Special Post

Marriage is a journey of continuous learning and growth. And recently, a conversation with my accountability partner sparked insights so valuable, I knew they had to be shared. Our discussion challenged conventional wisdom and reinforced timeless truths about what makes a marriage not just survive, but truly thrive.

Read on to learn three tips for nurturing a successful marriage.

Be 100% to 100%

One often repeated idea about marriage is that each person has to work to a 50/50 split. The intent behind this usually revolves around compromise. The thinking goes that if each person gives in a little, the couple can avoid unnecessary conflict. 

The problem with this approach is that if I want to go to New York and Sarah wants to go to Phoenix, ostensibly, the compromise would be going to some city in the middle of the country. But neither of us would be happy with that compromise! Instead, I would be better off traveling to Phoenix and being 100% in on Sarah’s choice. Or conversely, she would be better off going to New York. 

An all-in marriage — where both partners are 100% — is the way to go on every issue, not just a hypothetical travel conundrum.

One team  

It is easy to be 100% all-in when you view your marriage as “one team.” To be clear, I don’t think I have ever used the term “team” to describe Sarah and me. But that is how we act. We are one unit that is in lockstep and fully aligned. 

If a big decision needs to be made, what matters is not what I want (or what she wants) but what we want.

If one of our wonderfully behaved kids tested our boundaries (okay, they do all the time because they are kids!), it is now not how I react but how we react. We agree on the next steps. 

Marriage is a commitment before it is anything else. It is always WE before ME.  

Never use the word divorce — even in jest 

My accountability partner talked about how seriously he has taken this “rule” with his wife. This reminded me of some off-hand joking comments I made early in our marriage (don’t judge) about divorce. Sarah gave me one of those looks that stopped me in my tracks. Some jokes are off the table. 

There’s a good chance someone reading this blog has been through a divorce — and I want you to know that I share this principle with absolutely no judgment. I do not think I am better than you, nor do I think I have all the answers, nor do I believe my marriage is divorce-proof. I think my marriage, and any marriage for that matter, can dissolve when two human beings are involved. For this reason, I believe this principle is a good one. 

What this principle conveys is that there should be a stickiness to marriage. The vows say it best: through sickness and health. I could add my own junk here: through my annoying sports rooting meltdowns, my aging body that no longer looks like it did when I was 24, my constant self-induced pressure to be better at every aspect of life, my insecurity around my leadership, and how I carry all that junk home and often am irritable, tired, and discouraged. 

You can pray for Sarah, and given what I listed, there could easily be times when she could joke about divorce.  “Keep this up, buddy, and you’ll  ….” 

But she never goes within a million miles of that. 

Why? 

We are 100% to 100% 

We are one team — it is about WE. 

We are all in. 

And what about Sarah’s imperfections? No way. I’m no idiot! (See, now that’s the kind of marriage humor I embrace!) 

My prayer is that these tips help those of you who are married. 

*Every year around July 5th (my “Papa’s” birthday) I write him a letter. He passed away in 2005, but he is never far from my mind):

Dear Papa,

We live in interesting times these days. An opinion article in the WSJ recently pointed to one of the differences between our generations and yours: “In 1960, only 5% of Americans had a negative reaction to the idea of marrying somebody from a different political party; now it’s 38%.” 

This statistic encapsulates our current state as a society. Politics is becoming the primary characteristic of our lives, leading to division.

I usually write blog posts about leadership, and I firmly believe that leadership can be taught. This belief stems from a growth mindset rooted in critical thinking. Unfortunately, I often observe that the most fixed-minded among us are those with the strongest political beliefs: Republicans are evil, Democrats are evil, and both are evil. It is no longer “I disagree.” It is, “Those people are evil.” 

Apparently, it is even “you better not marry one of those people.”  

This makes me sad and concerned about where it will lead our country. 

Having said this, I do not long for a return to the 1950s. While some reading this post might long for the good old days, there has been progress that we should be proud of. Our team at Hoffer Plastics is more diverse than ever, which is a blessing. I am co-CEO with my two sisters, which would have been unheard of in the 1950s.  

But I also have to be honest: not everything we call progress is progress. Our culture is both the most individualistic and, by most studies, the most unhappy, perhaps ever. So, we are not only becoming more politically divided, but we are also becoming more sad in the process. 

I am sharing this because you and your generation prioritized three things that are instructive to me in this cultural moment that we are living in: 

Sacrificial Service

We call your generation the greatest generation because of sacrificial service. Later this year, I will once again stand at Omaha Beach and walk every last gravestone at the American cemetery in Normandy. This is the ultimate example of sacrificial service. These soldiers died together regardless of political identity. 

I also know that you embodied this at a personal level. After V-J day, you came home and worked diligently for your family. You set aside your ambition in music to work at your father-in-law’s pharmacy. This was a personal sacrifice. Your sacrificial service helped your family, which eventually led to me. For this, I am thankful. 

Community 

On one hand, our generation tends to prioritize family over everything else. We easily attend more events than your generation did. But at the same time, I fear that our view of family is smaller in scale than it was for your generation. What I mean is that your generation knew your neighbors well, whereas our generation waves as we drive by our neighbors heading to the next Little League game. We are too busy and scheduled to really know them. 

Your generation also tended to live near grandparents and prioritized family gatherings. Our generation tends to use technology like FaceTime and text messaging to stay in touch. On the one hand, I am thankful for how these technologies keep us connected, but I am also sad at how hard it is to make time for extended family. We tend to live lives that are too scheduled for family reunions. So, we are more connected and yet less known. 

This often leads to surface-level relationships. Our distant relatives’ political rants on social media drive us crazy, not to mention the sign of the opposing party that our neighbor puts up. We roll our eyes in disgust as we drive by, but we do not know much about them outside of this sign in their front yard or the rant on social media. So, it is easier to indulge in our anger and judgment because we have failed to prioritize our community and getting to know them.

Getting to know them would open us up to who they are. We might even discover that while they have different political beliefs than we do, they have an interesting perspective. Community regularly leads to growth: It is hard to hate your neighbors when you know them. Conversely, it is easier to be graceful when you know them.  

Unity

Finally, your generation prioritized unity over division. Decades after the fact, I can still remember dinners with some of your friends, many of whom were veterans of World War II. For the life of me, I cannot remember any of their politics. I cannot remember who was for/against Vietnam, who liked Reagan and who did not, nor can I remember political discussion being all that important.  

What I do remember is a lot of laughter, good food, and better memories. In fact, I still get goosebumps when I visit my friend John and go to Evansville Country Club. I can still hear the laughter and feel the memories come back to life. 

My fear is that our generation’s lasting memory won’t be that of unity but of tribe. We are busy bodies with little time for depth. Our surface-level interactions make us easily offended. No wonder some messages are deemed “unsafe.” 

An Invitation 

But what if we got to know each other? What if we spent time getting to know what makes our neighbor tick? Or, what would happen if we got to know why one of the parents at the Little League game wears a political T-shirt of a candidate we disagree with? 

My guess is that we would learn something in the process and become a little less divided.

As I close, let me assure you, and anyone looking in, that I am not a doomsayer. I believe all things can be restored. In fact, I believe that one day Jesus will restore all things! On that day none of these differences will matter whatsoever.

I am also of this generation, and I have to confess that I can fall into my own tribalism when I am at my worst. Simply put, part of my sadness is a recognition that I sometimes bite the apple and believe this “election is the most important election of our country.”

But the news will say the same thing in two years, let alone another four. Their business model relies on us biting this apple. 

What I know is that we would be best off putting others above ourselves, getting to know our community, and prioritizing unity over division.

Like your generation, I still believe our best days are yet to come. But these better days are certainly not guaranteed, nor are they promised. They will only come if we wake up and become people worth following. 

The kind that loves their neighbor like themselves. 

I always miss you, but I miss you a little more during times like these.

To that end, I promise to do my best to love like Jesus loves, and to treat people like I want to be treated.

Love,

Alex

The best television series I have seen in quite some time is Apple TV’s Masters of the Air. This miniseries follows the actions of the 100th Bomb Group during World War II. 

The 100th became known as the “Bloody 100th” because most airmen didn’t survive the war. The losses included 184 missing air crews, 229 planes either lost or salvaged, 757 men killed or missing in action, and another 923 taken as prisoners of war. 

While there are several inspiring moments throughout the miniseries, there is one moment that, to me, captures the heart of Memorial Day. In the last episode, the Allies are closing in on one of the prisoner-of-war camps, and while violence is breaking out inside the camp between the prisoners and their German prison guards, Major John “Bucky” Egan weaves his way through the crowd to the building flying the Nazi flag. Lifted up by his fellow soldiers onto a small roof, Bucky climbs the flagpole. The soldiers cheer wildly, almost to the point where it appears that no one is even acting anymore. Bucky then drops the Nazi flag to the men, who rip it to pieces.

He then hangs the Stars and Stripes. 

Bucky then looks down at the mass of men — black and white soldiers, all together — cheering and sensing that they were on the cusp of what they had longed for all those years of war: peacetime and home. 

Bucky surveys the scene once last time and then puts his forehead on the flagpole, appearing to pray silently. 

What occurred to me watching this episode was that peace only came through immense loss and sacrifice. 

This is something to pause and consider on this Memorial Day. 

A Memorial Day Message 

I’m not one to glamorize war. I’ve read enough history to know we should avoid it at all costs. 

I have also read enough about the World War II generation to know that their sacrifices for humankind are almost incomprehensible. Those who served in the 100th, for example, either did not make it home or were never the same.

Their sacrifices freed the world from the oppression of Nazism. They were a necessary and costly sacrifice. 

When I think of Memorial Day, I always think of the sacrifices that ALL the men and women of our armed forces have made through the years. I think of those who served in places like Afghanistan, Iraq, Vietnam, and World War II. Regardless of what I might think about the particulars of each conflict, I salute and give thanks to those who have served. 

And this includes all the family members who mourn for those who didn’t come home. They have served our country as well. 

Thank you to these people. 

They are the real heroes and real leaders. 

I pause this blog to reflect on and thank them all.

A few moments after getting to my in-laws for Christmas, I received a phone call telling me that one of our team members had died the previous night. It was tragic, sudden, and extremely sad. But little did I know then that this was only the beginning. Over the next six weeks, we lost three direct team members to tragic health situations and a total of nine people overall when counting team family members. 

Winter is the darkest time of the year, and this past winter was one of the darkest. 

As those who follow Jesus celebrate Easter this week, I want to dedicate this post to exploring this question: Can there be light after darkness? Admittedly, this is my annual Easter post, which is a departure from the usual format of this blog. I hope you continue, but if you don’t, I’ll return to the usual format next time. My prayer for you and those grieving is that you find the light. 

Darkness 

As I’ve shared before, one of the most striking things about Jesus is his compassion. The gospel of John does a good job of giving a glimpse of this when his friend Lazarus dies (John 11:1-44). After comforting Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary (verse 19), Jesus moved on to where Lazarus was laid to rest. Then, the narrative arrives at the pivotal moment. Upon arriving, John writes these words: 

“Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)

Not only is this the shortest verse in the Bible — it is perhaps the most relatable, for we live in a very broken world. Another way to say it is “broken” is to say it is dark. 

Darkness is cancer, heart attacks, and sudden illness that leads to death. Darkness is gun violence, racial injustice, and poverty. Darkness is all kinds of war, just and unjust. Darkness is loneliness, broken relationships, and political strife or idolatry. Darkness is abuse, neglect, and harassment.

The list could go on. 

The skeptic asks, perhaps rightly — with all this darkness, how is there even a God that is good? 

While such a question deserves to be answered — and to be fair to the reader, I believe such an answer exists — notice what Jesus did not do with Mary and Martha. He didn’t answer the question of why. When Mary stated that her brother would have survived had Jesus been there (verse 32), Jesus didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he just asked where Lazarus was (verse 34), and then he wept.

One of the thousands of reasons why I follow Jesus is because of this: Jesus mourned with those who mourned. He is worth following because his goal was not to win an argument, prove a point, or win a convert. 

One chapter prior, in John 10:10, Jesus said:

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (Emphasis mine). 

What I learned about darkness this year is that I have to force myself to wallow in it. I have to mourn with those who mourn and resist the urge to move on to the next business opportunity or distraction. And if that means I must wipe away a tear as I walk our plant floor, then so be it. 

Jesus wept. 

So must I. 

Light

I’m going to confess something now: Sometimes, it takes the right set of circumstances to allow myself to feel what I need to feel — and sometimes, it takes international travel for this to happen. I’ve discovered that the lack of sleep, change of routine, and a little bit of homesickness can lessen my self-defenses and allow me to feel what I need to feel. 

One of those moments occurred on January 25th this year. I was leaving Barcelona, one of my favorite places on the planet, and was in the right place at the right time for something I might never forget. 

We were headed to Munich before switching planes and heading back to Chicago, and our flight left Barcelona right at sunset. As we took off, the sky was cloudless. Amazingly, the darkness that had engulfed us on the ride to the airport 90 minutes earlier had disappeared. Outside the airplane window, I could see light beginning to emerge over the Mediterranean. 

I looked up from the book I was reading and then decided to put it down. As I looked out, I just sat in complete and utter wonder. 

One of the things my friend and pastor has always encouraged me to do is look for God in the every day and then praise Him with attributes found in the Bible. This was that kind of moment: 

I silently prayed: 

God, you are the Creator. As I look at the sun coming out from what appears to be underneath the Mediterranean Sea, all I can say is WOW. You are majestic. You are the Light of the World. As I ponder the darkness of losing several Hoffer Plastics team members, I am reminded in your word that you are the Comforter. Jesus, you wept. Because you wept, I know it is okay to weep myself. And Lord, I have! I mourn with those who mourn and pray for you to bring comfort that is unexplainable. Lord, there are times when words just are inadequate, and this is one of those times. I pray you will intercede and bring peace. While your people can be divisive, I know you are the God of peace and I praise you for that. Amen” 

As our plane gained altitude and headed north to Germany, I realized there could be light after darkness. After all, Good Friday was the darkest of days, and it led to Easter morning. 

I know that a short blog post will not convince anyone that Jesus died and rose again. While I believe He did, my prayer is that this post increases your curiosity about Jesus. What I know is that this year has been hard, and most years have elements that are also hard. Jesus is my hope in those years and where I turn when I am at my lowest. If I lean in enough and wait long enough, my experience is that the darkness disappears. I hope that in Jesus, one day, it will be gone forever. 

My words end here, but if you are curious or need a little hope this Easter, may I direct you to something that may help? 

Here is singer-songwriter Blessing Offor — a blind man — singing about how he hopes heaven is like a Tin Roof. I hope it moves you like it moves me. 

Dear Grandpa, 

I recently read a critically acclaimed biography about Martin Luther King Jr. (King: A Life) that touched on every aspect of his life. So many elements of King’s life stood out to me: his courage, his tenacity, his sense of calling, his willingness to suffer, and much, much more. His imperfections also stood out to me. Quite honestly, I had not considered them before. The version of MLK I had in my head was simply inaccurate. 

As I have read my Bible this year and reflected on my life, being human has been a primary theme. People are people, a simple lesson I’m sure you’d remind me of. Your leadership saw people for who they were, not for some image of them that was not real. You also recognized that people would have both good and bad moments. To that end, our critical eye is best turned inwardly as Jesus instructed us. 

The same can also be said for companies. The leader’s goal is to steer companies past these imperfections, persevere, and improve day after day despite them. And as I have walked the production floor this year, I’ve reflected on my memories of you. How much of them are still accurate, and what am I missing as the years have passed?  

Your tenacity is one memory I’m confident is accurate. I used to think that great leaders made big strategic moves. I’ve realized that big strategic moves are born from small, intentional disciplines. It is the small things that few notice that make all the difference. While I imagine you had momentary lapses in tenacity, your life’s work is evidence of consistency. It is something I aspire to in all aspects of my own life. 

Some call these small disciplines fundamentals. Looking back, it seems to me that you were tenacious about certain fundamentals within our business: 

• Safety wasn’t just a buzzword. It was paramount. 
• Cleanliness meant things were in order and clean long before 5S became commonplace. 
• Each press was measured, each standard challenged, long before any ERP system was in place.
• Visiting customers and working to improve their lives was a daily practice and not part of some one-off initiative. 
• Our team members were treated as part of our family before the value was established and put on the walls.

Our longest-tenured employee is a Black woman who began work over fifty years ago. I don’t know if that was intentional. But I know she is family…and that didn’t happen by accident. It was something you built, day after day, year after year, decade after decade, until the end. 

The end isn’t something people want to think about, but it is something I am thinking about. No, I don’t have any feelings of an early death like President Lincoln or Dr. King did. But, it is the reality of being human. 

Your day came, and my day will too. 

This is a sobering reality to me. 

The morning I returned to work in 2024, I started my day by signing eight sympathy cards. Eight of our team members’ families experienced the worst loss over a 10-day break. It was devastating. I mourned for them and with them. 

And looking back, I remember being upset one night when Dad and I went to visit you at home. I can’t remember how old I was; I only remember asking Grandma where you were. 

“The funeral home,” she said. 

Grandpa’s always at the funeral home, I replied. 

“Yes, he goes often,” she said. 

It’s no wonder your wake went on for hours, and people lined up outside in the cold. 

I want to be that kind of leader as well. 

Thinking of the old house and Grandma brought me to one last realization: My life’s work begins with my marriage to Sarah and then extends to my kids. That’s the most important work, as you would surely remind me. I must remain tenacious there. 

But it doesn’t stop there. My favorite thing to do this year — the thing that has helped me in more ways than I can adequately describe —  is putting on my hairnet, donning my safety glasses, and going to our floor to look for something good. Yes, challenges abound, as they always do with humans, but as you taught us, so does the good. It is there if we seek it. 

Dr. King saw it when it looked impossible; therefore, we, too, can see it when it is cloudy, dark, and cold. What we face pales in comparison to what Dr. King faced. 

What is it that I am looking for? Well, the boldest claim I have ever made in this blog. 

One day, this will all be made right. There will be no more sympathy cards, cloudy days, or sleepless nights. There will be no more racism. In fact, there will no longer be any need to be tenacious.  

We will all finally be able to rest. 

My hope is in Jesus and the coming of his kingdom. This world’s trouble is more than I can handle, so I hope in Him. 

Until then, I promise to work with tenacity. 

One day at a time. 

This is the life you lived. 

I still miss you.

Love, 

Alex 

There are some days in life that I will never forget, and 9/11 was one of them. 

We all have our stories.

I was shaving when my fraternity brother told me what was happening. My sister was living in New York then — was she alright? Were the people stuck in the tower going to get out?

A little while later, I was at my first class of the day, an elective drama class. It was an all-time favorite class! But this day was that day. I will never forget the sound of one of my classmates sobbing — a girl whose name I have somehow forgotten all these years later. “Is my sister alive?” she wailed. Her sister worked near the World Trade Center. 

In our drama class two days later, we learned that her sister was okay. And thankfully, my sister was okay too. 

But for thousands, the answer was different. 

Let’s remember those people today.

Let’s never forget.

On vacation this summer, I learned a valuable lesson about failure and being hard on myself. I’m sharing it, hoping some of you can relate. 

The Quintessential Father/Sons Fishing Trip

I wanted to take my sons Will and Ben out fishing.  I did the appropriate research and landed on a company with great reviews. In my mind, the boys would have the time of their life. I was going to the #bestdadever! 

We were all psyched as we pulled out of the harbor and headed to the fishing spot. I was not concerned until the boat headed to the open ocean. After all, this was not supposed to be “deep sea” fishing, so I did not know what the Captain was up to. Was he just giving us a glimpse of the open water? 

“The Look”

A mile and a half into our journey, Will gave me “the look” that kids give. It is kind of like “the look” my wife gives, the kind that you don’t need to interpret. The kind that you immediately know there is a problem. Onward we went, however, for another 1.5 miles. 

“Here we are at an old shipwreck,” the Captain said. 

How cool is that, I thought? The waves, however, tossed me to the side of the boat like a little crumb falling from the ice cream cone my kids would eat later that day. My next thought was, “How long will this last?” 

Kudos to the Captain regarding the volume of fish at the shipwreck. We caught fish after fish in the ~13 minutes we were there. The Captain even claimed I had a shark on my line for .23 seconds — the best .23 seconds of my life, an admission that would undoubtedly cause my wife to give me “the look.” 

Ben’s “look” came next. “Dad, I don’t feel well.” It was at this moment that I went into sales mode. “Captain,” I said, “we have a problem.” Captain informed me that his experiences are about “reef” fishing, which I admittedly misinterpreted not to be “deep sea fishing.” I can occasionally hit 300-yard drives, but I have a “25” handicap for fishing. However, I don’t care who’s to blame when seasickness is on the line. I owned my mistake and said he was getting paid regardless, but we needed land in a hurry! After looking at Ben’s face, the Captain knew his mission had been redefined. I later learned that he’s happily married and understands “looks” too.  

The Joy of Unexpected Delight

Ten minutes later, we were back in calmer waters, and the seas lessened considerably. The Captain asked Ben if he could fish there. Ben, of course, rebounded. The next few hours, we had fun fishing, although our success rate decreased considerably. And while we saw a small shark, none were hooked, much to my chagrin. 

Then something happened that I did not expect. While moving from one spot to the next, the Captain let both boys have a turn at the helm. Both were legitimately excited, and Ben had us looping around like he wanted us to be sick this time. His smile is something that words simply can’t describe.

What Does this Experience Make Possible?

As I retell this story, however, I have to confess something. During this moment I did not feel like the morning had gone well. I am embarrassed to admit that when Sarah asked how the morning went, I said it was a failure. I felt like I had failed Will, Ben, my father-in-law who had joined us, and even the Captain. Sarah reminded me that the Captain did not care as he was getting paid. 

Isn’t it alarming how negativity prevented me from seeing what was really going on and also led me to think things were much worse than they were? 

Ben, however, had rolled with the punches. He had lived out a credo I learned from Michael Hyatt, “What does this experience make possible?” 

Ben got it. 

I had missed it. 

I learned that I am so hard on myself about parenting, leadership, golf, and just about everything — even planning a once-a-year, 1/2-day fishing experience. It would be like someone who never plays golf getting mad at themselves for hitting bad shots, an occurrence that happens all the time at my local golf course! 

Yet, if I look for it — if you look for it — there is something good to find. 

You have to look for it, not just what you had hoped for. 

When Things Don’t Go According to Plan

The video of Ben driving that boat will be something I will think about when I am 80 years old. It never would have happened if we had sea legs and if things had gone to “Dad’s plan.” 

A few days later, as the vacation wrapped up, my in-laws asked all 14 of us what our best moment was. 

Ben’s? “Driving that boat.” 

Writing this post made me realize it was mine, too.

In the Hoffer household, every April through mid-July is Little League season! And as a veteran Little League parent, I’ve learned a few things over the years.

With that in mind, allow me to introduce my completely unofficial (and slightly tongue-in-cheek) rules for Little League parents. 

1. Anticipate the weather being 30 degrees hotter or colder than the temp your weather app said it would be. Dress appropriately, even if that entails long underwear on Memorial Day weekend.
   
2. Eat whenever you can leading up to the game. If you need to eat lunch at 10AM or dinner at 4PM, do it. The concession stand hot dog is only good when you are near starvation — and all those who claim it is good are near starvation.
   
3. Do eat the concession stand popcorn. It somehow always tastes better at Little League.
   
4. The bathroom situation is like Illinois state politics. For the sake of everyone’s stomach, I’ll leave it at that.
   
5. Decide beforehand if “having fun” is REALLY what you believe. Every adult claims this is what it’s about, but only about 1% follow through on this belief after the first pitch is thrown.
   
6. Remember that the umpire is usually a teenager (in-house game) or volunteer adult (all-star/travel). Neither umpire for a living. Both are human and WILL make mistakes. Ask yourself if you would A. want to umpire and B. be any better at it? If you answer both “yes,” please sign up at your local Little League — we play games every season without an umpire and could use the help.
   
7. Obsess more over your kid’s handling of adversity than success. Hitting the home run may happen once or twice a career, but strikeouts will occur more often. So how Junior handles a strikeout, bad call, or any of the frustrations that come with baseball are the most applicable lessons of Little League.
   
8. Everyone knows that 99.99% of these kids are not destined for a career in the MLB. A good practice for most dads (and moms!) is to start the day repeating this statistic to themselves over and over. Seriously — repeat it over and over!
   
9. Yelling at kids in Little League is just as effective as yelling at your preferred news channel or your favorite team’s mediocre quarterback during the playoff game.
   
10. Yelling at coaches and/or making sarcastic remarks is similarly unhelpful. Respectfully, get off your butt and coach if you know everything.
    
11. If you’re coaching, however, remember that this is not game seven of the World Series. Elaborate signs, strategy, and the like make you look as petty as one of those politicians you are yelling at in rule #9.
    
12. Speaking of yelling: There is simply TOO MUCH yelling at Little League these days. Leave the yelling to the kids clamoring for ice cream or donuts.
    
13. Finally, a baker’s dozen donuts can single-handedly help a team come back from an 8-1 last-inning deficit. Don’t ask me how this happens, but I saw it with my own eyes at a tournament this season. Those kids chanted “Donuts! Donuts!” after the game ended. Now THAT is how every little league game should end! 

If I could do anything this 4th of July, it would be the same thing I would choose any other year: spend one more day with my Papa. He has been gone since 2005, and I always think of him on July 4th because his birthday was the following day. 

Papa was a man who served in World War II, worked his entire life in his father-in-law’s pharmacy, and was an avid baseball fan. More importantly, he was married for 61 years to my grandmother and an amazing father and grandfather. 

These characteristics are worth celebrating on July 4th:  

Service

Our veterans demonstrate the American value of service at the highest level. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). 

Work

Working the same job for decade after decade takes grit. Both of my grandfathers exhibited this kind of grit and along with millions of others, built the fabric of a country worth celebrating on July 4th.  

Baseball 

“People will come Ray. They’ll come to Iowa for reasons they can’t even fathom….The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could be again.” 

Although the above is fiction from the movie “Field of Dreams,” I often look at baseball and am reminded of the progress of America. Perfect? Of course, not. But a work in progress just like our national pastime. 

Family

The most important of human relationships we have! America is best when we are best for those we most cherish. Building the family, keeping it secure, and making it a place of safety, frees people up to thrive. And this is worth celebrating on the 4th of July! 

While July 4th may have been a week ago, I still wish all the readers of this blog a Happy Fourth of July. Treasure your family, and make some memories over the summer. I will do the same as I remember Papa and dream of watching one more baseball game with him.

Random thoughts of a 41-year-old father of three (presently aged 6, 9, and 11)  

1. Tell your kids you love them with words. They still need to hear it. 
2. Walk close to your kids that want to walk close, and let your kids that want to walk ahead do so. Parenting is a simultaneous combination of closeness and looseness.   
3. Always point out what your kids are doing right on the sports field, in school, or at home. Positive affirmation will help them grow more than negative correction. 
4. Correct their character when it needs correction. This sounds contrary to number three, but it isn’t. Character is much deeper than “form” or “performance.”  
5. Loving their mom wholeheartedly may be the best way to serve your children. 
6. Hug your kids before bed every night. 
7. Explain the “why” behind the decisions you make. Help them to understand the decision-making process so they can use it themselves. 
8. Loosen the reins as they get older. Remind them that the reins are only loosened with trust but lead them in the transition from “rule-based obedience” to “personal discipline.” 
9. Cast a vision of what being an adult looks like — things like taking responsibility, leading yourself, and effectively managing money, among MANY other things we’ve talked about this year.
10. Model the joy of learning. Talk about what you are reading, listening to, and learning. 
11. Model the positive use of technology. Put your phone away during a one-on-one conversation, or explain why you are answering an email at a professional sports event. Obviously, the goal is not to be. But modeling how — and more importantly, why this is OCCASIONALLY (emphasis intended) necessary is essential as they prepare for a technology-dominated future.   
12. Demonstrate what a Sabbath looks like. The world is non-stop, so explain why and even how you rest. 
13. Humanize people in the news through the lens of grace. Try to explain opposing viewpoints in a way that gives them the proper respect. This is counter-cultural and Biblical. 
14. Try to make your kids laugh from time to time. I occasionally achieve this by talking in a funny voice (I do impersonations if I’m in the right mood!), gently poking fun at them, and talking trash when I dominate them in basement basketball. 
15. Tell them you love them with words. They still need to hear it. Yes, I am repeating number one, but this is the most important thing. So do it twice.