“Missions trip” has a certain connotation in religious circles, denoting a special status for what really should be viewed as an every day outlook on life. (Our pastor has said, “God will send you across the world, but He also wants to send you across the street.”) I suppose you could say Jesus went on the ultimate “missions trip” when He was sent to us. At one point during this mission He said, “I must be about my Father’s business.”

Later this week Tiger Lilly and the Reverend Mother will therefore be leaving on their own business trip to Romania, with a stop in Texas for some training and orientation on the way. It’s a trip that was researched and instigated about a year ago by Tiger Lilly through Global Expeditions. Some time after she had committed to go her mother was also led to join the group. TL was ready and willing to go it on her own with the Global Expeditions team, but is glad to have her favorite mom along. Despite being “just” 13, this is her second overseas trip, having gone with her mother to China for three weeks the summer before last. (Details here, here and here).

I hope Tiger Lilly will have time before they leave to put up a post on how and why she chose this trip and how she was able to raise enough money not only for this trip but to also set some aside for the next one, whenever or wherever that may be. She and the Reverend Mother are taking a wireless laptop along and the digital camera and should have relatively good access for posting as the trip goes on. Stay tuned.

Last Sunday our church prayed for our latest missionaries.

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The Sunday before the 4th the Mall Diva joined her cousin’s family up at their cabin near Crosby, MN. The plan was to spend a couple of days on ATVs, dirt bikes and paddle boats and then come back on the 4th so MD could be at work on the 5th. Her cousin drove.

Late Wednesday afternoon I got a message that the Diva and cousin were going to stay up in Crosby to watch the fireworks and then drive home — a 3-hour drive. Well, they missed a very fine fireworks display right in my living room when I got that word. Even without all the teenage drivers slaughtering themselves or being slaughtered by others on the roads at night lately, the thought of these youths driving home after midnight following a day of fun in the sun — and sharing the road with a bunch of other yahoos who had been enjoying fun in the sun and drinking — seemed like a spectacularly bad idea, especially with Al Gore’s kid on the loose.

Fortunately I had the numbers for just about every cell-phone up at that cabin and I left messages on a couple before I got through to the cousin, who just so happened to be right next to my daughter. My message was direct and well-received by MD; unfortunately she wasn’t the one with the car. No matter: “I will come and get you if you don’t have a ride,” I said, figuring I had enough time to get up there and back before midnight and I was well rested. A few minutes later she called back, letting me know they’d be heading home shortly. As it turned out, she was home by 11:00 without incident, though her cousin wasn’t especially pleased that my parental grappling hooks had so much reach. Believe me, I can live with it. I’m not afraid to be the bad guy for a good cause.

As much as MD and her cousin may have rolled their eyes at me, however, it cannot compare to how much I rolled my eyes at those clamoring for Minnesota to pass more laws restricting teen drivers, even though doing so put me – for probably the first and last time – on the same side as Minnesota legislator Tom Rukavina, though probably not for the same reasons. While the article I just linked to strongly suggests a correlation between Minnesota’s “scofflaw” (compared to other states) approach to driver restrictions and the amount of teenage carnage on our roads, I reject the knee-jerk reaction that three or four more laws are the best way to “do something.” That is precisely the type of useless do-goodism and deep-as-a-dogdish thinking that lets people feel good about themselves without addressing the underlying issues of personal and parental responsibility while at the same time promoting the all-caring, ever-expanding nanny state mentality.

That’s not to say that I don’t think teen drivers don’t need guidance and restrictions. Teens are not inherently bad drivers; they are, inescapably, less-experienced drivers. I agree, something must be done — and my wife and I did it. When the Mall Diva first started driving we placed our own “laws” on hours and passengers which were gradually reduced over the past two and a half years. Other expectations have also been communicated and she has demonstrated that she is a responsible and effective driver. And, as indicated above, we continue to take an active and involved interest in her driving (and riding) career, even if it’s wildly inconvenient. (We also put her in 3,000-pounds of sheet metal and we pray a lot). I know MD totally believed me when I said I would come and get her, and not out of reproach but from commitment.

I recognize that that isn’t always enough to keep our children safe, and my heart goes out the the parents who have suffered these wracking losses this year. More laws, however, aren’t a guarantee either. One of the legislators in favor of more laws framed it in terms of “giving parents better tools.” Well, thank you very much, but my tools work just fine, especially when I use them. (I wonder how many of those legislators that want to “help parents” by restricting teens who want to drive are just as adamant about there not being any parental involvement or restrictions on teens that want abortions.) I suppose some parents might feel their position is strengthened if they can cite the law as if the matter was out of their hands. If your children aren’t going to listen to you (who they have to face every day), however, I don’t know if they’ll adhere to a law.

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Huzzah! I’ve hired a new minion at the office which means the deluge of work I’ve been dealing with will eventually diminish back down to, say, what bursts out of a fire hydrant. So what is it about this happy event that sparks a headline like the one above? It’s a simple explanation, really, and one that may also “explain” why our family is the way it is.

With the new person about to come on board I’ve had to refamiliarize myself with some of the benefit options that are available from my company. This, in turn, reminded me of when I started a job with another company several years ago. At the dinner table I was discussing what benefits I had signed up for with my wife and mentioned that part of the life insurance package included a $10,000 benefit on the kids.

The Mall Diva, who was about five at the time, piped up, saying something like, “What’s that all about?”

“Well,” I said, matter-of-factly, “it just means that if you die, Mom and I get some money.”

“No fair. I should get the money.”

“No, you’ll be dead and Mom and I will get the money in case we want to buy a puppy or something because we’re lonely.”

The little Diva thought about this for a couple of moments.

“Well, what if you die?”

“Then you and Mom get a lot of money.”

“So, how will we know?”

“How will you know what?”

“If you’re dead.”

“Oh, well you’ll just come in some time and I’ll be laying on the floor with my hands and feet curled up in the air like a dead cockroach.”

As it turned out, mother and daughter went out that evening to run some errands while I flopped on the couch in the living room to read. Later, when I heard them coming back in through the kitchen, I quickly rolled off the couch and assumed the position described above before MD could skip into the room.

“Da-DEEE!” said the Diva in her “not funny!” tone.

My wife, still in the kitchen, simply said, “I’m not even going to look.”

Several months later I became sick enough at work to have to come home. Coincidentally, the little Diva also got sick and had to come home and join me. We were lolling around on my bed in medicated apathy when we heard my wife coming in through the back door.

“Daddy – let’s do cockroaches!”

We quickly drew ourselves up into position, side by side, waiting for my wife to come down the hall to check on us (this is a very difficult position to hold when you’ve been throwing up, by the way, even more so when a little girl is shaking next to you trying to control her snickering).

My wife finally came to the bedroom door and locked in on us: “OH NO!” she gasped. “My family is dead!”

I can’t remember if she said anything about getting a puppy.

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