IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!

It was a nice birthday treat out with the wife & kids, stuffing ourselves at the Texas Roadhouse. But it ended with a little doggie being rounded up for cattle rustlin'.

This is the hard part of parenting.

After dinner, stuffed with catfish, burgers, steak, & hot dogs, we made a trip to the local supermarket for some essentials & to pick up a few other items at the candy section. My youngest, Daniel, has a severe weakness for candy. He could live on candy. He has visions of sugarplums in his head every night...not just the night before Christmas.

We were picking through a heaping mound of loose "trial sized" candy bars for a project & kept fending off requests from both kids for candy. The boys have had more candy over the past week than they've had in weeks. And Mommy had decided they had "candied enough". We got what we needed & checked out, then headed for home.

We drove the 15 miles back to our house, turned into our development, & my wife realized she'd not heard a peep from Daniel. She was afraid he had fallen asleep on the ride home, like he's done in so many prior trips to town. She looks back in her rear-view mirror & asks if Daniel's okay...if he's awake. We hear a feeble, "yes. ...~sniff!~" Mommy asks what was wrong & was answered by a "You're gonna get mad at meeeeeeee!" that was splurted out by our little 2nd Grader.

So here we are 1/2 mile from our house wondering what the meltdown was about. Caving in from guilt, Daniel fessed up he had eaten candy he had lifted from that tempting mound at the supermarket. My wife looked as if she had heard him confess to an armed robbery. She stopped the car dead in the road, looked back at the criminal, & asked, "You, what??"

Daniel's older brother, Cameron, & I were then deposited onto our driveway when we arrived at our house whereupon "Sheriff Mommy, The Bounty Hunter" promptly put the "patrol car" in reverse to return the 7-year old felon back to the store to face the music. I last saw this trembling offender, looking pale as a sheet, saying over & over, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!!" Sheriff Mommy had a twinkle in her eye as she drove off.

Meanwhile, as I walked upstairs with Cameron, he was appearing more & more anxious & finally asked, "Is Daniel going to 'juvie'?" I responded, "I don't know, Cameron. We've never had any of our kids do something like this." We got inside the house & he went straight to his room, buried his head in his comforter, & squawlled like a little girl.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Mommy on her way back to the supermarket, kept hearing her prisoner say, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!" & the closer to the store they got, the more he began to make sounds like he was hyperventilating. At one point, he asked, "Am I going to have to go before The Judge?" Mommy couldn't say. He would just have to find out. Then the guilty robber began blubbering, "I can't do this, I can't do this, Mommy!" He was told, he should've thought of this before he kifed the candy.

Once at the store, Daniel was marched in & a manager was located. The culprit was taken to a back room. Sheriff Mommy made him spill the beans...er, I mean candy...to the store manager. Daniel bawled that he "couldn't help it because I like candy!!!!!" The manager, who was totally wonderful through the interrogation, explained to Daniel how that when items are stolen from a store, ultimately others must pay the price of this because the store has to raise the prices of their items to pay for the stolen ones. And this hurts their customers who don't have a lot of money to buy food. He was also told that the store has cameras that can see what goes on ...and others who have stolen items have been taken out in handcuffs.

After a near-death experience with The Law, Sheriff Mommy paid his bail (a total of 15 cents for the "hot" candy) & Daniel was let off with a warning.

When they arrived home, Cameron heard the garage door go up & he made a bee-line from his bedroom all the way across the house to the basement door (without even looking in the direction of his dad, who was standing only 9 feet away). He got to Sheriff Mommy's patrol car & swayed his head back & forth, trying to look for his brother, the outlaw. They were reunited & both learned a huge lesson.

As I tucked our paroled thief into bed & had him say his prayers, I asked if he was happy to go to sleep in his bed instead of the one at the jail. I got an emphatic "yes". I'm pretty sure, this will be a brush with the law that he will not soon forget.

And neither will Mommy or Daddy.

Or big brother, Cameron.

However, if it were I who was the arresting officer in this situation, I would've made a quick side trip to the Centre County Correctional Facility, that sits not more than 4 miles from our house, & tell my suspect in the back seat I may have to go inside to arrange for them to take in a new inmate. But Mommy didn't do that because she's a softie.

Identifying With a Bad Day

It's uncanny how similar my own personality is with my oldest son's. On many occasion I can see my early developing persona being lived out before my eyes. On one such occasion was this past Friday. As was the case over the past several years, I heard the bus pull up, the kids get off & the usual chatter coming up the steps into the house. Except this time I was hearing sobs.

I, meanwhile was "indisposed" & listened through the walls as what apparently was Cameron walking through the house as he "boo-hoo'd". My thought was that he either injured himself or something was said on the bus or by some kids outside as he got off the bus that upset him. Regardless of this he, & his brother, were supposed to be going through their "routine" of hanging up their backpacks, making their beds, & doing their other chores. A routine I had to physically supervise repeatedly 5 days a week, 9 months a year, for the past 4 years. And it was getting old.

When I confronted Cameron, his face was soiled with tears, contorted & red from his crying. He blurted out to me that he'll "never" get his Schoolastic books again. After conducting a brief investigation into what he was talking about, I discovered his very strict, old-fashioned 4th Grade teacher at Nittany Christian handed out those popular Schoolastic Book orders (I couldn't wait to get mine when I was in elementary school in Booneville, AR either), but told the kids they could not open their order "bag" until they got on the bus. It seems a lot would tear into their book order & not get the rest of their classwork done. Cameron, so wrapped up at the anticipation of getting to dive into his new books, left--again for the 2nd time--his homework folder & his assignment book at the school. This after having to sit out recess on the bench for doing the same thing the day before.

However, using surprisingly good self-control, he did obediently wait until he got on the bus to open his bag--only to find the teacher mixed up the bags & he got another student's order. Now, to him, this meant that his order went to another student who would probably toss his book order out the door into the trash & he'd never see it again. This realization deteriorated into a complete shut-down of his mental faculties & caused him to also leave his lunch bag on the bus for the weekend.

So now we have no homework, no assignment book, no lunch bag, & no Schoolastic Books...and Cameron was having a catatonic meltdown over it. He couldn't even get control enough to focus on getting his chores done either, which was lighting my fuse. This is a kid who gets side-tracked at the drop of a hat--which was exactly my problem at his age--and since this is an issue that's "close to home" with me, is an issue that I have little patience for. So, I erupt with a lecture on responsibility & dealing with disappointment, while demanding him to pull himself together & take care of his responsibilities at home.

After 10 minutes, he's still sitting on his unmade bed, in his bedroom that's strewn full of dirty clothes, toys, & books over the floor. I hit the roof & condemned him to his room for the weekend & he was to put his nose in the book he was reading so he could have it done in time to do his report on it at the end of the next week. No play, no toys, no TV, no this, no that. Just reading. I fully intended to use this weekend that Mommy would be away at a church women's retreat as one that I would teach him a lesson. He would stay in that room only coming out long enough to pee, poop, & eat.

I stormed back into the den to look over the homework papers my youngest son had brought home for review & began to think about how I would let one event unravel everything else that would happen in a day. I also thought about how smart Cameron is in that he really doesn't have to do much studying because he has a memory like a steel trap & has constantly come home with grades that were over the top. He even has scored so high that he now attends an "enrichment" class for gifted students. But it still gnawed at me that in spite of this kid's amazing academic ability, he would flunk on something as mundane as forgetting to turn in homework on time.

Once the storm blew through & things began to calm down a bit, and Cameron had spend a good 15 minutes silently reading in his room, all wrapped up in his comforter, it was as if the voice of God whispered in my ear, "Go sit with him. Don't do or say anything else. Just go sit with him on his bed while he reads."

After mulling over this suggestion, I walked into his room & asked him if he was feeling better. Looking up from his book he replied, "A little. I was just sad because you were yelling at me..." I sat down with him in his bed & he snuggled under my arm as he continued reading. After a few minutes he asked, "What are you doing?" "Sitting with you while you read," I replied. Then he continued to read on to himself. Several more minutes passed & he asked, "Dad, what is a 'lunch-ee-on'?" He had hit a word in his book he didn't understand. "That's 'luncheon'...it's like a fancy lunch," I said.

And this continued for the next several minutes, his occasional question on a word, & my answer, then silence. Finally I looked at my watch & he asked if he could go outside to play. I thought to myself, "oh, what the heck...we've all had a bad day" & replied to him, "Sure. You've read enough for today."

Shall We Gather At The River

It was a small, humble gathering along the banks of the West Branch of the Susquehanna River in Lock Haven where folks from our church, Big Woods Bible Church, gathered. There we witnessed the baptism of Daniel, my youngest son, who had made the choice a few weeks earlier of receiving Christ into his heart. At first, Daniel just wanted to be baptized because he had seen so many of his friends be baptized as well as his older brother, Cameron, who made a similar decision when attending kindergarten. I have been somewhat hesitant with Daniel because I know his cognitive understanding of things eternal is not as sharp as Cameron's.

I didn't want our Pastor to baptize Mario or SpongeBob. Daniel has quite an imagination. Instead, I wanted Daniel to fully understand why he was being baptized. Nevertheless, Daniel took it upon himself to approach our Pastor one afternoon following a church baptism to say that he wanted to be baptized, too. The Pastor assured that he would as soon as he had the chance to come over to the house to talk with him & me.

Daniel promptly informed me of this exchange of information & to let me know that "Pastor Ted" was coming to see us.

When we all sat down, Daniel, Pastor, & I, we began inquiring exactly what Daniel wanted. Daniel told us he had prayed to God a few months earlier. Pastor asked him what he told God. Daniel replied confidently, "I want to get baptized."

So we went through a simple presentation of what it meant to follow Jesus, as I tried to bring the salvation message to his understanding level. I said to follow God, he needs to promise God that he would try his best to live his life in a way that he would not "hurt God's feelings" by his actions...or by disobeying God. Baptism is a symbolic ritual that tells all those who witness it, that he has made a promise to God.....and if he did not actually make that promise to God, he would essentially not be telling the truth if he went through with baptism.

Daniel understood what this meant & agreed to pray with us to ask God to forgive him of wanting to act his own way instead of the way God wanted...and promised God that he would, indeed, try as hard as he could to please God with his actions so he would not hurt His feelings. There were a few tears as he understood the impact of the words he was saying to God. And after praying, he blubbered out, "But I still get in trouble in school!!" We both assured him that times like that will still happen, but now he has God's Spirit living in his heart now & he has help in being able to know the right way to please God.

Now, during a summer that has been unusually wet & cool, Daniel stood before some of his friends from his church & his family as Pastor Ted relayed how Daniel made the decision to follow Christ...and to be baptized. We weren't sure the event would happen because the rain had risen the river level & had made things a bit soft along the river bank. But we were able to scrape together a change of dry clothes, a towel, & a photographer (thanks to our fellow "Big Woodser", Traci Fotorny) & celebrate Daniel's decision to join a family far bigger than his own.

Oh, It's 2009 Already?

Wow, how time flies when you're distracted.  Yeah, new year...new stuff.  Good grief.  I can't believe a full quarter of the year has passed before I've left an imprint here.  Well, I've been preoccupied with kids, work, church, & Facebook.  I must say, Facebook has become my superhighway to staying in touch with folks.

A recent survey found that social networks have passed up email as the primary method of online communication.  I used to have a free account with places like Alumni.com (later Reunion.com...now MyLife.com) & Classmates.com.  But most all wanted me to pay for the ability to interact more with my former schoolmates.  Enter Facebook.  In a single year, my friends list mushroomed by 100+ as old friends (and I do not use this term loosely) reconnected....and it didn't cost me a dime.  So pardon my distraction.

At the same time I was getting some of these friend requests, my mind was faced with a quandary.  Why on earth did some of these folks decide to suddenly inquire about me?  I never seemed to strike up much of an interest with them when I was in high school.  Oh, sure.  I know there is so much drama in the juvenile world.  There is now, there was then.  But nevertheless my experience in my high school life wasn't all that stellar.  It was pretty blah.

Familiarity breeds contempt & by the time I had lived through a dozen years in my local public school system, there was plenty of contempt to go around.  I was not athletic (although you could say I was a great "athletic supporter") so I didn't fit in with the "jocks".  I wasn't talented enough to play an instrument, so I wasn't in the band.  I didn't get straight A's (or many B's either, actually) so I wasn't in with the school's Brain Trust.  So, that pretty much left me in the invisible crowd...not really paid much of mind to.

Add that to the frequent "butt of jokes", & what you have is a total disinterest in my high school life.  A lot of this started with my 7th Grade exposure to the school body.  At a pep rally...where all students (7th-12th Grades) were assembled in the local armory.  There, a "marshmallow eating contest" (or so they called it) to see who could consume the most amount of jumbo marshmallows that would be stuffed into one's mouth by the school cheerleaders (i.e. the snooty girls).

Well, what do you know?  Little ol' me was picked as one of the contestants to join the other half-dozen slouches to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of some 670 students.  We were blindfolded by our cheerleader then at the signal, I felt handfuls of marshmallows mashed into my face & I began trying to swallow as many as I could--all in the name of "school spirit".  The crowd was roaring with cheers, jeers, & laughs....  When it was over, & a "winner" was declared, we all had our blindfolds removed & were allowed to return to the bleachers.

I was met (along with the others who were called down) by kids laughing themselves silly, pointing at me & saying I needed to get to the bathroom to wash my face.  Somewhat confused, I made my way to the boys' room where, lo & behold, there I stood...my face blackened by powered charcoal...which had covered those jumbo marshmallows.  I looked like I had licked the fireplace completely clean.

All in the name of "school spirit".

As I said...such was par for the course.

After graduation, I departed for college--about 4 1/2 hours from my hometown.  It was there my social experience "matured" significantly.  And it was over those next 4 years I actually established friendships that would go on to last to this day...friendships that overshadowed those from the high school daze.

So, this is why it struck me as odd that now--some 30 years later on Facebook--that I'm suddenly getting requests from folks who went to high school with me.  What do I have in common with them?  With the huge gap in time between then & now, what has changed to the point that now I'm a person of interest?  In some regards, those same old feelings started to rise to the surface that I had while back in high school.  And in some way, I was faced with feelings of "why bother"?  There wasn't much there in regards to having any connection in high school....and so there was little to start anything further.  I felt like a tortise who was wasn't sure it was worth coming out of his shell.

So I decided, "what the heck?"  Let's see what happens.  It's a new century.  Maybe since "familiarity breeds contempt", then, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Time Warp

Well it's been a bit since I've sat down & put my thoughts on here. What happened since July? Geezh! Anyway, to catch things up: Letssee... The job...well, it's still there. No raise yet. But things are picking up. But I'm afraid there's gonna come a time where the boss is going to be given an ultimatum. I know they love the work I do, but I can't continue working at a place where I'm loosing money. We'll see.

We went to Disney World in Sept. The whole family...and the Mother-in-Law, too. It was my 2nd time but it was more fun watching my kids enjoy the "Happiest Place on Earth". And I'm absolutely just loving my church. I've not had a church family this awesome since my days in Jonesboro, AR while attending Arkansas State University as a member of Central Baptist. I have never felt more loved, accepted, & taught so well than at Big Woods Bible Church in Lock Haven, PA!

I went on my annual 2,874 mile trek to attend my family reunion over the Thanksgiving week, too. And I had the utmost pleasure of stayinig with 4 of my friends in the road there. It really re-impressed upon me how blessed I am to have such awesome friends as Geoff, Chuck, Lee, & Shawn (& all thier familes) who opened their homes to me & my 2 little "wild Indians" (yeah, I said, "Indians", so sue me, NCAA). And I was able to see my Aunt (my late Mom's sister) who was also able to see all my kids, my sister & her family...all at the same time. A real "once in a lifetime" happening. Plus, I lavishly ate all that greasy, Southern food cooked by my various cousins!

I guess since July, I've been most affected by a video that a friend sent me several weeks ago. I've shared this video with some in my church, many of my friends, & others who'll let me. I'm not one to spend a lot of time seriously speculating on future events. I mean, it's fun to just hear the variety of theories about the end times (and no, I've not seen nor read any of the Left Behind series) but I'm pretty skeptical about a lot of what folks have been saying.

Until I saw this video.

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Now, I'm no prophecy expert, but I have to admit that this is pretty amazing stuff. The notes and the charts that go along with this video are equally stunning.

I am not one to patently say that over this past November election we elected "The Antichrist" but I will say that I am seeing more signs of Biblical proportion that confirm in my spirit the fact that there is a very real possibility I could see the 2nd coming of Christ in my lifetime.

It's an anxious time...but for me it's an exciting time as well.

Bachelor again, sort of...

I've enjoyed a week of solitude & sobriety as my whole family was in NC seeing grandma...and I was left to hold down the fort. I ran around in my boxers, flushed the toilet only once, and ate directly out of the cereal box.

And I also paused by the doors of the 2 bedrooms where my 2 boys would normally be sleeping at night.

I also got into a king-sized bed that would normally be "pre-warmed" by my wife.

Yes, I enjoy returning to the bachelor life occasionally. But I would never want to go back to it permanently.

I read today that a dear friend of mine has experienced the tragedy of watching his infant grandson--just days old & suffering from heart & lung complications--pass away. Granted, there has been a huge void in the house with the absence of children's voices but I cannot fathom what my life would be like if it were like that permanently.

I recently read an email article from AllProDad.com about recognizing the miracle. It read:

Have your kids been getting on your nerves lately? Sometimes it’s helpful to step back and realize what a miracle they truly are. Once they were smaller than the period at the end of this sentence. Now they’re on a one-way locomotive towards adulthood and I only have a few precious years left with them. The time is short – too short to always be annoyed with their antics. Recognize one of the greatest miracles is who you tuck into bed every night.

My 2 boys know all too well the buttons they can push to get a rise out of me or my wife. And they do it with glee. But there's never a time I don't stop & think how blessed I've been from God that they are healthy & happy. And I've never stopped being utterly amazed at how precious life itself can be.

Bullheaded Leslie

My mom used that term a lot. My dad was one, his dad was one, & my dad's dad was one. All that bullheadedness got passed on to me. And I wear that mantel proudly. I gladly passed on those bullheaded genes to my 2 sons, too. And I want them to use it.

There's advantages to being bullheaded. For me, I never had to worry about peer pressure. I just wasn't going to go along with the crowd if I didn't want to. No one ever succeeded in getting past my bullheadedness to entice me to try drugs or sample alcohol. When I did eventually sample some wine coolers, I did it on my terms & kept my consumption regulated the way I wanted it. I never had a desire to move past wine (never had developed a taste for malt beverages) into hard liquor. And the only drug I ever take is either Sudafed or Chlor-Trimeton.

I'm bullheaded when it comes to what my faith is, too. I don't dislike other faiths nor do I think they are wrong. They are wrong for me, but maybe not for someone else. I also recognize that outside my own Southern Baptist faith, there are also people of other faiths who are wonderful, loving people. And I am proud - if not even cherishing - these folks who are in my life.

My brother-in-law is a practicing Catholic. I have as much in common with the Catholic faith as I would with chemical engineer. I find a smidgen of similarity between how I relate to God or how I interpret Scripture & how Catholics do. But I do not disparage nor look down on my brother-in-law for his beliefs, irregardless of how irrelevant they are to me.

While my family are members of a Southern Baptist church, my wife works for a United Church of Christ (UCC) church as their musician/choir director. I've been asked to teach SundaySchool there, be an usher there, & have been served Communion there. All of which I have graciously refused. Not because I want to be anti-social, but because I am bullheaded to the point that I am not a member there & I do not align my faith with theirs. I'm not trying to be unfriendly but consistent to my own church & faith.

Now here recently, we've sailed into some turbulent waters with the spiking economy, job uncertaincies, & the task of bringing up a family in the middle of it. My family have been scrapping & saving for over 36 months to pay for a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Walt Disney World (mainly for the sake of the boys). But since our committment to this began 2 1/2 years ago, our financial outlook has changed with the slumping economy & our stagnant paychecks. We've struggled as to what to do, all while looking longingly at that nest egg we've dubbed "the Disney money".

And throughout all of this, there have been some precious souls in the UCC church who have made "contributions" to the boys to help them "save for Disney" by giving them a couple of bucks here & there...sometimes slipping a $20 in a birthday card...or dropping a $50 into my wife's purse when she wasn't looking. But when things got a little uncertain at my job with the whole insurance issue & late paychecks, we obviously began asking for prayer.

That's when we started getting anonymous envelopes with $150 and the like. In fact, one elderly lady in the choir at the UCC church choir wanted my wife to assure her that the boys would, indeed, be given their promise of going to Disney World this year. And to help fulfill that promise, she would plop down $500 to pay for the gas to get there. I've been given cash, tucked inside a handshake, by some in the men's fellowship at the church where my family are members. All of this kind of runs against my bullheadedness.

See, I feel like I owe something to these who have been so generous. Especially to the ones at the UCC church. Yet I cannot allow my feelings override my reason. I don't go to a church because there are people there who feel led to help us along -- financially or otherwise. However, juxtapositioned to this fact, I can say I have as much love & respect for those in the UCC church as I would someone in the church where my membership resides. It's a fine line to have to walk, & heaven forbid it would cause offense. But I have to look beyond a faith made up of feelings & follow a faith made up of facts.

The fact is, while there are loads of beautiful souls that attend the UCC church, my loyalty does not reside there. My convictions do not mirror theirs. My faith is not practiced in the same way that their faith is practiced. But I would drop everything to help them if they needed it. At the same time, there are precious souls who are in "my church" who invest their time & their love by pouring themselves into the lives in my family.

Being bullheaded is not a bad thing...necessarily. It's actually the rudder in a sea of uncertainty.

5th Grade Games

I had quite the interesting casual chat with the man who owns the radio station where I'm employed. He's like talking to your grandpa who has a wealth of knowledge about everything in general, but not much on specifics. Basically, it's like trying to keep your eye on the ball of an aggressive game of handball.

The change of topics came as frequently as I took in each breath but one stuck in my craw. He asked if everything was okay with the company's insurance coverage. See, his wife (who actually holds the purse strings to the radio station) let it be known at a recent sales meeting that she intended to drop health coverage because of low sales & the tepid income the station was getting. Plus, she threatened to flip all of the 3 stations to a satellite music format & cut everyone's salary by 10%...and possibly include some lay-offs. Well, word of this certainly started spreading like wildfire to every staff member.

The next day, everyone got a form to sign with 3 options on the future of health care coverage. We could choose to have "no coverage" (and find our own health care plan), have a "conversion" (where we would keep our current plan, but we would deal with the insurance company directly instead of through our group plan...simlar to a COBRA), or "continue" with the group plan but have our premium deducted from our paycheck (to the tune of $166 per pay for me).

All but 2 chose "no coverage". The other 2 chose to continue the group plan with paycheck deductions for the cost of the premium. But there was one problem: The group plan would not be availible unless everyone continued. So, this presented a problem for the 2 staff members as well as for the station's owners.

This was what prompted my boss to ask for my feedback on the company's insurance situation. What he said next was the "kicker". When I told him we could not afford to have the premiums deducted from my paycheck, he told me I shouldn't "worry about the health care. We were just trying to get sales back up".

Huh?

So, you're playing little 5th Grade schoolyard games with my benefits, using it as a "bully stick" to wave at the sales staff? Where do some of these "bozos" get their management training? From a Cracker Jack box?

Needless to say, this did not convince me to change my mind on dropping the company's group plan. And it almost guaranteed that some staff members would be soon choosing another company to work for. And some have already been offered positions at a new job.

It would seem so simple to know how to properly manage, empower, & motivate a company's staff. A Dale Carnagie course, an Earl Nightingale book, a Dan O'Day seminar.... But instead, some choose the more childish route & think that this will inspire their employees to do better. What they end up with, however, is one very large hole in thier foot.

Report Cards

As a kid, I had such anxiety when report card day approached. It gave me twinges in my gut because I always had a feeling something would be terribly wrong. Usually, for me, it was in the "deportment" category... And when I'd get that card & find the teacher had written a "D" or an "F" in something, I knew that meant more grief when Mom & Dad saw it.

As a parent, I still get a bit twingy when report cards are sent home with my 2 sons. Except this time I don't have the anxiety... Instead, I get all weepy-eyed. When I see the progress they make & then read the comments from the teacher, it's hard to keep the lump down in my throat.

And especially as I go over each grade individually with each son, I have to put forth a lot of effort to keep my voice from cracking as I explain to them what the "adult terms" on their 2-3 page report card mean. Especially when they are given exceptional marks for things like "Exhibits Kindness" or "Looks out for others' needs".

There are areas where my boys need improvement (like their dad did), such as in "Handwriting", "Math", or in "Follows directions". But what really makes me swell up with joy overflowing is when they get the top grade for areas like politeness, generosity, sportsmanship, sharing, seeks the best in others, grateful attitude, truthfullness, respcts others, & the like. You may not be the best speller, but if you are respected by others & treat others with respect, that is what matters.

The longest-serving host of Meet The Press, the longest-running news program in the history of television, Tim Russert, died yesterday (2 days before Fathers Day). As I watched all of the news coverage of this man's legacy as a broadcaster, a father, & an individual, my oldest son was questioning what was happening. Again, fighting back emotions as I thought of his report card he got in the mail yesterday, I explained that this man had a reputation that was good -- honest, admirable, envied, and respected. And this is how everyone felt about him because of not how smart he was (even though he did have a law degree), but because of the way he treated others.

To not just know all the answers but to know good character. That is the essence of the report card that life hands you.

In Good Company

Since becoming involved in my new church, this has helped to bring some distraction to what is going on around me. I've been asked to more or less be the web administrator for the church's website & I've also started helping edit & compile a weekly prayer list that is emailed to members. But I've also seen how the people there have taken an active interest in my life & the concerns of my family. They have all reached out in some way or another. Just this past Saturday, at the church's monthly Men's Breakfast - as I greeted one of the guys - I felt crumpled paper pressed inside my palm as I shook the guy's hand. He had passed on a $20 bill saying how he felt led to bless us with some financial support.

Now I've been given money by concerned friends before, so this didn't really shake me up. I was certainly more than grateful for the surprise. What really made an impact was when he went on to say (as his voice quivered with emotion) how when he considered the distance I live from the church (27 miles) & our current situation (with our increasing expenses & static income) how much it blessed him to see me at events like the men's breakfast -- even while I faced the trials that has been going on recently in my life.

I'm an encourager by nature. I can never grow tired of encouraging another person in matters of the spiritual or emotional or whatever. So when I saw the impact of how my presence encouraged this fellow Believer, that was what really caused the twinge in my gut as he went on to share a little of his life story how God brought him through a tight financial situation he & his family faced.

But others have, too, freely given their encouragement to me as I wade through the slime of uncertainty. I've gotten dozens of emails, messages on my Facebook page, & other comments that have given me a good reminder that God still has things under control.

Picking up the boys, after their last day of school, from another parent's home (who volunteered to keep our kids until I got off work to save us from having to pay for daycare), I told the mom (who is a very vocal & passionate Assembly of God Believer) about our current situation as we followed the kids (hers & mine) across an open field so that they could have a quick float down Spring Creek before I took my boys home. Suddenly about half-way across this football field-sized meadow (surrounded by houses), she thrusts out her arm & grabs my shoulder & says, "Let's just pray right now!" So, as we walked along, she began praying loud enough for not only God but all of the neighbors to hear.

Feeling about as anxious as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I just walked along & tried to look spiritual.

God love her. I know she really means well. And it did bless me that she felt so spontaneous. I guess sometimes, God chooses to shine upon us even if it does look conspicuous.

It's so good to know I'm in such good company.

Irresponsibility

I drove to work today not knowing if I would find my paycheck that was supposed to have been in my box before I left from work yesterday - payday. All I could think of was the words echoed from my Personnel professor in college that said if I was in a position of paying employees at a company I own, I should not expect a "thank you" from them when they get paid. They worked for me for 2 weeks (or more) without pay & they deserve getting their payroll check. AND, if for some reason, I could not meet my payroll, I should be responsible & first TELL my employees what was going on, then promise to compensate them for using their rightfully earned money for each day the checks were late. That meant paying compounded interest on their paychecks for each day I could not provide compensation.

Not so at my job.

Not only did I not get my paycheck by the time promised by my employer, but I got NOT ONE WORD as to what the status was about my pay, WHY it was that I was not going to get my pay, and WHEN I could expect to eventually get it.

I actually deliberated whether or not to even bother to get out of bed this morning at 3:30am. I have never given my employers anything to worry about when it comes to wondering if they will have anyone to show up to do a radio show. And I am not going to wonder if I will get paid on time or not. Therefore, why should I continue to give my employer such peace of mind? I sure don't have it.

I think this bitter pill would be easier to swallow if - at the very least - my employer would bite the bullet & approach me honestly & authentically to tell me the facts: That it is going to be a stretch at trying to meet payroll...and would I please bear with them. You would be amazed at the how far a little transparency goes with me.

What they have done, instead (by their silence & irresponsibility) is create an environment of bitterness, distrust, & they have under-minded employee loyalty. Something my college prof said I should expect from my employees if I ever betrayed their trust.

Time Out

I'm returning to the blogging desk after a brief reprieve. I haven't posted anything because I have been so preoccupied with life...and I really haven't had much of an opinion about much lately. But I have also been mulling over just how I want to utilize this online opine site. Many times I've stressed myself out thinking I must compose some lengthy, witty article as if I were having it published in the New Yorker or something. Well, I'm changing that. I think I'm going to just post whatever is drifting through my head at the time, whether it's a paragraph or a small novel.

Of late, I have been facing the fact that after a career in broadcasting that began in 1979, there may be a coming paradigm shift. I love radio passionately. I spent 4 years training for this career in college. Radio is all I've ever done. It sure doesn't pay well, but it is the most fulfilling job I've ever had. I've had other side jobs in retail & as a pizza delivery driver. But I've always had radio as my primary job. Now with iPods & online/satellite radio stations on the rise, local terrestrial radio is becoming a lost art.

I hesitate at moving away from a career that has been my entire universe for almost 30 years but I do not want to ignore the facts, either. As for now, however, I still remain on the fence, trying not to get a splinter.

Attitude Adjustment

When I was a senior in college, I took a course called "Advanced Broadcasting Practices I & II". It was "real life" in a functioning radio station -- namely, the 100,000 watt campus radio voice of Arkansas State University, KASU-FM. It had a very real and very vocal band of loyal listeners it had developed since going on the air in the 1960s. It gave broadcasting students a taste of reality in dealing with the media.

On the first day of class, my professor (who was also - at the time - the General Manager of KASU) spoke to us in our first & only classroom session. All future classes would be held within the KASU studio. He said something that I have never forgotten. He wanted to belay any assumptions anyone would develop over the course of the semester about his relationship with his students. He said that from that first day of class forward, until the last day of class, we were not to take anything person away from whatever he may say to us in class.

What's so big about that? He laid down what he wanted us to expect. He would be critical of our on-air performance, he would praise our accomplishments. And he would do it unbiased. So we were not to assume he was playing favorites amongst the students. It was a very valuable attitude adjustment for me as I studied under him. And from that day until now, I have had nothing but the highest respect for him.

But you know, so many folks do not stop to adjust their attitude like that. Instead, they muddle through life with the proverbial chip on their shoulder or have their expectations so high that they set themselves up for a big let down. There have been so many things I can recall my late father saying that have stuck with me. One of those is:

It's easier for you to change your attitude toward the world than for the world to change its attitude toward you.

If we really acted as if we believed that, it would be amazing as to how stress-free our lives would be. My dad used to listen to Earl Nightingale on cassette for several mornings at a time as he got ready for work. And many of what he passed on to me was what he gleaned from what he heard on these tapes.

He also took Dale Carnegie Courses, which eventually led me to find the book How To Win Friends And Influence People. A book that was an eye-opener for me. This also led me to find a book in my school library (back in the days such books as this were allowed in school libraries) called, The Power of Positive Thinking For Young People by Norman Vincent Peale. All were part of my attitude adjustment.

Nightingale's biggest success came from a gold record he received from the spoken word album The Strangest Secret. This was one of the tapes my dad listened to. In this talk, Nightingale stressed that we become what we think about. Now just think about that for a minute.....

When you begin to think that you are the target for some unfortunate circumstance, you are creating a monster inside of you that can grow as fast as any acute cancer inside your body. Country singer Don Williams released a song back in the 1980s that speaks to this kind of thinking:

I know all about black clouds,
There's one that follows me around
It may sound funny but somehow,
It only rains on me
It follows me almost everywhere,
And it seems it's hardly fair
People will stop and people stare,
But it only rains on me

I'll bet this won't hurt you much,
You'll find someone soon enough
I'm the one that loses in love,
It only rains on me
It's time we said goodbye and so,
I'll just take my cloud and go
Don't worry you'll forget I know,
It only rains on me

Chorus:
Broken dreams and drowned parades,
Lovers who just slip away
Guess I learn to live that way,
It only rains on me
Seems to me there was a time,
It used to rain on friends of mine
Now I look around and find,
It only rains on me

We base our expectations on a self-fulfilling prophecy we continue to perpetuate each time we tell ourself that this is how our life is. So, it just goes around & around like a dog chasing its tail. As the lyrics say, "Guess I learn to live that way", we condition ourself to expect the worst. We justify our behavior by saying that we're just trying to be realistic.

Realistic??

The first thing in being realistic is getting a good attitude adjustment. I start with saying that I live in the United States of America...not Utopia. I know that the way things should be, but the reality is that they're NOT as they should be. So I stop expecting that. This causes me to then focus on the little things in life that help life along rather than looking at life as a whole. I refuse to set myself up for a disappointment.

When I hold up standards so high that I get disappointed often, it caused others to be disappointed - if not frustrated - in the process. If I have a friend who I expect to call me frequently to just see how I'm doing & that friend doesn't do it, I get disappointed in that person & begin to think that this person really doesn't care at all for me. This angers me & begins to churn up feelings that may not accurately reflect reality. It may be that this friend is just plain absent-minded & really has so many plates spinning that nothing gets accomplished. He/she may feel bad that they don't stay in touch with their friends as often as they should. But my frustration with this person could play itself out in the form of a thought like, "You must not think much of me anymore since I've not heard anything from you." I may not say this to the friend, but that feeling has festered in my mind to the point that no matter what this person says about why they have neglected staying in touch with me, it would be filtered through my bias feelings toward that person.

Is that "reality"? Hardly.

However, if I just accept the reality that this friend is just absent-minded & really does have good intentions to stay in touch, but everything keeps getting in the way, I refrain from conjuring up feelings of neglect or rejection. So when I do see this friend, I am excited that at that moment we are able to connect & catch up on each other. I feel better about this friend, our relationship with each other, and this friend feels even more connected to me because I am not holding anything over their head.

Does this mean I turn a blind eye to the obvious? Absolutely NOT! Taking a positive approch to live does NOT mean I gloss over or ignore things in life that are NOT positive. There's a difference in turning a blind eye toward a negative situation & acknowledging the negative but choosing not to react to it.

This reality has given me such a lift in my life -- that I have control over what affects me....not the other way around. Another saying my dad used to quote was:

Think enthusiastic & you will be enthusiastic.

You can do this while you acknowledge the harsh reality of life but emphasize the positive side. And the strange thing about this is that I found when I took this approach to life, my change of attitude resulted in more people becoming at ease with me & this would provide me a better platform to talk about things that were not as positive. In other words, I became more approachable. It's one thing to let things bother you, but it's something different when you let others KNOW its bothers you. Yes, I believe there are times when I must vocalize my feelings...but do I have to do it with each instance? Or should I just pick my battles wisely?

Since I've come to live out the expectation that it is easier for me to change my attitude toward the world than the other way around, does this mean I have succumbed to a non-aggressive, wimpy mentality? Don't bet on it. I still have my same belief system. But I have allowed others to have theirs, too. I have written off any desire to try to change their belief or their lifestyle - until they feel like they need to include my opinion. In the meantime, I concentrate on finding ways to better connect with others. Finding ways to earn the right to speak truth into their lives.

I believe that if we all spent more time adjusting our attitude toward the world than expecting the world to change its attitude toward us, we may find that we're all pretty easy to live with. And that we could actually go through our lives genuinely trusting each other.

If These Walls Could Speak...

If these old walls,
If these old walls could speak
Of the things that they remember well,
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love
Livin’ week to week,
Rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these old halls,
If hallowed halls could talk,
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin’ down and dinner bell,
And children playing at hide and seek
>from floor to rafter,
If these halls could speak.

They would tell you that I’m sorry
For bein’ cold and blind and weak.
They would tell you that it’s only
That I have a stubborn strreak,
If these walls could speak.
If these old fashioned window panes were eyes,
I guess they would have seen it all--
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek
Or followed after,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

That’s what these walls would say.
That’s what these walls would say.

We pulled into the driveway at my old home at 215 Riviera Drive, Booneville, AR with my two sons in the back seat. "This is the house where Daddy grew up", I told the boys. As we got out & walked down the sidewalk, I saw the huge tree that spread its branches across the street. "Do you know who planted that tree?", I asked the boys. "It was your great Grandma Ruby". I had gotten yelled at by Grandma when I was not much older than my 2 sons because I was taking a running start & jumping over the top of the young sapling that was freshly planted.

We approached the door & rang the doorbell. A woman answered the door & I asked if I could show my kids where I grew up. Since she was not the owner of the house, she was not too eager to agree. However as we stood on the front porch, the rightful owner pulled into the driveway. She was a single mom who still remembered my parents - and had heard of me - since she graduated Booneville High just 10 years after I did. She eagerly invited us inside.

It was the first time I stepped inside the house in over 8 years. It was before my parents moved out & began living with my sister, who was in Columbus, OH at the time. I had not been able to be there when everything was unloaded into the moving van. I saw that the original front door was still there, as was the same carpet & the same linoleum flooring in the entryway & kitchen. The cabinets, too, were the same as I remembered, & even the bookcase & desk that my cousin built years ago were still attached to the far wall of the family room.

It was surreal to see all the familiar surroundings that contained unfamiliar furniture. I took the boys through the kitchen & out the sliding glass doors into the patio/garage. We walked into the back yard where there were a few less trees (which were the ones I had climbed so much that the bark was worn slick). However the old metal storage shed (where I had kept my dog) still stood with the names of my Dad, my step-Grandpa, & a family friend still etched in the concrete foundation. A tree now was on top of a tall stump from one of the trees that had been cut down.

As we made it back inside the garage, I told the boys of how I had been racing my tricycle up the driveway & into the garage where the slick concrete prevented my stop & I slid into Grandma Ruby, causing her to fall & break a rib. I showed them the ladder that was nailed to the interior garage wall that lead up to the attic crawl space where I would sit as my Dad retrieved Christmas decorations located farther back in the musty attic.

We went back inside where I took the boys into the long hallway into the bedroom where both my sister & I shared a bedroom during my early childhood. I told one of my boys to look on the inside of the bedroom door to find the hole I had punched in the door when I had gotten mad at my Mom & slammed the adjoining closed door into the bedroom door, causing the doorknob to bust through the wood. Yep, it was still there. I showed them the place where we had repaired the 2 holes I had kicked in the walls of the hallway because Grandma wouldn't let me go outside.

As we went up the hall, I pointed out the bathroom where I took baths as a kid, got ready for school, & the linen closet where I climbed into for the perfect hiding place when I would play "Hide & Go Seek" with my cousins who would come visit. Then we went to the master bedroom at the head of the hallway where my Mom & Dad had their bedroom & bath. It was in that room where my family all gathered on my parents' bed after my dad delivered the news of my Mom's diagnosis of a malignant tumor the doctors found in her breast. I saw my Dad cry for the first time in my life on that day, as an 8th Grader.

After that, we went into the living room where I pointed out the piece of ceiling tile that was replaced after I had been playing in the attic & my knee slipped in between the boards, punching out the original tile that fell onto the couch below.

Yes, the owner of my old house found out a lot of history about their home that day. The house had changed hands twice since my parents sold it. The current owner got the house for a steal since the bank had taken over the payments from the previous owners. The house had worn well. It looked really good for being build in 1965...when I was just 2 1/2 years old. It was where I spend 2 decades of my life. It held so many memories.

We went back outside to leave & I told the boys how when I was their age, my Dad (their Grandpa) used to stand on the sidewalk below while I ran & jumped off the porch into his arms. They wanted to do that, too. So, I stood where my Dad did & caught both of my sons in my arms, watching the same wide smile on their faces that I had on mine when my Dad caught me.

I remember getting a fancy Casio brand calculator in 9th Grade for my Christmas present that had the ability to enter dates & figure out the number of days between 2 dates. I remember sitting in class at Booneville High School, calculating how old I would be when the year 2000 happened. Turning 38 seemed to far away back then. Little did I know then that the year 2000 would be the year that my Mom would die from cancer that was first diagnosed in her breast back during the days when I lived in this house. And just 3 short years later my Dad would follow suit.

It was a wonderful feeling to let my children experience this vital aspect of my life...to let them have a taste of my life as a kid....to relive some of the wonderful memories that happened at this old house that has weathered the test of time. So many meals together as a family, so many daily Bible readings my Dad would do at breakfast before we all left for work & school, so many friends who would run through the rooms of this house. So many ups & downs that took place in that house long before my boys were ever even thought about.

Life goes on & it's good to see that so do the memories........

KASU celebrates 50 years of public broadcasting - News

KASU celebrates 50 years of public broadcasting - News

When I read the story published in The Herald of Arkansas State University, my mind raced back to the days I was in college back in the early 1980s. I was one of the many in my class of 1985 to have seen KASU as it was & as it is now. I started as a green Freshman attending my "Intro to Broadcasting" classes in the KASU building. It looked like a large metal building...nothing fancy...a simple peaked roof... all on one floor. It was dwarfed by the large buildings that surrounded it, one of which was the Dean B. Ellis Library.

Then we saw the construction begin on ASU's new College of Communications, which would house the new studios of KASU and ASU-TV. After it was finished, and just in time for my senior year, I had the privlege of using the new state-of-the-art studios for the 100,000 watt voice of Arkansas State. One of the bragging rights I was told by the KASU staffers was that the station was the one to depend on when severe weather hit Northeast Arkansas. Jonesboro, AR was the capitol of "Tornado Alley" & KASU stayed 10 minutes ahead of the National Weather Service with it's comprehensive weather coverage.

When I wasn't playing Music of The Masters or KASU, I was recording a news voicer for their (then) news director, Jim Cathey or I was in my dorm room listening to the soothing Classical numbers that permeated the station's airwaves.

One of my earliest memories of KASU was in my 2nd semester as a Freshman. My Radio Production Prof asked me to find Doug Rogers (KASU's chief engineer) & have him find something for class. Everyone at KASU held themselves as people who had some degree of "class" and Doug "Don't call me Mister Rogers" Rogers held the most of it. When I found Doug & made my request on behalf of my class, he studied me carfully over the top brim of his black "nerd" glasses; His round face bearing strained in concentration. He finally said, "You must be new." I responded, "Yes, this is my first year here." He smiled & said, "You're going to be mine one day!" & proceeded to retrieve what I had came after.



I learned not just the basics about broadcasting from my experience at KASU, but to respect the medium of broadcasting itself. I learned professionalism as well as the knowledge of using the "Fifth Estate" to serve the public interest. One instance involved my repeated lapse of memory in properly pronouncing the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Each time I would intro the cut on the air, my brain would just go into suspended animation & I would say, "conducted by Leonard Bern-STEEN". In a flash, the studio phone would ring with my prof correcting me. "Bern-STINE! Bern-STINE!! Like a beer stein!" Never forgot it since.

Likewise, my prof at KASU would also invite public comment on the announcers on the air. I got a few. The critical ones were always sealed in an envelope & pinned to the bulletin board in the radio studio. The letters of praise or compliments were posted for all to see on the bulletin board. The one complementary letter I received was from a lady who was a faithful KASU listener to my Music of The Masters program. She wrote that I had such urbane speech in my pronounciation for Mozart. I correctly pronounced it as Mot-zart instead of "Mozzart, as other incorrectly did.

I had to look up the word, "urbane" since I wasn't sure she was complimenting my work.

So, happy 50th, KASU! You are the crowning jewel in broadcast excellence & a tribute to every institution that teaches broadcasting!

Siamese Twins: Resolving Christianity with Denominationalism

You know, Phil, you're more of a Southern Baptist than you are a Christian!

That critical statement was made to me as a college student at Arkansas State in the Baptist Student Center...by a fellow Southern Baptist student...over 25 years ago. I'm sure the intent of the statement was not good but I took it as a complement. Over the past 25 years, I've found that it has become more of a truth for me than ever.

I've been a bit absent in blogging over the past several weeks mainly because I've been traveling down a path in life that has required some careful navigation. To give some perspective to the situation, it should be understood that for me to fulfill the Great Commission in Matthew 28, I will need a conduit. That conduit is a local church. But beyond that, the local church needs to be under the accountability of a group of like-minded churches - a denomination.

Since childhood, I have attended a Southern Baptist church. I received Christ into my life at a Southern Baptist summer church camp. I was baptized into a Southern Baptist church on Bicentennial Sunday, July 4, 1976. I was an active part of the then (Southern) Baptist Student Union at Arkansas State & I was a member of a vibrant Southern Baptist church in Jonesboro, AR while I attended college. And it was during those college years that I wanted to really know why I was a Southern Baptist. Was it because of my parents or because of other factors...or both?

I did some personal study on what those in the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) believe & why. And I asked myself if I believed this...and why. I came out of the experience with a confidence that this was the denomination through which God was leading me to serve out my part of the Great Commission. I was a Southern Baptist because "they agreed with me".

I moved from the comfort of the "Southern Baptist South" to the "barren wasteland" of the cold, unforgiving North - Pennsylvania - to pursue a job that really never materialized. Before I left my home of 23 years, I looked up the closest SBC church in my new locale. It was over 40 miles away. However, one Godly deacon at my home church encouraged me by saying that if God wanted me somewhere, He would have a church for me. I later found that this same lone SBC church had a "chapel" (a mission church) that had been started. It was in the very town I was moving into.

For over 18 years, I considered life in this town as my "spiritual boot camp" where God was shaping my life & using all of the spiritual education & knowledge I had gained while being so active in SBC life both at college & in my college church. And, applying what I had learned to real life was not a cakewalk. Yet it helped me gain more confidence in my relationship with God & with the relationship with my denomination.

Today, living almost 90 miles away from my "boot camp" and active in a "hybrid" church that is both affiliated with the SBC & the Baptist General Conference (BGC) for over 3 years, I found myself at odds with the very conduit I needed to fulfill what God was leading me to do. The church gave me a lot of confirmation about the changes I made in my approach to real life as I applied the spiritual knowledge I had gained during my college years. It also pushed the envelope to new ways to reach out to an ever-changing culture...and this challenged my conventional thought process.

However, one of the areas that I lacked was being connected to the other SBC churches in the local Association & to the State Convention (the Baptist Convention of PA/S. Jersey). It was this, combined with some other internal issues within the church structure, that was slowly causing an anemia in what I considered my "life blood" in my relationship with God. I began seeking God to see if He was leading me to another congregation.

I had this same feeling before when I was in college. I was frustrated that the church I felt led to join was not supporting the local Baptist Student Union. I was all set to move to another church - after only 3 months of membership at the present one - when I heard the pastor give some advice in his message that would alter my decision. He said that it is dangerous to practice "church hopping". A Believer should find a local church & work to become an active part of it. If there is an issue that is prompting someone to change churches, one should first try to "change the church".

That was enough for me to stay at that church & use my gift of persuasion to push for more financial support & involvment toward the Baptist Student Union. I was a member of this church for the 4 years I was in college...and before I left, that church had more than doubled its giving to the BSU.

Yet now, here I was again facing the same crossroad. When I made my intentions to change my church membership known to the pastor, that gave way to releasing other issues that had been left unresolved between the pastor, myself, & my family that I was not aware. I was asked to prayerfully stay on for another 3 months as the church goes through some re-structuring. This presented a conflict to me as I had thought I was following God's leading. Now, I'm given a new option. Was this a way God was showing me that my feeling was not shared by Him? Or was this something God allowed so as to give me yet another opportunity to lean upon His Guidance?

Needless to say, I agreed to giving it another try for the next 3 months. Even Gideon wanted to make double sure he was doing what God wanted him to do.

Gideon is often vilified for seeking such a sign of the Lord (twice!), but I
read nowhere in the scripture that God chastises him for his requests.
Gideon is not faithless in “fleecing” the Lord. What he does require,
though, is a strengthening of his faith. He has been nothing but obedient
before God, and God honors Gideon’s action in the face of fear with the
miraculous.

So in this case, I felt that I was making a fair decision about which path to take next. I haven't arrived at my destination yet.... But I know that God is the one Who is shining the light.

This whole situation caused a bottleneck in my walk with God because I believe Christianity & denominationalism are so closely linked. When I thought of that criticism that was given me back in my college days, I now can say that the two are Siamese twins...they are linked together - two of the same. To serve within the confines of one's own denomination is - or, I believe, should be - the same as serving Christ & His Church. Now, if one is serving within the confines of their denomination but has never had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, that person is no different than serving in the local Kiwanis Club or Red Cross chapter. But to serve one's denomination out of a relationship with Christ takes that service to a deeper level.

I make no apologies about the fact that I believe that the doctrines espoused within the SBC are the most accurate interpretation of the Bible than any other faith. I know there are many who do not share my belief. But that's just fine. I don't consider them wrong because I am not them. If a United Methodist believes the same way about their denomination, they should be as active in their church as I am in mine.

I know of many who tell me they go to a "non-denominational" church. Does something like this even exist? I'm not a math scholar, but how can anything be a "non-denominator"? A "denominator" is something shared or held in common. So a "non-denominator" (which, by the way, isn't found in my dictionary) would have to be something that is not held in common, right? So a non-denominational church would be a church where nothing is in common & there is no standard. Wouldn't a church like that also be "non-biblical"?

What I believe these people mean when they say they attend a "non-denominational" church is that they attend an "inter-denominational" church. It is a church that spans several denominations.... But doesn't this make the church its own denomination? I'm confused.

A group of "Jesus People" over 30 years ago started a community in downtown Chicago, IL called "Jesus People USA" (JPUSA). For years, they were on their own...they had no allegience to any denomination. That changed in 1989 when the community, after sensing God's direction, felt they needed accountability from a larger body of Believers. JPUSA chose to unite with the Evangelical Covenant Church & have remained with this denomination since.

I truly believe one cannot live the life Christ desires apart from a local church. And a local church cannot be a healthy church apart from an orgainzed group of like-minded Believers. Call it what you want, but any group of like-minded Believers (people who share a "Common Denominator" - Jesus Christ) is a "denomination". So for someone to ask me if I am more of a Southern Baptist than I am a Christian, I would have to respond by asking, "Which came first: The chicken or the egg?"

Collect Call to Dad

Is it any wonder why on Father's Day that the phone companies say they have a record number of collect calls to dads all over the world? I think it's primarily due to the fact that we have a lot of schmucks who are trying to be fathers. Why, you ask, do I feel this way? Because I see the kinds of examples found in the dad of today's culture. There are an increasingly amount of headlines where dads are beating their infant children, abandoning their familes, or generally abusing their position as head of the household.

I was in a convenience store recently where I asked the girl who waited on me what she was doing for Father's Day. She replied with little emotion that she really had no relationship with her dad & that they both were not speaking to one another. This, sadly, is the reply a lot of children are giving in terms of how they relate to their dads. So, that's why no one should be surprised at the number of collect phone calls that dads across the country will be getting today...if they even get any calls from their kids at all.

My dad died in 2003 from complications of Alzheimer's Disease. Even though I do not have a dad with whom to celebrate Father's Day, I have no regrets because my dad was not a schmuck. My dad grew up very poor in southwest Arkansas on a cotton farm, one of 5 children. He had 1 older brother & 2 younger brothers along with a sister. He did not complete high school but instead, like my mom, contracted the dreaded disease known as the "white plague" or tuberculosis while he was a teenager. He caught TB from his father who eventually died from the disease. My dad had a relapse of TB while being treated at the Arkansas State TB Sanitorium in Booneville before being released. It was there he met my mom, married, & began an accounting firm that he owned for 42 years.

He eventually received his high school credentials after graduating from Draughn's School of Business in Little Rock. And during his accounting career eventually became a licensed public accountant, though never desiring to become a CPA. Dad was not a handyman, nor was he a hunter, or an athlete. But he did do some painting around the house, attempt at some home repair, took me target shooting using his .22 long rifle, and I can remember a couple of years that he would take me & my sister camping at Blue Mountain Lake State Park.

One thing I never grew ashamed of was my affection & my love for my dad. Throughout my school years, when Dad would drop me off, it was as second-nature as breathing, I would always plant a kiss on Dad's cheek. Yes, even as a senior in high school. And yes, I got a few "ribbings" from my classmates because of it...but I'm guessing that's because they didn't have the sort of relationship with their dad as I did with mine.

Now as I am older, more & more of Dad's frequent sayings are drifting back to memory. One that I tried to live out is that "it is easier to change your attitude toward the world than for the world to change its attitude toward you". Dad was a hopeless optimist. He would always find a way to see the brighter side of life. When I would belittle a classmate because of his economic class, my Dad would quickly come to his defense saying my classmate may not have been able to help his condition & that I should not make fun of him.

My Dad was frequently taking calls from the American Red Cross when a soldier was injured & the family was needing to be conctacted. He helped the less fortunate by serving as the Executive Director of the local public housing authority. And he was quick to look the other way when an accounting client could not pay his fee for my dad's work on his books.

Another thing Dad frequently did was to verbally tell me that he loved me. I remember him as he would tuck me in at night saying, "Your mother & I love you with all our hearts." Even as I got older & into college, my Dad would say to me on the phone, "I love you, son." Wonder how many dads would say things like that today?

When Dad died, he died with me having no regrets. When he celebrated his 25th wedding anniversary, my sister & I secretly set up a savings account at our local bank. I made the teller swear to secrecy about the account, since my Dad served on the bank's advisory board. Saving some of our allowance each week, we presented my Dad with $450 cash in the entranceway to a cataloge showroom & told them to spend it all before they left as a way to honor this occasion. When it came time for me to get married, I had little effort in trying to pick who my best man would be.

It would be my dad.

Dad did not withold his punishment if I deserved it, either. He did not give "time outs" ...no, he had a strip of an old worn out belt that was about 14 inches long. He would double that over & apply it swiftly to the backsides of either me or my sister at appropriate times. Never did I consider that this was abuse or a lack of self control.

The memories I have of my dad are those of a church leader. He used his talent of number-crunching by volunteering as my church's treasurer. He used his gift of administration by serving on the church's board of deacons. He used his gift of leadership by teaching many Sunday School classes. And he used his gift of singing by helping the bass section of the church choir.

I also learned the lesson of perserverence from Dad. I want to design a t-shirt that on the front would say, "I came from a dysfunctional family." On the back it would read, "My parents stayed married." When asked after a heated argument between my sister & my mom, "Dad, how are you able to stand it living with her?!?!?" He patiently replied that, "She was like this when I married her 35 years ago, and she was like this when I woke up in bed with her this morning." He made the choice to live out his committment irregardless of how he felt about her at the immediate time.

Yes, I miss Dad terribly. But I have peace about the fact that never have I had any regrets about how I treated him...nor of how he treated me. My dad was no schmuck. So, if you are a dad & wonder why you get so many collect phone calls at Father's Day, maybe it's because you just don't act like a dad should. There should be no reason that Father's Day could out-do Mother's Day in the number of cards bought & calls made for dear ol' Dad. But sadly, too many fathers have determined how fatherhood is being treated by the way they've treated their families.

I marvel at those who have said to me how difficult it is to be a parent these days. Being a parent is no more difficult in today's culture than it was during the culture of my father or even his father's. As times change & as society advances, so does parenthood. Each generation has its share of difficulties of parenting. But being a good father is one insuring factor how to keep parenthood from being such a dirge to the next generation.

I continually thank God for my Dad for providing me with the role model I needed to be as good of a Dad as he was. When I see him again in the splendor of God's Glory in Heaven, the first thing I'm going to do is give him a kiss on the cheek.

Religious Elites

The dictionary definition of elite is this:

–noun

1.	(often used with a plural verb) the choice or best of anything considered collectively, as of a group or class of persons.

2.	(used with a plural verb) persons of the highest class: Only the elite were there.

3.	a group of persons exercising the major share of authority or influence within a larger group: the power elite of a major political party.

–adjective

5.	representing the most choice or select; best: an elite group of authors.

Also, é·lite.

---

[Origin: 1350–1400; ME elit a person elected to office <>e(s)lit ptp. of e(s)lire to choose; see elect]

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

Last Sunday, my pastor spoke on righteous indignation and based his talk on the book of Mark. One of the passages he read came from Mark & as I read it, I was struck with some thoughts about how this affected me in some of my past experiences & in my own life.

The Man with the Paralyzed Hand

1 Now He entered the synagogue again, and a man was there who had a paralyzed hand.
2 In order to accuse Him, they were watching Him closely to see whether He would heal him on the Sabbath.
3 He told the man with the paralyzed hand, “Stand before us.”
4 Then He said to them, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent.
5 After looking around at them with anger and sorrow at the hardness of their hearts, He told the man, “Stretch out your hand.” So he stretched it out, and his hand was restored.
6 Immediately the Pharisees went out and started plotting with the Herodians against Him, how they might destroy Him.
[Mark 3] (Holman Christian Standard Bible)

I remember how I used to watch people closely to see if someone would do something that I would consider to be inappropriate so I could react with an "Ah-ha! Then when it happened, I could pass my judgment upon them & expose their hypocracy.

Just as the religious leaders then anticipated Jesus to violate the religious customs of His day, many of the "religious elite", as I once considered myself, still anticipate a similar violation of what is considered "sacred behavior" today. Jesus knew what the religious leaders were up to & intentionally asked the man with the paralyzed hand to come forward, publicly.

Can you imagine the thoughts racing through the disciples' minds? "Oh, no. Here He goes again. He's gonna really tick off the priests! He's not going to heal this guy on the Sabbath! This is going to be so embarrassing." I'm sure Jesus put the disciples in many an uncomfortable moment during His ministry. And as predicted, the religious leaders reacted by sneaking out to plot Jesus' demise.

Jesus, however, gave the Pharisees a question that no one was willing to answer. This angered Him all the more and only fueled His intention to derail the "religion" of the religious elite. Mark said what angered Him was the hardness of the hearts of the religious leaders. They were too proud to admit that they may be wrong in their believe of holiness. So, they sat silent in their pride.

I used to react that way, too, when I knew I was beat.

Nowadays, I see so many examples of how today's religious elite sit in judgment of fellow Believers especially. It is expected that in order for anyone to come to Christ in today's religious society one should first clean up their act and then they can approach the Throne of Grace. And if you are already one of the "chosen", you are scrutinized all the more & could face alienation by the church if you buck the system.

I am reminded of a song by Chris Christian, a contemporary Christian artist of the 1980s, titled, Why Are We First (To Kill Our Own Wounded?) which asks the question why do we, as Believers, shoot first & ask questions later when dealing with struggles from our own? Why do we plot to destroy a fellow Believer's spirit by condeming them before we understand the plight they are in?

This encounter with this man who had a paralized hand came in church. Back then, if you had a condition like this, you were considered cursed by God because of something you or your parents did. You were prevented from entering the santuary of the Believers until you went through a clensing. How is this different from someone who is known child molester, AIDS patient, practicing prostitute, active homosexual, or deadbeat dad today?

It seems Christians today want their sanctuaries to be safe havens from the very people who need to be in there to find hope for their hurting lives. We have no problem going to them on street corners & "ministering to them" because it may make us feel worthwhile & important...if not superior (elite) to their situation. We come as a knight in shining armor to resuce the perishing. That's all fine & good. But what if the perishing enter into our sanctuary? Well, we get more than a little uncomfortable.

And heaven forbid that someone reaches out to them by sitting with them, talking to them, or showing any sign of comradery with them. It now becomes a blight upon our "witness" because they can take our actions to mean that we approve of their behavior or that we endorse the lifestyle they are in. And when the religious elite see that you are associating with people like this, they begin to plot with the Herodians of our day to destroy you.

Just who were the Herodians? They were a political party among the Jews, supporters of the Herodian family, and therefore to some extent in opposition to the Roman government, and also the Pharisees who were in favor of purely religious theocracy. Sound familiar to any of the "big church" style of today's religious elite? When we start messin' with the religious theocracy in our society, we are just asking for trouble.

Yet, Jesus snubbed the noses of this bunch of religious elites & intentionally asked this man to stretch out his afflicted hand. And when he did, he did it as an act of faith - but he also implicated himself by doing this because he participated in the "crime" that Jesus committed by healing on the Sabbath. This man put more faith in Jesus than in the religious leaders of his day.

Now that's a thought.

What if all the Believers started following what Jesus wanted them (as individuals) to do instead of following the drivel from the religious elite? How would this affect your church? How would it affect all of Christianity? And more importantly, how would it affect the spread of the Gospel?

"Fair Weather" Friends

Not everyone has heard of this phrase. For me however, it was a way of life during my years as a grade schooler & even on into high school. My favorite saying is that I've had so many "fair weather" friends, I should've been a weatherman. Typically, the "fair weather" friend is that friend supports you & sticks by you only during "fair weather". If life or your friendship gets the least bit "stormy"....your friend will be nowhere to be found.

I've had more than my share of "fair weather" friends. In fact, I graduated with about 80 of them in my senior class...out of a total of 81. It's no wonder why I have little desire to go to any high school reunions at my Alma Mater, Booneville HIgh School. This had its start as far back as 1st Grade. Mrs. Rogers' class. By the end of the school year, when somone needed a scapegoat, a butt-end to a practical joke, or someone to dominate, they came a-callin'.

This went on for what seemed like indefinately until my senior year. Oh, there was one bright spot: When I was pulled from Journalism class one day by a classmate for a photo. I remember the day... the classmate was carrying the camera as we walked down the hall. I finally asked why I was going along. I was honestly expecting some prank to be pulled at my expense & have it photographed. Instead, I was told that I was getting my photo taken with another classmate because we had both been voted as "Most Civic Minded" by the Senior class.

You mean I was voted for something ...?

I would've been happy with being voted "Most dorky" just so I could say that I was voted on at all. But to be voted on for something as "mature" as Most Civic Minded was indeed a shock. Could they not find anyone else to fill the category? Was I just picked because no one else wanted it? Well, whatever the reason, I was photographed & published in the yearbook... And the rest is history.

Having the first 12 years of my life blemished by "fair weather" friends, I became naturally gun shy of anyone who appeared to be patronizing me or displayed the slightest hint of insincerety. Granted, a lot of my suspicion toward friendship was abolished by many friends I met while in college at Arkansas State University. It was there that I really was able to have friends that showed me genuineness & acceptance based on who I was.

One, in particular, was Greg. He was a year ahead of me but he became my prayer partner in the Baptist Student Union. I have never let him slip from my radar. We have gone long periods where we have not communicated with each other, but that's what happens in life sometimes. Greg was a groomsman in my wedding. And I have never stopped thinking about or praying for Greg.

as a person who desires genuine friendship, I also have the tendency to give out genuine friendship. It is so against my nature to be two-faced to someone. What you see is what you get....or as the computer geeks put it, "WYSIWYG". This is why I am like a sponge to water when someone shows me the same amount of transparency about themselves as I try to do with others.

The last think I want to be to someone is a "fair weather" friend. I avoid giving this perception to others at all costs. And if I feel like I have been a "fair weather" friend to someone, I almost instantly try to alter my behavior to correct myself.

Moving into a new area has been my biggest challenge because I have to start all over again at meeting & making new friends. I feel at times I wish I could just add years of history to all the new friends I've met just so I can have the depth that comes from a long-term friendship. And these new friends have begun to develop a "history" with me which has led to establishing a bond that I long for.

There are times I wish there would be a person like me who would come up to me & treat me the same way I like to engage others. Initiate a conversation by placing their hand on my shoulder...giving hugs...asking questions that go deeper than the weather or how my job is going. I know, however, that no one can be exactly like I am... And I can find contentment in just their willingness to accept me & to receive the love, admiration, fondness, and respect I want to show them.

The 25th Anniversary of my graduating class came & went last year. It wasn't even a blip on my radar screen. However, I can say that a few of my graduating class has become a little less of a "fair weather" friend as I have made the initiative to reach out to them. One was last year when my classmate, Allan, lost his father. I read about it in my local hometown newspaper (that I still get). I made a intentional point of looking up his name online & calling him....sending flowers to the memorial service. We talked for about 30 minutes on the phone & he still asked if I was in radio. Just the fact that he even remembered what career I was in is a big deal.

It's such a shame that some must put on a costume to be able to relate to another person. It's so much effort to not be who your are...it's confusing as to why exert that much energy on trying to snow someone. Being yourself is so easy. At least it is for me because after living 12 years of my life at the expense of others' jeers & cruel comments, my skin has toughened up to the point that I don't really give a whit about what another's impression of me would be. I treat others with no assumptions or expectations...either on their part or mine.

Oddly enough, one friend who I had throughout grade school who (even to this day) has become a "fair weather" friend, wrote a quote in my senior high school yearbook when he signed his name. That quote has become my mantra...even though this friend did not follow it as far as our friendship was concerned:

"Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead..
Just walk beside me; And be my friend."

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