But for us, this fits right in with who we are.  And, my prayer is that, as this little one grows up, it will fit right in with who she becomes.  I pray that, wherever she finds herself twenty years down the road, she'll see bread and cup lifted up and know that it's God free gift of salvation for her.

Oh, to be four years old again. 

This was a conversation I had with Bethany this morning as I was attempting to get her and her twin sister out of the house.  At the time, Abigail, as usual, was tormenting Bethany.

Bethany:  Daddy, Abigail called me a BOOGERPANTS!

Me:  Are you a boogerpants?

Bethany: No!

Me:  Do you, right now, have any boogers on your pants?

Bethany:  No!

Me:  Then, you're not a boogerpants.  Now please go brush your teeth.

Isn't interesting that, from a very early age, we're inclined to define ourselves by how others see us. "Boogerpants" might be a somewhat extreme example.

How many overweight kids see themselves primarily as "the fat kid" because that's what others call them?

How many girls live into the role of being "easy" because they get called names like "slut" or "whore?"

How many boys become the class bully because they're trying to live up to some ideal of "tough" or "manly" that's been set by others?

How many kids can't quite seem to shake the "nerd" or "geek" label that's been thrust upon them?

How many adults try to be "Supermom" or "Superdad" and spend all their time and energy trying to fake being a "Super Family" when everything's falling apart?

All along, we're only seeing ourselves as others see us, somehow forgetting to see ourselves as God sees us, as beloved children of God...

"BOOGERPANTS!" no more.

I found the words below over at Ann Voskamp's beautiful site.

Those who frequent this site know that Tuesdays are "Daddy Days" at our home.  When our little twins started daycare my wife only worked in the school library in the mornings.  Afternoons were free.  So, we put our little ones in daycare on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.  I stayed home with them on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  When my wife went to full-time, I found it difficult to spend two days in the middle of the week as the primary child-care provider.  I kept getting to Fridays, realizing that I had far too much left to do as the weekend rolled around.  I was stressed.

So, we went to Tuesdays being our day together.  They are "Daddy Days."

As I spend my Tuesday with my little ones, helping them master the technology of the iPad, sharing coffee shop experiences, having picnics on the floor, going on adventures, I hope I'm helping them grow to be the persons God intends for them to be.

The family is for growing.

Family is a field to grow in. Where children grow up and parents grow patient.

Where mothers grow in maturity and fathers grow in forgiveness, where sons grow in self-control and daughters in discernment and this is what He means — For us to stretch and dig down and reach out and for family to grow us full in the faith....

There’s only a harvest in the kingdom when someone attends to the the smallness of a seed.

How can I attend to the smallness in my midst, looking for the harvest down the road?

Today my older twin girls turn 14.  They came into the world a little early and after a rough month or so with pre-term labor issues.  I was down in Kenai, Alaska.  Julie was up in Anchorage to be near the hospital there.  It was a long month during which I tried to pastor the United Methodist Church of the New Covenant a few days a week and then travel with our two year-old son up to Anchorage to be with my expectant wife.   One of those Sundays I had a weary, beaten look to my face and one of our members cam up to me after worship and asked, "You're not OK, are you?"  And I responded, "No, I'm not OK."

So it was a great relief that, as the due date got closer, we could bring "mom" back down to Kenai where we were just about 20 minutes from the Soldotna hospital.

The whole "twin" birth thing was an experience at the time.  Since we've now had a second set of twins it seems like old hat.  But it was pretty intimidating at the time.

And on September 29th, 1997 Moriah Grace and Susannah McIntyre were born.  It's been a wild 14 years.

I don't think I'm a particularly "manly man."  I've never been one to shy away from buying feminine hygiene products at the supermarket or searching from store to store for the proper shampoo and conditioner.  I'm pretty approachable when it comes to issues of "liking boys" or dealing with teenage girl meanness that can come through relationships at school.  There are few issues that are "just for mom."  After all, I'm their father and not some random guy in their life.  I want to be involved.

Fathering these girls has been a blessing and a challenge...sometimes at the same time.  From the pretty dresses for Sundays to the baseball uniforms.  From their eagerness to spend time with their dad to their eye-rolling at the suggestion of a bike ride together.  From their desires to follow along with the crowd and fit in to the ways they march to the beat of their own drums.  From the fact that they've always had someone around to play with to the fact that this playmate of theirs also became someone to fight with.  From room sharing and clothes sharing and friend sharing and homework sharing to the their sense of ownership over the items that uniquely belong to them.  From their learning how to walk to their learning how to ride a bike to their, soon, learning how to drive.

Through it all, I've tried to be the best dad I've known how.  And, yes, sometimes I've recognized that there were some "girl" issues that were really best for mom to deal with.  And, yes, I have said some things that have been completely unhelpful and it must have been amusing to watch me flounder under the pressure of being a parent at times.  But, I have loved these 14 years with my two older girls.  I hope I've been a cool, fun father for them.

I'm thankful that we have a son.  As a guy there's something about having a son.

But Moriah and Susannah have shown me that I can be a father to girls as well...even twin girls.

That's a good thing since, in just 10 years we'll have another set of 14 year-old girls in the house.

And now WITH SPRINKLES -- on the donuts and their steamers. WOW! What a treat!

The most stressful part of my day, without question, is that half-hour to an hour when I'm trying to get twin 4 year old girls out of the house in the morning.  Really, without question.  It is a difficult time filled with battles of wills over dresses and teeth brushing and hair brushing.  It is a time spent looking for matching shoes and missing coats.  It is a time filled with whining and screaming.

And, no, it's not usually both girls giving fits at the same time.  Thankfully, they usually take turns and when one's in "a mood" the other tries to be "little miss perfect", or at least "little miss not-so-bad."  Today it was Bethany's turn to be a handful.  It really comes down to the dress she wanted to wear to daycare and how I tried to get it on her in such a way that it covered all of her that needed to be covered.  And she didn't like it.  And she was mad.  And then she wouldn't let me brush her hair.  And then she dragged her feet getting to the car.  And then when we were finally in the car she was upset that Abigail made it so she couldn't button her seatbelt.  And then...  And then...  And then...

Well...

By the time I got them to daycare at 8:42 AM I felt as if I'd put in a full day of parenting.  I made my way to the coffee shop...for medicinal purposes, of course...and sat sipping a latte and enjoying a some time away from the little ones...thankful that we have a daycare option and that I would soon go home to a house with no children in it for the remainder of the day.

That said, I need to remember some things about this time in our collective lives.  And, no, I don't need to remember the whining and the battle of wills.  They might be hard to forget, but that's not what I need to remember.

I need to remember that my little girls like nothing better than dressing up, even going to daycare.  They love "spinny" dresses.  They love having their toenails painted and glitter on.  And they want to get their hair just right.  And, when it finally happens, it's adorable.  I need to remember this.

I need to remember that their desire to do things on their own is a good thing.  There are growing up. They are coming into their own.  They are getting their personalities.  They are testing the boundaries of independence.  There will come a time that I will want them to be very independent.  I need to remember this.

I need to remember the "blue doggy" that Bethany takes with her every day to Little Bears and sleeps with at night.  Also, I need to remember Abigai's "green blankie."  Both of these items have been loved and loved and loved and loved.  We live in a throwaway culture but here are two little girls who will hold on to that which is most dear to them.  I need to remember this.  Perhaps I can learn from it.

I need to remember all the opportunities for playing and games that these two girls find all the time.  Sometimes it's when we're eating dinner and we really wish they'd eat.  Sometimes it's when we're going to bed at night when we really wish they'd start getting ready.  And, it happens all the time when I'm trying to rush them out of the house but they've found something else to get their attention, a toy to play with, a doll that needs dressing up.  Too many people have lost the ability to play like little children.  I need to remember this.

And I need to remember, as I sit in the coffee shop, enjoying my latte in some peace and quiet, that there will come a day where it will be very peaceful and very quiet in our home.  And, when that day comes, I'll look back on the sound of children playing and fighting and running around and squealing and miss it.  I need to remember this.

So, today I'm trying to remember.

Perhaps it will help if I write it down here.

This is sad. 

This is very sad.

Yesterday, on, of course, the Tenth Anniversary of 9/11, I was driving my teenage daughters and a friend around Girdwood as they participated in a "Photo Scavenger Hunt" for our youth group meeting.

As we're driving, one of them says,

"Why was six afraid of seven?"

Well, this is a joke.  It's a silly joke.  The correct answer, as I and everyone else knows, is

"Because seven ate nine?"

And then there's supposed to be a goofy kind of laughter that follows such a goofy kind of joke.

However, that's not the answer that was given.

The teen who told the joke said,

"Why was six afraid of seven?...  BECAUSE SEVEN WAS A TERRORIST!"

And they laughed.

I didn't laugh.

While they were just being "teenagers" and acting up for each other, it made me sad that terrorism would become the punch line to a joke.  I'm sure I'm reading more into this than needs to be there.  One can do that with teens quite easily.

But it still made me sad.

Sure, she looks real innocent in the picture above.  Pretty dress.  Wonderful smile.  Playful pose.  One would never guess from the above picture that Abigail is our "different" child.  By "different" I mean that she's willful.  She's different than our other four kids in that she can be defiant and manipulative in ways that the others just haven't been.  And with four other kids we think we've had some experience.

A week or so ago I took "The Short Louds" -- Abigail and her twin sister Bethany -- to a coffee shop on one of our Daddy Days.  Honestly, it was their choice.  I had offered a bicycle ride but was overruled.  So we walked on down.  We ate and drank and they played.  We checked mail.  And we walked on back.  This was a pretty long walk for the two of them but they could handle it.  Bethany complained about the walk but she bounced along beside me.  Abigail didn't bounce.  Abigail dragged behind, whining, moaning and generally being disagreeable.  There was a lot of yelling.

I could tell, as she dragged her feet and kept falling farther and farther behind, that SHE KNEW I wouldn't leave her behind.  And, SHE KNEW that by dragging her feet and fading and complaining she was getting on my nerves and she was getting her way.

Abigail's a smart four year-old.  She, already, is a master at manipulation.  She's always been the kind of kid that was very sure where the boundaries were.  And she was always very intentional about testing those boundaries...whether it's "stay in bed" or "don't hit your sister" or "no you can't have a chocolate."

Look, she's not a horrible child.  She can be so generous at times.  She can be bubbly.  She loves to snuggle with me.  She can be driven and competitive.  She's her own girl.

This comes through in the clothes she puts on (even though we've said it's too cold for shorts) to being very sure she doesn't want to eat the mashed potatoes or whatever it is on her plate.  She marches to the beat of her own drum and getting her to march to ours can be a struggle.  Even tonight as we got the young ones ready for bed and she always seemed to have one more thing to do...anything to delay the process...we were left with nothing left in our "bag of tricks."

She certainly makes life interesting.

But as I walked home from the coffee shop last week, Abigail whining and moaning behind me, I just shook my head.  Actually, I shook my head...and laughed.  I love that little girl so much but she is so good at making it difficult on Julie and me.  She's a conundrum.  And she's all ours.  We'd do anything for her.  But, boy, she makes parenting challenging.

This made me wonder if God, when faced with our willfulness, out of a mixture of love and frustration, just shakes his head.  Maybe he laughs a little as well.  He loves us so much...so much that he sent his son to die on our behalf.  He'd do anything for us.  And yet we disobey.  We test the boundaries.  We cross over them.  We drag our feet.  And we're all his.

May I live in such a way today that I don't give God any reason to shake his head at me today. And if he does...I hope he laughs a bit, too.

There's a lot I can learn from my 4 year olds.   One thing I can learn is how to splash in rain puddles, how to have pure joy on a rainy day, how to laugh and have fun.  And, as a Christian, I can do all of this while loving and serving my God.

There was a community meeting Monday afternoon, called "The Mayor's Meeting" since it had the mayor's staff from Anchorage at it.  Ironically...no mayor.

On the agenda was our town daycare where there are serious structural issues and it has been declared unsafe for the snow load we normally get...even though, the historical evidence is that it can hold a bunch of snow...including the 10 foot load 10 years ago.

I have two kids in the daycare, "The Short Louds," (my 4 year old twins).  And, 10 years ago, we had our two older twin girls in the daycare as well.  So, we've gotten a lot of use from it.  We're pretty passionate about it.  My wife and I were at the meeting.

Well, the meeting progressed with lots of complaints...who's at fault...is this "big government" coming down us.  There were, of course, good comments thrown in.  The long and short of it was this:

1. The Municipality of Anchorage owns the old building the daycare uses and has been providing maintenance.
2. The Muni now has an engineering report that says the building is unsafe for the snow and they can't, in good conscience (or without a fear of a massive lawsuit should a collapse happen) let the building be used.
3. There are three possible solutions that seemed doable and would keep the daycare functioning:  1) Use another community building -- which would eliminate its use by other groups, 2) Fix the roof -- which sounds great but can in no way be done this year, or 3) Have a licensed and bonded business contract with The Muni and the Daycare to clear the roof of any snow, absolving the Muni and the Daycare of liability if "something" were to happen.
4. THE SNOW IS COMING WITHIN SIX WEEKS OR SO!!!

This doesn't give us a lot of time and, frankly, the blame-game wasn't helping and wonderful ideas that were going to take years to materialize weren't helping either.  I got up to speak and began with Whitney Houston's "The Greatest Love of All."  I didn't sing it...but I should have.



Oh...shortly after my impassioned speech, it was decided that they'd go the contract route and the daycare would not have a gap in service.

And...really..."I believe that children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way..."

It was lunchtime on "Daddy Day" at our house.  Every Tuesday is "Daddy Day" for our four year old twins.  They go to the local daycare four days each week.  But Tuesday is their day to stay home with me.  It used to be Tuesdays and Thursdays when they were younger, but I found I needed more time to get work accomplished.  So, we added Thursdays to the daycare mix and Tuesdays became my day with the young girls.  Sometimes we go on bike rides.  Sometimes we go on trips.  Sometimes we watch movies.  Yesterday, the Daddy Day I'm referring to, we went on a long walk to a coffee shop (it was their decision...really!).

When we got back home, around 1:30 PM, I made them grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

I want to say a special word about these grilled cheese sandwiches.  I understand that it's not too difficult to put some slices of cheese between two slices of buttered bread and grill them.  I'm not making myself out to be Julia Childs here.  But, these were WONDERFUL grilled cheese sandwiches.  I mixed small pieces cojack and provolone for the insides to load them up with goodness.  And I grilled these to perfection.  They weren't burnt or uneven and the cheese was wonderfully melted inside.  These were GREAT grilled cheese sandwiches.

So, I served them up alongside some apple slices and cherry tomatoes.  Voila!  Lunch is served.

But, neither of them had more than a little nibble of those beautiful sandwiches.  They "didn't taste the same."  The girls said they "weren't hungry."  And so they just sat on their plates...rejected...

I was having something different for lunch so these awesome sandwiches were just going to go to waste, thoroughly unappreciated by the ones they were made for.  Perhaps a couple of wasted sandwiches wouldn't bother me so much (yeah, yeah, I know...starving children in other parts of the world and all) but there's a lot of food I make in this household that goes totally unappreciated by others.  I like to cook--beyond grilled cheese.  And some of the foods I like have a lot of flavor or are things I've never tried before and I'm pretty used to my kids thumbing their noses at the dinners I make.  Very rarely does Daddy try something new and exciting for dinner only to be met with a teenager's eye-roll and and a disappointed, "WHAT is THAT?"  (They don't know what they're missing.)

The grilled cheese sandwiches were just one more bit of evidence of the lack of gratitude my kids show for what I'm able to provide for them.  And, as I've said several times so far, these were AWESOME GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICHES.  They were works of art.

Well, after lunch I was able to get out for a small bike ride myself.  Along the way I was thinking about all of the AWESOME, WONDERFUL, GREAT creations God puts before us that go unnoticed and unappreciated.  Here we live in one of the most beautiful places on earth and people pass by, they go up and down roads, they camp or hunt or fish, and hardly offer any thanks, any word of gratitude for what God provides.  It made me think, while pedaling, about all the many things in my life, all of the blessings I have been given, which I take for granted, and which never move me to praise my Maker and give thanks to the Creator.   God has blessed us with grilled cheese, but he has certainly blessed us with so very much more.  And do we merely thumb our noses?

As this was all swimming around in my mind I rode along Alyeska Highway, headed back home.  I could see clouds rolling in and I wondered if it was going to rain later (it did).  My legs were tired.  I was feeling good.  And then I saw it...a brilliant rainbow in the sky.  Thank you God, for a wonderful, beautiful rainbow.  I pedaled harder, hoping to snap a picture with my old cell phone before the rainbow disappeared...and then I lost sight of it.  Oh well.  It was still a great gift to see it and be reminded of all the many gifts God has given me:  life, family, health, bike, home, a wonderful church, grilled cheese.

But, as I crossed Glacier Creek, there it was again.  I took a picture (yeah, the one at the top of the post) and thought I'd share it with all of you as a reminder to offer God some gratitude today.

What are you thankful for?

What do you take for granted even though God blesses you with it on a daily basis?

Do you thank God for your grilled cheese and rainbows?

I shared one of my favorite children's stories Sunday at church.  I changed what I was originally going to do because I got distracted by a squirrel climbing on on one of our outdoor beams.  So, I told this story instead.

A pastor was leading a worship service talking about "God the Creator" and he wanted to help the kids appreciate some of the animals in the world around them and talk about how God created them.  He started off this way:

"I'm going to see if you can guess what it is I'm thinking of.  This is an animal that is sometimes brown and sometimes gray.  In many parts of the US it has a bushy tail....."

No hands go up.  The kids stare blankly.

"Well, this thing I'm thinking of likes to climb trees and bird feeders and, sometimes, even homes and churches..."

Nothing from the kids.

"This creature likes to collect nuts and store them away for the winter...."

There was a long pause.

Finally, a little girl raises her hand.

"Yes, Mary," says the Pastor.  "What is it I'm describing here?

"Well," says Mary, "I'm pretty sure you're talking about a squirrel, but I know you want me to say "Jesus."

Or, I came across this funny Facebook dialogue which talks about Jesus:


How often do we, as Pastors or Christians over-spiritualize events or conversations, making them be about Jesus when really they don't need to be...or may be about something else entirely?

How often do we try to make great theological lessons out of the mundane...only because we feel we need to do it?  Or because we're trying VERY hard to evangelize?

I know as a pastor I can jump to the gun and look for opportunities to bring Jesus into a situation that, really, is out of place.  I'm sure that I have a tendency to pontificate and get "all religious" when dealing with folks. It's partly an occupational problem.

What do you think?  Do you over-spiritualize?

I've been the parent who bathes our young children.  It started 16 years ago with our son.  The theory was that my wife got "bonding time" when the kids needed to be fed---I could handle bonding with them as they had a bath.  And it's a job I've enjoyed--particularly since a lot of it involves playing with children's bath toys.

My youngest twins are getting older now.  They're FOUR already.  And my role at bath time now is mostly washing their hair and making sure they play nice in the tub.  But, it's still my job.  And I don't mind it at all.  After all, there are still children's toys to be played with and squirted and thrown around and bubbles to be made.

Well, last week on one of our bath nights we had a little problem.  The "problem" wasn't how they were playing with each other or the water temperature or soap in the eyes.  The "problem" was that Bethany's "duckie scrubby" started to unravel.  Bethany has the duck.  Abigail has the frog.  They've had them for a while.  But when Bethany started to use her ducky, it just started falling apart.  You can see in the picture to the right that it started coming undone.  And, since the scrubby started falling apart, Bethany started falling apart.  She became rather upset.  She was, I assume, pretty attached to it and it was clear that it wasn't going to last long.   She cried...and cried...and cried ...............  and cried.

I got her out of the tub when she was all clean and wrapped the towel around her.  She said she wanted to go on downstairs and tell Mommy about the duck. But, being the fabulous father that I am, I wanted to comfort her a little.  So I gave her a big hug and held her.

I'm not trying to make myself out to be Super Dad around here.  Anyone who really knows me can tell that's not the case.  But my littlest little girl was upset and I wanted to comfort her.  I really was sorry that she was so sad.  So I held on.  I was her caregiver.  She needed my care.

Or...did she?

After just a couple of seconds of my fatherly embrace, Bethany said, more curtly than I would have cared to hear, "Enough."  It was short and to the point.  She didn't want the care I was giving her.  She wanted to head on down to Mommy.  Perhaps the need for a little love from dad wasn't needed.  At least it wasn't wanted.

I laughed at the comment from my four year-old.  She really had no need for what I was offering at that moment, no matter how much I thought she did.

"Enough!"

Sometimes in the local church I can fall into a "Super Pastor" mode where I'm pretty sure that there are people out there who need my care.  Perhaps I think they need me at their side at the hospital.  Perhaps I'm sure they need me to step in and heal their marriage.  Maybe I'm convinced they need words of wisdom and comfort over the death of a loved one.  Sometimes I'm sure I see problems which cry out for pastoral attention.  They need a some pastoring.

But sometimes they don't NEED my care.  Sometimes they don't WANT it.  Sometimes (God forbid!) they are getting the care they need somewhere else.

It can be tough to hear the folks you feel called to lead and love and care for tell you "Enough" -- either with their words or their body language or by not reaching out to you when you are pretty sure they should be doing so.

Part of maturity as a pastor is discerning when those times are when they're saying "Enough!"  While it's great to be needed.  It's good to know when you're not.