Monday, October 31, 2005
Halloween and Hallowed Ground
Halloween brings different emotions to my life. First, we stopped celebrating it in any way many years ago. I don't say that in any way to judge those who continue to celebrate it ... just a family decision we made with our children when they were small. Rather than the trick or treat stuff, we'd take them out to their favorite restaurant that evening and treat them to whatever they wanted. They were never really into the costume stuff anyway. And, a family down the street scared the bejeebers out of them one year when the lady had a black cauldron w/ dry ice in it and she dressed as a witch, complete with recorded screams in the background. Halloween that year lasted a total of about 8 houses from our next door neighbor to her house. That was enough to break us from Halloween.
Too, in 1989 on Halloween, we buried my father in a small family cemetery in north Alabama. Same place where we buried mom just a few short months ago. We found out then, that the "plots" we purchased were actually a part of the pauper's land dedicated to free burials ... which sort of fits since dad had been out of work for about 2 years (due to his illness) when he died and we pretty much were paupers at the time. But that ground in Piney Grove Cemetery is hallowed ground for us. Not only are mom and dad there, but several other family members on mom's side. Her grandfather deeded the land to build a church in that little mountain top community and to dedicate a cemetery. His direct descendents are able to purchase lots for $5 a piece. I tore a $20 bill out of my wallet several years ago to purchase four lots for my family, though we'll probably never use them. I may be able double my money in years to come!
I don't have particularly depressing memories of that time in my life. Dad and I were never really close, but we didn't have an adversarial relationship either, for which I'm ever thankful. He was just someone in my life ... and that made me very intentional about being more than just "someone in my life" to my children. It was a cold, rainy time in 1989 when we carried his casket up the mountain to bury him ... a cold, rainy time in mom's heart as well. She mourned his death until her own, some 16 years later.
So Halloween, for various reasons, is more of a somber, reflective day in my life. With the children now grown and pretty much on their own, it's become just another day in October. But every now and then, and just for a short duration, there is a bit of sadness in my heart. Though we weren't particularly close ... he was still Dad. And it's a difficult day when one must bury a father.
I wrote this blog last week. This evening (Sunday) our church had an autumn festival and what a crowd we had! Started with about 45 minutes of worship (four singers, guitars, banjo, madolin) that was very good. Then pizza dinner, costume parade (I came as a member of the band), pumpkin carving awards, arts and crafts, games, and ending with the children getting treats in each of the classrooms. I left early, not feeling all that well, but having thoroughly enjoyed the evening with my church family. Even had a young mother with two children who visited this morning, returned this evening and said she thinks she found a church family. I love days like this!
Too, in 1989 on Halloween, we buried my father in a small family cemetery in north Alabama. Same place where we buried mom just a few short months ago. We found out then, that the "plots" we purchased were actually a part of the pauper's land dedicated to free burials ... which sort of fits since dad had been out of work for about 2 years (due to his illness) when he died and we pretty much were paupers at the time. But that ground in Piney Grove Cemetery is hallowed ground for us. Not only are mom and dad there, but several other family members on mom's side. Her grandfather deeded the land to build a church in that little mountain top community and to dedicate a cemetery. His direct descendents are able to purchase lots for $5 a piece. I tore a $20 bill out of my wallet several years ago to purchase four lots for my family, though we'll probably never use them. I may be able double my money in years to come!
I don't have particularly depressing memories of that time in my life. Dad and I were never really close, but we didn't have an adversarial relationship either, for which I'm ever thankful. He was just someone in my life ... and that made me very intentional about being more than just "someone in my life" to my children. It was a cold, rainy time in 1989 when we carried his casket up the mountain to bury him ... a cold, rainy time in mom's heart as well. She mourned his death until her own, some 16 years later.
So Halloween, for various reasons, is more of a somber, reflective day in my life. With the children now grown and pretty much on their own, it's become just another day in October. But every now and then, and just for a short duration, there is a bit of sadness in my heart. Though we weren't particularly close ... he was still Dad. And it's a difficult day when one must bury a father.
I wrote this blog last week. This evening (Sunday) our church had an autumn festival and what a crowd we had! Started with about 45 minutes of worship (four singers, guitars, banjo, madolin) that was very good. Then pizza dinner, costume parade (I came as a member of the band), pumpkin carving awards, arts and crafts, games, and ending with the children getting treats in each of the classrooms. I left early, not feeling all that well, but having thoroughly enjoyed the evening with my church family. Even had a young mother with two children who visited this morning, returned this evening and said she thinks she found a church family. I love days like this!
Friday, October 28, 2005
Things & Stuff
I'm in the process of boxing up a set of Remo marching quads (drums) to send to a friend. (FYI: FedEx is a much cheaper way to ship things than UPS or USPS.) It took me a few years to convince Josh he would never play these drums again. We got them about 10 years ago and he used them a year, before deciding he needed the top of the line marching quads. So we got the Yamahas for his final two years of high school marching band.
He has drums like I have guitars ... or, at least he had drums like I have guitars. Two full rock sets w/ cymbals and hardware and two sets of marching quads, not to mention several Latin percussion drums and a Djembe African drum (which is a sweetheart of a drum). He finally agreed last year to give me the old set of drums; he'd keep the Yamaha marching quads and the top of the line Tama set he uses in our church praise band. We use the old set for rehearsal and I will use them in my retirement. I'm gonna have to do something!
Jessica has boxes of stuff from her room that she's done without for two years and probably doesn't even have a clue what's in them. But try and convince her to go through it ... or, better yet, to let us sell it off. Blasphemy! I suspect she doesn't want us to sell it because she just doesn't want to take the time to look through it all. But I could be wrong, being as I think from a male perspective and she's probably looking at it all through some latent maternal sense, of which I know nothing.
Janice, bless her heart, doesn't have much to discard because I spend all our money on instruments! So I'll give her a pass on this one.
We do have a huge tent (12 x 20 for camping) as well as a screen house that we'll never use again. I have who-knows-how-many tools I would use if my back would allow it, but will never use again. Mostly for working on cars before they computerized cars and mounted the engines sideways, not to mention using nuts and bolts that no longer fit my wrenches. The kids have boxes of "things and stuff" they don't want, don't need and refuse to discard. I need to go through the 2,000+ books in my office and weed out the ones I'll never read, or have read and no longer need ... not to mention the ones that were a part of my legalistic days.
I know some of you are thinking I could get rid of a few guitars and amps as well. Or perhaps some Three Stooges stuff, to which I can only reply: Shame on you! But we seriously need to have a yard sale some time soon and clean out the garage and the classroom we are using at the church for personal storage. Who knows, we might make enough money to buy another......
So what are some things & stuff in your life that you need to discard and simply can't bring yourself to do so? I need to know there are others out there with this malady ... that it's not just me! So 'fess up and let's hear it.
He has drums like I have guitars ... or, at least he had drums like I have guitars. Two full rock sets w/ cymbals and hardware and two sets of marching quads, not to mention several Latin percussion drums and a Djembe African drum (which is a sweetheart of a drum). He finally agreed last year to give me the old set of drums; he'd keep the Yamaha marching quads and the top of the line Tama set he uses in our church praise band. We use the old set for rehearsal and I will use them in my retirement. I'm gonna have to do something!
Jessica has boxes of stuff from her room that she's done without for two years and probably doesn't even have a clue what's in them. But try and convince her to go through it ... or, better yet, to let us sell it off. Blasphemy! I suspect she doesn't want us to sell it because she just doesn't want to take the time to look through it all. But I could be wrong, being as I think from a male perspective and she's probably looking at it all through some latent maternal sense, of which I know nothing.
Janice, bless her heart, doesn't have much to discard because I spend all our money on instruments! So I'll give her a pass on this one.
We do have a huge tent (12 x 20 for camping) as well as a screen house that we'll never use again. I have who-knows-how-many tools I would use if my back would allow it, but will never use again. Mostly for working on cars before they computerized cars and mounted the engines sideways, not to mention using nuts and bolts that no longer fit my wrenches. The kids have boxes of "things and stuff" they don't want, don't need and refuse to discard. I need to go through the 2,000+ books in my office and weed out the ones I'll never read, or have read and no longer need ... not to mention the ones that were a part of my legalistic days.
I know some of you are thinking I could get rid of a few guitars and amps as well. Or perhaps some Three Stooges stuff, to which I can only reply: Shame on you! But we seriously need to have a yard sale some time soon and clean out the garage and the classroom we are using at the church for personal storage. Who knows, we might make enough money to buy another......
So what are some things & stuff in your life that you need to discard and simply can't bring yourself to do so? I need to know there are others out there with this malady ... that it's not just me! So 'fess up and let's hear it.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Demented Mind, again...
As if you didn't get enough earlier, here are some additional thoughts from the mind of the demented one, Steven Wright:
I didn't get a toy train like the other kids. I got a toy subway instead. You couldn't see anything, but every now and then you'd hear this rumbling noise go by.
I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
There's a pizza place near where I live that sells only slices. In the back you can see a guy tossing a triangle in the air.
I was in the supermarket the other day, and I met a lady in the aisle where they keep the generic brands. Her name was 'Woman'.
When I woke up this morning, my girlfriend asked me, "Did you sleep good?" I said, "No, I made a few mistakes."
My dental hygienist is cute. Every time I visit, I eat a whole package of Oreo cookies while I'm in the waiting room. Sometimes she has to cancel the rest of the afternoon's appointments.
I'm writing an unauthorized autobiography.
Right now I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.
I went down the street to the 24-hour grocery. When I got there, the guy was locking the front door. I said, "Hey, the sign says you're open 24 hours." He said, "Yes, but not in a row."
I knew a guy who was a clown. When he died, all his friends went to the funeral in one car.
I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.
The other day, I was walking my dog around my building ... on the ledge. Some people are afraid of heights. Not me. I'm afraid of widths.
I spilled spot remover on my dog. He's gone now.
My grandfather likes to give me advise, but he's a little forgetful. One day, he took me aside and left me there.
I'm at SeaWorld at a seafood restaurant. I'm halfway through my fish burger when I realize, "Oh no! I could be eating a slow learner!"
I'm a peripheral visionary. I see far into the future ... just way off to one side.
The other day, I went to a tourist information booth and asked, "Tell me about some of the people who were here last year."
I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specifically.
I went to a restaurant that serves "Breakfast At Any Time." So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.
I was born by Cesarean Section. But not so you'd notice. It's just that when I leave the house, I go out through the window.
When I was little, my grandfather used to make me stand in a closet for five minutes without moving. He said it was elevator practice.
I've been doing a lot of abstract painting lately, extremely abstract. No brush, no paint, no canvas. I just think about it.
When I die, I'm leaving my body to science fiction.
I bought this thing for my car. You put it on your car, it sends out this little noise, so when you drive through the woods, deer won't run in front of your car. I installed it backwards by accident. Now I drive down the street with a herd of deer chasing me.
My girlfriend and I went on a picnic. I don't know how she did it, but she got poison ivy on the brain. When it itched, the only way she could scratch it was to think about sandpaper.
My watch is three hours fast and I can't fix it, so I'm going to move to New York.
When I was a little kid we had a sand box. It was a quicksand box. I was an only child ... eventually.
I didn't get a toy train like the other kids. I got a toy subway instead. You couldn't see anything, but every now and then you'd hear this rumbling noise go by.
I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
There's a pizza place near where I live that sells only slices. In the back you can see a guy tossing a triangle in the air.
I was in the supermarket the other day, and I met a lady in the aisle where they keep the generic brands. Her name was 'Woman'.
When I woke up this morning, my girlfriend asked me, "Did you sleep good?" I said, "No, I made a few mistakes."
My dental hygienist is cute. Every time I visit, I eat a whole package of Oreo cookies while I'm in the waiting room. Sometimes she has to cancel the rest of the afternoon's appointments.
I'm writing an unauthorized autobiography.
Right now I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.
I went down the street to the 24-hour grocery. When I got there, the guy was locking the front door. I said, "Hey, the sign says you're open 24 hours." He said, "Yes, but not in a row."
I knew a guy who was a clown. When he died, all his friends went to the funeral in one car.
I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.
The other day, I was walking my dog around my building ... on the ledge. Some people are afraid of heights. Not me. I'm afraid of widths.
I spilled spot remover on my dog. He's gone now.
My grandfather likes to give me advise, but he's a little forgetful. One day, he took me aside and left me there.
I'm at SeaWorld at a seafood restaurant. I'm halfway through my fish burger when I realize, "Oh no! I could be eating a slow learner!"
I'm a peripheral visionary. I see far into the future ... just way off to one side.
The other day, I went to a tourist information booth and asked, "Tell me about some of the people who were here last year."
I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specifically.
I went to a restaurant that serves "Breakfast At Any Time." So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.
I was born by Cesarean Section. But not so you'd notice. It's just that when I leave the house, I go out through the window.
When I was little, my grandfather used to make me stand in a closet for five minutes without moving. He said it was elevator practice.
I've been doing a lot of abstract painting lately, extremely abstract. No brush, no paint, no canvas. I just think about it.
When I die, I'm leaving my body to science fiction.
I bought this thing for my car. You put it on your car, it sends out this little noise, so when you drive through the woods, deer won't run in front of your car. I installed it backwards by accident. Now I drive down the street with a herd of deer chasing me.
My girlfriend and I went on a picnic. I don't know how she did it, but she got poison ivy on the brain. When it itched, the only way she could scratch it was to think about sandpaper.
My watch is three hours fast and I can't fix it, so I'm going to move to New York.
When I was a little kid we had a sand box. It was a quicksand box. I was an only child ... eventually.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Normal ... Not-so Normal
Janice and I were having lunch today (we typically have lunch together every day) at one of the gormet fast food dives: Jack-n-the-Box (JitB). Food's not that great, but it's a quick in and out and she doesn't have that much time for lunch and I don't have that much money. You know, with all the guitar and amp expenses in my life.
Today was the day a group of developmentally challenged adults paid JitB a visit. They were rather loud in their conversation, but otherwise well-behaved. One was asleep at the table. Another was walking around "visiting" with other patrons. Actually, he was just walking around, looking customers eye-to-eye and giving them a huge smile. Occasionally he would laugh at one of us. Pretty harmless in and of itself, just not what you want to encounter at a gormet fast food dive. It was a fascinating 20 minutes of one aspect of human behavior.
I don't intend this to in any way be a slap at the developmentally challenged among us. We have a nephew that is developmentally challenged and we love him dearly. He brings a lot of joy to our lives when we get to spend time with him. When Josh was finishing up his senior year in college, we ate lunch together 2 or 3 days a week, and I'd often drive out with him to Cerritos Mall where there was a Chick-Fil-A in the food court. Seems we almost always had lunch there when another group of developmentally challenged adults were there. We almost felt a part of the group! I want to believe they actually looked for us on the days we weren't there!
Years ago I worked with mentally retarded (an acceptable term prior to political correctness) adults for Alabama State Mental Health. If I learned anything during that time it was that there is a fine (at times, a very fine) line between what we consider normal and what we consider retarded. In certain aspects of their lives, they would behave very normally. I've wondered over the years just how many times I've crossed that thin line to behave rather retarded? Probably more often than I would care to admit.
Just some thoughts as I enjoyed another amazingly plain lunch.
Today was the day a group of developmentally challenged adults paid JitB a visit. They were rather loud in their conversation, but otherwise well-behaved. One was asleep at the table. Another was walking around "visiting" with other patrons. Actually, he was just walking around, looking customers eye-to-eye and giving them a huge smile. Occasionally he would laugh at one of us. Pretty harmless in and of itself, just not what you want to encounter at a gormet fast food dive. It was a fascinating 20 minutes of one aspect of human behavior.
I don't intend this to in any way be a slap at the developmentally challenged among us. We have a nephew that is developmentally challenged and we love him dearly. He brings a lot of joy to our lives when we get to spend time with him. When Josh was finishing up his senior year in college, we ate lunch together 2 or 3 days a week, and I'd often drive out with him to Cerritos Mall where there was a Chick-Fil-A in the food court. Seems we almost always had lunch there when another group of developmentally challenged adults were there. We almost felt a part of the group! I want to believe they actually looked for us on the days we weren't there!
Years ago I worked with mentally retarded (an acceptable term prior to political correctness) adults for Alabama State Mental Health. If I learned anything during that time it was that there is a fine (at times, a very fine) line between what we consider normal and what we consider retarded. In certain aspects of their lives, they would behave very normally. I've wondered over the years just how many times I've crossed that thin line to behave rather retarded? Probably more often than I would care to admit.
Just some thoughts as I enjoyed another amazingly plain lunch.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Things to Ponder . . . ?
Well ... so much for the blog-storm with pet stories! Sorry this blog is late, I overslept. :)
What better way to start the week (this would have been Monday's blog, but I re-blogged the donut theme for Randy) than some off-the-wall thoughts from the demented mind of Steven Wright? Here are some things to ponder when you have nothing better to do with your time. Being a preacher, I ponder a lot!
How do you get off of a non-stop flight?
What happens if you put a slinky on an escalator?
If a person with multiple personalities threatens suicide, is that considered a hostage situation?
Is "tired old cliche" one?
If a mute kid swears, should his mother wash his hands with soap?
Was it somebody's cruel idea to put an "S" in the word lisp?
Should crematoriums give discounts to burn victims?
If it's zero degrees outside today and it's supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?
Is it true cannibals don't eat clowns because they taste funny?
Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?
Do radioactive cats have eighteen half-lives?
Is is possible to be totally partial?
If you're cross-eyed and have dyslexia, can you see okay?
For Randy and Reece: If a jogger runs at the speed of sound, can he still hear his iPod?
If man evolved from monkeys and apes, why do we still have monkeys and apes?
If a mime is arrested, do they tell him he has the right to talk?
Why doesn't the fattest man in the world become a hockey goalie?
How can there be self-help "groups"?
Can you buy an entire chess set at a pawn shop?
Why is it illegal to park in a handicapped parking spot, but okay to go to the bathroom in a handicapped stall?
Why do they use sterile needles for lethal injections?
And finally, Why are there Braille dots on the keypads at drive-up ATMs?
BTW: If you figure any of these out, don't bother to respond ... it will just spoil it for the rest of us.
What better way to start the week (this would have been Monday's blog, but I re-blogged the donut theme for Randy) than some off-the-wall thoughts from the demented mind of Steven Wright? Here are some things to ponder when you have nothing better to do with your time. Being a preacher, I ponder a lot!
How do you get off of a non-stop flight?
What happens if you put a slinky on an escalator?
If a person with multiple personalities threatens suicide, is that considered a hostage situation?
Is "tired old cliche" one?
If a mute kid swears, should his mother wash his hands with soap?
Was it somebody's cruel idea to put an "S" in the word lisp?
Should crematoriums give discounts to burn victims?
If it's zero degrees outside today and it's supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?
Is it true cannibals don't eat clowns because they taste funny?
Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?
Do radioactive cats have eighteen half-lives?
Is is possible to be totally partial?
If you're cross-eyed and have dyslexia, can you see okay?
For Randy and Reece: If a jogger runs at the speed of sound, can he still hear his iPod?
If man evolved from monkeys and apes, why do we still have monkeys and apes?
If a mime is arrested, do they tell him he has the right to talk?
Why doesn't the fattest man in the world become a hockey goalie?
How can there be self-help "groups"?
Can you buy an entire chess set at a pawn shop?
Why is it illegal to park in a handicapped parking spot, but okay to go to the bathroom in a handicapped stall?
Why do they use sterile needles for lethal injections?
And finally, Why are there Braille dots on the keypads at drive-up ATMs?
BTW: If you figure any of these out, don't bother to respond ... it will just spoil it for the rest of us.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Sunday Donuts
We had a busy Saturday evening and Sunday morning came just a bit too early for me. Janice asked if I would go get some donuts. Interpreted: I'm not fixing breakfast. But I didn't need that interpretation because we don't fix breakfast on Sunday mornings. Or Monday through Friday. So I told her I'd go pick up a dozen. It's a nasty job, but I'm glad to be able to meet people's needs at a time such as this.
Those of you who know Josh, know he has some very taste-specific ideas as to what should be considered edible and what is definitely non-edible. Most foods that normal people eat are on his non-edible list. He does, however, like gormet donuts (which makes a father's heart proud). By that he means glazed donuts that are then iced a second time with chocolate, which I understand is an effective inhibitor of certain chemicals that cause cancer. Even if it isn't, a person should eat massive amounts of chocolate for no other reason than God graced us with the ability to treat ourselves with chocolate.
I place my order, which is basically useless because the people at Angel's Donuts know me so well that if I drive up, they hand me a cinnamon roll and if I walk in they ask how many special chocolate donuts I want! Is that customer service, or what? So while I'm awaiting my special order, another man walks in with a "grocery list" of mixed donuts. I was impressed. He was a bit embarrassed, explaining to me that he is only following directions from the missus (wife for those non-southerners reading this). I told him at least he was buying donuts from the case whereas I was having some special made. I think he was relieved not to have to get donuts for my son. I also wonder why he thought it necessary to explain to me why he was buying such a mixed variety. But some people are friendlier than I.
As he was leaving, a grandfather came in with his granddaughter ... she picked out the one she wanted and he got a sack full to maintain his obesity. As they left, she decided she would rather have the sack with lots of donuts rather than the sack with her one choice. I didn't hear the outcome of that conversation, but my guess is she got the short sack.
Most any morning in a donut shop is a good morning, but there is something special about a Sunday morning in a donut shop. Sort of gets me into a worshipful mindset. I happen to think I preach better with a gormet donut (or two) under my belt.
Those of you who know Josh, know he has some very taste-specific ideas as to what should be considered edible and what is definitely non-edible. Most foods that normal people eat are on his non-edible list. He does, however, like gormet donuts (which makes a father's heart proud). By that he means glazed donuts that are then iced a second time with chocolate, which I understand is an effective inhibitor of certain chemicals that cause cancer. Even if it isn't, a person should eat massive amounts of chocolate for no other reason than God graced us with the ability to treat ourselves with chocolate.
I place my order, which is basically useless because the people at Angel's Donuts know me so well that if I drive up, they hand me a cinnamon roll and if I walk in they ask how many special chocolate donuts I want! Is that customer service, or what? So while I'm awaiting my special order, another man walks in with a "grocery list" of mixed donuts. I was impressed. He was a bit embarrassed, explaining to me that he is only following directions from the missus (wife for those non-southerners reading this). I told him at least he was buying donuts from the case whereas I was having some special made. I think he was relieved not to have to get donuts for my son. I also wonder why he thought it necessary to explain to me why he was buying such a mixed variety. But some people are friendlier than I.
As he was leaving, a grandfather came in with his granddaughter ... she picked out the one she wanted and he got a sack full to maintain his obesity. As they left, she decided she would rather have the sack with lots of donuts rather than the sack with her one choice. I didn't hear the outcome of that conversation, but my guess is she got the short sack.
Most any morning in a donut shop is a good morning, but there is something special about a Sunday morning in a donut shop. Sort of gets me into a worshipful mindset. I happen to think I preach better with a gormet donut (or two) under my belt.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Feisty
I have no idea what kind of blog-storm this may incite, but we all have pet stories and our friend, Meowmix, had to have her pet of 18 years put to sleep this week. A feline child by the name of Muffin. I shared a story with her that I decided to share w/ my blog family.We've had to put pets to sleep or bury them when they got killed on many occasions, but the most painful was a little dog by the name of Feisty. I don't know how long we'd had her (I suspect well over 15 years), but she was a great dog and we loved her very much. She was a one-of-a-kind, extremely rare breed, certified leaf retriever. We first got her while living in Orlando, but moved her with us to Montgomery, Alabama. In a neighborhood filled with trees, Feisty would spend her days going to the neighbor's yards and bringing as many of their leaves as possible into our yard. Never once took a leaf from our yard to their's. Go figure.
We lived near a shopping center and my younger brother, Rex, went down to the shopping center when they were sponsoring some kind of carnival. Unfortunately, Feisty followed him. I don't think he was aware that Feisty had followed him because he got on a ride that was basically a swinging cage and when the cage he was in came over on it's full swing, Feisty was on the ground under the swing and it crushed her to death.
Rex came home, tears streaming down his face, blood all over him, holding the lifeless body of Feisty in his arms. He rang the doorbell and Dad answered the door. It was one of the few times our dad ever openly shed a tear. He cried a lot that afternoon. I was away from home at the time, but the news crushed me. Even today, over 30 years after the fact, I find my throat tightening and tears welling up in my eyes just writing about it.
I'm grateful God gives us animals as pets. As you well know, Chipper brings great joy to my life while, at the same time, is the most useless creature that ever drew a breath. I've never cared much for cats because I'm allergic to them and they are very narcissistic beings (as if Chipper isn't), but if I lived close enough I would go by Meowmix's house and give her a hug. It's a difficult thing to give up a pet. Almost as difficult as giving up a person in your life.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Growing Up
First: Condolences to all Angels and Cardinals fans out there. Oh well, maybe next year ... right? I'm pulling for Chicago for no other reason than their manager was once an Atlanta Brave. That and I don't care much for Texas. Just wondering ... did Pujols keep the Cardinals alive, or did he just prolong their agony? I was hoping they would come back and stay alive. I don't always get what I hope for.
Yesterday I blogged about some letters Elaine gave me earlier this month while in Nashville together. Another item in the box she brought to me was a cassette tape made in February of 1987. Jessica had just turned two and my dad had just learned he had terminal cancer, though we think he knew about it long before he let us in on the news.
Anyway, Jessica was just starting to talk enough to understand some of her words (and did she have the cutest lisp and southern accent!) so we decided to record a tape and send it to Papa ... hoping to cheer him up. Listening 18 years later sure cheered me up, except for my incredibly southern drawl! I'm sure glad to have finally outgrown that drawl.
It also left me reflecting on the years that have so quickly passed and the changes in our little girl, not to mention that high pitched voice of her "big" brother ... all of maybe 5 years old. The little girl is now living on her own ... junior in college ... impacting lives in her unique way ... spiritually challenging her preacher-dad ... and still bringing incredible joy to her mom and dad. The high-pitched speaking little boy with a definite drawl is now in a new chapter of his life: Heather. A sweet-heart of a second grade teacher who lives about 90 miles from here. I'll say more about this when and if they ever give me permission!
Maybe one reason we so detest "change" in the church is because of all the changes in life over which we have no control! It's of some comfort to have at least one aspect of our lives remain rather constant. How sad it would be if, 18 years later, Jessica were still speaking on a 2-year-old level with her sweet lisp and Josh, 24-years-old and holding a professional job still sounded and thought like a 5-year-old! We love the memories but we want our children to mature and enjoy the other chapters of their lives ... as mature adults, not as infants and children.
God wants the same for us (cf. Eph.4:12 - 13). How sad for God's children to resist practically any and all change simply because we find it uncomfortable. He delights in seeing us grow up just as we delight in seeing our children grow up. But it will only happen when we abandon the throne of our hearts to the rightful occupant: The Holy Spirit.
Yesterday I blogged about some letters Elaine gave me earlier this month while in Nashville together. Another item in the box she brought to me was a cassette tape made in February of 1987. Jessica had just turned two and my dad had just learned he had terminal cancer, though we think he knew about it long before he let us in on the news.
Anyway, Jessica was just starting to talk enough to understand some of her words (and did she have the cutest lisp and southern accent!) so we decided to record a tape and send it to Papa ... hoping to cheer him up. Listening 18 years later sure cheered me up, except for my incredibly southern drawl! I'm sure glad to have finally outgrown that drawl.
It also left me reflecting on the years that have so quickly passed and the changes in our little girl, not to mention that high pitched voice of her "big" brother ... all of maybe 5 years old. The little girl is now living on her own ... junior in college ... impacting lives in her unique way ... spiritually challenging her preacher-dad ... and still bringing incredible joy to her mom and dad. The high-pitched speaking little boy with a definite drawl is now in a new chapter of his life: Heather. A sweet-heart of a second grade teacher who lives about 90 miles from here. I'll say more about this when and if they ever give me permission!
Maybe one reason we so detest "change" in the church is because of all the changes in life over which we have no control! It's of some comfort to have at least one aspect of our lives remain rather constant. How sad it would be if, 18 years later, Jessica were still speaking on a 2-year-old level with her sweet lisp and Josh, 24-years-old and holding a professional job still sounded and thought like a 5-year-old! We love the memories but we want our children to mature and enjoy the other chapters of their lives ... as mature adults, not as infants and children.
God wants the same for us (cf. Eph.4:12 - 13). How sad for God's children to resist practically any and all change simply because we find it uncomfortable. He delights in seeing us grow up just as we delight in seeing our children grow up. But it will only happen when we abandon the throne of our hearts to the rightful occupant: The Holy Spirit.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Just a Phone Call
While in Nashville for the Gibson guitar seminar (held at both Gibson Guitar Factory and the Guitar Center ... with an occasional off-campus session at Woodmont Hills Church), my sister gave me a box full of pictures, letters, and miscellaneous items that belonged to mom. Mostly stuff we had sent her over the years.
However, there were three letters mom wrote at various times to basically express her emotions. One day in particular she was very depressed and wrote her feelings intermingled with her pleas to God. Her respite was Sunday. She lived for Sundays with her church family. Another was about my dad's last few hours on this earth. And one had to do with dad's last few hours, but written five years to the day that he died.
In the letter she mentioned how much phone calls and messages left on her answering machine and cards had meant to her during that very difficult time. She mentioned that I called her at 7 that morning, with the comment, "Greg is always so thoughtful." That surprised me! I don't think of myself as one who is "always so thoughtful." More times than not, I think of things I should have done to encourage someone but failed to do. Visits I could have made and put them off. Letters I thought of writing, but failed to ever write.
I was glad, though, on that particular October morning in 1992, I was among those who called mom. So I'm wondering ... whom do you need to call? Or write? Or visit? Or pray for? I would be interested in hearing from you, but it would be more efficacious for you to make the call, or write the letter, or send the card, or make the visit, then write a response!
You may not know until 15 years later just how much it meant to that person! And, as always, thanks for making this a part of your day.
However, there were three letters mom wrote at various times to basically express her emotions. One day in particular she was very depressed and wrote her feelings intermingled with her pleas to God. Her respite was Sunday. She lived for Sundays with her church family. Another was about my dad's last few hours on this earth. And one had to do with dad's last few hours, but written five years to the day that he died.
In the letter she mentioned how much phone calls and messages left on her answering machine and cards had meant to her during that very difficult time. She mentioned that I called her at 7 that morning, with the comment, "Greg is always so thoughtful." That surprised me! I don't think of myself as one who is "always so thoughtful." More times than not, I think of things I should have done to encourage someone but failed to do. Visits I could have made and put them off. Letters I thought of writing, but failed to ever write.
I was glad, though, on that particular October morning in 1992, I was among those who called mom. So I'm wondering ... whom do you need to call? Or write? Or visit? Or pray for? I would be interested in hearing from you, but it would be more efficacious for you to make the call, or write the letter, or send the card, or make the visit, then write a response!
You may not know until 15 years later just how much it meant to that person! And, as always, thanks for making this a part of your day.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Prayer Request
Not much happened on this end Monday ... but there is a serious prayer request on my friend, Keith Davis', blog site. You can link to him on my site. Please go there ... read the request ... and keep this family in your prayers!
Thanks.
Thanks.
Random Ramblings ... again
I suppose if last Thursday was National Day of Prayer for Steve, today would be a day of sackcloth, ashes, and gut-wrenching mourning for our Fresno brother with the L. A. Angels dropping their final game of the year to Chicago. If it were a perfect world (curses to Eve and her serpent-guide), the Braves would still be in the contest and the Angels would still be the California Angels!
Carolyn, the lady we were called to pray for last week (she had the still-born baby and was unconcscious for several days), regained consciousness on Friday and asked her husband if he'd paid the pool bill. (They are having an inground pool installed at their new house.) That pretty well answered the doctor's questions as to whether or not she would awaken and have her normal mental capacity! We praise God along with her family. What an honor to be with them twice to lift them up to the Father's throne.
Speaking of prayers ... our friends, Beth and Ken Dean, need prayers--not that the rest of us don't! They succeeded in their latest attempt at in vitro pregnancy, but have had a set back today. Without saying more, just lift them up to God. They are good people and would make wonderful parents. They are, however, placing it all in God's hands and trying to brace themselves for one of the possible answers.
I was asked last week to do a memorial service for the mother of a friend of a friend. I've written about Kim and Burt in earlier blogs. Since giving their lives to Christ last Christmas, they have grown by leaps and bounds. The mother of one of Kim's best friends from her past life of alcohol and drugs died unexpectedly following surgery and Kim asked if I would have a memorial service for her. We held the service Saturday morning and I'm waiting to see how God is going to work through this ... I have full confidence he will. Kim's friends noticed immediately a huge difference in her life and she was thrilled to share her testimony. She told me this morning that so many of them were very appreciative of the service and "that guy that did it" ... so who knows where this will lead? I spend a rather sleepless night Friday trying to pull together some thoughts that would point them toward God without being too preachy or overbearing. You know, that whole "letting your light shine" verses "shining your light" struggle!
What a joy to be back at Long Beach this morning. God provided a very special time of one-on-one counseling and prayer for Janice and myself when only one person showed up for our college age class. But it was just what this person needed. For once, we were both glad no one else showed up. I love this church family and love sharing the Word with them.
Have a blessed week! Thanks for letting me ramble my way into your Monday morning.
Carolyn, the lady we were called to pray for last week (she had the still-born baby and was unconcscious for several days), regained consciousness on Friday and asked her husband if he'd paid the pool bill. (They are having an inground pool installed at their new house.) That pretty well answered the doctor's questions as to whether or not she would awaken and have her normal mental capacity! We praise God along with her family. What an honor to be with them twice to lift them up to the Father's throne.
Speaking of prayers ... our friends, Beth and Ken Dean, need prayers--not that the rest of us don't! They succeeded in their latest attempt at in vitro pregnancy, but have had a set back today. Without saying more, just lift them up to God. They are good people and would make wonderful parents. They are, however, placing it all in God's hands and trying to brace themselves for one of the possible answers.
I was asked last week to do a memorial service for the mother of a friend of a friend. I've written about Kim and Burt in earlier blogs. Since giving their lives to Christ last Christmas, they have grown by leaps and bounds. The mother of one of Kim's best friends from her past life of alcohol and drugs died unexpectedly following surgery and Kim asked if I would have a memorial service for her. We held the service Saturday morning and I'm waiting to see how God is going to work through this ... I have full confidence he will. Kim's friends noticed immediately a huge difference in her life and she was thrilled to share her testimony. She told me this morning that so many of them were very appreciative of the service and "that guy that did it" ... so who knows where this will lead? I spend a rather sleepless night Friday trying to pull together some thoughts that would point them toward God without being too preachy or overbearing. You know, that whole "letting your light shine" verses "shining your light" struggle!
What a joy to be back at Long Beach this morning. God provided a very special time of one-on-one counseling and prayer for Janice and myself when only one person showed up for our college age class. But it was just what this person needed. For once, we were both glad no one else showed up. I love this church family and love sharing the Word with them.
Have a blessed week! Thanks for letting me ramble my way into your Monday morning.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Who Is Invited to Your Table?
Though I was not overly impressed with the Zoe worship conference this year, there was a highlight in the one class I attended taught by John York and Wade Hodges. I'd never heard Wade teach before and he had some good things to say. John's teaching is, in my opinion (and a humble one at that), better than his preaching. I've always enjoyed hearing John York teach.
Anyway, they were talking at one point about the table theme in Luke's gospel. I've taught Luke and preached Luke, but only until I heard John Mark Hicks a few years ago teach about the Table of the Lord did I realize there was a table theme in Luke. I guess that is one of the factors that separates the Ph.D.s from the M.A.s! That and would you rather be called "Doctor" or "Master"? I got half a doctorate and then settled for being called Master. But I digress ... again.
The point made in our class was that in Jesus' day a person was identified by the people they welcomed to their table. And in that day, the table was basically a place of exclusion. Religious, self-righteous people prided themselves on not eating with certain people of the community ... people such as tax collectors, women, Gentiles, prostitutes, lepers, anyone unclean. Jesus, on the other hand, was severaly rebuked for his table being one of inclusion. His ministry was, in part, identified by the people he welcomed to his table. People such as tax collectors, women, Gentiles, prostitutes, lepers and almost any unclean person.
Which begs the question: Who are the people we exclude from our tables of fellowship? And if Jesus were to be invited to our table, what kind of people would he expect to see at our table? What kind of people would he bring with him?
I think how we answer those questions says a great deal about our walk with Christ. Or lack thereof.
Anyway, they were talking at one point about the table theme in Luke's gospel. I've taught Luke and preached Luke, but only until I heard John Mark Hicks a few years ago teach about the Table of the Lord did I realize there was a table theme in Luke. I guess that is one of the factors that separates the Ph.D.s from the M.A.s! That and would you rather be called "Doctor" or "Master"? I got half a doctorate and then settled for being called Master. But I digress ... again.
The point made in our class was that in Jesus' day a person was identified by the people they welcomed to their table. And in that day, the table was basically a place of exclusion. Religious, self-righteous people prided themselves on not eating with certain people of the community ... people such as tax collectors, women, Gentiles, prostitutes, lepers, anyone unclean. Jesus, on the other hand, was severaly rebuked for his table being one of inclusion. His ministry was, in part, identified by the people he welcomed to his table. People such as tax collectors, women, Gentiles, prostitutes, lepers and almost any unclean person.
Which begs the question: Who are the people we exclude from our tables of fellowship? And if Jesus were to be invited to our table, what kind of people would he expect to see at our table? What kind of people would he bring with him?
I think how we answer those questions says a great deal about our walk with Christ. Or lack thereof.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
A War Hero
He and his twin brother were born in a small Mississippi town south of Memphis, Tennessee, where their father was a country physician. The kind that made housecalls and treated a lot of people at no charge. One of the patients was described as a "towheaded kid from nearby Tupelo, named Elvis," memorable only for helping his father, Vernon Presley, pick up milk cans around the community.
At the young age of 21, he was a 1st Lieutenant in the Air Force Reserve. After serving as a flight instructor, he was sent to North Africa, 15th Air Force, 456th Bomber Group, 746th Squandron, having volunteered to participate in "something special coming up--a special assignment." That special mission involved the new B-24 Liberator bombers. He flew "Miss Lily" (named after his mother) in missions over southern France, the oil fields of Ploesti, Romania, (which supplied a third of all oil used by Hitler) ... Schweinfurt (ball bearing factory) ... Hamburg ... Frankfurt ... Duesseldorf ... and Munich, Germany ... and Bucharest, Romania.
His final mission was over Hungary. Having made two successful passes over their target, the lead bombardeir insisted they make a third pass. It was not a good decision. Something went wrong when they tried to release their load. The bombs would not come out of the plane. German artillery filled the sky and his plane was literally cut in half by a direct hit on the bomb bay. They were at 30,000 feet. His navigator was in the nose of the plane and without a parachute. He grabbed the navigator and told him, "You're gonna have to ride my chest. You get around me and don't catch my back parachute. We've got to use that." When they were below 10,000 feet, they jumped. German gunners opened fire as the two men hung suspended beneath the chute. He remembered tracer bullets tearing through the parachute and whizzing between his legs. They hit the ground hard and were caught by German soldiers within minutes.
His next two years were spent in German POW camps, including Stalag Luft III, made famous by the movie The Great Escape. In January of 1945, he was forced to march over 100 miles in 10 inches of snow to Spremberg. After two days and a couple of nights, his feet were frozen and swollen. There was no skin left on his feet and his boots had to be cut off. Friends wrapped his feet with burlap sacks. He had gone from 170 pounds down to 96 and would have died on that march had friends not carried him. They were in Stalag VIII-A and then shipped in boxcars another 350 miles to Stalag VII-A where life was miserable, with lice eating on him constantly. He remembered, "You just got so worn out and tired, you accepted it."
In late April of 1945, he and the 30,000 POWs with him heard tanks firing. SS units were on one side of the POW camp and American soldiers on the other. For 15 minutes, the SS fired shots into the barracks in an attempt to kill the prisoners. They survived by running outside and hiding in trenches. On the 29th of April, an American tank rolled into Stalag VII-A, crashing through the barbed wire gate. It was the 14th Armored Division of Gen. George Patton's Third Army. The Nazi flag was lowered and "Old Glory" raised. He was finally free! A half-track drove in and standing up in front was a man wearing shiny boots and ivory handled pistols. It was General Patton.
Later, while recuperating in France, he was eating in the mess hall when a man punched his friend next to him and said, "Y'all scoot down a little bit." It was General Dwight Eisenhower. The general asked if they were getting enough to eat, and stayed to visit with them for a while before leaving.
He came home in 1945, entered dental school at University of Tennessee Dental School, played professional baseball with the Memphis Chicks for a while, graduated in 1950 and settled down in Athens, Alabama, to start his practice. It was there that he married a young nurse by the name of Ruth Mitchell. They had three children, Dexter, David and Dru. Ruth developed terminal brain cancer and died in 1968 over the July 4th weekend.
He practiced dentisty about a half day five days a week, and spent the rest of the time either golfing, fishing, or bird hunting. He never refused to treat a patient because the patient could not pay. Never sent a statement for payment. When asked about his two years as a POW, he held no grudges against the bombardier who insisted on making the third pass that resulted in the horrors of life as a POW. "If I hadn't been shot down on the eleventh mission, I might not have survived the twelvth." He was a quiet, humble man and only talked about his experiences shortly before his death so the story would be known to his family. The nightmares haunted him the remainder of his life. "I guess it's about the worst hardship I ever went through. Below zero, frozen feet, diarrhea, malnutrition. I'm lucky to be here."
And I feel lucky to have known Dr. Andrew Dexter Dunavant. His wife, Ruth, was a younger sister to my mother, and he was about the kindest man I've ever known ... not to mention the gentlest dentist to ever work on my teeth!
At the young age of 21, he was a 1st Lieutenant in the Air Force Reserve. After serving as a flight instructor, he was sent to North Africa, 15th Air Force, 456th Bomber Group, 746th Squandron, having volunteered to participate in "something special coming up--a special assignment." That special mission involved the new B-24 Liberator bombers. He flew "Miss Lily" (named after his mother) in missions over southern France, the oil fields of Ploesti, Romania, (which supplied a third of all oil used by Hitler) ... Schweinfurt (ball bearing factory) ... Hamburg ... Frankfurt ... Duesseldorf ... and Munich, Germany ... and Bucharest, Romania.
His final mission was over Hungary. Having made two successful passes over their target, the lead bombardeir insisted they make a third pass. It was not a good decision. Something went wrong when they tried to release their load. The bombs would not come out of the plane. German artillery filled the sky and his plane was literally cut in half by a direct hit on the bomb bay. They were at 30,000 feet. His navigator was in the nose of the plane and without a parachute. He grabbed the navigator and told him, "You're gonna have to ride my chest. You get around me and don't catch my back parachute. We've got to use that." When they were below 10,000 feet, they jumped. German gunners opened fire as the two men hung suspended beneath the chute. He remembered tracer bullets tearing through the parachute and whizzing between his legs. They hit the ground hard and were caught by German soldiers within minutes.
His next two years were spent in German POW camps, including Stalag Luft III, made famous by the movie The Great Escape. In January of 1945, he was forced to march over 100 miles in 10 inches of snow to Spremberg. After two days and a couple of nights, his feet were frozen and swollen. There was no skin left on his feet and his boots had to be cut off. Friends wrapped his feet with burlap sacks. He had gone from 170 pounds down to 96 and would have died on that march had friends not carried him. They were in Stalag VIII-A and then shipped in boxcars another 350 miles to Stalag VII-A where life was miserable, with lice eating on him constantly. He remembered, "You just got so worn out and tired, you accepted it."
In late April of 1945, he and the 30,000 POWs with him heard tanks firing. SS units were on one side of the POW camp and American soldiers on the other. For 15 minutes, the SS fired shots into the barracks in an attempt to kill the prisoners. They survived by running outside and hiding in trenches. On the 29th of April, an American tank rolled into Stalag VII-A, crashing through the barbed wire gate. It was the 14th Armored Division of Gen. George Patton's Third Army. The Nazi flag was lowered and "Old Glory" raised. He was finally free! A half-track drove in and standing up in front was a man wearing shiny boots and ivory handled pistols. It was General Patton.
Later, while recuperating in France, he was eating in the mess hall when a man punched his friend next to him and said, "Y'all scoot down a little bit." It was General Dwight Eisenhower. The general asked if they were getting enough to eat, and stayed to visit with them for a while before leaving.
He came home in 1945, entered dental school at University of Tennessee Dental School, played professional baseball with the Memphis Chicks for a while, graduated in 1950 and settled down in Athens, Alabama, to start his practice. It was there that he married a young nurse by the name of Ruth Mitchell. They had three children, Dexter, David and Dru. Ruth developed terminal brain cancer and died in 1968 over the July 4th weekend.
He practiced dentisty about a half day five days a week, and spent the rest of the time either golfing, fishing, or bird hunting. He never refused to treat a patient because the patient could not pay. Never sent a statement for payment. When asked about his two years as a POW, he held no grudges against the bombardier who insisted on making the third pass that resulted in the horrors of life as a POW. "If I hadn't been shot down on the eleventh mission, I might not have survived the twelvth." He was a quiet, humble man and only talked about his experiences shortly before his death so the story would be known to his family. The nightmares haunted him the remainder of his life. "I guess it's about the worst hardship I ever went through. Below zero, frozen feet, diarrhea, malnutrition. I'm lucky to be here."
And I feel lucky to have known Dr. Andrew Dexter Dunavant. His wife, Ruth, was a younger sister to my mother, and he was about the kindest man I've ever known ... not to mention the gentlest dentist to ever work on my teeth!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Christ to the Community
The theme of the Zoe worship conference this year was to be Christ to the community in which we live. That's sort of biblical / new testamenty, isn't it? Today offered two opportunities (probably more that I just didn't see around me) for me to put into practice what we discussed over the weekend.
A lady came into our office just before lunch and asked if we would go down to the hospital and pray with her sister. This lady, Rosalie, said she had been a "member of the church of Christ" years ago, but had drifted away. Looking at death's door opening for her sister, she was now bargaining with God to save her sister. The sister had given birth to her 5th child last week. Unfortunately, the baby was stillborn. Apparently the placenta had ruptured before they could get the baby out. Mom was doing okay, so they thought, but suddenly stopped breathing. Apparentlly the amniotic fluid got into her system and she's been unconscious for several days.
Ken (our youth minister) and I went down and prayed over Carol then met up with several of the family in the waiting room, including the sister (Rosalie), the husband (Rudy) and his parents, and a daughter. We prayed with them and told them to let us know if there is anything we could do. Again, they are in a bargaining frame of mind ... "God, if You will just do this for us, we will do anything for you!" We tried to encourage them to walk faithfully no matter the response to this. We tried not to be "preachy" but to let them know this may not work out the way they want ... but God is still God. They seemed receptive to that encouragement.
Later in the day, I received a phone call from a woman suffering from muscular dystrophy (sp?), needing to move from her apartment to another. She had fallen through all the cracks as far as any social help was concerned. She had a refrigerator, bed, small dinette, chairs and some boxes. The cheapest rate she could get was $300 to make the move. She called to see if we could possibly help. After trying to think of anyone with a truck who lived close by and might be available, I struck out. In the meantime I called one of our elders and suggested that we pick up the tab if she could hire the $300 people. He gave the okay and I passed the news on to her. She was ecstatic! Called me back about an hour later and said, "God has really been blessing me this afternoon. Just when I thought I was going to receive no help, you not only offered to pay for the moving, but a group of men from another church that I'd called this morning called back to say they would move me tonigh ... at no charge!" She then told me, "You don't know how much you've blessed me and you will see me at your church!" I assured her that was not necessary though we'd love to meet her and share God's blessing in her life today.
I feel very good about this day. Didn't get much accomplished I planned to do, but I enjoyed joining some things God had in mind for the day! We're going up to have dinner with a friend who had surgery last week. Thanks, as always, for dropping by.
A lady came into our office just before lunch and asked if we would go down to the hospital and pray with her sister. This lady, Rosalie, said she had been a "member of the church of Christ" years ago, but had drifted away. Looking at death's door opening for her sister, she was now bargaining with God to save her sister. The sister had given birth to her 5th child last week. Unfortunately, the baby was stillborn. Apparently the placenta had ruptured before they could get the baby out. Mom was doing okay, so they thought, but suddenly stopped breathing. Apparentlly the amniotic fluid got into her system and she's been unconscious for several days.
Ken (our youth minister) and I went down and prayed over Carol then met up with several of the family in the waiting room, including the sister (Rosalie), the husband (Rudy) and his parents, and a daughter. We prayed with them and told them to let us know if there is anything we could do. Again, they are in a bargaining frame of mind ... "God, if You will just do this for us, we will do anything for you!" We tried to encourage them to walk faithfully no matter the response to this. We tried not to be "preachy" but to let them know this may not work out the way they want ... but God is still God. They seemed receptive to that encouragement.
Later in the day, I received a phone call from a woman suffering from muscular dystrophy (sp?), needing to move from her apartment to another. She had fallen through all the cracks as far as any social help was concerned. She had a refrigerator, bed, small dinette, chairs and some boxes. The cheapest rate she could get was $300 to make the move. She called to see if we could possibly help. After trying to think of anyone with a truck who lived close by and might be available, I struck out. In the meantime I called one of our elders and suggested that we pick up the tab if she could hire the $300 people. He gave the okay and I passed the news on to her. She was ecstatic! Called me back about an hour later and said, "God has really been blessing me this afternoon. Just when I thought I was going to receive no help, you not only offered to pay for the moving, but a group of men from another church that I'd called this morning called back to say they would move me tonigh ... at no charge!" She then told me, "You don't know how much you've blessed me and you will see me at your church!" I assured her that was not necessary though we'd love to meet her and share God's blessing in her life today.
I feel very good about this day. Didn't get much accomplished I planned to do, but I enjoyed joining some things God had in mind for the day! We're going up to have dinner with a friend who had surgery last week. Thanks, as always, for dropping by.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Nana
Jan's parents in earlier, healthier years. Nana was always a beautiful lady. Her dad died almost 4 years ago.Nana was smart. Loved sports. Very competitive. Easy to talk with. Insightful. Loving. Generous. Loved her husband and family with an unconditional love. Taught me a lot about how to love. She was a hard working woman, too. Many years ago, we heated our house with a woodstove, which meant spending several weekends each spring or fall cutting, loading, unloading, and stacking fire wood. It was hard work and it went on without respite until it was too dark to cut any more wood. Nana would outwork us all. She loved to fish. Loved to have people over for dinner. She was just fun to be around. And hey, she liked me! What more can I say about this woman.
Earlier in my visit to Alabama, I visited Nana for a couple of hours. Several years ago, Nana suffered a pretty serious stroke, and later some minor ones. Though she bounced back, today the effects of the stroke have taken their toll. Her memory is not very good (like I'm one to talk!), she is unsteady on her feet, doesn't converse much beyond short, simple sentences, no longer knows my children when she sees them until someone tells her who they are, isn't too sure who I am, and seems most comfortable in very familiar and uninterrupted surroundings. She loves to work on word puzzle books and spends much of her time in her chair "working" these puzzles. Actually, she doesn't work them at all, she turns to the back where the answers are given and just copies answers from the back to the page she happens to be on. Much like I did with math homework (sorry Cecil and Steve)! But she is very meticulous about her letters looking just right, so she keeps a bottle of white-out next to her and frequently covers over a letter and re-writes it until she is satisfied that it looks good. When she is in her chair working her puzzles, that is pretty much her world.
It is sad to see the Nana we once knew become the Nana we know now. But she's a living example of Ecclesiastes 12:1 - 5 and a living reminder of verses 6 - 8. She is pictured here with my mother about two years ago.In contrast, almost 4 years ago Grandaddy got up one morning to use the bathroom, returned to the bed and fell onto the mattress, dead before he ever hit the bed. Massive coronary. Never felt a thing. Of the two, I would prefer to go like Grandaddy, but I have this odd feeling that God is going to allow me to experience great suffering before I'm called home. Just seems to be the norm on my side of the family. Which just makes heaven all the more attractive from this side of eternity!
My mom (Muz) in healthier days ... about 1994. Pasadena, CA
My dad (Papa) and Jessica about 1988
Papa and JoshMonday, October 10, 2005
Home ... finally
Looking back over the past week, what seemed like a short eternity ahead of me looks, in retrospect, like a blur. But the blur slowed down yesterday as I spent four unexpected hours sitting in Nashville or Denver airports. I thought it was the weather in Denver that caused the delay but it turned out to be a problem with an airplane. My flights were uneventful, for which I am ever so grateful! But it was a long and tiring day of waiting.
Zoe had some highlights, as always, but they were few and far between, which was unlike past years. The highlights, of course, were more about people and relationships this year. I enjoyed sharing the weekend with friends and family. There were worship moments that were truly inspiring. Perhaps the better worship experience was at Otter Creek on Sunday morning. Dinner with friends and family and making new friends with a couple from Rex's church (Rex is my younger brother) seemed to be more meaningful this year than the conference itself. However, Michael Card was outstanding! His 1-hour concert was worth the trip to Nashville. I'm glad I stayed for that rather than driving back down to Alabama for the Diamond Rio concert. Though I didn't have back stage passes to Michael Card, the guy from Virginia who didn't want to be mentioned for security reasons and myself were invited up onstage by the sound tech (our friend, Lex) and the guy from Virginia.... not only met Card, but later was given Michael's name tag and a guitar pick that Lex was able to get from M. Card. Needless to say, this was probably the highlight of that person's Zoe experience. Which is saying a LOT since he was with me most of the weekend!
Now to unpack and start life again in the normal mode. To those of you who read this blog, thanks for taking time out of your day to read my ramblings.
Zoe had some highlights, as always, but they were few and far between, which was unlike past years. The highlights, of course, were more about people and relationships this year. I enjoyed sharing the weekend with friends and family. There were worship moments that were truly inspiring. Perhaps the better worship experience was at Otter Creek on Sunday morning. Dinner with friends and family and making new friends with a couple from Rex's church (Rex is my younger brother) seemed to be more meaningful this year than the conference itself. However, Michael Card was outstanding! His 1-hour concert was worth the trip to Nashville. I'm glad I stayed for that rather than driving back down to Alabama for the Diamond Rio concert. Though I didn't have back stage passes to Michael Card, the guy from Virginia who didn't want to be mentioned for security reasons and myself were invited up onstage by the sound tech (our friend, Lex) and the guy from Virginia.... not only met Card, but later was given Michael's name tag and a guitar pick that Lex was able to get from M. Card. Needless to say, this was probably the highlight of that person's Zoe experience. Which is saying a LOT since he was with me most of the weekend!
Now to unpack and start life again in the normal mode. To those of you who read this blog, thanks for taking time out of your day to read my ramblings.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Zoe / Day Two
As I write this, it's well after 11pm. My sister is enjoying her new guitar and the book to a beginner's course for guitar. The guy from Virginia who doesn't want to be identified for security purposes (hereafter known as TGFVWDWTBIFSP) is switching through the channels, looking for something to put him to sleep. I'll go in there and start a conversation with him ... that should put him out.
Speaking only for myself, I have not been impressed with Zoe conference this year. The discerning groups have been way too "touchy-feely" for me. John Chisum, who wrote a number of the contemporary songs we sing (Hosanna / Integrity Music), gave a short concert this afternoon and it was almost embarrassing. Not from his performance but from our lack of participation. The slide show to display lyrics was a disaster. We felt sorry for John. His concert this evening was very good.
The 4:00 worship was the best to that point. The final song was "Amazing Grace" with an amazingly talented guitarist playing some incredible jazz / blues licks to that song. That, alone, was worth being here. The 4:00 worship was the beginning of the good experiences we've had w/ Zoe in the past years.
The Zoe group finally performed this evening and it was wonderful. Mike Cope had an hilarious video of his new CD of church of Christ songs. You just had to see this to believe it. Among the list of songs was 728B (inside joke to church of Christers). There was a very moving drama of the women listed in Matthew's genealogy of Christ.
Met up with my brother, Rex, and his lovely wife, Valerie, along with some dear friends of theirs from Birmingham. Lots of laughs at dinner. Lots of good food, too.
Otherwise, we started the morning at the Gibson Guitar Factory where I found a beautiful Les Paul. The salesman was willing to take $1,200 off the price, ship it to CA at no cost to me, and no sales tax. It was tempting, to say the least. My sister is executor of mom's estate and I even stooped so low as to try and convince her that Mom would really want me to have that guitar, even if she would have paid for it on my behalf! Gibson was the first of two "technology tracks" we enjoyed today. Later, we opted to return to Guitar Center for part two of that class.
Saturday is promising with Michael Card in concert and, of course, Jeff Walling usually has something good to say ... or at least a different perspective on a given text.
Hugs and Kisses . . .
Speaking only for myself, I have not been impressed with Zoe conference this year. The discerning groups have been way too "touchy-feely" for me. John Chisum, who wrote a number of the contemporary songs we sing (Hosanna / Integrity Music), gave a short concert this afternoon and it was almost embarrassing. Not from his performance but from our lack of participation. The slide show to display lyrics was a disaster. We felt sorry for John. His concert this evening was very good.
The 4:00 worship was the best to that point. The final song was "Amazing Grace" with an amazingly talented guitarist playing some incredible jazz / blues licks to that song. That, alone, was worth being here. The 4:00 worship was the beginning of the good experiences we've had w/ Zoe in the past years.
The Zoe group finally performed this evening and it was wonderful. Mike Cope had an hilarious video of his new CD of church of Christ songs. You just had to see this to believe it. Among the list of songs was 728B (inside joke to church of Christers). There was a very moving drama of the women listed in Matthew's genealogy of Christ.
Met up with my brother, Rex, and his lovely wife, Valerie, along with some dear friends of theirs from Birmingham. Lots of laughs at dinner. Lots of good food, too.
Otherwise, we started the morning at the Gibson Guitar Factory where I found a beautiful Les Paul. The salesman was willing to take $1,200 off the price, ship it to CA at no cost to me, and no sales tax. It was tempting, to say the least. My sister is executor of mom's estate and I even stooped so low as to try and convince her that Mom would really want me to have that guitar, even if she would have paid for it on my behalf! Gibson was the first of two "technology tracks" we enjoyed today. Later, we opted to return to Guitar Center for part two of that class.
Saturday is promising with Michael Card in concert and, of course, Jeff Walling usually has something good to say ... or at least a different perspective on a given text.
Hugs and Kisses . . .
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Zoe Day One / Part Deux
This morning we set up our booth, had breakfast at Cracker Barrel (as Brady observed, this is a part of our "eating your way through the south ... Sherman style"), with plans to drive out to the Gibson Guitar Factory to begin the deeper spiritual moments of the weekend. My sister was driving up from Talladega, Alabama to meet us and arrived here much earlier than I expected. So we opted to spend an hour and a half at Guitar Center rather than losing playing time on the highway out to the Factory. I know, a lesser spiritual experience, but one must learn to be flexible in spiritual matters.
The guy from Virginia who doesn't want his name publicly blogged for security reasons and I were playing the newer Taylor acoustic / electrics (NICE!) and others including, of course, the Les Paul which was on sale. About the time we decided to go eat some lunch (see parenthetical statement in paragraph above) my sister decided if we would pick out a guitar and amp, she would become a convert to our addiction! So we picked out an affordable Epiphone guitar and Roland amp of which she is now the proud owner. This was good for the guy from Virginia and myself as we experienced walking away from GC with new equipment and it didn't cost us a cent. Is life good or what?
Low side of the story ... I found it very difficult to concentrate at Zoe knowing there was a new guitar / amp in the car! But we found a compromise for the discomfort. We blew off session two, had an early supper (is there a theme here?) and went back to the motel room to try out the new implements of praise!
On a more serious note, the Zoe conference has, for years, suggested and taught (and to some extent pushed) the idea that we can "do worship" in more ways than we've traditionally "done worship" and it be acceptable to God. Some of the hot issues were, of course, women's role and the use of instrumental music in worship. After talking about it for those years, I guess someone decided it was time to "put up or shut up" so they "put up" from the git-go. The conference began with a song accompanied by instrumental music and concluded with a woman praying the benediction over us.
I'm sure that pushed a lot of people far from the outer edge of their comfort zone ... and maybe it's time we are pushed. As Randy Gill observed, where did we ever get the idea an encounter with God is supposed to be comfortable? Good point, Randy! It has been my observation over the past several years that some of our "issues" are quickly becoming non-issues in the mainstream churches of our fellowship. If we survive another couple of generations, it will be the result of our leaving some of these issues in the past and moving ahead where God is leading us.
Whether or not you are comfortable with these changes, this is Zoe - 2005 ... and this is what it will take to connect with a post-modern / post-Christian generation. As you know, I don't personally have much hope that we'll let go of our comfort to step out in faith and be led by God's Spirit. Not as a fellowship, and certainly not in the bible belt ... but I'm pleased that there are some among us who have the guts to go beyond just talking about grace and freedom in Christ. I think we still have a place in the Kingdom of God ... but only if we're going to live by faith rather than status quo and familiar comfort zones.
Later . . .
The guy from Virginia who doesn't want his name publicly blogged for security reasons and I were playing the newer Taylor acoustic / electrics (NICE!) and others including, of course, the Les Paul which was on sale. About the time we decided to go eat some lunch (see parenthetical statement in paragraph above) my sister decided if we would pick out a guitar and amp, she would become a convert to our addiction! So we picked out an affordable Epiphone guitar and Roland amp of which she is now the proud owner. This was good for the guy from Virginia and myself as we experienced walking away from GC with new equipment and it didn't cost us a cent. Is life good or what?
Low side of the story ... I found it very difficult to concentrate at Zoe knowing there was a new guitar / amp in the car! But we found a compromise for the discomfort. We blew off session two, had an early supper (is there a theme here?) and went back to the motel room to try out the new implements of praise!
On a more serious note, the Zoe conference has, for years, suggested and taught (and to some extent pushed) the idea that we can "do worship" in more ways than we've traditionally "done worship" and it be acceptable to God. Some of the hot issues were, of course, women's role and the use of instrumental music in worship. After talking about it for those years, I guess someone decided it was time to "put up or shut up" so they "put up" from the git-go. The conference began with a song accompanied by instrumental music and concluded with a woman praying the benediction over us.
I'm sure that pushed a lot of people far from the outer edge of their comfort zone ... and maybe it's time we are pushed. As Randy Gill observed, where did we ever get the idea an encounter with God is supposed to be comfortable? Good point, Randy! It has been my observation over the past several years that some of our "issues" are quickly becoming non-issues in the mainstream churches of our fellowship. If we survive another couple of generations, it will be the result of our leaving some of these issues in the past and moving ahead where God is leading us.
Whether or not you are comfortable with these changes, this is Zoe - 2005 ... and this is what it will take to connect with a post-modern / post-Christian generation. As you know, I don't personally have much hope that we'll let go of our comfort to step out in faith and be led by God's Spirit. Not as a fellowship, and certainly not in the bible belt ... but I'm pleased that there are some among us who have the guts to go beyond just talking about grace and freedom in Christ. I think we still have a place in the Kingdom of God ... but only if we're going to live by faith rather than status quo and familiar comfort zones.
Later . . .
Zoe Day One, Part One
It's Thursday morning. We're about to grab some breakfast and head over to Woodmont to set up our table. We're hoping to sell enough of our "A View of Worship" song slides to allow us both to retire to some place where we can sit around wishing we weren't retired. But that's probably not going to happen. Last year we got four lottery tickets and .... well, never mind. To maintain our spiritual purity, let's just say a guy with us got the tickets. Our trip to Woodmont is really just a side trip on our journey into the world of Gibson guitars. And I'm not addicted. The conference actually starts after lunch today. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm suspecting a lot of "touchy - feely" small groups this year. I hope it's just suspect and not reality. My sister arrives today, my younger brother and his wife tomorrow. Several friends are here from Florida, so we'll form our own touchy-feely small group if need be.
Not much to write about from yesterday. How much can one say about driving from north Alabama to Nashville? I'm feeling the distance from my family, so it was very good to pick Randy (I'm not supposed to mention him by name ... some kind of security issue, but the countless people who read this blog need to know he is actually doing something of value this week) up at the airport and have some company with whom I can discuss spiritual things more comfortably. We enjoyed far too much BBQ last night at Corky's ... a bit of a walk to settle down the food ... and then he went to sleep (to get a jump start on my alleged snoring) while I watched the pilot episode of LOST. Never got into that show but it looks promising. By the time I complete season one, I'll have to buy season two just to find out what's happening as I've not seen any of the current shows.
The only other memory from yesterday worth sharing is that if you are in the south and want a good milk shake, try Hardees. In the west they are Carl's Jr, but there are significant differences, the milk shake being perhaps the more significant. Here they actually start the masterpiece by using four scoops of real ice cream from those large containers (like Coldstones). It just gets better from that point!
Later ...
Not much to write about from yesterday. How much can one say about driving from north Alabama to Nashville? I'm feeling the distance from my family, so it was very good to pick Randy (I'm not supposed to mention him by name ... some kind of security issue, but the countless people who read this blog need to know he is actually doing something of value this week) up at the airport and have some company with whom I can discuss spiritual things more comfortably. We enjoyed far too much BBQ last night at Corky's ... a bit of a walk to settle down the food ... and then he went to sleep (to get a jump start on my alleged snoring) while I watched the pilot episode of LOST. Never got into that show but it looks promising. By the time I complete season one, I'll have to buy season two just to find out what's happening as I've not seen any of the current shows.
The only other memory from yesterday worth sharing is that if you are in the south and want a good milk shake, try Hardees. In the west they are Carl's Jr, but there are significant differences, the milk shake being perhaps the more significant. Here they actually start the masterpiece by using four scoops of real ice cream from those large containers (like Coldstones). It just gets better from that point!
Later ...
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
What to do?
Several months ago I booked my flight for the Zoe worship conference to allow me four days to spend with Mom. As most of you know, Mom decided she would no longer live in North Alabama, moving on to be with the Lord instead, so I had four days of not knowing just what I'd do.
Today I spent much of the day with my aunts (as I mentioned in yesterday's blog), my uncle Jackie, and my cousin, Olivia and her husband, Rick, and enjoyed every moment of it ... not to mention a delicious home cooked meal! That, alone, was the culinary highlight of this trip so far. Rick plays drums for a very popular band here called Replay. They mostly do the old Detroit soul music (though they are all caucasian) that I love from the 70's, and they just happen to be rehearsing tonight and I just happened to be invited to the rehearsal and I just happened to have nothing else to do. So I went and listened for about 2 hours. They are very, very talented musicians / singers. Not the Eagles, mind you, but very good.
I'm not a country music fan by any stretch of the definition, but on Saturday Rick's band is opening for Diamond Rio which, I'm told, is one of the hottest country bands in the nation today. Rick told me later tonight as we enjoyed a bit of a meal together that he will have back-stage passes if I wanted to come back down from Nashville for the concert here on Saturday. What to do, what to do?
Last year I was not overly impressed with the Zoe conference. This year may be the best yet and I have a ton of friends and family attending this. Even paid for my sister's registration so she could come up for it. Do I stay at the conference or do I drive back down to Florence and enjoy an hour of Replay doing some of my favorite songs and then the Diamond Rio concert with back-stage privilege?
I haven't decided ... may have a lot to do with whether or not Randy is interested in abandoning Zoe for something a bit less spiritual. I'll let you know what I decide, but I'd love to hear what you'd do in this circumstance. After all, if I let you make the decision for me and it turns out to be the wrong one, then it's your fault and not mine ... possibly saving me months of counseling later!
Today I spent much of the day with my aunts (as I mentioned in yesterday's blog), my uncle Jackie, and my cousin, Olivia and her husband, Rick, and enjoyed every moment of it ... not to mention a delicious home cooked meal! That, alone, was the culinary highlight of this trip so far. Rick plays drums for a very popular band here called Replay. They mostly do the old Detroit soul music (though they are all caucasian) that I love from the 70's, and they just happen to be rehearsing tonight and I just happened to be invited to the rehearsal and I just happened to have nothing else to do. So I went and listened for about 2 hours. They are very, very talented musicians / singers. Not the Eagles, mind you, but very good.
I'm not a country music fan by any stretch of the definition, but on Saturday Rick's band is opening for Diamond Rio which, I'm told, is one of the hottest country bands in the nation today. Rick told me later tonight as we enjoyed a bit of a meal together that he will have back-stage passes if I wanted to come back down from Nashville for the concert here on Saturday. What to do, what to do?
Last year I was not overly impressed with the Zoe conference. This year may be the best yet and I have a ton of friends and family attending this. Even paid for my sister's registration so she could come up for it. Do I stay at the conference or do I drive back down to Florence and enjoy an hour of Replay doing some of my favorite songs and then the Diamond Rio concert with back-stage privilege?
I haven't decided ... may have a lot to do with whether or not Randy is interested in abandoning Zoe for something a bit less spiritual. I'll let you know what I decide, but I'd love to hear what you'd do in this circumstance. After all, if I let you make the decision for me and it turns out to be the wrong one, then it's your fault and not mine ... possibly saving me months of counseling later!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Rule # 1
Today was an enjoyable day ... had lunch w/ my friends, Keith and Ellen. Just as we were leaving Gary and Donna walked in for lunch so I stayed another half hour and continued our visit from Sunday afternoon. Went up to see my mother-in-law and then enjoyed a delicious steak dinner with Pam and George (my sister-in-law and brother-in-law). Pam had to go back to Nana's to retrieve her pager (she's an anesthetist and they live by pagers) and Nana had no memory of me being there for two hours earlier today. I told Pam I have that impact on most people I encounter in life! It is sad to see someone who was so full of life not that many years ago be reduced to what our Nana is today. But we love her and she's precious to us ... even if she has no idea who we are.
But today I broke a cardinal self-imposed rule of conversation when in the south: I talked "religion" with someone! We had a l-o-n-g conversation about two subjects in particular -- worshipping with instrumental music and baptism. Around here, you can't talk the first without inevitably discussing the second. After all, if one believes instrumental music in worship is not a salvation issue (and I am one who believes that), then obviously said person could not possibly be strong on baptism!?! Go figure!
But at least we ended the discussion as friends. A comment that seemed very frustrating to my friend was, "Baptism is not essential for salvation; nor is it optional." Meaning: The power of salvation is in the finished sacrifice of Jesus on the cross and his resurrection from the dead. Paul could not make it any clearer than we are saved by grace through faith! I was trying to get my friend to see that God is sovereign (not bound by any law) and can save whom He pleases without my permission! But at the same time, baptism is not an option for a believer. This completely confused and frustrated my friend and shortly brought the conversation to an end.
I just need to remember in the context of religious / church discussions: "When in the south, shut my mouth!"
I'm having lunch tomorrow (Tuesday) with some of my very favorite aunts who happen to be on mom's side of the family. Though there is the typical age difference between aunts and nephews, I feel more like a brother to Shirley, Pat and Betsy than I do a nephew. I'm looking forward to the afternoon. Time spent with family is becoming more and more precious to me.
But today I broke a cardinal self-imposed rule of conversation when in the south: I talked "religion" with someone! We had a l-o-n-g conversation about two subjects in particular -- worshipping with instrumental music and baptism. Around here, you can't talk the first without inevitably discussing the second. After all, if one believes instrumental music in worship is not a salvation issue (and I am one who believes that), then obviously said person could not possibly be strong on baptism!?! Go figure!
But at least we ended the discussion as friends. A comment that seemed very frustrating to my friend was, "Baptism is not essential for salvation; nor is it optional." Meaning: The power of salvation is in the finished sacrifice of Jesus on the cross and his resurrection from the dead. Paul could not make it any clearer than we are saved by grace through faith! I was trying to get my friend to see that God is sovereign (not bound by any law) and can save whom He pleases without my permission! But at the same time, baptism is not an option for a believer. This completely confused and frustrated my friend and shortly brought the conversation to an end.
I just need to remember in the context of religious / church discussions: "When in the south, shut my mouth!"
I'm having lunch tomorrow (Tuesday) with some of my very favorite aunts who happen to be on mom's side of the family. Though there is the typical age difference between aunts and nephews, I feel more like a brother to Shirley, Pat and Betsy than I do a nephew. I'm looking forward to the afternoon. Time spent with family is becoming more and more precious to me.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Keith's Blog
I added a link to this site. Check out my friend, Keith Davis, and give him some responses. I want to get him involved in this intimate (but clean!) blog community.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Ramblings from Alabama
Alabama manhandled Florida in SEC football on Saturday. It was a beautiful sight to walk past a tv monitor in an airport lounge and see the score of 31-3! I'm sure there were other games played over the weekend, but who cares?!? FYI: Bama is 5-0 for the season, which may not mean much to some of you out there, but this is my blog so humor me and pretend you care!
I met up in Nashville with a friend, Ted Bell, whom I first met 13 years ago just after he moved from Long Beach back to Tennessee. We met at Corky's Bar-B-Que (possibly some of the best in Nashville) and spent about 3 hours catching up on each other's life. That's one of the great blessings about relationship in the Lord ... it may be interrupted by time and distance, but it's always there when you meet again.
Sunday night. Northwest Alabama. Heart of the "Bible belt" (sorry, all you Texans who have been misled into thinking you are the heart). A little jet lag, a lot of missing my wife. My church family. My children. My dog. I didn't "go to church" tonight, which is a huge sin of commission here, but the church I attended this morning didn't have a service tonight so I figure I'm okay on the local church attendance law. Probably wouldn't fly as a defense in any local Sanhedrin, though.
The Creekside Church is a small fellowship of some very sweet and loving people. My mother was loved by that church family for many years so I never consider myself a visitor there. Just a distant member. Keith serves that church as minister and is making that exciting journey deeper into grace, which is a risky venture in the heart of the Bible belt. I know, I made that journey from this starting point and didn't make a lot of friends in the process.
I spent the afternoon with dear friends from yesteryear, Donna and Gary Howard. I'll blog more about them later. But about 13 years ago I did the wedding ceremony of their daughter, Michelle, and we spent much of the afternoon visiting with Michelle (and later Curtis, her hubby ... great guy with excellent taste in women and in-laws) and their children Mitchell and Cameron. Mitchell is 11 and a very impressive young man. Cameron is 3-1/2 and every bit as gorgeous as her mother. I still have a picture of Michelle from about 20 years ago under the glass cover on my office desk. When people ask who she is, I tell them, "One of the most beautiful ladies in the world!" We had a lot of laughs remembering back over the past 35 years that Donna, Gary, Janice and I have known each other. The latter part of my day with them involved their 11-pound psycho dog by the name of Chester! I may blog more about Chester later, but suffice it to say Chester would make a nice snack for Chipper!
I'm staying with Pam (Jan's sister), George and Patrick. Pam was the smart sister who, years ago, asked Janice what in the world she saw in me! We seem to be on better terms these days! Pam was nothing less than an angel to our family when Mom was dying, and through the week of Mom's funeral. She and George graciously not only housed my family, but four other friends of ours who were here for the funeral. She is a nurse anesthetist and supported our family in so many ways during those very difficult days. I'm very grateful for my family on Janice's side. There aren't better people that I know of. Some as good. None better!
The jet lag is catching up with me .... I'm going to bed.
I met up in Nashville with a friend, Ted Bell, whom I first met 13 years ago just after he moved from Long Beach back to Tennessee. We met at Corky's Bar-B-Que (possibly some of the best in Nashville) and spent about 3 hours catching up on each other's life. That's one of the great blessings about relationship in the Lord ... it may be interrupted by time and distance, but it's always there when you meet again.
Sunday night. Northwest Alabama. Heart of the "Bible belt" (sorry, all you Texans who have been misled into thinking you are the heart). A little jet lag, a lot of missing my wife. My church family. My children. My dog. I didn't "go to church" tonight, which is a huge sin of commission here, but the church I attended this morning didn't have a service tonight so I figure I'm okay on the local church attendance law. Probably wouldn't fly as a defense in any local Sanhedrin, though.
The Creekside Church is a small fellowship of some very sweet and loving people. My mother was loved by that church family for many years so I never consider myself a visitor there. Just a distant member. Keith serves that church as minister and is making that exciting journey deeper into grace, which is a risky venture in the heart of the Bible belt. I know, I made that journey from this starting point and didn't make a lot of friends in the process.
I spent the afternoon with dear friends from yesteryear, Donna and Gary Howard. I'll blog more about them later. But about 13 years ago I did the wedding ceremony of their daughter, Michelle, and we spent much of the afternoon visiting with Michelle (and later Curtis, her hubby ... great guy with excellent taste in women and in-laws) and their children Mitchell and Cameron. Mitchell is 11 and a very impressive young man. Cameron is 3-1/2 and every bit as gorgeous as her mother. I still have a picture of Michelle from about 20 years ago under the glass cover on my office desk. When people ask who she is, I tell them, "One of the most beautiful ladies in the world!" We had a lot of laughs remembering back over the past 35 years that Donna, Gary, Janice and I have known each other. The latter part of my day with them involved their 11-pound psycho dog by the name of Chester! I may blog more about Chester later, but suffice it to say Chester would make a nice snack for Chipper!
I'm staying with Pam (Jan's sister), George and Patrick. Pam was the smart sister who, years ago, asked Janice what in the world she saw in me! We seem to be on better terms these days! Pam was nothing less than an angel to our family when Mom was dying, and through the week of Mom's funeral. She and George graciously not only housed my family, but four other friends of ours who were here for the funeral. She is a nurse anesthetist and supported our family in so many ways during those very difficult days. I'm very grateful for my family on Janice's side. There aren't better people that I know of. Some as good. None better!
The jet lag is catching up with me .... I'm going to bed.
