The Christmas Season has snuck up on me this year. That's right, it caught me by surprise. Just when I thought it was safe to plan to participate in all the holiday goings-on in our neighborhood and with our church, the unexpected happened. Many of my friends have followed our travails on Facebook. Who could imagine that both parents could injure themselves as severely as mine have this year?! I definitely didn't see this coming when I talked to my parents about moving into the apartment on our patio almost 2 years ago. In the midst of those troubles, time and circumstances have waited on no one. But, as sure as I'm sitting here, in spite of the difficulties, I'm glad my parents agreed to join us.
Please don't misunderstand. I'm not pouting about our misfortune. When I began down the "woe is me" road, I quickly remembered getting the phone call in May of 2009. The caller told me that my mother was in a car accident 3 hours away. Due to previous commitments, I would have to wait for 3 or 4 tortured hours later to go to her side. Talk about helpless...Now, after what we've experienced in the past 5 weeks, I'm so glad that when both parents recently fell injured, someone from our family was at their side within minutes to provide comfort until help arrived. I wouldn't trade that for anything - and I mean that.
Still, tonight, as I wait for the laundry cycle to finish and I hope that I will eventually be able to fall asleep, I think about our circumstances as well as those of others we know who are also experiencing difficult times. I remember a dear friend of our family who is deathly ill. Their family is caring for her, as they have for the several past months. Another co-worker is at the side of a parent who is being treated for cancer a whole state away. At the same time, my dear niece welcomed - at long last - the birth of her third child yesterday morning. Many more friends and acquaintances are coping tonight with grief, sadness and joys that are beyond my capacity to grasp or comprehend. Our family and I face uncertainty with my wife's employment as we race toward a new year. What will any of us do?
In spite of all these circumstances, I can't help but feel how incredibly blessed we are.
In the book of Lamentations, the Prophet Jeremiah writes these words in the midst of believable destruction, suffering and pain:
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet, this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him."
Lamentations 3:19-24
As the saying goes "God is good, all the time; All the time, God is good." I realize that what I've written may be considered offensive or be dismissed by some of my friends. That is not my intent in writing.
It is my hope to call to mind all those little blessing that are truly everywhere and are so easily overlooked. I want to take the time to appreciate what I see unfolding around me.
I want to express the deep hope that I have that, regardless of what takes place in 2011, we're not in this thing alone. There are people who care who are within arm's reach. We often need to let them know that WE need their help.
And finally, I want to remind myself - and others - that no matter how bad circumstances may seem, WE can make it.
We can. We are blessed.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Proud Beyond Words
(This was started on Saturday, December 11, 2010. The events of the ensuing week prevented its completion.)
Today, my son became a man. It is Christopher's 18th birthday, which is a landmark in every young man's life. As I look forward to what he will become, I am filled with memories of who he is and who I have known him to be.
As much as I want this day to be special, our circumstances are convoluted. His grandfather was admitted to the hospital a few hours ago. His grandmother is in recovery from a fall a few weeks back. As I sit here writing this, he is en route with his sisters so they can participate in the Christmas Parade in Montgomery, TX. It may not seem like much. But I have to ask: how many older siblings can be trusted with the absolute care of the younger ones? Chris takes his two sisters to and from school every day. And he's always been like that. I'm writing this because I've noticed and I want him to know it is not taken lightly.
As am reflecting today, I also remember another of his birthdays, 13 years ago in fact. We celebrated that birthday just after getting Chris home from the hospital. He had been rushed to the hospital before Thanksgiving that year with pneumonia and, as we discovered later, pleurisy. He was possibly near death and in a terribly weakened state. It was his 3rd bout with pneumonia/bronchitis in his 5 years and just never seemed to get rid of it each time. He was the super trooper throughout the experience, though. He didn't complain, was calm and pleasant throughout the ordeal. It was his demeanor which likely contributed to the condition getting to such and advanced stage. We just didn't know how bad it all was until he got to the hospital. With the help of the state-of-the-art technology at the time and medication, "Mister Christer" made a full recovery and overcame the physical ailments that he had not been able to before. For all who know him now, it is obvious he made a full recovery.
Ever since Chris was born, I was ever proud of him. But, when he was sitting there on the elk skin rug on the floor of my sister's house, I wanted him to grow up so I could play with him. I wanted him to get big enough to do stuff with me. It didn't take Chris long at all. When he was big enough to wear a baseball glove, I tried to get him to play catch with me, but he never cared much for the game, though. He wasn't much for anybody throwing hard balls at him. He did get interested in soccer and I became his coach. We learned the sport together. After 2 seasons, he pretty much had enough. After all, soccer players are not necessarily big kids and Chris had become a big kid and he didn't care for all the running that was involved.
Jr High rolled around and Chris discovered tackle football. He knew I had played, as well as his namesake, his 1st cousin, Chris Smith. During the Christmas Holidays before he started the 7th Grade, he and "Big Chris" talked about playing football. It was during that college bowl season and the NFL Playoffs that he started watching games with me so he could understand it. As the school year and football season approached, we went to the high school practice fields to run wind sprints to start conditioning. Chris, ever being the good sport, didn't complain much. I guess it was better than doing it alone. For those who know him, he's never been the aggressive type and football didn't necessarily suit him. He's sort of the "Ferdinand The Bull" among other bulls. He ended up playing for 3 seasons. In 7th grade, he tackled a kid and broke his arm and soon was given the nick-name "Knox-em Out." That nick-name followed him on into high school. During his Freshman year he hurt his back and endured the injury for several weeks before his mother and I sought medical attention effectively ended his season. I think it was that point where he began considering his future. Football would involve a lot of pain and Chris decided to look into his options.
During Jr High, Chris had taken interest in playing guitar, which is like saying Michelangelo picked up his first paintbrush. I gave him my Yamaha dreadnought acoustic guitar and he began playing it day and night. But, his musical abilities began to show long before he ever took interest in the instrument.
At the tender age of 3, his mother and I were youth pastors at a church in Kaufman, TX. One night, after church services were over, I was in my office and heard the sound of someone playing the drums from the auditorium. I didn't pay it any mind because usually any number of the teenagers in the church would go in there and play the drums when no one else was around. As I finished up in my office, I realized that I didn't know where Chris was and started looking around. It never occurred to me to check the auditorium. After checking everywhere else, I walked in to see my 3 year-old son teetering on the over-sized drum throne and drum kit. When he saw me, he smiled and stopped playing to say "Look, Daddy, I playin' da' drums!"
Now, my son is big enough to do things with. We've played in bands together, alternating between the two of us leading the band and playing guitar and bass. I truly enjoy getting to share the stage with him. He is so easy to play with and and he is a delight work with as a musician. I unequivocally can say that he is much more talented than I am musically and I can only imagine what he will become. It almost seems unfair now that when I am so thoroughly enjoying doing the things we do together that he is considering leaving home to go explore the opportunities that await him in the wide, wide world. But, I realize we have been preparing for this from the first time I saw him in the delivery room in Victoria, Texas 18 years ago.
I'm so thankful to God for giving us such a wonderful son. The truth is it has nothing to do with his incredible talents. He is an incredible human being. I give his mother credit for that. I'm just glad he has my last name. Love you, Chris!
Today, my son became a man. It is Christopher's 18th birthday, which is a landmark in every young man's life. As I look forward to what he will become, I am filled with memories of who he is and who I have known him to be.
As much as I want this day to be special, our circumstances are convoluted. His grandfather was admitted to the hospital a few hours ago. His grandmother is in recovery from a fall a few weeks back. As I sit here writing this, he is en route with his sisters so they can participate in the Christmas Parade in Montgomery, TX. It may not seem like much. But I have to ask: how many older siblings can be trusted with the absolute care of the younger ones? Chris takes his two sisters to and from school every day. And he's always been like that. I'm writing this because I've noticed and I want him to know it is not taken lightly.
As am reflecting today, I also remember another of his birthdays, 13 years ago in fact. We celebrated that birthday just after getting Chris home from the hospital. He had been rushed to the hospital before Thanksgiving that year with pneumonia and, as we discovered later, pleurisy. He was possibly near death and in a terribly weakened state. It was his 3rd bout with pneumonia/bronchitis in his 5 years and just never seemed to get rid of it each time. He was the super trooper throughout the experience, though. He didn't complain, was calm and pleasant throughout the ordeal. It was his demeanor which likely contributed to the condition getting to such and advanced stage. We just didn't know how bad it all was until he got to the hospital. With the help of the state-of-the-art technology at the time and medication, "Mister Christer" made a full recovery and overcame the physical ailments that he had not been able to before. For all who know him now, it is obvious he made a full recovery.
Ever since Chris was born, I was ever proud of him. But, when he was sitting there on the elk skin rug on the floor of my sister's house, I wanted him to grow up so I could play with him. I wanted him to get big enough to do stuff with me. It didn't take Chris long at all. When he was big enough to wear a baseball glove, I tried to get him to play catch with me, but he never cared much for the game, though. He wasn't much for anybody throwing hard balls at him. He did get interested in soccer and I became his coach. We learned the sport together. After 2 seasons, he pretty much had enough. After all, soccer players are not necessarily big kids and Chris had become a big kid and he didn't care for all the running that was involved.
Jr High rolled around and Chris discovered tackle football. He knew I had played, as well as his namesake, his 1st cousin, Chris Smith. During the Christmas Holidays before he started the 7th Grade, he and "Big Chris" talked about playing football. It was during that college bowl season and the NFL Playoffs that he started watching games with me so he could understand it. As the school year and football season approached, we went to the high school practice fields to run wind sprints to start conditioning. Chris, ever being the good sport, didn't complain much. I guess it was better than doing it alone. For those who know him, he's never been the aggressive type and football didn't necessarily suit him. He's sort of the "Ferdinand The Bull" among other bulls. He ended up playing for 3 seasons. In 7th grade, he tackled a kid and broke his arm and soon was given the nick-name "Knox-em Out." That nick-name followed him on into high school. During his Freshman year he hurt his back and endured the injury for several weeks before his mother and I sought medical attention effectively ended his season. I think it was that point where he began considering his future. Football would involve a lot of pain and Chris decided to look into his options.
During Jr High, Chris had taken interest in playing guitar, which is like saying Michelangelo picked up his first paintbrush. I gave him my Yamaha dreadnought acoustic guitar and he began playing it day and night. But, his musical abilities began to show long before he ever took interest in the instrument.
At the tender age of 3, his mother and I were youth pastors at a church in Kaufman, TX. One night, after church services were over, I was in my office and heard the sound of someone playing the drums from the auditorium. I didn't pay it any mind because usually any number of the teenagers in the church would go in there and play the drums when no one else was around. As I finished up in my office, I realized that I didn't know where Chris was and started looking around. It never occurred to me to check the auditorium. After checking everywhere else, I walked in to see my 3 year-old son teetering on the over-sized drum throne and drum kit. When he saw me, he smiled and stopped playing to say "Look, Daddy, I playin' da' drums!"
Now, my son is big enough to do things with. We've played in bands together, alternating between the two of us leading the band and playing guitar and bass. I truly enjoy getting to share the stage with him. He is so easy to play with and and he is a delight work with as a musician. I unequivocally can say that he is much more talented than I am musically and I can only imagine what he will become. It almost seems unfair now that when I am so thoroughly enjoying doing the things we do together that he is considering leaving home to go explore the opportunities that await him in the wide, wide world. But, I realize we have been preparing for this from the first time I saw him in the delivery room in Victoria, Texas 18 years ago.
I'm so thankful to God for giving us such a wonderful son. The truth is it has nothing to do with his incredible talents. He is an incredible human being. I give his mother credit for that. I'm just glad he has my last name. Love you, Chris!
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Remembering A Good Friend
I heard just a few minutes ago that an old, dear friend of ours passed away suddenly today. His name was Ed Courtney. My wife and I met Ed several years ago while we were youth pastors at Southside Assembly of God in Jackson, Mississippi. When I was hired, I was young and green and didn't know anything about being a paid church staff member. I learned a lot of difficult lessons and when it was all over, there were a few people that we managed to stay in touch with in the years that followed. Ed and his wife, Syble, were two of those few people. We've been able to keep track with them through the years as they traveled the globe as missionaries and allowed us to read of their adventures online. I wish I could say that I knew Ed longer than just the short time that we lived in Mississippi. But, God had other plans. However, as I'm grappling with the news of Ed's untimely passing, there is one life-changing encounter that Ed participated in with Danelle and me that probably no one - possibly Ed included - ever knew about.
In the fall of 1997, my wife and I were looking for direction and answers. We had been youth pastors in Mississippi from 1993-95 and we then returned to Texas to be on staff at First Assembly of God, in Kaufman, Texas. We were on staff there for 15 months before I resigned my position and returned to Malakoff, with my family, to live with my parents. My wife and I had 2 small children and were expecting our 3rd. We were in debt up to our eyes, we were emotional basket-cases and our marriage was in shambles. What were we to do? Where would we go? We had no idea.
About this time, I heard about a revival that was going on in Florida. It started in 1995 and was still meeting nightly. I had spoken to others who had been to this revival and it had made an impact on them and became convinced that I had to go and experience it for myself. My wife, being the good wife she is, she tried to be supportive. But, it was clear that taking a trip from Texas to Florida and back was probably not in our best financial interests. She tried to dissuade me, but I was convinced that we needed to go. So, she reluctantly went along with me.
We arrived in Florida on a Friday evening. We checked in our hotel and then went to the church service that night. We saw some crazy stuff. But, that's what we came to Florida for. After the service, we went back to our room got some sleep and prepared for the next day. While in the parking lot, we ran into our friend, Ed Courtney. He had come in from Jackson to catch the Saturday night and Sunday morning services. Ed had attended many of these services and was quite familiar with the schedule. After the Saturday services, we went and grabbed a bite to eat. Over dinner, Ed talked about the things that were going on in the church he was attending, River of Life, back in Jackson, MS. We discussed our plans and told him we'd be going back through Jackson on our way home. Ed asked us if we'd be interested in stopping by the church services at ROL. I was more interested in what was going on in Florida, but my wife told him we'd try to make it by there on our way. The next morning, we attended the morning service at the church in Florida with Ed. After it was over, we followed him to Jackson and went to the Sunday night service at ROL.
At River of Life that night, they had a special speaker, a missionary to Poland. He ministered to orphans who were released from Polish orphanages and had nowhere to go. He told his story and then offered to pray for anyone present who wanted any kind of special prayer. In the course of praying for people, he asked Danelle and me if we would let him pray for us. In the course of his prayer, he told us "you are going to experience a new beginning. God is going to start showing you things, what to do and what not to do." Those words stuck with us and carried us back to Texas the next day and the 13 years since. Within a month of returning from Florida, I took a job in Houston which marked a clear change in direction in my life and family.
Now, as I'm sitting here thinking of that weekend in Florida, it wasn't the trip to Florida and the revival that really made an impact on me. It in was that service in Mississippi that made the difference. In such a small way, I like to think Ed was responsible for that.
I wish I could tell this personally to Ed...I know I'll get to at some point...thanks for spending that weekend with us in Florida. You probably never knew it made such a difference for us, but it did.
In the fall of 1997, my wife and I were looking for direction and answers. We had been youth pastors in Mississippi from 1993-95 and we then returned to Texas to be on staff at First Assembly of God, in Kaufman, Texas. We were on staff there for 15 months before I resigned my position and returned to Malakoff, with my family, to live with my parents. My wife and I had 2 small children and were expecting our 3rd. We were in debt up to our eyes, we were emotional basket-cases and our marriage was in shambles. What were we to do? Where would we go? We had no idea.
About this time, I heard about a revival that was going on in Florida. It started in 1995 and was still meeting nightly. I had spoken to others who had been to this revival and it had made an impact on them and became convinced that I had to go and experience it for myself. My wife, being the good wife she is, she tried to be supportive. But, it was clear that taking a trip from Texas to Florida and back was probably not in our best financial interests. She tried to dissuade me, but I was convinced that we needed to go. So, she reluctantly went along with me.
We arrived in Florida on a Friday evening. We checked in our hotel and then went to the church service that night. We saw some crazy stuff. But, that's what we came to Florida for. After the service, we went back to our room got some sleep and prepared for the next day. While in the parking lot, we ran into our friend, Ed Courtney. He had come in from Jackson to catch the Saturday night and Sunday morning services. Ed had attended many of these services and was quite familiar with the schedule. After the Saturday services, we went and grabbed a bite to eat. Over dinner, Ed talked about the things that were going on in the church he was attending, River of Life, back in Jackson, MS. We discussed our plans and told him we'd be going back through Jackson on our way home. Ed asked us if we'd be interested in stopping by the church services at ROL. I was more interested in what was going on in Florida, but my wife told him we'd try to make it by there on our way. The next morning, we attended the morning service at the church in Florida with Ed. After it was over, we followed him to Jackson and went to the Sunday night service at ROL.
At River of Life that night, they had a special speaker, a missionary to Poland. He ministered to orphans who were released from Polish orphanages and had nowhere to go. He told his story and then offered to pray for anyone present who wanted any kind of special prayer. In the course of praying for people, he asked Danelle and me if we would let him pray for us. In the course of his prayer, he told us "you are going to experience a new beginning. God is going to start showing you things, what to do and what not to do." Those words stuck with us and carried us back to Texas the next day and the 13 years since. Within a month of returning from Florida, I took a job in Houston which marked a clear change in direction in my life and family.
Now, as I'm sitting here thinking of that weekend in Florida, it wasn't the trip to Florida and the revival that really made an impact on me. It in was that service in Mississippi that made the difference. In such a small way, I like to think Ed was responsible for that.
I wish I could tell this personally to Ed...I know I'll get to at some point...thanks for spending that weekend with us in Florida. You probably never knew it made such a difference for us, but it did.
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