Mother

"But as it is now our purpose to the discourse of the visible Church, [518] let us learn, from her single title of Mother, how useful, nay, how necessary the knowledge of her is since there are no other means of entering into life unless she conceives us in the womb and gives us birth unless she nourishes us at her breasts, and, in short, keep us under her charge and government, until, divested of mortal flesh, we become like the angels (Mt. 22:30)." - John Calvin

On the 8th of August 2012 at 9:01, I walked into the vast and empty Anderson Auditorium at Montreat Conference Center with my wife.  I walked back to the pew in the middle of the auditorium where 38 years before at this very hour on this very day, my life changed, and I shared the story of the moment with her.  And therein that darkened auditorium the days from those years so long ago seemed so close and real to me.

On the 8th of August 1974 at 9:01, Richard Nixon, the President of the United States, began "Good evening. This is the 37th time I have spoken to you from this office, where so many decisions have been made that shaped the history of this Nation. Each time I have done so to discuss with you some matter that I believe affected the national interest..."

At the end of the speech, the youth conference leader stood before the group of over 1,000 youth and read, "...then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs.  The Seraph touched my mouth with it and said: "Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed, and your sin is blotted out."  Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"  And I said, "Here am I; send me!"

In those last few words, my life goals changed.  As I walked out of the auditorium that night 38 years before all I knew was that I wanted to serve God with all my life.  The conference had been life-altering in so many ways.  At this, I realized who I was and who I was going to be, had all been nurtured in me by my "mother."  The church was my mother.  The Presbyterian Church, who had raised my parents, my grandparents, my great grandparents back centuries had now given birth to me.  It had given me nurture and faith in Christ.  And it was something that was bonded to me forever.

That following week in 1974, I walked into my parents' bedroom one morning around 10 and found my mother seated in a rocking chair reading her Bible and devotional.  As she looked up, she asked me to come to sit beside her.  As we sat there in the room, I shared what I had experienced, and I thought I was going to be a minister.  She responded that being a minister was going to be a hard life, but if that was what I wanted, she and Dad would support me.  Those words were the only words of affirmation that I needed.

My mother who had given birth to me, who nurtured me, and helped me grow into the young man I was becoming, believed in me enough to let me walk where and when I needed to go.  Now 38 years later, I am who I am because of her nurture and love.  And I am who I am because of the upbringing and love of hundreds, if not thousands of fellow Presbyterians and Christians.

John Calvin was right to say that the Church is our mother.  It is in her walls and rooms that we find support and hope to live our lives.  Yes, many times, I have been anger at her and disagreed with her.  But we are family, and you don't walk away from family.

Sunset

I remember as a child my mom always saying, "Red sky at night sailors delight, red sky at morning sailors take warning." As I ran along the clifts over looking the Pacific at sunset...and of course it was a red sky. I can only guess it was the relief of having the packers out of the house and getting to the last part of the move...tomorrow we load the truck...but I had a real sense of relief. Or was it because the sunset was just beautiful. Anyway my mental stress was gone. As I ran along the cliff, I remembered my mom's old saying...and yea..."Red sky at night..." Good things are coming. We just need to keep putting one step in front of the next.

Out of thoughts

Sorry, this hasn't been updated. My hero...father passed away this week and to be honest it is just hard to even think. But I would like to share just a quick story about how much this man meant to me.

Back in November 1975 while I was a senior in high school, I ran with a club because we had no cross-country teams in Mississippi at the time. All long distance running was sponsored by clubs and local communities...so many of the races I ran I had to get myself to. Lucky for me, Coach D who lived down the street always made sure I got to the races.

The weekend before Thanksgiving, my mother was taken to the hospital in serious condition. Our family life was turned upside down with all our attention focused on her. But on Wednesday, she was able to come home from the hospital. My father who was also a minister did an awesome job of taking care of us that week and was still able to preach at the community Thanksgiving service on Wednesday night. So everyone including my father was exhausted.

At 5 in the morning on Thanksgiving Day, Coach D came by the house to pick me up to take me to a 5 mile race in New Orleans. With all the stuff going on, I had forgotten about the race...and his knocking on the door was the first reminder that I even had the race. My father came to wake me, but it was too late for me to get my stuff together and leave with Coach D. I was still hurrying around the room getting my things together when my dad came back and told me that Coach D had left. There was a long silent pause...then my dad told me to finish and he would drive me to the race.

We made it to the race and I ran one of my best times. For years, I had always thought it was because I was so grateful that my mother survived her illness and it was that which inspired me. But the other night it really hit me. It wasn't my mother's inspiration that got me to do so well in that race. It was my father's quiet presence. That week was hard on him. He was afraid of losing his wife, taking care of five children, and continuing his work as a pastor in a community celebrating Thanksgiving. He was tired, but when it came to taking me to New Orleans, he didn't hesitate.

I gave the trophy I won to my mother that Thanksgiving morning so many years ago. But tonight as I prepare to say one last good-bye to my father...I realize it was he who has inspired my life…winning my heart and respect.

What would you do if you knew you could not fail?

It is a question that I really never truly understood for several reasons.

When I was young I was small, slow and awkward. I tried to play basketball, but was too short. I tried to play baseball but was uncoordinated. I tried to play football and just got squashed. Academically, my teachers thought I was slow and put me in the slow working group. Success for me was not getting an F on my report card.

But then in the 5th grade, I had this teacher who decided to teach the class chess during our lunchtime. For some reason, I excelled at it. The next thing I knew I was moved from the easy math group into the advance math group. And things began to change.

I never understood the question because I could never succeed...but then in the trying...something happened and there were small successes.

In 7th grade, we went from running across the playground at full speed to running laps around the field. Again it wasn't an overnight thing but I wasn't the last person finished, I actually was near the front. Then by high school I was winning races on the track.

Again, I never understood the question about my incapacity to fail, because it seemed to me that the constant effort to try...and keep on trying eventually brought a measure of success.

Finally, now later in life, the lesson has been learned. The question is not "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?" rather it is "Well you keep getting up and trying again when you do fail?"

This small, untalented, slow kid has over time been successful, because I trusted something greater than me and I've got up off the ground after each failure. I believe God has a plan for our lives. My faith is going after that vision that God has given me and trying time after time to find the way to accomplish it. I know I'm going to fail and I'm not going to succeed. But I do know that I'm going to get back up and try again...and again...and again...because that's the question we all have to answer.

Fading Pages not Memories

This weekend I've been going through boxes of old papers and photos trying to weed out the excess that has accumulated over the years. Talk about something that takes a herculean effort.

I purchased a scanner to aid me in the process. My vision of the task was simply taking an item, scan it into the computer and throw it away. Nothing very complicated. Yea, I could knock this off in a day or two.

Wrong...what I discovered was the emotional ties that made me keep the crayon drawing of my daughter (#2) from kindergarten in the first place was as strong as my desire to keep it now. Yea, it got scanned then placed back in the file to continue the yellowing process…maybe some day later, I’ll get around to throwing it away, but today…couldn’t do it.

In the midst of all this emotional stuff of looking at the pictures and papers, the phone rang. It was that little girl who drew that kindergarten picture upset because her wedding plans are not going the way she wanted them to go and …she was missing her Dad. The paper may yellow with age, but the memories just so much more precious.

Leaving Home, Again

I'm missing my eldest daughter(#1), who left home again this past weekend. She left home not in a bad way but in a great way. She was flying back east to start her career as an actress via way of visiting her younger sister(#2) who is still in graduate school back east.

Being a father of four talented children is scarry at times. You want them to be successful, and at the same time you don't want to be pushy and at the same time you want them to be productive and at the same time...you hold your breath and watch them walk away into their future.

Our eldest daughter (#1) went off to college and grad school, only to return this summer to visit us for really the first time in three years. Having her at home was wonderful, and I was surprised at how hard she worked at everything. Her work ethic changed dramaticly over the past years. She spent hours and days working on her lines for the play she will be performing back east this year. She was up every morning at 4 am to work in a local coffee shop because she didn't want to have us, her parents, pay for everything. Then this past Sunday we took her to the Airport to send her off to "work."

I miss her...not being around the house, just like I miss our second daughter who is working hard in her grad school back east. (Actually in just a few weeks, I'll be headed back east again for our second daughter's graduation from grad school.) But what is really nice is to know they believe in themselves and they will be successful because they love what they are doing.