The Long Road Home

7 Months and a Life Time Ago

2010-03-26T08:11:00.000-07:00

It was exactly seven months ago today.
It seems like it happened just yesterday.
It seems like it happened 100 years ago.
It is still very fresh in my mind.
It feels like it never really happened at all.
212 days, some good, some bad, all of them the same.
Some healing comes Quickly. Some healing comes slowly.
Some simply does not come at all.
I have learned so much, but I still know so little.
I am different now in many ways - but it's still me inside.

Monday starts another chapter in my life. I am leaving the world of the unemployed.
God has seen fit to revive me and give me yet another undeserved chance at normal life. In a word I am grateful, grateful, grateful.

"LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered, and that my life is fleeing away. My life is no longer than the width of my hand. An entire lifetime is just a moment to you; human existence is but a breath. "We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing. We heap up wealth for someone else to spend. And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you. Psalm 39:4-7 NLT

Here Comes The Sun

2010-03-12T13:29:00.000-08:00

Little Darlin, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter.
Little Darlin, it seems like years since it’s been clear.
But, here comes the sun… Here comes the sun
And I say… It’s alright…
Little Darlin, the smiles returning to thier faces
Little Darlin, it seems like years since they’ve been there.
Here comes the sun… Here comes the sun
And I say… It’s alright…

Yes it is alright, and I’m grateful. I have Lots to talk about but not quite sure where to start.
Next week (after Lynetta goes back to work) I will try to catch up.
But until then:
God is great – and he is, despite popular opinion, still in control

Crossing the Red Sea

2010-02-05T07:57:00.000-08:00

Did you ever wonder what the Children of Israel were thinking as they were crossing the Red Sea?

According to Exodus 14, “the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left”. I wonder if this struck them as odd. I wonder how their rational minds explained or justified such a peculiar event. I always wondered if they could look into the walls of water on either side of them and see fish. (but I digress)

There had to be a rational way to explain this miracle. There had to be a way for their natural human brains to process and understand what was happening. If I am reading the story correctly, it says that a strong east wind blew all night long and pushed the waters back. I know, it didn’t happen that way when Charlton Hesston did it in the movie, but that is what the Bible says.

So, technically speaking, the wind did it. God used the wind, a common natural everyday presence, to carry out his will and demonstrate his power. The use of the wind however, makes it no less a miracle.

That has been my experience with God working in my life. The miracles that I have witnessed have been on the surface, explainable, natural, and common occurrences. But they have always had an undeniable way of revealing God’s love, his will for my life, and his power to carry it out.

I always condemned the Children of Israel for so soon forgetting the Miracles. One minute they would be happy, joyous, and free - awe struck by God’s power and care, and then the next minute they would be despondent - worrying and complaining about being thirsty, hungry, and tired. No mater how great the miracle, it was always quickly and completely forgotten.

I shouldn’t have been so quick to condemn them. I am the same way. I have witnessed many great miracles. God has taken extraordinary care of me and my family. He always has, and he always will. But, right now I’m tired and the desert is hot, and the road is long. ..
God forgive me.

The Plot Thickens

2010-02-02T04:22:00.000-08:00

OK, this is really getting depressing. Let’s skip all of this “sick” stuff.

Let’s just say that I was a little under the weather for the next 3 – 4 days. The only interesting part of that story anyway was how I was able, with the help of 9 angels, (a story in itself) to not only survive, but to actually hide my little predicament from the Onsite staff. (Apparently, they just thought that I always sweated and shook like that.)

I did not sleep. I remember praying a lot. For the first 3 - 4 days most of my thought process centered around just how to hide this mess. I was stuck in damage control mode. My overall goal was to save my job, my marriage, my family, my finances, most of all my reputation.

Through it all there was always this nagging feeling that I was really missing something important. It was as if someone far away was screaming at me - trying desperately to get my attention

I did acknowledge how odd it was that Rusty just happened to be my roommate. I told Rusty that had it not been for him, I would have told everyone (myself included) that I had come down with some sort of flu bug, and that I needed to go home and reschedule this little adventure. But there was just something about this guy. Maybe it was the odd fact that he just happened to have been through all of this before. I continued to think how very insightful it was of this place to strategically place two people with such similar stories into the same room.

I remember giving my “There are no coincidences” speech. I remember telling them about my long held belief that everything in life happens for a reason. Publicly I gave the credit to God for bringing us all together. But honestly, privately, this little miracle was, at the moment, lost on me.

I do not remember the exact day the lights came on. It was either day 3 or 4. It was one of my worst days physically. I was sweating, shaking and cramping. I think it was on a lunch break. I was coming out of my cabin (I had just spent my 20 minute break in the bathroom) Rusty came up to me with a very strange look on his face.

“You are not going to believe this” he said quietly as he led me back into the cabin and laid his cabin key on the table.

I wasn’t following this at all. “What?” I asked impatiently, what’s wrong?”

“Look at the key!” he exclaimed. “Look at the room number!”

This explained a lot. It explained why Rusty didn’t have a water bottle with his name on it. I felt sicker.

It was the wrong key. Rusty had been in the wrong room all week. He had walk in that first day while Ralph and I were talking, and had never notice that he was in the wrong room.

Something finally clicked.

Onsite (part three)

2010-01-28T07:09:00.000-08:00

My head was spinning. I remember feeling sick.

At this point no one knew about my drug use. The word addiction had never even been suggested. My family did not know. My coworkers did not know. My Doctor, my Counselor, and my Psychiatrist did not know. I was still in denial, so in reality, I didn’t even know. How could this place have known?

Rusty tried to convince me that his story was true. He tried to assured me that he was not a spy – that he was not an undercover counselor working for Onsite. He said that he was there for his own problems. He swore that he didn’t have a clue who or what I was.

I still wasn’t totally convinced, but by now, I really had no choice. I spilled my guts. I told Rusty and Ralph my story - the whole story. They were both shocked. Not so much by my story, but by the fact that Rusty and I had just happened to come to Onsite the same week, and just happened to have been placed in the same room. What a coincidence!

Our amazement however was short lived. Rusty was, all of the sudden, very concerned.
“If even half of what you are telling me is true,” said Rusty, “Then you are in real trouble”.

“Yeah, thanks Sherlock” I said sarcastically, “I sort of figured that out”. I was thinking of the Nursing Board, my job, my wife, my family, my church and my reputation. Rusty was thinking about my health.

He wanted to know details like how much I had used, and how often I had used it. He wanted to know exactly when the last time had been. The significance of this line of questioning was at the moment lost on me, but I was, for some unknown reason, finally beginning to trust this guy – so I told him the truth.

He told me that I really didn’t need to be at Onsite. He tried to tell me how serious and painful drug withdrawals were. He said something about my needing a Detox center. He tried to tell me that I needed to be under a Doctor’s care. But in typical “Gary” fashion, I told him that I was fine. I assured him that I was not really addicted and that I could handle it.

He sadly and knowingly shook his head. “Yeah, you can probably handle it” he said, “but it is not going to be pretty.” Little did I know just how right this guy would turn out to be…

Onsite (part two) A Change in The Weather

2010-01-25T15:58:00.000-08:00

The weather was about to change. Life as I knew it was about to change. You could feel it in the air.

More people began arriving for the one week session at Onsite. The first thing we got to do as a group was take a historical tour of the old mansion. It is called the Drouillard House and it has a fascinating history. (If you are into that sort of thing check it out at www.drouillardhouse.com )

While we were taking the tour a severe thunderstorm suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The thunder was deafening. The rain was intense. The walls of the old mansion were literally shaking. (Or, maybe it was just me) I remember wondering just how many of these Tennessee thunderstorms this old house had experienced and survived over the past 150 years. I wondered what the worst of those storms would have been like. Luckily, the storm disappeared about as quickly as it had arrived. I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to face one of the worst storms of my life – and it had nothing to do with the weather. I kept hoping that I would hold up half as well as that old house had.

The shuttle from the airport arrived shortly after that. I made my way back to my cabin to settle in and meet my roommate.

Ralph was a jolly fellow about my age. He was from Akron Ohio. He was obviously accustomed to the treatment routine. He quickly and confidently introduced himself and starting right in telling his life story. He told me the good, the bad, and the ugly, just like we were old friends. I liked Ralph. I could relate to most of what he was telling me. But if he thought I was going to tell him my struggles and my problem, and reveal my secrets, he was sadly mistaken. I was in no mood to talk to anyone - yet.

It was about then that another guy walked into the cabin. He obviously knew the treatment routine as well. He politely listened as Ralph finished his story, then looked at me as if to say, “your turn”.I suppose he could tell by the expression on my face and my tightly folded arms that I was not talking. He didn’t miss a beat. He quickly, confidently, and unashamedly launched into his story.

He said his name was Rusty. He said he was from West Virginia. I wasn’t buying it.

Something was terribly wrong with this guy’s story. I listened in horror as this ”Rusty” fellow started telling “my” story. He changed a few little details to make it believable, but it was obvious that I was being set up. This guy had been strategically placed into the bed right next to mine to tactfully twist a full confession out of me.

The number one rule at Onsite was, we were not, under any circumstances, allowed to tell anyone what we did for a living. Rusty never said what he did for a living. He didn’t have to. I had heard enough. I was steaming.

“I’m not that stupid” I said angrily. “I came here for help, and I don’t appreciate being lied to”.

Rusty and Ralph are now looking at me as though I had just grown a third eye.

I felt the walls shaking again. I was hoping that my voice wasn’t shaking too.

Perspective

2010-01-20T05:37:00.000-08:00

Are you still with me?

I know what you are thinking. I know what I would have been thinking 2 years ago had I just been told that story. So What!? So, the names were the same - what is the big deal? You would really have to be stretching it to call that little detail a miracle. Well, it all has to do with perspective. Let me explain:

Most miracles are private events. Most are meant solely for the faith and benefit of the intimate few who are present at the time and open to the event. Most of Jesus’ miracles were done in private. He often told the people whom he healed to keep their mouths shut about it. (Which of course they couldn’t do)

John 9 has a wonderful example of how different people react in different ways to miracles. Jesus gives a man, who had been blind from birth, his sight. The man of course is thrilled. No one else seems very impressed. Most of the people think it is a trick. They justify this supernatural event, in their own minds, by saying that the man is really someone else who just happens to look like the blind guy. Even the man’s parents are not happy. The Pharisees, in typical fashion, are mad and start accusing the man of being healed by the devil. Jesus ends up saying that the people who witnessed the miracle, and denied it, were the ones who were really blind.

God, at any time, if he chose to, could simply pull back the edge of the sky, stick his head in, and yell; “Hey, Don’t make me come down there!” As far as I know he has never done anything quite that flashy. God works in mysterious ways – those ways are usually subtle. Elisha described it as a still, small voice. (I Kings 19:12)

Miracles therefore are easily missed. Our logical, natural brains have a tendency to rationalize and explain away anything supernatural. Your world has to be shaken a little before you can see the obvious. My world, at the time, was rocking.

So, I am sure that you are still thinking that the little name thingy was just a fluke, just chance, just a convenient coincidence. Well, had the name been Bill, George, Bob, John, Mark or Paul, I may concede that the chances were good - but Kendell?? Please!!

Besides, the story gets better – a lot better

Onsite (part one)

2010-01-18T12:15:00.000-08:00

Onsite (Part One)

(NOTE: I do not have the right or the permission to share the parts of this story that are not my own. It is a story however that needs to be told. Parts of this story need to be shouted from the roof tops. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. If you were there, and you know these stories first hand, and you feel that I am over stepping my bounds, please tell me. I will gladly remove them)

Against their better judgment everyone somehow agreed to let me get into my truck and drive off alone. This is probably a raving tribute to the deep amount of BS that I was still able, despite my condition, to sling at will. They all had serious doubts as to whether I would show up at Onsite or not.

I had every intention of showing up. I simply had no intentions of staying. I already had my exit strategy mapped out. I was there to make a showing of good faith, to do my part, then leave and come up with my own way out of this mess. God or someone else was going to have to get my attention real quick.

He wasted no time.

When I arrived at Onsite, I was a few minutes early. So, I hid in my truck for awhile. My anxiety was at a critical level. It was hot and I was nervous. I remember sweating like a pig. I rolled the windows down and listened to the radio for awhile. I didn’t see a soul. The place looked deserted. When I could no longer sit still I finally got out of the truck and walked sheepishly up to the main building.

Two smiling ladies met me just inside the building. They sat behind a table with everyone’s name badge and cabin key all neatly arranged. I could tell by the table that they were expecting a lot more people. My badge and Key were first. I remember one of the ladies patting my hand as she handed me my cabin keys. “It will be alright.” She said softly. It wasn’t so much what she said; it was the look in her eyes when she said it.

I knew that look. I had used that look a million times over the years. I had often used it at the bedside of a dying patient to comfort and reassure the families. I had used it to calm patients who were heading into life or death surgeries. It was a look of caring, understanding and sympathy. It finally started to dawn on me what I must really look like at that moment.

I went and found my cabin. It was nice, rustic, clean, and cool. I found a water bottle with my name on it sitting by my bed. I saw from the other water bottle waiting in the room that my room mate (if I stayed) would be a guy named Ralph. There were three beds, but only two water bottles. I took this as a good sign.

I went outside and sat on the cabins covered porch and waited. There were old time rocking chairs. It was shaded and much cooler than I had remembered it being only 5 minutes ago. It was then that I witnessed my first of many “God Moments.”

He was the first person that I met at Onsite. He walked up onto the porch, smiled and introduced himself. His name was Linus. He was the kind of person that you just instantly like. He was handsome, confident, real, honest, and kind. We hit it off instantly. It was like I had known him for years. I wondered what would bring such an obviously good person to a place like this.

He explained without going into much detail that a very good friend of his had recently committed suicide. He said that he was just having a hard time dealing with his friend’s death and needed some time. I gave him my best look; I told him it would be OK. I was sincere.

Linus was assigned to the cabin right next to mine. He said he was going in to put his luggage away. I told him to check out the water bottles and see who his roommate would be. He smiled warmly, said he would, and then disappeared into his cabin.

The odds of what happened next simply can not be calculated. There is no such thing as chance. There are no coincidences. Ask anyone who knows this story first hand. There is simply no explanation.

Linus soon returned to the porch. But, something had obviously changed. Linus looked shaken and sick. I asked what was wrong. It took him a minute or two to answer.
He told me then that his dear friend had been named Kendell. He said that no one knew that. Linus had just learned that his new roommate, according to the water bottle just happened to be a guy named…. You guessed it… Kendell.

It was right then that I decided I had better stay awhile. That place was magic. No, that place was sacred.

Turning the Corner

2010-01-18T05:01:00.000-08:00

My miraculous new found ability to finally seek and accept help was the first baby step on my long road home.

I had already been to Medical Doctors, Counselors and a Psychiatrist, all to no avail. It was time to call in the “Big Guns”.

Lynetta, Russ, and the church elders (shepherds, as we heathen like to call them) got busy. Phone calls were made, and my bags were packed. They were sending me away.

The “Big Guns” turned out to be a beautiful, quiet little “resort” hidden back in the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee, called OnSite http://www.onsiteworkshops.com/

Long ago, back in my saner days, I remember believing and teaching that there was no such thing as chance - that there were no coincidences. I remember believing that everything happened for a reason, and that someone very powerful was in charge. Turns out I was right. (Even a broken clock is right twice a day)

There is a scripture in the New Testament where Peter says something like; “Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who ask you about the hope that you have within you.” What he means is this: Always be ready and willing to share your “God Stories.”

The next part of my story is exactly that - a “God Story”. it is one of the many reasons I have for believing in and relying on God.

The next part is difficult for me to tell. Not because of the pain or the depression that came with it, but because the next part is different - the next part is, to me, sacred.

God in a Box

2010-01-15T07:02:00.000-08:00

According to A.A. (and all the other 12 step groups) the second step of recovery is:
“We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”
This step is usually a huge sticking point with most addicts and alcoholics. It was for me.

Some doubt and reject the existence of a Higher Power. Some actually believe that a “Higher Power” is out there somewhere, but they seriously doubt his ability or his willingness to do anything to help them.

To others, this “Higher Power” idea sounds too much like “God”. And “God” automatically brings up painful memories of judgment, condemnation, and punishment. Most addicts do not need any help in the “judgment, condemnation, and punishment” department. We have those covered. No one could shame, condemn, or judge us any harsher than we do ourselves.

I have always believed in a “Higher Power”. I had no trouble at all admitting that my “Higher Power” was the God of the Bible. But, because of my ego, I had the tendency to keep my “God” in a very tight little box. The God of my understanding only worked within the confines of my ability to deserve and earn his approval and help. In other words, “God” only helped the good people – sinners need not apply.

I was an extremely blessed man. I gave the glory and the thanks to God. But in my warped little mind, I was blessed because I deserved it. I had earned it. This type of thinking is what we addicts loving refer to as “Sick”

Romans 9:16 It does not, therefore, depend on man's desire or effort, but on God's mercy.

Intervention (Part 2)

2010-01-11T06:38:00.000-08:00

Ok, enough of the morbid depressing stuff. (Writing about it is almost as painful as living through it. Reading it must be no fun either) Let’s just say that things quickly went from bad to worse. Let’s just say that my life had become unmanageable, and that I found myself powerless. (Admitting this is the first step in the Alcoholic’s Anonymous’ 12 steps to recovery plan)

Lynetta knew that I had lost the power to help myself. She also knew that she could not help me alone. So she, through a series of events that were nothing short of miraculous, (I will get her to tell that story later) enlisted the help of many caring people.

One Wednesday evening she returned from church to find me sitting alone in the dark. She didn’t say much, she just turned on the lights and started to pick up and straighten up the house like she was expecting company. This did not strike me as odd, because she is constantly cleaning, and picking stuff up, and acting as if she is expecting company.

About five minutes later the doorbell rang and in walked Russ, our church minister, and 6 of the 8 church elders. I was busted. Lynetta had ratted me out.

They didn’t ask many questions. They simply said that they knew that I was struggling with life right now and asked if they could pray for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them no. I didn’t have the strength to tell them that I had already tried that prayer thing and it didn’t work. Besides, God only helps the good people – the ones who deserve help. I deserved a lot of things – but help wasn’t one of them..

I never got off the couch. They gathered in all around me – close enough to put their hands on my shoulders. They prayed simply and quietly. They asked God to help me, and to heal me. Then they thanked him.

Simple - nothing miraculous – no bright lights - no angelic choirs singing – no Holy water being thrown – no demons screaming and flying from the room in fear - nothing at all to write home about, but that 2 minute prayer reduced me to a broken ball of sobbing mush.

Looking back now I can see that the only thing that really changed that night was my willingness to ask for and accept help. That was, in and of itself, a true miracle.

Intervention (part one)

2010-01-07T17:05:00.000-08:00

I had stopped praying, but Lynetta hadn’t.

Lynetta and my adult children knew that my situation was desperate and out of control. But, they had no idea why.

Andrea had been through suicide prevention training at her school. She told me that I could be their poster child. Lynetta, Kari, and Andrea all sat me down and tried to talk to me. They tried to help me, but I wasn’t listening. By that time I was not capable of listening.

I wasn’t so much lying to them, as I was lying to myself. I knew that I was using alcohol and drugs, but it wasn’t that much. It was just temporary. It was just enough to cope with and survive my current psychological dilemma. If I ever found the right combination I would be just fine.

(The old guys at AA and NA always laugh at this part and say, “Denial is not a river in Egypt idiot.”)

One night, I just got up off the couch, got into my truck, and drove away. This was way out of character for me. I have been married for 34 years. I have never even considered it before. I had no idea where to go. I drove around crying, wondering what it would feel like to just drive into a tree.

My phone was ringing. I wouldn’t answer it.

Somehow I found myself at church. I had the keys and I knew how to cancel the alarm. I remember going into the auditorium and lying down in the back row of seats. This was my church. This church was a very familiar place for me. I had spent an untold amount of time here. Over the years I had poured much of my heart, soul and strength into this place, but now it just felt cold, dark, and empty.

I knew many people who had found healing and understanding in this place. I had seen God work in powerful ways in this place. But he wasn’t there that night. I tried to pray, but the chairs weren’t listening.

My phone was still ringing. I finally answered it. It of course was my very frightened wife. She thought I wasn’t answering because I had finally found the courage and the right tree.

I couldn’t stand the pain in her voice, so I went home.

The Addiction Monster (part 3)

2010-01-06T06:17:00.000-08:00

Mental illness runs deep through the roots of my family tree. I was genetically predisposed and destined for madness. I invented all sorts of serious sounding psychological woes, all of which logically and neatly explained my behavior.

My family meanwhile was falling apart. My paranoia and my obsessions were growing pathological. My Jekyll and Hyde mood swings were common but unpredictable. I would rant and rave uncontrollably over nothing at all. Then, when something serious with Lynetta or the kids did occur, something that required any amount thought or attention at all, I would simply collapse into a sobbing ball. I would hide my bedroom for hours at a time. Toward the end I would hide there for days at a time.

Through even the worst of my madness I was still able to put on my happy face mask and go to work. My coworkers knew that I had changed, but they attributed it all to stress. They thought that my teenage children were driving me crazy. (That is what I had told them anyway) They had no idea.

I was still able to wear my church mask as well. It frustrated Lynetta to no end, how I could literally put her through a Saturday night of Hell, and then calmly and quietly walk into church Sunday morning and act as if everything was just fine. (That was a trick that I learned in my childhood)

I quit singing. I quit praying. I just wanted it over with.

At the time I thought that I was just too big of a whimp to pull the trigger. Not a literal trigger of course (I don’t own a gun). My trigger was much neater and less messy. My trigger was a 5cc syringe and a 25 gauge needle. The syringe was to be filled first with the good stuff, to take away my pain, then the bad stuff, to take away my life.

Looking back now I realize that God had not walked away from me at all. He had let the monster out of his cage. He did allow the monster to punish me, to hurt me, to teach me, to humble me, but he would not allow the monster to kill me. God remained right there beside me the whole time.

It reminds me of a Bible story I once read:
Job 2:6 The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.”

The Addiction Monster (part two)

2010-01-04T22:46:00.000-08:00

The first sign that the monster had been loosed was an overwhelming feeling of stress. This seemed odd. I had weathered an unbelievable amount of stress over the previous few years and had apparently handled it all just fine.

This overwhelming stress soon morphed itself into a mild but persistent depression. With my nursing and pharmacology knowledge, combined with my pride and larger than life ego, I decided that I could successfully self medicate my way through this little set back.

Despite my best efforts the mild depression soon transformed itself into a chronic very debilitating funk. 12 hour night shifts at the hospital were becoming unmanageable. I needed a little help with my self medicating. I soon had medical Doctors and Psychiatrist prescribing me safe and appropriate medication. The only real snag was in the fact that I was lying through my teeth to obtain the drugs I wanted.

My nursing and pharmacology knowledge served me well yet again when I proceeded to mix the medication in inappropriate combinations and doses. I soon learned that the medicine worked much faster, and lasted much longer, when mixed with alcohol.

Paranoia, obsession, and constant mood swings quickly followed. This of course called for stronger medication. I was growing desperate so I turned to a very familiar and readily available nursing tool - a 5cc syringe with a 25 gauge needle.

The one time quiet monster was now growling, spitting and screaming. His roar was deafening and terrifying. He was out of control and unstoppable. This monster wanted me dead. He would not rest until he succeeded.

I resisted at first, but in my heart I knew that I was powerless. My efforts were too little – too late. My strength soon gave out. I gave in and agreed that this monster really knew best. He had been right all along. It would be best for everyone.

The Addiction Monster (part one)

2010-01-03T18:58:00.000-08:00

Addiction is a very hard monster to explain and understand. Most medical experts describe it as, or liken it to, an allergy. (Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book Page xxvi)

For example: If a wasp or a bee happens to sting my Daughter Jesi, she breaks out, swells all up, and starts to itch. So far, (thank the Lord) the stings have not affected her respiratory function. But the doctors say that repeated exposure could over time lead to serious respiratory reactions.

If a wasp or a bee stings me however, it really does nothing except piss me off. Different people react differently to the same things.

Jesi tries her best to avoid wasps and bees. Me on the other hand, and thousands more just like me, are oddly and compulsively drawn to the very thing that is trying to kill us.

Addiction is also described as a Spiritual malady – a Spiritual disease. (Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book Page 64) I think that this is one is a little closer to the truth.

Spiritually speaking, there is a monster that lives inside of me. It has been with me for as long as I can remember. When I was younger it tempted me and tested me. I failed miserably. But, for reasons that I have never quite understood, God choose to spare me from most of the consequences. In other words, I got away with it - a lot.

When I was about 30 years old God did something remarkable and unexpected, something that I could never have done for myself. He locked the monster away. He kept it locked up in a dark quiet room down deep in my soul for about 20 years. Over those years I had forgotten that the monster even existed. But he was still there – always there - waiting.

About two years ago God, thinking that it was time for me to finally grow up and get my head and my butt out of the sand, simply and quietly turned the key and unlocked the door of that dark room - then he walked away.

The monster didn't bust out all at once. He could now come and go at will. He only came out a little at first - then a little more. Over time he grew bolder and more aggressive.

It didn't take long to realize the real intentions of this old monster of mine. His job was simple - to kill me. He almost succeeded.

Famous Quotes

2009-12-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”

Ernest Hemingway

I love this quote. My Addiction counselor quoted it last night in our session. He reminded me of how a bone always heals stronger after it has been broken. This gave me hope.

But isn’t Hemingway also the one who said “All thinking men are atheist”? Isn’t he also the one who put a shot gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger on July 2 1961? How can someone be so intelligent and so ignorant all at the same time? That is a question that has been haunting me a lot lately. To have lived, learned and experienced so much…. How did I end up here?

Another quote that I have learned to finally appreciate is credited to American author Napoleon Hill (1883 – 1970)

“The paths of least resistance make all rivers, and some men crooked”

I used to think this quote meant that if you are lazy, you will end up a liar and a crook – or worse yet - an alcoholic or an addict. But if you really think about it, crooked rivers are not necessarily bad – neither are crooked people.

I have sat through many Speaker Meetings lately. A Speaker Meeting is where an addict or an alcoholic stands up in front of a group of strangers, and honestly and openly tells their story. They hold nothing back – nothing!

I sat and listened to a young girl confess to drug addiction and prostitution. She had learned both from her mother. She hated and mistrusted men because her father physically and sexually abused her from the time she was six years old. She was not justifying her choices. She was not making excuses’. It was not however, “the path of least resistance” that carried her through such a tangled path of poor choices – it was pure survival.

She sat in tears confessing her defects and exposing her soul to a group of total strangers. She was by the world’s definition, crooked - but by no means was she bad.

It reminds me of another famous quote. A fellow named Jesus said this one as he was talking to a prostitute who had just been caught in the act of adultery.

Neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin." (John 8:11 NIV)

This one gives me hope too.

The Detox Porch

2009-12-28T08:38:00.000-08:00

For the moment, how I got there is not important. It is enough for now to simply admit that I was there.

It was God’s way of putting me in “Time Out” - A twelve week “Time Out” to be exact.
My first day:

Lynetta kissed me good bye. We both cried, and then she drove away. It was the most alone I had ever been in my entire life. It was a loneliness that I could touch, taste, and smell. It made it hard for me to breath.

“Detox” is at first glance a musty old basement. It is filled with lost souls of every description. Most of which are not even aware of where they are. It was obvious that I didn’t belong there. I tried to tell them – but they wouldn’t listen.

First they took away my cell phone. Then they searched my luggage – every pocket, every sock, every pair of neatly folded underwear. I told them that I was an honest man, and that I had not hidden anything. It was about then that they made me undress and submit to a strip search. We had a communication problem. They thought that I was just like the other drug addicts and alcoholics. They treated me just like they treated the crack heads, and the meth mouth junkies – just like the guy hallucinating and slobbering all over himself in the corner. What was their problem!

They took me to my room. The room was dark, and musty. It appeared clean enough, but it reminded me of a cheap motel where they only wash the sheets once a week whether they need it or not. The mattress and the pillows were all cover with plastic. As a nurse, I knew exactly why they did that.

Other than my room the only other place that I was allowed to go was out to the “Detox Porch.” That, I learned quickly, was where every one went to smoke and listen to the seasoned veterans (anyone who had been in “Detox” for more than 2 days.) The veterans would tell stories of the craziest most messed up people they had seen come through so far. The stories somehow made the rest of us feel a little better. We could always say “well, at least I’m not that bad – yet”.

I avoided the “porch” for as long as I could. I tried hiding in my room, but the room always felt like it was on the verge of vomiting me out into the hall. I prayed a lot. I asked over and over again how God could allow me – of all people – to be stuck in a place like this.
It didn’t take long for God to answer.

Have you ever experienced “The Look”? You know, when a parent or your spouse looks at you with a stern glare. The one where if looks could kill, you’d be toast? Well, I didn’t actually see God’s “Look” – but I felt it. It was the “just who, do you think you are?” look. “Do you really think you are any better, smarter, or more deserving than any one of these people?” “How dare you!”

God spoke to me that night. Not in words that anyone could hear. But I got the message loud and clear. The message was this:

“Do you see these broken people on the “Detox Porch?” “They are my family.” “I love them all very dearly”. “Go out and meet them.” “You will love them too.”
It was at that moment that I surrendered. I did belong. I deserved to be there. I really was just like every one else.

I went and sat right between the worst looking two on the porch. The smoke was choking me, but I really didn’t care. They were absolutely wonderful people. They were real people. They were open and honest. What you saw was what you got. I learned later that there were millionaires and homeless folks on that porch that night - people with everything – and people with nothing.

There we were all children of God - and nothing else mattered.

Lord, Help me to never forget – That nothing else ever matters.

Life Happens

2009-12-27T12:22:00.000-08:00

Hi !
How have you been?
Do you Remember me?
It has been a while.... (November 2008 to be exact)

A lot has happened since we last spoke.
It is a long story. If you have a minute I would like to share it with you - a little at a time - One day at a time

Allow me to begin by introducing myself again. I am probably not the same person that you remember. As a matter of fact, I am not the same person at all....

My name is Gary. I'm an alcoholic and an addict.
I am out of work, broke, in debt, and out of shape - and I couldn't be happier!

My story is one of surrender and acceptance. But, mostly it's a story of second chances, forgiveness, and God's amazing grace.

So, if your bored, and you have a minute or two, grab a cup of coffee and join me.
I will post as often as I can until the story is told. It is not a very pretty story, but it is all true.

Thanks.

Moving On

2008-11-24T01:53:00.000-08:00

It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

It's been very therapeutic for me. It has helped me to think through and sort out some very complicated issues and feelings in my life. It has introduced me to some great people, many whom I may never had the opportunity to talk with. But, like many things in life it has run it's course - and it is time to move on.

My goal is to be better, to do better, and to love more.
So, for now at least, I am determined to live more and write less.

I hope that you have found something thought provoking and interesting on this blog over the past two years. Your comments and encouragment have truely been a blessing to me.

Psalms 20:4-5 May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed
We will shout for joy when you are victorious and will lift up our banners in the name of our God. May the Lord grant all your requests.

I will leave the site up for a while and check in from time to time.

Great News

2008-11-06T20:11:00.000-08:00

Jesi's surgery went well. It just took a lot longer than we expected. And there were a few anxious moments. But everything is fine.

Jesi is in good spirits and her school friends have already been up to see her.
Thank you so much for the prayers. We understand that the doctors are talented and technology is amazing, but in our hearts, the glory and the thanks and the praise goes to our God.

He really does see, hear, and care, and answer.

Basket Case

2008-11-05T06:08:00.000-08:00

I worked in the Cardiac Cath Lab for almost a year. I have helped put in several ICDs (Internal Cardiac Defibrillators) Though extremely dangerous, the procedure is considered fairly routine.
At least I used to think it was. But now that it's my 17 year old daughter on the table, there is nothing routine about it.

I know the procedure. I know the risks. I would honestly give anything if I could just take her place, but I can't.

Jesi is frightened, but calm. She understands that this is necessary.

Mom and I on the other hand are basket cases. We know from past experience how hard it will be to finally let go and leave her in the hands of the surgeon. The pain you feel after you kiss them and then watch them be wheeled off down the hall on a gurney is unbearable. There is no medicine in the world strong enough to ease that pain.

Jesi's surgery is Thursday morning.
Please keep her in your prayers.

The Silent Killer

2008-10-31T11:30:00.000-07:00

It happened on October 25th, 1989 in Memphis Tennessee at Kirby High School.

Clint, a very handsome athletic sixteen year old was in gym class. They say that he was out on the running track warming up with his buddies. Everything was just as it should have been.

It happened quickly. There was no warning. No one saw it coming. For no apparent reason young Clint Cullpepper simply falls to the ground, and despite all swift and heroic efforts by his coaches, teachers, and emergency medical personal, dies.

We didn't know Clint at the time, but we have since come to know his family very well.

For the past 12 years Clint's story has become a big part of our lives. There has always been the possibility that Jesi and Krysi (his two beautiful nieces) inherited more from him than just his athleticism and good looks.

We have been spending a lot of time lately in the Cardiology Dept at Vanderbilt. We had a two hour conference Wednesday with 5 of their very top doctors. They all agree that Clint's killer is back and is lurking around our house. He is especially fond of Jesi. They have the DNA evidence to prove it. They tell us that something has to be done about it very soon. None of the option are pleasant.

Please keep our family in your prayers.

More to come

Name Dropper

2008-10-22T07:34:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while you just happen to be in the right place, at the right time.
What are the odds of my name being listed right next to two greats like Rick Atchley and Russ Adcox?
Check out the Pod Cast page at the Maury Hills web site! 10 -12 -08

http://www.mauryhills.com/podcasts.htm

Happy 100

2008-10-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

I made it!
100 miles in 90 days! (I actually made it in 85 days)
I am down to 232 - 234 lbs (depending on what time of day I weigh)
That is a weight loss of 10 - 12 lbs.

I am glad that I took the challenge and set the goal. Even with my modest results it sure beats what I was doing (nothing)

So now what?
Well, I'm glad you asked.....

There is exactly 5 weeks between my 51st birthday (Thursday) and Thanksgiving.
My new goal (Good Lord Willing) is to run 60 miles in the next 35 days, and to get my weight down into the 220's.

Lessons that I have learned:

Doing something is better than doing nothing.
Bad habits come automatically, Good habits have to be created.
If you do nothing long enough it will become all that you can do.

Lighten Up

2008-10-03T14:28:00.000-07:00

To Lighten up. That's my goal - both literally, and figuratively.
Lately, I have this overwhelming desire to take up less space in this world.

There are only 20 days left until my 51st birthday and the count down to my 100 mile in ninety day goal. I'm actually doing OK. My weight is down to 232lb (about a 13lbs loss). I have ran 72 miles so far. I have now graduated to 2 miles per day so I should (good Lord willing) make it with plenty to spare. It will be a nice birthday present to me from me.

I'm also on another kind of diet in my quest to take up less space. It's really more of an ego diet.
It includes things like keeping my mouth shut more and expressing my opinions less. It is coming to grips with the fact that I don't really have all of the answers, and the answers that I do happen to have, no one really wants nor needs to hear.

I am on the I Thessalonians 4:11-12 Diet:
Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders ans so that you will not be dependent on anybody.

What Ever Happened to Sin?

2008-09-24T09:29:00.000-07:00

Several years ago I asked my Sunday morning adult Bible class to list all of the things that used to be viewed as unacceptable Christian behavior (SIN) that are now considered quite tame and perfectly acceptable.

The list was pretty amusing:

Dancing
Card Playing
Shooting Pool
Men with Long Hair
Social Drinking
Eating at a restaurant that served alcohol
Buying groceries from a store that sold alcohol
R rated movies
Women wearing pants to church
Shorts
Shopping or going out to eat on Sunday
Mowing your lawn on Sunday afternoon
Lottery tickets

A few items on the list elicited moans and signs of continued disapproval from some of the older folks in the class. Most of the items on the list elicited laughs and disbelief from the younger folks in the class.

My question is this: Was it innocence or ignorance?

What do you think the list will look like in the year 2025?

237/ 56

Thanks Jonathan for an Awsome Weekend

2008-09-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Jonathan and Jessica we had a great time in San Fransisco. Jonathan is an awesome tour guide and an even better taxi driver. He showed no fear. I admit, I had to close my eyes a few times while flying through the narrow crowded streets of China Town. I am surprised his mirrors are still attached to his car.

It is a shame that such good friends live so far away.

If you have facebook, go check out the rest of our pictures.
http://www.new.facebook.com/photos.php?id=1385319656

Counting down the days.

2008-09-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

I am not complaining or grumbling! I am merely stating the facts.

My preacher will get me if I complain or grumble about anything, or if I criticize or speak negatively about anybody at all.

You see Russ challenged the Maury Hills church to try to make it one whole week without mumbling groaning, complaining, criticizing, or being negative in any way. (what was he thinking?) (oops .... sorry) We are on a criticism fast.

So I will choose my words carefully.....

If my calculations are correct, this is day 50 of 90. Of these 50 days I have been to the gym a grand total of 47 times. I have racked up an impressive total (relatively speaking of course) of running 48 miles. My goal, if you remember, is 100 miles in 90 days.

I suffered a calf muscle blowout along with some pretty impressive shin splints a couple of weeks ago (fat people should not run) So, for 14 days I substituted 11 miles on a bicycle (30 minutes at a heart rate of 140 bpm) per day to count as one mile running. I am fairly well healed now and am back to running. I have stepped up the pace now to 2 miles per day. That should put me in at well over my 100 mile goal by my 51st birthday.

That is all great positive stuff! (OK Russ, you can stop reading now)

The trouble is my weight has basically remain unchanged. I started out at 244.8lbs. I am still bouncing around 336 - 237. That is pretty discouraging. I was really expecting to look like Brad Pitt by now.

I must still eat faster than I run.

236/49

Got Faith?

2008-09-03T05:10:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I do it. It must be some type of psychological disorder. When it comes to religion, I seem to have this warped deep seated need for everyone to agree with me - as if somehow their agreement and approval is needed to validate my own beliefs and faith.

The ironic thing about my disorder is the fact that I do in fact receive affirmation and agreement from 99% of the Christian community at large. Contrary to recent reports my ideas are neither radical nor liberal. My core beliefs line up and are right in step with most all main stream conservative Bible believing Christian Churches.

It's not that I agree with 100% of the things taught and practiced by the 99%, I just happen to agree with the important stuff - the core stuff. They all have their quirks mind you, but if you check their basic beliefs they all are trusting in the saving grace of Jesus Christ. They all preach Christ and him crucified. That puts us on the same team. That makes us brothers.

Our differences, though many, do not make me crazy. I do not fret and lose sleep over the fact that the Pentecostals disagree with me about the subject of Spiritual gifts. I don't worry about the fact that some of the Baptist believe in eternal security. I don't care that the Church of Christ uses accappella music. In my little mind, those thing all fall under the heading of Romans 14 and do not in anyway dilute or change the message of the gospel.

But i must admit, It's that last 1% that really gets under my skin. They know how to push my buttons. They know that I can't resist. It is like waving a twinkie in the face of a fat guy on a diet. One mention of religious intolerance, Spiritual exclusiveness, or self imposed doctrinal supremacy, and off I go. When will I ever learn?

I was raised on a steady diet of sermons about how different we are, and frankly
"I am full of it" (my critics will appreciate that pun) I simply choose to live out the rest of my days focusing on how much we are the same. I shouldn't have to apologize for that.

Should I??

236/47

Baptism

2008-08-30T19:38:00.000-07:00

The discussion that was generated on my last post has me thinking about the subject of baptism.
The discussion went way beyond the old arguments of whether baptism is necessary (essential) for salvation or not - the discussion actually was about who's baptism was good enough and who's was not.

This is just an attempt to keep the discussion going.

Listen to the words of this song, and tell me if it describes Biblical Baptism?
Could the Preacher in the song have been Baptist, or Methodist, or something other than Church of Christ? Would you accept the young man's baptism? Would you accept him as a brother in Christ? Could he become a member of your church without being re-baptized?

What do you think?

236/42

Dirty Laundry

2008-08-20T10:06:00.000-07:00

I try to act like it doesn't bother me. But, I guess on some level, way down deep, it still affects me more than I would like to admit. I go through times when I don't consciously think about it too much, but little things , like funerals, always seem to bring it back to the surface again.

The other day Tyler, my grandson, asked me something about my mother. He had her confused with somebody else. I had to tell him that he didn't know my mother. In fact, my own children don't know my parents.

Some questions that keep coming back to me are these: When it's all said and done, who was really to blame for this situation? Could it have been avoided or fixed? What's the point?

I am sure that my parent's answers would be quite different than my answers.
Their answers, I am sure, would read something like this:

Who is really to blame?
Gary, of course. He left the faith. He caused division in the Lord's body. He followed false teachers and was led astray. He became a false teacher himself and led many others away from the one true church. The Bible teaches us to disfellowship, and have nothing to do with people like him. We are only being true to God's commands.

(If my parents ever moved to Columbia, I know a preacher that they would just love)
Sorry, I digress...

My defense is really unimportant for two reasons. First of all, my parents will never hear it, read it, or accept it. Secondly, because the only ones who ever read this blog are people who really know me, and love me, and already know that the accusation against me are false. But just in case, by some outside chance, there is a stray reader who is aware of the situation, and sympathetic to my parent's type of religion and thinking, let me set the record straight.

As God is my witness I have never disfellowshiped or shunned anyone.
Jesus taught me that sinners should not throw stones at sinners.

I never left the Faith. My faith in Jesus Christ is stronger now than it has ever been.
I did however leave a set of man made rules, rituals, and traditions that many have ignorantly deemed "The Faith".

I did not cause any division, I simply left the in-fighting and division that already existed.

I did not follow any teacher. My ideas are my own. I have had them since I was a teenager. I just kept them to myself because I knew what it would cost me.

If by chance I have taught any one, I pray that I taught them only to ask questions and think for themselves. The Bible belongs to each of us. Ask for help when you need it, but never let anyone tell you what it says, because more than likely the preople you ask don't know either.

I know that my critic are out there. They poke their typing fingers into some of the local blogs every once in a while.
Like I have said many times before, I would love to have the chance to actually face my accusers. I would love to sit down face to face and talk about this stuff over a cup of coffee. But in all reality, I know that will probably never happen. So, if all I can get is a negative comment or two on this blog, I will accept it. I will take what I can get.

Here is your chance. You can obviously remain anonymous. I will not fault you for that. I really do want to hear your questions, comments, and criticisms.

337/31

Mid Life Crisis

2008-08-12T13:19:00.001-07:00

Everyone thought it was the Harley Davidson motorcycle, but it wasn't.
This is definitely it. A Fender Deluxe Lonestar Stratocaster with a Peavey Classic 30 Tube Amp.
My midlife crisis, though slightly delayed, has officially begun. Lord help us all.

The real surprise was the fact that Lynetta didn't crown me with the frying pan when I walked in with this stuff.

As far as my "Getting in Shape" numbers, This is day 22 of 90. I have ran 22 miles so far, so I am right on track. However, my weight has remained exactly the same. 239/22
I am flapping my arms as hard as I can, but for some reason I still can't fly.

2008-08-01T15:19:00.001-07:00

Not much To Talk About

2008-08-01T15:04:00.000-07:00

It has been kind quiet around here - comparatively speaking.
Lynetta and I are covered up with work and teenagers.

Krysi is knee deep in Band. She starts school Monday. She got a cell phone for her Birthday much to the chagrin of her older sibling who were not allowed to have one until they were 16.

Jesi is already back to school (senior year - I will cry about that later) She is covered up with Volley Ball and being water girl for the Football team. We don't see her much.

Matthew is working quite a bit. He just finished a summer class at Columbia State and is busy just being Matthew, (which involves running all over middle Tennessee and spending all of my money) He goes back to Lipscomb the end of August.

Life goes on...
We are blessed way more than we deserve.

I heard an interesting quote yesterday: I was walking past the TV and heard a father talking to a daughter about her dreams. He said; "life is a series of choices. To have one thing, you must give up something else. You can't have both roots and wings."

I'm going to have to think about that one.

239/12

I'll Fly Away

2008-07-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

It was the first coherent words that I had heard her speak in 2 days. She was 93 years old and what the nurses call “pleasantly confused”. Her body was tired, her hearing was gone, and dementia had taken most of her mind and left her in a “happy place”.

I walked into her hospital room to find her reaching up with both crippled hands toward the ceiling. Because of her deafness, I was usually able to sneak in and out of her room without her ever noticing me. But this time as I tried to sneak past her bed to hang another IV antibiotic, she turned and looked at me.

“Please let me go” she cried. “They are all waiting for me”.

“Let you go where” I asked. (She may have suddenly become coherent, but she was still deaf)

“Please” she pleaded, “Just untie me and let me go with them”

I suddenly got the feeling that there was someone else in the room with us. I was almost afraid to look up to where she was reaching.

I know she didn’t hear me, but I patted her shoulder and said, “Its OK – They're in no hurry – They will wait for you - You will fly soon enough”.

She put her hands down and went back to her happy place.

There was an old David Crosby and Graham Nash (of Crosby Stills & Nash) song that I remembered from my Hippy days (the 70s) called “Carry Me”. The lyrics were about an old lady in a hospital bed waiting to die. The line that I remembered went something like this:

She lay in white sheets, just waiting to die.
She said “if you would just reach under this bed, and release these weights”
“I could surely fly” “I could surely fly”

Could there really be something to it?

Some glad morning,
When this life is over,
I’ll fly away.

Psalms 90:10 The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
241 / 6

Fresh Out of Excuses

2008-07-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

OK, Like it our not, tomorrow is here. I've been dreading it. I've been putting it off as long as I possibly could - but there is no denying that the tomorrow I have been waiting for has finally arrived. I am fresh out of excuses.

This Thursday marks exactly thirteen weeks until my 51st birthday. That is 91 days to be exact.
I tipped the scales today (Sunday 7/20) at a portly 244.8 lbs. That is exactly 24.8 lbs. heavier than back when I was fat.

So here we go....

I have a strategy but I won't bore you with it. I have some modest fairly realistic goals, some of which I will tell you about, some of which I will not. (I don't want to embarrass myself unnecessarily) I will however, to keep me honest and motivated, share my progress with you along the way.

One goal is to run 100 miles in 91 days. That is only one mile per day with a few extras thrown in here and there. Lynetta has already far pasted that mark.

So along side my usual boring little stories, for the next 13 weeks, you will see this fraction which represents my current weight / and my total miles ran.

244.8 / 0

It's going to be a long 13 weeks.. Please pray for my family. I tend to get grouchy when I'm hungry.

Life is Precious

2008-07-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

We treat them differently. We don't mean to, but its hard not to.

Most of the patients that we deal with in critical care want to live. They are struggling with every ounce of their being to to hold on to this precious life for as long as they possibly can. Everyone involved in their care works feverishly to give them every possible chance to do just that. It is a constant battle that none of us wants to lose.

But, occasionally, we are faced with the patient who does not share our respect for and our love of human life. They are the ones who have tried just as desperately to end their lives. If they do happen to make it past the ER to us, it simply means that they did not do a very good job.

How do you deal with a grief stricken family in one room who's loved one lies franticly gasping at their last few breaths of life, while in the room next door you have an otherwise healthy but angry patient cursing and screaming at the top of their lungs demanding to be left alone so they can die.

It is really hard not to get an attitude. Sometimes you just want to rip their good lungs out and give them to the guy next door who would appreciate and cherish them. But that thought quickly passes. These people are usually just as desperate - they just don't know it.

I can not imagine the intense pain that must lead to this type of behavior.

We have on occasion saved a few. We have cleaned their lungs, repaired their hearts, detoxified their livers, and cleared their minds - if only for awhile.

I remember one young man in particular who walked back in to the CCU on Christmas eve to shake our hands and hug our necks and thank us for saving his life.

He was an intentional cocaine overdose who had come to us 3 months before. He had been as good as dead for two of those three months. For weeks that he laid paralyzed in a rotating cage, swollen beyond human recognition, hooked to more tubes, drains, and IV lines, than one nurse could possibly handle. But God decided to give him another chance at life.

I remember giving him "The Speech". The Speech goes something like this:
"You are a walking miracle. By all odds shouldn't be standing here today. You have been given a second chance by God. You can not go back to your old life or you will surely die. You have a new life now - make it a good one."

He thanked me, hugged me, and walked away. I found his obituary two months later. He died of a cocaine overdose...

Lessons From The Garden Part 1

2008-07-12T22:58:00.000-07:00

I planted cantaloupe.

I watered it. I fertilized it. I weeded around it. I kept the bugs off of it. I checked it every day. I waited patiently for it to ripen. I even thumped it with my finger just like the people who know about this kind of stuff do when they are picking out a good watermelon or cantaloupe in the grocery store. (I'm not sure why they thump them, but I have seen them do it - so I did it.)

When the day finally came, and I was sure that it had been thumped enough, I picked my prize cantaloupe and proudly brought it into the kitchen for the whole family to admire. But, to my surprise, when I cut into this perfect cantaloupe, I found that it was not a cantaloupe at all.

It seems that I planted my cantaloupe a little too close to my cucumbers. The cantaloupe had cross-pollinated with the cucumbers (My first clue should have been all of the little round cucumbers that I had been growing) Now I have a garden full of canta-cumbers, which are not very tasty and basically useless.

The Spiritual lesson to this silly little story is obvious. It is something simple that I learned as a child back in Sunday School:

Do not be misled: “Bad company corrupts good character.”
(I Corinthians 15:33 NIV)

We don't like to admit it, or talk about it, but living too close to or becoming too comfortable with certain groups of people can influence and change us - cross-pollinate us if you will. We may still look like a child of God on the outside, but in the end, when all but the soul is stripped away, we may end up being something entirely different.

We are all influenced in one way or another by people and the culture in which we live.
The Bible tells us that we are to keep ourselves unspotted from the world (James 1:27) . Yet, simply avoiding sinful worldly people is not the answer. Paul says in I Corinthians 5 that to avoid immoral people we would have to leave this world altogether

Tomatoes and corn grow great together in the same garden. Neither are influenced in a bad way by the other. It is only certain groups that can not live and grow together. Notice the people whom Paul tells us to avoid in II Timothy 3:5 "Those who have a form of Godliness, but deny the power thereof." In other words there are some religious folks that you would do well to avoid.

Job 19:20 By The Skin Of My Teeth

2008-07-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

It was close - really close.

But I passed.

I am now officially a CCRN (Critical Care RN)

Lynetta also passed her certification test (by a very slim margin as well) She is now a CPC - CPCI
I have no idea what all of that stands for, but it means that she is now certified as an instructor in in her field of Medical Coding and Billing.

I just know that we both need to to add the letters BBBBG behind both of our names:
Bless Beyond Belief By God

Sorting It All Out

2008-07-05T14:09:00.001-07:00

I have a huge test on Tuesday. I really need to be studying. I have already paid over $500.00 just to take the test. Passing this test is really important to my nursing career. But... my heart and my brain are just not in tune….. I’m having trouble right now concentrating on the finer points of hemodynamics.

It happened to me last year as well - It lasted about a month. After returning from the medical mission trip to Belize I seem to always find myself in a funk - overwhelmed with guilt, despair, confusion and depression. Most of it, I’m sure, can be attributed to exhaustion. But, the thought of children living without food, shelter or even clean drinking water tends to bother me. The stories Jesus told about the “Rich Man and Lazarus” (Luke 16), The “Rich young Ruler” (Luke 18), and the “Rich Man and his Barns” (Luke 12) are keeping me awake at night.

On the long flight home we stood in line at the airport with a famous baseball player. I noticed that just his watch, bracelet and earrings were probably worth more than my entire house. Is this the “Rich people" that Jesus was talking about?

When we visited the village where the children with no floor lived
(see Russ’ Blog)
I realized that I had more money stuffed down in my pockets at that moment than their entire family would see in a year, maybe two. Am I the "Rich Man" Jesus is talking about?

Let me ask you a question. It has been on my mind ever since I got home from Belize.

Please comment and help me sort this out…

Is it selfish, uncaring and sinful to buy my children nice things like cell phones, new cars and Nintendo game when there are children less than eight hours away from me (26 hours if you fly American Airlines) who are going to bed hungry every night?

One World?

2008-06-30T22:33:00.000-07:00

The rain was pouring - no the rain was pounding. The rain had knocked the power out. The ceiling fan which had provided at least some comfort during the night had long since quite working. The air was hot and thick and hard to inhale. At least it was daylight.
I dreaded getting up.

I was way out of my comfort zone. My worrisome mind had already switched from adventure mode to survival mode. I worried about the river that we had to cross to make it home. It had already been flooded when we crossed the day before. This latest deluge would not help matters.

Our medical mission team had spent two grueling days working near a small Mayan village outside of Belmopan. We had seen over 900 people, most of which were children. We were exhausted. All that stood between us and the long road home that morning was getting the team safely back across the swollen river, driving through a few muddy miles of washed out jungle roads, and driving two hours through a monsoon on a broken down van with no windshield wipers.

As I lay there longing for home and the comfort and safety of my own bed God reminded me of the beautiful children that we had left behind the day before. I wondered if they were dry. I wondered if they were safe. The huts that these children call home were not adequate shelter against such a storm.

There are simply no words to describe the depth and the reality of the poverty that we witnessed last week.

I am now safely home. My house and my bed are even more comfortable than I had remembered - but for now at least - it hard for me to relax and enjoy them. God keeps reminding me that it is still raining on the children in Belmopan.

One world? I don’t think so….

The Long Road Home

2008-06-30T11:23:00.000-07:00

We are finally home! It only took us 25 hours to make the trip. Only 8 of those hours were actually spent moving and going anywhere. The rest of the hours were spent sitting and waiting all courtasy of American Airlines.
There are lots of pictures and stories that I am anxious to share, but for now, seeing that we have only had 3 hours of sleep in the last 36 hours, I think that I 'm just going to bed!

Sarcasim and a Conflicting Message

2008-06-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

In Honor of the up coming fourth of July Celebration, a very wise man sent me this link to "The Battle Hymn of The Republic." It is being performed by four High School Choirs along with a children's choir made up of elementary school children.

Click here: Battle Hymn Once it opens you may have to click the picture to get it going

The Battle Hymn of the Republic was written by Julia W. Howe in 1861. If you are an American it is very difficult to listen to this song without a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye. This song stirs very deep emotions. It is clearly, as the title suggest, a hymn. It speaks of the power of God, His righteous word, and the saving grace of Jesus Christ. While the emotion for most Americans may be simple patriotism, the emotion for the child of God is clearly worship.

The obvious point of this video is to put God back where he belongs in our nation. Everyone I know would be united and shout a hearty AMEN to this effort. Until of course you tried to sing this song in their church on Sunday morning, or heaven forbid show this video. This video is great for everyday life - real life - but it would be condemned and banned in most every church that I have ever attended.

How foolish and inconsistent would we be if we condemned this emotion and side tracked this effort by pointing out the sinfulness of choirs, and the blasphemy of using instrumental music in worship? The very idea of turning this into a commentary on church doctrine and instrumental music would be appalling- appalling indeed!

My point is this: Real life and church life should be the same. If it is acceptable and righteous to sing this song with true emotion at the high school football game on Friday night (with the marching band and choir) then why does it suddenly turn sinful on Sunday morning?

Am I the only one who sees hypocrisy and inconsistency here?

Count Down To Belize

2008-06-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go again....
We leave on our Medical Mission Trip to Belize this Saturday.
The country has recently had torrential rains and flooding. Many of the roads and bridges were washed out so we really don't know what to expect.

This year is special because Krysi is going with us. It will be her first time on an airplane. I will keep you updated every chance I get, but for a daily update on our trip please see Russ' Blog. He usually post something about we are doing each day of the trip.

Please pray that God will lead us to the people who need us the most. We are going back to the village of Belmapan. We will try to find the little boy who was so sick last year. If you have not heard this story, or if you have forgotten, please look back at our post from last year. http://garyneat-garyanderson-garyneat.blogspot.com/2007/07/where-is-god.html

We plead for your prayers.

No Winners

2008-06-12T14:37:00.000-07:00

Lately, when it comes to any subject that includes the idea of “us” against “them” I have been trying my best to keep my mouth (and my typing finger) shut.
It is not as if I no longer have strong opinions – I do.
It is just that through my ever so short silence I have observed and learned the following:

When it comes to religious infighting there are no winners.

No matter how well worded or good intentioned an argument, the conservatives remain conservative, the liberals remain liberal and the outsiders remain disgusted. Arguments do not change minds, hearts, or attitudes. Time and circumstances however, do.

Call it life, call it fate, call it the Holy Spirit if you are brave enough. But the truth is that only God can change someone's heart.

In my life, when I needed God the most, my legalistic attitude and my scripted answers and arguments were simply not enough. My iron clad interpretations and indisputable reasoning left me cold, alone and empty. God used Life's circumstances to do something that no argument could ever do - change me.

If God can change me, he can change anyone. So, give it time. Let God work. You will be amazed at the changes you see.

Missing Lynetta

2008-06-08T20:37:00.000-07:00

This is day 3 of 6. Last Thursday I took Lynetta to the airport and sent her off to a Coding Conference in Florida. There is about one week per year that her job requires her to travel.
She has been doing this for several years now. I have always hated this week. I admit that I don't do well alone.

Well, apparently Lynetta is getting to where she does not do so well without me either. It seems that she managed to lock herself out of her hotel room twice in the same day. (actually within just a matter of about two hours)

The first time was understandable. She had the Card Key in an envelope stuck down in her back pocket. When she got to her room the envelope was still in her pocket, but the Card Key was gone. This was really no big deal. She just went to the front desk and explained the situation to the clerk. He told her that if she had some identification he could simply activate another Card for her. Luckily, she had her purse and wallet with her so the clerk simply gave her a new Card.

About an hour later she decided that she would go out and get some ice. She grabbed the ice bucket and the old Card Key (which was now deactivated) and headed down the hallway. When she returned with her bucket of ice she quickly discovered that the old Card Key no longer opened her door. So, back to the front desk she went - ice bucket in hand.

I am sure that the clerk remembered her. Perhaps he was just tired of seeing her. But again he insisted on seeing her identification which this time was back in the room in her purse. "No Identification - No Key" said the clerk. So there she stood with the ice melting in her bucket.

I would tell you how the story ends, but that would make it boring. Let's just leave her standing there awhile so I can enjoy the fact that just perhaps she needs me as bad as I need her.

I love you Neat :)

Stage Fright?

2008-06-05T17:16:00.000-07:00

Chalk it it up to stage fright.
My meager little blog recently exploded with hits.
My loyal 30 - 40 family and friend readers all of the sudden ballooned into 300 - 400 hits per day. I really didn't have anything profound to say to that many people. Most of them, I suspect, were only looking for scandal anyway.
Thanks you for your support, prayers and concern for me. I am fine - perhaps a little jaded - but fine none the less.
Good Lord willing I will be back to my old boring self soon.

If It Is Possible

2008-05-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:18

Is it possible to be both opinionated and peace loving at the same time?
I know that the Bible teaches me to be swift to hear and slow to speak.
I know that the best response is usually to just keep my mouth shut and turn the other cheek. But I must admit, it is not easy for me to do. I struggle with keeping quiet- especially when injustice, untruths and intolerance are involved.

But, with the Good Lords help, I am willing to try harder. As far as it depends on me, I want to live at peace with everyone. My views have not changed. My opinion remains the same. I am flattered by all of the attention and press that I have recieved but must admit in the overall scheme of things I am pretty insignificant. I would love to talk to my critics and accusers the old fashioned way - face to face. Two or three witnesses would be welcomed. Please give me a call - I'm in the book.

Refreshed

2008-05-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

I am refreshed this morning and my faith in humanity is somewhat renewed. There are indeed many good Godly men and women still left in this world who are not swayed or manipulated by the extremist. Their gentle heart and Christ- like character have always been evident, it was just with all of the noise, clutter, and dust being stirred up by the extremist it was sometimes easy to overlook.
God is good. God is in control. God's children still exist. It's a great day.

How good and pleasent it is when brothers live together in unity.
It is like precious oil poured on the head,
running down on the beard,
running down on Aaron's beard,
down on the collar of his robes.
It is as if the dew of Hermon
were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the Lord bestows his blessing,
even life forever more. Psalm 133

Who's side are you on?

2008-05-06T03:19:00.000-07:00

There are usually two sides to every issue.
You are either pro or con.
You agree or disagree.
You approve or disapprove.
You accept or reject.
You are either a conservative or a liberal.
It is either black or it’s white.
In Tennessee you are either “fer-it” or “agin-it”.
There is no middle ground.

That is of course until you start talking religion or politics.

When it comes to these two subjects the waters get so muddy that we tend to rank and categorize not only which side of the issue you are on, but just how far off center you are. What is usually black and white now turns to varying shades of grey. Are you a right wing conservative or just a moderate? Are you a radical left wing communist or are you a bleeding heart tree hugging liberal? Or, on the other hand, you could be way off center on either side of the line and be considered a zealot, a fanatic, or an extremist.

I personally like to think of myself as a liberal conservative. I have a tendency to float back and forth across the dividing line depending on the subject matter. I am very comfortable in the middle. I have no trouble and I get along well with those clumped around the middle of the scale regardless of which side of the line they happen to be on. Those who congregate around the middle seem to always conduct themselves reasonably. They are open to debate, discussion, and even a healthy disagreement or two. I find them flexible, tolerant, open, and willing to learn.

It is the extremist that I am having so much trouble with. Extremist are militant and unyielding in their views. They are by nature the loudest and most vocal. They demand attention and action. They despise words like reason and tolerance. To them tolerance equals weakness. Compromise is a four letter word reserved for sissies and wimps. They shoot first and ask questions later. Political zealots are easy to spot and fairly easy to ignore and avoid. (Avoidance is the only way to handle a real fanatic)

Religious zealots on the other hand are a little craftier. They sometimes disguise themselves as preachers and Bible school teachers. They prey on people’s insecurities. They try to shame the masses with sermons about being lukewarm and uncommitted. For them it is simply not enough to agree, or be on their side, no, they demand that we militantly oppose, persecute, and denounce any and all who do not fall in line and march in step.

Religious extremist if allowed to run unchecked can kill a church, a Christian school or just about any other organization in which they are allowed a voice. The calm peace loving nature of the level headed moderate majority is often worn down by the constant bickering and fault finding of the zealots. The end results are predictable.

A sure fire way to know whether these religious extremist are being allowed a voice in your church congregation or the Christian school where your children attend is to simply look at the numbers. Declining membership or enrollment is the number one sign and symptom of unchecked extremism. Once the downward spiral has begun it is most time fatal. It is a slow and painful death. The good news - there is a cure, but it is unpleasant and requires major surgery. The zealots must be removed from the organization.(Romans 16:17-18)

Back Trouble

2008-05-02T17:24:00.000-07:00

I am lying in bed typing this - not because I want to, but because I have to.
I spent the last few beautiful spring days mowing, weeding, planting, digging, cleaning, tugging and lifting. Now I’m paying for it. I felt a little twinge of pain yesterday before I went to work. I really thought that it was no big deal. It progressively got worse however, and before my shift last night was over, I was in the emergency dept, in excruciating pain, unable to straighten up or walk.

So, here I am all drugged up on pain killers and muscle relaxers trying to type and make some sort of sense. My best friend right now is a rice bag that you heat up in the microwave. The bathroom feels like it is a hundred miles away. Getting old is the pits!

Enoch Thweett and I are scheduled to play Saturday night at the Siberia Coffee House. It will take a ton of pain killers and muscle relaxers to just get me up on the stool. I will feel like a real musician - stoned :)

Jesi"s Banquet

2008-04-27T15:48:00.000-07:00

I just thought you would enjoy seeing Jesi all dressed up. Friday night was the Junior Senior Banquet at CA. Jesi of course was the prettiest one there.

I'm pretty sure that it's time for Dad to start worrying again.

Peace

2008-04-15T12:12:00.000-07:00

My watch told me that I had less than 2 hours before the next shift arrived.
My clip board told me that there was still at least three hours of work to be done. There were several IV medications that needed to be started, blood samples that needed to be collected and send to the lab, not to mention all the paperwork which at this point was woefully behind. However, I was still calm, “No need to panic yet” I thought, “I just need to pick up the pace a little bit – I can still make it.”

It was then that the overhead pager crackled and rudely blurted out those two dreaded words: “CODE BLUE” Those words make everyone stop. A nurse’s priorities automatically change at the announcement of those words. Someone is dying - everything else can wait - even the next shift.

I didn’t know his name but I could tell from the minute that I ran down the stairs and into his room that the outcome would probably not be good. He was an elderly white man who had obviously been sick for awhile. His pale limp body showed the marks of years of sincere but futile medical intervention.

I don’t want to be morbid here, but you must understand that CPR is not pretty. It is very violent. Ribs break, fluids fly.….you get the picture. The room turns into a battle zone. There are doctors yelling, nurses running, equipment banging, and monitors alarming – it is controlled chaos.

With that much energy and intensity flowing stopping is not easy. Giving up is never pleasant. But, the family had decided that it was best. It was time to let go and accept the inevitable. So we stopped. The room which only seconds ago was literally erupting, was now quiet and still.

This is something that I have experienced many times. I used to try and remember and keep track of all the souls that I watched slip off into eternity, but the number and faces just became too large. But this one I will remember.

When the doctor said stop, I stopped. I stopped compressing a now soft and broken chest. I was by default the closest one to the patient. At this point in most cases (every other case I have ever seen) the patient’s eyes are dull, fixed, and glazed - but not this time. I had been watching the monitor. As the last few blips were fading away I looked down at the patient’s face. He was looking at me. His eyes were bright and focused very much alive.

I don’t know how I knew, I just did. I could see it. His eyes were not filled with desperation or fear or pain. They were filled with softness and peace. I heard it plainly – as plainly as if the words had actually been spoken. He told me he was ok. He was ready to go. He appreciated my gallant efforts but the angels were there now and they were waiting. He told me that he would see me again someday soon.
I told him that I was looking forward to it. Then I closed his eyes.

Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

The Newest Family Member

2008-04-13T20:31:00.001-07:00

Here is Tyler and Emily Klair with our newest addition. She is a 9 week old Golden Retriever.
Kinsley and Karlie were not so sure about her so they would not get in the picture.
She still doesnt have a name because Jesi and Krysi can't agree on anything. So, we are still open to suggestions. By the way, she is the calmest and quietest puppy I have ever been around. (I am sure she will grow out of it) Please help us name this puppy.. :)
Warren says we should call her Pee Diddy.

“Can’t we all just get along?”

2008-04-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the Los Angles riots of 1992? They were triggered when a jury acquitted 4 LA police officers of a video taped beating of black motorist Rodney King following a high speed chase.

The riots lasted for six days officially. Widespread looting, assault, arson and an occasional murder occurred, many gang-motivated or perpetrated. In all, 53 people died during the riots. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_Los_Angeles_riots)

I can remember watching the tearful plea of Rodney King on television, “Can’t we all just get along?” he asked. Well, when it comes to religion, sometimes I feel like Rodney.

It seems that I have been surrounded by religious riots and unrest my entire life. I was raised on a steady diet of religious in-fighting and church splits. There were even times, when like Rodney, I was inadvertently caught right in the middle of some of the worst of them. Religious bickering is never pretty. More good people have been hurt and more causality amassed in the name of “Contending for the Faith” than we could ever imagine. "Lord forgive us".

The recent racist remarks made by presidential candidate Barak Oboma’s minister, Dr. Jeremiah Wright, were actually quiet mild compared to some of the fiery sermons that I heard while growing up. I have sat and listened to many a separatist style sermon where good godly people were publicly chastised and condemned to an eternal hell for simply having the nerve to question or disagree with the 1950’s style status quo. When it came to preaching against those whom we deemed “false teachers” we took no prisoners.

The thing is, this 1950’s status quo methodology that I speak so critically of, in and of it’s self, was not wrong - far from it. It was and still is a simple, uncluttered, comfortable way for many to worship. The problem is the exclusiveness ideal that most times accompany this methodology. The idea that God’s favor rest only on these faithful few who have somehow managed to crack the code and do everything according to God’s Pattern, and are therefore by virtue of doctrinal exactness God’s chosen people today, is absolute lunacy. it is this type of thinking that continues to this day to push me over the edge and draw me back into the very thing I despise – religious bickering.

Religion is not that complicated.

Jesus said that the whole law was contained or summarized in two commands; love God, and love people. (Matthew 22:40)

The Apostle Paul says all of the commandments are boiled down to one thing: Loving your neighbor as you love yourself. (Romans 13:9)

James says that pure religion that is acceptable and pleasing to God is, “to look after the widows and the orphans in their distress, and to keep one’s self from being polluted by the world.” (James 1:27) Not much to fight about there.

Like it or not, it really is that simple. There are basic tenants of the Christian faith that
99.9 % of all Bible believing Churches agree with. They are simple and straight forward. There is tremendous unity among all believers when it comes to these pillars of faith.
Yet my religious heritage continues to self destruct at an alarming rate. They are straining at gnats and swallowing camels. I understand that for me to even suggest reevaluation or reform is heresy. But suggest I must.

What Really Matters?

2008-03-29T14:20:00.001-07:00

I admit, I’m a slow learner. Not only slow, but I have this terrible tendency to have to relearn the same lessons over and over again before they finally stick in my little brain..

If you are a regular reader of this blog, and ever follow any of its church links, then I am sure that you are aware of the great religious debate that’s been rearing its ugly head and grinding its crooked teeth over the last week. I was hooked.

I spent (wasted) a lot of time thinking about the arguments, and being appalled by some of the arguers. So much so, that I even spent my break time at work on the computer answering and arguing and becoming one of the worst offenders.

I was right in the middle of typing a brilliant, impassioned, indisputable counter point when it happened. The monitor behind me started to alarm. I had been expecting it.

We had, to put it in layman’s terms, “pulled the plug” on a terminally ill patient earlier in my shift. I was on “death watch”. My job was to monitor the patient and keep them as comfortable as possible until their last breath. The alarm told me that their last breath was very close.

The patient had been unresponsive most of my shift. There was no opportunity for final words or last conversations. The family was one hour away, and this poor soul only had 20 minutes. So it was just me and him.

As I stood by his bed with my hand on his shoulder, I wondered; if I could talk to this fellow one last time, and talk about the things that really matter, what would we talk about?

I know that we would talk about love, family, God, an empty tomb, the promise of eternal life, and the wonderful gift of grace that Jesus purchased for us by his sacrifice on the cross.
I am sure that we would talk about regrets, then forgiveness, and finally, peace - eternal peace.

It made the rest seem so small. It made the religious arguments over just “how to do church” seem almost sacrilegious and sinful.

So the next time I get sucked into my favorite vice (arguing over religion) I plan on applying the “death watch” test to my replies. Does this really matter? Is it important enough to include in someone’s last conversation? If not, I’m going to try my best to, in the words of Paul (McCartney) Let it Be..

An Easter Story

2008-03-23T16:16:00.000-07:00

It took 15 staples to patch Tyler's head back together after being mauled by a large neighborhood dog Saturday. He is a very brave little man with lots of angels looking after him. The dog was huge Alaskan Husky that outweighed Tyler by about two to one. It could have easily have been a very tragic Easter, But God was merciful, and we are all very thankful.

Pa and his angels

Please..Anything But Politics!

2008-03-18T06:12:00.000-07:00

I consider myself very apolitical. It’s not that I don’t care – in the end I do my patriotic duty and vote for the candidate I feel most closely reflects my ideals – but this whole election process bores me to tears. (And it’s only March)

I wish that someone would simply publish a check list of the candidate’s views, and a record of how he or she has voted on key issues in the past, and let people vote for the one that they agree with.

The debates are especially disturbing to me. Two smiling candidates on stage – representing the same party – supposedly on the same political side – arguing and tearing each other down – even resorting to name calling and personal attacks - trying to prove that they alone are the “real” Democrat or Republican, and their opponents are just impostors. Sounds too much like the religion of my youth….

One political story that I do find interesting this year is the one about the racist and separatist remarks made by Barack Oboma’s Pastor, Dr. Jeremiah Wright. I’m sure that his sermons were not intended to be political. They were not designed for public consumption. I suspect that they were just typical Sunday morning fodder that his congregation was very used to being fed.

The interesting part is going to be watching Mr. Oboma try to avoid stepping into this political pooh and distance himself from the racist views of his church. How can he publicly denounce his pastor’s views and still save face with his congregation? After the election, win or lose, will he be able to sit quietly in the pews of that church again on a Sunday morning and listen to this racist rhetoric? I don’t know. But, if he does, then I suspect that he never really disagreed with Dr. Wright in the first place. Time will tell.

Footnote: I just finished listening to Obama's speech answering to the controversy about his connection with and his allegiance to Dr Wright. I must say I was genuinely impressed. He seemed very straight forward and honest and didn't do a lot of side stepping. One interesting quote was "the most segregated time in America is the one hour on Sunday morning when we all go to church". We can't deny that he's right on that one.

What is Truth (part two)

2008-03-11T07:05:00.000-07:00

I believe in everything - a little bit"
Marilyn Monroe

Long ago, and far away, the world was flat. People lived and died with no logical reason to ever question, challenge, or rethink this perceived truth. As far as they could see….it was truth.

Are you old enough to remember the TV game show Concentration?
It was based on a children’s matching game where contestants slowly revealed a hidden picture called a rebus. A rebus was a person, place, thing, phrase, etc., that was spelled out using phonetic sounds and pictures - hidden below a board of 25 numbers. As the rebus was slowly revealed contestants tried to be the first to see the whole picture and solve the puzzle.
(http://www.tv.com/classic-concentration/show/5391/summary.html)

So, what does an old TV show have to do with truth? Well, imagine, just for the sake of this discussion, that the rebus represents “The Truth” (the whole complete truth). It could therefore be reasoned that each small portion of the rebus represented “a truth” – which when pieced together at the end made up “The Truth”. How silly and pointless would it have been for the contestants to argue, debate, and out-right fight over “The Truth” before it was completely revealed? To guess, theorize, piece together, and ponder was good hearted, healthy, and fun. It was what made the show interesting. But to dogmatically declare “The Truth" based on your impression of “a truth” would have been absurd.

The objection to this allegory is predictable. Most will quote 2 Peter I: 3 and rightfully claim that we already have the complete picture and “The Truth” revealed to us in God’s word. Granted, this claim is “a truth”. But, how many of us have a complete understanding of God’s word? Let’s be honest, how many of us have ever even read it in its entirety?

There is indeed such a thing as truth. And, that truth is attainable - but it takes a lifetime. The truth is absolute and never changing. I, on the other hand, am growing, changing, and ever learning. The truth that I know today is not like the truth I knew when I was 20. While the truth never changes, my understanding and grasp of it changes daily. The truth, like the galaxy is so vast, that humans at their best can only catch a glimpse.

So, lighten up. Don’t be so dogmatic and opinionated. Don’t be so quick to judge. Be forever a student. Make sure your words are always seasoned with salt, for you may have to eat them one day.

I Corinthians 13:12 Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Job 28:20-23 Where then does wisdom come from? Where does understanding dwell? It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing, Concealed even from the birds of the air. Destruction and Death say, ‘Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.’ God understands the way to it and he alone knows where it dwells

Angels Among Us

2008-03-09T16:22:00.001-07:00

She wasn’t my patient. I just went into the room to adjust one of the many IV pumps that were hanging by her bed. It was about 2:00am. It was quiet and dark. The only light in the room was the glow from the monitor that was currently saying that she was very sick. I thought she was asleep.

“My mother was just here” she whispered. “Maam?” I asked.
“Oh, I know she’s dead, but she was just here.” “She talked to me.”

Maybe it was the morphine. Maybe the neurons in her brain were misfiring after her stroke - but, then again, maybe not…

“What did she say”? I asked.

“She told me that I had helped her during her lifetime, so now she was here to help me.”
By this time the nurse who was assigned to her had slipped into the room and was listening to our conversation.

“That is wonderful” I said quietly. “God works in mysterious ways”

As we left the room the other nurse told me about her other patient. He was in the room next door. He had just become well enough that day to be taken off of his ventilator. He had just finished telling her about “Seeing the Master that day at the foot of his bed”.

The ICU straddles the line between life and death. Sometime the angels come and take souls home, but most of the time they are just there to help.

There is a place on our nurse notes where we can document when a patient's family is at the bedside visiting. So, that night, in a dark quiet intensive care room, with no one around but the nurses, we documented that her family was by her bedside.

What is Truth?

2008-03-04T21:51:00.000-08:00

When Lynetta and I were teenagers, there was a man that we both greatly admired (we still do) He was one of the best Bible School teachers that we have ever had the privilege of listening to. I remember that he would always begin a new study with these words:

“I believe that there is such a thing as truth - and I belief that truth is attainable.”

I still love those words. To think that the right answers are really out there, and that they are still readily available to any sincere seeker, is reassuring and comforting.

I wish that I could still just accept those words and be content - but, you know me…..
I still believe the “truth” part. I do believe that the right answers are out there. It is that silly “attainable” part that keeps giving me so much trouble.

The classic, most quoted Bible verses concerning this subject are of course:
1. The question: Found in John 18:38 (Pilot’s question to Jesus; “What is truth?”)
2. The answer: Found in John 17:17 (where Jesus refers to God’s word as truth)

There was a time when all you had to do was start your sermon with these two scriptures and it automatically qualified the rest of what you had to say as “truth”. It implied that from that point forward everything you were about to say was directly from God’s word and therefore truth. That of course was a ridiculous and baseless assumption, but in our innocence we did not seem to notice or mind. This tactic actually seemed to work for awhile - that is until I started hearing the “Truth Scripture Trump Card” quoted and claimed by preachers with distinctly opposite points of view. Both were appealing to scripture. Both were holding up God’s word as the final authority, but they obviously did not interpret “Truth” in the same way.

The short sighted Pollyanna answer would be that one preacher was right and one was wrong. One was a true soldier of the cross, and the other was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You simply choose which one you tended to agree with, or which one your particular church was affiliated with, and claim him the winner

But who is really to say which one is which? Scholars, men who were much wiser than me, who have dedicated their entire lives to the study of The Scriptures, who know more than I can even dream of knowing, have argued, debated, and disagreed about this stuff for the past 2000 years. How do I even stand a chance?

It is a subject that has caused me much grief. To flirt with the notion that “truth” was somehow so exclusive as to be out of reach for the common man was almost faith ending.

But, as always, God came to my rescue and showed me a better way…..
(To be continued)

When does perseverance stop and futility begin?

2008-03-03T12:24:00.000-08:00

If I pull up on my boot straps long enough, and hard enough, will I eventually rise?

Doesn't it make sense to evaluate my methods based solely on my success or my failure? Does my inability to achieve a desired result make my choice of methods futile, or does it just mean that I simply didn’t try hard enough or stick with it long enough?

I know that patience, perseverance and determination are all good Christian virtues. But, what if I am being patient and persevering in the wrong way? For example; when it comes to my lifelong battle with my ever growing waist line, I have yet to find a method that yields any favorable long term results. My wife tells me that it is because I simply lack the perseverance and determination that I need to succeed. I am convinced of course that I just have not found the correct method yet. I know that I could really be determined and demonstrate great perseverance with a plan that worked. The trouble is, no plan will work unless I am determined and persevere. I’m doomed!

Then again, perhaps the only reason that I can’t fly is because I am simply not flapping my arms fast enough. I will just have to try harder.

Losing My Religion

2008-02-12T09:36:00.000-08:00

Solomon said it best in Ecclesiastes 1:18, “For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.”

Toby Keith, (The country singer) said it this way; “I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then.”

I long for the days when religion was simple. I still remember the comfort of having a simple childlike trusting faith that accepted without question and believed without logic. Life was so much easier when I truly believed that my church was the only church.

But, somewhere along the way I asked too many questions. I took passages like Acts 17:11 too literally. In my searching I accidentally discovered that some of the things I had been taught over the years were not necessarily correct – others were absolutely incorrect. That is really not an earth shattering discovery for most folks. Most folks would just learn from their misconceptions, adjust their course, and move on. But consider this; I was taught to believe that my church was the one and only “true church” by virtue of the fact we were the only ones left on earth who believed, understood, taught, and practiced everything correctly according to God’s will.. Other religious denominations did not qualify for true church-hood because they were not as correct as we were. So, in my mind incorrectness, however so slight, meant a fall from grace.

At first these questions were just a small chink in the armor of my religion.
I learned quickly that some questions were deemed inappropriate and out-of-bounds. Such questions simply had no place in a serious Bible class. To question was to sow discord. To disagree was to disrespect. So I kept quiet. I kept my questions to myself.

It’s a long boring story, so I will spare you the details. But, over time the religion of my youth grew less and less magical. Its importance slowly began to fade. What had once seemed so vital and so invincible now seemed somehow shallow and orchestrated.

The good news is that while I was busy doubting and losing my religion, God was busy working in the real world of my everyday life in undeniable ways. As my religion faded my faith grew. God has never been more real to me. I am still in awe. When it comes to God, I still enjoy the comfort of having a simple childlike trusting faith that accepts without question and believes without logic. He taught me that I don’t have to understand and I don’t have to know all of the answers. He just wants me to be still and know that he is God.

Am I saying then that religion is not important? Yes, I guess I am. Especially if your religion (like mine was) is the sole focus of your faith.

The Bucket List

2008-01-22T11:36:00.000-08:00

"We live - We Die, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.."
Jack Nicholson, The Bucket List.

I haven't seen the movie yet, but it's on the top of my to-do list for the month of January.
Some day when I get braver, and when I get some time, I will share my "Bucket List" with you.
It includes a lot of crazy things like: Playing guitar in a tight little jazz combo in some swanky night club, and running in a real marathon - all pretty far out, crazy goals - I know..
But, as I was looking back, I realized that the "List" of things that I have already done is far crazier than my "List" that continues to go undone.

I have tubed down a river in the rain forest of Central America.
I have snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef.
I went back to school after 25 years and earned a nursing degree
I have raise (helped raise) 5 children
I have been happily married to my High School sweetheart for 32+ years

However, before you accuse me of bragging, I must admit - I consider them all blessings and not acomplishments. They were not because I was so smart, they were all because I am so blessed.

Do you have a list? I would love to hear about it.

Broken God Moments

2008-01-14T19:33:00.000-08:00

In my last article I may have left the false impression that I believe the life of a true believer is always supposed to be good, and fair, and pleasant. The sad truth is that life, even for true believers, is not always so pretty. As a matter of fact, it can get very ugly - and be very cruel.

High School graduation is just around the corner. It should be a happy occasion for parents and students alike. But this year, at the Columbia Academy ceremony, there will be an empty chair. And for some, it won’t be happy at all. One split second mistake on a busy highway two years ago and a beautiful, talented, and loving young Christian girl was taken away never to return. She was an only child.

Then there is the lovely young Christian woman who is raising two daughters all alone because her husband was tragically taken away in much the same way. And as if that pain were not enough, now her extended family is rejecting and ostracizing her just for having an opinion and a mind of her own.

I could go on, but I don’t need to. I am sure that you all know tragic stories just like these. So, what do you do with God Moments like that? Well, two things:

First, be in awe. God has promised to never allow anyone to be tempted beyond what they are able to bear. That means that if God is true to his word, (and I believe with all of my heart that he is) then the people left behind in the two stories above are true giants - heroes of faith that the rest of us are not worthy of. I don’t pretend to know their hearts their thoughts or their feelings, but as far as I know, their faith and their devotion to God have never wavered.

Second, did you ever notice what Jesus said in Luke 13:1-9 when he was asked the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” He started talking about manure of all things! (Dung in the KJV, just fertilizer in the NIV) He was basically saying that God allows random tragedies to happen to some simply to motivate and fertilize the rest of us. These tragedies remind the rest of us just how fragile and fleeting life really is. They remind us of the real purpose of our existence. They help the rest of us get our lives and our priorities straight.

Wednesday Night Bible Class

2008-01-11T05:34:00.000-08:00

This week in our Wednesday night Bible class we talked about I Peter 3:15. You know the passage that says; “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give a reason for the hope that you have…”

I was always taught that this passage was telling me to always be ready to argue – always be prepared to win a debate as to why my church is right and your church is wrong. It is another sad example of something that I must now add to my ever growing list of “Things that I was taught and believed incorrectly”.

Peter is not telling us to argue or defend. This passage has nothing to do with debate. It is simply about sharing your own personal story. Peter is telling us is to always be ready and willing to tell our God stories – what God has done for us – how Jesus has changed our lives. God wants us to enthusiastically tell others about our encounters with him. It is all about that dreaded “Baptist word” that I was always taught had no place in the real church. The word is testifying.

True believers know that there is no such thing as luck, coincidence, or chance. God is in control - even when we don’t want him to be – even when we don’t recognize it – even when we don’t acknowledge it. He is the conductor and we are his orchestra. He wants others to hear the music that he makes through us.

So, be on the lookout for your God moments. When you discover one, tell someone about it. It will bless you both.

Proverbs 3:5-6 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

The Conversation

2008-01-07T19:29:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting talk with an older gentleman the other day. This gentleman was very opinionated and spoke very harshly about the “State of the church” today. He claimed that a terrible evil had infiltrated the church. This evil that he was referring to was what he called “The Contemporary Movement”. He called the leaders of this movement “religious terrorist” – “wolves in sheep’s clothing”. He boldly proclaimed that these contemporary leaders were “rolling Hell right through the front door of the church”.

Just to give you a little of the flavor of the conversation, here is a direct quote:
(He gave me a printed copy of his thoughts)

Hell is rolling in the front door of the contemporary churches, demons are climbing through the windows, and the Devil is standing on the podium laughing with glee. These so called churches have become cesspools of sin and they are leading precious souls into the very jaws of hell.

Usually I would not find such a conversation interesting at all. Usually I would have very little tolerance for this type of venom. But, I was sort of a captive audience. So I listened with all the respect and patience I could muster. Apparently what had this fellow so fired up was his fear of change – any change. There wasn’t really any Biblical backing or support for his complaints, but to him, because church did not look or feel the way it used to, it must surely be evil. The old style churches that made him feel comfortable were dying, and the contemporary ones that he despised were growing. He bemoaned the fact that some popular preachers today were wearing flip-flops and Tee-shirts; they were preaching entertaining sermons and using upbeat contemporary singing in their services. (Apparently sermons and songs have to be boring and dull to be scriptural)

I did not argue with him. I did not try to point out the obvious inconsistencies that I saw in his line of reasoning. I simply told him that I knew a lot of good people who would agree with him. And I really thought what I told him was true. I do know a lot (a whole lot) of people who would absolutely agree with him. In fact, they would agree with him wholeheartedly - that is until they heard the rest of the story….

There were two things that made this conversation so interesting. First was the fact that this old gentlemen had been a preacher for over fifty years. The second thing was the odd fact that he was not a Church of Christ preacher. He was a Southern Baptist preacher.

So, maybe I don’t know anyone who would agree with him after all.

I wonder which is worse; a conservative Southern Baptist, or a contemporary member of the Church of Christ?

Deep Thinking

2007-12-25T11:00:00.000-08:00

Here are some profound things that I know to be true:

1. Eating too much makes you fat.
2. Sitting around too much makes you lazy.
3. Spending too much money makes you poor.
4. Reading books makes you wiser
5. Watching TV makes you an idiot.
6. If you re not growing and improving, then you are decaying and dieing.
7. Knowing these truths is not the same as acting on them. (Knowledge without
action is worthless)
8. I am responsible. (I have no one left to blame)

So, in 2008, if the Good Lord allows, I am going to strive to act on these simple truths.
I will let you know how I do.

Changing Your Perspective

2007-12-22T13:06:00.000-08:00

I had a colonoscopy Friday. That means that I spent most of the day Thursday sitting.
For those of you who have had this wonderful procedure before, you know that to prepare you must drink 4 liters of Go-Lyte laxative the day before the procedure. (Whoever named the laxative Go-Lyte had a cruel warped sense of humor)
I did however make the most of my sitting time. I read the book “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom. I think that it should be required reading for all humans.

I had my New Years resolutions all made out. I had my 2008 wish list of things I wanted to buy and do all prepared. After reading this book however, I threw it out and made a new list.

In 2008 I want to work less and play more. I want to talk less and listen more. I want to worry less and pray more. I want to make things grow. I want to make a positive difference in someone else’s life. I want to learn to dance.

“Each night when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.” –MAHATMA GANDHI

When Prayer Doesn't Work

2007-12-18T20:37:00.000-08:00

She was just one of many - just another name on the board that had to be checked off before we could all go home. She looked like a typical cancer patient. Her skin was pale and transparent. She was thin and frail. Her hair was falling out from all of the Radiation treatments. Her body was sick and her heart was failing. She needed a pacemaker to encourage her tired heart to keep beating.

I talked softly to her. I used all the kindness I could muster. I knew that she was suffering. I knew that even with a pacemaker she was not long for this world. More than that, I knew that she was scared. You don't have to be a nurse very long before you can recognise true fear in some one's eyes. I promised her medicine - medicine to ease the pain, and to help her relax. It was all that I had.

It startled me when she grabbed my hand. She grabbed it with a force that was way beyond her strength. She could barely talk so I had to lean down close to her mouth to hear what she wanted. "Are there any praying nurses here?" she asked. "Yes Ma'am", I replied. "We are all praying nurses." There were about 4 of us hurrying around the room trying to get everything ready and I was pretty sure that I was telling her the truth. She then whispered, "Before you give me that medicine, would you pray for me?"

So, I prayed. The noise and all of the commotion in the room suddenly stopped. Everyone waited, everyone prayed along. I prayed as hard as I knew how. I asked God to be with her, to protect her, to heal her. I prayed for God to be with the doctors and the nurses. I prayed for God's angels to surround her and keep her safe. She smiled, and went to sleep.

The procedure was typical - no real problems. Afterwards, I woke her up and told her that everything had gone well and that she had come through it all just fine. Again she smiled.

There were a few tell tale signs early on that told us something wasn't right. Before we got her back to her hospital room her oxygen saturation started to drop slightly. At first it appeared to be nothing serious. We left her in the capable hands of a critical care nurse and then hurried back to the Lab to get started with the next patient.

About an hour later someone stuck their head through the door of the operating room to inform the doctor that his last patient had just developed a large pneumothorax. (That is where air leaks into the space between your lungs and your chest wall and your lungs colapse) It is a typical treatable complication. If it is caught quickly enough most people survive it. If however you are as weak and sick as this little lady was then your chances of surviving it are slim and none. I silently prayed for her again - I think everybody did.

I don't really know the end of the story. I'm not sure I want to know. I walked by her room today and her bed was empty.

Wake Up Call

2007-12-13T18:38:00.000-08:00

Granted, the doctor was in a pretty foul mood. He'd had a bad day. It was late, and he was tired. His words were well meant - just a little harsher than usual.

The recipient of his stinging rebuke was a 52 year old patient who, thanks to the quick actions of the Emergency Room Staff and the skill of this Cardiologist, had just survived his first heart attack. He was literally handed a second chance at life. I don't remember the exact words, but the conversation went something like this:

Doctor: "This was your wake up call. Like it or not, your life style has just changed! You no longer smoke cigarettes. You no longer drink 6 beers every time you go golfing. You have to start eating right and getting some regular exercise.

(It was at this point in the conversation that the patient mumbled something about maybe trying to cut down a little - the volume of the conversation then went up considerably)

Doctor: "ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT JUST HAPPENED? IF YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING YOU ARE GOING TO DIE - MAYBE NOT TODAY - BUT SOON!

It was obviously not what the patient wanted to hear. He would rather have been told that he would have to live without his left arm than to be told he had to break his habits and change his lifestyle. So, I'm pretty sure that we at Maury Regional Hospital will be seeing this patient again real soon.

What is it in our brains that makes us our own worst enemies? Why is it, that even when we know better, our bad habits become so powerful and wield such debilitating control over our lives?

Remember the old late night infomercial guy - Tony Robbins.? I have been reading some of his stuff lately.

Beliefs have the power to create and the power to destroy. Human beings have the awesome ability to take any experience of their lives and create a meaning that disempowers them or one that can literally save their lives.

The Joy of Gingerbread

2007-12-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

Last night we celebrated Andrea's Birthday. We turned the party into a Gingerbread House Building Party for the kids. You can see by the pictures which kid had the most fun....

Head Start On New Years Resolutions

2007-12-08T06:49:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to avoid the rush this year. The way I see it - if I make my New Years Resolutions now - I can test them out ahead of time and see which ones (if any) will have a snowballs chance...

I found an old copy of the goals that I had set for myself back in 1996. I realized that if I just photocopied that list and changed the date to 2008 I would be good to go. My Goals really haven't changed much over the years.

My Yearly Goals have always included 3 categories: Spiritual, Physical, and Financial. I also include a "Wish List" for projects that I would like to get done or things I would like to do that year.

In the Spiritual category one item that I always include is trying to read the entire Bible through in a year. I checked my records and I have only achieved this goal 5 times in the past 11 years. (This year I dropped out in July). That is less than a 50% score. In most schools that is considered failure with a capital "F". While I wish I could boast about a much higher success rate - I must admit that if I had I not included this Goal on my list I would have never bothered to read it even 5 times. So, I'm going to keep this one on the the list again this year.

I think I have my Physical and my Financial categories mixed up. My waist line keeps growing while my bank account keeps shrinking. There has to be a way to turn this around. Any suggestions???????

Family Portrait

2007-12-03T20:03:00.000-08:00

This is actually the first picture we have ever taken that includes all of our children together in one spot.

Here are the four reasons that we feel so blessed.

The Whole Gang

A Quick Update

2007-12-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

Its a busy time around the Anderson house. We have somewhere we have to be every night this week. With all of the Christmas stuff going on it doesn't leave much time for Christmas shopping. So, like always, I'm sure me and ma will be out Christmas eve again fighting for the last of whatever is left on the shelves. Oh well, if stress is what makes Christmas time so special, this one ought to be a doosy.

Andrea and I are both singing in the choir this year for our church Christmas play. Lynetta is the star of the drama this year! I never thought she would agree to that, but believe it or not, she is actually pretty good. The program is on Sunday December 16Th - 2 shows - one at 4:00pm and one at 6:00pm. We would love to have lots of you come and see it.

For my Michigan friends: I did something Saturday that you may find a little strange. I mowed the lawn and put up Christmas lights on the same day. There are a lot of people here in Tennessee who wait and take their Christmas lights down is July - right after they mow over the extension cord - but mowing the lawn and putting them up on the same day is strange - even for us Tennesseans.

The whole Famn Damily went Friday night to get our portraits taken for Christmas. The poor girl taking the pictures about fainted when she saw us all walk in together. They turned out pretty good. I will post some as soon as I can. We are planning on making some of them into Christmas cards - but, at this rate, it will probably be February before we get them mailed.

Hop-A-Long-Holiday

2007-11-27T18:34:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving started off with a bang - a really loud bang!
Late Wednesday evening Kari and the kids had stopped over to drop off some food and supplies for our Thanksgiving dinner. About midnight, as they were leaving, I heard a loud bang and a terrifying scream. I ran to the back door to see Kari lying in the mud at the bottom of the stairs. Her leg was twisted in an awkward manor beneath her. At first glance, in the dark, it appeared to be a serious fracture.

There were at least 4 factors that lead to the accident:
1. Kari had four year old Emily Klair in her arms. (Emily Klair was not hurt)
2. Kari was wearing old cheap flip-flops
3. It was pouring down rain.
4. The stairs have the reputaion of being too slick.
The combination of these factors led to a 3 hour trip to the Emergency room.

After all the screaming, crying and panic (mostly from us, not Kari) it turned out that there were no bones broken. Just a long laundry list of torn ligaments, sprained joints, and lots of cool bruises. She will be limping long into the new year. She spent Thankgiving day on our couch.

All in All it was a great Holiday. Any excuss to be with our family and friends is always great. As a matter of fact, If I could gauge our family holiday gatherings simply by how much weight I gained, then I would have to say that the Anderson Thanksgiving was a grand success!!

An Interesting Theory

2007-11-19T10:30:00.000-08:00

I ran across an interesting blog article the other day. It was written by a guy from Texas named Richard Beck. He refers to himself as a professor and experimental psychologist. You can read the entire article Here

The article uses a bunch of big words like thanatocentric and ante-mortum salvific self-verification (I think words like this are lovingly referred to as psycho-babble) But once you get past the big words, his theory is really rather interesting. I usually don't pay much attention to this type of stuff. Mostly because I have such trouble understanding it. (it makes my poor little head hurt) But this one caught my attention because it addressed a question that has really been on my mind lately: Why do some good Christian people become so unreasonable, defensive, harsh and down right un-Christ like anytime their particular religious views or practices are questioned or challenged? Why do reasonable people become so unreasonable when religion is involved?

Richard says that this behavior is a defense mechanism. It stems from having a thanatocentric (death centered) faith.

"If my faith is thanatocentric then faith becomes fundamentally about where I stand at the moment of death. Am I with the saved or with the lost? How can I tell? Well, you can tell by drawing ecclesial lines in the sand and then check--self-verify--where you stand. And you keep checking, almost daily, because death can come at any moment. Faith becomes a kind of obsessive-compulsive salvation check: Am I in? Yes, I'm in. Am I in? Yes, I'm in. Am I in? Yes, I'm in. Doctrine becomes about existential self-soothing.

In my tradition, being saved was defined by being a member of the Churches of Christ. And one of the defining features of that church was non-instrumental music. For better or worse, that issue became a means of ante-mortum salvific self-verification. But what happens, as is currently being done in progressive Churches of Christ, if that line in the sand starts getting rubbed out? Blurred? Well, you start robbing people of a mechanism for existential self-soothing. You've taken away an existential security blanket. If you start rubbing out all those lines of demarcation how can you tell who is or who is not going to hell? More vitally, how can I tell if I'm going to hell? That's the real issue. Where do I currently stand? Saved or Lost?

Death is a terrifying prospect. This is exacerbated if one also believes there is a hell of never-ending torment. Thus, faith, belief and doctrine begin to cluster around defining the Saved versus the Lost. If the church is our lifeboat then we become very invested in making a clear demarcation between church and non-church. I need very clear lines in the sand so that I can self-verify, over and over, that I'm on the right "side."

So, according to Richard, this harsh unreasonable behavior does not stem from malice, hatred, anger, or feelings of superiority. These behaviors simply come from fear - terrifying self limiting fear.

If Richards assumptions are correct, and in at least some cases I suspect that they are, then how should I respond to someone who has just chewed me a new back side for dissagreeing with their particular religious views?
If I truly believe that my faith is "Grace Centered" (I don't know a fancy psycho word for that) and not thanatocentric or "Death Centered" then how should I respond?

Eph. 4:2
With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love;
Eph. 4:32
And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.

This of course is much easier said than done.

Frustration (revised)

2007-11-14T13:29:00.000-08:00

(I published this one earlier, but Lynetta told me it was too vague and didn't make any sense. so, here is the revised version. Maybe this one will be better)

It's not really a matter of ignorance (that is such an ugly word). It is more a matter of capability.

It is obvious that a 6 year old child does not possess the life experience and prerequisite concepts required to understand the intricate concepts and formulas of college algebra. Everyone understands that. There are however, many adults (me included) who have never learned enough of the basic foundations of mathematics to understand even the first thing about solving a quadratic equation. And although my 6 year old grandson would probably have a better shot at understanding it than I do, it would really be futile for anyone to attempt explaining it to either of us.

But this article is not about college algebra. It is about the frustration of trying desperately to get someone to understand something that they simply do not have the capability of understanding.

I received a letter last week. The letter, though kind, was not meant to flatter me or encourage me. It was quite the opposite. The letter was was written in plain English. However, the words and thoughts contained in the letter were as foreign to me as if they had been written in Greek.

The letter claimed that I had been brainwashed by evil misguided people. The letter writer pleaded with me to give up my sinful beliefs and to renounce my warped views of grace, acceptance, tolerance and unity. The letter conclude with a tearful prayer that I would return to my senses and to the “one and only true church” before it was everlastingly too late. It asked for a response.

How do I respond to that? How could I even begin to explain? Are they even capable of understanding?

Or, perhaps it is me who is incapable. Should I be so arrogant as to think that I am much wiser and above such drivel? No, that would put me on the same level as the letter writer. I am sure of two things: First, I am convinced that the letter writer was sincere. Secondly, I am convinced that the letter writer thinks that they are at the top of the religious learning curve and somehow I have fallen or been led off of the curve completely.

Part of my frustration lies in the fact that I am so easily drawn back into these old useless arguments. I have this terrible tendency to want to criticize the criticizers - denounce the denouncers – and condemn the condemners. I can tolerate anything but intolerance!

By the way, I did respond to the letter. I wish now that I had not.

Our Wonderful Weekend in Gatlinburg

2007-11-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

To celebrate our 32 anniversary Lynetta and I enjoyed a great weekend in Gatlinburg. We went hiking, climbed on the rocks, and went shopping. The leaves were beautiful.The weather was perfect. The hiking was refreshing. The Outlet Malls were crowded, but our cabin was quiet and miles away from everyone. It's nice to get away every once in a while and just relax. It really is nice being married to your best friend too.

OOPS!

2007-11-03T14:44:00.000-07:00

My cousin Roger should love this one. (He is a lineman for the power company in Arkansas)

It was simply too beautiful a fall day to stay inside and watch football. I needed action, adventure, fresh air, and exercise. I needed to do something manly. So I sharpened up my old chainsaw and proceeded to cut down the old dead tree in my back yard, the one that has been threatening to fall on my neighbor's power lines. I did everything right. I studied the angles - adjusted for the wind - cut the notch just right - rechecked the distribution of limb weight to trunk mass - and then - convinced and proud that I had done everything according to the Manly Man's Hand Book - I made my final cut.
Apparently I forgot to figure in the rotation of the earth....
The Picture tells the rest of the story.

Meaningless, Meaningless

2007-11-03T08:43:00.000-07:00

"Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?

I meet an interesting old man last week. He was facing the end of his days here on earth. His lungs were diseased and scarred beyond repair - his heart was in even worse shape. He lacked the strength to even lift his head off the pillow. The doctors had done all they could do.
It wasn't his physical condition that made him so unusual, nor the fact that he only had a few days left to live. In my line of work I meet people like that every day. It was his dying wish that caught my attention.

He told me that all he really wanted was what he called a "temporary patch job". He only needed enough strength to make one last trip to the Casinos in Tunica Mississippi. That was it - that was his dying wish! He had convinced himself that all of the answers to all of his problems could somehow magically be fixed by one lucky tug on a slot machine handle.

His words really caught me off guard. How could anyone be so foolish? How could anyone really think that money was the answer for anything? It sounded so absurd coming from the lips of a dying man.

God has a subtle way of using the people around me to sometimes remind me of my own faults and my own insanity. It occurred to me that in reality the only difference between this poor misguided man and the rest of us, is the time he had left to live. We all waste our lives working hard and chasing after the things that are really meaningless. We neglect and misuse the truly important things in life because we are too busy working for the useless stuff.

More Strange Things

2007-10-31T11:06:00.000-07:00

Here is one more entry from my list of strange things that I have learned over the past fifty years:
1. Life is not fair. It's not meant to be. In many ways I am glad that it's not. In my life I have been blessed beyond measure and the longer that I live the more I realise that I truly do not deserve any of it. If my health, wealth, and happiness were dependent upon or in direct proportion to how good, how righteous, or how well disciplined I was, then I would probably be cold, wet, and hungry living alone in a cardboard box somewhere.

Psalms 102:10 he does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.

Psalms 16:5-6 LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
you have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.

Mile Stones

2007-10-25T19:50:00.000-07:00

Life mile stones like hitting the big 5-0 are a good time for reflection. It's a good time for looking back at where you've been and wondering about the things you wish you could have done differently. it's also a great time for looking forward and hoping that you have matured and grown a little wiser. I pray that through the process of living these past 50 years I have learned enough about life and love and God's grace to help make me a better person.

Here is just one of the strange things that I've learned along the way:

Outwardly I feel like I'm falling apart. My glasses and my waist size are both getting thicker. Physically I feel 50. But inside I haven't changed much. My soul, my inner self, still feels just like it did at 18, 25, 30, and 40. I am convinced that if this old body holds on until 90 the spark inside me will be just as strong or stronger than it has ever been.

I keep finding that the words in the Bible are really true after all:

II Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Up Up and Away

2007-10-24T11:16:00.000-07:00

Well, this week I finally pasted the half century mark. I celebrated my 50th birthday Tuesday by going to work and trying to pretend like it was just another day. My Coworkers bought me pizza and an icecream cake for lunch (so much for my new diet) Later that evening Lynetta surprised me with a very unusual gift.

For the past few years Lynetta has listened as I bemoaned the fact that I was tired of just watching other people live. I told her that with what time I have left I want to experience life for myself. No more sitting on the couch watching other people's adventures - I want to experience my own adventures. So, to shut me up she bought me a Hot Air Ballon Ride!!!!! Me and my big mouth.

I have always wanted to bungee jump too, but I was always afraid that when the time came for my feet to leave the platform that I just wouldn't be able to move. So, it's up up and away. Depending on the weather conditions I should be flying over Nashville within the next few weeks. I will take lots of pictures and some extra underwear.

Happiness Is....

2007-10-17T21:20:00.000-07:00

Happiness is building your grandkids a new tree house.

Death before Change

2007-09-28T06:07:00.000-07:00

I heard an interesting and disturbing statistic this week. I heard that more than 600,000 people have open heart surgery (CABG) each year in the United States. Of those 600,000 people, 90% make little or no lifestyle changes and end up right back on the operating table or dead within two years. Those who smoke continue to smoke. Those who are over weight and out of shape continue to live and eat just like they always have.
I work in the Cardiac Cath Lab at Maury Regional Hospital. I meet these people every day. Many of our patients are return customers. I see the disbelief, fear, and dread in their eyes when the doctor comes in and tells them that their arteries have clogged back up again. They say, “How could this be?” “How could I let this happen again?”
A heart attack is a major life changing event – it is literally life or death - do or die. If you are blessed enough to survive the first one you had better make the necessary changes in your lifestyle to prevent the second one. Everyone knows that. Everyone understands that. But the sad fact is that less than 10% do anything about it.
Is it because we fear change worse than we fear death? No, I don’t think so. I’m convinced that the 90% desire changes more than anything – but they are incapable of change. It is like pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. They don’t know how to live any other way.
What would it take to change your lifestyle? We all think that we are above all of this foolishness – I did. I told myself that I was much too smart and well educated to fall into that trap. But fall I did. (Proverbs 16:18)
I had my Heart Cath back in June. While there were no blockages, there was significant Coronary Artery Disease (arterial sclerosis). I admit that since June I have made no changes in my lifestyle. I have actually gained 5 more lbs. I am the 90%

Empty Nest?

2007-09-23T11:52:00.000-07:00

Here is a sure fire way to avoid the "Empty Nest Syndrome" that most couples our age experience. Simply fill your house up with Grand kids. (it really helps to have a built in babysitter like Krysi)

Tyler and Emily Klair spent the night with us Friday night. We enjoyed playing around a campfire, riding the Four Wheeler, and going out for ice cream. Early the next morning Kinsley and Karlie came over to join in the fun. We went to soccer games and out for Happy Meals. It was quite a weekend.

At this rate Ma and I will probably be living in a nursing home before we ever experience that "Empty Nest Thing." Here is one more picture that I couldn't resist posting. Emily Klair took this one of Granny late Friday night. It looks like Granny has had about all of the fun she can handle. :)

Follow up to Counting the Cost

2007-09-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

So what does all this mean and what does it have to do with me?
Well, the elderly couple in the previous article are my parents. I have told the story before about how I was disowned and disfellowshiped by my parents because of my "liberal" religious views. It has been six years this month since my parents have spoken to me or my children. I feel guilty about comparing their religious zeal to that of a radical extremist, but I must admit the concept is really similar.

I suppose after six years I should be over it - in many ways I am - in many ways I'm not. I still stuggle with how I am suppose to feel about all of this.

Please understand, I think my parents ideas and action are simple, misguided and cult-like. But I do not think of them as bad people. They are not bad - They are just the opposite. If you ever got the chance to meet them you would love them too.

I have come to accept the fact that nothing in this life will ever change this situation. I had a conversation recently with one of my parent's old freinds. They were talking about how sad the situation was. I assured them that I would change it if I could. They sadly agreed that there was nothing that could be done.

I know that I will not be welcome at their funerals. Perhaps I should just have my own little service for them and move on.

Counting the Cost - How much is too much?

2007-09-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

The headlines were the same today as they have been for the past several years: “Six Killed in Suicide Bomb Blast.” It happens so often now that it seems we are becoming immune to it. The details of such tragedies are only deemed news worthy now if they happen close to home on American soil.
Have you ever wondered what would cause someone to go to such extremes? What could possibly motivate a person to strap a bomb to their own body, walk into a crowd of innocent people, and push the detonator? We use words like Radical Extremist to define these people. We tend to think of them as sick, twisted, disturbed, evil or insane. They would prefer that we used words like loyal, brave, servants, soldiers and Martyrs.
I admit that I know nothing about the Koran. I have never read it. I have however heard a few “Moderate Muslims” on The Fox News Channel claiming that the Muslim religion is really a religion of peace. They claim the Koran does not teach or promote such radical hatred and martyrdom. They claim that these “extremist” who are bent on killing themselves and everyone else are misguided and do not know their scriptures. But many readers and followers of the Koran obviously disagree with this view.
Is there such a thing as a Christian Radical Extremist? What does one look like?
I know an elderly couple who used to be members of a 1000+ member Church. What set this couple apart was their belief that passages like I Corinthians chapter 5 should be taken very literally. (Do not fellowship with immoral brothers, do not associate with or even eat with Christians who sin) Over time and through much study and reinforcement they came to identify and lump into this category of “sinners” anyone who happened to disagreed with their traditional religious views.
To make a long painful story shorter – Over time, while being loyal to their conviction, they have slowly disassociated themselves from most everyone they know. Friends and family were not immune to this strong doctrinal stance. As a mater of fact this couple has disowned and has no contact with two of their own children and several of their grand and great grand children. They have disassociated themselves into a very small corner. They now worship in a small congregation of 30 – 40 people
So, what is the point? On the one hand such loyalty and willingness to obey at any cost must be commendable. To sacrifice even fellowship with your own children to hold true to your convictions must be a grand virtue. Didn’t Jesus say that anyone who loves their father and mother, son or daughter more than me is unworthy of me? Surely one who is willing to sacrifice his own life for his cause or his God must be held in high esteem.
So when does religious fervor, dedication and commitment end and radical extremism start? How much is too much? How far is too far? I’m sure that the exact line is debatable. But I think it can most easily be defined by the victims. True religion should have no victims.
Matthew 22:37-40 Ecclesiastes 7:16

Sorting it all out

2007-09-13T07:20:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I’ve written anything. I could blame my absence on a mixture of excuses. I could blame it on a critical lack of time, a sad lack of inspiration, or just plain laziness. But, to be quite honest, and maybe a little too revealing, I’ve been in sort of a funk lately – a mood that is very hard to define. I am quite certain that if I can somehow manage to get my heart around the exact thoughts and feelings that are causing this funk I will be able to talk myself out of it.
If you are one of those blessed people who never gets down then go ahead and skip this page. If you however are like most of us, and struggle with a dip in your joy meter every once in a while, then read on. And by all means please offer some comments, encouragements, and suggestions. Perhaps we can help each other.

The following thoughts and ideas are just my way of trying to sort it all out.

How could a life filled with so many blessings and so many reasons for thankfulness, happiness and joy sometimes feel so mundane and joyless? (I feel guilty even writing this question)
Intellectually I know the answer. My mind knows the story and the thoughts of King Solomon found in the book of Ecclesiastes but apparently my heart and soul have not yet grasped the concept.

Contentment vs. Complacency
I know that the Bible teaches that true happiness is found in contentment. (I Timothy 6:6-8, Philippians 4; 12, Proverbs 19:13, Ecclesiastes 12:13-14) However, does striving for self improvement physically, intellectually, or financially signal discontentment? Should I feel guilty when I long for self improvement? Is my desire for physical improvement just vanity? Could my desire for some financial stability be considered greed?

Again, intellectually I know the answer. Godliness and a Fear of the Lord must proceed and far outweigh all else. (Mark 6:33) Honestly, when it comes to text book answers, my head is a lot smarter than my heart – but my heart always wins. (Or perhaps, my trouble is just the opposite)
What do you think?

Our Little Beauty Queen

2007-09-03T20:09:00.000-07:00

I just couldn't resist showing off our new little beauty Queen. Emily Klair was 1st Runner up in the Maury County Little Miss Pageant. We have enjoyed this precious smile for the past 4 years. I knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world noticed it. Great Job Emily Klair! We love you!

High School Football in Middle Tennessee

2007-09-01T08:20:00.000-07:00

We went to the Columbia Central vs. Spring Hill high school football game Friday night. It was small town USA at it's finest. It raised my opinion of mankind in general, and it actually helped to soften my cynical attitude a little.

It was a prefect night for Football. There was a cool breeze and a big orange moon in the sky. (not UT orange)

The first thing that got my attention was watching and listening as the CHS Band marched on to the field to play the National Anthem. There was thunderous applause and cheers - most of it coming from the kids in the Spring Hill Band! Great Rivals cheering for each other - what's this world coming to?

The National Anthem always gets me. As the Colors were marched to the middle of the field there were many who didn't need to be told to stand. I looked around and there were many older men, veterans I suppose, who were already on their feet standing at attention. The heartfelt devotion and respect for the symbol of our country is alive and well here in Middle Tennessee.

The game was rather one sided but it didn't really matter. These young athletes were awesome and I would have been proud to have been sitting on either side of the arena.

Next was the half time show. Spring Hill's Band went first with a great oldies medley from the Beatles Magical Mystical Tour Album. The many hot hours of practice and the hard work these young people put into this show was evident. I loved it.

Central's half time show started with a short audio clip of a speech by John F Kennedy talking about the senselessness of violence. As if that wasn't moving enough - they played a beautiful rendition of the old hymn, "When Peace Like a River" (It is Well With My Soul). I was blown away.

As my wife and I were walking out after the game I got one more very moving surprise. I looked back on to the field to see a very large group of people huddled on the 50 yard line. The group was made up all of the coaches, athletes and cheer leaders from both schools. I noticed that there were even a few Officials and some parents in the group. They were all on their knees praying together.

I believe that many wars and acts of terrorism could be avoided if we would just invite the world to come and enjoy High School Football in Middle Tennessee. It just doesn't get any better than this.

Roller Disco?

2007-08-29T19:08:00.000-07:00

Lynetta and I went rollerskating tonight!
The church had a family skating party. It was a costume party with a 70's theme. It was great! There were more Afros, bell bottoms, beads, and peace signs than we had seen since back when we were there the first time - back in the real 70's.
You see, Lynetta and I started dating when I was 13 years old. (1971) She actually gave me my 14Th birthday party. She lived across town, and I couldn't drive. The only time we got to see each other was at church. The only dates we ever got to go on were the monthly church skating parties. So, we never missed one.

Just to tell you how much things have changed since the real 70's; We were never allowed to play popular music at the church skating parties. The only music that was allowed was organ music. The Roller Rink had special records just for us. They (the church leaders and our parents) were afraid that we might play Rock and Roll. They thought skating to Rock and Roll looked too much like dancing. We heard many fiery sermons about avoiding even the "appearance of evil." We all thought it was ridiculous. How could rollerskating while listening to "real music" ever appear evil? We never really complained though - at least not out loud.

So tonight - some 36 years later - Lynetta and I enjoyed Rollerskating together again. My feet were killing me. I probably won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow. There were a couple of times that I wanted to take off my skates and quit. But, I knew from experience that the "Couple Skate" was near the end of the night. I remembered that 36 years ago the "Moonlight Couple Skate" was the highlight of my month. Things haven't changed much after all.

A Cool Breeze?

2007-08-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

Today is the eleventh straight day that Middle Tennessee has had temps over the 100 degree mark. In my typical lazy man fashion I am using this extended heat wave to my advantage.
I have a long list of things that really need to be done around my house, but its just too hot :)

As I was puttering around my back yard this morning I could have sworn that I felt a cool breeze. It only lasted for a second, and it was just slightly cooler than the dry blistering air that surrounded me, but it gave me a chill. This phantom breeze rustled the leaves on the trees sending many of them falling to the ground. For just a split second it reminded me of Fall - my favorite time of year.

I spent the rest of the morning procrastinating and dreaming of the cooler days to come. I made a list of all the grand things that I will accomplish when the weather becomes more favorable.
It seems that I am always waiting for something. My list of dreams, goals and simple everyday chores keeps growing - but so does my list of excuses.

So I'm writing this simply to remind myself of this hot day in August. A day when I had all the time in the world and accomplished absolutely nothing. I plan on rereading this post in February when I'm sure that I will be procrastinating and dreaming of warm summer days. Yeah, that's when I'll get busy- that's when I'll get it all done.

Lynetta's lines

2007-08-14T18:44:00.000-07:00

I took Matthew up to Lipscomb College Monday. I helped him set up his dorm room. I organized his closet. I made up his bed. I did everything a mother should do - then I kissed him good-bye and I left. I held up pretty well - at least until I got in the car and drove away. All year long I have been trying to prepare myself for this day. I knew from my experience with sending Kari and Andrea off to college how hard it was going to be. But, sending Matthew off to college was only part of the challenge that I faced.

Matthew has always talked to us about someday finding his biological mother. Gary and I have always supported him and encouraged him. We told him that we would help him anyway that we could. I guess I just never dreamed it would happen so quicky.

You would think that I would have learned by now to simply trust God and let him lead. But I must admit that I am still struggling with that one. If I were allowed to write the ending to Matthew's story I'm not so sure that I could. Perhaps I am being nieve, perhaps I am being a little over protective, perhaps a little selfish. While I was thinking of words like closure and acceptance and moving on, God was using words like relationship, new beginnings, and family.

I understand that the words that God seems to be choosing for Matthew are much better than the ones I had in mind but they are unexpected and to be honest they are a little scary. But I'll be fine (a little insecure, but fine) God and I have had differences of opinion before. Luckily, he always wins.

Psamls 139 3-6 (Easy to read version) Lord, you know what I want to say, even before the words leave my mouth. Lord you are all around me - in front and in back of me. You gently put your hand on me. I am amazed at what you know. It is too much for me to understand.

My Latest Reason To Worry

2007-08-13T20:15:00.000-07:00

Just thought that I would lighten up a little and share with you just one more reason for my gray hair and shattered nerves. Jesi got her licence last week. Lord help us all :)

Two Sides to Every Airport

2007-08-12T12:27:00.000-07:00

While picking up Matthew at the airport Saturday Lynetta and I noticed something profound. We noticed it at about the same time.

One of our shared hobbies has always been people watching - especially in airports. We love to watch people interact and then try to figure out their stories.
We were watching a young Asian couple quietly huddled together on a bench. It was obvious from their affections that one of them would soon be leaving and one of them would be staying behind. Perhaps it was just the mood we were in (a direct result of the emotional roller coaster we have been on lately) but the scene soon became very sad and very hard to watch. The closer the time came for the one to depart, the more desperate and intense the embraces became. They were not even trying to hide their tears. It was as if no one else was around.
Of course there were other people around - lots of people. We saw a little boy clinging to his grandmother. He was crying (more like wailing) and pleading with her not to leave. There was a large family obviously sending their first child off to some far away college. The emotions were intense - the scenes all heartbreaking. We soon found ourselves being drawn into the sadness.
We watched as the young Asian couple finally separated - their fingers reaching and touching just as far and as long as they could. It was the man who was leaving. The young woman stood alone and watched him until he finally disappeared behind the terminal. Then she slowly turned and walked away - alone - in a sea of people - desperately alone. The tears in her eyes and the pain in her heart were contagious. We didn't know her, but our hearts were breaking for her
Then, suddenly, across the aisle, on the other side of the airport, we heard cheering - shouts of joy and celebration. It seemed very out of place and highly inappropriate.
We quickly realised that there was another side to this airport. There was the departure side and there was the arrival side. The departure side was sad, painful, and depressing. The arrival side on the other hand was pure joy. Lynetta and I looked at each other at same time and smiled. Almost in unison we said, "Were sitting on the wrong side of the airport!"

As we travel through this life we must endure many departures - some short term ones, and others more permanent. It helps to know that the more painful and difficult the departure, the sweeter and more glorious the reunion. In other words, no matter how tough it gets down here in this life just remember: We are all just temporarially sitting on the wrong side of the airport.

Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

2007-08-11T18:18:00.000-07:00

This is a picture that Matthew brought back from Florida. The lady that looks like so much like Matthew is his birth mother Laura. Beside her is her husband John, Connor age 14, Blake age 10, and Austin age 8.

A Quick Update

2007-08-10T19:14:00.000-07:00

Matthew called today. He is doing fine. Actually he's doing great.. It seems that his birth family lives on a lake, and have a boat, with lots of toys. So don't feel too sorry for him.
Lynetta and I celebrated his good furtune by going to Walmart and spending $300.00 on stuff he will need to head off to college Monday. So, life goes on.
When he gets home maybe I can talk him into writing on this blog and sharing some of his pictures and stories.
Thank you all for your interest, thoughts, comments and prayers!

Waiting for Word

2007-08-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

Today the National news is fixed on the unknown fate of the six miners trapped in a coal mine out in Utah. The agony of each passing minute for the families and loved ones is unimaginable.
My heart truly goes out to them. I have prayed for those families. I ask you to do the same.
I do not in anyway mean to minimise the horror of that situation, but I wanted to tell you about another agonizing wait.

Lynetta put Matthew on an airplane this afternoon and sent him off to Florida. There waiting for him to get off of that plane in Tampa was Laura, his birth mother, Connor, his 15 year old full brother, and Blake and Austin, his 10 & 8 year old half brothers, and his maternal grandparents.
We are very grateful that Matthew is getting this opportunity to meet his birth family, but we must admit it is a little unnerving - especially for Lynetta.

So, here we sit waiting for word - any word. We know that he got there safe - and we are greatful. We know that he will be treated with all of the love in the world - and we are greatful. But what we really need to know is how he is inside. Matthew is a very mature independent young man in many ways, but he is still very young at heart. We are still, I suppose, a little over protective of that heart.

Tonight after supper I pulled out a few old photographs of Matthew and his sisters. I heard sniffling behind me. I turned around to see Lynetta with big crocodile tears in her eyes. So I put the pictures away and gave her a big hug.

Every time the phone rings we both jump out of our skin. He had better call soon!