All us Stiers are very intense people. Yeah, you know about me. But you probably don’t know that my sweet little wife can more than hold her own. She also loves to make the kids laugh (and she is very funny!) Jeremy has been nicknamed “The Hurricane” by my Uncle Dave. This is the same kid that pulled the fire alarm at the airport when he was three. He has been playing tricks on us all week and making us laugh. And let’s just say that our sweet little Kailey has got more than enough spice to go with that sweet. She also loves to sing "Itsy bitsy spider" and "rain, rain go away" at random times and for no apparent reason (But it cracks us all up!) Put all that together and you have a vacation packed with lots of laughter and lots of action! Here’s just a few of the things we were able to do:

• Stay with my Uncle Jack and Aunt Earlene for a few days eating good food, hiking beautiful trails and hearing great Uncle Jack stories!

• Go ATVing in the mountains near Redstone, Colorado.

• Go hiking to three different, beautiful rivers in The Rocky Mountain National Park.

• Spend time in Marble, Colorado marveling at the marble (yes, that’s why the city was named “Marble”…huge chunks of it everywhere!)

• Shop for nicknacks, trinkets and toys in Estes Park.

• Get one of those pictures taken of your family dressed up as Old West desperados (It’s kind of scary how we all look like we fit the bill!)

• Visit “downtown” Carbondale and get educated on this mining town’s rough and tumble past.

• Spend time at a mini-amusement park racing go karts, racing down a huge slide and spinning and soaking in the bumper boats.

• Praise God together as a family for his beautiful creation! I’m so glad to be living in Colorado. Everyday here is a reminder of his awesome creative power!

It’s been a great week.

Today kicks off our annual vacation week of Stier family fun. Where are we headed this year? An exotic tropical location (where I have a tendency to run out of gas at the top of volcanos)? No. This year we are headed around our own great state…Colorado! We are praying that between the hiking, swimming, ATVing and the fishing we all have an absolute BLAST in the awesome beauty of our majestic state.

We have had a family vacation every year since Debbie and I got married in 1991. Why do I think it’s important? Because my primary responsibility is not to Dare 2 Share but to my own wife and kids. My prayer is that these vacations will create unforgettable memories of fun, worship and all-around-craziness that my wife and kids will never forget.

I love being a husband.  I love being a daddy. I’m far from perfect at it. But I sure am enjoying the journey.

I tried to reassure him that it was going to be okay. I gave him the typical "just try your hardest speech" and  told him stories of my field day experiences growing up.

For me "Field Day" were two words that I loathed with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. I was the slowest runner in every "dash" there was. I once quit the hundred yard dash because I was so far behind everyone else (not my proudest moment.)

But, while I couldn’t run or throw or jump that well there were other things I could do. I could wrestle and preach (not at the same time thank you very much.)

As I explained to Jeremy how bad I was it brought a slight smile to his face. If he got my athletic genes and is not good at sports we’d work on it, practice harder and find other things that he can excel at. If he got my wife’s genes and excels at sports we’d work on it, practice harder and find even more things he can excel at. Either way, my challenge to my boy was to do his best for Jesus and, if someone is faster than him, praise God for the speed God gave the other kid.

His biggest concern is that he won’t win an award of any kind. I reminded him that if there was an award for an articulate little kid who knows how to tell stories that he would win hands down. I reminded him of how even older kids gather around him at times to hear him say his funny little sayings and tell his stories. I reminded him how the only thing that matters is that we serve Jesus and try our best for his glory.

But, if you think about it today, utter a little prayer for my boy Jeremy today during field day. Pray that he tries his best and remembers daddy’s words no matter what happens. And pray that he goes to sleep with a smile on his face tonight.

In my mind he needed the fable to calm him after mom and daddy pulled and twisted, wiggled and jiggled the poor bicuspid until it "fell" out. Between the tears and the blood (just a little), the laughter and the cheers I comforted my little boy with the thought of getting money from the little fairy that loves teeth (come to think of it that’s a little weird. I’ve heard of stamp collectors but tooth collectors? He/she must be a cat lover…see my last post for more info on that)

For those of you who think it’s wrong to talk to kids about fables and fairys and such, please cut me a break. Let me give you a few reasons to give a little slack to the Stier man:

1. I believed in the tooth fairy as a kid and it didn’t affect me negatively on any level (on second thought….)
2. Jeremy’s "theology" is pretty solid for a six year old anyway. He’s knows the real meaning of Christmas, Easter, etc. He knows that Santa isn’t real (although he chooses to pretend like he believes in Santa for tradition’s sake and so that he won’t crush daddy!)
3. He told me this morning that he didn’t believe in the tooth fairy anyway. He told me that he/she (?) doesn’t exist and that it was an angel that left the money. I asked him if was it "the tooth angel"? He said, "No dad. Just a regular angel."

I love being a daddy. I love telling you these stories. Thanks for reading my kooky blog. Gotta go…my tooth kind of hurts.

The torrent of the second half of the Game Day conference tour has begun. The last few weekends have been back to back conferences:  Columbus and St. Louis then off to the Group Youth Worker’s Conference in Indy. It all starts over again next weekend in Lincoln then on to Phoenix. And then it gets really busy! (How does Ron Luce do 36 events? He is the ironman of the conference circuit! You go Ron!)

This is my last "free" weekend for awhile so I decided to get away with my family up to Estes Park. Hopefully we will be able to go tubing (Jeremy’s favorite), do a little shopping (my wife’s favorite) and watch an episode or two of Dora the Explorer (Kailey’s favorite.)

By the way what’s the deal with Dora? She hangs out with a talking monkey named "Boots" who wears boots (how convenient!) Dora and her "innocent" little crew of misfits are constantly on a "journey" somewhere looking for something. Hmmmm. There is a talking map and a clepto fox who is cleverly named "Swiper." Not to mention the grumply old troll and the mariachi band of reptiles who show up anywhere at anytime and play a tune for no apparent reason. Or maybe there is a method to their madness, their dark madness.

Whenever one of the catchy songs play ("I’m the Map" or "We did it" or a reptilian instrumental mariachi type tune) my little girl starts dancing and singing along. Yeah, yeah, it’s cute. But is it a cult?

Something is amiss in Disneyland or Nicelodianville or Sesame street or wherever.

Is the antichrist going to take control of the world and unite it under his control by unleashing the unholy trinity (Dora, Boots and Swiper) to lead the minds of our children to the a,b,c’s of evil? Is the grumpy old troll the beast mentioned in Revelation? Is "the map" the devil’s guide to uniting a new world order under the control of the antichrist?

Why is Dora obsessed with exploring anyway? Could it be that she is scouting out the entire globe plotting the overthrow of humanity as we know it? Could it be that she is raising up a generation of toddlers and small children who will do her bidding without question? I can hear the chants already, "Dora! Dora! Dora!" as she hands out talking backpacks filled with candy, toys and Evil 101 Coloring Books to millions upon millions of adoring children. Maybe her little bilingual focus is a ploy to unite North and South America under one totalitarian regime. Uno governmento for El Diablo.

Or maybe I’m just loco. Maybe it’s just a show. Maybe Dora is fine. Maybe I really need to rest this weekend.

Sorry if I offended any Dora fans with my musings. I’m tired. Dog tired. On the positive side, as obnoxious as this article is, we both made it through it. I wrote it and you read it.  It’s enough to make me want to sing, "We did it! We did it! Oh yeah we did it!"

Uh oh.

I have one cousin who at one point was 240 pounds (although only 5’8" tall) and could bench press 550 pounds. I, on the other hand, am lucky to bench the bar and both clasps on a good day with a good spotter and a protein shake.

My gym goal is to be almost, quasi-semi buff. For me a compliment is, "Hey, if you worked out you could get big." Just knowing that somebody sees potential in my puny arms is enough encouragement for me and my baby biceps to keep working out from time to time. 

How does this all tie into being a preacher and evangelist? It could be handy. Think about it. If a preacher has got enough tricep showing when he preaches and points to the text the audience knows that if they charge the stage he can give them a taste of the "Old Testament" right upside their head for the glory of God.

Just kidding. Preaching and violence don’t mix. I’ve tried it before and strained my hamstring in the process.

Anyway, my little boy is looking at my little arms and I said something daddy muey macho like, "You see these boy. You can’t buy these in the store. These babies are homegrown."

I’ll never forget Jeremy’s response, "Oh yeah daddy?" holding his five year old arms up in a bodybuilder pose, "Well these are made of chocolate."

I don’t even know why his little statement was funny. But it was. I made his breakfast wondering how I got one-uped again by a Kindergartner.

Speaking of flexing, it reminds me of God’s words in Jeremiah 9:23, 24, "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom. Neither let the rich man boast about his riches, or the mighty man of his might. But let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me…." At the end of the day big biceps, bank accounts or brains don’t matter. The only thing that matters is that we know, love and serve our Almighty God.

It’s a good thing God doesn’t wear a sleaveless shirt. One look at a God’s fully flexed biceps and we’d all be running like scared school girls into the night (no offense to any scared school girls reading this right now.)

Gotta go…for some reason I’m hungry for chocolate!

I’ll never forget it. He came home from his Christian school, looked me in the eyes and gave me his bold assertion. He then started grilling me with questions like,

"It’s you isn’t it daddy? You eat the cookies and drink the milk, not Santa…don’t you?"

"Ummmmm…."

"Santa doesn’t leave presents under the tree. You and mommy do…don’t you?"

"Ummmmm…."

"Santa’s a fake isn’t he daddy?"

But before he could get his final set of C.S.I. worthy interrogation questions out from over his first set of teeth I interrupted, "Jeremy tell me what Christmas is really about."

"It’s God’s birthday."

"And why did  Jesus come to the earth to be born."

"To die on the cross for our sins."

"Right Jeremy that’s the real meaning of Christmas. I tell you that every year and you know it.  When it comes to Santa all I’m going to tell you was that there was a real man who lived named St. Nicholas. He loved Jesus and loved children and gave gifts to them in the name of Jesus."

"Well I like him, but I don’t believe in the other one anymore."

Your perogative kid. You go to a great Christian school. I went to a Christian school too. But my Christian school was so strict and so anti-Santa they could of wrote the song,

     "You better watch out. You better not cry. You better be good, I’m telling you why…Santa Claus is dead."

In trying to establish the true meaning of Christmas some of my former teachers often became the Grinches who stole some of the fun out of it. Don’t get me wrong, I have a serious problem with the over commercialization of Christmas, the changing of "Merry Christmas" to happy holidays, the celebration of a goofy thing like "Winter Solstice" (can you say Koo Koo?), and the vast underemphasis of the real reason for the season.

But come on? The fake Santa was based on the real St. Nicholas, a 4th Century Pastor who was beloved for his love of Jesus and children. I would classify jolly old St. Nick as a harmless legend, a fun fantasy, a mischievious myth. No I don’t want him to come close to overshadowing the real reason for the season, just like St. Nicholas would never want to distract anybody from the baby Jesus, the real baby Jesus that became the Savior of humanity. The holy/human one who was born of a virgin, raised in obscurity, died on a cross for the sins of humanity and was risen from the dead in power. The real reason for Christmas is so overwhelmingly powerful and the "fake" reason for the season is so unabashedly farfetched can’t the two (the awesome fact and the fun fiction) live together in relative harmony?

Is it so bad for a forty one five year old to believe in Santa Claus?

Jeremy loves Jesus. Daddy loves Jesus. Jeremy doesn’t believe in "the fake Santa" anymore. But daddy is going to still leave out milk and cookies tonight.

"Daddy where’s Shadow?"

"Ummm. Jeremy you know that she died last night. You kissed her goodbye. I had to take her to the doggy place so they could ‘deal’ with her."

"She will never be back?" his eyes starting to well up.

"No, Jeremy, we are having her cremated."

Blank look from Jeremy.

"I’ll bring her back in a cannister" was my failed attempt at grief management.

Blank look morphs into a look of fear. Jeremy started getting nervous imagining Shadow in a can, her little puppy dog eyes pressing against the glass.

"Jeremy she’s coming back as ashes." (I didn’t think he would understand the implications, i.e. furnace, fire, ashes, etc.)

"You are going to put her in the fire?" his voice rising in righteous indignation.

"Ummmmmm."

"What are you going to do with me when I die Daddy? Are you going to put me in the fire and put me in a can?" the little guy is getting all worked up as I am freaking out trying to prevent further psychological damage.

"No, Jeremy, we are going to bury you in a coffin in the ground." (as the words spilled over my lips I knew it was the exact wrong thing to say, but it was too late.)

"You are going to put me in the ground?!!!!"

Needless to say I got the "what were you thinking" look from Debbie that night. She solved his problem with a long hug and a much better explanation.

You think explaining theology to ten thousand teenagers in a room is tough? Try explaining the death of a pet to a five year old.

Shadow always slept at our feet at night. She would snuggle up against our legs to keep warm. My wife will especially miss her presence when I am gone on the road (which is a lot).

When I came home last night my wife was holding shadow against her chest as she struggled to breathe. My wife then said, "Greg, I think Shadow is dying right now." With that she stretched back as far as her little neck would allow her to, licked my wife on the cheek one last time, jerked three times and died. Jeremy, my five year old son, didn’t quite get it until I told him to come over and say goodbye to shadow. When I said, "Shadow is dead. She is gone and she won’t be coming back" it finally hit him. Jeremy began to cry like I’ve never seen him cry before. Kailey, our two year old, began to cry because everyone else was crying. It was a house of mourning over our little dog last night.

I ended up telling stories about Shadow for about thirty minutes to distract my wife and son from the pain. We laughed, cried, remembered and thanked God together for our special little dog.

The saddest thing last night was not when Shadow died. I was expecting that. The saddest thing I saw was when Jeremy ran down the stairs to say goodbye "one last time." I followed him part way down so that I could witness this poignant moment. He knelt down by shadow, put his hand gently on her paw, whispered something to shadow and then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. He began crying again.

It’s tough to watch your little boy "get" death for the first time. Last night we talked about life and death. We talked about "resurrection". We debated on whether or not dogs will resurrect from the dead someday (Jeremy is pro dog resurrection. I am not.) We hugged, cried, laughed and prayed.

Although she was a little dog she lived a pretty big life. We love her. We’ll miss her. Pray for my wife who is heartbroken, my little boy who is struggling with the reality of death for the first time and for my little daughter who is crying because everyone else is. Pray for me to have wisdom to know how to comfort them.

We will all miss you Shadow. You were the best dog I’ve ever had.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Why? Because we aren’t home!

We are crammed in a condo/time share/ "community" just outside of Estes Park with my in-laws (who own it), my sister-in-law, nephew, wife and kids. I snuck out this morning at 5:45ish to track down a Starbucks with trusty T-mobile Wi-Fi.

Found it!

Yesterday we ran hard and played harder (I pulled a hammy or something in the process.) Last night we all collapsed early after a fun-filled day of mountainous mayhem. Today is probably more of the same.

I try to get the fun times with the fam in when I can because the hurricane is about to start. Next week I start doing youth leader lunches, fundraising dinners and the like. A few weeks after that the Game Day tour launches full bore.

So today I’ll skip, limp, run and wrestle with my kids and nephew. I’ll take long walks with my wife and a short nap with my kids.

Although I love being the preacher boy at Dare 2 Share, I love my wife and kids even more.

Got to go…it’s time to play!