Re-Encountering God Using Greene’s Notion of Plan B

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by Shawn Tucker:

I just finished Ross Greene’s fabulous book The Explosive Child. An “explosive” child, according to Greene, is one who is often seen as attention-seeking, manipulative, disrespectful, and as displaying other behaviors that adults and even other children find challenging. Yet Greene puts forward some amazing ideas, including the notions that all kids do well if they can and that the vast majority of challenging behaviors occur because kids lack the skills needed to respond successfully to certain frustrating situations. In that respect, no kids are “evil;” they merely display their lagging skills in their poor responses to various situations.

In addition to the fundamental idea that all kids do well if they can or if they have the necessary skills, Greene describes three approaches or “plans” that adults employ for dealing with challenging behaviors. Plan A is where the adults set, or better put, impose behavioral norms on kids and demand compliance. This approach actually works with children who possess the skills necessary to meet those imposed standards. Plan B is when an adult genuinely listens to a child and then equally genuinely invites the child to collaborate with the adult on solving problems that they both recognize. Working as partners, the adult and child develop practical, realistic solutions that satisfy both parties. Plan C is when adults judiciously and temporarily set aside some challenging behaviors in order to focus efforts on challenges that have a higher priority.

This is the most general overview of Greene’s insights, yet while I encourage those interested to read this book, this should be a sufficient summary to explore some insights about God that Greene’s work might reveal. Greene does not talk about God at all in this book, but what if one’s relationship with one’s parents impacted one’s view of God? What if, for instance, you lived in a home where parents used Plan A exclusively or almost exclusively? You may grow up to see God as Someone who imposes upon humans norms and standards and then demands compliance. The righteous are those who have the skills to meet those demands, while the wicked cannot.

Advice For My 16 Year-Old Son About Stepping Up His Game w/Girls

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by Shawn Tucker:

The only thing more awkward than this post about helping my son learn how to be confident talking with girls is the fact that I discussed these ideas with him recently when he was trapped in the car with me. It is interesting to watch your child consider the implications of throwing himself out of a car going 65 miles per hour on a freeway. Luckily he chose to smile, nod, and think of something else while I gave him a version of the following advice. And now I’d like to spread the awkwardness around the interwebs. Here’s my advice to a 16-year-old modern Mormon young man on how to step up his game with girls:

1. Be 16. What this means is be patient with yourself and allow yourself to grow into being someone who is confident with women. Frankly, 16-year-old girls are like 16-year-old boys, and, yes I will say it, most girls are just as awkward around boys as you are around them. And hey, you like them, so…

2. Keep in mind one goal: helping her feel at ease, safe, comfortable, and getting to know her. When you are getting to know a girl your age, keep in mind that your goal is to get to know her. Do what you can to actually listen to her. Care enough about what she’s saying to hear it and to perhaps even show her you’re listening by remembering what she says and say it back to her. You can go a long way by later on saying something like, “I remember when you told me that you quit playing soccer because you had such a bad coach—that must have really sucked for you!” Saying things like this show you care enough to listen and think about what she has told you, but keep in mind to be genuine about this, since the goal is helping her feel safe and at ease.

My Kids Are Strangers

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by Eliana:

“They’re such good travelers,” my husband and I tell people about our children.

“Owen just talks to his fingers in the car and looks out the window,” I say when asked about the 10 hour drive for a weekend trip.

“They read and color and then the last hour we let them use a device of some kind.”

All of these sentences are true. Most of the time in fact.

But on this trip, right now, they are lies. Bald-faced lies about children I have never met. The two kids living with me in this rental house in Chapala, Mexico, are terrible. They clearly have never left their homes before.

School Violence

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by Eliana:

We are a family of pacifists by any stretch of definition; my husband, 6’4” and 300 pounds, has never hit anyone in his life. I got in a fight in fourth or fifth grade when another girl called me an egghead. Otherwise, nothing. Our laid back, quiet family is such that our first son, Cole, spent his early years confused by kids who were aggressive on the playground. It was so outside his experience that he’d come back, flabbergasted, asking why a person would push him.

Cole’s in third grade at a school focused on science and engineering. It’s a public school but a specialized one. He loves it and I love that they are all a bunch of nerds running around together, oblivious to the fact that not everyone talks about computer coding while playing soccer.

A few days ago I got an email from Cole’s teacher. There had been an incident. The kids were standing in line to go to lunch when Girl behind my son started punching him in the back. In his version, “I told on her,” he cried, life went on. At the end of the day, Girl came over to apologize; Cole was sitting down, she stood above him, said sorry, then gently slapped his face.

Immediate thoughts as I read this email with several hours left in the school day: should I go get him and rescue him? Can this Girl be disappeared? Then, almost as quickly, have I done something to make my son a target?

Building Better Youth Discussions, Mini-Classes, Workshops, Etc.

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by Shawn Tucker:

In my calling in the Stake Young Men program, it seems like we are constantly trying to come up with ideas for mini-classes or workshops. Youth conferences typically have some sort of instructional time, class, or workshop, and many other stake activities also have them. This is in addition to firesides and Bishop’s youth discussions. Below is a list of principles I’ve developed that seem to make these successful. These principles are followed by a list of possible class or workshops topics. If you have more, please add them in the comments.

Principles:

• Youth generally prefer workshops and engaging activities to lectures. Of course a talented presenter can be excellent, but, taking a page from TED talks, I believe that no presentation should last more than 18 minutes.


• Youth generally appreciate genuinely open-ended workshops and discussion. Presenters or workshop directors with knowledge, skill, and confidence sufficient to make a workshop genuinely open-ended and truly engaging are often the most successful. Presentations which only have the appearance of being open-ended but which have leading, “fishing,” or manipulative questions should be avoided.


• Youth generally listen to other youth much more attentively than to adults. Panels that feature other youth or younger people, like recently returned missionaries or young single adults, can be very effective. Youth also seem to appreciate a variety of speakers.

Fathering Sam

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by MAB:

"Why do you want me to bleed daddy?"

This is what my then 5-year-old son said to me late one afternoon. For the third time I had told him to come inside to get ready for bed. When he didn't respond I grabbed the rusty old watering can he was playing with and headed inside, fuming about my paternal incompetency. Pausing at the back door, I realized that I didn't want to take the rusty old watering can in the house so without thinking I tossed it back toward the play area. As I did so, the handle broke and the can flew in a different direction striking my son's forehead. He started bleeding immediately and we were both shocked. When he noticed he was bleeding he asked me why I threw the can at his head and why I wanted him to bleed. I explained it was an accident but he was still very confused and in pain. I was crushed by his words and my actions. I couldn't get in touch with my wife, so I found a baby sitter for the other two kids and took him to the emergency room to get stitches, and to endure the questioning stares when he told the nurses and doctor that I threw a watering can at his head.

Almost a year later we were at a parade when a pirate ship came though firing off an extremely loud cannon. This scared my son so badly that he jumped in my lap and hugged me very tight for about five minutes as the spectacle inched past and out of range. I hug my children every day if I'm not away on a business trip but there was something different this time. I felt forgiven and I felt like he trusted me to protect him. I felt his trust in a way that I'd never felt before.

About two years later we are hosting my brother-in-law and his family as they visited our new home city of Amsterdam. It was the week before Christmas and we decided to visit the festive city center. There were hordes of people doing last minute shopping and enjoying the sights. About an hour into our adventure my sister-in-law noticed that our child count had dropped from 7 to 6 and we discovered my boy was missing. We quickly retraced our route but after 10 very long minutes of searching he was nowhere to be found. Fears entered my mind as we fanned out down crowded sides streets and alleys. At one point I imagined him alone sitting in some dark alcove crying for his family. As I passed each building my worries grew as various scenarios – none of them good – played out in my head. Then, in the crowd I saw two officers coming my direction and they had my son between them. I ran to him and picked him up without saying anything to the officers. I took him in my arms so I could make sure he was all right. I tried to ask him how he was doing but I was so emotional all I could muster was an inexplicable donkey bray that embarrassed my son.

What do these stories have in common other than my middle child? It's hard to describe but I think it has something to do with depth of emotion or perhaps emotional peaks and valleys you experience as a parent. You hear that parents love their children the same but I'm not sure that's true. I love them all tremendously and maybe the quantity is the same but the quality is different. And when I say quality I don't mean good vs. bad quality I mean the nature of the love seems different. With my middle child, at least for now there are lower lows and higher highs and although things have plateaued as of late I get the feeling that events are being foreshadowed and that fathering him will always be a roller coaster.

Please share similar stories or share your thoughts on mine.


MAB has fond and therefore suspect memories of living his pre-teen years in rural Central Utah with his five brothers and one sister. As a teenager he moved with part of his family to the suburbs of Salt Lake City then left for a mission to Honduras. After barely surviving that he went to college in Rapid City, SD then married an open minded Californian who helped put him through graduate school in Seattle. He currently resides in Amsterdam with his wife and three children and has a hard time figuring out if he'll ever leave the land of bikes, canals, tulips and clogs.
Image credit: Pierre Lognoul (used with permission).

Explaining Excommunication to a Four-Year-Old

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by Scott Heffernan:

Last night, my wife and I were watching the livestream of John Dehlin addressing the crowd after his disciplinary council. My precocious four-year-old son started to intentionally annoy us to get our attention:

Wife: Please stop. This is important news.

Four-year-old: Why?

Me: Because he's getting kicked out of the church.

Four-year-old: Does he need our help?

MMM Library: Calvin & Hobbes, Reflections

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by Seattle Jon:

The mornings have been colder lately, so I wasn't surprised when Seattle received its first heavy snow forecast of the season this past weekend (by Utah standards, nothing significant fell). I remember the first snowfall of last year. Not much had stuck, but the kids came home from church ready to have "snowball fights." When I wished them luck in gathering enough snow for even one snowball, Will said, "Well, maybe we'll just throw snowflakes at each other."

Snow and kids often turns my thoughts to Calvin & Hobbes (Calvin often created horrendous scenes with his snowmen). I grew up reading the comic strip in the Sunday paper and started buying the collection books when I noticed them turning up at our local Deseret Industries a few years ago. Today, most of the 18 published collections can be found in our cars, in our bathrooms, on our bookshelves or under our beds. Calvin & Hobbes is read so much, in fact, that the kids have developed several endearing C&H rituals.

On long car trips, the kids will turn down their favorite pages so they'll know where to start when they switch books with each other.

Help!--Staying Together for the Kids

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by Quietly Grieving in Zion:

My wife and I were married more than 20 years ago, and we have several children. One child is a returned missionary and another is currently serving. We have a teenager at home and one who will soon be a teenager.

My wife and I have a relationship that has steadily deteriorated for years. We really have no relationship any longer; we are not even friends. We don't talk or enjoy one another's company at all. We used to fight, but now we don't really care enough for that. We went to couple's therapy less than a year ago, but that ended poorly for me. Recent events have made it clear to me how unhappy I am with her. She was recently gone for about a week, and I could not believe how relieved and happy I felt to not have her in the same house. I also feel much more effective as a father when I'm not around her.

I want my children that are still at home to spend as much time as possible together and with her. I also want to be with them as much as possible. That leads me to desire that we stay together for the kids. Staying together would also be easier financially and socially. But I have found myself counting down the years until we can separate. I also have tremendous loneliness, anxiety, and grief over the death of a relationship that I thought would last forever. I believe it would be easier to grieve as well as move on if I could separate, but, of course, I'm afraid that that would be selfish.

I'm not expecting anyone to answer this for me. I pray about it all of the time. I'm considering seeking professional help to assist in determining whether I should stay for the kids or insist (against what I believe are my wife's wishes) that we separate. Many of you have experience with this that may be helpful. Please share. I anticipate the widest variety of responses; please leave your experience as a comment. Please provide your ideas in the most honest and loving way possible without worrying about how others might respond or how others' experiences may differ.

Thank you

Image credit: BK (used with permission).

Memories Getting Dim: I Guess Some Things Never Leave You

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by Jared Le Fevre:

I'm 40 years old and am starting to lose it in the memory department. Not in an early Alzheimer-y kind of way. More in the way of: I'm 40, work a lot, have five kids who never stop talking, and there is always someone who needs my time and my brain is too full to absorb/remember it all. Under those circumstances, who can remember everything that happened years ago?

Apparently some folks get disturbed that there are multiple accounts of the first vision, wherein Joseph Smith mentions some details and not others. The Church must have sensed the concern and felt the need to write an essay explaining it.

A Dream Deferred

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by Eliana:

You know that poem by Langston Hughes? Even if you don't do poetry, you've at least heard of the drama A Raisin in the Sun. I've always loved it, despite it being very foreign to my existence.

The options, according to the poem: a dream can dry up (like a grape becoming a raisin) or it can explode. I may be losing some of the linguistic beauty, but that's the Cliff Notes version.

I had a dream this year, the year my youngest child started kindergarten. My dream was to write a book. It has been simmering and floating around for a long time but I knew it would need more focus than I could manage with a small person around.

The Child Welfare System

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by Eliana:

I went to family court with a sister from my ward recently. She's working a plan to get her children out of foster care and back home with her on a full-time basis, after more than a year of only visits.

I was there to support, nothing more. And it was hard. It isn't a good situation for anyone involved. Waiting for our turn in the courtroom, we ran into another couple from our ward. They were having a hearing about the foster child they are in the process of adopting.

Our time in front of the judge was brief, mostly making sure that progress is being met, with check-ins from five or six institutional entities: case worker, guardian ad litem for the kids, attorney for mother, attorney for absent father, and more. It was exhausting to me even though I had no personal involvement in the issues.

Ten years ago my husband and I became licensed foster parents in Arizona after hours of classes, building a higher fence around our pool and numerous other small home changes, background checks, and letters from friends and relatives vouching for our sanity. We agreed to take a sibling group, up to three children, since they can be hard to place together. I quit my job.

Then … nothing happened. Our case manager essentially disappeared; no one would return our calls. We had a paper saying we were legit and legal but it didn't seem to matter. A few months later we got a call to do an emergency placement: little baby, just for a weekend, while her regular foster parents had to leave the state for a family event.

There was very little sleep on my part—baby was only eight weeks old—but otherwise our three days went very smoothly. When I had to give her back, meeting the foster folks in a Walmart parking lot, I knew she was safe and sound. 72 hours, maybe a little less. Still it was extremely hard to hand this baby over.

At that moment I realized that foster care was not going to work for us.

The Joy and Sadness of a Productive Summer

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by Shawn Tucker:

This past summer was particularly productive. I teach at a small, liberal arts University in North Carolina. Summer is the only time that I can do research, since teaching and other responsibilities take up most of my time during the rest of the year. And this summer was particularly productive. But there is something sad about why this summer was productive. Let me explain.

This summer I only have two of my four children at home. My oldest is serving as a missionary in Nevada, and my second child was off at BYU. I was home with my 15-year-old and my 11-year-old sons. We did some fun things together this summer including going to the pool, playing basketball, and seeing family. But only having half of my children at home, and having my remaining children a bit older, I found that I could get more of my academic work done. In fact this summer I completed the second half of a book manuscript. I was very happy to get that project done, but I learned something interesting in the process. Never before in my life could I have been as productive. It is not that I am smarter than before, it is just that I have fewer children at home. And when I got the book manuscript completed not only did I feel grateful to have it done, but I also felt grateful that I had never done so much previously. Every other summer I had spent more time with my children. I do not regret that at all, and as a matter fact I would prefer to be unproductive if it meant spending more time with my kids. If I would have completed a similar project in years past, it would have taken too much time from being with my children. To use this metaphor: I would have got to the top of my ladder only to realize that it had been leaning against the wrong wall.

And that is one of the nice lessons I have learned from being 45 years old and having older children. I do not regret that for most of my career I have been a father first and an employee second. I have done a good job at my job, but I have never let that job become my primary focus. So it is bittersweet now that I can spend more time and be more productive at my job precisely because my real job, my most satisfying job, requires somewhat less of my time.


Shawn Tucker grew up with amazing parents and five younger, wonderful siblings. He served as a missionary in Chile during the Plebiscite and the first post-dictatorship election. After his mission, he attended BYU, where he married ... you guessed it ... his wife. They both graduated, with Shawn earning a BA in Humanities. Fearing that his BA in Humanities, which is essentially a degree in Jeopardy, would not be sufficient, Shawn completed graduate work in the same ... stuff ... at Florida State University. He currently teaches at Elon University in North Carolina. He and ... you guessed it ... his wife have four great children. Twitter: @MoTabEnquirer. Website: motabenquirer.blogspot.com.
Image credit: clarkrc (used with permission).

Guest Post: Remarks on the Passing (and Likely Suicide) of My Son

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My son, Maxwell Defiance Landbeck, was killed early the morning of July 13, 2014. I’ve written about Max before, about our troubles. This post is my effort to make sense of his death. To find personal context and peace with it, to see the meaning in our loss and grief. It is comprised mostly of the remarks I gave at his memorial service, though I've included a few passages from the eulogy his sister read (the entire eulogy is here).

"Grief is the natural by-product of love. One cannot selflessly love another person and not grieve at their suffering or death. The only way to avoid grief would be to not experience the love; and it is the love that gives life its richness and meaning."

A little over two years ago, Max was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. In the months prior to that, he struggled with substance abuse. It is now obvious he was self-medicating. The burden of bi-polar disorder is swinging between depressive and manic episodes. For Max, when he was Manic, he would become delusional. Delusions of different realities, grandiose visions and fantasies. He was never violent, but pursued his bizarre notions no matter how strange or dangerous.

When Max would use drugs, even marijuana, he became even more delusional. But he sought out bizarre drugs, custom hallucinogens, spice, gleefully experimenting with substances that were not technically illegal. During these years, family and friends tried to help him, offering him a place to live if he promised to quit for good. Max was easy to love, but difficult to live with. Addiction is a terrible burden. He could not resist the draw of trying drugs one more time. Each time Max was certain that it would help. Each time he was terribly wrong.

In the very early morning of Sunday, July 13 Max was struck by a freight train and killed instantly.

Do Hard Things

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by Seattle Jon:

Summit of Mount Adams. Mount Rainier in the distance.

I recently summited Mount Adams with my two oldest children, Ella (14) and Will (12). The 12,281 foot strato-volcano is the second highest mountain in the state of Washington, and while the climb isn't that technical, crampons and ice axes are needed and people do die in pursuit of the summit.

The six-mile climb from trailhead to summit took two days and was extremely difficult, one of the most physically and mentally challenging things I've done in my life. Part of me wonders what I was thinking doing this with them, but the other part thinks I don't do enough hard things with my kids.

My sense is too many kids these days live less-challenged lives. Society, it seems, has extremely low expectations of kids, especially teenagers, which can cause them to then have low expectations of themselves. Providing opportunities for kids to get out of their comfort zone and encouraging them to exceed expectations as often as possible should foster personal growth on a level we're not used to seeing.

We've already seen changes in Ella and Will - some subtle and some extraordinary - since the climb.

Will was a machine on the climb, leading our party of six for most of the way. I could not pass him no matter how hard I tried. He was the first to start out after breaks and the first to summit. Since the climb, he's been more patient and fun with his brothers, and interestingly, a smarter eater. I'm thinking this might be because we were careful about what food we packed and how we had to ration near the end of the climb. He also seems more mature and a little wiser than before. Instead of poorly managing his time last year as an 11 year-old scout camper, returning with only one complete and two partial merit badges, he returned this year the week following the climb with five merit badges and no partials after planning to complete just three. Coincidence?

View from camp. Mount St. Helens in the distance.

Ella has been a different young woman since the climb. There was a moment on the mountain that could have been a turning point for her personally. We'd reached the false summit, about 800 feet below the true summit. We were exhausted and our food and water were running low. Rather than resting, Will and I pushed ahead, leaving Ella and her cousin to follow with another member of the party. When that person had to sit out the final ascent due to injury, Ella and her cousin had a choice to make. They could sit out too, or get up and climb a very difficult last 800 feet to the summit by themselves. I can't tell you how cool it was to look back down the mountain and see them trudging up the snow and ice. I think Ella knows she made a difficult choice and accomplished something amazing, and it changed her. Since returning, she has been more confident, happy and content; less moody, judgmental and reclusive; and quicker to forgive and express love. Surely this too can't be a coincidence.

What is it about doing hard things that changes who we are?


Seattle Jon is a family man, little league coach, urban farmer and businessman living in Seattle. He currently gets up early with the markets to trade bonds for a living. In his spare time he enjoys movies, thrifting and is an avid reader. He is a graduate of Brigham Young University and the Japan Fukuoka mission field. He has one wife, four kids and three chickens.
Image credit: GB Overton (used with permission).

Another Modern Mormon Man Born

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MMM co-founder Scott Heffernan and his wife Aimee welcomed another boy yesterday (that makes three). Perhaps his recent Big Tent illustration wasn't about room for all in the church after all, but was instead a reminder to buy a bigger tent for when he takes his family camping. Anyway, congratulations Scott and Aimee!

This Post is Pretty Brilliant Too

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by Seattle Jon:

Amidst all the recent divisive discussion and debate about the role of women in the church, one thing is certain, at least in my mind - our young women will someday benefit from many great and important things not yet revealed that pertain specifically to them. So to those of us raising daughters, and to those of us crossing paths with young women in this church, let's be aware of the messages they receive at church and not forget our responsibility to remind them that they're "pretty brilliant too." Who knows, one of us might be raising the next Kate Kelly and she needs to be ready for a different response from god.

How Many Handbook Rules Does It Take To Remove God From A Mormon Baptism?

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I baptized our two youngest sons two weeks ago. Noah had turned eight a week earlier, and our recently adopted nine year-old son, Jonathan, wanted to get baptized on the same day as Noah. The service turned out to be a special experience for our family, it just wasn't what my wife and I had initially envisioned when we'd started planning the baptism a few weeks ago.

Weather in Seattle during the end of May / beginning of June is wonderful, so one of us suggested an outdoor baptism. We have friends who live on the Puget Sound and have a large hot tub overlooking the beach. Could we do it there? "Absolutely," our friends said.

We talked about how we wanted the service to feel authentic to where our family is in our faith journey. The last five years have seen major changes in how we approach religion and the church - I've become less orthodox in my beliefs and my wife has been attending a non-denominational Christian church for almost two years. As a result of these changes, we wanted the baptismal service to focus more on how baptism is a commitment to follow Christ and less on how the boys were joining the mormon church. So we called one of our closest friends, who now lives in the Midwest and is a non-denominational youth pastor whose approach to Christ we value and respect, to see if he'd attend and briefly speak on what committing to Christ means to him. "I'll buy a plane ticket," he said.

We wanted a private gathering of only family and a few friends, so chose not to announce the baptism in sacrament meeting. I bought a new white shirt for the ordinances. The kids had their interviews with the bishop (with my wife in attendance). And then, a few days before the baptism, the battle with the Handbooks began and we felt God being removed from the preparations.

Say My Name

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by Eliana:

1. Once upon a time, I met an amazing man named Todd. We instantly clicked and spent most of our time together over the next several months. We saw awesome plays, talked on the phone when we were apart, and I even edited his 100 page honors thesis. Good stuff.

Then I met another Todd. This Todd was someone I was interested in Not as a Friend. So I would refer to Todd #1 as “Todd” and the new Todd as “Other Todd.

Then “Other Todd” and I fell in love and he became “Todd” while Todd #1 was relegated, respectfully, to “Other Todd.”

Despite the confusion, both Todds were at my wedding and I ended up getting hitched to the correct one. Years of friendship ensued and since the two Todds were so dramatically different, there was never any confusion on my part. Not so for anyone who asked about what Husband Todd and I did over a weekend and I had to explain that we went to visit Todd. Insert laugh track and sitcom magic could be born.

2. I have a whole theory of child naming that should be a New York Times best seller but probably won’t make it into book form, so I’ll share it with you all. Please don’t write your own book using my genius idea. That would make me cry.

Are Kids Sports a Hidden Scourge in Society?

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by Seattle Jon:

I'm coaching my son’s little league team again this year, which meant 2+ hour practices three days a week in March and 2.5+ hour games three days a week through the end of June. That's a lot of baseball. And when you spend that amount of time around baseball you meet other parents who also spend a lot of time around baseball. So what do we talk about?

Mostly about how to balance being the supportive parent who spends three hours a day driving all over town to allow our child to pursue his or her dreams without becoming the supportive parent that drives all over town to allow our child to pursue OUR dreams.

I've witnessed a few situations with kids over the last few years that I can only describe as exhausting. Little league baseball wasn't enough, as parents spent thousands of dollars on "select" baseball to get formal training and weekly tournaments, hired local celebrities for private hitting lessons and bought top-of-the-line equipment and gear. Not to mention these kids were also still playing select soccer, basketball or lacrosse. Just imagining the time and money required to make this work makes me want to take a nap then start looking for a second job.