Dwelling In The House

"...surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Psalm 23

We said good-bye to Grandmother yesterday.

It was really, by no means, a sad good-bye. The family is grieving, yes, as we all do during times of personal loss of a loved one. But Grandmother was 97 years old and had long been ready to go see Jesus and her long lost loved ones that had gone on before -- most of them several decades before. It was her time.

It was the first real touch of death of a loved one for Coby and Melody, and it was tough. I remember growing up -- I was probably about Melody's age actually -- when my great-grandfather died. I don't ever remember seeing him alive, but I will forever remember the thoughts I had when I saw him at the funeral home. It was surreal. But a few months later my grandfather passed away, and that really hit me hard, even at the tender age of nine or so.

Grandmother passed away peacefully last Wednesday night, in the nursing home where she'd lived the last few years. Up until about a month or so ago, you'd never have known she was three years shy of a clean 100. Actually, about 2 1/2. She was as strong and active as I'd ever seen from someone of that age, but the last couple of weeks her tired body just gave out. She was struggling the last couple of days of her life, and we were all dreading a long-drawn out, suffering type of passing, but when the end came, she simply relaxed and went on to heaven.

We fully believe Grandmother never knew she was gone. She was immediately taken up to heaven and greeted first by Jesus. That's what the Bible promises us, for people who are His children. And Grandmother was definitely that. She was as sweet as you could ever imagine, and she loved being who she was -- that is, a mother and grandmother.

Jeannie was very close to her, as were all her grandchildren. To others outside the family, she was Eugenia -- the country girl who was raised in a different time, a different era. As the pastor said at the funeral, life was different back then, and Eugenia came through that period and was now living in a world that, really, has changed so much it's hard to understand.

But to the family, particularly my wife and kids, she was simply Grandmother. All my blood grandparents passed away several years ago, but I was perhaps closest to my Mamaw, my dad's mother. When she passed, no matter that she was in her late 80s and had been stricken with Alzheimer's for years, which basically took the person we knew and loved for so long away from us, it hurt. There was the feeling of near-relief, but I knew that she was in a better place, a place she'd longed for for years.

Grandmother had become "Grandmother" to me as well. She treated me just like anyone else and was as good to me as gold. I will miss her personally, and not just because she cooked the greatest fish or hot-water cornbread or pot of turnip greens you'll ever taste. I'll miss her because she made sure I never wore a hat at the dinner table. I'll miss her because she always said what she thought, at any moment, and said it with conviction -- but never seemed to hurt anyone's feelings by doing it. I'll miss her because my wife loved her with every bit of her being, and now Jeannie's hurting and has to overcome the loss. I'll miss her because of who she was.

Grandmother is living forever, though. She will live in our hearts forever here on earth, but she will live forever in the House of the Lord. And somewhere up there, although it's been less than a week but seems like an eternity, she's already cooking deep-fried cornbread and turnip greens, and drinking a Pepsi.

Dwelling in the House.

Just How Big Is A Mustard Seed?

"Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, 'Why could we not cast it out?' He said to them, 'Because of your little faith. For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17:19-20

I had one of those moments again this week, for the trillionth time in my 39-year-old-and-counting life.

Nope, not a senior moment. I'm still a few years away from those I hope.

This was a moment that happens all too often in my life. It's a struggle I have to deal with almost daily, actually.

Faith. It's my weakness. I have started to learn over the years that it's part of my makeup, my personality, the way God Himself created me I guess... to want things done a certain way. What I really mean by this is simply that I want to control things. I like life to cruise along on the open highway, with soft music coming into my ears and no roadblocks or highway patrol ahead. I don't like traffic lights because they slow me down from where I'm supposed to be going. I don't like drivers who go below the speed limit because, again, I can't get to where I'm supposed to be going fast enough. That's just the kind of person I am.

That's why I was having a miserable start to the past week. It all started, really, with working Saturday night down in Seguin at an ETBU football game, then driving (or riding, actually) throughout the night and finally putting my head on my soft pillow at home around 5:30 a.m. or so on Sunday morning. That knocked out church, as it turned out, altogether, and I hadn't regained enough strength sufficiently enough to get up off the couch and go that night either.

So lack of sleep might have had something to do with my foul mood. It didn't help matters that Jeannie came home from church with the car smoking, literally, well, almost literally. The temperature gauge was all the way to the H and upon further inspection, there was a pool of water/coolant on the garage floor. Nothing was left in the radiator or coolant reservoir, a sure sign that something was amiss with the Camry.

Now, I know how to do one thing with a car -- put gas in it. That's it. So I began searching for a mechanic on Monday, which is like searching for a dentist to do root canal without anesthetic. You know it has to be done, but by gosh, you know it's gonna hurt something fierce.

That's when I had my moment. We were riding on empty in the bank account again, as always it seems, between paydays. Jeannie and I get fired up about two days before payday every couple of weeks because we know our purgatory is about to end if only briefly. Then a couple of days later reality sets in and we trudge on through to the next date circled on the calendar.

But with all things considered this weekend, I'd had enough. Hundreds of dollars, if not thousands, were going to be needed to fix the vehicle. We didn't have ten in the bank account. I was staying home from work for the day because Abby was enjoying another runny nose and cough. I had all kinds of work to do on Mondays, which is my busiest day in the office with paperwork and catching up from the weekend. And on, and on, and on --

Things weren't going according to my plan. And I don't like that. In no uncertain terms I mentioned this to God, quite loudly, in the comfort of my own home. Why can't we catch a break? Why can't we ever get ahead? Why does this have to happen to me, Lord? Why don't you ever let me in on what you've got going up there?...

I got no answer, again. I am battling with that personally now, and I ask for all my friends and family who might read this blog occasionally to remember me in your prayers. I know God is there. I know He listens to me. I just wish every now and then I could get something audible in return, something I can hold on to and know that everything is going to be alright.

But wait a minute. That's just not how God operates. You see, and I'm trying to learn this and hold on to it, but my own flesh -- my personality -- is screaming for something else, but God doesn't want us to know what He's doing because then it takes faith out of the occasion. God gives us every little blessing He has to offer, more than we will ever know, see or imagine. I am guilty of this as much as anyone, of taking God for granted and just expecting him to give me and my family our health, our home, any sort of measly little wealth we might have now or forever.

But he doesn't come right out and tell us this. Why? Because he wants us to trust him. He wants us to have faith in Him. It doesn't take much -- just enough to grow mustard apparently. In case you're wondering about the title, a mustard seed is pretty small. But Jesus went on to say that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains.

A mountain got moved for me this week. Yesterday, I got a call from the mechanic and that problem I was expecting to have with the only vehicle we own that can transport my whole family at once -- water pump, oil leak, blown engine, for all I knew -- was just a leaking gasket and something called a freeze plug. Total cost: $169.17. And it just so happens that my lovely, popular wife was bringing home some extra cash this week from her gig at ETBU, so when you ring it all up, we've got a few hundred extra dollars to spare as of this moment.

I didn't see it coming Monday. Or even Tuesday, for that matter. But God never had any doubt. He's the Master Mechanic. And once again I feel as small as a mustard seed for knowing, but not believing.

Thank you Lord, for coming through again. That keeps the coming through ratio at 100 percent for life.

Eye Of The Storm

"And He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea: 'Peace, be still.' And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm." Mark 4:39

It's been a long three days here in the 'Ville.

All over the area, actually. For the first time I can remember, we were directly affected by a hurricane. Ike roared ashore down at Galveston early Saturday morning and has just about redesigned the Texas coastline. The storm was so strong and so big that it was still packing quite a punch when it got up here to our neck of the woods Saturday afternoon.

I've seen some pretty powerful thunderstorms in my day here. That's kind of what our weather is known for in East Texas -- heat, humidity and some of the biggest, most violent thunderstorms you can imagine. It's like up in Minnesota where Ronnie and Erin are -- you expect the snow to start falling sometime in late October or early November, and it won't stop falling until April maybe. Here, it's those big thunderboomers. It's just part of living here and you get used to it.

I don't know how anyone can get used to this kind of stuff, though. Ike was a monster. The television coverage and pictures, I'm sure, don't do it justice. I was thinking Friday night as I sat watching TV, when the storm was blowing in, that there was a pretty good chance that Galveston was going to be wiped off the map. As it turns out, at least for a few days and weeks, that might not be so far from the truth. The bad thing is that most of the coastline down there is in the same predicament.

But up here in the 'Ville, we got a lot of wind and rain. Mostly wind. There are friends and family still struggling to live in the dark, three days after the wind stopped. The power crews are doing an admirable job considering the extent of the damage, but the fact remains that people are having to live without electricity.

Our lights went out Saturday afternoon around 4 or so, a good three hours after the first gentle breeze began to blow from Ike. An hour or so later, the trees in the neighborhood were bending over. It was quite a show from Mother Nature.

All things considered, we got off pretty easy. Jeannie had supper going in the oven -- chicken and rice, yummy -- when the power disappeared. Problem with that was that we, of course, have an electric stove, and an even bigger problem was that the meal still had a good 90 minutes or so to cook. I'm not real big on munching on undercooked chicken, so we were left with trying to find a suitable heat source, or have to deal with watching the meal go to waste.

Fortunately, Monty had thought way ahead as usual and had a generator running out at their place. It was running the lights, TV and other essentials, one of which was the stove and oven. So we packed everything up in the height of the storm, said a quick prayer and headed out into the gale.

We came home later that night and the house was dark. Abby had gone to sleep at Nona's, and she never knew we came home anyway, so she was sound asleep in her bed. We opened the windows and it wasn't bad at all thanks to the still strong breeze outside. We had a battery-operated fan we take on baseball road trips, and that was placed in mine and Jeannie's bedroom window. Coby and Melody slept in Coby's room, where the window was facing the breeze and made it quite cool there. So again, all things considered, Saturday night was somewhat restful despite the conditions.

Power came back on early Sunday morning, and went back off for a few hours late Sunday afternoon. Stu and Lauren came over seeking shelter, and we went out to eat in the 'View. Power was restored about nine or so that night, and it's been on ever since.

There are still folks around here living in darkness, but fortunately the cold front that whisked Ike out of here quickly Saturday night brought with it some December-like temperatures. So again, all things considered, it's not as bad comfort-wise as it could be if this had happened, say, in the middle of a traditional East Texas August.

The last few days are a reminder that God's power is far-reaching and, well, powerful. Hurricane Ike was a devestating part of nature that will happen again, sadly. The far-reaching effects of such an effect are felt everywhere, and it touched us here in the 'Ville this weekend -- several hours away from landfall. Ask New Orleans and the Mississippi gulf coast about Katrina. Hurricanes are deadly and very, very inconvenient.

But in the midst of the storm, God provided us some comfort. We had family with a generator, so we were able to eat a nice warm meal and spend Saturday night watching TV while the storm howled outside. Instead of oppressive heat in an un-air-conditioned home, we were able to sleep peacefully with a gentle breeze through the windows.

In the end, always, God takes care of us. In the midst of destruction and in the middle of the storm, he's the Eye watching over us. He is in control of the storm. That's the most comforting thing of all.

A Day Remembered

I posted this on a blog I do for work -- thought it was appropriate to copy and pasted here.

Pearl Harbor Day in December is a day that will always "live in infamy" for Americans. But there are those out there who can't remember the exact day the Japanese invaded.

Dec. 7, 1941 -- for anyone who's wondering.

But we just passed another date on the calendar that also is infamous, and I'd daresay that every American remembers it.

Our memories fade with time for most things. For example, I can't tell you what I got on my fifth birthday, but I'm pretty sure at the time I was pretty excited about it.

But memories such as Sept. 11, 2001 never fade. I can remember exactly what I did that morning, where I was at when the news was breaking, what I was doing throughout the entire day.

Sept. 11, 2001 affected the ETBU campus as it did everywhere they day. The world was forever changed because of it. I remember running late, as was normally the case in those days with a four-year-old and two-year-old in the house. But if I hadn't been running late, I would have missed the news on the radio.

I, like most sports fans, am hooked on talk radio. I don't hardly ever agree with what's been said on sports talk shows, but I listen nonetheless. I was listening to a local sports talk show that morning, and when I turned on the radio I knew something was happening -- because the host wasn't talking.

He was ooing and aaahing, and later I guessed he was watching a TV set. It was about this time that the first plane was crashing into the World Trade Center North Tower (yes, I can remember the North was the first tower hit because I thought it incredulous that the South Tower could be hit second and yet be the first to collapse, later. I have never forgotten that.)

It was then that I knew something bad was happening. I got to the office and immediately went down to the Communications Services department. Back then, I was still officially in the Athletic Department on campus, but would be shifted over to Public Relations, which is now an arm of the Enrollment and Marketing division here at ETBU.

But Communications Services back then was, effectively, the PR department. For those who don't know, the Communications Services/PR offices used to be in what is now Carlile-Howell Fieldhouse, but as part of the renovation of that building for football, was housed in the new Herrington Service Center with our Physical Facilities department. The office is now used by ETBU's IT department, and we are now on the third floor of Marshall Hall.

But back to the memories. I went down to Communications Services because I knew my good friend and then-Director of Communications Services, Mark Dimmitt, would know what was going on. Mark is a former member of the Air Force and had a radio and TV on in his office, as all good PR and news folks do. I watched a little of the carnage there and then stopped by Dean Healthplex on my way to my old office -- in the new football field house.

There was a huge crowd standing around the TV in the Healthplex, and I realized it was one of those days where everyone was going to be glued to a TV set somewhere. I went down to my office and tried to follow the news on the Internet, but every major news organization's website was down. The usage volume apparently was just too high.

There were frantic phone calls, messages, you name it. The world was turning upside down. Coach Ralph Harris met with the Tiger football team early that afternoon and there was a team discussion about what was taking place. There were a couple of team members back then who actually had relatives up in New York for various reasons, and there was some concern about their safety.

Eventually, of course, one of the team members that year -- a freshman middle linebacker named Greg Washington -- would put ETBU on the national stage a couple of years later by being called to active duty in the middle of the Tigers' playoff run in 2003.

Most of our athletic events that week would be postponed or cancelled, as I remember, but there was the discussion about the football game scheduled for the following Saturday, Sept. 15. Most colleges or conferences immediately cancelled games. Ours left it up to the individual schools. We were scheduled to play Mississippi College in the conference opener that week, and our officials got with their officials and courageously made the decision to play.

I say courageous because we knew we were going to be the only game in town that weekend, at least within a 600-mile radius or so of Marshall. There were no high school games, nothing -- but ETBU was going to play Mississippi College. We didn't know what to expect in terms of backlash, but our university felt it was important for us to play and try to do what the President George W. Bush was urging -- return to some sense of normalcy.

We decided to play nothing but patriotic music in pregame warmups. We handed out flags to everyone who attended. And it was a good afternoon of football -- American-style. The Tigers lost in overtime, but everyone who attended that game that day felt like a winner.

I went home that Tuesday, Sept. 11, night and wept on the way home. I felt like our country was falling apart and at that time we didn't quite know what we had to do. I wanted to get home and take care of my wife and two small kids, because that was the one part of the world I could understand.

We ate dinner in silence that night, turning the TV off. I wanted to keep the kids away from news as much as possible. But as I would find out during the course of the meal, my son Coby had already seen enough.

I don't know if it was the look on my face, or what, but Coby wanted to say the blessing -- at four years old. He said his typical "thank you for this food, dear God," prayer but then he closed it by saying this:

"And please take care of the people in the buildings. Amen."

The tears welled up again. And that was the spirit that I think all Americans were trying to muster that day. We were wanting to take care of each other, and saddened when the stories came out that some of us didn't make it. We were attacked collectively -- not just in New York, or Washington, or Pennsylvania -- but right here in Texas, Marshall, Texas. Right here at East Texas Baptist University.

We honor those people whose lives were snuffed out on Sept. 11. May we continue to honor them by never forgetting that terrible day, no matter where we are or what we are doing.

Soaring Above The Clouds

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." Isaiah 40:31

Whew! It's been a busy couple of weeks in and around the 'Ville. It's put a serious chink in my blogging time, too.

But I'm catching my breath, slowly and surely, as is the family. I had a great weekend. It always is a great weekend when the NFL kicks back up. It's even better when the Cowboys win on opening day. Can't get much better than that.

But this one was more special because I got to spend some time with Ronnie and Erin up in Minnesota. We were playing a football game up there against St. John's, which is about 90 minutes or so from Ronnie and Erin's place in Prior Lake, outside Minneapolis. I spent a couple of nights with them and wished I could have had more. We miss you guys.

The thing about the trip was, of course, the plane. I will never ever be a comfortable air traveler because I just don't do it much. The toughest thing for me personally is going through security. Glad those guys are there, because if they weren't I just wouldn't get on a plane. That's the kind of world we live in. Security checkpoints at airport are a necessity, and like I said, I'm glad they are there.

That doesn't make me comfortable going through them, though.

But once you're on the plane, well, it's too late. Just sit back and enjoy. No use getting all uptight. Enjoy the exerience.

And I did. There's something beautiful and serene about being up there at 35,000 feet or so, soaring miles above the clouds. In a very strange way, it's as peaceful a thing as you could ever experience anywhere on solid ground.

God is up there, somewhere. It is up there in an airplane where you can truly feel something different. There's all kinds of hustle and bustle down here on earth, in our everyday lives. But up there, well, we are soaring around like eagles.

The view is always spectacular, whether it's a clear day or a thunderstorm. I've flown through those too. But to see God's sprawling creation, the world he has given us, from that vantage point -- His vantage point, I'd like to think -- well, it's just a neat thing.

We lost the game, but we got everything else out of the trip that we needed. The game was close, so we know we can compete against anybody we play. That creates optimism. There were no glitches in the airport at any time, and that's saying something when a football travel group of about 65 or so can make it through with no problems.

But for me, the most peaceful moments are up there in the air. And with some things going on right now, it was definitely what I needed. Thank you, God, for the peace.

On To More Positive Things

My apologies out there to anyone scared off the blog by the previous post and previous photo.

So in an effort to make up for any hard feelings, I thought I'd post something a little more positive today (see photo at right).

Yes, it's the photo of our next Vice President. Mrs. Vice President, actually.

You want to know how popular Mrs. Palin is right now? My nine-year old daughter sat down last night and watched intently as Sarah Palin began her speech at the RNC. Melody is at an age where she at least knows what's going on on television, anyway, and let's face it, having Palin on the Republican ticket is history.

It got way past Melody's bedtime, so we had to put our foot down and send her off to her room. But she requested that we set the DVR to record the rest of the speech and -- guaranteed -- she'll watch it some time in the next couple of days.

I never ever want this to be a political blog, but it is that time of the, well, year. And more than any other election cycle, perhaps, this one is all about family and family values. To be quite honest, I don't know enough about John McCain to know whether he's a Christian or not. Most politicians these days, sad to say, don't want to broadcast such information because it's not politically correct.

But I do know he's pro-life, and he's pro-family. That's all I need to know to get on board. The fact he's been one of the most courageous men to ever wear the uniform makes him that much more attractive.

And his pick for VP is absolute genius. Sarah is just like us -- a big family with all kinds of daily problems vying for our attention. She's from Alaska, which Jeannie commented the other night is hard to remember as an actual state. Her husband is somewhat athletic and works hard, apparently, as a union worker and fisherman. They have five beautiful children of varying ages, and yes, when you have kids, you have problems of all kinds.

And she's pro-life and pro-family, which makes her a double plus. She's a breath of fresh air in a political atmosphere that, most of the time, smells like rotten garbage.

So if my daughter is interested enough to watch, and learn something, and maybe one day draw inspiration from -- I'm all about Sarah Palin. McCain-Palin. Whatever.

That's pretty positive stuff.

Lord Of The Idiots II

"Gustav is proof there is a God in Heaven." Michael Moore

Is there anyone out there -- ANYONE -- surprised that these words would come out of this idiot's mouth?

Talk about stupid human tricks... living proof as to why you SHOULD vote Republican.