Minutes to Memories

An unspeakable tragedy occurred within shouting distance of my office yesterday, though I didn’t learn about it until last night. Police aren’t releasing details yet, so I won’t tell the little bit more I know than was reported by the news media this morning.

A father was supposed to take his nine-month-old baby to daycare, a task he didn’t normally do. He forgot the baby was in his vehicle, and drove to work instead. The baby died from the oppressive heat while buckled in a car seat.

It is hard to imagine a greater tragedy.

The first responder fireman is the brother-in-law of one of our friends. The baby went to daycare with the child of one of our friends. The mother works with three of our friends. The father works less than a hundred yards from our church building.

There are no words for occasions like this. Only a deep, dark silence.

In the initial weeks after Hurricane Katrina struck two years ago, people I think of as God’s Servant-Heroes descended on us from everywhere. Among those heroes of mine was a retired airline pilot from Nashville named Jim Knight.

Jim carries himself as a simple, good-hearted country boy, which immediately endeared him to Gene Logan, one of my elders (and another hero). They became instant buddies, and of all the neat people Gene fell in love with over the course of the next several months, Jim made the short list of favorites.

Somewhere in that crazy post-Katrina world someone told Jim I was a writer, which is quite a stretch. Anyway, Jim does some writing, too, so this initiated a fun conversation. I learned that Jim writes history, which is a big chunk of the way he enjoys retired life. He had a book published on a modern rendering of the story of Bonnie and Clyde, a book he sent me when he made it back home to Nashville.

Jim and I kept up by email along the way, and I was pleased when he jumped in to my ragtag group of young punk bloggers on our Desperate Houseflies blog. Jim wrote under the name Captain MidKnight, and entertained us with some of us historical writings.

After a while, we sort of lost touch, but not too long ago the good Captain reappeared and told me he had sent me a book in the mail. It was “Letters to Anna,” pictured above.

I started reading it on Monday while Hillary was in jazz dance class, and I read an entire third of the book in my first sitting. I couldn’t wait to pick up the story again on Tuesday, and I didn’t go to bed that night until I had finished the book. I enjoyed it that much!

In “Letters to Anna,” Jim tells the story of Burton and Anna Warfield, a distantly related couple who lived through the Civil War. As he tells their story, he masterfully weaves the entire history of the Civil War therein (I think I learned the Civil War better in those two days than in all my old history classes!). Burton spent two of the four war years in various Union prisons, and the correspondence between he and his wife that has miraculously survived are fascinating.

For $12.95 plus shipping, you can go to Amazon.com and get yourself a copy, but I’ve got an even better deal for you. Jim told me he sends out autographed copies himself for $15, which includes shipping.

If you are even the slightest history buff, send me a note and I’ll hook you up with Jim Knight. It will be fifteen bucks well spent.

Katrina Fatigue. That’s a term I’ve heard, and I have to admit that I don’t begrudge it. I’ve been awfully tired of Katrina, too.

Today is the second anniversary of that fateful day when she became part of our national vocabulary, and I’m afraid those who are tired of hearing about her will have to endure her name in one way or another again today. Yet with each passing year, I suspect the remembrance will slowly begin to fade until only the ones of us affected specifically will notice the date.

The rebuilding is far from over, of course, but so many of us who were involved in the day-to-day efforts of that cause are no longer in it day-to-day. I cannot say that it is time for us to move on because so many would be left behind, but there does come a time when shouting to the world is no longer option number one. And I feel that that time has come.

So I’m not going to write some grand treatise on Katrina today, trying to guilt folks into coming to help, or cranking out old stories for nostalgia sake.

Instead, I was thinking…

At some point, in the post-Katrina mess, I had somewhat of an epiphany. One day, out of nowhere, I suddenly knew exactly my goal in it all. I felt as if I had endured a potentially fatal blow in all areas of my life, and I understood that I had a singular goal that extended to three specific areas of my life. I even preached this goal my first sermon in the year 2006 as a theme for the whole year.

I wanted to be a survivor. I wanted this for my immediate family. I wanted this for my church family. I wanted this for my Habitat for Humanity affiliate family. When the worst was over, I wanted all three of these areas of my life to still be standing.

And today, looking back, they are…

By the grace of God shining through humanity from all walks of life, we have survived.

And today, August 29, 2007, I am most thankful.

So I’m watching Good Morning America yesterday and have this little epiphany…

The 12-year-old Little League World Series champs from Warner-Robins, Georgia, are on, and the entire cast of GMA is doing the interview. I think it was Elizabeth Vargas who goes all goofy and tries to ask these young boys how they celebrated the victory. In what wasn’t one of her finest interviewing moments, she asks them if they “painted the town red” (and, of course, no 12-year-old kids have ever even heard that phrase). But the deal was that she was making fun of them. She was laughing as she tried to make up for her poor choice of words, wondering how in the world 12-year-olds celebrate.

They replied that they went out to eat and just had fun. She thought this was hilarious.

Now maybe I’m reading too much into this, but it struck me as noteworthy that our collective belief is that 12-year-old kids don’t know how to celebrate. When they get older, of course, they’ll be legally able to get plastered and have all sorts of fun, but at such a young age, the ability to celebrate is beyond them.

How ree-diculous. Kids are probably the only ones who know how to celebrate.

I took my youngest and her friend, Alexis, to their jazz dance class last night. On the way home, they asked me to do something we did a couple of weeks ago in the car – roll down the windows, turn up the bass, and CRANK the music from Radio Disney.

So we did. We thumped down Highway 90 in my stylin’ Saturn Ion, bouncing to songs from High School Musical 2, and with perfect timing, a retro rendition of M.C. Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” as we pulled into our quiet subdivision. Me and two 10-year-old girls, being cool.

Kids know how to have fun. The rest of us should be learning from them.

I had to leave for our church's evening devotional when the game went into extra innings, but I enjoyed the finals of the Little League World Series yesterday afternoon nonetheless. Later, I learned that the little fellas from Warner-Robbins, Georgia, defeated their counterparts from Tokyo, Japan, with a dramatic walk-off home run in the bottom of the eight inning. What an unbelievable memory for that young man!

My wife and youngest daughter and I watched the game together (after watching the Cardinals beat the Braves and pull within two games of first place - yippee!!!). Both of my ladies commented that it would be a cool road trip to go to Williamsport, Pennsylvania, to watch the Little League World Series one year, and I completely agreed. Of course, Jody wants to go for the multicultural experience. I want to go for baseball. And Hillary requested that the trip be in two years when she's the same age as the boys so she could check them out! :-)

I'm sure the road to Williamsport for these young athletes isn't so pure and innocent, but there's still something about this singular event that carries with it some measure of purity. Little kids from all over the world playing baseball together, and the whole world watching. Something just seems right about that...

Mother Teresa has long been a life hero of mine.

You may or may not have noticed the story about her in the news this past week, but it is definitely worth noticing (I’m contemplating a thoughtful Hippo post involving it). It turns out she may have been less superhuman than the world had been able to see – maybe a bit more like the rest of us.

My initial response was that I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or glad to learn this.

But I’m leaning hard toward glad.

You can read about it HERE.

The picture is of a girl the same age as my youngest daughter. She is a Haitian “restavek,” which in Haitian Creole means “stay with,” but in reality means a child slave.

There are 300,000 restaveks in Haiti, which equals one out of every ten children.

Haiti is the poorest nation in our half of the world, and one of the poorest nations in the world. It is a short-flight from Disney World.

The restavek system has evolved from the mind-numbing poverty. There is no education, or hope, or future for children living in Haiti’s rural areas. Because of this, many families give their children to families who live in the city – to “stay with” (restavek) them. The children work as domestics for these families, and the parents of the kids simply hope that this translates into a chance for the kids to go to school.

But it mostly doesn’t. Instead, they are often abused. And for the girls, most graduate from this school of hard knocks to pursue a career in prostitution.

My wife and I have fallen for a group called Beyond Borders, and we’re planning a trip to Haiti for a week in 2008. You can read about Beyond Borders HERE if you’d like.

Because I’m on their mailing list, they sent me a link to an MSNBC article/video on the restavek system yesterday. I would really love for you to read the article and watch the video – it will do more than the few words I’ve offered. Check it out HERE.

I love my creative friend, Troy. He was the best basketball player in the history of my high school, but much better than that, I’ve found him to be a spiritual man who loves God so much that he will do ANYTHING for him. I told you a couple of weeks ago that he was launching a new teaching series at his cool church in Fort Lauderdale that he’s calling, “MyNakedPastor.com” (Watch his YouTube video above to see his intro.) Listen to some of what Troy put on his blog as a description of the series:

Why MyNakedPastor.com? To raise the Value of AUTHENTICITY! I don't believe we can ever become who God created us to be, until first we are honest about who we are...It's impossible to get directions to where you want to go if you don't know where you are. We want to create environments where people can be honest about what's going right in their life and what's going wrong... It's really that simple... The website is a way for us to lead out in a life of nakedness (Authenticity)...A camera following me, my family and friends around 24/7 for 5 weeks… We all have a voyeuristic interest, and we are going to leverage that reality to help people take their next step toward God. I've always heard it said, "Our life is the only sermon some people will ever hear." ...The website will allow more people to have access to our life sermon...The things we do right...The things we do wrong...And what we do when what we do is not what we want to do... The title will help us get the attention of a world that is flooded with noise...The GREAT COMMISSION tells us to, "Go into all the world to share the gospel"...And All the World is ONLINE, so that is where we are going... According to Dictionary.com, Naked is defined as 1. Having no covering, especially the usual one; 2. Being without addition, concealment, disguise, or embellishment; 3. Exposed to harm; vulnerable What a great definition for Authenticity...One that we can all understand... Some of the subjects we will be getting naked with during the series each weekend: Conflict...What do you do when you "have a fight" with someone; Insecurity...How do you handle the feeling of "not measuring up"; Anger...Can you control it or does it control you; Emotionally Tired & Stressed...Is there such a thing as "REST.” The Bible has some honest answers, but in order to apply them we have to get naked...Spiritually & Emotionally...

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Thank you for praying for my niece, Jessica. I would solicit your continued prayers, As expected, there will be a very serious surgery in the next couple of weeks. I will let you know more as I know more…

I have a very special prayer request today: please pray for my niece, Jessica, and my sister and brother-in-law, Sandy and Tommy. Jessica is 24 years old now, but she has faced an awful lot of health problems for a very long time. She has a special doctor's appointment in Memphis this afternoon, and our whole family is very worried about her. For some reason, I don't make a lot of prayer requests of people, but today is different.

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I have two specific "must-read" links for you today.

(1) The first is mainly a "must-read" for sports fans, but others would find it interesting at least. It is on ESPN's website, sent to me by my friend, Shannon. Check it out HERE.

(2) The second is from our Hungry Hippos site (go HERE). Yes, I'll bug you with links from here often, but I really, really think today's post is a very important discussion waiting to happen. My friend, Msmiranda, posted it, and she links to a "letter-to-the-editor-type" question and response from a liberal magazine she reads a lot. The letter is from a Christian and regards caring for the homeless. It is really, really fascinating. And to pique your interest, the response (from a non-religious person) contains a beautiful description of Jesus that includes the f-word (and no, not football this time). I never thought I'd ever be writing those words in a sentence. :-)

I cannot bring myself to say that Hurricane Dean turned out not to be as bad as expected, though relatively speaking that is true. I know how hateful that would sound to those whose lives have been turned upside down by Dean. My wife and I have taken a particular interest in the nation of Haiti (more about that in the future), and I noticed that four people were killed there when the hurricane passed by earlier this week. The Associated Press writer made a special point that the poorest people suffer the worst in these situations. I’m glad that was noted.

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Speaking of noticing the poor, Larry James stopped by my Hippo blog yesterday and added a nice comment. Larry is a tremendous example of love through his ministry in Dallas, Texas. If you have never visited his eye-opening blog, check it out HERE.

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Speaking of my Hippo blog, my good friend who writes under the pseudonym, Juvenal Urbino (a character in one of his favorite all-time books), posted a thought-provoking article yesterday on romantic love and the lack thereof. Drop by if you get a chance, and feel free to enter the conversation with the Hungry, Hungry Hippos HERE.

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Speaking of slow and cumbersome creatures, I changed out my wife’s car battery yesterday. You’ve no idea how proud I am of myself. No idea.

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Speaking of pride, yesterday was Hillary’s first ballet class of this particular dance season. As the daddy of a daddy’s girl, I can’t describe the feeling of watching her dance. It’s even better because she dances for our friend, Susan, a wonderful, wonderful woman who, in addition to an impressive career as a professional dancer, has a beautiful heart. It is a beautiful thing.

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Speaking of beautiful things, Albert Pujols homered for the 4th straight game yesterday! The Cardinals are sitting behind division leaders Milwaukee and Chicago at only three games out!

The picture is a bit misleading. I had ribs and shrimp last night at Buffalo's Wild Wings, but six of the eight guys that showed up partook of the establishment's signature course - all you can eat hot wings! Periodically, thanks to my friend Marion, the "guys" from church get together at Buffalo's just to hang out. We eat a lot, talk a lot, and watch a lot of sports on the plethora of televisions spread around Buffalo's. This will be the last time we get to do this with Marion since he just received orders from the United States Coast Guard and will be moving to Clearwater, Florida. We will sure miss him a lot, and I suspect we'll carry on the tradition even after he's gone. I can't wait to get to the Buffalo's Wild Wings in Heaven, though. We'll all have a grand time.

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I made it home last night in time to take part in another live online fantasy football draft, this time in a "carefree" league established by my friend, John Dobbs. It's a "just for fun" league, but since our friend, Danny, is involved, the competitive juices will flow somewhere within. :-) The chat during the online draft was hilarious, and as John pointed out, more fun than the entire season.

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Lots of folks commented on my Hungry Hippos column yesterday. The discussion continues if you want to check in again. Just click HERE.

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On the way back from Buffalo's last night, my wife called to say that her car quit working. Looks like I get to change out a battery today. Given my automotive expertise, this will not be nearly as easy as it would be to everyone else in the world. :-)

Everyone!

I have a request for all of you!

I’ve had a group blog for a while now called “Desperate Houseflies,” and it has been a lot of fun. Several friends from over the years have been a part of the conversations, and I have learned a lot from it. It is sometimes funny, sometimes controversial, and sometimes deep. It has always been important to me.

But, after two-and-a-half years, it sort of grew to a point where we needed a fresh start, so we’ve converted this group blog to another server, renamed it, and are ready to unveil it today.

I’ve written a special post for today’s grand opening titled, “Can We All Get Along?” And I’m somewhat nervous about it. Nervous because the conversation there is free-flowing, and you might not like what some people have to say from time to time, including me, and nervous because of my kickoff post today.

Yet, given perspective, what I have written is so very important to me.

Here’s my request:

(1) Please go to http://hungryhungryhippos.wordpress.com and read my article

(2) Please add your comment on the website (instead of emailing me personally). You may have to get a free WordPress account to comment, but I’m not sure. If so, just jot down your password somewhere.

(3) Please consider dropping back by regularly (bookmark the site) and become involved in the regular conversations. Once you read my article, you’ll understand why this request is so important to me.

(4) Oh, and one more: then tell all your friends about the Hungry, Hungry Hippos blog, too! The more the merrier.

Thanks for being some of the people that are so important to my life. I hope you enjoy the land of the hippos!

Yours to count on,
Al

The picture above is of beautiful Cozumel a couple of months ago. Simply a breathtaking place. But it might not look so pretty in a couple of days.

I have a friend who has a very important job, and in the course of that job, he needs the very best weather information. Because he cares for our church family, he provides me insight as to which way hurricanes are pointing so we can be prepared, too.

Hurricane Dean should roar through Jamaica and the Cayman Islands today, but the last word has it slamming into Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula between Cancun and Cozumel on Monday evening as a horrible Category 5 storm. From there, once it reemerges in the Gulf of Mexico, its current track has it rebuilding into a strong 3 or possibly a 4 before blasting the Brownsville, Texas / northern Mexico region on Wednesday night.

All subject to change, of course, but that's what it looks like for now.

And if that isn't enough, the experts believe that this hurricane season will last much longer than 2006. Last season's ended in mid-September, but this one is expected to last until late-October to early-November.

Stay tuned this week. I know it will be a tragic week somewhere.

Some days are ho-hum days, but not today. It is draft day for my fantasy football league, popularly known to be one of the most important days in the history of the universe.

Fantasy sports has grown tremendously, and I’ve come to enjoy participating in the fun. And of all the fantasy sports, it is my opinion that football is the best. Without delving too far into the finer points of the game, suffice it to say that draft day for football is MUCH more important than in other sports. So I’m getting my game plan together this morning…

I’m pulling up the latest football news on the internet. I have my Fantasy Football Preview in Sports Illustrated sitting by my side. Bring it on!!!

Of the twelve teams in my league, seven of us reside on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. We are anxiously crouched over our computers, and you know how painful that can be.

My friend, Andy, an attorney in Houston, Texas, is sitting by, too.

As is my friend, DeJon, a graduate student at the University of Oklahoma.

And my friend, Danny, a preacher in Pensacola, Florida.

And my friend, Wayne, retired in Northwest Alabama.

And last, but not least, my friend, David. To tell the truth, I don’t even know where David is at! He went from here to South Dakota, and from South Dakota to Oklahoma, but I’ve lost track. Except for his fantasy teams, which he faithfully manages.

Seriously, fantasy sports aren’t important at all in the grand scheme of things. Except, that is, that they keep me connected with good friends. Which is a grand reason to celebrate a day like today.

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On a much more ominous note, please watch and pray concerning Hurricane Dean.

I received a startling text message yesterday afternoon from my friend, Alison. It said “Fire @ chevron, cole & I are ok! Pray for others.”

Chevron is big business down here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The oil refinery employs 1300 folks and is one of the top ten refineries in the United States. Our friend, Cole and Alison, are engineers there, and we love them very much. A fire at a place that produces gasoline is a scary thought, and I’m glad that the first word I heard about it was from Alison saying they were okay. (The picture above came from Cole during the fire.)

It turned out that none of Chevron’s employees were injured; however, Alison worked in the area where the fire occurred, but she had taken yesterday afternoon off. She felt blessed not to have been there, but quite shaken to think about her co-workers, and at the same time, to realize what could have been.

Thank God everyone was okay.

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Well, it’s official now. After last evening, I have been officially sworn in as a CASA volunteer. I now await being assigned my first case.

The ceremony was really neat, and Jody and Hillary were able to attend with me. There are six current CASA’s in our area, and our class of thirteen helped that number significantly. My wife has already volunteered to be the first member of the next training class, and we are very much looking forward to doing this together.

There are so many children that are in need in our county. One of the current volunteers (who was named Male Volunteer of the Year by the United Way last year) said we could use a hundred volunteers.

Check out CASA if you have a heart for abused and neglected children to see what you can do to help.

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My friend, Troy, is the most creative pastor in the world I think! His recent teaching series, ivescrewedup.com and its cyber-confessional resulted in his being interviewed on CNN’s Anderson Cooper Show. You’ll have to check out his latest idea, called mynakedpastor.com. You can bet he’ll field some interesting interviews with this one!

Mynakedpastor.com isn’t about anyone taking clothes off. Instead, it deals with our fear of being vulnerable. As part of the series, cameras will follow his family around 24/7 for five weeks. He’ll be able to preach from experience when all is said and done.

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In the sports world, two happy events for me:

#1: The Cardinals are suddenly 2 ½ games out of first place, and they’re beginning an important four-game series with the Cubs today!

#2: I received my Sports Illustrated yesterday, and who was on the cover but Arkansas running back, Darren McFadden, with the title: “The Year of the Running Back / Arkansas / The No. 1 Back in the Land”


Have a great Friday!

It is hot. It is August. It is time to dust the old cobwebs off the cans of Spam and begin thinking a bit about hurricanes.

For those of you who don't know, although hurricane season ranges through six months of the year, the peak occurrence times are really August and September. Like right now.

Hurricane Dean formed in the open Atlantic yesterday, the first hurricane of the season. Hurricane specialists still believe this will be an active season, predicting as many as nine hurricanes to develop from up to sixteen tropical storms.

Which means we'll be watching the weather with elevated interest over the next couple of months.

We were blessed with a very quiet season in 2006. The year 2007 has been quiet so far, but, as always, that can change quickly in the steamy month of August.

A few bite-sized blogs this morning:

* Brooke Astor died this week at age 105, a truly remarkable woman. Over the course of managing her enormous wealth, she gave away about $200 million. Shannon Lawler sent me THIS LINK to an article about her life and death. Her most famous quote is in the article (“Money is like manure, it should be spread around.”), but my favorite line is the one that said she was “as comfortable in a Harlem youth center as she was in a Fifth Avenue penthouse.” That’s Jesus-like.

* I’ve had a couple of rough days at work recently, but nothing I cannot overcome. Just a reminder that although lots of things about my job may get to me, boredom isn’t one of them.

* Our friends, John and Jinger Kelley, called last night with news that their second daughter arrived safely yesterday! We celebrate the appearance of little Olivia in the world, a little girl blessed with wonderful parents and a beautiful big sister!

* We went to watch some high school volleyball last night (Ocean Springs vs. Resurrection). We’ve been out of the loop since our daughter graduated three seasons ago, so it was odd not to recognize many faces. We went to see our friend, Kelsey (the varsity captain this year!), as well as our friend, Emily (starting her career following in the footsteps of her three big sisters). Emily was in kindergarten when we met the Smith family and Erica and Marianne (Emily’s sister) played JV together. Now Emily is the age they were then… I am really getting old quick!

* I started another book yesterday afternoon, “Becoming Conversant With the Emerging Church” by D.A. Carson. I have read excerpts from this book and am familiar with its analysis, so I’m not super-excited to start it (plus, it’s an academic book, which is always a challenge for me), but I’m interested in the subject matter for two important reasons: (1) I will be teaching a class on the topic soon, and (2) I think it’s talking about me.

* Oh, and a little sports headline says the Cardinals are "lurking." They are still sub-.500, but they are miraculously only 4 1/2 games out of first in the NL Central. Thought I'd point that out and officially jinx us.

That’s all I have this morning. Time to get started on my sermon for Sunday: “Daring to Imitate Jesus,” based on the Matthew 14 text of Jesus and Peter’s adventures walking on the water.

I finished Forty Acres and a Goat last night, and am officially depressed.

Not that it was written as a depressing book. It was really good in so many ways. Here’s the brief review from Publishers Weekly, which is right on the money:

"[A] free-flowing, allusive memoir . . . recollections are enlivened by expressive language, a blend of allegory and humor, [and] made colorful by anecdotes about important people he engaged in earthy, often confrontational dialogue, and then befriended."

Exactly.

What depressed me, I guess, is that the author, Will Campbell, has become sort of a hero of mine, and I guess I hoped that the end of his story would be perfect, fading off in a Tennessee sunset, celebrating an attainment of the meaning of life.

It doesn’t end that way at all.

Friends move away. Friends die. Will Campbell wonders if the Civil Rights Movement, which dominated his life, made any real difference.

This doesn’t bode well for my future, you know? I have long held a “no regrets” philosophy of life. I want to live my life minimizing regrets. I don’t want to look back and wish I had gone about it all differently. I’ve always known there would be “some” regrets, but I intend on making the most of every day of my life and making any regrets few and far between.

But listening to Campbell, recalling his spectacular (to me) life in such beautiful language, I realize that there will be regrets. Lots of them.

So my whole philosophy of life is a pipe dream, eh?

I hope you have a great day, too.

My friend, John Kelley, sent me the video linked above. Take three minutes and thirty-nine seconds out of your day and check out the story of Juan Mann, set to the music of a band named the Sick Puppies.

Juan Mann felt the human scourge of loneliness and decided to do something about it. His simple, yet powerful solution has become a worldwide phenomenon (which you can read about HERE).

Maybe we could all give it a try today.

The Rick Ankiel story exemplifies why I love sports.

Ankiel grew up in Florida in what many ways might seem an ideal situation, running around on a beach and playing lots of baseball with his father. But it wasn't ideal at all. His father, who has been arrested multiple times and is now serving time in federal prison, was extremely hard on his son. Rick reports never being good enough, lots of yelling, and an emphasis on baseball that made him wish he could do something else. He didn't play for the love of the game; he played for his father's approval.

Ironically, Rick's home life had a positive effect, too. The verbal abuse made him tough in a good way, able to deal with adversity, and somewhere in the middle of it all he developed a great heart, described by everyone from that era of his life as a "great guy off the field."

In high school, he became a great pitcher on the field, too.

Ankiel was named the best high school pitcher in America by the USA Today in 1997. He was drafted out of high school and made an instant millionaire by the St. Louis Cardinals. In 1999, he was named minor league player of the year by the USA Today and Baseball America, and he received the call his dad always wanted for him - the call to the major leagues.

In the year 2000, his first full year in the majors (at age 20!), he turned in an impressive season, coming in second in rookie of the year balloting, and leading the Cardinals to the playoffs.

Then, it all fell apart like nothing I've ever seen.

In Game 1 of the playoffs against the Atlanta Braves, he simply lost it. He could not throw the ball in the vicinity of home plate. Ankiel threw five wild pitches in one inning, and when I mean wild pitches, think Charlie Sheen in Major League.

Ankiel laughed it off, nervously, and the Cards went on to win the series. However, in his first start in the next series against the Mets, the demon returned. He only threw twenty pitches, five of which went sailing past the catcher to the backstop. Later in the series, he made one final appearance in relief, and uncorked two more wild pitches.

At the beginning of the 2001 season, Ankiel picked up where he left off, with more wild pitches. He was demoted the minor leagues, and the problem grew worse. It wasn't until he landed at the bottom - rookie league - that he seemed to get things back under control.

Then came 2002: arm trouble. Then came 2003: Tommy John surgery.

It was 2005 when Rick Ankiel made the strange announcement. This "pitcher" decided he would now be an "outfielder." And the odd journey back began.

Sports Illustrated stuck a little "Ankiel Watch" feature in their magazine along the way, mostly as a novelty, seeming to make fun of the idea. And Ankiel started hitting home runs. Eventually, folks in the know started saying he might be a marginal prospect for the major leagues. And eventually, those folks started saying he really might make it back.

This past week, Rick Ankiel was called back to the major leagues, and in his first game back, he hit a dramatic home run.

And yesterday, I sat on my couch and watched his third game back, and in addition to two beautiful catches in right field, Rick Ankiel hit two home runs. TWO home runs in ONE game!

This is why I love baseball.

And I hope Rick Ankiel hits 100 home runs a year for the next decade and makes Barry Bonds a distant memory.

My Ocean Springs

Yesterday was the first Friday completely "off" in a long while, and I spent the day trying to play catchup on my Ocean Springs photo-project. I ended up adding five pictures, bringing my total to sixty (out of a goal of one-hundred this year). If I can average two a week from here on out, it will end up just right.

Although the slideshow above doesn't show you the entire picture, it does provide a taste.

You could go HERE to read the caption entries about each picture.

My wife has a heart of gold, even if it means she doesn't get a lot of sleep sometimes.

Jody got up at 4am yesterday to drive nearly three-hundred miles to the northern edge of Louisiana to support friends of ours in their 9:30am court date. Our friends have fought for custody of a little boy that has had an awfully rough go of life so far. They had shared joint custody for the past year or so, where the child would spend two weeks with his mom (with no discipline and a horrible environment), then two weeks with dad (in a very good environment). The poor little guy's life went back and forth like that for over a year.

Yesterday was the custody hearing, and our friends asked if there was any way that we could be there. We promised that one of us would make it, and as things turned out, it was Jody (which, given the choice, is the best of the two of us anyway). It was so good to get the phone call from Jody on her way home that our friends were granted full custody of their son, while the mom only gets occasional supervised visits. It seems that the best interest of the child was finally served, and we are all so thankful.

Ironically, the reason I couldn't go yesterday was that my final CASA training session took place last night, and given the unpredictability of a court docket, I couldn't risk the trip. Last night's training session was the most important of them all, the night where we were told exactly what we would be doing as a Court Appointed Special Advocate. (It was still funny to think that I was here learning how to speak up for the best interest of a child, while my wife was busy speaking up for the best interest of a child!)

My training is now completed. All that now stands in the way of receiving my first case is the special induction and swearing-in ceremony next week.

I am excited, yet a bit apprehensive. Not because of the horrible situations I will encounter, nor any fear for my personal safety, but simply because I am very close to encountering the real "harrassed and helpless" people for which Jesus prayed for workers.

Stepping out of a world of comfort and engaging the real call to discipleship is a bit unsettling.

I'll see you all in court.

The ride home from school was normal yesterday, conversation over new homework assignments and updates on friend sightings. Once home, I did some of my usual work, while she did what was expected of her, chores and homework and a snack.

It seemed pretty much after the fact that the story dawned on her, and Hillary came into my office to tell me something that happened at recess.

Her name is Lauren, and Hillary noticed her. Hillary was playing with three of her good friends when, out of the blue, she remembered something I had asked her a day prior. So she looked around and noticed Lauren, sitting on a bench by herself, looking alone. Hillary’s friends were in the middle of something VERY important, I’m sure, so she was a bit torn as to what to do, but finally she took a chance and pointed out to her friends the girl sitting all by herself. They said, “Do you want to go meet her?” Hillary said, “Sure,” so off they went.

On Tuesday, after reviewing important papers sent home from Hillary’s new school, I had asked her if she had noticed anyone looking lonely. She told me she hadn’t. I suggested being on the lookout at recess or lunch for someone who might be new and without a friend. Just a thought, you know…

Her name is Lauren, and she just moved here from George County. She told these four new girls that she didn’t have any friends yet, and they spent some time introducing themselves to her.

I juggle a thousand things in my job and in my life, and I often wonder if any of it really makes any real difference. When I get excited about doing something right, I often notice that I had the wrong motivation for doing it in the first place. Life can be difficult to figure out.

Yet every once in a while, to use a goofy metaphor, and with apologies to all blind squirrels everywhere (who, now that I think of it, wouldn’t be reading this anyway, for at least two reasons that come to mind), even a blind squirrel gets a nut. And I got a good nut in my precious daughter.

You can keep all the footage of the celebrities. I would love to have a video of those four girls approaching that lonely girl on the playground. Not only because that particular action is practically the most important action in the history of humanity, but because I know the girl who did the hardest thing of all.

She stopped long enough to notice a stranger.

But now, her name is Lauren.

Hank Aaron and I have a couple of things in common: (1) neither one of us is the all-time home run king, and (2) both of us were sleeping last night when Barry Bonds assumed that honor.

I watched Bonds double in the second inning against the Washington Nationals to begin a Giants rally, then watched him single in the third, too. I went to bed in the fourth inning, and from what I read first thing this morning, Bonds hit the long-awaited #756 in the fifth.

Early in the game, my wife summed up the sentiments of pretty much everyone that follows sports at all when she said, “I wish he’d just hit it and get it over with.”

Well, he finally did. The Bonds Watch is over. You can all now return to your regularly scheduled lives.

Election Day is drawing near in Mississippi. Or, at least I hope so.

I have noticed an annoying new trend in campaigning: the telemarketing technique. We get several prerecorded phone messages daily that go something like, "Hi, I'm someone you don't know but someone you ought to listen to, and I'm best friends with So-and-So Candidate, the most wonderful person in the history of the universe, and on Election Day (if you have a lick of sense), you'll join me in electing So-and-So as Mississippi's next Classroom Monitor Supervisor."

Off to the first day of a new school year this morning! The years are flying by so fast, and I'm well aware that my little girl is getting into those years where the changes that occur within each school year will be quite dramatic. So sad in a way, yet exciting in another...

She must have been excited about today because she barely slept last night, and being the giving girl that she is, she didn't let her mom and dad sleep much either!!!!!!!

Well, he tied the record without me last night. I wasn't watching when Barry Bonds tied Hank Aaron for the most revered record in baseball, the all-time home run king.

I read the reports this morning, and the article noted the irony that he hit it off a pitcher who had formerly been suspended for violating the minor league steroid policy.

My feelings have been mixed. The evidence declaring Bonds guilty of cheating is overwhelming, though not officially confirmed. Still, taking a drug doesn't help one hit a baseball like Bonds has hit baseballs - if it did, lots of folks would have put up numbers like his.

So, I pause today to recognize a monumental achievement by a baseball player even more polarizing than Pete Rose. What he has accomplished is flat out amazing, though the consequences of his actions along the way won't allow him to truly enjoy it.

There's a lesson in there somewhere for all of us.

Believe it or not, the school year began for many South Mississippi schools yesterday. Ours begins Monday; yesterday was "Meet the Teacher" day.

Hillary moves to a new school within the district this year. I noticed a tinge of nervousness in the last couple of days, but yesterday put all that at ease. Great teachers, great schools, great friends... If I can still do the math, this all adds up to promise a great new school year.

While wandering through the world of Facebook, I came across a link on my friend, DeJon's, page to a Washington Post article titled, "Pearls Before Breakfast," featuring the Grammy-award winning virtuoso, Joshua Bell (pictured above), It is simply fascinating, and you just have to read it.

Go HERE.

Random thoughts...

#1: VBS ended yesterday, and the picture above of Alexis and Laney is one of my favorites. We enjoyed so much having Alexis come with Hillary all week, and Laney's mom, Jessica, did an outstanding job of directing her first VBS. We had a big celebration for our Peak of the Week class last night that went very well. Near the end, Matt put together a slideshow that Dave uploaded to our website afterward. You can go HERE, click on the banner, then look for the Avalanche Ranch button to watch the video.

#2: The bridge collapse in Minnesota is so sad and scary. Makes our little "van breaking down on the bridge" escapade recently seem more scary than before... My wife has a former business associate in Minneapolis that we always considered much more a friend than a business associate. I emailed Stephanie this morning, hoping she and all her friends are safe.

#3: I've been physically drained with everything going on recently, but for some reason I keep having to stay up late to watch Barry Bonds attempts to catch Hank Aaron. Such mixed emotions. Right now, I think I'd lean toward applauding when it happens out of simple respect for history. Me, and maybe three Dodger fans out of the 50,000 showing up to watch, right?

I went to the nursing home yesterday, and of all things, had a blast.

In spite of the fact that my oldest sister taught me the value of nursing home residents when I was a little boy, and in spite of the fact that I’ve been going to see my cool friend, Hezekiah, for years now, I still don’t generally look forward to going. It’s not that I’m scared (anymore), or that I get depressed (anymore). I’m not sure what it is, but I suspect it has something to do with my selfishness.

Anyway, I went to see Hezekiah yesterday.

When I punched the secret button to get in, the first person I saw was Miss Katie. I hadn’t seen Miss Katie in a long time, and I had suspected things weren’t good with her. Miss Katie is an oversized woman with oversized glasses, and her tongue protrudes from her mouth when she’s not talking. And she’s a flirt. She’s forever whispering to me about her boyfriends, telling me she loves me, and generally distraught over some unfortunate lover’s quarrel. She’s something else. It was so good to see her again, and especially good to see her looking so good! Instead of a worsening condition, something good must have been going on with her. She has lost weight and looks healthier than ever. After our hugs, she stopped everyone passing by to introduce me as her friend.

I went out to the smoking porch and found Hezekiah listening to his radio. Well, I found him slumped over sleeping in his wheelchair, but his radio was going. As always, he had a smile for me. And as always, when asked, he told me he was feeling good (which is followed up by telling me that he had dinner and breakfast). I brought him a catalog to look at per his request, something he periodically asks for by saying, “Bring me a book next time.”

On the smoking porch was a man I met last time I came, though I don’t yet know his name. I believe he is in the nursing home at the hands of a stroke. It’s evident that his mind moves slowly, as do his reactions, but he remembered me. In fact, he asked me where my daughter was since she came with me last time. I was touched that he remembered her.

Another gentleman arrived on the smoking porch. He had lost his right leg, and the stump sat uncovered on his wheelchair. I couldn’t help but look, but then I turned and tried not to stare.

Then came the new guy (to me, at least). Talk about a character! He was tall and skinny, and the best way I could describe him would be Richard Pryor on uppers, if you can imagine. He carried a Bible with him and spoke in a combination of jive and gibberish to the cadence of an auctioneer. I commented on the good book he had in his hand, to which he replied, “The best book in the world!” I expected to enter into a good religious discussion, but the rest of the conversation – the parts I could make out – went like this…

“You smoke cigarettes?” he said.
“No, not me.”
“I smoke cigarettes.”

“You drink beer?” he asked.
“No, cigarettes and beer make my tummy feel funny.”
“I drink beer.”
“You do.”
“Yeah. Budweiser.”
“Oh.”

Changing the subject, I said, “I came to check on my buddy, Hezekiah. Makin’ sure he’s keeping all the women away!”

We laughed, and then he asked me to bring the women next time.

You can’t buy tickets for entertainment like I get at the nursing home.

When I left the smoking porch, my new friend asked my name and followed me back into the building. Before we parted ways, he gave me a fancy handshake and a hug and asked if I was coming back. I said I sure would, and he reminded me not to forget to bring the women.

Then I saw Mr. Flowers. I’ve never met a kinder person than Mr. Flowers. Every time I go to the nursing home and see him, he always offers me the most gracious smile and asks if I will say a prayer for him. He has always been so positive, but yesterday he said he had been down lately. But he felt like he was starting to overcome. I said a prayer for Mr. Flowers, and as always, he thanked me. But I thanked him yesterday. He inspires me a lot more than I could ever inspire him.

I punched in the code to exit the facility and ended up holding the door open for a sweet old man and his adult grandson who had come to visit. They were both smiling and heading outside to find a shady spot with a breeze. They both looked so happy.

I don’t know why I don’t look forward to going to the nursing home. In more ways than one, it is the neatest place in the whole world. Maybe, after all these years, I’m just beginning to notice.