Adapting

The last five months have been a transition for us as I retired from denominational service to take the leadership reins of Buckhorn Children & Family Services in rural Appalachian Kentucky. The transition has been dramatic and life-changing.

Leaving the streets of Washington, DC to adopt the rural back roads of KY was dramatic and life-changing in and of itself. Along KY 15, where I drive day in and day out, there are no motorcades, no sirens, no traffic jams, no buildings over two stories tall, and no concrete jungles. However, there are farms, lots of trees and greenery, and lots of curvy roads and tall mountains. Active and inactive coal mines are sited routinely as well as “curing barns” for locally grown tobacco.

Everybody you pass waves or nods their head in acknowledgement as you pass by. I don’t have to rush or head out early for fear of getting caught in traffic. Life is slower, less stressful and made palatable by the natural creation we are surrounded by. There are no sidewalks and street lights where I live but there is a dark, dark sky at night where we connect with a sky that is illuminated by grandeur of God’s handiwork. We had forgotten how beautiful the sky was at night.

Technology is slow getting to us as there is no cable service, no unlimited long distance telephone plans, and little cell phone coverage. So we purchased our first Dish Satellite system, pay extra for long distance calls, live with slower internet and bought a “mini” cell tower for our home to boost our cell service.

We had to change our normal patterns of shopping, dining out and outings that we so easily took advantage of and for granted while in DC. No longer do I grocery shop each day for our evening meal, the nearest Kroger is 20 miles away and the nearest Walmart is an hour away! So meals and trips to Walmart have to be planned. There is not an enormous selection of dining establishments. The closest Mexican Restaurant is cash only (never carried cash when living in urban areas), Chinese cuisine is 28 miles away, burger and fries are at the gas station a few miles down the road, and soup and a sandwich is at the hardware store! The area attractions are centered on nature, with lots of hiking, trail walking, rock climbing, repelling and fishing.

So as Donna and I adapt to our new home and culture, we do so missing some of the modern conveniences of urban life, yet all the while thanking God for this present adventure.

My Dad

Today I am thinking about fathers. The one who gave me life, the one who called me to faith through this son Jesus Christ, the one who adopted me when I married his daughter and the one who fathered me in ministry. Respectively, Tommy Creech, God, Rev. Ray Batson and Dr. Buddy McGohon have all had a hand in fathering me at some point in my life and I am ever grateful for the influence they had upon me.

All are still around except one, my biological father, Tommy. It is to him I memorialize on this Fathers Day weekend my short life journey with him. Death came too quick and I lost out. So here's my perspective of what I thought about dad as I grew up.

When I was...

4 yrs old, my dad can do anything;

5yrs old, my dad knows a lot;

6 yrs old, my dad is smarter than your dad;

8 yrs old, my dad doesn't exactly know everything;

10 yrs old, back in the day when my dad grew up things were different;

12 yrs old, dad doesn't know anything about that;

14 yrs old, dad wants to teach me what? I don't want to know how to do that;

16 yrs old, I'll never be like dad

19 yrs old, I'm getting married and I want dad to be my best man;

25 yrs old, dad knows more about it than what I thought;

28 yrs old, I think I'll ask dad about this;

35 yrs old, we all have our faults and desired re-dos, dad is really a better man than I ever thought;

37 yrs old, the older I get the closer I become to my dad;

38 yrs old, three weeks at the beach with my family, dad and mom...one of the best summers ever. Dad's really cool;

38 yrs old, I lost my dad;

45 yrs old, I wonder how dad would have handled this?;

50 yrs old, I wish dad could see his great-grandchildren;

51 yrs old, I'd give anything now if dad were here now so that I could talk this over with him. Too bad I didn't appreciate how smart his was. I could have learned a lot. Those things I did learn will be forever with me and passed down to my daughters.

Location:Scioto Dr,Louisville,United States

Life Chapters: End One, Begin Another

Thirty-three years ago I began my service to the local church, Calvary Baptist Church, in Barnwell , SC, my hometown. Since that time, I have had the opportunity to serve Pleasant Hill Baptist Church in Greer, SC; Mt. Lebanon Baptist Church in Greer, SC; Buckeye Forest Baptist Church in Spartanburg, SC; Jeffersontown United Methodist Church in Jeffersontown, KY; Walnut Street Baptist Church in Louisville, KY; and Oak Grove United Methodist Church in Decatur, GA. During this time I have also had the honor of serving the Montgomery Baptist Association in Montgomery, AL; Birmingham Baptist Association in Birmingham, AL; and the District of Columbia Baptist Convention in Washington, DC.
 

Throughout these 33 years I have journeyed with congregations through births, celebrations, tragedies and deaths. The one thing constant through all was God’s sustaining grace. God has never called one person to be perfect but has called all to be faithful. In my years of ministry within the Church, I have sought to be faithful, loving, and compassionate and filled with grace. I have sought to love all, including the unloving. I have sought to meet the needs of people where they are not where I want them to be. I have sought to be a minister of redemption not one of judgment.  Did I succeed in all my attempts? No, but I tried and when I failed I asked for forgiveness.

This past April, I retired and ended the chapter in my life of directly serving the local congregation by beginning a new life chapter through another ministry opportunity.  What precipitated this change? I retired not because of my lack of passion for the Church, but because I sensed the need to write another life chapter that would reconnect my ending with my beginning.

At 50 years of age, I asked myself, “How do I want to end?” That question haunted me for some time, especially since I loved Washington DC and all the initiatives in which we were involved. But there was still a yearning for something different. Different?  I was in the most powerful city in the world and rubbed elbows with powerful people and pastors every day. What can be different than serving the Church in DC? 

Nothing, so I found myself serving the Church in a different way. From the concrete jungle to the mountains of Appalachia Kentucky, my wife and I moved. Moved to a world far removed from what I had known and experienced for some time. A life where technology is still struggling to infiltrate, a people whose average individual annual income is $11,000, where 42% of the population lives in poverty, where only 10% of the population have a bachelors’ degree or higher and a state where 7,500 children are in the custody of the State.

As I begin to write the first sentences of this new life chapter I do so with a heavy, yet excited heart. Providing leadership to Buckhorn Children and Family Services is an awesome opportunity and challenge. I will keep you informed as I write this new life chapter.

The World of an Author

The world of an author is a universe unto itself.  The universe resides in the mind of the author.  The mind is the seat of power.  It is through the mind of the author that he gains power to conceive, birth  and control that universe in which he becomes the supreme being.

The author may receive ideas for the conception of his world through the environment around him, from others, life experiences, world observations and inspiration from God.  They are not constant and many go for long periods of time without a world to write about.

Once inspired, processed, and conceived in the mind of the author, the birth event takes place as she puts pen in hand or fingers to the keyboard.  It is through this medium that the author experiences the power to create/destroy, display good/evil, emote love/hate, perfect/defect, be friend/foe, paint gardens/deserts, promote peace/war, acknowledge God or neglect His existence.  The conceived world of an author is often a world of dichotomies.

I’ve thought a lot recently about the worlds I try to create through the magic of words. Lately, I have been experiencing dry spell of inspiration to write.  I’ve wondered why the silence, the lack of inspiration and the absence of words?  Sometimes my mind conceives and articles are created as fast as water flows down the stream.  Then other times there is a drought and the soul thirsts for inspiration to create only to taste the dust of silence.

After much reflection, I’ve learned that I don’t always have to have something to say or an article to write.  A pause is not always bad. Silence can be golden if you allow it to be so. I am not comfortable with silence. I like noise...the tv or radio on all the time, even if I am not listening. A noise maker at night, because I can't sleep in silence. I am sure there is some psychological rationale or diagnosis for this condition but the fact remains I don't like silence! 

I realized also to remind myself daily to pace myself by slowing down and intentionally look at the world, those around me and spend some time in silence with myself and God. As a writer, I wonder how God conceived the idea of creating a universe, where did His inspiration come from? How long did he conceive the idea in His mind before speaking it into existence?

Finally, I realized that I don’t have to have the perfect world to write into existence.  Each time an article is in print I find mistakes; things I should have said and lessons that went unrecognized at the writing.  My world, even though I am the creator, can’t be perfect because I am not. This practice and discovery is opening up worlds I never knew existed. I am beginning to like taking life slow, acknowledging my imperfections and adjusting to a little silence.

The God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and the father of Jesus Christ IS perfect.  As Creator of the universe and its creatures, He created everything with perfection it was only through the freedom of human will that imperfection crept in. Once my world goes to print, a rewrite is not possible but with God, He daily gives His creation the opportunity to rewrite the imperfections and once again bring to His lips “It is good.”  I like how I feel when I see an article come to life in print and on display.  My joy in no way compares to the emotion that God must experience each day when He looks at His world. 

So don't worry about the silence that may befall your life. Just sit, listen, observe and reflect. In time, words will come.

PEANUT

I remember vividly the first time I encountered him. It was during my first month as Minister of Music, Youth and Children at Pleasant Hill Baptist Church. Donna and I were newly married and had trekked off to college to journey on the path towards a vocational career in ministry. I had served previously with churches in my hometown but this was the first time away from home and family, headed toward a career path I knew absolutely nothing about. The move and the new path seemed daunting, intimidating and a little scary. But the folk of Pleasant Hill changed all of those feelings, especially the Morrow and Waldrop families.

He wasn’t much younger than Donna and me. He was in high school and involved in the youth ministry of Pleasant Hill. His parents sang in the adult choir.  His older brother and grandparents attended the church as well. I can’t remember how it all happened but to this day, I am indebted to the fact that it did, thankful that Yates and Helen Morrow took Donna and me in as family. Family, who fed us, entertained us, prayed for us and provided a “safe sanctuary.”

As you find in most southern rural communities, Yates and Helen lived in the house next door to his parents and their oldest son, Gary, lived next door to his grandparents.  Peanut lived in his parents’ household. All gathered in a “city block” size tract of land with space to be apart yet remain together.

Peanut was not his real name but it should have been. I am sure I was told but I can’t remember now how he got the nickname. Although he was in high school, he was beyond his years when conversing on various subjects.  He always had a unique and often challenging perspective. He had the ability to initiate deep thought, challenge the status quo and offer a differing ideology.  He could debate with the fierceness of a Princeton grad and with the speed of batting an eye, could interject a joke and have the whole room laughing. These were his gifts.

Yesterday, the folk of the Pleasant Hill community celebrated the life and home-going of Peanut who died suddenly at age 48. Peanut was our friend, our family, one of the first to hold our first born.  He was the resident debater and comedian. Although we didn’t maintain regular contact over the years, his memory will forever be etched in our experiences of life and on this day of reflection, his memory, like in those early days, challenges me.

I remember two significant gifts that Peanut possessed: the gift of love and the gift of laughter. Peanut loved Donna, Ashley and me as if we were biological family. He supported us, respected us and would help us with any chore upon request. I witnessed the love he had for his grandparents, mother, step-father, brother and niece. As in all families, he could argue with the best but at the end of the day, he loved.

Just as Peanut loved, he also laughed. Some of the funniest moments of my life were initiated by Peanut. He could turn any experience, observation or conversation into a laughable moment. There was one time, without any thought of danger he and his brother, Gary, crawled into an abandon gold mine with me in the deep woods of Holly Springs. I remember sitting in that dark, damp oversized “rat hole” when Peanut brought clarity and reality to what we had actually done. We could do nothing but laugh. People fell in love with him because his laughter was contagious and many people caught it!

While he loved and laughed, he also battled with life, just as we all do. He battled with decisions about lifestyle, career, family and his relationship with God. But then again, don’t we all? Like most of us, he will not be a candidate for sainthood but I am sure there is a reward or two when he meets his Savior and God.

When I reflect upon his life lessons I find that he has left me with these: (1) Love is a priceless commodity, one that is not given out often but is needed regularly and in big doses. Love more than you hate, encourage more than you discourage.  Be there for others and love yourself.  Let those around you know often that they are loved. (2) Laughter is the best medicine. Laughter heals, paves the path toward love and puts life in perspective. Don’t be so serious; learn to laugh. (3) Family isn’t necessarily all about biology. Family can be anybody whom you let in. Let more people into your life. (4) When you make a good decision, celebrate. When you make a bad decision, acknowledge it and move on. Don’t beat yourself up.

Peanut will be missed. He will be missed by his grandmother, mother, son, daughter, brother, nieces, nephews, in-laws and friends. Through his death, love and laughter in the world has become a little less in a time when we need more. May we fill the void and honor Peanut by loving and laughing a little more.

 

An Imprint

It was 1:55 a.m. on a Thanksgiving morning.  I held his hand, caressed his head and wiped one final tear from his watering eye and whispered in his ear thanks for loving me and being my granddad.  He breathed his last and went to his eternal home.  My friend, my hero, my granddaddy Wood, at 81 years of age, died.

I must be strong, I told myself. I called Hospice, the funeral home owner and then helped load the body in the hearse. I couldn't sleep so I wrote the obituary, planned the funeral and contacted the pall bearers.   

I was to deliver the eulogy.  I didn’t know if I could do it, but it was his request.  I honored his request and spoke for 20 minutes on the influence one man had upon my life.  It was a good funeral; he would never have believed how much influence he had upon the people of Barnwell County, SC after serving 35 years as a law enforcement officer. Chief of Police, Police Officers, Sheriff, Deputy Sheriffs and Game Wardens served as Honorary Pallbearers with all badges draped in black. Family, friends, hunting buddies, politicians and strangers gathered in respect. It was a good feeling to such him honored in this manner.

Later that day, it was time to leave, head back to our ministry field of Birmingham, AL. Before leaving, my family and I stopped by his grave site to take one final view of all the lovely flowers.  The crowd was gone, it was just me and my family…no role to play, just a grandson with his young family at the grave site of one whom he loved dearly. It was time…it was my turn to release my emotions and grieve. It was hard, it had been building up all week and I now needed to let go. 

This was one of the first times my girls saw me cry over a loved one. There had been no immediate family deaths up until this point. Seeing this, my youngest, Stephanie (at that time 6 years old), came up and hugged my leg and asked me, Dad is this a crying situation?  I told her it was and in the midst of my grief was a smile, a lesson and ray of hope as I witnessed her later actions.  Before we left, she wanted granddaddy to know she was there, so through her creative mind she placed her hand on the soft dirt of the freshly constructed grave, pressed heavily with the weight of her little body and left her imprint.  Now he’ll know I was here!

I learned a lesson that day.  Adults need to know that it is okay to grieve in the presence of our loved ones.  Grieving is good for the soul and mind.  Our children need to know that adults get sad and that life is not always easy, a state of ecstasy or designed for our pleasure. Life is hard and we need each other to make it to the next. Secondly, people in our midst need to know we’re here.  Just as Stephanie wanted her granddaddy to know she was here in his death, we need to let people know we are here through life by imprinting our love, support and encouragement upon those whom we encounter.