36, Day 71 (Written Tuesday February 21) ~ There is no day quite like Fat Tuesday in New Orleans. In the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday you hear "Happy Mardi Gras" more often than you hear "Merry Christmas" in December. Perhaps it's because not everyone celebrates Christmas, but in New Orleans, everyone celebrates Mardi Gras. It's like Chrismas, the Fourth of July, New Years Eve and your birthday all rolled up into one.
We were fortunate to have two locals to serve as tour guides for us for the days festivities, which began at 6:00 am. We had to be on St. Charles Avenue, one block West of Canal Street, by 8:30 when the first parade was scheduled to begin. There were three parades scheduled, the final three after dozens of parades for nearly a month. It all began with Zulu, followed by Rex and endging with the Krewe of Orleans, known locally as the trucks parade (because it is made up of nearly 100 eighteen wheelers filled with people throwing beads).
Zulu was the most amazing parade I've ever seen. It lasts for such a long time, nearly 2 and a half hours, was filled with dozens of marching bands from all over the country and featuring some of the most ornately decorated floats and people. We were able to watch the parade from a balcony and also from street level. If you aren't familiar with the Mardi Gras Krewes, each organization has their own parades and they throw all sorts of souvenirs bearing their names, logos and mascots. Some of the more famous Krewes will also throw a special, limited item, that everybody wants to catch. The Krewe of Muses throws hand decorated high heeled shoes (they are an all female Krewe). We were not able to get one of those unfortunately. Zulu, most of whose members dress in African tribal and warrior costumes, throw hand decorated coconuts. When their parade begins to roll, everyone in New Orleans (nearly 2 milllion people in total watching the parades), screams to the parade participants to "Throw me a coconut." We had as our goal to come home with a great souvenir, a Zulu coconut. We cought 14!!!! We had made a really clever sign to hold up and everybody loved it, including the Zulu riders. So they all tried their best to thrown us a coconut when they went by (bear in mind there are 60 floats). The people around us were stunned at how many we were able to catch. Our local hosts told us they had never heard of anyone getting anywhere near that many coconuts.
When you hear Mardi Gras you probably have a picture in your mind that just isn't reality. It was a fun, festive, family atmosphere where an entire city, all walks of life, ages, races, social classes, stopped for a few hours to celebrate being alive. We had as much fun as we ever have. Perhaps you are thinking that we are nuts, and you'd be right.....coconuts!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Marigny Monday Mornings
36, Day 70 (Written Monday February 20) ~ When most people think of New Orleans they think of the French Quarter or more specifically, Bourbon Street. This morning we had the absolute joy of exploring another part that was new to us, far from the tourist attractions and what many would consider the real New Orleans, the Faubourg Marigny. Faubourg basically translates as neighborhood and Marigny is taken from the name of the owner of the plantation where the neighborhood now stands.
This morning we got up and with the help of our local hosts (the Heuter's), went for a long an rewarding walk through the Marigny. They took us to one of the few local cafe's for breakfast, then to a local bookstore/coffee house/hang out for some quiet time, then for a walk to look at all of the beautiful houses. It was a peaceful, informative and fun way to spend a the Monday before Mardi Gras. We stopped by Hubigs (locally, made fresh daily fried pies with seasonal ingredients) where I got a cool t shirt and FREE pies! Hubigs is a block away from the house where we stayed and when you got up in the mornings you could smell the pies cooking. Glorious. The entire neighborhood has its own style, yet each house is completely unique and an expression of the very unique and creative people who occupy them. This was a side of New Orleans that few visitors have the joy of seeing, but it is the heart and soul of the city. Thanks to the Heuter's for sharing it with us.
Worshipping In Black And White
36, Day 69 (Written Sunday February 19) ~ Sometimes the deep South gets a bad rap from the rest of the country, and the world for that matter. Traditionally we have been stereotyped as racist and backwards. Granted, the South has suffered from some horrible race relations historically, and things aren't what they should be (I doubt they will ever be perfect), but thanks to Christianity, they are much better than often getting credit.
In the New Testament era there were race/social problems as well. Jew/Gentile, slave/free person conflicts occupy a great deal of the New Testament writings. Critics have often attacked the Scriptures for not attacking slavery and race relations head on, which sounds good in a hypothetical argument, but in actuality would have likely resulted in riots and violence that would have greatly injured the cause of Christ. Instead, the wisdom of God brought about the destruction of these problems in their generation by teaching disciples of Christ to love one another, to esteem others better than yourselves, that being a servant is the path to greatness and that forgiveness is necessary when we wrong one another. Christianity attacked slavery in a non-violent, long lasting way by teaching us how we are supposed to treat other humans.
Fast forward to today. Slavery is no longer an issue in our country, due in part to the teachings of Christianity changing the hearts of men. Racism, well that's another story. It is alive and well, not just in the South, but all over. If it is to be diminished it will not be because of government mandates, quotas or laws, but because hearts are changed from fear, misunderstanding and hatred, to love, compassion, understanding and forgiveness. All of which ware byproducts of Christianity.
I will offer this disclaimer, in many places the church is still infected with racism, some overtly, other more subtly. This past week has been a refreshing week of worship as I have visited four congregations in two southern states (Louisiana and Florida) where the congregations membership was "mixed" (black and white). Standing in the pulpit, looking over the assembly it was refreshing and beautiful to see, not just a black family or a hispanic person, but a congregation that was truly racially/ethnically diverse. Back home many Christians speak in terms of "our" churches and "their" churches, meaning white, black, hispanic, etc, congregations. What a blessing to be with so many families of Christian brothers and sisters first, without regard to our skin color. A great reminder that "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world."
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Special Needs Children
Praying for her today I began to think of the many children like Taylor that I have known through the years. Children we refer to as "special needs." As a parent I have never faced the challenges that many parents do, but we have been blessed to have friends whose children are special need children. If you have ever had the opportunity to move beyond the initial shock, awkwardness of not knowing how to act, what to say, what not to say, and just gotten to know these children, then you have been blessed to learn why we call them "special needs."
I believe we call them special needs children because we "normal" people have special needs that only these children can provide, teach and meet. We need to be more patient in life and learn that the world doesn't revolve around us and that we need to learn to wait rather than expecting and demanding. We need to be more appreciative of the blessings that surround us every single day of our lives, rather than taking our health, our freedom, our prosperity, our family, our friends, our jobs for granted. We need to be more innocent and childlike in our lives, taking time to be bewildered, fascinated, amazed and entertained by the simple, yet beautiful and elegant things that are all around us, seeing the good instead of the bad. We need to be forgiving insted of holding grudged, staying mad, getting so easily offended and focusing on our hurts instead of healing. We need to be brave enough to face challenged, overcome obstacles, press through adversity and grow stronger with each difficulty, instead of shirking back in fear or intimidation when things don't come easy. We need to learn these things by watching them be these things (patient, appreciative, innocent, forgiving, brave). They are special because we need them to teach us by example how to be what God intended for his children to be.
Cajun Country
36, Day 67 (Written Friday February 17) ~ After a couple of days in New Orleans (we will be back Sunday night), we headed south this afternoon to Houma, Louisiana (pronounced Home-uh). Houma is right next to Thibodeaux and is located in the Atchafalaya Basin. This is the heart of Cajun country. Those of you familiar with Swamp People on the history channel, this is where R.J. and Jay Paul Molinere live. And those of you familiar with me know that I am in cochon (Cajun for hog) heaven.
We got into town just as their local Mardi Gras parade was beginning, checked into our hotel, and then met with David and Kathy Jones for supper. Kathy was the secretary at the Memphis School of Preaching when I was a student and David was my teacher for the book of Luke. They work with the Hollywood Road congregation here in Houma, or as David calls it, paradise. They took us to Boudreaux and Thibodeauxs Cajun Kitchen for supper last night. I opted to wear my Saints hat instead of my Alabama hat, and I'm glad I did. Wall to wall LSU fans, with piles of crawfish in front of them, filled the place. We had crawfish po boys, boild crawfish (Jade tried one but decided she can live without them), oysters, catfish, shrimp and gumbo. What a meal. I could sit and listen to the locals talk all day. I love their accents, and Jade swears that when I'm around them I start to imitate them when I talk. I told ya'll, I was born in the wrong state. I ate a pound of crawfish, but pretty much every other table had five pound buckets, and usually shrimp to go with it. These people love to eat, and if it crawls, swims or flies, it's fair game.
I love New Orleans, but it is so much different from the rest of Louisiana. The people here hunt, fish, trap, farm and they love life. They call it the "joie de vivre" (the joy of living), and I can completely understand why.
(Yes he's real. 12 feet long, killed for stealing pigs from a farm).
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I See My Future In The Rearview Mirror
36, Day 66 (Written Wednesday February 15) ~ 4:00 am wake up call. 6:00 am departure. We have two weeks worth of our lives packed into our little mini-van (I can almost hear her chanting, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can). It is all worth it though for days like today.
In a previous blog I told you all about Marvin and Miss Diane Cooper, who were the catalyst for my love of all things Louisiana. From the time I was 14 until I was 21 there were few weeks that went by where I wasn't at their house and eating at their table. They were like a second family. Sadly, life is constantly in motion and it eventually moved us away from them. In fact I hadn't seen Marvin and Diane in 15 years, that is, until today.
While driving to New Orleans we decided to make a little detour to Whynot, Mississippi (no joke). Marvin is a preacher in this tiny town and we stopped by for a surprise visit. It was so good to see them after all of these years and they haven't changed a bit. Marvin is still just as enthusiastic in everything he tells you as he ever was and Miss Diane is, as always, one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet. And, surprise, surprise, she was cooking. It wasn't her gumbo, but it was some delicious beef tips that she shared with us (along with bags of cookies and chips and everything else she could find). I hope it's not another 15 years before I get to see them again, but this brief little visit was food for the soul (not chicken soup, gumbo).
Non-Traditional Traditions
36, Day 65 (Written Tuesday February 14) ~ You've heard me explain before how our family is very non-traditional in our traditions, and this year's Valentine's Day was no exception. We don't do a dozen roses, stuffed animals, candy, etc. I should state up front that Jade and I truly do try to make every day our Valentine's Day. We don't always succeed, but most of the time we do. We give gifts, cards, calls, flowers, cook, have romantic getaways, etc, etc, etc. Of course mixed in with all of that is miscommunication, disappointment, frustration, etc, etc, etc. However, the negatives are the exception rather than the rule.
This year was a partial recreation of our first Valentine's Day together. The night of February 14, 1994, Jade came over to my parents house where I had set up a little round table in front of the bay window with candle light and white table cloth. I cooked her angel hair pasta with alfredo sauce and chicken parmesan, with garlic bread. On the table was a fancy glass (I'm sure it has a fancy name, but I don't know what it is) with a rose floating in water. We had just turned 18 and were madly in love and it was the first time I remember actually feeling like an adult. We had a wonderful night that still hasn't ended 18 years later.
Tonight our big fancy Valentine's Day involved us getting in bed at 5:00 pm and taking a 2 hour nap together, after which I got up and cooked her chicken parmesan, angel hair pasta with alfredo sauce, and garlic bread. A few weeks earlier I had gotten her some decorative dish towels she wanted for the new house and some Vera Bradley stuff she wanted, but tonight was just us doing what we started nearly two decades ago, just being together eating good food. The only thing I wanted to do that night was make her feel more loved than she ever had and to let her know how much I wanted her in my life and that is still all I want to do. Our tradition has become showing each other everyday that the love of the other is the greatest gift of all.
Keep It Between The Lines
36, Day 64 (Written Monday February 13) ~ The title of today's blog comes from an old country song, but for me it comes from my grandaddy Richard. Just as my grandaddy Sam never said goodbye, but instead opted for "Toddlie doodlie", my grandaddy Richard always said goodbye with the expression, "Keep it between the lines." At the risk of insulting your intelligence, let me explain that this expression refers to the lines on the road and the fact you need to keep your car between them when driving (my family always tells me that I over explain everything). This was a very appropriate comment for him because for 30 years he was a traveling salesman. He would leave early Monday morning and head out to Kentucky, Georgia, Arkansas, Mississippi (thanks to Jade for teaching me the Mis-sis-sippi song for spelling purposes), Florida, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Alabama, all over the South, and not return until Friday evening.
Lately I have found myself thinking about him a lot, and relating to him, perhaps more than I ever have. My job now takes me all over the country all the time. I think about him while I'm driving and imagine him traveling down these very same roads. As strange as it may seem, it makes me feel closer to him, able to relate to him. The funny thing is, I noticed the other day while cruising down the interstate that I drive like him. He used to have this lean that he did when driving for more than a few miles and I realized the other day that I do it too. After talking with my memaw I learned that I have another thing I do in restaurants that he always did as well.
I can do a 500 mile drive like it's nothing after making 6 of them in the last few weeks. This year isn't even two months old and we're are 6,000 miles in. I have literally spent six times as many nights in hotel beds as my own bed this month, and we're just getting started. We have entire months planned where we will be "home" (wherever that is currently, Chicken Creek Road or Lake Park, Georgia?) less than one week. Don't misunderstand this as complaining, in fact it is the opposite. We are loving every minute of it. We are seeing the country, meeting amazing people, speaking in strong, committed churches and making so many new friends. We chose this life because it fits us.
This is where I am different from my grandfather. I don't think he enjoyed his travels and being away from home so much, but he had to make a living and take care of his family, which he dutifully did. Also unlike him, I get to do most of my traveling with my family. Even as I sit in this hotel room writing this I am looking at my wife taking care of her business and my sons doing their school work. Even though I am 500 miles from my house (either one, Pulaski or Lake Park), I am at home. Grandaddy Richard has been gone for awhile now and I miss him so much, but when driving down the road I keep it between the lines just like he told me to, and doesn't seem so far away.
What Goes Up, Must Come Down
36, Day 63 (Written Sunday February 12) ~ Gravity. It is one unmerciful, unbiased, constant in life. What goes up must come down. Today my ego/self esteem/pride went up this morning and almost as quickly came crashing down to earth like a meteor streaking across the sky: glowing and beautiful for a moment only to flame out and drop like a rock. Let me explain.
(Warning: the following account may cause you to have disappointment in me as it will reveal truth about me that is not necessarily a positive, but I vowed in this blog I would tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, regardless of how it makes me look at times).
We have liftoff. This morning during worship at the West Huntsville Church of Christ they announced the death of one of their elderly members. She died yesterday. After worship someone pointed out her husband in the assembly. His wife died yesterday, but he was in worship this morning (kind of makes you feel terrible about all the times you've missed worship because you didn't 'feel good' doesn't it?). I recognized him and have talked with him many times over the years as I've visited West Huntsville. I approached him and we started talking and I told him I was sorry for his loss. He was in his 80's and his faith showed its maturity in his next statement. "I am as happy as I have ever been. My wife is in heaven, she was a good wife to me and she isn't in pain anymore. She would feel sorry for us for still having to be here." That is why I am a Christian, and he went on to explain that if it wasn't for the things he knew because of his faith he wouldn't even be able to get out of bed. We talked and talked until everyone was gone except the people who locked the building. We had been invited by friends to join them at the mall food court for lunch and it was getting late, but he obviously didn't want to stop talking. I could tell he was so lonely today. I'm sure the thought of going to his empty house was more than he could stand. So, I invited him to join us for lunch. I laughed when he asked where the mall was, so my oldest son rode with him to make sure he arrived. I had been blessed by someone earlier that day so I decided to be a blessing to him, and bought his lunch. We finished lunch and I got back into the van feeling pretty good about myself for a good deed done.
Houston we have a problem. The first thing you need to know is that the subject of my sermon this morning was Mark 6 and how what was supposed to be a day off for Jesus and the apostles, turned into an all day event serving multiple thousands of people. At the end of the day the disciples told Jesus to send the people away to go get something to eat. I wonder if they were thinking like me? We've done our good deed for the day (working and serving strangers on our day off), now we're off the clock. Jesus said no, you feed them. They begin to make excuses like there is nowhere to buy food and even if there were, we don't have enough money to buy food for all of these people. They didn't want to be inconvenienced anymore. These people were not their problem. They should have thought to bring their own food. They can go find their own food. Even if it was up to us, we don't have the ability to meet their needs. The point was that when opportunities to serve and help to meet the needs of others arise, Jesus does not want us to pass it off to someone else, but to do something about it ourselves. Immediately after leaving the mall, we went to Michaels to look for some stuff to use at a youth event next weekend. While looking at some things outside, a man approaches me and says he's homeless and on his way back to his hometown and that a church had bought him a bus ticket but he didn't have any money.
Before going further you need to know that a little while back I made a decision that I was going to help people who asked for it without making excuses. Years of working with churches has brought me in contact with tons of con artists and lazy bums who want others to pay their bills and support them. Almost always I have passed them off to the benevolence deacon at the church (you know, it's his problem to deal with, not mine). But since I'm not with a local congregation, I decided I need to do it myself. I've always dismissed most of these people as probably conning me, probably an alcoholic or drug addict looking for a fix, if they've got money for cigarettes they could have money for food, etc, etc, etc. You know the excuses because you probably have made them too. Anyway, I decided no more excuses. Funny how God seems to put your declarations to the test. The next day a man approached me in a Valdosta parking lot. I was literally on my way to watch Alabama play in the national championship game at a friends house, but I thought, God is giving me an opportunity to put my money where my faith is, so I had the guy and his wife follow me to a grocery store and I bought them some groceries. A couple of days later we were driving around in our new home town (which borders the interstate) and came across a man holding a sign asking for food. We pulled into Arby's bought some food and took it to him (although I nearly scared him to death because the trucks on the interstate were so loud he didn't hear me approaching from behind and I almost gave him a heart attack when I touched his shoulder). Brandon 2, Selfishness/laziness 0. Back to reality.
The inevitable crash. The man at Michael's tells me his story, asks for help and I tell him, truthfully, that I don't have any cash or I would gladly help him. He says thanks and walks off. I felt bad, but what could I do, I didn't have any money on me to give him. Twenty minutes later, walking through Michael's the sermon I HAD JUST PREACHED began to prick my heart. I had just done everything the apostles did and pleaded with the audience not to do. I had already done a good deed that day. This person needed help, but I knew others had already helped him with a bus ticket (somebody else's problem) and although I would have liked to have helped I didn't have any cash (excuses for why I can't help). I could have used my check card to get cash back or I could have gone to a nearby restaurant or ATM, but I didn't. Instead, I did exactly what I said we shouldn't do.
Lesson learned. Preacher humbled. Forgiveness asked. Prayer offered. Encouragement received. If Jesus can get dead Lazarus up from lying in a grave, He can help pick me back up after my faith crashed and burned.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
What If....
36, Day 62 (Written Saturday February 11) ~ What if we stopped worrying about what other people thought of us and starting working on becoming the person we think we should be? What if we bit our tongues when we are frustrated instead of biting the heads off of those who frustrated us? What if we spoke up when we heard someone say something racist, hateful, slanderous or deceitful instead of pretending we didn't hear anything or repeating it? What if we were more worried about pleasing God that impressing or disappointing God's people? What if we spent the same amount of money on doing God's work as we do on our entertainment? What if we looked for things to praise in others instead of things to criticize?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
MENistry
36, Day 61 (Written Friday February 10) ~ I've been to Men's Days, Youth Days, Youth Retreats, Marriage Retreats, Lectureships, Gospel Meetings, Bible Camps, Lectureships and Mission Trips, but today was a first for me. I had the privilege of attending a men's retreat with the West Huntsville Church of Christ at Camp Ne Yot Ti in Guntersville, Alabama.
First off, the guys were all amazing. I was so impressed with their spiritual knowledge and focus. We talked about sports and technology and other typical guy stuff, but we also sat around talking about important stuff too. Too often at spiritual events, the spiritual part takes a backseat to the "fun." Not so with these guys.
A second great part was the food. They told me there were a couple of rules: #1 this is not a ladies retreat so no decorations, doilies, lacy/frilly things, no gifts and no chicken salad sandwiches. We at NY Strip steaks and baked potatoes. Man food.
A third great part was the singing. I haven't been in an all male gospel singing session since my days at the Memphis School of Preaching. It was a bit stunning how powerful the voices of thirty plus men could be. We had no song books or song leaders, just each of us spontaneously starting a song and the rest joining in. It was an empowering experience.
This was my first mens retreat, but I certainly hope it won't be my last.
If You Don't Like Your Life, Change It
36, Day 60 (Written Thursday February 9) ~ One of the most frequently repeated comments I have heard lately from people who learn what we are doing is, "I wish I could do something like that." (In case you are wondering, the other most commonly repeated statement is, "You have lost your mind.") I have talked with a lot of people who are not happy with where their lives are or where they are going. They are going through the motions, making a living, paying the bills, getting by, passing the time. Been there, done that, nearly lost my mind.
At this stage in my life one of the greatest regrets I have is that I didn't have the courage to do what I really wanted to do sooner. I had my ever ready bag of excuses: I want my kids to grow up the way I did....I've got a lot of things that I want to accomplish first.....the timing just isn't right.....when the boys get a little bit older then I will.....etc, etc, etc. Truth is, those were just excuses for not being brave enough to change what I didn't like. I had, and perhaps you have, a stirring deep down in my heart that repeatedly surfaced, but I was always able to bury it underneath entertainment, work, family commitments, etc, etc, etc. Recently I have been blessed to meet some truly amazing people who refuse to live this way. They are risk takers, dreamers, doers and people who are busy making things happen instead of debating with others all of the potential objections, obstacles and reasons why they can't or shouldn't. People like this make it impossible to be content with a "normal" life.
If you are reading this and you are one of those people who have been saying "I wish..." for far too long, stop wishing and start doing. Wouldn't you rather fail doing something that succeed in doing nothing? I once read a book with the chilling and challenging quote, "This is your life, and it's ending one second at a time." If you don't like your life change it.
The Kids Are Alright
36, Day 59 (Written Wednesday February 8) ~ Today was such a wonderful day. I got a glimpse of the future that I wondered about 10 years ago. At that time I was a young (26) year old preacher who taught the high school Bible class on Sundays and Wednesdays. It was always an awesome, jam packed class. I loved hanging out with the kids (perhaps because I wasn't very far removed from them). I taught them at church and then they hung out with my family when we weren't at church. It's hard to say just how many of them there were because kids would come and go, but there was a core group that was always around. We had devotionals together, went on stateside mission trips together, went to the movies together, hung out at our house together, ate lunch together, went to haunted houses together. I never quite knew how I felt about them. Were they my youth group, were they my friends, were they like my kids. I guess they were a little of all three. They were also good kids. They weren't perfect, on more than one occasion they called me and my wife asking for help or advice getting out of sticky situations. But they were good kids. Even when they weren't with my family, they together. They were a group of friends with a core group of 5 kids, with as many as 5 others that came in and out of the group. At times back then I wondered what they would be like when they grew up, what they would become and how their lives would turn out. I don't have to wonder anymore.
Recently I have spent time with all of them, and they are all adults now. They are bonafide grown ups, out of college, working jobs, having their first homes/apartments and they are doing great. Their lives aren't perfect (whose is?), but they are happy, productive and successful. They haven't fully become what they will, but they are on their way. They have achieved goals and chased dreams and changed plans, faced reality and had their hearts broken. They are married, dating, single (no babies yet, but a foster/surrogate dad/big brother can dream). It's still hard for me to see them and think of them as adults, but that is what they are. When I met them they were younger than my youngest child is now. Their stories have not been fully told and I'm not the one to tell it anyway. I won't tell you who they are (they know who they are, and if you know me very well, you likely know who they are too), but I do want to tell you and them I'm so proud of them. The kids are alright.
These Are The People In My Neighborhood
36, Day 58 (Written Tuesday February 7) ~ I've spent the past couple of days in a new neighborhood. There are no houses or streets, but I've had dozens of neighbors. This neighborhood was housed in Bader Gymnasium on the campus of Freed Hardeman University. My neighbors were the many missionaries who were gathered there to introduce brethren to their works scattered throughout the world.
I spent time with an 81 year old man who is doing work in Nigeria. He's been a missionary for nearly forty years. Before that he was a youth minister at a church with over 3,000 members. He had a youth group with 650 members. His Sunday morning Bible class had 85 senior high students. However, when he met a Nigerian man who had converted himself through studying the Scriptures, he began helping him save his countrymen. Though his wife has dementia and has to sit most of the time in a wheelchair, she was right by his side (as she has been for over sixty years) as he stood nearly 8 hours a day talking to everyone who passed by. I imagine he will die while working for Nigeria.
I hung out with a 29 year old who has done mission work in over 20 countries on every continent but Antarctica. He has been robbed, beaten, stabbed, shot at and present when 3 others were murdered, yet he refuses to stop. He is also a youth minister and aspires to be a documentary film maker focusing on showing others what life is like on the mission field. Lord willing, I will spend a week with him in Nigeria this summer and hopefully film a documentary on the work of Latin American Missions in that country.
I had some fascinating conversations with a man who was raised on the mission field. His father has done mission work, beginning in Panama, for over forty years. At age 6 he was running around the San Blas Islands with his dad on missionary campaigns. Guess what that little boy is doing now? He's a missionary himself. He's not just a missionary, he's also an author of several books, a couple of which I almost guarantee you that you have read with your child if they have obeyed the Gospel.
I got to know a Christian college Bible professor who has a heart for training young men to be preachers, which he does at the college level and through future preacher training camps for young men. Although his schedule is bursting at the seams with obligations, he branched out to countries in Central and South America to begin future preacher camps for those kids too.
I sat and listened to sermons with a man who, after serving his country in the military and his Lord in the pulpit, has now dedicated his life to helping orphaned, abandoned, abused and neglected children in Panama. His life revolves around overseeing their care and raising the money to provide for them.
I ate several meals with a man who has been working in 9 countries in Central and South America for over 30 years. His passion is training those men to be preachers in their native countries. He's back and forth between North, Central and South America all throughout the year and all over this country in between. He's tireless in his pursuit of helping to reach and teach those people.
A lot of people use their platforms to write up and write about those they deem to be detrimental or dangerous, but I want to use mine to tell you about the people in my neighborhood who are doing things most people can't even dream about. These are men who are brilliant, driven and immensely talented. If they chose to do so, they could have tremendous success in the business or secular world, yet they have chosen to use their talents to honor God and serve others. Won't you be my neighbor?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
We Call Him Po
36, Day 57 (Written Monday February 6)
His name is Kase, but we all call him Po. When he was just old enough to pull himself up and stand, he would pat the TV with his hand and repeat the word "Po, Po, Po." His favorite thing to watch was the Teletubbies (glad he outgrew that), and one of the characters was named Po. He did it so often we just started calling him Po-Po. That was fourteen years ago, just a blink of the eye for me, but a lifetime for him.
Po is one of the most amazing, Christ-like, spiritually minded and pure people I have ever known. He's not without flaws, but his certainly are fewer and less obvious than his daddy's. Most of the times you think of the parents influencing the children to be better people, but with Po it is the opposite. He makes me a better person. Even in a crowd, whether it is his friends, grown ups or strangers, this young man is not afraid to go against the grain to speak out and stand his ground on what he believes is right. Amazingly, his personality wasn't always this outgoing.
Until Po was about ten he was VERY shy. I cannot emphasize this enough. Whenever people would ask him his name or how old he was, he would stand behind his brother and nudge him. Reese would then say, "His name is Kase. He's seven." Kase was scared of his own shadow and wouldn't venture two feet away from his "bubby" (brother). Ironically, about the time we started home schooling (you know that thing that causes kids to be under socialized, wink, wink), he came out of his shell. Po is shy no mo. In fact, I would say he is now our outgoing child, and he is hilarious. Po loves to act out characters and silly voices and he has a sharp, dry sense of humor with a quick wit.
The first time I really realized how strong his will and conviction could be was when he wanted to be baptized at age 10. I thought he was too young, way too young. I did not believe he was a sinner or that he was lost. I tried every gentle dissuasion that I could but he wouldn't budge or wait for anything. We talked and talked and talked until it was after midnight. Finally, he stood up to me, for the first time in his life. He said, "Daddy I'm not going to bed until you baptize me." My reaction was, if this little boy has the courage and determination to respectfully stand up to his daddy, then he's ready to obey his Father. I didn't see him as a sinner, but that is what he believed about himself, who was I to stand in his way. So that night, about 1:00 am, I baptized him in our bathtub. He isn't afraid to stand up to anyone when it comes to something he believes in.
One of my favorite things about Po is that he is a dreamer. He will be quiet for long periods of time, because he is thinking, not because he is shy, and suddenly come out with some great idea. He has big plans (Memphis School of Preaching, Freed Hardeman University, youth minister/licensed professional counselor and missionary) and dreams big too. I love that.
This week we've been at the Freed Hardeman University lectureship, working and talking to people about Latin American Missions. Po has been working right along side me. He talks to people, gives them our literature, answers their questions and encourages them to go with us on a campaign or support the work. I've been so proud as a dad to watch him and impressed as a person to be around him. His name is Po but he has made our lives rich.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Love Is...
36, Day 56 (Written Sunday February 5)
As a dad it is my job to teach my two sons how to love. Somewhere in the world right now there are two young ladies who are depending upon me. There is a good chance they don't know me and that we haven't even met. There is so much about them that I don't know, but there is one thing I do know: the type of husband they will have is almost entirely in my hands. I am raising the two boys who will be their husbands and how they will love their wives will be powerfully influenced and shaped by what I teach them and how I love their mother. They will learn how to love a wife by watching me love their mother. I must instill in them the truth that love is patient and kind, not envious, boastful or proud, does not dishonor, isn't selfish, or easily angered and doesn't keep a record of wrongs, it trusts, hopes and perseveres, and it never fails. I take this job very seriously.
Although it is my job to teach them how to love, they will have to discover on their own what it means to be in love. The best I can describe it is like this: Being in love is when you find yourself reading magazines that you have no interest in just because its something that she would read. Being in love is when you make the bed everyday, even though you don't care if it's made, just because you know she likes the bed to be warm when she gets in at night. Being in love is when you get excited doing mundane daily chores like dishes, laundry, cooking or cleaning the floors because you know it will make her day. Being in love is when you don't want to go to sleep at night because you just want to look at her. Being in love is when you want to make sure you both go to heaven to ensure you will never have to be without her again. Being in love is when the things she thinks are her flaws are beautiful to you because they are part of her. Being in love is when you no longer care if other guys think you are manly because you know that in her eyes you are "the man." Being in love is when she makes you breakfast and it makes you as happy as any gift you've ever received. Being in love is when people ask you what is the greatest moment in your life and you can't answer it because you have so many. Being in love is when you realize how many things she does for you everyday and you can't figure out how you ever made a woman like that love you that much. I can't teach these things to my sons. They will have to find someone on their own who makes them feel these things. But what I'm trying to do, with both word and example, is to teach them how to love the girl who makes them feel these things.
Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans?
36, Day 55 (Written Saturday February 4)
Those who know me know of my passion, or as a friend recently suggested, obsession, with all things Louisiana. I love Cajun food, music and people. I love New Orleans, its people, architecture, history. I record everything that comes on television that has to do with New Orleans, Cajuns or Louisiana. I read books about the same. I cook Cajun food in my home and can tell you any Cajun/Creole restaurant within 500 miles that is worth eating. I am trying to learn to speak Cajun and I visit the state every single opportunity I can. One day I will likely live there. Get the point yet. Most of my friends know all of this already, but you probably don't know why.
It all started when I was 15 years old and playing Babe Ruth baseball. One day at practice a new guy showed up to play on our team. His name was Jode Holden. He had a really funny accent that was at times difficult to understand. When I asked him where he was from he told me, "Twenny-five miles narth of N'awlins." I had no idea what he'd just said or where that was. We started to be good friends and hung out pretty often until eventually I spent the night at his house. His mom, Miss Diane, had cooked in restaurants much of her life, and his step dad Marvin, or "Troid" as they called him, worked on a river boat. When I stayed at their house his momma was always cooking and it was stuff I had never seen or heard of before, but it was so good. Things with names like gumbo and etouffee, with ingredients like shrimp, crawfish and andouille sausage. I loved eating at Miss Diane's table. To this day, she made the best gumbo I have ever eaten anywhere and I have eaten everybody's gumbo, everywhere and every way. I know it sounds crazy but I'd put a hundred dollar bill down right now for a pot of it (I haven't had it in 15 years).
The food lured me in, but the people stole my heart. A couple of times a year their friends and family would come up to Tennessee for a visit and then the fun would really begin. They would bring coolers full of fresh seafood (shrimp, blue crabs, oysters, crawfish) for feasts that were always backed by great music and lots of laughing and storytelling. Listening to them talk was an adventure. Their brogue was so hard it was difficult to understand them, and the ones who jumped back and forth between English and French were nearly impossible to comprehend. Everything they did and said seemed like a celebration of life. I've come to learn in the years since that they have an expression for it (they have an expression for everything), "joie de vivre" which means "the joy of living."
The week before Jade and I married I spent a week in Covington, Abita Springs, Mandeville and New Orleans, Louisiana. Being surrounded by those folks in their "native habitat" won me over forever. If it hadn't been for Jade waiting for me at the altar, I would have never come back. Since then I've devoured everything I could about Louisiana. The more I learned the more I loved. After we married Jade and I spent nearly every weekend at Marvin and Miss Diane's (they lived just a quarter mile down the road), eating and singing and laughing. She came to love these people and their culture as much as I do. Once I took her to New Orleans she was hooked to. It seems I've passed this passion on to my kids as well, especially Kase. I know when people think of New Orleans or Mardi Gras they only think of Bourbon Street or the immorality, but there truly is so much good to love about it. I tell people that New Orleans is no different than any other big city. You wouldn't want to define Nashville by Printers Alley and you shouldn't judge NOLA on Bourbon Street. New Orleans is as much about the Faubourg Marigny, Treme, Canal Street, Congo Square, Lake Pontchartrain, the Garden District, Tulane and Audobon Park and a thousand other things, as it is the debauchery. Do you know what is the best part of Louisiana? I will be there in ten days.
When Technology Is Not An Improvement
36, Day 54 (Written Friday February 3)
Most of the time technology makes our lives better or easier. Microwaves, cell phones, laparoscopic surgery. But there is one area where I think technology has failed to improve our experience....music. For thousands of years people made music with just their voice or their hands. Computers have made it possible for music to be made in a studio without instruments or to enhance the abilities of those in the studio. Honestly though, which do you remember more a perfectly crisp and flawless digitally enhanced studio star that was manipulated one second at a time by a studio engineer, or the raw, flawed performance of Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison? It's not perfection that makes music moving, it's the real, the rough, the raw that touches our soul. It could be the four part harmony of a group of bluegrass pickers, the twangy whine of Hank Williams or the electric fire of Jimmy Hendrix playing the Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock. What we love and what makes it memorable is that it is real. It is hearing someone put what is going on in their heart, their lives and their soul into our ears and letting us tap into it for three and a half minutes.
Another area where I feel technology has failed us musically is in how we listen to music. I will confess that I love what my iPod makes possible (every song and album I own in my pocket), but at the end of the day, what I want is vinyl, not digital. For nearly a century we listened to music live, or the next best thing, vinyl records. Within the last forty years our formats have changed repeatedly. Eight track, cassettes, compact disks, mp3. While these formats have made it more convenient to transport and listen to our music, they haven't improved the sound. I am a confessed vinyl record junkie. I love the crackles and the pops (although if you have a good record player you don't hear that) and the scratching of the needle. It makes you feel the record as if the music was something physical and not just audible. In my sons bedroom is my old record player and their rooms are filled with records we have collected together. There is nothing like the sound of music from a record so I introduced my sons to it as soon as they showed an interest in music. Since then we have made collecting records a hobby we share. One of our favorite things to do is scour yard sales, junk stores and record shops (yes they still exist, try Grimey's in Nashville or Pegasus Records in Florence, AL) for records on our wish list. The best part is you can get whole albums for less than a dollar. This has been a great way to introduce the boys to good old music and to take chances on something unsure without risking throwing away a bunch of money. They have learned to love Led Zeppelin, Little Feat, Faces, Humble Pie, Canned Heat, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers, Louis Armstrong, Etta James, Muddy Waters and countless other artists, the way they were intended to be heard. I can't tell you how excited we get digging through those dusty bins of records and running across an album we've been looking for, in some cases for years. It's almost like a treasure hunt for us. Whenever we go into a new city during our travels, one of the first things we do is look for a record store. We've found some really cool ones too. We scored some major treasures in Fort Wayne, Indiana, Chattanooga, Tennessee and perhaps our greatest single day of finds in a vintage clothing store on Saint Simons Island, Georgia. On our first trip to Valdosta we discovered one of our new favorites, Red Door Records, on the square in downtown, that is also a cafe/bike shop.
The rebirth of my love affair with records began with Marvin Cooper. Marvin is the step dad of Jode Holden, one of my best friends growing up. Marvin was from Louisiana and was always a lot of fun to be around. Marvin had what is to this day, the best collection of records I have personally ever seen. If it was from the 60's to the early 80's he had it. Not only that, but he had a phenomenal sound system to play them on. We spent countless hours from the time I was 16 until I was 21 listening to those records in their living room. Jode broke my heart a few weeks ago when he told me that Marvin had gotten rid of all those old records. Oh well, maybe I will run across them in a junk store some day with my boys and then we can listen to them together in our living room.
Why Christians Are Amazing (Volume 1): Hospitality
36, Day 53 (Written Thursday February 2)
People love to point out everything that is wrong with Christians, any shortcomings or failures we may have, some of which are deserved, but there are many more reasons why Christians are amazing. I'll just emphasize one of those today, hospitality.
Since 1997 I have been the beneficiary of the hospitality of my brothers and sisters in Christ. We have stayed in homes, some modest, some luxury, been fed meals, at their kitchen tables and in five star restaurants, been given gifts, some sentimental, some expensive. We've even had Christians provide us with places to stay for vacation. This hospitality has come from American and foreign Christians, black and white Christians and rich and poor Christians. Wherever I go I encounter brethren who open their homes and their lives to me and my family. They may be strangers, but they quickly become family, and as a result, lifelong friends.
Name That Tune
36, Day 52 (Written Wednesday February 1
One of my passions in life is music. Don't misunderstand, I don't play music, I cannot sing, but I love music. It all began, I'm embarrassed to admit this, with Poison, Bon Jovi and Def Leppard tapes I got for Christmas when I was about 12. Not long after I bought an M.C. Hammer tape (yes I said tapes, I was a good four years away from my first CD, do they even make those anymore?). Thankfully at age 14 I got a tape of The Door greatest hits and my musical taste began to improve. Not long after Bryan Beets gave me a Pearl Jam's "Ten" cd and then Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video hit and I finally developed a sense of style musically. Mixed in with all of this was my dad's Travis Tritt cd, a Clint Black tape and hours of 50's music. Put it all together and I learned to appreciate all types of music. When Jade and I met one of the things that we had in common was a love of music and we loved introducing one another to our unique musical favorites. We loved making each other mix tapes (remember those?). This has only grown since I've become an adult. I've learned to appreciate virtually all types of music (having a teenage music lover in the house helps keep me up to date on new music). I'd like to share with you a few bands/artists you may or may not have heard of, and if you haven't, you need to.
John Boutte is the second coming of Sam Cooke. He was born and raised and still lives in the Treme neighborhood of New Orleans and has a soft, yet powerful, raspy voice that is as smooth as a snake oil salesman. I don't really know how to classify his music, and in my opinion music that defies classification is often the best. If I had to pick one it might be contemporary jazz. He does old standards, folk songs and even hymns. For a good sample of his stuff, check out It Don't Cost Very Much, Treme, Washed My Hands In Muddy Water, Change Gonna Come and If I Had My Life To Live Over.
Adam Hood is a singer/songwriter from South Alabama. With him there is no pretense. His studio albums have full band accompaniment, but this guy is at his best with just his acoustic guitar. He's got that stereotypical hoarse, southern rock voice and his songs are completely relatable. They are full of heartbreak, long hours on the road far from home, and chasing dreams that seem to stay just out of reach. His albums are great, but unlike many musicians, his real talent is seen in his live performances. Check out songs like Coffee Song, I Wanna Be With You, Million Miles Away and Tuesday Night.
Brandi Carlile was a very pleasant discovery on a Saturday evening while grilling by the creek and listening to A Prairie Home Companion. She is somewhat like a female version of Adam Hood. All she needs to stop you in your tracks is her acoustic guitar and her sometimes cracking voice. She has the power to make you feel her pain when she sings. You will likely never hear her songs on the radio, but they are better than anything you will ever hear on pop radio. There are only three songs you need to hear to be hooked, Turpentine, Josephine and The Story, oh, let me tell you about The Story. "All of these lines upon my face, tell you the story of where I've been....but these stories don't mean anything, if you've got no one to tell them to, it's true, I was made for you." When she repeats this line in the second chorus and her voice cracks, it will make the hair stand up on the back of your neck and bring tears to your eyes. I challenge you to name a Britney Spears song that could ever do that.
Tegan And Sara are a sister act that should have been superstars in the early 80's. I ran across them when they opened for Paramore in Nashville a couple of years ago. I had never heard of them before that night and they hooked me instantly. Not just the music but the stage show as well. They sound like synth pop music from the 80's. I have to confess that I have a special place in my heart for that era and style of music, but these girls do it far better than The Buggles, Divo or Animotion ever did. If you are ever in the mood to time warp back to the days of day glo bracelets and parachute pants, turn on Crocodile Tears, Where Does The Good Go, Don't Rush or Back In Your Head. When you hear the line "Where do you go with your broken heart it tow, what do you do with the left over you, and how do you know when to let go, where does the good go, where does the good go" you will feel like a love sick seventh grader again and when the chorus comes in with "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive, look me in the heart and tell me you won't go" you will be glad you aren't a love sick seventh grader anymore.
Check out some of these artists on iTunes, Pandora or ask me and I'll gladly make you a cd, or better yet, a mix tape.
Wanna Get Away?
36, Day 51 (Written Tuesday January 31)
Arguably the greatest vacation we ever took was a Caribbean cruise. What an amazing week. The most beautiful islands, incredible food, so much fun and some good friends too. Not to mention a week alone with my wife. It was fantastic and I'd love to do it every year, but that's just not realistic. We may not be able to take a dream vacation whenever we want, but that doesn't mean we can't take some smaller, and lets be frank, cheaper, getaways. I wanted to share with you some of mine and Jade's favorite short term/weekend getaways that you might like to check out sometime. I'll start with the closest and go to the farthest.
The Stone Fort Inn in Chattanooga, Tennessee. This bed and breakfast is only a two hour drive from Pulaski, but it transports you to a whole other world. Located in downtown Chattanooga, and right between Miller Park, the riverfront, the Warehouse District and the Chattanooga Choo Choo, is this former bank turned hotel. Ironically, it is owned by a ninety year old woman whose grandfather was a dentist in Pulaski long ago. Our favorite room has a king sized antique bed, fireplace, private balcony with a hot tub, a claw foot tub in the bathroom and a French shower. What tops it off is the gourmet breakfast that is hands down the best breakfast I have ever eaten anywhere! The most fun part is it is served by an elderly gentleman named Claiborne who sings the menu to you each morning. We have spent several absolutely refreshing, wonderful weekends here, and go every chance we get.
The Seagrove Motel in Seaside, Florida. This motel is practically a time machine. It is located in the sleepy little town of Seagrove Beach/Seaside, halfway between Panama City and Destin, Florida. You may recognize the name of this town, as it was the town where the movie The Truman Show was filmed. In the movie it was meant to depict a perfect paradise, Norman Rockwell of a town, and it is. The most beautiful houses you can imagine, a picturesque town square, everything you could need within walking distance and all of this right beside the sea. Paradise. The Seagrove Motel is nothing fancy, but it looks like something right out of the 1950's, and I mean that in the nostalgic sense, not the old and outdated sense. There are maybe half a dozen bungalows facing the gulf, sitting atop a grassy bluff, complete with built in grills and hammocks. There is also a villa with an all glass front, that is set apart from the rest of the rooms. There are no condos here, no go cart tracks, miniature golf or night clubs. Just a quiet little village on the ocean. Every time we go I expect to stumble across Ernest Hemingway writing in a seaside cafe.
Place d'Armes in New Orleans, Louisiana. I have saved the best for last. This place is magic. It is in the heart of the French Quarter and surrounded by some amazing and historical places. Place d'Armes was formerly a weapons storage during the Civil War and one of the first public schools in America before that. The building was built in the 1700's and is located directly across the street from the Saint Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square. It is one block from Cafe du Monde (beignets and chicory coffee for breakfast every morning). It is on the same street as the Pontalba building, Americas first apartment building. Around the corner is Tujagues, the second oldest continually operational restaurant in America. A hundred feet away is Royal Street with its countless antique shops. There are two dozen other restaurants and interesting places within walking distance, but its the hotel itself that is the true gem. Brick porticoes, archways, wrought iron balconies, flowered inner courtyards with fountains and pools. Seagrove Villa transports you to the 1950's, but Place d'Armes takes you all the way back to the 1700's. This is my favorite place in the world to stay. Next time you need to get away, try one of these three places, just be sure to take me with you.
Why Can't We Be Friends?
36, Day 50 (Written Monday January 30)
While reading through some old yearbooks I noticed the frequency with which girls from my school days used the term BFF. For those of you who didn't grow up in the 80's and 90's, that stood for "Best Friends Forever." One of the things I noticed was that through the years the person being labeled as a BFF, would often change from year to year. That got me to thinking about all of the "best friends" I have had through the years and why it changed so much.
From around age 5 until about age 10 my BFF was Bryan Beets. We lived in the same neighborhood and had the same interests: fireworks, G.I. Joe, Star Wars, Transformers and riding bikes. We hung out practically everyday, and then I moved. After that we started seeing less of each other. We remained friends throughout middle and high school and even were shared an apartment and pledged the same fraternity in college, and I even performed his wedding, but we were never as close as we were during our days in Vales Mill subdivision.
Somewhere around that time I started hanging out through Cub Scouts with Brandon Johns. From the time we were about 11 until we were 16 we were inseparable. Virtually every Friday night we spent the night with one another, repeating the same routine: get a pizza, rent horror movies, play Nintendo (we loved Contra, up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start, if you don't know what that means you weren't a teenage boy in the 80's), and play war. We talked about baseball cards and which Bridgeforth Middle School 8th grade cheerleader we had a crush on this week, and vacationed together. We spent two weeks together in Panama City Beach or Destin, Flordia every summer for over five years. We even had our own nicknames (he was Paco because he looked Puerto Rican and I was Doy because his dad made that up one day). Once we turned 16 our social circle began to grow and expand to other schools and other towns, and though we remained good friends and in the same circle of friends, but it was never the same again, although I did perform his wedding too.
When I turned 17 I started hanging out with Jode Holden and Brad Liddie, and continue to do so until I was 21 years old. I had been friends with both of them for several years, but because we were all on the Giles County High School baseball team, we spent a lot of time together. When I think of them I think of the Jimmy Buffett song, "Stories We Could Tell", which I won't because my kids might read this blog. We spent so much time together that Jade swears we didn't go on a date without Jode until we had been married a couple of years, and you know, that's not too much of an exaggeration. Even after we married, Jode and Brad hung out at our house (when Brad wasn't in boot camp or away at college). Even when Reese was born we spent most weekends just down the road at Marvin and Diane Cooper's house (Jode's mom and step dad). For those of you who have wondered, this family is the source of my Louisiana obsession. Jode and his kin are all from the New Orleans area. The three of us spent a week in New Orleans leading up to my wedding (Jode was living in Louisiana and Brad and I drove down to get him so he could be in my wedding). Once we got back we literally flipped a coin to determine which one would be my best man at my wedding. But just like every other BFF, life took us in different directions. Jode moved back to Louisiana, Brad went off to college and eventually Iraq and I went to preaching school. My lifestyle changed drastically so the things we had in common got fewer and fewer. I did however perform Brad's wedding too.
Once I got to Memphis, I met two guys, that I initially did not like very much. One I thought was a kiss up and the other I thought was completely goofy. Mark Reynolds, Tony Choate and I didn't appear to have a lot in common initially, but the more time I spent with them, the more I came to view them as brothers. The two year grind of preaching school together just solidified our bond. I would be hard pressed to think of anything about me that those two don't know. We studied together, vacationed together, raised children together. However, once we graduated the Memphis School of Preaching we all had full time jobs at least four hours apart, and multiple children, so there was little time to be together.
Mixed in through all these years were some "short term" BFF's, both boys and girls. There was Troy Lindsey in fourth grade, who lived in my neighborhood and contributed to the worst bike wreck I ever had (he talked me into riding our bikes down the water tower hill in Green Acres.....I didn't make it). We were on the same baseball team for one year and I had a huge crush on his older sister Jenny. He also had a dog named Peppi that had gastrointestinal issues. He moved to Cookeville and I haven't been able to track him down since. In seventh grade there was Joseph Hancock who I went to church with and helped influence me to be baptized. He lived with his grandmother and was great artist. I had a huge crush on his cousin Tonya who lived in Lawrenceburg (are you seeing a pattern here?). Joseph moved back in with his mom in Lawrenceburg in 8th grade and the last time I saw him was at Bull Market when we were 22. One week later he was killed in a car crash. From 7th grade until 11th grade there was Kacey Jones. We tried dating several times but always realized we were more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend. We were either hanging out or on the phone nearly everyday. Her dad Jim literally, physically threw me out of their house one night (that is a story for another blog). When we were 17 she started dating Dusty Parker and I started dating Jade Maxey so we stop spending time together, which brings me to the conclusion of this blog.
I still love all of the people mentioned in this blog. There was no big fight, not fall out, no betrayal. We just all gradually drifted. Life had different plans for each of us. The Aborigines believe we all have Songlines that we must find and follow to reach our destiny in life, so I guess our paths were only meant to intersect, not run parallel. There was however, one with whom it did run parallel. Her name is Jade and she is my one, true BFF. I met her when I was 17 and have rarely spent a day without her since. That's the difference between her and all of the previous BFF's. Friends come and go and the main reason our friendships begin and end has to do with time spent together. I still remember all of those friends with happiness and fond memories. Occasionally I run in to them and have a conversation, a phone call or a meal, but that's about it. Jade on the other hand I see everyday and share my life with. We make memories.
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