On raising intellectuals

“Bonhoeffer was a remarkably independent thinker, especially for one so young. Some professors regarded him as arrogant, especially because he refused to come too directly under the influence of one of them, always preffering to maintain his distance. But someone who grew up dining with Karl Bonhoeffer, and who was allowed to speak only when he could justify every syllable, had probably developed a certain intellectual confidence and may be somewhat excused if he was not intimidated by other great minds.” Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy (page 62). Written by Eric Metaxas

“…Then his mother weighed in, suggesting that perhaps he should study under Holl, the Luther expert, and write his dissertation on dogmatics after Seeberg was out of the picture. As the daughter of a respected theologian and the granddaughter of a world-famous one, she likely had more to say on this subject than any mother in Germany. The intellect of both Bonhoeffer parents and their interest in their son’s academic progress are remarkable, and we can hardly wonder at his closeness to them.” Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy (page 63).

Actual conversations heard in my house:

Sloan to Lee: “Hey Dad.” Pulls off his shirt and flexes his muscles. “How do you pop your pecs?”

Lee: “Well, son. Pec popping is a pretty well defined science. It’s really not to be attempted without intense training and a lot of dedicated practice.

Tia: “Can I feel your pecs while you pop them, Dad?”

Lee: “No. Because that’s weird.”


“Hey, Mom, look at this,” said the child who shall remain unnamed. “Look how far I can put this finger up my nose.” Shoves pointer finger up nose.

Me: “Hmmm…not bad, and that’s not even your biggest finger…now please don’t do that at the dinner table.”


We are just like the Bonhoeffers…


  1. Only with a shorter last name…do tell whoever was going boogie-hunting that, if they poke too far up their nose, they might damage their brain and, thus, their intellectual ability.

  2. In our house it is not the finger, but the tongue….instead of the giraffe pictured here, picture my blond haired blue eyed handsome boy doing this….Ewww!

    ( I hope the link to the picture works – I’ve borrowed it from Google images but it ties back to jennymatlock.blogspot.com to give proper credit [not me])


  3. Sounds like the same conversations that have happened here! 🙂

  4. So funny!! I’ve read that passage and thought the same thing about my family, particularly when my husband was teaching my daughter to put the napkin rings in her eyes to look like an old man…. At thanksgiving dinner.