What's For Dinner

That’s not a question, it’s a statement, and tonight it was Mozzarella Chicken Pinwheels stuffed with roasted garlic. But before we get to that, let me tell you a little bit about why I’m doing this in three parts. Part 1: When I was growing up my mother did a lot of cooking. I can remember almost every meal being “home cooked.” Going out to eat was usually reserved for Friday night or special occasions. My mom and I were always close and that meant I hung around the kitchen while she cooked. I wish I had paid more attention to learning how to cook, but mostly I just enjoyed talking to her and smelling all of the delicious foods she prepared for us. My mom has always been a great cook and what has always impressed me was her ability/willingness to whip up a “from scratch” meal at the drop of a hat. I have grown to learn that few things are as satisfying as preparing a meal for someone and watching them enjoy it. My two favorite things that she makes: spaghetti (homemade sauce with a secret ingredient that I know) and chocolate oatmeal cookies. But I digress. The point of my ramblings is that being in the kitchen has always had a nostalgic feeling for me. For me the feeling I get in the kitchen is what home is supposed to feel like. Everything I know about cooking (which is very little) I learned on my own by just experimenting, reading and watching cooking shows. I love going into the kitchen, filling the counter with fresh ingredients, putting on some music and creating something that looks, smells and tastes fantastic and leaves you feeling fantastic when you are finished. My favorite part, hands down, is using a knife. Cutting, slicing, dicing, chopping, I love it all (although I am admittedly very slow). It has actually become a hobby for me, which works out well since eating food is also a hobby of mine. This brings me to the second part. Part 2: A few weeks ago I was in New Orleans with friends who are locals, and as is our tradition, visited several of their favorite restaurants. If you are a food lover, New Orleans is nirvana. They took us to a pizza place on St. Charles called Slice. This isn’t Pizza Hut/Papa John’s/Domino’s chain packaged pizza. Slice is fresh, local ingredients and unique combinations. I had a slice with bacon, fresh basil and roasted garlic cloves. Let me tell you, it was as good as I’ve ever eaten. I never realized how much of a difference roasted garlic could make. I love garlic to begin with, but roasted garlic. Out of this world! I made up my mind that night I was going to make roasted garlic a priority in my menus when I got back home. And that brings me to tonight and part 3. Part 3: I started out 2012 with the intention of writing a blog post every day. I was successful in this goal for quite awhile, but then I got busy, very busy and haven’t written in months. Things have started to slow back down to a reasonable pace in the past few weeks and look to be for awhile, so I decided to start back while I can. When I’m home and have time I love to cook, read and write. I don’t really have a lot to say right now, so I decided to write about food. No promises, but I hope to turn this into a food blog (at least temporarily). I hope you can enjoy reading, be inspired by the food and gather your family into the kitchen to try it our yourself. Here is the walk through on tonight’s menu: Chop the tops off of four heads of garlic (you can even leave the skin on), place in a baking dish, thoroughly coat with olive oil and cover with aluminum foil. Bake at 375 degrees for about 30 to 40 minutes. Use a fork or knife to remove the cloves from skin (they should be soft) and set aside. Take 4 to 6 thin sliced chicken breasts and place several cloves of garlic on each. Then sprinkle each with rosemary and mozzarella cheese. Roll up the chicken and drizzle with the (now garlic infused) olive oil from the pan. Sprinkle with basil and oregano and bake in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes at 375 degrees (or until done). Cover with tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese and return to oven until cheese is melted. Add a softened stick of butter, cut into pieces, to the remaining garlic cloves. Use a mixer, or by hand, and mash/mix the butter and roasted garlic until it makes a spread. Spread on your choice of bread and bake until butter is melted. Serve along with the chicken. The roasted garlic is what will really make this dish. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did!

Si, Senior

I haven’t updated the blog in a long time, but to be frank, I have just been too busy. My intention is to do quite a bit of blogging about our experiences in Central America this Summer, but it will have to wait just a little bit longer. With that being said, this is what is on my hear most today. Nineteen years ago Sunday, I met his mother. Although I had a girlfriend at the time, the moment I saw her, I didn’t want to be apart from her ever again. That night we watched the Perseid meteor shower (you can watch it this weekend). By the time school started the next week, I had fallen in love. A year and a half later we would be married. Less than two years later he was born. The moment the nurse handed him to me I fell in love again. For years I had been loved and loved others, but when I held him it was as if God unlocked a room in my heart that I never even knew existed. It was the room that he and later his baby brother would occupy. It is a love unlike any other I have experienced. It is the love of a father for his sons. I learned more about my Father’s love for me in that moment than I had in a lifetime of sermons. That moment seemed to last forever, as if time itself stopped to give me a chance to soak up every drop of love that flowed from that little eight pound squirming baby boy. When he cried, I wept and that hasn’t changed in seventeen years. Although that moment seemed to last forever, the next five years didn’t. If anything they seemed to be on fast forward. Before I could blink he was crawling, then walking, then speaking (and boy did he speak). Then came the day when we had our first milestone in his life: the first day of school. We drove over to my grandparents house on Elm Street, which is one block from Pulaski Elementary School. We parked the car, put on his backpack (or his “pack pack” as his baby brother said it), and I held his hand and walked him to school. That day he took his first real step toward independence and in the years since he has eclipsed those steps as if he were running. Today he took a giant leap toward independence. The last seven years we have been homeschooling, but this year we decided to make a return to traditional schooling. Our boys are attending Georgia Christian School. It is a private Christian School close to our house. Because of that, we are back on the normal school day schedule. One of the things that appealed to us about this school is that because the size is smaller, it has a family atmosphere. This morning his class had a breakfast at one of the students homes, and then they all rode together in a giant (think mini monster truck) pickup to the school where the entire school (students, parents, faculty) was waiting to welcome them and then enter together for chapel. My baby boy, my little kindergardener, is now a senior. He is literally at the same stage in his life that I was when I met his mother. Physically he is a man, and mentally, emotionally, spiritually he is getting there quickly. Just like I did twelve years ago, this morning I walked him to school. The first day, of his last year of school. No I didn’t hold his hand, we fist bumped, but I did carry him in my heart.

Lessons Learned In The Banana Republics

Ok, so I'm still a loooooong way from being acclimated to life in Central America, but it doesn't take long to learn some valuable lessons in Costa Rica. Here are some of the things I've learned already. 1. Drinkable water better be your numero uno priority or you will regret it. 2. My Spanish is so much worse than I ever could have imagined. Humbled quickly. 3. If you get on the roads in any capacity (walking, bikes, cars, buses), you better be ready to meet Jesus because there is a good chance you will....soon. 4. People are so, so, so much more willing to talk about the Bible with you (no one has said no to a study yet; some have said later, but none have said no). Reread that last sentence: Not. One. Single. House. Has. Said. No. To. A. Bible. Study! (We have been on one 200 yard long street for two days and have yet to get all the way down the street). 5. Life here is not as bad/scary/strange/hard as you probably imagine (they are actually quite accomadative to Americans who don't speak Spanish and haven't exchanged their money). 6. Speaking of the money, this stuff is crazy, it's like Monoply money and Chuck E. Cheese tokens and I still have no idea how much I am paying for things (I just smile pathetically and hand them a wad of bills and hope they don't take advantage of me; one guy actually called me back after realizing he didn't give me enough change). 7. It's beautiful here: tropical flowers, coconut trees, and four active volcanoes towering above the city (yes, you just read the words active and volcano). 8. This team is so much fun to be around; I am loving the teens who are here with us and the adults I've had time to spend with are wonderful. 9. My translator (Caesar Tabora) is as good as they come, the guy is go, go, go all the time, let's knock another door, let's have another study and when he preaches it is with so much zeal and he uses his whole body. 10. Kids are kids, no matter where they are and what the language and if you can't look into the eyes of a child and see God you are just blind (check out the video of us playing with the kids and see what I'm talking about). 11. I am having the time of my life and it is everything I hoped it would be. My only regret is that I wanted so long in my life to start doing this.

Far Side Of The World

Day 201 (Written Saturday June 30) ~ Songs I Cannot Sing: Far Side Of The World As much as I love Jimmy Buffett songs, this is the only one to make the list of songs I cannot sing. Actually, I only learned that I cannot sing this song last week, during a trip home from South Carolina through rural Georgia by myself. As I drove through places like Vidalia, Augusta and Lakeland, I began singing along with this song and quickly realized it is one of the most autobiographical songs on my list. Ten years ago when this song was released it didn’t meant that much to me, but this morning as I get ready to leave the house and begin the trip, I contemplate the lyrics and they fit into the center of my heart like a long missing puzzle piece. “...I’m halfway round the planet, in a most unlikely place. Following my song line past bamboo shacks and shops, behind a jitney packed like sardines, with bananas piled on top. I ran away from politics, it’s too bizarre at home....awakened by a stewardess with Spain somewhere below, on the threshold of adventure, God I do love this job so! So while I make my move on the big board game, up and down a Spanish highway some things remain the same. Girls meet boys and boys tease girls. I’m heading out this morning for the far side of the world. Oh I believe in song lines, obvious and not, I’ve ridden them like camels to some most peculiar spots. They run across the oceans through mountains and saloons, and tonight out to the desert where I sit atop this dune. I was destined for this vantage point which is so far from the sea, I’ve lived it in the pages of Saint-Exupery. From Paris to Tunisia, Casablanca to Dakar. I was riding long before I flew through the wind and sand and stars. Time to sing, time to dance, living out my second chance, sleeping bags and battle flags are coiled and furled. That’s the way you travel to the far side of the world. Back at home it’s afternoon six thousand miles away, it will still be there when I get through attending this soiree. There are jobs and chores and questions, and plates I need to twirl, but tonight I’ll take my chances on the far side of the world.” Some of you will think this is weird, but some of you will get it and it will pluck your heartstrings, and maybe, just maybe, it will prompt you to find your own song line and begin to follow it. I hope you will, it’s an amazing ride.

I've Got A Golden Ticket

Day 200 (Written Friday June 29) ~ I’ve Got A Golden Ticket You know that moment on a roller coaster where you reach the pinnacle, just before you go over the high point and begin the rapid, exhilarating, breathtaking and terrifying decent? That moment which gradually and ever so painstakingly, slowly builds, tension mounting. We are currently living in that moment. Strapped in, no turning back, ready or not here it comes moment. I’ve been waiting on this moment my entire life. I know for some these words may seem overly dramatic, but I consider myself fortunate to recognize that I am on the precipice of a life long dream. If you want to know more about what I mean, read some of my previous posts about what I wanted to be/do when I grew up. It is a bizarre feeling. We spend so much of our lives hoping, wishing, dreaming for something, someday in the future, although much of it never comes to pass, and that which does, often catches us by surprise and is already passed before we realize it. I have seen this coming and I have been waiting for this moment to come for almost 25 years, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m scared of all the flights in the various countries. I’m scared of the bus rides through the mountains from one country to another. I’m scared of what we might encounter. I’m scared of what comes next. What do you do when you do what you’ve always wanted to do? More than scared, I am humbled and thankful. My favorite Bible verse is Psalm 37:4, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I know this to be true. I have seen this and I am living this. I am terribly flawed, I am a sinner, but I have for a long time now, tried to please God and do what He wants me to do. I know that He knows the deepest desires, hopes and dreams in my heart and I know that He has given me the desires of my heart. He has allowed me to experience so many of my dreams and this is just the latest and biggest one yet. I am humbled. I am thankful. I am blessed. I am loved. I am just getting started. As I get ready to try and go to sleep, I am reminded of the words of Willy Wonka to Charlie at the end of the movie, “Don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he’d ever wished for. He lived happily ever after.”

Rebel Without A Cause

Day 186 (Written Friday June 15) ~ It dawned on me today that I am a rebel. I am an outcast, a freak, a weirdo, a non-conformist. I’m sure you are scratching your head at the thought of a middle age, preacher, husband and father being a rebel, but its true. Here’s why: I am a people watcher. Malls, ball games, amusement parks, hospitals, airports, wherever there are a large number of people I’ll be watching. In all of this people watching, here is what I’ve seen. Most people have some combination of tattoos, excess or non-traditional piercings, wild hair cuts or colors and outrageous clothing. I have none of these things. I wear normal boring clothes, my haircut is nothing unusual, I have no tattoos and despite my attempts at age thirteen, I never gotten a piercing. There was a time when people did these things in an attempt to be anti-social and to rebel against conformity, yet the paradox of today is that doing these things is very much a demonstration of conformity. I’m not criticizing, hating or judging anyone for these things, merely observing. To me, when you do these things you look just like most everyone else. When rebellion becomes trendy, conformity becomes rebellion. If Alice Cooper, Ozzy Osbourne or Kiss were to come out today instead of in the 70’s, no one would notice them. There would be nothing shocking about them at all. You could find a dozen 12 year olds that look just like them hanging out at the Hot Topic in the mall. Bottom line, anarchy has gone mainstream leaving traditional to be the new rebel. I guess that makes me, the church boy, a bad boy.

Gravity Storm

Day 185 (Written Thursday June 14) ~ Ok, so it finally happened. Jimmy Buffett calls them gravity storms. Those days when life pulls you down to the ground and pins you down. Usually you just have to ride them out. I knew it was coming, I’ve been expecting it for awhile and it finally came today. I miss home. We moved to South Georgia the first of May and we spent three weeks in our new life and loved it. We talked everyday about how great it is. We knew we had to go back to Pulaski for two weeks because of preaching appointments, but truthfully, we dreaded it and didn’t want to go. We loved it here in Georgia so much that we didn’t want to go back to Tennessee. It hadn’t been long enough for us to miss it and want to go home, but we had to. Now, after two weeks back home, today we returned to South Georgia and I was ready to get back to our new home, but I really dreaded leaving Pulaski. The day before we left I started to get this really strong sense of dread and sadness. Once we got the van fully loaded (Clampett style once again), and got ready to leave my parents house to come back home, I got very, very emotional and sad. I’ve known this would come, and needs to come to process the changes and move forward with the new life, but it’s still painful. I think it has to do with the fact that I spent a couple of weeks at my parents house. It hit me that I’m not going to get to see them for at least two months and that made me very sad. Also, She wrote a Facebook status that really resonated with me. She mentioned that she loved being from a town where the people who work on our brakes tell us they will miss us and where the lady who makes my milkshakes at the drugstore wants to give us one more hug before we go. Tonight I’m back in Valdosta, tired, but ok. The emotion has subsided and we are getting back to our new normal. I still miss my family and wish it was easier to run home for a visit, but we are here for a reason and now that our suitcases are unpacked we can get back to normal, at least until we leave for Central America.

Southern Or Redneck?

Day 183 (Written Tuesday June 12) ~ Disclaimer: you may have a different definition of redneck than I do, and if that be the case I hope you aren’t offended. If you consider yourself a redneck, but don’t think my description is fitting of you, then you and I just have a different definition of redneck. No harm, no foul. If you’ve turned on a tv anytime in the last couple of months, it has been obvious to you that America has become fascinated by rednecks. Redneck Island and My Big Fat Redneck Vacation are CMT’s two most popular shows. Not too long ago Jeff Foxworthy broke onto the scene because of his redneck jokes and country music radio has fed the world a steady diet of redneck anthems (High Tech Redneck, Redneck Yacht Club, Redneck Woman). Some of you may not be aware of this, but there is a difference between being southern and being redneck. Please allow me to explain. The main thing you need to know is that rednecks aren’t only in the south and all southerners aren’t rednecks. Where I come from, rednecks is not a good thing. Redneck is synonym for ignorant, white trash. Rednecks are low class. Redneck may be popular, but its not a good thing. I am southern, I am country, I am hick, I am hillbilly, but I am not a redneck. I grew up with rednecks, worked with rednecks and have redneck family members. I speak fluent redneck and can spot one a mile away. I’ve met plenty of yankee rednecks. Kid Rock, who is from Detroit, Michigan, is like the template for redneck. Contrast that with southerners, hicks and hillbillies. They are honest, hard working, give you the shirt off their back, do anything for you, godly, salt of the earth kind of people. I proudly wear any of these names. Southerners are modeled more by Andy Griffin than Kid Rock. Sure we talk funny, have peculiar ways and can, at times be simple, but you’ll never meet better people anywhere.

Talking With Old Men

Day 181 (Written Sunday June 10) ~Lately I’ve picked up a new hobby. It’s something I’ve done many, many times for many, many years, but lately I’ve been really attuned to how enjoyable it can be. What is this hobby? Talking, or more accurately, really listening to old men. Please understand “old” is not used in a derogatory fashion, but merely a descriptive one. On the contrary, I have the utmost respect and appreciation for them. I love to listen to them describe life when it was simple. They are like a living history book describing life on a small farm, the Depression, the war and telling tales that need to be heard. They tell their stories with such enthusiasm. They speak with their whole bodies, raising their voices for emphasis, gesturing with their hands and scrunching their faces intensely. I love talking to them because they are a direct link to a time that will likely be no more. Digging deeper, it probably also has something to do with the fact that both my grandfathers are gone and through these men I can have an emotional connection to the old men who meant so much to me.

Mmmmmm, Motorboatin’

Day 177 (Written Wednesday June 6) ~ Ok, so you can blame Her for the title of this post. This is Her new favorite song and it is catchier than mono. I heard it for the first time tonight on the CMT awards and it is stuck in my head. I love the mandolin hook and the fact they drag out the word pontoooooon and drop the g off of motorboatin’. My reason for this post is not just to comment on one of the first country songs I’ve liked in 40 forevers, but to talk about our day at the river with friends. Yesterday we were invited by some of our good friends to join them, and several other of our good friends, for a cookout at their river house in Rogersville, Alabama. Our friendship is somewhat atypical because of the age discrepancies amongst us. We are the youngest of the group, clocking in at 36. The next youngest couple in the group is in their mid forties, and the other couples are between 50 and their 70’s. Do the math, when we were born, they were older than we are now! You would think that our group would have little in common, but you would be wrong. Here’s what we have in common: we love life, love to laugh and love being together.

Native Tongue

Day 175 (Written Monday June 4) ~ While I was back home I got to spend a lot of time with a lot of different people in a lot of different settings. I noticed how many different expressions and words we use that are unique to the South. During one conversation I sat listening to some “old timers” speaking and thought to myself, “If I was from somewhere other than here, I don’t know if I’d have any idea what these guys are saying.” When we were in Panama a couple of years ago, my translator would occasionally say to me “Say a different word” which was his way of telling me that whatever I had just said, he didn’t know how to translate it into Spanish. Below are a few words and expressions I have heard my whole life that I’d like to translate for my not quite so hillbilly friends. I’ll start with a few easy ones that you’re probably familiar with: reckon, as in, “I reckon I’ll go fishing at the river in the morning.” Reckon means, “I guess so, probably, yes.” Yonder, as in, “We’re heading up yonder tomorrow afternoon.” Yonder refers to any place that you have previously been discussing. You can go down yonder, up yonder, over yonder, in yonder and even out yonder. Ya’ll, as in, “Ya’ll come back now, ya hear.” Ya’ll simply means “you all” and can be used to refer to any number of people. Coke, as in, “Ya’ll want a coke?” Coke refers to any carbonated beverage: Pepsi, Sprite, Coke, Mountain Dew, Dr. Pepper, whatever. If you specifically want an actual Coke, you need to specify “Coca Cola.” Those were the easy ones, the ones you hear mentioned by Jeff Foxworthy and others all the time. Now I want to share with you a few really deep cuts that you won’t hear on My Big Redneck Vacation or any of the other homogenized hillbilly’s on CMT. Words like: geehaw, as in, “We tried out a new preacher, but he just didn’t geehaw with us.” Geehaw means “to fit in, connect with, get along with.” It comes from two words “Gee” and “Haw” which were the right and left commands for farmers plowing with a horse, ox or mule. An animal that wouldn’t gee or haw, wouldn’t work with the farmer. 40 forevers or a month of Sundays, as in, “ I haven’t seen ya’ll in 40 forevers” or “We haven’t been down there in a month of Sundays.” Both expressions are pretty simple. They just mean “a long time.” My two favorite, deep south, old school, country expressions are “drectly” and “trompsin” (no clue about how to spell those because I’ve only heard them spoken, never written). These two expressions were favorites of my Big Mamma. Drectly, I believe, is a contraction of the word “directly”. She used to say things like, “We’ll be down there drectly.” It was used to denote a time frame that could mean in a few minutes or a few hours. I loved hearing my grandmother say this word. On the other hand, I hated to hear her use “trompsin”, as in, “Don’t ya’ll come trompsin through here after I just finished mopping this floor.” Trompsin was to track up a just vacuumed, swept or mopped floor. It meant you were walking through there making a mess like you owned the place. When I hear someone use one of these expressions I know they are as country as collard greens, and not just a midwesterner playing hick (I'm talking to you Larry the Cable Guy).

People Let Me Tell You ‘Bout My Best Friend

Day 178 (Written Thursday June 7) ~ Someday I’m going to tell you all about my “Brain Trust” (four best friends that I turn to in tough times or when I need to make big decisions and get serious advice), but for today I’m just going to focus on one of them. The first time I saw Tony Choate was when he walked into the Knight Arnold Church of Christ auditorium on the Sunday night before we began the fall quarter at the Memphis School of Preaching. He was wearing a bright purple suit. He looked like Where’s Waldo and Barney had a child. I will be the first to admit that I am not a great judge of character on first impressions. Too often I am quick to judge on first impressions and then change my mind in time. This was the case with Tony. At first I didn’t like him. I thought he was goofy, weird and didn’t take things serious enough. Fifteen years later I KNOW he is goofy, weird and doesn’t take things seriously and those are good things. I can’t honestly remember when we started being friends, but I think it was shortly after the school and church moved to the new building. Tony and Emily had an apartment by the new school and we started going there for lunch every day. We would watch Jerry Springer (we thought we were being such rebels) and play video games. Keep in mind, although we were married (and I had kids), we were by age just juniors in college. Somewhere during that time we started going to drive in movies, college football games, pro wrestling and hanging out playing games at each of our houses, and became best friends. He is a great youth minister and he is a huge reason why I am in mission work today because he kept after me until I finally went with him on my first mission trip a few years ago. Needless to say, we had so much fun on that trip too. When I was asked to go into missions full time, he was one of the first people I called to get advice and guidance from. I was reminded of how much fun we’ve had together this week when I went to visit. We spent an hour talking about things we were doing and working on, plans we had and swapping ideas about church stuff. He has always been one of my greatest motivators and idea givers. He went with me to hear me preach and on the way back we spent an hour laughing that kind of laughter that is like therapy. It was such a great visit and such a greatly needed night of laughter. Its great to have a friend who can laugh with you, inspire you and advise you in the toughest moments of your life. The only thing I can think of that I don’t like about him is that he lives too far away and I don’t get to see him nearly enough.

My Fine Furry And Feathered Friends

Day 176 (Written Tuesday June 5) ~ Today I walked around the farm a little bit and was reminded of some of the things that I am missing since being gone. During our ten years on the farm I had gotten used to seeing an array of critters that entertained me. One of them was the large blue herron that enjoyed perching on our rock wall and fishing in our creek. I always thought he was so majestic standing on one leg for long periods of time remaining perfectly still. However, he scared the mess out of me on more than one occasion when I would walk out the back door in the mornings to go to work, only to have him take flight about twenty feet from me. If you’ve ever heard the loud “whoop, whoop” sound their wings make as they lift off, you know what I mean. Then there were the turkeys, to whom our back pasture was apparently a singles bar. I have seen over three dozen back there at one time. In early spring (March and April) we would leave our windows up all the time and when I got up in the mornings I could hear them gobbling on the back ridge. I would usually stand there in the morning when I got up and watch them strut across the pasture. A few times they even came up as close as the sidewalk at my front porch. Turkeys are one of my absolutely most favorite animals in the world (mainly because they remind me of teenage boys, but that is another post for another day). Another favorite of mine is the big, fat groundhog who sat by the side of the road every couple of weeks. I would laugh every single time I saw him. He would just be sitting up on his hind legs, chewing on some grass and watching the cars go by in the morning. He always looked so chill and it cracked me up. He may have been the coolest animal I’ve ever seen. I always imagined that he was taunting everyone by saying, “Enjoy work today humans. I’ll just be kickin’ it by the road, eatin’ me some food.” You don’t have to say it, I know, I’ve got issues, too much time on my hands and a way too active imagination. Hands down, my favorite of them all was Huey P. Long. This was the name I gave to the Kingfisher who perched on the power line at the end of my driveway virtually every day. For those of you who aren’t Louisiana history buffs, Huey P. Long was the governor of Louisiana in the 1930’s who’s slogan was “A chicken in every pot and every man a king.” He was probably very corrupt (aren’t all Louisiana politicians?), but he was also very adept and getting things done (read about how he got LSU’s football stadium expanded and roads built all over rural Louisiana). His nickname was, the Kingfisher. He is without a doubt my favorite historical politician (what? doesn’t everyone have a favorite historical politician?) and so I named my favorite bird in his honor. I saw this bird almost everyday of my life for nearly ten years. Perhaps it was actually children of the original Huey P. Long bird that I saw year after year (I don’t know the life span of Kingfishers), but I could count on that bird being there each day and he rarely disappointed. Perhaps I should note that since returning, I have yet to see him. Actually I haven’t see any of them. I wonder if they have been thinking the same thing about me?

The South You Won’t See On CMT

Day 173 (Written Saturday June 2) ~ I am often amused, and even more often frustrated by the stereotypes of southern life that you usually see in the movies or tv. The worst offender is actually “country” music (shame on you, you’re as bad as rappers using derogatory racist terms). If you watch an hour of CMT you’d reach the conclusion that all we do is have impromptu parties down by the creek, out by the lake, up in a barn loft or in the middle of a corn field, where girls in cowboy boots, daisy dukes and tied up at the belly flannel shirts dance in truck beds while we good ole boys in our sleeveless t-shirts fight or play a guitar. Have I done all of these things? Yes, but nowhere nearly as often as depicted in country music videos. And the only girls I have ever known that actually wear cowboy boots and hats are the city girls who are trying to “look country” because of what they see in videos. Sorry I’m getting on my soapbox and off my subject. There are, however, a number of stereotypical southern thangs that are very accurate and, by me, dearly beloved. Sweet tea. My Big Mamma made what was essentially tea flavored Kool Aid, with so much sugar in it you could stand a spoon up in the glass. Fried chicken. Yes we eat it a lot and no KFC and Cracker Barrel can’t hold a candle to pretty much anyone’s granny’s recipe. But my favorite of all is southern ceremonies like weddings and funerals. Have you seen the wedding scene from Steel Magnolias? That captures it as well as anything I’ve ever seen. This weekend I got to enjoy a wonderful Southern wedding (Congratulations Jake & Leslie!). It was outdoors in the evening, lights in the trees, hydrangeas on the tables, the mommas and grandmothers made most everything, Coca-Cola, Sun-Drop, Orange Crush and Nehi Grape in the bottle in ice tubs, mason jar lanterns and barefoot brides and bridesmaids. It was everything I love about being Southern. You won’t see this in a Kenny Chesney video, but this is the real South. I’m American by birth and Southern by the grace of God, ya’ll.

Mamma, I’m Coming Home

Day 172 (Written Friday (June 1) ~ Today I make the long journey back home to visit. I don’t live there anymore and I don’t have a house to go to. I will stay at my parents house. I haven’t lived with my parents since 1994 and have only stayed with them overnight a few times during that time. I’m both excited and dreading it. We have only been in Georgia for three weeks so we really haven’t had time to put down roots and I am enjoying doing that. I am sure I am going to begin missing my hometown eventually, but I haven’t been gone long enough for that to start (how can I miss you if you won’t go away?). It will be fun and I will enjoy getting to see our good friends that I haven’t seen in nearly a month (which actually isn’t that unusual because our life has always been a hectic stay on the go type of lifestyle), and I have plenty of work to do while I’m there. Also, it will be nice to have a little time before we head overseas. After these couple of weeks I won’t be back for two months and after that two more months and after that, who knows.

Riders On The Storm

Day 168 (Written Monday May 28) ~ Today we experienced our first Tropical Storm, Beryl. It formed quickly off the Atlantic Coast and made landfall in Jacksonville and moved inward to Valdosta. How did we deal with the storm? We hopped in the car and headed West to Seaside, Florida and outran it. In Valdosta there was a torrential downpour, but three hours West it was blue skies and sunshine. We had a beautiful day at the beach and it was fascinating to see the swirling clouds as we got to Tallahassee on our way back home. We got tickled at all of the family in friends in Tennessee that were worrying about our safety (I can assure you we were never in anything close to danger). Tropical Storm Beryl was actually a blessing because he deposited a bunch of much needed rain. Now I’m curious to see what happens when a hurricane hits nearby. When that happens, we may be making an unexpected trip back to Tennessee.

Daddy’s Hands

Day 166 (Written Saturday May 26) ~ Growing up my dad and I always related to one another through sports. From the time I was five until I started playing high school ball my dad coached me in most all the sports I played. We have watched a thousand games on tv and in person together, even the bitter rivalry of the Third Saturday In October (Tennessee vs. Alabama, we root for opposite teams). We have played more rounds of golf together than I can remember. We’ve gone to high school, college and pro games in baseball, basketball and football. We’ve gone to Nashville, Memphis, Birmingham, Knoxville, Tuscaloosa, Atlanta, Boston and Chicago. Sports is our thing. Sports have always been our thing. But sports is kind of our only thing. We just don’t have a great deal in common outside of sports. We don’t like much of the same music (we do both like 50’s, but he also likes Train, yikes), he isn’t a fan of reading (although he read a couple of mafia related books that I liked) and he thinks most of the movies I like are weird. We do both love food, a lot, although he doesn’t share my love of cooking it. There have been times when I have wondered if we were even related. We can just be so different, but then there are days like today. I bought a fixer upper lawnmower for when I moved to Georgia and I got it cheap. I invested a small amount into getting it fixed and was ready to go. Only I wasn’t. Once we got it off the truck and started it up there was a problem, the blades didn’t work. It’s funny how adversity can often be the ingredients for magic. One way in which I am just like my dad is in our disdain for and frustration with mechanical things. I have had people screaming in my face, spitting all over me in the process, grabbing me by my tie and all the while I stay as cool as the other side of the pillow, but you let a weed eater not start after a few pulls on the cord and I might literally throw it into the creek while screaming incomprehensible syllables of rage. This fact is what makes today all the more amazing in my mind. So what happened? Dad and I got under the lawnmower, got out the tools, figured out what was wrong and fixed it! For many men this would be a “So what?”, but for us this was a really big deal. We are not the fixing kind of guys. Granted, I have noticed in the last eight or so years that my dad has really gotten good at fixing stuff, and I am getting better, but this was a big deal. Not just that we did it, but that WE did it. He needed my help and I needed his. I couldn’t have ever done it without him. This may sound silly to some who are more mechanically inclined, but this is one of the proudest moments of my life. I had such a sense of accomplishment and pride and closeness to my dad. It was the same feeling I used to get when we would play catch in the yard when I was a kid. Who would have ever thought that a tool in my dad’s hands could not only fix my lawnmower but also build a bond between us?

We’ll Leave A Light On For You

Day 165 (Written Friday May 25) ~ This weekend is a special one in our house because it marks the first visitors from home to come and visit us in Georgia. My parents, along with the Glovers are coming to visit and go to the theme park to see The Band Perry in concert. We’re excited because we love it here, we love them and we want them to see why we love it here. For those of you thinking about stopping in to visit us, let me mention a few reasons why you might want to: the weather here is nice (hot in the summer, but very mild winters), it has a very tropical/coastal feel to it (lots of water, palm trees, sand, sun), the coast is very close....both of them (Gulf and Atlantic), water is everywhere (beautiful lakes), there is stuff to do here (locals don’t think that so much, but compared to Pulaski, there is stuff to do here), Spanish moss in ancient oak trees are everywhere, we have an amusement park ten minutes from our house (Wild Adventures, look it up online) and all of the following places are within a 3 hour drive: Orlando (Disneyland, Universal Studios, what what!), Savannah, Saint Simons Island, Destin/Panama City Beach/Seaside, Atlanta, Jacksonville, Tampa and for you football fans Gainesville and Tallahassee. If you can’t find something around here that will entertain you, then you must not be interested in anything. Ya’ll come and see us when you can. We’ll leave a light on for you.

My Favorite Poems: Desiderate (Desired Things) by Max Ehrman

Day 174 (Written Sunday June 3) ~ This poem is almost hypnotic to me and is in so many ways the epitome of why I love poetry. It has the ability to put you in a trance with its flow, all the while it educates you and fills you with optimism. This poem reads, to me, almost like an excerpt from the book of Proverbs and I have tried to live out its challenges in my life. Wherein I have succeeded, it has produced tremendous contentment. Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, 
and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, 
be on good terms with all persons. 
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; 
and listen to others, 
even to the dull and the ignorant; 
they too have their story. 
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; 
they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, 
you may become vain or bitter, 
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. 
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. 
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; 
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, 
for the world is full of trickery. 
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; 
many persons strive for high ideals, 
and everywhere life is full of heroism. 
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. 
Neither be cynical about love, 
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, 
it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, 
gracefully surrendering the things of youth. 
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. 
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. 
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, 
be gentle with yourself. 
You are a child of the universe 
no less than the trees and the stars; 
you have a right to be here. 
And whether or not it is clear to you, 
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, 
whatever you conceive Him to be. 
And whatever your labors and aspirations, 
in the noisy confusion of life, 
keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, 
it is still a beautiful world. 
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Even More Quotes I Love

Day 171 (Written Thursday May 31) ~ We should prepare our children in such a way that our ceiling is their floor. A church is a spiritual crock pot, not a microwave. “Never cry over anything that can’t cry over you.” Vittorio de Sica to Sophia Loren after her jewelry was stolen “Wrinkles only go where the smiles have been.” Jimmy Buffett (Barefoot Children In The Rain) “Pain is inevitable. Misery is optional.” Jesse Duplantis “To reach the port of Heaven, we must sail, sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it -- but we must sail, not drift, or lie at anchor.” Oliver Wendell Holmes “There is only one way to acquire wisdom. But when it comes to making a fool of yourself, you have your choice of thousands of ways of doing it.” E.C. McKenzie “Once upon a time in a fabulous, far-away land a frog was transformed into a handsome prince with just a kiss...we call this a ‘fairytale.’ In an equally fabulous, but less far-away land, a single-cell organism was transformed into a man with just a lot of wishful thinking...we call this ‘the general theory of evolution.’” Rex Banks

My Favorite Poems: Slow Dance

Day 170 (Written Wednesday May 30) ~ Lately my life has been a little hectic, a little frantic, and as I told my mom, seems to be stuck on fast forward. With that being the case, the timing of this poem couldn’t be better. Perhaps you can relate. Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a 
butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night? 
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last. 
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say,"Hi"

You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there, 
When you worry and hurry 
through your day,
It is like an unopened 
gift....Thrown away.
 Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

More Quotes I Love

Day 169 (Written Tuesday May 29) ~ Many of you enjoyed the first round of quotes, I hope you like these too. Those of you who love sports will likely enjoy these the most because they are all football related. “The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely to be the one who dropped it.” Lou Holtz / Arkansas “I make my practices real hard because if a player is a quitter, I want him to quit in practice, not in a game.”  Bear Bryant / Alabama “Football is not a contact sport - it is a collision sport.  Dancing is a contact sport.”  Duffy Daugherty / Michigan State “Son, you've got a good engine, but your hands aren't on the steering wheel.”   Bobby Bowden / Florida State "The first person I would like to thank is the good Lord, for giving me the ability to play the game of football. Because without the ability to play the game I would have been at Auburn." -- Marty Lyons

My Favorite Poems: I Am Lousiana

Day 167 (Written Sunday May 27) ~ I won’t rehash my love of Louisiana, there are plenty of my blog entries that explain all of that. But I did want to share with you one of my favorite poems, written by Paul Ott, that just happens to be the state cultural poem of Louisiana (adopted in 2006). It tells so many of the things that I too love about the best money the U.S. government ever spent. I'm Spanish moss on a live oak tree
Cajun fried shrimp and a cypress knee.
I'm Bienville, Captain Shreve, Beauregard, Zack Taylor and Jean Lafitte.
I'm New Orleans, the land of dreams Creole cookin' and a Mardi Gras king.
I'm a thoroughbred racin' at Louisiana Downs,
Avery Island and a Catahoula hound.
I'm the Louisiana Hayride and the birth of the blues,
The Evangeline, Chickory Coffee and Baton Rouge.
I'm when the Saints Go Marchin' In the Superdome,
The Atchafalaya and an old plantation home.
I'm jambalaya, a catfish fry and a filet gumbo,
A sugar cane patch, Pete Fountain, French Quarter and Satchmo.
Well, I'm the Mississippi River as it rounds the bend.
I am Louisiana. Ya'll Come Back Again.

Quotes I Love

Day 164 (Written Thursday May 24) ~ I collect many things: rocks, copies of the book “Don’t Stop The Carnival” by Herman Wouk, vinyl records, Louisiana artifacts, and quotes. I collect quotes. I have lists and lists of quotes all over. They are written on random pieces of paper, typed in computer files, printed on plaques. They are all around me. I collect them because I love the power of words, their ability to evoke emotion and provoke action and shape thought. I decided that I am going to start sharing some of my favorite quotes with those who read my blog in hopes of passing on the wisdom and humor contained therein. Here are a few I love. I hope you enjoy: Life’s too short to worry, life’s too long to wait, life’s too short not to love everybody, life is too long to hate. Todd Snider Worry is like praying for what you don’t want to happen. A good teacher says 500 things one time, a great teacher says one thing 500 times. "God’s ways have always been mysterious. Who but God would select one childless couple to begin His chosen nation or allow His own Son to be born in poverty and live infancy as a refugee? Who but God would let the denier preach on Pentecost or call the persecutor to preach? Who but God would allow His lead evangelist to work and write from prison? Part of God’s ongoing mystery story is His amazing ability to use the most unlikely people in the most unlikely settings to accomplish His will. Prison bars may limit mobility, but they cannot limit service. They may limit freedom, but they cannot limit faith. God can work over, through, and around every circumstance." One Sabbath, a minister began his sermon in this way: "I'd like to make three points today.  First, there are millions of people around the world who are going to hell.  Second, most of us sitting here today do not give a damn about it."  After a lengthy pause he continued: "My third point is that you are more concerned that I, your pastor, said the word damn than you are about the millions of people going to hell."

My Favorite Poems: Allow Me To Introduce The Christ

Day 163 (Written Wednesday May 23) ~ Seeing as it is Bible study night, I wanted to share one of my favorite poems with you that serves as somewhat of a sermon too. I do not know the name of the girl who wrote this, but I once saw her deliver this as a half rap, half song, half sermon, half spoken word poem. It is quite lengthy, but I assure you the message is worth the time it will take to read it. I hope you enjoy: We’ve got a False Jesus being portrayed. As seen on TV, acting cool….you see he’s changed.
A different Jesus from the Bible so…allow me to bring the real Christ on stage. Not that whack Jesus, the one not based on fact Jesus, too often displayed. The Christ in Glory, not the one on your chain.
Because he’s the real Jesus Peace that only dwells in the saved. So allow me to paint the picture of Christ in the Scripture preaching faith and repentance that your too cool Jesus….never seems to mention. It seems like he’s down with all the things that you do. But come on, there’s only one Jesus who is true. So which one will you let reign over you? Who?
The Millionaire Jesus who just wants to make you rich? Give you some ice, fame, money, to prove that you are blessed? The Black Panther Jesus who throws up his black fist. The ‘Kan…Ye…West’ Jesus who walks with no Holiness. Which one will you choose? I said….Which one will you choose?
So I think it is long overdo to have a re-introduction of Christ. So there won’t be any confusion as to which one is right, because one leads to death, and the other IS life! So allow me to, re-introduce the Christ. Allow me to, re-introduce the Christ. I said allow me to re-introduce the Christ! He’s been distorted by the people and IT JUST AIN’T RIGHT!
Allow me to re-introduce the Christ. Not someone you can pimp around to propel your cause. Or a name you can proclaim just to cover your flaws. Look if this is true then you’re serving a different Boss. Your Christ is an idol and you’re probably lost.
Because Christ in the scripture? He gave a call to forsake all. Not to wear a cross but to take up your cross and follow Him. Because we’re holding a death sentence because of our sin. And it’s His Mercy that His wrath hasn’t burned times ten. Just like Sodom and Gomorrah but a curse within. You see He gives us a chance to learn of Him!
So that He can be glorified in His rightful place. So if we’re serving this imitation Jesus, dude, it’s like a blatant slap in the face, distorting His grace and disregarding His sacrifice. For a worldly Christ, like the ‘Purpose Driven Life’ Jesus, who prophesied you’ll be used by him before you’re living like Jesus.
Or that S.A.T. Jesus who helps you with all your quizzes, gets you into college, allows you to pass math and physics, the homosexual Jesus who doesn’t see you sinning. The ‘Destiny’s Child’ Jesus who sees your Beyoncé and starts grinning. Which one will you choose? I said…which one will you choose?
So I think it is long overdue to have a re-introduction of Christ. So there won’t be any confusion as to which one is right, because one leads to death, and the other IS life! So allow me to.. re-introduce the Christ.
Allow me to … re-introduce the Christ. He’s been distorted by the people and IT JUST AIN’T RIGHT!
So allow me to re-introduce the Christ.
Not someone that we can cover His mouth, so we can continue our nose in the dirt, so He doesn’t require us to repent of all sins, to be born again, to never blend in with this world, and Broadway is the street that walks the Material Girl, she’s got you seduced, she feeds you a phony Jesus that doesn’t want to save you from your sins but wants to…”Kick it with you.”
Like…”Jesus is my Homeboy”..or “Jesus got me employed” or “Jesus is my Decoy”, But will the real Jesus please stand up? The ONE who is TRUE! Because He’s been, knocked down, pushed down, and these idols come in, he wrecked it up, he wrecked it up to the point that if the real Jesus came back right now…Dude, the Church would probably hang Him upside down! Pin Him to one of these beams and crucify Him again. Because he’s not down with your sin! And it hurts me to see how the Church will defend their lifestyle. Like, Wow! Don’t we want to know Christ? The one who willingly gave His life to set us free from our sin you see.
And I must do this by ANY means necessary. See, I must NEVER hide the LIGHT! So tonight, I’m going to introduce Jesus Christ. I said I’m going to introduce Jesus Christ because He’s been distorted by the people and IT JUST AIN’T RIGHT! So I’m going to introduce Jesus Christ because one day…Dude…. He is coming back and it’s important that you recognize Him because the scripture talks about that.
Many people saying….”I’m Jesus….No, I’m Jesus…No, I’m Jesus” But which one is fact? And you got to get into the Bible to see about that, that He’s coming in the clouds with Power and Glory, and every knee will bow, testify to His authority. So this Jesus of the scripture better take priority, not the one that’s accepted every where by the majority, when He Himself said the world would hate Him! So why all of a sudden does the world want to date Him? Think about it.
Hopefully you haven’t given in to this ‘Come as you are, stay as you are’ Jesus. ‘He has this wonderful plan for my Life’ Jesus, ‘You don’t need repentance’ Jesus…or ‘All roads lead to Jesus.’ I hope you haven’t given in to this, but you serve the One who is Holy. Because it will be something if on Judgement day the Jesus you’ve been serving was simply an angel of light, which covered a legion of demons masquerading as Christ. All this time serving a Jesus who’s not been pierced at his feet and the wrists, who has no sword coming out of his mouth, No rod of Righteousness! To go on day by day by day, and willingly MISS because we’re serving a created image that leads you to the Abyss.
So lets get into scripture, so we’re not fooled by this Jesus who when were sinning he’s still with us, Won’t get into this Jesus that the world loves, and he’s cool with your worldly music, worldly TV, you going to the club, your sex, your lies, your vanity, your phony love, the very thing that caused Christ in the scripture to shed blood.
So let’s make sure we’re serving the right Christ, not a wolf in sheep’s clothing that’s got you enticed. The TRUE ONE, want to make you new ONE, The ONLY begotten SON!
So I think it’s long overdue for you to be introduced tonight. Everybody help me welcome…Jesus Christ!

A Shepherd, Or Just An Elder?

Day 158 (Written Friday May 18) ~ I’ve been a Christian for 23 years. I’ve been a preacher 15 years. I’ve been a missionary for 6 months. I have preached in over 200 churches in 13 states. In that time and in those various roles I have met A LOT of men serving in the position of elder in the Lord’s church. As in any category, there has been a wide range of “types” I have encountered who are overseeing congregations. Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. Some are not godly Christian men/they are unqualified, yet have been appointed as elders. Thankfully, this group is a very small minority, but the impact on a congregation can be devastating and very difficult to overcome. I’ve encountered men who are racist, use profanity, have explosive and violent tempers, lie and are womanizers. How these men got into the eldership I cannot fathom. These men actively do damage to the church, both amongst its members and in the community. Most are good men who are mostly qualified but fail to grasp to true gravity of the office. So many congregations have elderships made up of men who are not worldly or wicked. They are sincere in their beliefs and humble in their attitudes, yet quite a few are very limited in their Bible knowledge. They are appointed almost by default (they are the best we’ve got here at congregation X). They have been faithful in attendance for many years, always help when work is to be done, teach Bible class, but do they understand what is required of overseers? These men don’t hurt the congregation internally, nor in the community (at least not knowingly or intentionally), but neither do they meet its greatest needs. They insure sound doctrine is preached, the building is maintained, good works are supported (all of which is very, very important and necessary and for which they should be commended), but often fail to disciple the members. A few Christians will take off on their own and grow greatly into strong disciples, but most will simply occupy a pew, never reaching their potential. These men are elders and overseers, but they are lacking one vitally important quality desperately needed in the church. A few are shepherds. There is a difference between being in charge, and shepherding. The shepherd is in charge of the sheep, but he does so much more and is so much more to them. I have met very few shepherds. Even more rare is meeting a collection of shepherds in one congregation. But when you do, it is obvious. These are the congregations that others look at and wonder, “How do they do that?” A huge part of that reason is they have shepherds, not just elders. Not just men in charge, men making decisions about what color the carpet should be and if we need to buy new song books, but men who are shepherding God’s flock. They bring them back when they are astray, they feed them spiritually, they heal them when they are hurting, they protect them from enemies and attacks and they lead them where they need to be. This is what God intended: “The elders who are among you I exhort, I who am a fellow elder and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory that will be revealed: 2 Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly,[a] not for dishonest gain but eagerly; 3 nor as being lords over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock” (1 Peter 5:1-3). There are several negatives qualifications and several positive ones as well. Negatives: don’t serve by compulsion (because someone wants you to, just because there is a need, just because you were asked), don’t serve for personal gain (especially dishonest gain, stealing, taking advantage of and abusing the authority of the position), don’t lord over those entrusted to you (you aren’t their boss, parents, master, God, these people trust you and God has trusted you with His sheep, you are a steward). Positives: shepherd the flock (see Psalm 23), serve as overseers (you may be “in charge” but you are still to be a servant, see Ephesians 5), serve willingly (you have to want this because it is going to require so much of you if you do it God’s way; if it’s just a job, you may oversee, but you’ll never shepherd), and serve as an example to the flock (don’t behave, lead, conduct in a way you wouldn’t want them to do back to you). I’ve never served as an elder, and I don’t believe I’m qualified to right now. I aspire to be qualified so that I can serve if I’m needed. None of what I have written is a knock on elders, quite the opposite. I know firsthand what is required of them and what it costs them and love the men who serve. I respect them and admire them. I trust them and I obey them. But I also pray and try to teach, so that those good men who are just serving as elders/overseers, can grow to become shepherds.

Canine Theology

Day 162 (Written Tuesday May 22) ~

There are churches today who are offering services for people and their pets, even offering communion for both man and beast. This is not a blog about that. This is a blog about what I learned about my own faith from watching my dog Fez tonight. In March of 2011 Po was mowing the yard when he noticed something hiding in the tall grass. He stopped the mower and went over to investigate, only to discover a tiny little ball of white and black fur buried in the green grass. It was a puppy. He picked her up (able to hold her in the palm of his hand) and came walking across the yard. I witnessed all of this from a distance and thought to myself, “Oh no. Whatever he found he will be in love with by the time he gets to the house and whatever it is will have to be fed.” Sure enough, I was right on both counts, but failed to realize She and the Oldest would be in love with it too. It was a tiny Jack Russell looking mutt puppy. You need to know a few things: #1 - I like animals just fine, but I don’t like having to take care of a pet. #2 - We already had a dog, a black lab named Saban who lives outside, requiring only a bowl of food each morning and evening. #3 - I am not an “animals are part of our family” type person (if you are I have no problem with that, it’s just not who I am). #4 - We were leaving the next week to go to Fort Wayne, Indiana for a weeklong Gospel meeting, and, after our nine hour drive, we would be staying in a hotel the whole time. Despite all of the previously mentioned facts, somehow I found myself paying a pet deposit and bringing this little fur ball along for the trip. Not only that, we wind up walking out of Pet Smart with a little green sweater for her. I AM NOT THAT PERSON, but somehow I had become that person. By the end of that trip, Fez was part of the family (and living in my house, something I had never allowed before). Fast forward a year to tonight. It was about 8:30 pm, dinner was finished, chores were done, so She and I decided to sit on the back deck and enjoy the cool evening following the rain storm. Anytime you go outside, Fez assumes that you are there to entertain her. I spent the next ten minutes playing a little game with Fez that I like to call “Let her attack me with tooth and claw until she grows exhausted or bored or both.” It is her absolute favorite game. While playing this game, she suddenly did something bizarre and interesting. All at once she took off, ran under a bush and came out with something in her mouth. I thought it must be a lizard (one thing she loves about South Georgia is chasing lizards), a mouse or a bird. She ran to the other side of the flower bed and started digging. You must understand, because it is all sand, this little puppy can dig a very big and deep hole in a matter of seconds. After digging a nearly one foot deep hole she put her prize in the hole and began using her nose to fill the hole in and bury whatever it was. She returned to playing for a minute and then stopped, ran back to the place where she buried her treasure and dug it up. This time she took it back under the bush. A minute later she buried it again. By this time I am getting curious as to what she has, and anticipate being able to play my favorite game called “Annoy Fez.” Jade and I started following her to her hiding places acting like we were going to get whatever she had buried. She did not like this at all. She acted all nervous, protective, jealous, stingy, whatever emotions a dog is capable of feeling. Fez did not want us to get her “precious.” Finally I was able to get behind the bush and dig up her buried treasure, while fighting her off as she tried desperately to protect it and keep me from getting it. She was able to get it (it was buried in sand, I had no idea what I was looking for and she has the added assistance of a very good sense of smell), but I caught her and pried it out of her mouth. You know what it was? It was a rotten apple core that I had thrown out nearly two weeks ago. This was her prized possession that she so desperately wanted and wanted to keep from anyone else. She and I (my wife, not Fez) had a good laugh and then went in to do some other things. An hour later I was sitting in the floor attaching mounting brackets to the blinds on our back porch door and was thinking about Fez. This is where the theology lesson kicked in. I wonder if my Master sees me with the same pity and sadness that I had toward Fez? He provides me with everything I need and also is present in my life and willing to spend time with me. How often do I stop to spend time in fellowship with Him, only to get distracted in a few minutes and go chasing after some other perceived treasure that is actually worthless? Fez spends much of the day alone, wishing we would come out back to spend some time with her, and when I did, she got distracted by something that was thrown out as trash. Do we not long for a closer relationship with God, desiring to be with Him, to know He is there and to have Him active in our lives? He is gladly present (I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world (Matthew 28:20)....I will never leave you nor forsake you (Hebrews 13:5) and yet it is we who walk away to chase after worthless things. Things we try to hide from others. Things we don’t want others to have. Things that we can’t walk away from for even a few minutes. Things that distress us as we worry about losing them or someone else getting them. Things that distract us from what we really want and need...time with Him. Fez doesn’t realize it, but that rotten apple core won’t last too much longer. Gradually it will wither, rot and dissolve into nothing. That is precisely what will happen to all of those shiny, new, expensive things that draw our attention away from God and consume our time. The new gets old. The shiny grows dull. The expensive loses its value. It will all turn to dust. They say a dog is man’s best friend, but on this night, my dog, was this man’s greatest teacher.

I’m Much Too Young To Be This Old

Day 161 (Written Monday May 21) ~ I have two sons it high school! It suddenly dawned on me today for the first time. Someone mentioned the fact that school was out and I saw all of the pictures on Facebook of kids graduation from kindergarten, eight grade and high school and it clicked with me. Since this school year is over, Po is no longer an eighth grader, he’s a freshman in high school! That means the oldest is now officially a senior! It was the summer between my junior and senior year that I met his mother. It’s almost incomprehensible that he is at the stage in life where the rest of his life can be shaped in one day. Two weeks before my senior year began I took an unscheduled day off work, met Her and 19 years later I still haven’t left her side. He is at that point in life. I’m not saying I want him to follow the same path as his mom and dad (marrying at 19 isn’t always the safest, wisest decision, most don’t survive twenty years like we have), but he is at the point where it can happen. He is on the cusp of being an adult, of growing up. Po can no longer be considered a little kid. He’s in high school. He will get his learners permit in four months. He will get his drivers license in just over a year. Where did the years go. It seems that every time I look at them now I can only see the little boys I fell in love with instantly. The one with the hardest southern accent you’ve ever heard (that never stopped) and the other who struggled with a stutter and wouldn’t speak to anyone that wasn’t family. The ones who used to come into my bedroom every morning to see what I was wearing so they could dress the same. The ones who wanted to go anywhere and do anything that their daddy was doing. The country accent is toned down quite a bit, and the stutter is gone leaving us a son who never meets a stranger. They would rather be beaten than dress like me nowadays. But I thank God that they still want to go anywhere and do anything their daddy is doing, and that is one thing about them I pray will never change.

Iglesia de Cristo

Day 160 (Written Sunday May 20) ~ Today I attended a church where they spoke in tongues, or at least it was tongues to me. No, I wasn’t at a Pentecostal church, I visited the Spanish speaking congregation of the church of Christ just south of my home. My good friend and co-worker Jack Farber had invited me to come and visit with him so we did this afternoon. The congregation meets in what is called the “Ortega Camp” (so named because Mr. Ortega bought and set up dozens of old mobile homes which he rents out to Hispanic immigrant workers at Coggins Farm). Me, Po and the Oldest joined rode with Panama Jack out to the church at 3:00 pm. If I had been blindfolded for the journey, when you opened my eyes I would have believed I was in Mexico. Their is an entire Hispanic community that lives and works in this camp, making it an ideal location for a congregation. Most of the people in this camp are poor, extremely hard working and desperately needing the Gospel. I couldn’t help but think that Latin American Missions is taking the Gospel all over Central and South America, but there are Latin souls right here in our community that can be reached as well. Two precious souls, Bill and Lydia Naylor, are the lifeblood of this congregation currently. Bill can read, but does not speak Spanish and Lydia is fluent. She teaches a children’s class and Bill leads singing. My boys and I sang along with every song he lead (we had a song book), and although we don’t speak Spanish (yet), we recognized what songs we were singing by the tune. Panama Jack did the preaching. Unlike our mission trips, there was no translator, so we had to really work to understand what Jack was preaching (we know enough words to ‘get the gist’ of what he was saying). He preached about sin and its consequences. After worship, we said goodbye, or adios and buenos tardes, and loaded in the truck to go to Forrest Park for our evening worship. It was an uplifting day for our family. We worshipped with brethren who do not speak our language, but share our faith and have the same Lord. What a blessing. I will not give the details, but amazingly one of the men there put in his contribution and let me say it was far, far more than the average church member gives. I will almost guarantee you he gave not of his excess but sacrificially. It only made me long for the days when we will leave for Central America even more. Please keep this little congregation in your prayers. There is an entire community of people who could be saved and served through this effort. They are small in number, small in funds, but huge in potential.

I Feel Like A Kid Again

Day 159 (Written Saturday May 19) ~ I taught my first teen Bible class back in June of 1998 at the Fairview VBS. I would go on to teach them class for the next ten years. One year later I began teaching the Sunday morning and Wednesday night teen Bible class at East Hill. I would teach one or both of these classes for the next 8 years. However, I haven’t taught the teen Bible class in nearly five years. I can truthfully say that I both miss it and don’t miss it. Teaching the teens isn’t for everyone and it can wear out and challenge even the most seasoned and dedicated of teachers. However, they are usually the most enthusiastic learners and participants which excites a teacher. I started teaching teens when I was barely out of my teens and through all the years they kept me feeling like a teenager. I have so much love for “my kids” that I taught through the years, and have enjoyed watching them become adults. Many of them are college graduates, married and even parents! Tomorrow I get to teach a teen class for the first time in a long time. I am filling in for the Sunday school teacher of our high school class at Forrest Park. This will be the first time my Oldest has been in my Bible class. I can’t believe how nervous I am. I am so excited to be teaching them and I hope they will enjoy the class to. I want them to learn things they can use in real life, not just memorize some facts about the Bible. They need to know how to live the Bible. That is my task, and I feel like a kid again.

Mission Control

Day 157 (Written Thursday May 17) ~

Just a few hours south of here is Cape Canaveral, Florida, also referred to as mission control. This is the place where most rockets, satellites, shuttles and astronauts are launched into space. Our great nation has done an amazing thing in taking our people into outer space. But long before the first rocket carrying humans left our atmosphere, many men had to spend long hours together planning how this was to take place. Additionally, the entire time they were in space, those same men were gathered together making sure that everything went according to plan and they returned home safely. Those amazing things could not have been accomplished without the work being done at mission control. Today I experienced for the first time the “mission control” for Latin American Missions. Eight of us gathered in a room for the day to hash out the details and dream the big dreams that allow us to evangelize nearly a dozen countries throughout Central and South America. The campaigns that will be attended by hundreds and benefit thousands will begin in just in a matter of days. Before this can happen, we have to figure out how to make it happen. We have to determine what we will do, what we can do and how to make it a reality. While some are gone to foreign countries, others will remain here to see that everything that needs to be done gets taken care of. It is truly a collective effort to make it happen, and because of that, we are able to accomplish great and amazing things to the glory of God and benefit of the hurting. If everyone in the church could see and hear the things I heard in this meeting of our missionary team, it would light a fire in the church that would be fueled by unlimited giving and stoked by the tireless enthusiasm of the masses. These folks genuinely love souls and are willing to work tirelessly to reach them. They have a passion for mission work and are always looking for opportunities and ways to save and serve those of Latin America. After a full day of meeting, it’s rare that all of us are in one place at the same time, we departed, energized, focused and ready to begin leading teams into Peru, El Salvador, Honduras, Costa Rica, Panama and Nicaragua in the next few days. Liftoff in 3, 2..........

Boiled Peanuts

Day 156 (Written Wednesday May 16) ~ Year after year when I was a child I sat in the back seat of my parents car as we made the eight hour trip South to the Gulf Coast. Once we got south of Montgomery, Alabama I would begin to see roadside signs and setups selling boiled peanuts. To my young mind, and still ingrained to this day, these boiled peanut stands were the mascots of the deep south. These stands littered the back roads of Florida, Georgia and Alabama. For over thirty years I have seen these signs, but I have never once tried a boiled peanut.....until today. When our good friends the Tutens learned that we had never eaten boiled peanuts they insisted that we try some. Saturday we stopped at Farmer Brown’s Fresh Produce market and bought some green peanuts. Michelle boiled them for us and today, for the first time in my life, I tried boiled peanuts. Here’s my assessment of them: they are very juicy, a little squishy, very salty and they reminded me of potatoes. All in all I liked them. I’ve never tried stone crabs either, anyone want to insist that I try them and cook me some of those?

A Few Little Things Add Up To One Big Thing

Day 155 (Written Tuesday May 15) ~ Sometimes its the little things that make a big difference. She is quite fond of posting on Facebook “Today I love...” and then listing what little things made her happy that day. I thought I’d try the same today. Being able to buy fresh shrimp. Being able to listen to ESPN Radio on my ride to and from work. Palm trees everywhere. Being close enough to the coast that I can smell the ocean most days. Cheap, local produce. Walks by the lake. Lots of restaurants within a half mile. The golf course across the road. DVD’s for check out at the public library across the road. The view of the lake from the library. A really cool downtown. Home cooked meals with my family each night. Room/space. Her nail polish. The list could be a lot longer, but I’m getting tired. Oh, yeah, that’s another little thing I love, going to bed on time.

First Day Of School

Day 154 (Written Monday May 14) ~ Do you remember how nervous you were that first day of school? You had never been there before, you didn’t know what to expect and you were nervous about making new friends. That is kind of what today is like for me. It is my first official day in the office. We’ve moved in, gotten settled and I am now ready to begin the day to day aspect of working with Latin American Missions. I’m so excited that I was up at five am and in my office by 5:45. I couldn’t wait to get started. I’ve got a lot to learn and a lot that I want to do. So while most of you are getting ready to end the school year, mine is just beginning. I’m going to summer school, but thankfully I will get to be a foreign exchange student studying abroad.

My Favorite Poems (Volume 7): Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Day 152 (Written Saturday May 12) ~ Most of you will probably think this is pretty weird I know, but this is one of those poems that has some truly “poetic” lines that I can’t resist. That, and the fact that it mentions two things that I love. When I was a little boy I had the biggest crush on Olivia Newton John. I thought she was so pretty and I loved to hear her sing. The Australian accent put her over the top as far as I was concerned. I liked her in Grease but I fell in love with her in Xanadu. If you don’t remember the movie Xanadu it’s no surprise. It was a bomb and a pretty terrible movie. It was a musical comedy focusing on a Greek muse who descends from Mount Olympus to Venice Beach, California via a painting on a wall. And did I mention there is roller skating? Lots of roller skating. Nevertheless, my five year old brain was entranced by the combination of a roller skating, painted muse coming to life via Olivia Newton John and was completely won over by that haunting theme song “Xanadu” (it also made popular the songs “Magic” and “Suddenly”). The second part of this appeal has to do with what is considered by many to be the greatest movie ever made. I first saw this movie when I was in college (the second time) in Dr. Brant Harwells English Literature class. We did a few weeks on classic movies and he showed us Orson Wells “Citizen Cane.” I loved the movie and was fascinated by the main characters home called Xanadu. Xanadu is a metaphor for splendor and opulence. Those two influences primed me to love this poem. I’ll spare you all the lines from this 214 year old poem, but here are a few of my favorites. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight’t would win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caverns of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Upon This Rock

Day 147 (Written Monday May 7) ~ I collect rocks. Before you judge me crazy, consider that many of you do too, especially you ladies (what are most jewels but polished rocks?). In my desk I have a collection of small rocks that I keep with me to remind me of things I loved. The first rock is actually a piece of coral that I brought with me from the Caribbean Sea on our trip to St. Martin. It was the first time, after many years of dreaming, that I got to see the Caribbean. The second came from the Appalachian Trail on the Tennessee/North Carolina border. It was one of the most amazing and beautiful views I’d ever seen and I wanted something to commemorate it. The next one came from High Rock where I met Her when I was 17. For the last thirteen years I have lived within a mile of that spot. I passed it everyday on my way to and from work. I always want to keep a small part of that place with me because it was the place where my life turned down the path to true happiness. The next rock comes from the courtyard of Jackson Square in front of St. Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Again, if you’ve read any of my blogs, no explanation needed. The most recent addition to my collection of rocks is one that I took from Chicken Creek. Everyday for ten years I looked at that creek and I wanted to have it with me when I came to Georgia. This brings me to the seven very special rocks I loaded onto the moving truck right before pulling out of the driveway. Today, just before my mom, dad and mother in law left to go back to Tennessee, I asked them to participate with the four of us in a ceremony meant to turn the page on our past life and prepare us for the beginning of our new one. I took seven rocks from Chicken Creek and gave one to each of us. The first three were for my parents and mother in law. They represented the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. I had each of them lay their rocks down side by side in our flower garden in the backyard. Because they symbolized the Father, Son and Holy Spirit they served as the foundation for our monument and represented the foundation upon which our home is built. I had our parents put them down because they were the foundation for our lives. Our home is built upon our parents and upon our faith. The next two stones were put down on top of them by She and I. They represented the two of us and the the life we have built together. The final two were given to our sons and were placed by them on top of our two. They represented the two of them and the fact that their lives are built upon us and our faith. I explained to them that one day, whenever they leave our home and begin their own, they will each take their rock and use it for a monument in their own homes. At the conclusion of the ceremony I read passages from Joshua 4 where God commanded the children of Israel to take rocks form the Jordan River and build a monument to serve as a memorial to them of what God had done for them in bringing them to the Promised Land. It would be a conversation piece for their children and children’s children who would ask what it meant. And hopefully it will do the same for mine.

Daycation

Day 151 (Written Friday May 11) ~

A nice long vacation can do wonders for whatever ails you. As wonderful as seven days by the sea or up in the mountains might be, you can’t always take a week to unwind. Those opportunities usually only come once or twice a year, but the need for a little R & R almost always comes more often. This is the situation the Brittons found themselves in today. The last several months have been busy, filled with thousands of miles of traveling and the stress of relocating. This week we have been getting the house set up, unpacked and organized. Monday I will begin working at Latin American Missions full time, the next three months will be much more travels (Tennessee, Alabama, South Carolina, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Panama), so that leaves us with today. It would be fun to take a week long vacation, but we don’t have a week, we have today, so instead of a vacation, we decided to take a daycation. One day, not even twenty-four hours, to rest, relax, unwind and have fun. A lot of people would have opted for a staycation (stay at home vacation), but not the Brittons, we are a restless and rambling bunch. The alarm went off at 5:30 am and we were out the door and on the road at 6:26. Our decided destination was Seaside, Florida. If you don’t know about this town, you need to learn quickly. I grew up going to Panama City Beach (the Redneck Riviera) and Destin, but since adulthood, Seaside has been our favorite destination. No high rise condos, no go carts, no mini golf, just a picturesque, perfectly manicured village by the sea. It looks like a town right out of the movies (which it sort of is, since it was the setting of the Jim Cary movie, The Truman Show). I’ve lived 36 years of my life over seven hours away from the Gulf Coast, now I live one and a half. Seaside is actually three hours away, but that is plenty close enough for a daycation. Some of you may be thinking that is too far for a one day trip, but you must understand the Brittons can do a four hour drive like its a ride to the grocery store down the street. Both of my boys spent many long hours on the road beginning when they were babies. You throw the word beach in the sentence and three hours isn’t even an issue. We arrived in Seaside at 9:00 am (we went from Eastern to Central time zone) and decided to walk around the shops for a little while before heading to the water. Our first stop is my favorite store in all of Seaside, the book/record store. Downstairs is a bookstore and upstairs is a record shop, selling both new and used vinyl. I told Po that the guy running it has a dream job, selling records looking out over the ocean. Nice way to begin the day. Next we decided to hit the shore. The weather was perfect, not too hot, the water was crystal clear and calm. We sat and looked at the ocean, buried Po in the sand, waded out into the water and of course, dozed off. Some of us listened to music, some of us read books and some of us did nothing. The beach portion of the day ended in a very interesting way. A couple had been sitting ten feet from us most of the day. We had noticed them, but paid no attention to them. While we were getting ready to leave Jade pointed out how beautiful she was and how, not beautiful, he was. She said he looked like an old rocker and she must have been a groupie. When she said that it clicked in my mind why the guy looked familiar. It was 70’s shock rocker Alice Cooper. He looks a little older and fatter than I remembered, but it was him. The oldest and Po went over to him and asked if they could get a picture which he gladly did. He was very nice to them and we took off to Seagrove Market for shrimp po boys (some of the best we’ve had anywhere). With our day at the beach behind us, we decided to head back home, but we were going to take the scenic route. We drove back toward Lake Park along the Florida coast. Mexico Beach, Bay Saint Joseph, Appalachicola, Summer Camp Beach, and Panacea. It was nice to see parts of the coast I had never seen before, and even nicer to have nowhere to be and no regard for the clock whatsoever. We took the long way home because we were in no hurry. We spent the next three hours with the windows rolled down, the wind blowing through our hair and smelling the fresh air of pine trees and sea breezes. I got to see a nice sunset over the water too before stopping in Tallahassee for some good Cajun food at Coosh’s Bayou Rouge. They have Abita Root Beer! We pulled into the driveway near midnight, sunburned, exhausted, covered in salt and sand, but relaxed, happy and thankful. I doubt we will be able to take a week long vacation this year, but I have no doubt we will be enjoying another daycation before this year is over. We’ve seen the Gulf already, so I’m thinking maybe the Atlantic next.