Minutes to Memories

Cole & Alison have to be about the neatest young couple around. They were childhood sweethearts, went to college together (Go Mississippi State!), became engineers together, and found great jobs together. Our church is lucky to have them around – just because of them of course, but also for the examples they are to everyone. Not every group has a first class, mature, responsible, and talented couple like that around…

We’re fortunate to have a really good (and active) young adult group at church. It used to be my responsibility to try to plan a young adult party every month, and although we had some great times, it drove me nuts trying to find something each month that (a) everyone would want to do, and (b) everyone could attend. But eventually, I had a great idea (caution: self-congratulations alert!): I asked twelve different young adult families to pick a month of the year and be in charge of planning something that month. We’re about six or seven months into it, and it has worked great so far!

September was Cole & Alison’s month to plan a party, and today was the day they arranged for us to go bowling (by the way, in case their parents stumble across this blog, those aren’t their cigarettes in the picture!). We had thirteen adults bowling, along with five kids with the bumper lanes, and several cheerleaders on the sidelines. It was a lot of fun, and a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

I bowled 105, 141, and 115 thank you very much (I know I suck, you don’t have to tell me). Matt rolled the game of the day with a 197, though crowd favorite, Tandy (former professional bowler, and now an honorary young adult in his 60s), drew the most cheers. Herman, without a doubt, bowled with the greatest power, and Tom won every game rolled on our lane. My wife bowled her first strike ever, and my daughter rolled an 87 (of which she is VERY proud).

The weather is great, the Cardinals won, and I had a fun afternoon bowling with some great friends from church. What a great day…

“In our first meeting John asked what my expectations were. I didn’t have any. I had never done this before and didn’t know what to expect. I only knew I wanted to explore the personal dimensions of faith and prayer with a guide instead of working by trial and error as I had been.” – Eugene Peterson, Working the Angles

Peterson’s quote applies to my lunch today.

Bruno turned 71 yesterday. He is a retired UCC (United Church of Christ) pastor who lives in Ocean Springs. He spent the bulk of his ministry years as the director of the Back Bay Mission in Biloxi, a ministry that reaches out to the poor. This, Bruno discovered, was his niche.

I’ve admired Bruno for quite some time now. Many people are defined by one word, and the word that comes to mind when I think of Bruno is “gracious.” Not a bad word to define your life if you ask me.

I still remember the first time I met him. We were at a meeting of religious leaders, hosted by the mayor of our city. We went around the room to introduce ourselves, and Bruno identified himself as a retired United Church of Christ pastor. Since it was his first time to attend that meeting, he went on to explain that this was different from the group popularly known as “Church of Christ,” though the two are often confused. When my turn came, I introduced myself as the preacher at the Church of Christ and explained to Bruno that there was absolutely nothing “united” about us!!! :-)

Bruno is a gentleman in the true sense of the word, and when he made a point to track me down once and tell me that I was different than what he expected – and that this was a good thing – I took it as the compliment it was intended to be.

Some time back, I had the idea of asking Bruno if I could sit down with him on a regular basis and just talk – partly to learn from his years preaching good news to the poor, but mostly just to learn from him. He graciously (there’s that word again!) agreed.

So today was day number one. We’re planning to get together at lunch on Fridays when our schedules permit. To just sit and talk. To become closer friends. I am unbelievably excited at the opportunity, and Bruno simply added to my excitement by mentioning that we might have some of these conversations on his sailboat from time to time. I have never been sailing, but I have wanted to for a long time now.

I wish every day was a "change your life" sort of day. I’m funny that way. I have this sneaky suspicion that I’ll look back sometime down the road and see that today actually was one of them.

When you finish reading this entry, you have to read an article about former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General (retired) John Shalikashvili. which I'll link below.

A few years ago now, I set out to write my first real book. Jim McVeay is a member of our church family, and he has some amazing stories. He is reportedly the most decorated soldier in Mississippi (following two adventurous tours in Vietnam), and nearly two decades after his exit from Vietnam, he began having the nightmares. Jim asked me to write his story in an effort to face his post-traumatic stress disorder, and it was my honor spending Thursday afternoons with him for nearly a year listening to stories, some of which he had never told another soul.

Along the way, Jim told a story about the time he met Shalikashvili. Jim was his TAC officer at Officer Candidate School, and when Jim demanded the candidate's name, he was sure he could never remember it. So he called him, "Candidate Alphabet," for the rest of his time.

When it came time to try to put the book together, I tracked down an email address for the famous military officer, and I asked him if he remembered Jim McVeay. I was shocked when he sent me a reply! He told me that he was so freaked out by Zero Week back in 1959 that he tried to quit the first night! He left the barracks in search of Jim McVeay - or any TAC officer - to inform whoever that military life was not for him. But he couldn't find anyone. So he went back to bed, then the next morning, was awakened and screamed at and kept busy that he didn't have time to think of quitting again. He told me that he was so thankful Jim kept himself hidden that night; if not, he might have ended up selling shoes in Peoria instead of serving his country in uniform.

After retiring from a legendary military career (and after writing me), "Shali" (as he's affectionately known) had a stroke. While he was in the hospital, he wrote the speech he delivered a few days later on John Kerry's behalf at the Democratic National Convention. Later, he had a severe stroke. And now, he struggles to recover basic bodily functions.

I didn't know about the stroke(s) when I tried to email him yesterday. I ran across an old copy of my book, "The Fighting Never Stops," which both Jim McVeay and I had autographed to send to General Shalikashvili. I did a little search and found an email address for him through Stanford University, so I sent him a note requesting his mailing address. Last evening, I received a reply from his son, Brant, with a nice note and the address.

Today, I went to Wal-Mart to buy an envelope and dropped by the post office to mail him the book. Then, I read the article from Seattle I'm about to link you to, and I was humbled to read of the strokes - and his fight to recover - and his son, Brant, at his father's side for it all...

It humbles me to think that I'm (a) sending a copy of a book intended to inspire people to fight, (b) to the nation's (former) highest military officer, and (c) who is fighting to simply be able to read on his own right now.

Today, I'm thinking of General John Shalikashvili: an American hero, a class act, and a warrior.

(Read the article here.)

(If interested, order my book here.)

What a circus in Dallas today after the controversial football player, Terrell Owens (popularly known as "T.O."), reportedly attempted to take his own life. Owens denied the report this afternoon.

T.O. rose to football stardom as a San Francisco 49er, but his controversial time as a Philadelphia Eagle elevated his career (and his agent, Drew Rosenhaus's career) to rock-star status. His little pre-Monday Night Football towel-dropping commercial with Desperate Houseflies star, Nicollette Sheridan, just made him more popular - and controversial - than ever.

When he signed with his former nemesis, the Dallas Cowboys, it was understood that there would be a lot of T.O. to be seen this year. Owens had a decent game at Jacksonville in Week 1, and then was greeted with great enthusiasm in his home opener against Washington in Week 2. He broke his finger in the first quarter (which explained his less-than-stellar game), but he didn't tell anyone until the 4th quarter. Afterwards, he underwent surgery to repair the fracture.

On my way to work this morning, I listened to ESPN Radio's Mike & Mike relay reports out of Dallas that T.O. had a bad reaction to pain medication and had to be rushed to the hospital last night. Greenie theorized that he would recover quickly, possibly even playing this weekend, while Golic wondered if the reaction might deplete his energy enough to make playing a football game on Sunday difficult. But after the police report hit the media, there were suddenly a whole new set of questions.

The report claimed that when emergency personnel reached Owens, the bottle that held his pain medication was empty, and he reportedly tried to take two more pills after they arrived. When asked if he had tried to hurt himself, the normally loquacious Owens replied with one word: "Yes."

At his press conference this afternoon, T.O. explained that his publicist panicked when she saw his empty medication bottle and found him to be unresponsive, but the truth of the matter was that he had (a) separated some pills (leaving a bottle empty), (b) been groggy from taking the pain medication, and (c) no recollection of saying the things police reported he had said.

Owens said he plans to play football this Sunday.

The initial reports got me to thinking: I, for one, have to remind myself from time to time that the larger-than-life entertainers in our world are not, in fact, larger than life. In my moments of clarity, I feel sorry for the controversial figures that don our tabloids. Their lives must often be hell, in spite of the beauty in which we try to paint their pictures.

Owens denies that, of course. He says he's happy. I'm not saying he isn't, but reports like today's remind me that what we see isn't always real. Or often even close.

In addition to all his other cover images, Terrell Owens may very well become the poster child for this dark truth as well.

My parents always rented. I, on the other hand, have become a homeowner on four different occasions since becoming an adult. People say that’s the American dream, but having someone else fix a leaky roof sounds a little dreamy to me sometimes. With the combination of Hurricane Katrina and the grace of God however, we truly believe the fourth time’s the charm for us. We absolutely love our house, and we absolutely love our neighborhood.

Tonight was neighborhood meeting night. Until tonight, I have never attended a meeting of homeowners. It was interesting, to say the least.

Around sixty people met at a local restaurant, representing approximately forty of the one hundred and three homes in our subdivision. I knew Jennifer, who initiated tonight’s meeting, and she did an admirable job considering where all it went. We do not have a homeowner’s association; in fact, forming one seemed to have been the purpose of tonight’s meeting. Instead, it turned out to be an opportunity for lots of griping, along with the occasional soapbox.

I sat with Al and Marie, new neighbors who have recently relocated from New Orleans. Neither of us had received the neighborhood covenant, though we picked up a copy tonight. I really enjoyed the opportunity to get to visit with them and get to know them a little better. After the meeting, we had the chance to visit with Dennis, a mutual neighbor, which was nice, too. Dennis has been in the neighborhood a long time, and he was very helpful in answering a bunch of questions from us new kids on the block.

In spite of the complaint session, it seems we’re going to start a neighborhood association anyway, and from its inauspicious start tonight, it ought to be an interesting (and volatile) organization. I plan to jump in with both feet (I live for controversy!). Seriously, I look forward to whatever it takes to bring people together, especially my very own neighborhood.

I guess I’m an old fogy in certain ways, and longing for days gone by where neighbors knew each other by name, shared the occasional cup of sugar, and was the first on the scene to cry over tragedy and rejoice over triumphs seems beautiful to me. I’d love to see it happen on my street. In fact, my wife and I have this great idea we’re going to try at Christmastime. We plan to host a little drop-in street party for the eleven houses on our street, complete with Christmas cookies and Christmas music and all that holiday cheer!

But refereeing fights in a homeowner’s association might work, too.

Christmas cookies taste better, but whatever works…

(The Superdome last December on my 1st visit after Katrina)

I've been engaged in a fierce debate for quite some time now, and it reached its zenith today. I wish I could tell you it was over some vital theological concept, or at least some political issue; instead, it was whether I would try to go to a football game tonight or not.

It was a foregone conclusion that I would go to the reopening of the Superdome tonight (Saints versus Falcons) when the idea first arose a few months ago now. I had always wanted to attend a Monday Night Football game, not to mention the fact that the very idea of being there when the Superdome took the center stage of the world once more would be a very cool thing to do. Add to that the fact that the city of New Orleans believes their #1 draft pick, Reggie Bush, is the savior of the Big Easy, and that tonight will be his home debut... well, it was obvious that this would be a very special game.

But a few factors complicated things for me...

* My wife surprised me with the Father's Day gift of all Father's Day gifts: tickets to a Monday Night Football game in Texas Stadium in October (which made the Saints game a little less "necessary" in my little sports mind)

* The Saints sold out their entire season through season tickets (which made purchasing a ticket a bit pricey (over $100 bucks a few weeks back at stubhub.com - recently climbing to well over $200 a ticket)

* I took two very tiring trips this past week, and I am really, really tired (and the trip would get me back home around 2am)

Still, the debate wasn't over until about thirty minutes ago. In fact, I dressed today ready for a football game just in case that side won, and I filled up my car with gas and checked the weather for New Orleans and all sorts of other things just in case...

On the "go" side, there's this part of me that lives for experiences. Tonight in New Orleans qualifies as one of those "once in a lifetime" things, if anything does, and it is hard for me to pass that up. I also found out last week that U2 and Greenday would be in concert before the game tonight, and seeing Bono in person would be quite unforgettable. And, both the Saints and the Falcons are undefeated, so it just might be a really good football game, too!

On the "don't go" side, there's the fact that my eyelids are already heavy this afternoon, and not getting home until 2am or so with the alarm set at 5:30am tomorrow would be the least bit stupid. And, there's the fact that I don't have a ticket, and though I have no doubt I can find someone that will sell me one on the street corner (along with a plasma television set), the amount of money that might cost could pose a problem. And, I could go to jail for buying it. There's that.

But I just couldn't decide all day long. For reasons I won't bore you with, my critical decision time was set at 3:50pm. I had to decide then. At 3:47pm, I still was completely torn.

So I asked my 9-year-old daughter... She has "Open House" at her school tonight, and I asked her opinion. She said, "I'd like for you to go to Open House, but then again, I know you want to go to the football game, too."

That was enough to tip me over the edge.

When I think of it, her 4th grade Open House is "once in a lifetime," too... Plus, she's more talented than Bono and Reggie Bush put together anyway...

After Bible classes this morning, we enjoyed a tasty church fellowship meal to honor the ladies of the "bear ministry." For over ten years now, these ladies have come together every Thursday evening to make cute little teddy bears that are given to children in our local hospital. In particular, the meal was to commemorate their 10,000th bear! Dana, a nurse at the Ocean Springs Hospital, came to tell everyone how much the bears mean to the children.

This morning, I sort of got to take a break! Travis, one of our top hurricane relief friends, asked for the opportunity to preach this morning, and I happily agreed to give him the experience. He did an absolutely great job. Travis is an amazing young man. In addition to being a talented young preacher who is majoring in Bible at Freed-Hardeman University, this guy, in his early 20s, is talented in every single phase of the house-building process (he has hung sheetrock, floated it, done trim work, and roofed houses for our relief efforts). He is also a firefighter. And, I found out yesterday, he can absolutely crush a golf ball! Travis is one of those people that I can think of that makes Hurricane Katrina a positive experience for me.

I'm watching the Cardinals play the Astros on ESPN right now in the final game of their four game series. This, of course, is a very bad way to end an overall good day.
:-(

It's late.

We all had a great time on the way home today. We stopped at Gray's Plantation on the Audubon Golf Trail in Lake Charles, Louisiana. It is a course WAY too nice for me to be allowed on it, but they took my money anyway. I shot a 114, which isn't bad for me in the first place, especially on a course this nice (and difficult). We had a lot of fun.

The best part of the day, however, came during dinner at the Texas Roadhouse in Lake Charles. There we saw the unbelievable ending of the Arkansas/Alabama football game!!! Go Hogs!!!

No, the best part of the day was actually hanging out with some cool friends and talking about just about everything. Really good stuff...

Got to get some sleep. Good night!

A picture up close and personal with David Eckstein tonight at Minute Maid Park...

Eckstein made his return to the starting lineup by leading off with a home run to the Crawford boxes in left field. It was the first of four home runs in the game. Eckstein had a great night in an exciting game, but the Astros came back to win it in the bottom of the ninth on Craig Biggio’s walk-off single. Even though I’m a Cardinals fan, I had to applaud a great game and a great performance by a class act like Biggio. It was his night (I’m sure I’ll be hearing the chant – “Bee – Gee – Oh” – in my sleep tonight!).

Thirteen guys from church made the trip to Houston today, and it has been perfect. Good weather, no traffic problems, a great hotel, first class guys, and an exciting game. What more can you ask for?

I was "fed at the Shed" for lunch today. "The Shed" is quickly becoming a local legend on the Gulf Coast. When my wife and I moved to South Mississippi, we were amazed by the wonderful seafood, but we complained a bit on the side at the lack of good barbecue places. "The Shed" was our first saving grace (though since then we've found a few other places we really like, too).

I ate lunch there at the request of Veto, a reporter from The Mississippi Press, who wanted to interview me for an article he's putting together on the use of the Internet in ministry. Who would've thunk that what you're reading now is newsworthy?!?! We had a great discussion about the topic, along with religion in general. We also had some great barbecue (a pork sandwich, tater salad, and baked beans for me!).

When Veto called, since we've never met, he thought he'd better tell me how to spot him. "I look Amish," he said. I replied with, "Well, I'm tall, skinny, and balding." We had absolutely no trouble picking each other out of the crowd. :-)

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Tonight I had the pleasure of attending a surprise 30th birthday party for my friend, Herman. We've become really good friends (I caught myself after Hurricane Katrina introducing him to folks that descended on our church as my "best" friend, a term I haven't used like that in a long time). I've had the pleasure of baptizing Herman, officiating his wedding, and most importantly, going to the Final Four in the Superdome with him (just kidding about the "most importantly" part!!!). So it was great to be able to be a part of his surprise party tonight. Lots of our friends from church were there, and Samantha (Herman's wife) did a great job putting together a wonderful party and slideshow of Herman's life!

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I've blogged every day since I began "Minutes to Memories," but tomorrow is iffy. Fourteen men from church are headed to Houston tomorrow to watch the Cardinals play the Astros at Minute Maid Park. I'm not sure if my hotel room will have a wireless connection, and even if it does, I haven't decided for sure if I'm going to bother with bringing my laptop. We'll see.

But if I don't post tomorrow night, I'm sure I'll be back at it on Saturday.

Have a great weekend everyone!!!

Eleven hours of driving today: three hours from Birmingham to Centerville, Tennessee, where I officiated a funeral, then an eight hour trip home. I'm whipped.

Of course driving somewhere you've never been before has its interesting moments:

* I was somewhere near James K. Polk's house, and it isn't every day you're that close to the home of the 11th president of the United States.

* I was near the Jack Daniels distillery, too. This, in case you didn't know, is a national historic site.

* I think I was in Minnie Pearl's hometown today. I rode around the city square when I got there, and I swear that was a statue of her in the middle of the square. I could have been delirious, but at that point of the day I wasn't too sleepy (nor had I toured the Jack Daniels distillery).

But the best part of the day was nature. Centerville had a morning low in the 40s, but the afternoon high was in the upper 60s with bright sunshine, blue skies, and a cool breeze. Add to the weather the fact that the leaves were just beginning to change colors, and my backroads Tennessee drive took me back some breathtaking views. The picture above is of the Duck River. It was so impressive that I had to stop my car and walk down the highway bridge to take a few pictures, although the picture doesn't do it justice.

But now I have to get some sleep....

The picture (and quote) is from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famed “Letter From a Birmingham Jail.” That letter, originally composed on scraps of newspaper and toilet tissue, is one of the most amazing documents of all time (in my humble opinion). In it, Dr. King responds to critics that claimed his fight for justice created too much conflict, and called for less showdowns with the authorities and more quiet talks. With a lot of newfound time on his hands (in a jail cell), he took the time to frame his response.

For some reason, I think tonight’s “Blog From a Birmingham Motel” won’t be as enduring in American history.

There are some similarities, however. For one, we are both writing in the same town (though he was in prison, and I am on my way to preach a funeral). For another, he and I share the same occupation (ministers) as well as the same time of life (both in our mid-30s).

Yet there are glaring differences. For one, our settings are quite different. Some may claim that Super 8 is not that much different from jail, but I suspect my accommodations are much more friendly (I mean, I doubt there was cute little “conditioning shampoo” bottles in Dr. King’s cell). But even more importantly, King was on the leading edge of a landmark fight for justice. And I’m not.

Now it isn’t because the fight for justice doesn’t grab hold of my heart…

* My years living in residential childcare attached my heart to the cause of abused and neglected children. It makes me crazy to realize that there are millions and millions of folks who claim to follow Jesus in this country while there are dadgum pictures on the Internet of kids without homes, all with no response. Give my family a couple of years and there will be one less kid’s picture out there. For starters.

* And the cause of poverty housing is important to me, too. Begin with Habitat for Humanity and continue through Hurricane Katrina, and I’ve seen firsthand this problem in the United States of America. The richest nation on the planet can’t seem to care enough to provide simple, decent housing for all its people.

* I’m just getting wound up on the cause of Single Parents. I first heard single-parent families referred to as “modern-day widows and orphans” in a recent phone conversation with Pam Willingham. That definition is apropos. And who is doing something about these modern-day widows and orphans?

So it isn’t that there isn’t injustice in my world; it isn’t that there aren’t causes to fight for and take risks for and possibly die for… And it isn’t that I don’t care, or that I don’t do anything at all about it…

It’s just that I take a look at Dr. King’s eyes in that jail cell, and I see someone so much deeper into it than me. So much more passionate. So much more committed to the cause.

Well, it isn’t jail, but maybe a little quiet time in Birmingham will do me some good, too.

Today wasn’t very dramatic, which was welcomed. The rest of the week promises plenty of drama, so one day that seemed almost routine was nice. Lots of office work: phone calls to make, thoughts to prepare, and emails a-plenty…

The picture above provided a small bit of drama I guess. A really impressive little storm blew in around the time to pick up Hillary from school. The wind was very powerful, and the rain intense for about 20 minutes I guess. The picture is a slice of normal life for me: sitting in line at the elementary school with my little placard declaring my child. This is my fifth year to battle that crazy traffic. You’d think I’d be used to it by now?!

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Some of you have read my primitive poetry. I’m only somewhat embarrassed to say that I’ve already lost the poetry mood. It’s been fun, however, and I feel like I’ve composed three somewhat “real” poems. Plus, if the urge ever strikes me again, at least I know where to start. I submitted these three poems to a real poetry magazine, and I received my nice little rejection letter yesterday. That didn’t cause me to give up (I’d already done that). I’ve just learned that it doesn’t hurt to take a shot at something anyway, so that’s what I did. I've been rejected before, and if I ever intend to accomplish anything in life, I'll be rejected again. Nothing but another little bump in a long road.

Upon the rejection notice, however, I decided to share these three finished (for me) poems for your reading pleasure. You can let me know what you really think if you wish… I’m kind of nervous, however: I haven’t even shared the one about my dad with my family, and it’s kind of raw I guess. I hope they’re received well…

Here goes...

ALBERT STURGEON, JR. (AN ELEGY)

Nothing reminds me of home like a pack of Camel cigarettes.
My dad smoked them, and then we shot Havlicek jumpers at his shoes
With the wadded-up packs. I hated the putrid smell of the smoke,
And knew I’d never take it up. But he did, so I loved it, too.

My dad was tough. He smoked hard cigarettes and had drank hard liquor.
He once cleared a bar with a pool cue and spent the night behind bars.
He had fought the Japanese, and he never cried. He lived his life
Without a shirt, his sun-weathered skin, barrel chest, and thick forearms

Nicked and bruised and spotted with “monkey blood.” His bicep sported a
Tattoo of a battleship with the name, Ruby, below. I was
Stupid enough for years to think that was the ship’s name. No matter.
I loved his toughness. Because he was my dad, and he loved me.

He was tough enough to kiss me on the lips and offer his lap
As a seat until I was too big. He called me “booger” and his
Grandkids, “tootie-wumps.” He was tough enough to sing songs like, “I know
A song, ain’t very long, toodle-up, toodle-up, now it’s all gone.”

He was tough enough to spend hours on end playing catch with me.
His toughness came from a hard life. Growing up in the Depression,
Becoming a man at war, and growing old carving sides of beef
As a butcher shapes a man’s perspective. His perspective shaped me.

When I fell down, he’d say “That’ll feel better when it stops hurting.”
He cussed like the sailor he was, using nigger and goddammit
With ease. Church was fine for us, but not for him, and yet none of this
Fazes me. He came from a different era, and he loved me.

He’d offer “a big onion and cup of coffee” as birthday gifts,
But it was no secret that his heart melted for his family.
I still see him with a flip-over baloney sandwich before
Heading outside to do “something.” Undefeated by life. My dad.




AUGUST 29, 2005

The nightmare opens with a piano
Sitting silent on Martin Avenue,
Illumined by flashlight amid darkness
While Katrina sings her sinister tune.

Two flashlights traverse the debris-strewn road
Like a crazy cat with twinkling eyes.
They are policemen courageously searching
For life, though they themselves are traumatized.

Katrina howls her haunting melody,
Over and over she whistles her scales.
A busted gas main hisses harmony,
Their music casting a hypnotic spell.

I begin climbing Destruction Mountain
Stepping on sofas, bedposts, like King Kong.
I shine my light ahead and see tree ghosts,
Bed sheets and clothes dance to Katrina’s song.

The nightmare pauses for intensity,
Leaving unforgettable images:
Hot breath, wind hiss, salt taste, gas smell, tree ghosts,
And a silent piano in darkness.




ONCE SEEN IN EATON, ARKANSAS

Old men in overalls fresh out of church
Sit in the shade as the meal is prepared;
Ladies busy with casserole dishes
And award-winning pies from county fairs.

The children still have on their Sunday clothes,
Now sticky with sweat from a game of chase.
The young men throw an old baseball around
Out by the oak tree that serves as first base.

An aunt goes in search of a cheek to pinch.
An uncle decides to sit for a spell.
The family historian writes down notes.
A cousin plugs a new product for sale.

A new car arrives with out-of-state tags.
Grandmama says, “Look who came after all!”
A tow’l-covered box comes out of the trunk,
Along with a cane so the man won’t fall.

Someone proclaims that it’s time to begin.
Granddaddy gives thanks to the Lord above.
As I bow now I can still remember
Old family reunions. Old family love.

After "church" this morning, Jody, Hillary and I went to Biloxi for their annual Seafood Festival. True to our Arkansas roots, we ate smoked sausage, a hot dog, and a rib plate (respectively) at a SEAFOOD festival! There was a nice crowd, good music, lots of vendors, LOTS of good food to choose from (even though we skipped paying the extra five bucks for the gumbo cook-off), but the weather was HOT!!!!! We didn't stay a long time. After eating and wandering and standing in line a long time to get Hillary a cherry snow-cone, we headed back to the house.

Our worship time was interesting this morning. I've been preaching through Matthew, and taking it as it comes, my topic today was "divorce" (from Matthew 5: 31-32). I was a bit nervous taking on this difficult and emotional topic, but I thought it went well over all.

After my sermon, one of my elders motioned for me to come to the back with him (which is really bad karma after preaching a sermon on a controversial topic!), and when I made it to the lobby, I saw our friends, Tandy and Peggy. They had come late with the news that Mrs. Louise (Peggy's mother) had passed away this morning. Peggy had the great idea of tacking on an impromptu memorial service to the end of our worship, and this is what we did. It was simply beautiful.

I began by requesting that folks who love Tandy and Peggy to come and surround them, and it was moving to see the people come to comfort them. They had people sitting around them, between them, almost on top of them!!! I said a few words off the cuff, then our song leader (Trent) led a couple of songs Peggy had requested ("A Beautiful Life" and "I'll Fly Away"). Afterwards, I had the chance to say a few more words and then close with a prayer. Then, the hugging began in earnest.

And it was good.

Peggy asked if it was possible for me to travel to Tennessee and officiate the funeral this week, and after a bit of rearranging, it is going to work out. And I'm glad. It's an honor to return one of the many good deeds that this wonderful couple has offered us over the years...

Tonight, I pray that God bless Tandy and Peggy, and that He will tell Mrs. Louise "hi" from all of us.

Not much time to blog tonight - I have to get to studying for my lessons tomorrow...

I got to spend the afternoon/evening with my friends Matt and Tracy at the Southern Miss / N.C. State football game. We had a great time: the weather was perfect, our seats were good, and the game was awesome as Southern just pounded the Wolfpack. Damian Fletcher, a freshman from Biloxi whom I watched play basketball a few times in the past couple of years, put on a show for the Golden Eagles. He's VERY impressive.

We didn't finish all the ceiling tiles at church this morning, but we came very close. I hate not finishing something, but sometimes you just don't have enough people and time to get everything done. It will still be there for another day.

I'm 36 years old today. I had the chance to take my college daughter out to eat at Applebee's before the game tonight: she looked so pretty, and I'm so proud of her. My mom and my sisters all called today, and I also got to talk to my "twin" (smile) cousin, Amy, who is also celebrating a birthday today.

It's been a good day. But I know I won't get enough sleep tonight!!!

Our fearless leader, Matt, works replacing ceiling tiles at the church building tonight... Ten of us showed up last night. Eight came tonight. Tomorrow morning is the "real" work day, and I hope there will be a good turnout then. We've accomplished a lot in the last couple of nights, but there's still quite a bit to get done tomorrow. I was paired up with my friend, Tom, tonight, and he got on a roll in the very difficult section around the air conditioning ducts. We worked nonstop for 4 1/2 hours, but we got our side completely done. All I did was pick up tiles and hand them to Tom, but my arms are already hurting in places I didn't know existed! Tomorrow morning they'll feel REALLY good, I'm sure!

I got a surprise early birthday when I got home close to 11pm tonight! Hillary had made me a football birthday cake, and she and Jody gave me their gifts (my birthday is 24 minutes away!): Hillary gave me a HUGE Sudoku book and a mask she made at pottery camp, while Jody gave me the book, "The Great Deluge" (about Hurricane Katrina). I'm looking forward to getting to see Erica on my birthday tomorrow afternoon.

Today I had lunch at the elementary school with Hillary, which is always fun! I had a good burrito with salsa, potatoes, and a tasty fruit dessert. Plus, I had a GREAT roll. Schools make the very best rolls in the whole world. It was fun sitting with my daughter and her friends - it won't be long until she won't allow me there, so I'm trying to enjoy it for as long as I can.

I've got to take a shower and get some sleep! Good night, everyone! I'll be 36 years old before I can even get to bed!!!

Those of you who have been to our “old” house might recognize it from this picture. We sold it to a local contractor about ten months ago now, and as you can tell from the picture, his major accomplishment has been to park a truck in the driveway.

I went out to our old neighborhood today to take a few pictures of the Little’s house. They are friends of one of our church family members, and our church has been helping them rebuild. After snapping a few pictures from the outside, I decided to drive by our old house, though I don’t know why I torture myself like that. Every time I see it, I’m filled with this enormous sense of embarrassment. Even though it isn’t ours, it just tears me up to know that our old neighbors, Brian and Tammy (and their kids, Shannon and Briana), have to look at that crap every day. I just hate it.

I spent a couple of hours at the hospital today visiting with Peggy (who was sitting with her mother, Mrs. Louise). Mrs. Louise’s broken hip needs to be operating on, but she has a bevy of doctors who all need to sign off on the surgery before it will happen. And her health is not good. So far, the lung doctor has refused to agree to surgery every day: Mrs. Louise just wouldn’t make it. Some time after I left, Mrs. Louise nearly made the decision moot for everyone when her oxygen levels began to drop dramatically. Peggy rushed to her side and kissed her goodbye, but the nurses rushed in and were able to help things improve. Life and death issues going on every day in that hospital.

Some of you Church of Christ folks will know the name of Joe Beam. He’s getting a whole lot of press with his traveling sex talks. He was on the front page of MSNBC today, and he is scheduled to appear on the Today Show. Ought to provide a lot of fodder for discussion all around.

We began work on replacing the ceiling tiles in our auditorium tonight. Ten guys showed up to begin the pain-in-the-neck project, about half of the older men, and half the younger men. It was actually pretty enjoyable, maybe most especially because the older men and the younger men got to hang out together. That doesn’t happen nearly enough.

A couple of chapters left in Dave Barry’s Big Trouble. I think I’ll read some before hitting the bed.

Good night, everyone.

My day began at the Ocean Springs City Hall for a monthly meeting between area church leaders and our mayor. It turned out that the mayor couldn’t make it, but that didn’t stop us from having a really good meeting. The major topic became serving the poor, since Jerry came to represent the floundering Samaritan Ministries. After Katrina, hurricane relief has taken center stage, and simply serving the poor who aren’t hurricane victims has taken a backseat. We discussed at length today the problem, and though we didn’t develop any firm solutions, at least the topic was broached and the dialogue begun.

In addition to Jerry (from the Presbyterian church) and myself, the following leaders were present: Mitchell and Cliff from St. Paul United Methodist, Carlton from Victory Full Gospel, Kim from Emmanuel Baptist, Jesse from Macedonia Baptist, Marcia from St. John’s Episcopal, David from Wesley United Methodist, and Bruno, a retired UCC pastor who worships at St. John’s. Out of everyone, I was especially glad to see Bruno. He spent his summer as the chaplain at the Chautauqua Institute in New York, which looks to be a fascinating experience. I’ve decided that I could learn a lot from Bruno, a fact I brought up just before he left for the summer. He remembered today, and I’m truly interested in making plans to sit and learn from him. I know I’ll be better for having done so.

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Class went well tonight. With my birthday coming up Saturday, the kids made me a HUGE card in their class (and they made Herman one, too). They were so proud sneaking it downstairs and presenting it to me after class. I guarantee it will have a very special place in my office!

At the end of class, I showed a video that grabbed my heart. I want you to watch the video, but you have to read the article from Rick Reilly (Sports Illustrated) first. So read the article below, then click on the video link that follows. You can thank me for changing your life for the better later!

Strongest Dad in the World
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

``He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain.''

``Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want to do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.''

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

[Click HERE to watch the video]

What's in a hospital? Oh, I know what you'll say: patients and medicines, doctors and nurses, bad food and huge medical bills... And you'd be right. But there's much more there, too. There is one particular hospital in Jonesboro, Arkansas, that contains memories of both of my daughters births, along with the painful memory of my dad's final breath. And the Ocean Springs Hospital has its special places, too. Of Karen Mize's final days last week. And of Mrs. Louise's struggle as I write today.

Mrs. Louise was a talented artist and a high-energy go-getter LONG before we got to know her. By the time we came into her life, she was a stubborn survivor. A horrible accident and a massive stroke didn't leave much room for hope when she moved in with her daughter and son-in-law 23 years ago, but just a little hope and a lot of fight proved to be enough. And she's still fighting.

Mrs. Louise fell and hurt her hip Sunday night, and the first report came back that she had broken the ball completely off her hip. Upon further examination, it was determined that the ball isn't there! No one knows for sure how long it had been since it had deteriorated.

She is having a hard time breathing today, and although that is normal, it is now much worse. She is having a hard time communicating today, and although that is normal, too, it has also worsened. When I visited her today, Tandy and Peggy had stepped out for about an hour. I said a prayer with Mrs. Louise and held her hand. She was able to say "okay" to a couple of questions through the oxygen mask as she fought to take every single breath.

But a fighter is what she is. And the hospital knows it.

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Today involved putting my class for Sunday together, as well as fighting a computer to extract a video that I want to play at the end of my Wednesday class (which will be GREAT if it actually works!).

I got to eat lunch with our friends from Killen again today. The cook insisted I stay and eat, and I didn't fight her very hard. We had a very good spinach/cornbread sort of casserole, Italian cole slaw, orange "stuff" (congealed salad), and some cherry cobbler. Excellent all around... This work crew is working at Larry and Jo's house, and I learned today that Jo isn't doing well. Larry has his continued heart condition, but now Jo is having a very hard time with her legs. How does it sound losing every possession you worked all your life to acquire, followed by losing your health? I praise God for folks from Alabama who continue to come and help this family.

I enjoyed ladies' class this morning. I know that sounds funny, since I am of the male gender you know, but after they roped me into teaching years ago, I discovered that this is one of my favorite things. We began sorting through the mess known as Romans chapter eleven today, and we made it halfway through. If nothing else, it inspired my bulletin article for this week!

I've just finished another three chapters in Brian McLaren's book, "A New Kind of Christian." One of my great email friends, Tom, sent me three McLaren books to see what I thought about them. I began this book recently, but last week was so nuts that I had to put my reading on hold. I climbed back into the book today and reintroduced myself to Dan and Neo and their venture into postmodern Christianity. Very good, yet familiar stuff for me so far...

As of now, there's nothing major planned for tonight (which, although that is the only night like this on the calendar this week, I'll take what I can get!). I hope to get a chance to read a little Dave Barry, do a little jogging (if these storm clouds cooperate), and hang out with my family (if homework doesn't mess with that too much).

Happy Tuesday!

The picture is of Marvel and Charlene and Jody, the last folks standing after our S.P.I.N. Ministry meeting tonight. I am REALLY excited that our young adult group has chosen "single parents" as a group to reach out toward and help, and things are getting better all the time. Our SPIN group serves Single Parents In Need, and on December 2, we will have our first major event, something we're calling the Single Parent Network. Stick around, and I'll tell you all about as it comes together! It ought to be really exciting!

Speaking of exciting, my phone rang somethink like a BILLION times today!!! Sheesh!!! Mondays are usually fairly quiet, and I get a lot of things done. Today was extremely hectic, and I got a lot done, but I really don't know how. My major task each Monday is to assemble my Peak of the Week Class for Wednesday night, and it is downright miraculous that I pretty much got it together today. And, oddly enough, I sort of feel like this one might be GREAT! If you are in the area Wednesday night, you might not want to miss it!

I got to eat lunch with the group from Killen, and it was really, really good. Jody fixed some great hamburgers for supper tonight, where we celebrated with Heath and Laura on their new jobs located today!

It's been a good day. And to top it off, all three of my fantasy football teams won their week number one games (sorry David and Cole and John!).

Sleep well, everyone...

This picture is some good stuff now.

Some of you heard the story about Hillary and Reagan. My daughter had two best friends in second grade, Reagan and Christina. Third grade had barely started when Katrina hit, and Reagan never returned. Hillary and Christina were heartbroken to lose their friend, and they had no idea where she had gone. Things got worse later in the year when Christina’s family moved to Iowa. Hillary broke my heart when she told me how hard it was to lose her two best friends.

Then just before this school year started, we were surprised to run into Reagan who had just moved back into the area!!! I wish you all could have seen that hug! This picture is of the two reunited friends yesterday afternoon after Hillary got to spend the night with Reagan. I’m telling you – good stuff…

We had a nice day today. Worship and class went well, and we enjoyed having some friends over for lunch (Keith and Cryste and their girls joined us and Heath and Laura): pot roast and the fixings! I finally beat Heath at darts after he embarrassed my family name with a good dart-whipping yesterday!

The Cowboys lost today, but my three fantasy football teams are doing well. I’m sitting here watching the Manning brothers go at it in an exciting Sunday night game.

I’m not resting too well tonight. I’m worried for our friends, Tandy and Peggy. Peggy’s mother fell and broke her hip today, and on top of that, is having other health complications. Last week began sort of like this, so we’ll have to see what this week holds.

Good night everyone.

The funeral went well today, other than a little confusion over some songs, but things worked out fine as they always do. It was really encouraging to see a good contingent from church make the hour drive through back roads to pay their respects. Mrs. Karen will be missed by many.

The picture above is of the Habitat for Humanity house that was dedicated in Ocean Springs today. The only problem with my day was that I had been asked to say a few words at the dedication, but because of the funeral I had to back out. Laura and Kellie, the new homeowners, had asked me to come and speak, so I really hated to let them down. After the funeral, I dropped by to say how sorry I was to miss it and to congratulate them on their beautiful new home, but they weren’t there. So I took a few pictures of their house and promised myself that I’d try again soon.

This was the first of the John Grisham houses for our affiliate to be completed. Back in the craziness after the storm, THE John Grisham called our church building asking for me! One of his many friends on the Coast had given him my name (my favorite fact to point out!) as a contact for Habitat for Humanity (in fact, I began this affiliate). Mr. Grisham was so very gracious when I spoke with him, and must be gracious with his money, too. If I remember correctly, he gave our affiliate $300,000 in the form of six houses. Laura and Kelli’s was the first completed, with five more in the works in the city of Gautier.

I’m feeling kind of drained, but I think I might mow my front yard this evening anyway. It needs it. I’m also interested in watching the Ohio State / Texas game on television later on.

Happy Saturday everyone.

Here’s the picture Korky referred to in a recent comment: Karen working the front table after Hurricane Katrina. She truly was the first face many folks encountered when they came to the Ocean Springs Church of Christ in desperate need of supplies. It couldn’t have been a better first experience for them all. It will be sad to say good-bye to Karen tomorrow at the cemetery.

My day began early on the phone with Karen’s son, David, as we continue to get ready for the funeral. Following that, I spent some good time with our youth minister, Trent. We try to meet every Friday to talk about what’s going on with him, and I really enjoyed our time today. Trent has his heart in the right place, and that is all-important.

After a heavy week, I felt like getting out of the office and doing something different.

I began by getting my oil changed in my car at Eagle Express. They’ve been doing this for me for years now, and being the creature of habit that I am, I never go anywhere else.

After that, I went down to Cox’s Barber Shop for a haircut. This usually makes people laugh, since I basically have no hair anyway. It gets scraggly for me, though, and I feel better when it’s done. I noticed that they outsmarted my theory, however: they’ve been charging eight bucks for a long time now. Since I’m a cheapskate (and don’t think my amount of hair warrants eight bucks anyway), I don’t ever tip. I’ve thought that when they make it nine bucks that I’d start tipping a buck. Oh well. They’re charging ten now. Skip the middle man, you know.

Then I went to Blue’s Barbecue for lunch. I love that place. I had the special of the day: a pork sandwich with a side of tater salad and a fountain drink. Five-and-a-half bucks plus tax. I ran into Debbie from the post office while I was there.

Then I went to the library for a while, one of my favorite places in the world when I need to get away from everything. I haven’t been in the “fun” reading mood for a little while now (since finishing a GREAT book by Anne Tyler, “Saint Maybe”). But after a heavy week, I kind of wanted to read something to escape a bit. I wandered up and down the aisles of fiction, stopping at the classics I recognized, but not wanting anything that deep. I hit the jackpot in the B’s when I noticed Dave Barry had written a novel! I picked it up and carried it around to make sure that was it. I stopped at a Garrison Keillor book about Wobegon, and I stopped at a couple of Anne Lamott novels, and I stopped again at a Jesus book by a professor from Southern Miss – but in the end I was in a Dave Barry sort of mood so I sat down to start reading it. That’s when things got a little more interesting.

A lady came to use one of the computers, and I recognized her right off. She had come to our church one night wearing a clergy collar, although she looked more homeless than anything. I tried to talk to her that night, but she really wasn’t much of a conversationalist. The next day I saw her walking down the side of the road still in that black shirt and clergy collar. Well anyway, today she came in wearing a Confederate soldier cap. I should mention that she is black, just because that added to the sight of her wearing a Confederate soldier cap. Anyhow, she sat down at the computer and put on headphones. While she surfed the Internet and listened to someone or something, she began having a loud conversation. We, of course, could only hear one side, but that was interesting enough. At one point, she loudly proclaimed where she would like to place her foot in somebody's specific body part and what she’d like to do with that foot. At this point, I’m thinking that I don’t need Dave Barry to be entertained. Eventually, she got up and put on her personal headphones with classical music blaring and walked out of the library. This world is an interesting place.

When I got home, I decided today was the day to mow my backyard. I never enjoy this, but today it was sort of relaxing to do something that didn’t involve thinking. When I got a little over halfway done, Heath came outside and offered to help. While he finished mowing, I did the weedeating, and the job went a whole lot faster than normal. After we finished, he and I tossed the football around awhile while he and I and Laura talked. It was very nice.

I had planned on going to watch Ocean Springs play Tylertown in some high school football action tonight, but I’m choosing to rest a bit instead. I need to work on the eulogy for tomorrow and get some sleep. So that is what I will do.

The picture is of Tristen, Connor, Freddy, Gavin, and Hillary this afternoon at the first Kids’ Club of the year! Kids’ Club was an idea my daughter had a couple of years ago, and they absolutely love it! It’s one afternoon a week after school for all kids from Kindergarten through 5th grade to come have a snack, do homework, have a Bible study, and then do something special and fun! It was my baby the first year, then last year’s storm put a damper on it for half the school year. Then, when we hired Trent to be our new youth minister, he took it over. It’s his baby now, and though I LOVE KIDS CLUB (!), I also love that he’s forming relationships with these kids at such an early age. They will have an AWESOME youth group when they get to be teens, and it’s approaching very soon.

Looking at the faces of these precious kids is a bit bittersweet today, though, after officiating a funeral of a stillborn child named Alex. There were four people at the funeral other than me: the parents of Alex, and a couple who are their relatives/friends. The funeral director (who after years of funerals now I know too well) stood in the back of the room while I talked for a few minutes and the young attendants cried. I keep thinking that Alex will never go to Kids’ Club.

What can you really say on occasions like this? I used my most comforting voice and said lots of very true and very wonderful things I’ve learned from Jesus, but what really helps? One thing might have helped: I told a story I’ve told a million times now that seemed to have an effect. The story goes that the jungle tribe was frightened of the river they believed to be filled with evil spirits. When the plague broke, the missionary did his best to convince them that it was safe to cross the river to find help, but to no avail. He splashed in the water, but they were not convinced. Eventually, he dove into the river, swam underwater to the other bank, emerged from the river and thrust his fist in the air. The jungle tribe cheered! Like Jesus, you see, who submerged himself in our greatest fear and emerged on the other side victorious, telling us that it’s okay.

Alex’s father smiled a faint smile at this story and looked me in the eye the whole time. It was obvious he bought the story. As do I.

I did my best to prepare two eulogies this morning: one for a baby who died after thirty minutes in this world, and the other for a sixty-two year old woman who left behind family and friends. I found it strange that the messages are so similar.

I’m blogging this afternoon because I want to get to bed tonight at a decent hour. It has been a rough week.

There’s lots of good things, too, in addition to the rough: Heath and Laura bought shrimp today and are cooking supper for us tonight. Hillary has her first “jazz” dance class of the year this evening. The NFL season kicks off tonight, and my fantasy teams have high hopes that Chris Chambers will catch a couple of touchdown passes and that Jeff Reed will kick lots of long field goals. Maybe I’ll get a chance to watch.

Another day of a full life.

I’m about to explode from the beehive that was “today,” but it was a great day for people.

* I got to play Santa Claus and deliver hurricane relief checks to both Kim and Gayle today and watch them cry tears of joy.
* I got to hang out with Charlie a little while and talk about the work he’s doing to get a family back in their home. Charlie’s mudding and painting skills are invaluable right now.
* I got to show Laura and Heath my sports wall in between their job hunting today and show off my Dallas Cowboys collection in particular.
* I got to visit with Mrs. Bea today about her grandson’s scary health situation. Brandon is a special guy, and we are awaiting an important visit to M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston.
* I got to spend an hour with David today concerning the death of his mother. In the middle of such a tragic occurrence, and in the middle of all the decisions that have been thrust on him, he still finds ways to make me smile and encourage me.
* I got to spend an hour with Keith and Marcie, my co-committee members for our new SPIN ministry (for Single Parents in Need), planning the program for our first Single Parent Conference. Both Keith and Marcie are brilliant and wonderful, and we got an awful lot done in a short amount of time.
* I got to take Hillary to her first ever Trampoline Class (see the picture of the new in-ground trampoline!). She did great and had a blast, too!
* I got to teach class to a bunch of great people tonight on the Parable of the Tower. Even though I was running non-stop right up until class time, I thought it went over well.
* I got to talk to my elder, Dave, after class last night. He is an amazing man, and I’m lucky to be under his care.
* I got a call from Quadrick, a fellow preacher in town, after class tonight. It seems that a couple who had a stillborn child needs a minister to say some words at a funeral tomorrow. I don’t have much time at all it seems, but there is no one else, so I will do it.
* I got a hundred emails or so, but tonight I heard from my friend, John, in north Mississippi. That made my day all by itself.
* And somewhere in between all this, I actually prepared my sermon for this coming Sunday regarding “lust and relationships.” Contrary to popular rumor, I will not be using object lessons. :-)

A pretty busy day on five hours of sleep, if I do say so myself.

It’s after midnight. I’m doing poorly in the sleep department, but our conversations the past two nights with Laura and Heath have been wonderful. I’m really hoping it works out for them to be down here on a regular basis someday. We took them out to dinner at Café New Orleans tonight (the Cajun Sampler for me), only to come home to talk for hours afterwards. It has been great having them here. It feels as if Laura is an old friend, and it took Heath about two seconds to be part of the family, too. He has impressed me a lot in the short time I’ve known him. (Hillary took my picture with Laura today.)

But Karen died. And this automatically qualifies today as a bad day.

I hate death. I hate leaving a hospital and watching folks on their merry way when death is in the air close by. The world seems so unaware, like it doesn’t care. It doesn’t seem to miss a beat. I hate noticing that I myself am soon on my merry way, too. But the world around me has missed a significant beat. I can’t help but notice today.

This morning I prepared my class for Sunday on suffering. Like the world needs a class on it. There seems plenty to go around with or without a class.

And I didn’t go jogging tonight, breaking my three-day consecutive string. I hope I won’t fall off the wagon completely, but tonight there seemed to be more important things. Like people. Those nearby. And those now gone.

I’ve got to get some sleep.

The drama of last Labor Day was ridiculous. This one couldn’t help but be less dramatic, but it still had plenty enough for me.

Miranda called this morning with the horrible news that they could not wake up her mother. As we spoke, emergency personnel arrived at their house to take Mrs, Karen to our local hospital. Mrs. Karen is one of the kindest, most encouraging people you would ever want to meet, but in spite of her big heart, by mid-afternoon the doctors knew that there had been heart failure in some fashion. She had coded at one point, and things did not look good. I ended up in the MICU waiting room with family members and church friends this afternoon. The room was aptly named, for all we can do now is wait. She is still unresponsive. One of my church elders is a doctor, and he said the next seventy-two hours are critical. So tonight we are waiting. And praying. And concerned.

Then Laura and her husband came to stay a couple of days with our family. I haven’t seen Laura for years now. I taught her when she was in 7th grade, but now she is married and a mother and a beautiful woman. The rumors are true: I am getting old. Laura was an All-State volleyball player in high school, an intimidating middle-blocker for an amazing high school team. Laura is special in her own right, but Laura has always been extra special to me because of her big brother.

Jarrod was one of my favorite players back in my coaching days. He was a troublemaker in a lot of ways, but one of those troublemakers you couldn’t help but love. Jarrod caught me kissing Jody one night (when we were first dating), and Jarrod showed up at our house on our honeymoon (unbeknownst to him!). In between all of his misadventures and bouts with trouble, I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Which made his death at age 19 so tragic for me. Jarrod was out too late one night and showed up at a friend’s house early in the morning hours. His friend was startled to hear someone banging on the door at such an hour and took a gun to the door. The story goes that he had relaxed by the time the gun accidentally discharged, sending the fatal bullet into Jarrod’s brain. I had the sad honor of carrying Jarrod’s casket to the cemetery.

This makes me love Laura a lot, even though we have never spent a lot of time with each other, and even though we haven’t spoken in years. She and her husband are thinking of relocating to the Coast, and they gave us a call last week. We told her to come down and stay with us and have a look around, so she came tonight. It was so good to see her.

My first memories of Laura are of her and her big brother coming to school early in the morning with Jarrod opening the door for his little sister. When my wife was pregnant with our now nine-year-old daughter, we picked out names for a girl and a boy. If she would have been a boy, her middle name would have been Jarrod. That ought to tell you how special it was to see Laura tonight.

So one family friend, full of good memories, is in the middle of tragedy today. And another family friend, formed in tragedy, shared good memories tonight.

Happy Labor Day.

I know I don't really need a blog, but I created one anyway.

I have every intention of keeping this updated with the happenings in my life, but we'll see. I have this odd reputation on one hand of starting things and tenaciously sticking with them, while on the other going through hobbies like a bag of M&M's. I have NO intention of this being an intellectual exercise, however. I'm currently tired of just "thinking!" But I do hope it is interesting; if not, I guess that will be a reflection on my life!

I picked the title of a John Cougar Mellencamp song as the title to my personal blog. I'm not a big music fan, but for some reason, this song has always meant something to me (you can read the chorus above). All of these "days" I've been given do seem to be turning into minutes, and those minutes are quickly turning into memories... And as my well-intentioned plans blow here and there, I've always found encouragement in just trying to tough it out and do my best.

So I thought this blog would be a good way to record these memories for myself and anyone else interested in sharing them with me along the way.

I'd love for you to make comments. I have lots of friends from all sorts of places, and staying in touch in whatever way possible would be a very good thing for me.