Corner Reflections

Christmas Tree Outing

2011-11-28T12:43:00.001-05:00

For the second year in a row, our family journeyed to the Neiman Tree Farm to pick out our Christmas tree. The four of us meandered through the rows and rows of beautiful Fraser Firs looking for just the right tree to catch all our eyes. That four of us, (Mom, Dad, son, and daughter) could agree on a single tree seems impossible but we were able to come to a consensus in short order and without much debate or compromise. We were all in agreement--the tree we stood around was the one.

I took several pictures of the tree before it was to be cut down for us. I tried to get the kids to stand around it and let me take a picture, but that was not something we could agree upon. I lost that argument. I was simply trying to preserve a memory I knew I would look back upon in years to come. But the memory will be etched in my mind, picture or not.

In short order, the tree was cut down and placed upon the top of our vehicle. We proudly drove off congratulating ourselves on what a fine tree it was and how beautiful it would look in our home when adorned with lights and ornaments!

We concluded this journey with a trip to Five Guys Burgers—a favorite of the kids, and mom and dad. Again, agreement was reached quickly and easily. It had actually been decided we would go there before we even left the house.

The tree does it indeed look beautiful in our home and provides a fragrant aroma that enhances our holiday mood. Christmas is made of events like this. Moments that transform into a tradition that we each will remember for years to come. We will tell stories about it and, I suspect, embellish the stories over the years with phrases like “I saw the tree first!,” or “Dad got lost again!”

But it was a moment to enjoy being family. Families aren’t perfect—ours certainly is not. We have our own sense of frustrations with each other at times. And at times we enjoy the tremendous sense of harmony and belonging. Christmas brings a heightened awareness to the value of family. And I’m glad our Christmas tree outing has enriched our family again this year.

Thinking, Saying, Doing!

2011-08-27T14:10:00.001-04:00

Gandhi once said, "Happiness occurs when what you think, what you say, and what you do, are in perfect harmony."

We all want happiness. How we express that desire may be different for each of us. And what that happiness looks like in the end, most likely is different for each of us. Happiness could be winning the big game; being accepted into the college of our choice; having children who are healthy; having a career that fulfills our lives. No doubt we could come up with any number of other qualities, opportunities, or fulfilled dreams that could make us happy.

But when you look closely at the quote from Gandhi, you may become disheartened. We want happiness. But getting what I think, what I say, and what I do in perfect harmony as the key to happiness may well be beyond our skill. If I don’t say what I think, and do what I say, happiness may well escape me. It would likely be right here that Charlie Brown would most likely give up and let out his famous phrase, “Good Grief!”

But maybe there’s a way. Our minds are constantly filled with thoughts that demand our attention and consume our time. What if we were to somehow filter through those thoughts and get to the core of what really matters to us. I suspect that sifting our thoughts may just be what the doctor ordered. Some of my thoughts I can’t do anything with right now anyway, so let them go. Other thoughts will require the input and advice of others, so I can move them to another place until that input and advice is received. There are some thoughts that can simply be tossed aside. Like when I begin to think what it would be like to hit the jackpot in the lottery drawing. It’s not likely to happen since I don’t buy lottery tickets. It’s fun to dream, but no need to let the thought consume me.

I don’t know what Gandhi would say, but filtering my thoughts seems like a plausible place to start.

How about the saying part? Seems like I remember a part of a song I learned as a child. “O, be careful little mouth what you say.” It’s easy to let the wrong words slip across our lips. And once they are spoken we can’t simply take them back. But it’s also just as easy to let the right words stay tucked inside and never let them be spoken. How many times have I heard someone say, “I wish I had told her that I love her.” Words are a gift. Use them as a gift.

Then there’s this doing part. There are a number of things I do that contribute to a sense of happiness and they are connected to what I think and what I say. So often I find that the day is filled with other things to do that may or may not be in harmony with what I think and say. The challenge is to focus on doing those activities that enhance my sense of fulfillment. Sure the other things may still have to be done, but learning to prioritize those activities can sure help.

I like the quote by Gandhi. I think he’s right. "Happiness occurs when what you think, what you say, and what you do, are in perfect harmony."

Summer Plans

2011-06-11T15:02:00.002-04:00

Recently my wife shared with us at a meal her list of activities she wanted to fulfill during her summer break as an elementary school teacher. Among those activities she listed fishing. That’s an activity she will complete with her brother at a fishing hole yet to be decided. If we are lucky we may even get to have a fish fry as a result.

Since she created a summer list, I decided I would give a try at creating my own summer list of activities. So in no particular order here is my list.

Vacation. Well, that goes without saying but it is a good activity to have on my list. And not just any vacation. But specifically, Pawleys Island, SC, with my family. We’ve been going there around 15 years now and our summer just isn’t complete without a trip there. Now that the kids are getting older I realize that this family trips will be more difficult to schedule.

Visit the family cemetery. Let me explain. Our family cemetery is a small one located on the highest point of a farm that has been in my family for over 100 years. About a dozen of our family members are buried there, including my brother and parents. We aren’t able to get there very often through the year so going and placing flowers at the graves, checking up on things, and telling stories that are recalled from precious memories is always a special event.

Golf with my son. I’ve not played all year, neither has he. But getting out on the course proves to be a great experience. Where we will play and when needs to be scheduled soon!!!

Movies with my daughter. I’m not sure what movies will come out this summer but I’m sure we can find something to see together. Harry Potter comes out July 15th!!

Nice dinner out with my wife. Eating at a nice restaurant, just the two of us, sounds like a special treat. And it is!! I already have some leads on great restaurants and there are some free evenings opening up soon!

Scheduling all these activities around the schedules of our son who is playing football and our daughter who is playing trumpet in the band, and trying to accommodate the things the most certainly have on their own summer list might present a bit of a challenge. I suspect we will get it all done somehow though.

If you were expecting something a bit more grand like an extended family vacation to Europe, well that’s probably found on my “bucket list” rather than on my summer 2011 list. Even so, completing these activities in the weeks before school starts will produce enough good memories, laughs, and pictures to last me until I create another list—perhaps a fall list would be good.

Out of Christmas, Into Routine

2010-12-28T20:57:00.000-05:00

Things can change a whole lot in the span of a month. It wasn’t quite a month ago that I wrote of picking out a Christmas tree at a Christmas tree farm and starting a new family tradition with our family. With great anticipation we brought the tree home. There was a lot to look forward to.

Today we took the tree down. There was no fanfare, no Christmas music playing in the background, no remembering which ornament came from which year. No, just the task of getting everything taken down, boxed up and put away for next year. There was with all of this a certain let down—that the events of the past month had come to an end; that the daily routine which had been interrupted with shopping trips, Christmas parties, Christmas movies, Christmas concerts, Christmas meals, family gatherings, and the like, was now settling back into just that—the daily routine. Nothing wrong with routine. I kind of like routines. I just wasn’t ready for the daily routine to come quite yet.

As my son and I carried the tree outside and readied it to be taken to a recycling center, I wanted some sort of fanfare, some sort of festival. We speak with excitement about “putting up the tree.” Should we not also have a similar excitement as we “take down the tree?” Perhaps we build up the season a bit too much. Could it be that in all our excitement to get to Christmas we really do make it out to be something it was never meant to be, and for which, with all our decorations and gift-giving and receiving, will never be? Are we looking for a perfection we simply can never expect to find?

If I read the Christmas story from Luke there was a lot of routine stuff happening. Some miraculous things too, but routine stuff as well. Take for instance the taxes. Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem to be registered for a tax. I paid property taxes and car taxes this month. And come January, I’ll be getting ready to file income tax returns. It happens every year. Pretty routine.

Luke continues. Bethlehem is busy and there’s no room in the inn for Mary and Joseph. I don’t know what inns were like in those days, but I know when sports events are happening in certain cities, you couldn’t find a room if you had to. That’s pretty routine.

Mary gives birth to her firstborn, a son named Jesus. It hardly fails when I am in our local hospital that I hear the lullaby melody signaling the birth of a new baby. Again, routine.

But Luke reminds us in the midst of such routine, people encountered God. Remember the shepherds keeping watch over their flock by night? In the midst of routine, God.

So we are back into a routine, or soon will be. Maybe we try so hard to encounter God through the upstaging of Christmas, that we never can hear or see God. Maybe it’s in the routine after all, if we pay attention, open our lives and our hearts, that we will hear God.

Christmas Cookies

2010-12-16T21:31:00.006-05:00

The sweet aroma of Christmas cookies filled the house as our guest opened the door to let my daughter and me in. Though she had not been baking all day, she had baked long enough for the smell to permeate the halls and the rooms of her home adding more Christmas cheer to our visit. We were delivering a gift from my daughter and son for her. Mostly it was my daughter’s making but my son managed to get his name on the gift as well.

She invited us to sit as she opened her gift and offered us a gift of her own—freshly baked cookies. These were not your ordinary pick-off-the-grocery-store-refrigerator-shelf-and-pop-into-the-oven type of cookies. No, these cookies were clearly hand made from scratch with years of experience behind them to yield the perfect Christmas cookies.

Each of the cookies were a different shape, size, texture, taste, and smell. But all were great. She explained which ones were the favorite choices of some of her family members and would encourage us to try them as she told us about them. One in particular I remember was what she called a “thumbprint. Roll out the dough, place it on the cookie sheet, press your thumb in the middle, and then place some strawberry jam in the middle. (My mouth is watering just thinking of it.) But while the process sounds simple enough, it was evident these cookies were made by one whose expertise could be matched by few. Not just any one could create such a treat.

Some cookies had sprinkles on them, others had powdered sugar, some were plane but made in unique Christmas shapes like stars, candy canes, and ornaments. We tried each kind—I’m sure of it!

Kate and I both agreed we were glad we had stopped by when we did. What a treat! Ah, but there’s more to the story that makes it even more special for me. Our guest, Maria by name, and some of you will know her, told us that the recipes she used had been handed down from her grandmother. She told us how she remembered as a child growing up in Germany and how her mother and grandmother would make them each Christmas. There was a glint in her eye and a glow on her face. That was a special memory for her. I’m glad she shared it with us.

I could tell that continuing this Christmas tradition for her own children and grandchildren, and friends, was just as important to her as the memory she held in her heart. My mind began to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in Germany and celebrate Christmas. Just the thought added to my Christmas celebration. When it came time to leave she sent us on our way with a hug and a bag of cookies to share with our family.

Creating special memories can easily happen at Christmas. Sometimes they come at unexpected times. But if we let them, those memories will bring peace, hope, joy, and love to our Christmas celebration each year.

Traditions

2010-11-26T21:32:00.002-05:00

The day after Thanksgiving has traditionally been a day when my family eats leftovers from Thanksgiving Dinner and decorates for Christmas. We may visit a local store for their holiday sales, but never really take much time indulging in Black Friday. This year we added a new element to our holiday preparations.

We visited a Christmas Tree Farm. Our artificial tree had seen its better days and we disposed of it last year. This year we knew we wanted a real tree. We just weren’t sure where to get it. The big box stores or nurseries had been our preference in the past when we have had a live tree, but we were never completely satisfied. I located several Christmas Tree farms in Lexington. We chose one and made a visit there this afternoon.

To say that the farm with rows of beautiful Fraser Firs of varying was breathtaking may be an understatement. We were given instructions about how to pick out a tree and where to look. The man told us to let them know which one we wanted, they would cut it and put it on the truck. They gave us a 10 foot pole so we could judge the size of the tree we selected.

David, Kate, Jennifer and I looked for several minutes. Then we found just the right one. We took some pictures of it, including some of the kids around it for a Christmas card. It was a beautiful sunny day and the air was frigid adding to the sense of the approaching Christmas season. There was even some snow on the branches of the tree from the night before.

I’m not sure who among the four of us had the most fun. One thing for sure, I was as “giddy as a school boy” to use a line from “A Christmas Carol.” We finished the afternoon by enjoying a meal at our favorite burger joint, “Five Guys and a Burger.” Then we did some quick Christmas shopping and returned home.

The tree sits in our family room filling the house with its fragrance and its beauty. We’ll enjoy it the next several weeks as we celebrate the Christmas season. It goes without saying, but this is indeed “the most wonderful time of the year!!”

Lunchtime Blessings

2010-11-09T14:32:00.002-05:00

Each month I have lunch at an assisted living home in our community. The folks there are gracious enough to allow our church staff to eat with our members who live there in a quiet room together. It’s a wonderful chance to get to see these folks on a regular basis and to catch up on what’s been happening at church and in their lives.

Our conversations are light and almost always include a lot of laughter. They sometimes regal our staff and me with stories from their past—their first love, the secrets to a long life, what happiness looks and feels like, the friends who have died, visits from grandchildren and great-great grandchildren, among others. It is always a refreshing time spent with some very special people.

I chuckle at times at how opinionated they can be and how easily they share those opinions. Then I remind myself that one day I may be just as opinionated. At other times I simply grateful that they are still with us and I wonder how much longer we will have them as the blessing they are.

I marvel at how much they have been through in this life and how resilient they are to the changes they have witnessed over the years. I wonder if I will have the same resiliency.

There is much they teach me every time we gather. But perhaps the greatest lesson is one of thanks for dear friends who have blessed my life.

A Clean Garage and a Clean Heart

2010-07-31T21:42:00.005-04:00

I cleaned out the garage today. All the other tasks for a typical Saturday were done and I was in the mood for cleaning the garage. It has been on my mind for several weeks now, reminders from my childhood when my dad implored me to be sure to put everything away after I use it. I really do try to do that but I am so busy after all, leaving something on the workbench or a shelf for a week or two can’t be all bad. And I’m sure I won’t lose whatever it is I sit there.

So with a determination I set forth on my task. My wife reminded me to be sure to sweep the garage out good because we are tracking all that junk in on her clean floors. I think she has forgotten we have a teenage son who often brings four other teenage boys to the house, and a daughter who is in and out. Not to mention our 112 pound yellow lab who thinks (let me correct that—who is) part of the family and never wipes his feet (I mean paws) when he comes in, even though the rug at the door clearly says to do so.

Now to be honest the garage is not in that much disarray. Extension cords needed to be put away; tool chests needed to be arranged and cleared off; trash—most certainly left by those teenage boys who are in and out—put away; and recycling boxed up and hauled away, even though our dog relishes in carrying every single bit of it out to the yard as if it were his own special play thing.

Within a couple of hours the garage was neat and clean—not sparkling because I don’t have the epoxyed floor or the nice walls, but clean nonetheless. Of course as we came in this evening I found another one of those cups from a fast food restaurant that I’m sure one of those teenage boys had left again after I had cleaned the garage!! No, wait, that’s right, the teenage boys haven’t been here all day. Oh wait, it was my cup from where we had gotten something to eat earlier this evening. Seems my memory is not what it used to be. Anyway the garage is clean.

Now it's time to let God work on the stuff that's in my heart that needs to be dusted off and cleaned. I am reminded of what the Psalmist writes, “Create in me clean heart, O God.” (Psalm 51:10 KJV)

I think I'm off to a good start!

Sweet Memories

2010-07-05T16:04:00.002-04:00

This weekend our family enjoyed a great meal that has renewed a great deal of sweet memories for me. I fixed peanut butter fudge, chocolate fudge, hot fudge sauce, homemade ice cream, and fresh blackberry pie with blackberries picked from my small patch. My next blog post may need to be on gluttony for sure!

The sweet memories (no pun intended) were focused around the homemade ice cream, hot fudge sauce and blackberry pie. As a child, my family loved homemade ice cream and my dad could make the best I have ever had. I can recall the summers, whether at home or at my grandparents when we enjoyed some of dad’s homemade ice cream. We all helped, my brother, sister and I. At least we all got to sample it and give our opinion as to whether the unfrozen mixture was rich enough. There’s nothing quite like the taste of that mixture.

Then we began the process of freezing the ice cream. I remembered today that we didn’t use bagged ice. We usually froze water in plastic gallon milk jugs. Then we would bust the ice on the concrete or use a hammer. Dad would pour the ice into the mixer and we would watch with great anticipation as the motor churned the mixture into a frozen delight.

My aunt would often make hot fudge sauce and would bring it to our home, especially if she knew ice cream was being made. Funny how something as simple as homemade ice cream could bring families together.

When it was all done the ice cream and the hot fudge sauce was a grand treat. I can’t taste it still and picture those moments in my mind. To say that we ate ‘till we could barely move would be accurate.

We didn’t have blackberry pie, but we always had blackberries from my grandparents. They made the best blackberry jelly. For years I thought it was odd that people would make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with some other kind of jelly.

I can remember picking the blackberries and getting pricked by the thorns, and nearly devoured by the chiggers. But the cost was well worth it once I had a jar of blackberry jelly for my morning toast or biscuits through the years.

I often tell people that memories are a gift from God to remind us of a life lived and a love shared. It’s true. Those sweet memories that linger in my mind are a gift for which I am grateful day after day.

Now, time to get another bowl of homemade ice cream!!!

Pawleys Island 2010

2010-06-12T22:19:00.001-04:00

Our family recently returned from vacation on Pawleys Island in South Carolina. It is a wonderful place that provides us with a sense of rest and relaxation that we so long for during the summer. We have been going there for a number of years and all four of us have grown accustomed to the local scenery and establishments.

Each year we have a tradition that begins with a walk out on the beach before unpacking. Feeling the sand between our toes, hearing the ocean waves crashing upon the shore, watching the birds swoop down, and smelling the sea air all fill our senses with the realization that we are indeed on vacation.

After we unpack it’s off to the Piggly Wiggly to get our weekly groceries, or at least enough for a few days. Stops at the Pawleys Island Hammock Shop, the Pawleys Island Mercantile, the Pawleys Island Golf Shop, the Island Shops, and the Lazy Gator are just a few of the stops we look forward to during our time there.

And each evening we enjoy eating out. We have discovered some great restaurants that we visit each year—the Litchfield Beach Fish House, Nance’s Creekside Restaurant, Sam’s Corner (famous for their hot dogs), and the Sea Captain’s are some of our favorite. We added two more to our list this year—Russell’s Seafood Grill and Raw Bar, and River City Café (great hamburgers).

We also play putt-putt at Tupelo Bay and Mt. Atlanticus. David and I usually get in a round or two of golf and all of us enjoy time spent on the beach looking for shells, getting in the water, and enjoying the time away.

There is always the family picture on the beach that reminds us of what a great time we had. So until we are able to get back, I’ll be satisfied with the memory of the sounds of the ocean waves, the feel of the sand, the smell of the sea air and the taste of great food.

Mother's Day 2010

2010-05-09T22:13:00.004-04:00

As Mother’s Day comes to a close I have the chance to reflect on all its meaning and significance in my life. Today is a work day for me, a minister. As I began this day and led in worship, my mind was attuned to the necessary elements that had to be carried out—roses and bibles for baby dedication, appropriate remarks for mothers, being sensitive for those whose mothers had died and those who want desperately to be mothers. In over twenty years of ministry many Mother’s Days were spent without me seeing my mother, but always calling her.

So this evening I remember my mother. This is now the fifth Mother’s Day since her death. I miss hearing her voice and reassuring words. I miss her smile that always told me I was loved. I miss her hugs. I miss seeing the thrill in her face when her grandchildren visited. I miss trips to O’Charley’s Restaurant after a doctor’s visit. I miss conversations about what was going on in life and her advice and wisdom that she would offer. I miss her stories of times growing up in a coal mining camp. Most of all, I miss having her around.

There are many stories I recall of my mother—stories that reveal grace, humor, joy, and sadness. I have and will continue to share those stories with my family and friends, especially her grandchildren. Though they knew her for only a few short years, through those stories they will truly know the wonderful mother she was.

So on this Mother’s Day I share a part of an essay written by John Killinger. I have used it for several years and no long remember it’s source. I dedicate it to my mother, Dolores Valentine (1929-2005).

I believe in the love of all mothers and its importance in the lives of the children they bear.

It is stronger than steel, softer than down, and more resilient than a green sapling on a hillside.

It closes wounds, melts disappointments, and enables the weakest child to stand tall and straight in the fields of adversity.

I believe that this love, even at its best, is only a shadow of the love of God . . .

And I believe that one of the most beautiful sights in the world is a mother who lets this greater love flow through her to her child,

Blessing the world with the tenderness of her touch and the tears of her joy.

--John Killinger

A Baby Dedication

2009-12-21T21:27:00.000-05:00

I have performed parent/child dedications throughout my twenty plus years of ministry. Usually such events happen on Mother’s Day and occasionally Father’s Day, and sometimes on Sundays closer to a child’s birth. The parent/child dedication I participated in today had quite a unique twist.

First, it wasn’t on Sunday, it was Tuesday. Second, it wasn’t in a church. It took place in a meeting room in a very nice restaurant. Third, a congregation had not gathered. Instead, about a dozen family members came together for this festive event.

But there’s more. Perhaps telling the story more fully will help. When I pastored a church in Prestonsburg my wife and I became close to several families with whom we have kept contact on one level or another throughout the years. This particular family, at the time I served there, had two boys in the youth group. Our families spent time together and enjoyed the friendship that developed.

I received a call from the mother recently that their youngest son had joined the National Guard and his unit was to be deployed following the holidays. She explained that he and his wife had just celebrated the arrival of their first child and wanted to dedicate the baby before he left on his deployment. They wanted me to perform the dedication. Of course, I was honored to be part of this family’s special day and appreciated the opportunity to continue my ministry with them.

We worked out the dates and other arrangements and gathered for the small, informal ceremony that proved to be quite meaningful and worshipful. The baby was adorable, the parents proud, and the grandparents were glowing. As I held this nearly six-month old in my arms and sought God’s blessings and peace on his life I thought of the many ways this baby would need God in the years ahead. As I asked his parents and grandparents to commit to sharing with him the story of God’s love I marveled at the wonderful privilege and responsibility this is.

The ceremony itself was brief. Afterwards we shared a wonderful meal and great conversation, catching up on the time that had passed since we had last met.

I spoke privately with the young man who was soon to be deployed—he hadn’t changed much from the way I remember him as a youth. I inquired as to how he felt for his safety while deployed. He told me that his unit’s assignment was actually among the most dangerous. He is scheduled to be away for one year.

During that time his son will learn to walk, begin to talk, and go on adventures without his dad. And his dad, and his family, will face some daunting challenges—fear, loneliness, discouragement, and the absence of family.

I am grateful for all those who make a sacrifice many of us cannot imagine. Whether we agree with the deployment of troops or not, they certainly deserve our prayers and support as they faithfully serve our country.

Before I left I pledged my prayers for him and his family. And I realized we had done more than dedicate a child. We had helped a family prepare for a husband, father, and son to leave. I hope to hear of his safe return this time next year.

Ordination

2009-12-08T15:39:00.000-05:00

Our church, Lexington Avenue Baptist, recently ordained one of our own to the gospel ministry. She spent her adolescent years growing and learning from the caring ministers and members of this nurturing community of faith. She opened her life and her spirit to voice of God calling her into ministry. And she responded affirmatively and confidently to that call.

She is a God-gifted young person who possesses a compassion for those who are hurting and is able to convey the love of Christ through her ministry and her service. I am grateful that she was willing to hear and respond to God’s call upon her life.

I am also grateful to a church that nurtured that calling in her life. That’s part of the work and the mission of the church—to find ways to help others to hear God’s voice in the midst of their lives. That certainly happens in churches everywhere. It requires sometimes that people like you and me open our hearts and our lives in such a way that we can hear—but it can and does happen.

Ministry is about giving your life in service to God and to others. It can be draining and exhausting at times. There are days as a minister when you realize that the work of ministry is never really finished. There can also be days when you wonder if you have what it takes to be of service to others.

Yet ministry is at the same time very rewarding and fulfilling. It brings meaning and purpose to life. And ministry is a reminder that this, whatever this is, is never about you—it is always about God and what God is doing in and through you and others.

Katie Lay-Anderson is and will be a wonderful minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am honored that we had the chance to be part of what God is doing in and through her. Thanks be to God!

Tenth Anniversary at LABC

2009-11-24T22:00:00.001-05:00

I recently celebrated my tenth anniversary as pastor of the Lexington Avenue Baptist Church. This wonderful church recognized me and my family with special guests from previous churches I have served and with a very generous gift. It may sound like a cliché, but it really is hard to believe it has been ten years.

In that time my children have grown. We came to Danville with a preschooler and an infant. We celebrated our tenth anniversary with a teenager and a pre-teen. All that is to say that I have aged as well. But that’s another matter!!

In those ten years I have grown as a person and as a minister. I would like to say that I am wiser and perhaps in some ways I am. I have certainly learned to do things I had not previously done.

My ten years have been enriched by a wonderful group of folks with whom I minister. Our church staff is tremendous—and I don’t say that lightly. They are a gifted and called group of individuals. Each of them helps me to be a better minister. And each of them helps our church to be a better church.

Ten years can seem like a very long time. It can also be a time that passes very quickly. But more than anything else these ten years have given me a wealth of memories and stories that I will treasure for years to come.

Thanks be to God for those ten years!

Remembering

2009-10-12T22:17:00.001-04:00

Today, October 12th, marks the 27th anniversary of my brother’s death. He was 21 when he died as the result of a car accident. I was 17. That event left me and my family changed in ways we could not immediately see. We continued to live life fully and in time we rediscovered the joy that life brings. David’s life, though short in years, was lived fully and touched the lives of others.

There are those events in life that serve as road markers in this journey. They are not what define us as individuals. Our lives are more the culmination of such markers. Rather, those road markers serve as reference points that help us to better understand who we have become and, perhaps, why we have become who we are. At times, those road markers become the points at which we choose one path over another. At other times those same markers become the points at which a certain path is thrust upon us.

David’s death was all that for me. As I look back over the years I can see the ways in which David’s death and life, and what I learned from that experience, have influenced my life.

I have learned that though we lose loved ones in death, there is much life yet to be lived, and live it we must. I have found great joy and blessings in the continuing journey of life—a wonderful wife, two beautiful children, moments filled with laughter and tears. All of this is a reminder that life is a gift.

There are many road markers in my life’s journey. Each one has had its own unique impact on me. But on this day I pause to remember David’s life and the times we shared together. For that remembrance, I give God thanks.

My Top Five Burgers

2009-09-24T19:39:00.000-04:00

I had lunch today with some friends and in the process decided on my top five burgers. And so, in no particular order my top five burgers.

I begin with Billy Ray’s Playhouse Burger. A Prestonsburg favorite. I had this burger often during my five years in that wonderful town. Billy Ray was a real person—I knew both him and his mother. The playhouse was actually a pool room in an earlier time. Some of the old-timers in town could remember that earlier time. There were pictures of various community figures and locations on the walls. Included were the pictures of the school students killed when a school bus went off the road into a flooded creek during the 50s. The burgers are hand patted and grilled.

Second, burgers from Five Guys Burgers and Fries. I ran onto this place while on a family vacation in Washington, D.C. It has become one of my favorites. They recently opened a restaurant in Lexington near where I live. The fries are deep-fried in peanut oil. Great burgers and a great place.

Third, the Dream Catcher Burger from Stan’s Fish Sandwich. I know what you’re thinking. A great burger in a fish joint? It’s true! I had it just today. It is 100% grass-fed angus beef. Seasoned wonderfully. Topped with Swiss cheese, it makes for a great lunch!!

Fourth, Old Bridge Golf Club Grill Cheeseburger. I could eat this burger every week. Just the thought of it makes my mouth water. May have to go to Old Bridge tomorrow!!

Fifth, Jennifer’s hand-patted angus burgers with special fillings. Don’t know what all the special fillings are but onions are part of it. Throw them on the grill and these are great.

Obviously I like hamburgers. American cheese or swiss cheese is a must. Douse them with ketchup, mayonnaise, and sometimes mustard. Add a large glass of southern-style sweet tea and that’s a perfect lunch.

I think I’ll start dreaming now about tomorrow’s lunch

Fall is Here

2009-09-12T16:06:00.001-04:00

The signs are clear—fall is in the air. Leaves are beginning to fall off some trees. The weather is cooler—at least where I live. Football games fill the weekend. Plans are in the making for fall festivals, trips to the pumpkin patch, and hayrides. Favorite chili recipes are being shared.

I have always liked the fall season. It ranks as one of my favorites. I don’t have anything against the other seasons. Nor do I have any specific reason for choosing the fall as my favorite. Perhaps the memories associated with the fall have something to do with it.

Those memories include homecoming parades, school festivals, cutting and splitting fire-wood, Friday night high school football games. Sweaters and sweat-shirts are taken off the closet shelf and out of summer storage.

The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us that “there is a time for everything.” (Eccl. 3:1 NIV) Perhaps what I like about Fall is that it reminds me to slow down life’s pace; to take time to reflect and to grow. I don’t have any particular plans for this season; a lot of hopes perhaps but no firm plans. A trip to the mountains as the vibrant colors begin to set in would be nice. A Saturday afternoon drive would be nice. A trip to the pumpkin patch would create great memories, even though my kids are getting past the age of enjoying such a trip. A weekend get-away with my wife would be great. But no such plans are set yet. Spontaneity may a good thing this year.

This season won’t last. It will give way to winter and winter to spring. Life will continue its ebb and flow. But for now I will soak in all that this Fall has to offer. I will, as I seek to do each season, enjoy the good times Fall brings and learn from the difficult lessons that may come in this seasons journey. I pray that the good days far outweigh the more difficult days.

Fall is here. I welcome its return like an old friend.

Of Blackberries and Summer

2009-07-11T20:54:00.001-04:00

Let’s be clear from the start. I love blackberries. I know love is an over-used word. But in this case it expresses well my sentiment. At a restaurant, when others ask for grape jelly for their biscuits, I want blackberry jelly. Don’t even offer me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich unless it’s made with blackberry jelly. Peach cobbler is not even in the running with blackberry cobbler. The only thing more American than baseball are blackberries

My love for blackberries goes back to my childhood when I would pick blackberries at my grandparents. Those blackberries were the wild sort, mind you. Meaning they were difficult to get to, had thorns on them, and were infested with chiggers. A day spent picking blackberries usually ended with a bath with Mama’s homemade Lye soap to kill the chiggers, iodine to heal the scratches, and Calamine lotion to ease the itching. In spite of all that there simply was nothing quite like picking those berries. I still recall with fondness my Mama cooking the berries up into a juice and my Papa squeezing the juice out of the berries through a cheese-cloth. The blackberry jelly I would enjoy the rest of the year has yet to be matched. It made breakfast a truly delicious meal.

The blackberries in my back yard today are the tame sort. No thorns, easy to get to, and chiggers do not find me as easily as they once did. But my yellow lab, Casey, loves to pull the berries off, ripe or not, as we pick them. It is quite the challenge to keep him out of the patch.

We don’t grow enough to make blackberry jelly, but we get enough for Jennifer’s fabulous blackberry pie! There is nothing quite like it either. Add some home made ice cream—blackberry pie a la mode--and summer remains one of those special joys in life.

The berries are just now beginning to ripen and my senses are already anxious for the pie soon to come!! Think I’ll go check the blackberry patch now and taste a berry or two. By the way, did I mention that I love blackberries?!

The Burdensome Joy of Preaching

2009-06-23T08:57:00.001-04:00

There’s a phrase that’s been on my mind lately. It’s not original to me. It is from the title of a book by James Earl Massey--The Burdensome Joy of Preaching. (Abingdon Press, 1998) There is obviously a twofold aspect to this wonderful phrase that we preachers are keenly aware of. To say that preaching is a burden is to acknowledge the way in which preparing and delivering a specific sermon for a specific group of people with so many unique needs weighs upon the preacher each week.

Preaching is a joy, though, because of its divine purpose. We preachers sense deeply a calling by God to proclaim God’s love to others through the preaching event. It is a joy as well because, though we don’t always see, we know the redemptive effects that preaching has in and through the lives of individuals and congregations. That effect is not the result of the preacher but rather the result of God’s Holy Spirit working through the entirety of the preaching event and touching both the proclaimer and the listener.

I saw the reality of this phrase in its fullness at the preaching camp for the Academy for Preachers. Young preachers were preaching 4 sermons over a period of 5 days. That doesn’t sound like much. But consider the message that is being proclaimed, the work needed to be prepared, and the challenge of delivering both the Word and words and one can quickly see that their task could be an exhausting one.

Massey quotes Gardner C. Taylor as saying that preacher’s experience is “the sweet torture of Sunday morning.” After 20 plus years of preaching experience I can attest that preaching is indeed a burdensome joy. But would I do anything other than preach? There are times I have considered it. But the divine pull keeps me hooked. I have learned to live in and with that tension—the sweet torture of Sunday morning that is the burdensome joy of preaching.

A Preaching Coach

2009-06-01T21:02:00.002-04:00

This week I am a preaching coach. I have helped to coach soccer and baseball—meaning that I watched the kids on the sidelines, picked up the bats and kept up with the batting rotation. Being a preaching coach is a bit different. The Academy of Preachers is holding its first preaching camp at a wonderful Christian retreat center in southern Indiana. There are twelve young preachers, women and men, ranging in age from about 16-28. Some have never attended a seminary. Some have recently graduated from divinity school.

They come from a myriad of denominations—Catholic, Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, Nazarene, and non-denominational. They have all gathered with a common purpose—to improve their preaching skills. During their time here they will be preaching a 6-8 minute sermon each day.

My job as coach is to review those sermons on video with four of the young preachers assigned to me. I am also to offer assistance as they prepare for the next day’s sermon. I am learning to pull from my years of pastoral experience and my coach training to help these young preachers in the short time we are together. I am encouraged by their enthusiasm for communicating the Good News of the Gospel to our world. They desire to be relevant and they yearn to make a difference in the lives of individuals and churches. Already I have heard some very good sermons and I’m sure I can look forward to hearing more in the days ahead. I am amazed at the energy these young people have for a vocation that is no longer given the respect that it once knew and does not find itself in the top lists of ways to make a living. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised because God has always worked in ways that leave us amazed.

Now that I think about it coaching young preachers is not that different from coaching a T-ball team. They both dream of hitting a home run—one with a bat the other with words; they both feel a bit of uncertainty as they step up to the plate; and, they both wouldn’t choose to do or be anything else because they simply love it. Seeing all that adds a certain sense of reward to my job as a coach.

I know that I won’t be a preacher forever. I have been preaching for over twenty years now. I look forward to many years of preaching yet. But one day, though I will continue to share God’s love with others, I may not be doing so from a pulpit. It’s good to know that these young people sense God’s call to step in and continue the preaching ministry that has communicated God’s love to countless numbers of people throughout the ages.

The Parenting Journey

2009-05-06T22:45:00.001-04:00

My role as a parent changes constantly. We assume that will be the case when our children are born. But I’m not sure the concept sinks in until those changes are upon us and we become cognizant of them. So we travel along this parenting journey not always seeing what lies just around the bend ahead, not always noticing that little dip in the road, and not prepared to avoid the hole in the road before us. We are travelers nonetheless and we enjoy this parenting journey, even on the difficult days. Along the journey change most certainly comes and typically requires something of us as parents. Sometimes that change is obvious and requires significant adjustments on our part. At other times that change is subtle and not so demanding.

This week I experienced some of the subtle changes of this parenting journey. I decided to give my son some of the responsibility for mowing our yard. A simple change so it seems. But to me, yielding to our thirteen-year-old the control of my Cub Cadet, with the capacity to run over and shred the small trees and blackberries in our yard, was a change I had missed on the horizon of my parenting journey. His mother encouraged the opportunity. Mother’s always have a hand in this father/son plot and tug-of-war that I have yet to fully comprehend and appreciate.

Since I was pressed for time and the yard needed to be mowed and trimmed before the rains came, I surrendered the driver’s seat. I made a few rounds to mark out the boundaries. Our thirteen-year-old, who it seems only yesterday wasn’t heavy enough to hold the seat down so the tractor didn’t automatically shut off, assumed the controls. After learning what buttons did what and which pedal was forward and which was backward, off he was. He insisted, thank God, that I walk along beside him at first. I patiently—thank God for patience—gave directions. After it appeared he had this mowing thing down, I preceded to my task of trimming.

With an ever watchful eye—knowing his mother would want to know that I was keeping a close watch on her baby boy taking on such a dangerous task and anticipating that I might happen to witness the shredding of my blackberry vines—I kept vigil.

It was difficult not to point out that some of the corners were turned to close and as a result some of the grass was not cut. Obviously a more experienced hand—his father’s specifically—would not have made such a miscue. I gently pointed it out and suggested how he could avoid it. When I finished trimming I fought the urge to say, “Let me finish.” “It will be quicker if I do it,” was my reasoning. But I knew his mother was watching and deep down I knew he had to learn somehow. So I watched and pointed with my walking stick. I had to have control on some level, right?!!

At one point he came to me and said, “Hey, Dad!! I think I just ran over the little pine tree!!” The very pine tree I had trimmed around, pointed out to him, and even put a large stake beside so he could see it. “Yeah, Dad, that pine tree.” I took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to make it anyway. In case you’re wondering, the pine tree survived.

Father and son finally finished the task he needed to learn and the change I needed to navigate. He parked the tractor and shut it off and we walked inside.

I don’t remember how old I was when my dad taught me how to mow the yard. I do remember that there were paths of grass that I missed, small trees I cut down, and times I failed to put the oil plug back in after checking the oil. I remember the time I backed the lawn mower over my grandfathers fence and the time I got in stuck in a ditch, the very ditch my dad had pointed out to me, the very ditch he had told me not to get too close to—that ditch. I remember that it was my mom who came to the rescue that time.

All this reminds me, that for ages, parents have been successfully navigating the changing currents of this parenting journey. There will be more changes; some subtle and some not so subtle. That change is a sign of growth both for son and for dad. Thanks be to God!

Tommy

The Journey

2009-03-24T21:19:00.000-04:00

It was on March 25th, 1989, Easter Sunday, that my journey began. On that day that I began serving as a pastor. Twenty years and three churches later that journey continues. I remember some very special days through those twenty years. I recall first Sundays in each of the three churches and the last Sundays in two of them along with countless other special memories simply too numerous to mention. While it’s impossible to write of each of those experiences, some come to mind worth sharing.

During my 5 and ½ years in my first pastorate, Mill Creek in Bardstown, Ky, I recall an Easter Sunday when we baptized seven people. Then there was the 200th Anniversary celebration when a pastor who was there during the 1930’s came back for the special occasion. At First Baptist (Irene Cole Memorial) in Prestonsburg, Ky, where I served for 5 years, I remember the morning a call came from the preschool—a rat was in the toilet (they didn’t teach me about this in seminary!) There was also a surprise birthday party given for me by the church one Sunday evening and some fabulous summer fellowships in the shady parking lot (the fried cod fish was out of this world!) Prestonsburg was our home when both our children were born and dedicated.

The journey continued to Lexington Avenue Baptist in Danville, Ky. That Sunday morning when I preached a trial sermon was one to remember—our three year old son was sick with a high fever and our six month old daughter woke up in the hotel room before 5:00 a.m. At that point there was no question but that all was in God’s hands not mine. I remember the Sunday mornings my children made their professions of faith and were later baptized. With fondness and grateful appreciation I remember the way the church family embraced me following the deaths of each of my parents.

What comes to mind more than anything else through this twenty year journey is not a specific day or event, but specific people. I remember by name people who have made this journey of ministry meaningful and fulfilling; who have been patient with me and have helped me to grow; those who have taken the time to nurture me and pray with me. There names are etched on my heart--Hughley and Inath, Woodrow and Narcie, Mike and Rebecca, Connie and John, Randy and Carolyn. They, and others like them, have enriched this journey in ways that I will not soon forget. Even as I write their names my mind is flooded with memories.

I’m not sure I could have imagined, much less guessed, where this journey would lead that Easter Sunday twenty years ago. The journey has not always been easy—but then again, that’s part of the nature of the journey, isn’t it? But what the journey has been is blessed by the presence of God each day. Sometimes I knew it keenly, other days I seemed to be barely aware. But in reflection, God’s presence was indeed there every day of those twenty years. I wonder . . . is that what Abram felt when God told him to leave the land of his fathers and go to a new land, a land God would show him. I don’t know. But I do know the journey continues and only God knows what lies yet before me.

Tommy

She's Ten Years Old

2009-02-23T14:15:00.001-05:00

On Wednesday, February 25th, our daughter, Kate, will turn 10. She has informed her mother and me that being in the “double digits” is a big deal. We have no reason to doubt her nor a desire to calm her enthusiasm. Being 10 is indeed a big deal. I am within 6 months of having been in my current pastorate for 10 years. Ten years is a decade. I have lived four decades plus. My wife and I have been married two decades plus (obviously my wife was very young when we married).

So our daughter, our baby girl is 10. I recall the day we dedicated her in our church in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. I have a picture of her being held by the girl for whom we named our daughter. I treasure that picture as I do hundreds of others we have taken through the years. The picture above was taken the day she was baptized; a birthday of another sort if you will.

I have a picture on my desk, and in my mind as well, of her older brother holding her for the first time in the hospital room. Then there’s the picture that I will treasure of her waving as she is riding the old red tractor with her Papa. She was afraid of the tractor until that day when she agreed to ride with Papa.

There are many more pictures etched in my memory in, what has been for me, ten short years. There are lessons as well that I have learned in these years. I can’t fix her hair quite like her mother can, though I can put it in a pretty neat ponytail. I can’t fix poached eggs like her Papa did or play checkers using Mama’s rules. But I can tickle her nearly as good as I could when she was an infant and I still get a chuckle from the whole affair.
I have learned that little girls look at themselves in mirrors differently than dads look at themselves in the mirrors.

This weekend we will celebrate with a girls night at the movies—popcorn, red carpet, sodas, and friends. It will be a special evening. I suspect my major role will be to hold the door, fix the popcorn, keep big brother out of the way and generally do whatever else I may be asked. But that will be OK. I’ll be with her and will remember wonderful times throughout those ten years.

Then in a quiet moment of my own, I will thank God for the gift I call Kate.

She is ten years old and has a lifetime yet to look forward to.

Tommy

He's a Teenager

2009-01-19T11:21:00.005-05:00

On January 18th our son, David, turned 13. It was a milestone marked by a party with friends while two anxious parents patiently bided our time upstairs. To our credit, I think, we interrupted only once to remind 8 teenage boys that sometimes parents really do still know best.

It was marked the next day by a gathering with family—grandparents, aunt, and cousins. And, of course, more gifts. The celebration continued the next morning as Mom and Dad and sister gave gifts on the birthday morning.

I want to say that as parent I survived the weekend. But looking back it wasn’t’ all that bad. There is a sense that reaching 13 is rite of passage. At 13 you no longer qualify for the kids menu at restaurants or discounts at amusement parks. You are considered a teenager, not a child. Though for me sometimes it’s still hard to make that distinction. Ah, but the reality is sinking in—I am the father of a teenager. The challenges ahead for both my teenager and his parents seem staggering at times. But with grace, patience, understanding, and perhaps time I feel confident we will successfully navigate these teenage waters.

13 years seems like a long time on one hand. But on the other hand it seems it was only yesterday. My mind has been flooded with memories of that day thirteen years ago when David was born—seeing him for the first time, feeling his face against mine, holding him gently against my chest, walking into our home for the first time with our new bundle of joy.

I have developed a new mantra for my role as father. Being a parent is a both a gift and a grand adventure and I am intent on experiencing that adventure to its fullest. So far that adventure has been all I hoped it would be and more.

Tommy

Casey

2008-10-13T22:04:00.008-04:00

My son and I were behind a car today that had two yellow lab puppies in the back. They watched us curiously at the stop light, then played and wrestled together as we made our way on our journey. It reminded us both of when our own 4 year old yellow lab, Casey, was just a puppy. The adventures he had as a puppy and still has have made for some memorable tales. I could fill the pages of a small book with those adventures. My wife had quite the persuasive argument for why we needed a dog, and not just any dog, but a yellow lab specifically. She told me, “Families with dogs are happier families.” I wanted us to be a happy family, and being a happier family sounded even better. At the time I needed all the happiness we could muster.

Casey is not our first dog. My wife and I grew up with dogs in our homes. A few months into our marriage, we bought a cocker spaniel, Buttons, who was with us for fifteen years. So being a family without a dog was a new experience. We needed a dog. We wanted a dog. We are dog people. I wish the book "Marley and Me" had come out before we got our yellow lab to prepare me for the adventures of owning a lab. But alas . . .

Tonight, our yellow lab, as he often does, wandered into our closet and brought me one of my shoes, a sure sign that someone left the bedroom door open. I scolded Casey gently and he gave me the shoe. A few minutes passed and he came with the other matching shoe which he dropped at my chair. Dogs may be colorblind but Casey is quite capable of matching shoes. If you come to our home you may wonder why all the doors to all the rooms in our home are closed. Our children are so accustomed to closing the doors to keep Casey out of their things that even when they are at someone else’s home they close the doors on the rooms as they leave them. If only I could teach them to pick up after themselves as easily!!

My wife is right of course, we are a happier family. It’s hard to imagine life without our 113 pound yellow lab who insists on walking right beside you, even when you have your Sunday dress clothes on, and whose tail wags indiscriminately throughout a room reminding my wife and me that though are children are older, we still have to keep fragile items up on a higher shelf. I have thought that perhaps we misnamed our yellow lab. "Moose" seems a more fitting name at times.

Casey has added, as have all our dogs, companionship, loyalty, and unconditional and unmerited love for all four of us. God has given us a gift and for that gift we call Casey, I am thankful.

Tommy

Summer Joy

2008-07-25T21:48:00.006-04:00

Summer is filled with joys beyond number. No matter who you are there seems to be something that fits the niche for everyone. Unless of course your niche involves snow and ice. With that said, summer really does possess a certain seasoning that enhances the routine of life.

Though I am not much for the pool scene, there is something to be said for spending a day at the pool with friends and basking in the sun and the water. I do enjoy spending time working in my yard though right now it seems that means I am picking up more rocks and weeds than anything else. I enjoy spending the hour on my riding mower giving my yard a nicely manicured look, though the dust and the pollen does seem to awaken my allergies.

Washing the car is always a great summer time activity. Though it seems cleaning my car was an activity I enjoyed more when I was a teenager. Well, there are always summer vacations to our favorite destinations. But this year, our vacation will happen not in the summer but during fall break.

It does appear my summer joy has experienced a bit of a slump. But not to give up, there are two activities that have revived my summer joy. The first was buying a homemade ice cream maker, getting out the old family recipe and whipping together a batch of homemade ice cream. There's nothing like it in the world!! The rich cream, the vanilla, the cold as it rushes down my throat! I'm ready to get another batch going right now.

The other activity was picking blackberries. I have labored and loved this tiny patch in my backyard for a few years now and this spring the rain was just right and the berries came on in great fashion. I relished walking down to the patch each evening to pick a small bucket of berries which my wife will use to make the best blackberry pie in the world! Top it all off with some homemade ice cream and I doubt that the summer could get any better.

Both those activities flood my mind with days past of helping my parents make ice cream and picking blackberries at my grandparents. Those memories are a gift from God for which I am very grateful. Those memories have indeed enriched my summer joy!

Blessings,
Tommy

Getting Away

2008-04-05T19:02:00.003-04:00

Jennifer and I took a much needed break. We traveled to Virginia to tour some historic sites. We celebrated her birthday and our 20th Anniversary, though our anniversary isn’t until June. But mostly we just relaxed and enjoyed the time away.

As often happens when we get away, we talked a lot about our kids, David and Kate who were staying with their grandparents. We called them each day, or they called us. Sometimes they called several times. They wanted to know what we were doing and especially wanted to know when we were coming home. Though we enjoy our time away together, we miss our kids just as they miss us. Being away from work and the demands of home, and at the same time being renewed in our relationship are all things we have tried to do throughout our years of marriage.

I’ve discovered in our times away that I come home refreshed and renewed. I also come home with a new understanding or perspective about myself. We all need to get away. Jesus got away. The gospels tell us that on a few occasions he went away by himself—to pray, to reflect, to gain perspective. If Jesus took the time to get away, and Jesus is our model for living well, then it stands to reason we should learn from him and take the time to get away as well.

I hope you take the time to get away to be renewed in your life, your relationships and your walk with God.

Blessings,
Tommy

Holy Week

2008-03-15T21:47:00.001-04:00

Holy Week begins tomorrow. Every year it seems to creep up on us and we seem to face it a little unprepared. The least we could say is we long to experience it fully but aren’t quite sure how to approach it. That’s the case for me this year. Since Easter Sunday is earlier than usual, my spiritual clock doesn’t quite seem to be on cue. So what will we, what will I do with Holy Week?

I’ll begin by being more decidedly a participant in worship on Sunday rather than a worship leader as is usually the case. As a participant in worship I plan to be more in touch and in tune with what God is doing in my life during that hour. Being out of my usual spot on Sunday always awakens my senses to the presence and the voice of God in my life. I hope that the senses of worship will ignite a flame that continues to burn through this very special week. I am reminded of the words of John who spoke of Jesus as “ the light of the world.”

Perhaps my senses will also be more acutely aware of the new life bursting forth in creation. I want to notice the buds on the trees, the lilies bursting forth from the ground. I saw a bright red cardinal on our deck this afternoon. Yes, I’m excited about the prospects of spring—not only in creation but in my spiritual life as well.

It will be my hope as well through this Holy Week that I will take in all that Jesus experienced that last week. To reflect upon the triumphal entry, the meal with his disciples in the upper room, the prayer in the garden, the betrayal by a friend, the trial before Pilate, the walk to Golgotha, the crucifixion, and the silence of Saturday all serve to enhance the experience of Easter. It’s easy to give in to the temptation to get to the joy of Easter and certainly we want to be there. But there is a deeper experience God has for us if we take the time to journey through all that happens in the life of Christ that week.

All in all, I look forward to this week and the hope, peace, and renewal it brings to my life. And, having taken the journey through Holy Week, Easter will dawn with new hope and new life.

That’s the reflection from my corner.
Tommy

Happy Birthday!!

2008-01-18T10:19:00.000-05:00

Our son, David, turns 12 today. Twelve. It doesn’t matter how I spell it, it seems hardly possible. He’s nearly as tall as me and almost wears the same size shoe. I believe he may just turn out to be taller than his mother and I.

Twelve. I remember being twelve. I remember the friends I had and the things we did at school. I remember dreaming about what my life would be like and adding bits and pieces to that dream over time. I remember not worrying about things. I don’t remember Playstations, Nintendos, Ipods, flat screen TVs, satellite TV or cable. I do remember a big snow and sunny days.

Twelve! It’s only one year from being a teenager, four years until a driver’s license, six years until graduation. Twelve! It sounds different than one or five or even ten.

I wander what my father thought when I turned twelve. If he were still living, I would ask him what advice he could give to the father of a twelve year old. And maybe one day my son will seek me out for the same advice.

Maybe twelve is about dreams—my dreams for my son, his dreams for himself, and God’s dream for both of us. In that perspective, twelve sounds pretty good!

So, on this special day in my son’s life, and his parents life as well, I’ll remember that day twelve years ago when I got to see him and hold him for the first time. I’ll recall the many special memories we have made together as a family and the joy he has added to my life. I’ll give thanks to God for the gift he is and I’ll say a prayer that he will become the person God created him to be.

One thing is for sure. I never grow tired of being his Dad, and I never grow tired of hearing him call me Dad!

Happy 12th Birthday, David!

Love,
Dad

2007-12-29T18:03:00.001-05:00

New Year's Hopes

I’ve never been one to make New Year’s Resolutions—those verbal or written commitments that give some sense of power to that which seems most on our mind at the end of the year. Whether it is a resolution to lose weight, spend more time with family, take better care of ourselves, spend time in prayer, or to take time off each week they seem to be well intentioned without having much else behind them.

It seems so easy to verbally acknowledge something we want to do rather than to follow through. That may be the challenge—following through with what we said we would do. “Follow-through” is after all the difference many times whether in resolutions or one’s golf swing. The “follow-through” is significant.

So in New Year’s resolutions we find ourselves perfecting the “follow-through.” I prefer to make a list of “hopes” for the coming year--my list of things or activities I hope to accomplish. Perhaps that let’s me off the hook if my “follow-through” isn’t what it needs to be. With that said, and that being my qualifier or dis-qualifier, let me share a list of my “hopes” for 2008.

I hope to take better care of myself. Taking days off, exercising, and eating better are some of the elements that come into play here. I enjoy exercise, especially after it’s done—perhaps this year I can be more committed to getting to the exercise. Taking days off, in my profession, is sometimes easier said than done but not the less important. I hope to put my new golf clubs—a Christmas gift—to use on those days off. The golf lesson—another Christmas gift—may help me to make those occasional golf games more enjoyable. I will not bother with talking about eating—I enjoy it too much!

My second hope is to spend more time writing. This blog is one step in that direction. Notice I didn’t say how much more time I want to spend writing—just more. It shouldn’t be hard to mark this one off as being successful at the end of 2008.

Another hope, I don’t want to say final hope, is to relax more. Relax really takes on several meanings. On one hand, to use the terminology of my children who seem to have a hipper vocabulary than their dad, by relax I mean “chill out”—don’t take life so seriously. It seems in my ministry I am always dealing with the serious. It is helpful to find time to “chill out.”

On the other hand, relax means to observe the “Sabbath.” Not simply going to church on Sunday but “Sabbath” as in “on the 7th day God rested.” So rest.

All in all, not too bad a list of hopes. How will it all turn out? I suspect some days good and some days bad. Maybe it is, after all, in the “follow-through.”

Happy New Years!!
Tommy

Learning to Laugh

2007-12-07T20:42:00.000-05:00

This week I was e-mailed some funny Christmas websites. This one in particular involved pasting a face, yours and/or your family members on the animated body of one of Santa's elves. The images then proceeded to dance to a Christmas tune. It was quite the thing to see.

So I gave it a try. I found pictures of all my family, pasted our faces on the elves and sent it on to family and friends. My kids and my wife thought it was hilarious. I can't keep from laughing each time I see it.

It's good to laugh--at ourselves, at life, at the humorous circumstances all around us. Too often as adults we become too serious to take the time to laugh. When my children were infants and we placed them in one of those wonderful bouncy seats, they would belly laugh as our cocker spaniel ran in front of them. I'll never forget those laughs and the joy that they brought to me.

In the same way, I realize that laughter really does make me feel better about life and about myself. So in the midst of what is for me a very busy season in the life of the church, I pledge to find the occassion and the opportunity to laugh and allow my life and myself to be enriched by it.

That's the corner reflection.
Tommy