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Friday, September 4, 2015

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We had this van. It was a great van. It got us where we needed to go. It had been a reliable vehicle until this one trip. The van decided to take up heavy smoking. We had just arrived in this town where we would be staying, and suddenly the van began to smoke! Some good friends of ours directed us to a mechanic that we could trust. And he gave us the exciting news that our engine had blown and we needed to replace it. Well, after investigating all our options, we decided that those dollars would do more repairing our vehicle than replacing it, except we didn't have any dollars to put toward it.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

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My son had more bruises on his body than I've ever seen. He was playing freshman football, and he paid a price. I mean, the coaches ran him until he almost dropped. They ran the guys through all kinds of exercises-hitting, tackling, and sweating. And some guys actually quit because it was just too much. But finally, the games began, and they were winning. And after one of the games they had a great celebration coming back on the bus. They weren't thinking very much about their bruises, because they had just had a 20-0 shut out and they were keeping their winning streak in tact. And that afternoon, my son weighed the pain he's experienced against that pleasure. Now, what he concluded may help you weigh yours.

Friday, August 7, 2015

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Five-year-old Jeremy started school in the Fall, and it was more than he bargained for. It was his second morning of his kindergarten experience. Mom got Jeremy up and started helping him get ready. And then came this question, "Do I have to go back to school?" He wasn't counting on an encore. His rationale was, "Well, I already went yesterday." His mother told us, "I didn't have the heart to tell him he's got twelve more years of going to school." Well, he went off to day two - of year one - of twelve more years.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

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Since we're not all military types, it's probably good to explain what a beachhead is before we talk about one. A beachhead is not where the beach begins. And it's not a guy who just thinks about getting to the beach all the time. In wartime, a beachhead is pretty serious business. It's a small piece of ground that you try to take as your first step in taking all the ground that your enemy holds.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

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My friend Jim loves to wear this shirt that says, "I've been to the wilderness". That's what it says on the front. On the back it says, "I can handle anything." Sounds a little cocky maybe, but he did earn the right to wear the shirt. He went out on a two-week wilderness program where they pushed him, and all those on the trip, to go way beyond their limitations. Running for miles, climbing for hours with a heavy backpack, living off the land, blazing trails, enduring the heat, going solo for two days with almost nothing to live on. Hard? Yes. Fun? Not particularly. Worth it? Ask Jim. Or, better yet, read his shirt. "I've been to the wilderness. I can handle anything!"

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

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Man, did my wife and I grow up in two different worlds! While I was growing up in a little apartment on the South Side of Chicago, my future wife was living in the Ozarks in a tarpaper cabin, wallpapered with Montgomery Ward catalog pages to keep out the winter wind. They called that area "Trail's End", and it was. When her Dad got out of the service, his parents gave him some land where he literally bulldozed a road and then a lot out of the woods. I think my wife's early years sound a little like something out of Laura Ingalls Wilder or the Waltons, the old TV show.

Friday, July 10, 2015

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At first I thought I was looking at a cow from Mars. We were driving through an area of large dairy and cattle farms when I glanced over and there just inside this barbed wire fence was a cow with a big metal ring around her neck. A rod of metal was sticking up from the top of the ring and a rod sticking down from the bottom. Well my wife grew up on a farm with cows, so she was able to help me realize that this is what she called a fence crawler.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

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At one time our offices were on the third floor of an old factory building. There were a lot of stairs, and they had a pretty steep pitch. One of our team members dropped by one day with her beautiful four-month-old daughter, Katie. Mom was tired. And needless to say, the child wasn't able to climb up the stairs to the third floor on her own. Sometimes adults could barely make it. Mom needed to carry Katie in her arms the whole way. The sight of her carrying her daughter? I hate to say it was almost amusing. Mom was out of breath as she tried to recover. But not Katie! No, she was all cute and wide-eyed. She's not sweating; she's not panting. No, she's totally relaxed, totally cool. Of course she didn't have to do any of the work.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

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For those of us who have traveled many summers with our Native American outreach team, it will always be remembered as the Night of the Bat. I was with a team of about 35 young Native Americans on a reservation in the Northwest. Most of us were staying in tents or teepees, and a few girls were sleeping in the dining hall. A few of us were in that hall wrapping up for the night, and suddenly a bat somehow got in the room and began doing aerial laps around the room. The reactions were priceless. The girls crawled into their sleeping bags, covered up totally, and screamed like "wolf man" was on the loose. There, huddled in one corner, was this mound of moving, screaming, wiggling sleeping bags. And the rest of the camp was waking up fast. Everyone was running toward the dining hall to see what awful terror had invaded.

Monday, April 20, 2015

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My friend, Jerry, was a pilot who's gone home to be with the Lord that he loved. At his memorial service, his son told some of the stories of Jerry's very adventurous life. He was pretty unflappable. I mean, that's a pretty good characteristic for a pilot, right?

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