Traveling the Rock Road

I was recently reminded of one summer day when my buddy and I were out cruising in his brand new Pontiac Lemans. With a 12 pack of PBRs chilling in an ice chest in the backseat, we didn’t have a destination; we just wanted to ride for we felt on top of the world and were enjoying the day too much to have a care; that’s about the time he came into view. This old man was walking along the highway wearing a long coat lugging a dirty cloth satchel over his shoulder. He looked odd donning a winter coat on such a hot day and he was moving so slow that we felt the need to stop and give him a lift. I climbed in back and as soon as he got in the car the oder this man carried nearly made us sick. Underneath that big coat were at least two other jackets and maybe two shirts. My friend stepped on the gas and we rolled down all the windows to get some air circulating before we lost consciousness! This weary traveler opened up all the shirts and coats down to a t-shirt to let the air hit his body and then closed his eyes for a spell; not knowing how long he had been out there I’m sure he was completely exhausted. Trying to talk to him was futile as we soon realized he was completely deaf, so I took a beer out of the cooler and passed it up to him. He didn’t spend a minute drinking it straight down. Passed him another with the same results; finally on the 3^rd bottle the major portion of his thirst have been quenched and he now took his time drinking. It was at this point he began to unfold a portion of his life’s story.

“I live in Toledo at the shelter but when I was your age I used to be a test driver for a major tire company down in Akron. One day it occurred to me I was never paid my last week’s earnings; $42. So I walked all the way there to get my money, took almost a month but I made it. Talked to a guy at the front gate of the company and told him my story. He had me wait there while he went inside. When he came back he had the money in hand and said, yeah you’re right, here ya go.” Sensing his mental fitness was not what it should be, we had no way of knowing if he actually made it all the way to Akron or not; figured he got confused and stopped at the first factory that seemed familiar, probably a security guard took up a collection from people working there just to get him to leave. He took out a plastic baggie of cigarette butts, rolled two or three in a cigarette paper, lit it and started again. “Yeah back in the 30s and 40s I would go out on a test track and drive as hard and fast as I could so they could see how well their tires would hold up, they even took movies of me that played in theaters showing off my skills behind the wheel.” A long pause before, “Yeah I was something special back then.” Other than some mumbling we couldn’t make out, he didn’t say another word.

When we got to Toledo we asked directions where the shelter was located and dropped our new friend off in front, but not before sticking a $20 bill in his pocket, I guess maybe to make ourselves feel good for helping the old guy. As we drove away I could see him in the side mirror watching us until we were out of sight. Perhaps in that moment he was remembering a time when he felt on top of the world and enjoyed life so much he didn’t have a care; maybe he hoped we’d turn around and take him with us. Who knows, but years later when I thought about this chance encounter I wondered what became of the old test driver; and just how much difference really was there between him and me.

I thought of a quote I used carry with me, “When something bad happens you have three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.”

I don’t know what happened in that man’s life, but evidently something that took away who he saw himself as and what he believed gave his life status. I’ve seen it several times over in others including me. When I realized my reach for musical stardom was at an end, I would still look back at those days as having more importance than what lay ahead of me in other opportunities, even if they didn’t bring the accolades of many, there was still worth to my life.

For me that lesson came home to roost when I gave my life over to Christ and learned He had a purpose for me, just as He has a purpose for all who believe on Him.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19

Many, like today’s “Traveler of the Rock Road,” have seen when the path ahead of them is smooth and easy, even rewarding, but do not know what to do when the road becomes rough. That, my friends, is where the hand of God and the fortitude He puts in each of us won’t take us back to the past, but can certainly brighten our future. The choice is ours.

“Don’t be afraid to keep moving on, for what was before, now has gone. God wants to accomplish so much more, but we need to move forward in the Lord.” M.S. Lowndes

See ya next time!

Cath and I traveled to northwest Ohio last week where we found ourselves at a birthday (so to speak) being celebrated on the shores of Lake Erie. Actually it was folks from my graduating class who had gathered together to commemorate that most would be turning 60 this year. (Yeah, I’m older but they still let me hang out with them!)

I suppose you could say there wasn’t anything incredibly special about this gala; we had some prizes, raffles, a great dinner and even sang Happy Birthday to the class. Other than that it was just people hanging out talking, laughing and smiling. Talking. Laughing. Lots of Smiling.   Perhaps when I say it wasn’t incredibly special that may not be entirely true. You see our class is little different when it comes to gatherings. Most high school reunions are held every 5 years, some 10, and I know a few that seldom if ever had met after graduation. Would you believe since the year 2008 this group has come together five times! I’ve told that stat to other people who have made comments like, “Your class trying to set a record or what?!” And “You guys must be one large group of party animals!” Then I’ve also heard “You like each other that much to meet like that? Awesome”!

As I was driving over from Indiana for this latest celebration, I gave some thought to the question of just what it is that brings the class of 1973 together so often. For me and my Lady it’s partly a reason to come home where we grew up since we have no family left to visit there. Truthfully, I wasn’t well connected to my classmates during high school years; my closest relationships were with the band I was in and they were all older and out of school. Still I enjoy being at these functions particularly watching people’s eyes light up when they spot precious people from their past as they arrive, and thus begins the talk and the laughter, and yes the forever smiles that would go on all night if allowed. I began to see in my mind what makes this class so special, but I wanted to hear from others their opinion on the subject. So I asked a number of folks at this last gathering, “What is it that you think makes our class special?” A couple of them had to think for a minute but most gave an answer right away. “It’s because we care for each other.” “After all these years these are the ones who relate to who I am the best.” “It doesn’t matter who you are out there in the world; you’re accepted here.” “No matter how long it’s been we pick right back up as if no time has passed whatsoever.”

As I put these thoughts to paper I suddenly realized these are not descriptive of a high school reunion group, these folks are defining what we generally call, Family.

“Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile, and who love you no matter what.”

I know some will disagree with me, but I truly believe that this group I simply refer to as “73” can proudly be seen as more than a group of aging teenagers if you please, they truly possess something special. It has nothing to do with status since we all have had diverse levels of success since leaving school. I firmly believe it’s something richer than rank or class, it’s true and genuine “caring” for one another.

I’m reminded of a quote by my favorite author C.S. Lewis, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

Thank you 73, for you have made this “Traveler of the Rock” and his Lady feel special, because of your care for us, and for each other.

“Good friends care for each other, Close friends understand each other, but True friends stay forever, beyond Words, beyond Distance, beyond Time”

No argument here!
See ya next time!!

Couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked into the crowded room and got a glance of one of the last guys I thought I’d see at a low key function like this one was. There was old Jesse, one of the craziest, hard living, party all the time fellows I ever knew. He had quite a reputation of living for the moment but not being able to remember a whole lot about it the next morning. I liked old Jess, everyone did, but we didn’t hang out with him much mainly because I felt his lifestyle would put him in an early grave and there was no desire in me to follow suit. He once told me if he didn’t drink 6 beers first thing in the morning or smoke some good marijuana, he didn’t feel natural. He’d say; “Hey, you only live once and it might end up short; so I’m going to go for all the gusto and living I can get!” I had to agree with Jesse, the way he lived there’s no doubt he was having a good time, but he also had me believing he wouldn’t be around long enough to grow old. Now here he was at a gathering to hear an author talk about books he had written. He was standing with several others, drinking coffee, laughing and looking more alert than I had ever remembered seeing from him in the past. I walked up and casually said “Jess?”

He turned to see who called his name, and then a big smile covered his face. “Hey Miller, how’d you sneak into this place?!!” I wanted to ask him the same thing, but he dominated the conversation as if he didn’t want me to say a whole lot. He introduced me to his wife, a very lovely woman who I spoke to briefly before Jesse said, “Well we’ve got to get to our seats, good to see you John.” I returned his words and he was gone leaving me trying to figure out what just happened.

After the author was finished speaking, people were milling around again drinking punch and making small talk. I was standing in a small group when I saw Jesse heading what I thought was my way. Instead he pushed passed me, grabbed another guy by the arm and said “I heard you talking about me and you better stop now!” You could see the fear in this guy’s eyes and the look of anger in Jesse’s that said he meant business. Returning to his wife Jesse moved to the other side of the room, but I could see him looking my way.

Some time passed and I was getting ready to leave when Jesse walked up, “Hey Miller, can we go outside and talk for a minute?” After seeing his outburst I was a little hesitant, but agreed and we went to the parking lot.”
“That guy in there,” He started, “Well we use to hang out and get loaded a lot together and he was telling people in there about it and how crazy I’d get.” I was trying to find a diplomatic way of saying what my thoughts were. “Okay, but the fact is its true, and I’m not trying to make you mad, but you used enjoy being seen as the craziest of the crazy. Has that all changed now?” Jesse smiled before saying, “You saw my wife, that’s what changed. When I met Pam she was the first to look past my stupid ways and see me for who I really am, who I could be with her in my life. Since then I haven’t been stoned or drunk in over ten years and we now have two beautiful daughters that we’re raising to love Jesus and grow up doing the right things. That guy telling others of how I used to be is something I want to forget and never have my wife and children exposed to. I’m not that person anymore; that was then, this is now.”

Jesse and the way he now lived reminded me of one of my favorite quotes: “We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.” Chuck Swindoll

Jesse was aware that many still remembered his earlier life, but he was determined to show that person no longer existed; a new person with a new life had emerged, one that would bring honor to his wife, his family, and his Lord.

2 Corinthians 5:17 – “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.”

My man Jesse, another “Traveler of the Rock Road” didn’t see life as anything more than a constant party that you got the most out of you could and then you died. Along the way he met someone who showed him he was more important than that, to others, to himself, and to a God that loves him dearly. At that moment Jesse would tell you “Life” finally began.

“The old Jesse, yeah I knew that crazy manic, quite a character that guy! But he’s no longer around and he sure can’t hold a candle to the new Jesse anyway. Don’t believe me ask his Lady and his Lord, they’ll show you a new and better man has been born.”

See ya next time!!

I remember how sick I felt right after the accident, didn’t know if I wanted to cry or cuss. To anyone else it probably wasn’t that big of a deal, but to me it left a sick feeling in my stomach as I stared at the devastation. Okay, so what am I making the big deal about, wrecked car, broken picture window, what?!! Something even worse than these; it was an ink blot on one of my favorite pictures! Now that I have you scratching your head let me explain.

Years back as a drummer I was privileged to work with two of the finest musicians I had ever played music with. Not just because of their talents, which were exceptional, but also the chemistry we had between us. We were able to read each other, musically speaking, in such way that we developed a unique sound and blend that I had never experienced with any other combo I worked with. We used to joke that if one of us made a mistake the other two would instinctively catch it and make the same error as if it was meant to be like that. Of all the bands I was ever with this was the one I felt was going to do something special. Unfortunately, like so many other talented musical groups spanning the country, that was not to be the case and after a couple of years we gave up the pursuit of stardom, so to speak, and found ourselves going in different directions musically, occupationally and geographically. But even though we no longer performed together, a special bond of friendship still existed, something that I cherish to this day. On the last night we were together someone took a picture of the three of us that I’ve kept to this day. Now because of clumsiness on my part there was an ink spot about ¼ inch in diameter right in the middle. Every time I looked now it was the first and most prominent thing I saw. If someone else looked at it, it was; “Oh, how’d you get that ugly spot on it?” It became such an aggravation each time I looked at what was once precious to me and how I ruined it, that I put the picture away so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

A few years passed and one day when I was cleaning out a desk drawer I came across the picture again. As soon as I saw that ugly botch I grimaced and started to shove it back in the drawer to hide it once again. But then, I stopped and took a good look at it for the first time since the accident. I began to look past the imperfection at three individuals, three close friends and the items like the clothes they were wearing back then, the length of hair (when all of us could still grow hair), but mostly the smiles and laughter we shared that final time together. As I sat there I began to smile again, just like before the distracting mar. I was no longer seeing it as the main item on the picture; I was finally, once again, seeing the splendor of that captured moment in time.

Leo Tolstoy once said “Happiness does not depend on outward things, but on the way we see them.”

As I ponder this thought it reminded me of picture and the spot. I became so obsessed with the tarnish that I could no longer see the real picture, even though it was still there. The spot didn’t cover or hide the picture; it just drew my attention away from it and in the process stole joy from me. I’ve come to realize that there are many “spots” out there that try to hide the greater picture from us. These spots can be mental as well as physical, like the thought you’re not attractive as someone else, or you’re overweight, perhaps a physical disability, or even just one person out of many who has treated you bad. These are all spots, robbers and thugs that make an attempt to take what God intended for you–joy, happiness, beauty, and even love.

My man Max Lucado says it like this, “You weren’t an accident. You weren’t mass produced. You aren’t an assembly-line product. You were deliberately planned, specifically gifted, and lovingly positioned on the earth by the Master Craftsman.”

And still, “If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning… Face it, friend. He is crazy about you!

There are many spots, many stumbling blocks in life that attempt to hide that love He has for you. You may not be able to remove it, but you can learn to look past it so that you may see the real picture, one filled with more beauty and joy than perhaps you realized existed.

Romans 15:13- “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

See Ya Next Time!

I didn’t notice at first, but it was soon evident by the blank stare and the painful expression of sadness that tears were getting ready to burst forth. I was explaining to this young man the duties of his new occupation, what would be expected of him, and how he could make the job easier by listening to the advice I was giving him. It was at this point I realized he wasn’t listening to me, his mind was somewhere else; so I waited.

It started with a couple of tears running down his face, but within seconds it was full scale crying at its best. Even though I knew what the problem was I felt it best at that moment to remain silent, and lend an arm over his shoulder. Some would call that moment, an end to a dream. Others would say it was the beginning of reality. I prefer to look at it as a combination of both.

I had known this young man since his earliest days and even though he was a good kid that everyone liked, he was also a conniver and manipulator. If there was certain outcome this boy wanted to see, he had the uncanny ability to ascertain the situations in ways to accomplish the end results he sought. I had seen him work this personality magic he possessed many times with success. If on those rare occasions it didn’t come together as he had hoped he’d simply wait, regroup, and go at it from a different angle to finally accomplish his purpose. Yep this guy knew how to work the angles to get what he wanted, and most of the time it was just to get by. He wasn’t interested in accolades from tremendous feats; he was more concerned what was the least he could do that would be just enough to get what he wanted. Like I said he wasn’t a bad guy, he was just one of those people who didn’t want to play by the rules of life to get ahead. He had done this with school grades, part time jobs and even what he loved most, sports. And he had been warned by many that one day it would catch up with him and he wouldn’t have a backup plan to call on; which is where we find ourselves in the story.

After graduation he wanted to go on to college, but he knew his high school grades had not been good enough. So began his efforts to make that happen, unfortunately this time the plan didn’t come together. He had already had his first major setback in life when he was kicked off the football team his senior year. Now he was facing another seeing all his friends, including his girlfriend and brother leave for school while he stayed behind to work a job to earn money to go at a later date. It was my job to educate him about the hard and dirty work he would soon be doing. And the young man was angry, at himself, me and half the world. As the tears cascaded down his face, the realization of his situation had come home to roost. No more plots and plans to get what he wanted, he was stuck in a situation where there was no way out and the only thing left was just to face it the best he could.

J.C. Watts was quoted as saying, “Character is doing the right thing when nobody’s looking. There are too many people who think that the only thing that’s right is to get by, and the only thing that’s wrong is to get caught.”

This young man was not a bad individual by any means, but he was blinded to the truth of his condition; the more effort he put forth to manipulate life, the harder it would become to live it properly and fully. The crash and burn he experienced was a valuable lesson on what it meant to be a “Man of Honor.” He began to see where the mistakes lay in his life and what it was going to take to eradicate them, in other words a rebirth of everything in his life, morally, emotionally, physically but mostly, spiritually.

Colossians 3:23: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.”

2 Chronicles 15:7: “But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.”

It was little less than a year that my young friend spent learning a lesson about life and himself. Something must have caught on because he went on to learn a trade, get an education and become a teacher, plus marry a beautiful girl that God picked to be his helpmeet, and now they have two beautiful girls.

I just heard from him yesterday, got a note that went like this:

What can I say? Happy Father’s Day!

You’re the Best above the Rest.

Guiding me through Life

Helped me choose the best Wife

Taught me to ride a Bike

And how to be a father because of You

You modeled a man of honor as I Grew

Thanks for letting me do my own Things

And for blessing me with musical Jeans

You gave me knowledge with the good and the Bad

I thank our Lord and Savior for making you my Dad

Oh, did I forget to mention I was talking about my youngest son?!! Sorry, my bad.  I’m thankful for his kind words, like any dad, I only wish I could live up them better.

But as we “Travel the Rock Road” we meet many other sojourners like ourselves, perhaps in the same house walking a portion of the same road. And each person, each Traveler must make their own way and decisions. But I firmly believe all of us will have opportunity to help and guide others when they don’t know the way or maybe understand what’s expected of them in life. Still the end result is in the hands of each of us.

As one put it, “Let us choose wisely and let us choose life.”

See Ya Next Time!!

Last week I had dinner at a family style restaurant, the type that after you eat you go up to the counter and pay for your meal. On this day, I had to wait for moment before paying due to a little drama being played out at that moment. Seems this elderly gentleman had called in a take-out order and was making an issue with the girl behind the counter. He never raised his voice or got ugly but he wanted to let her know that because she was in such a hurry to get him off the phone she did not listen to his entire order and hung up before he was done. “Oh no,” she argued, I heard everything you said clearly and made sure it was ready.” “Well then, there were special but simple instructions on one of the dinners, tell me what they were,” the man countered. She stared at him for a moment, then hung her head: “You’re right and I don’t know. I’m sorry and I promise it will never happen again.” I half expected this guy to tear into her or ask for the manager. Instead a gentle smile came across his face and his words were gracious. “I know how hectic restaurant business can be, I used to own one. But when dealing with anyone, you have to treat them like they’re the most important thing you have to do, that’s just consideration, that’s good customer service.” The girl nodded in agreement but continued to look down as she took his money to pay for the order. When she finished and handed him his change he handed back to her a sizable and generous tip. “Here, let’s use this as a better reminder of what you need to do from now on; after all the next person may not be as lovable as me.” Now the girl looked up and gave him a big beautiful smile, “Thank you so much sir, I will next time I promise!” Now I was smiling and continued to do so all the way out to the car, not only for the kindness I had just witnessed, but for the memory that was flooding my mind of a moment where I almost wasn’t as kind as this gentleman.

It was Christmas and the kids were all preteens. We had just finished opening all the presents when a revelation occurred, most of the gifts we gave the children needed batteries, something we totally forgot to buy. So I had to head out into the cold to find someplace open to buy what was needed. Needless to say I wasn’t in the best of moods when I pulled into the only convenience store I could find that had any. It didn’t help my disposition any when I saw the crowd and there was only one girl working checkout, and she seemed to be having her own problems. The cash register she was using messed up so she had to have everyone move to a new line, then she inadvertently charged the wrong customer for a gas purchase. Finally while bagging up some items, she dropped something that broke and made a mess. “Oh for Pete’s sake,” I thought, “Where did they get this kid!” I wasn’t angry, but I sure was impatient, “Come on, let me pay for these batteries and get out of this nut house,” I whispered to myself. The person right in front of me wasn’t as quiet; finally reaching the counter he let her have it with both barrels yelling how her incompetence at doing a simple minded job was ridiculous. He made a few other uncalled for comments before he left, but I was no longer paying attention to him, I was now seeing the girl for what seemed like the first time. Her face was red and her eyes now glassy as she fought back the tears, this child couldn’t have been more than 20 years old. “Hey beautiful, you okay?” With all the strength she could muster to keep from crying, she got the words out, “I’m sorry, but I’m doing the best I can. I just started recently and they scheduled me for today by myself. I’d like to be home like everyone else with my little girl, but I need the money.” Reaching in my coat pocket I pulled out a 4oz jar candle, something I make, and said “Merry Christmas!” That brought a smile and a heartfelt “Thank you!” I then followed up with “Now listen to me, relax and concentrate only on the person who’s in front of you. Take care of their need and then move on the next. If you start to feel overwhelmed remove the lid from the candle and take a good whiff, it’ll help relax you and get you through the rest of the day. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks, you’re doing great.” It surprised me a little when I heard a couple of voices behind me say, “That’s right, you’re doing fine.” I had almost forgotten there were other people listening to us.

These are two examples of how to approach someone who needs correcting or help without tearing that individual down. It’s unfortunate for me to say that as a youngster, I had a person in my life that seemed to enjoy ridiculing me excessively when I made mistakes; I’ve even seen ones in positions of leadership with this hateful demeanor. During the years I worked with troubled youth, I’d find the hard core kids would be ones that came from similar backgrounds where they seldom heard words of encouragement.

Mother Teresa said “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”

During times of leading or instructing others, I have had to work hard to ensure that I am presenting myself and the material I wish to teach with a non-threatened approach; in other words if you don’t understand what I’m saying then we’ll keep working to find a way to make it comprehensible. And if a mistake is made, we’ll discuss it, correct it, and then move on.

I totally believe God does call on us to treat each other in a manor we wish to be treated. I read just yesterday, “No matter how educated, talented, rich, or cool you believe you are, how you treat people tells all. Integrity is everything.” Of course there’s this “Book” I’m rather fond of that has good advice on this subject.  Romans 12:16 “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.”  And of course, Philippians 2:3-5 “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.”

As a buddy of mine would say, “Don’t knock it until you try it!” My point today is an easy one and actually one that it seems everyone talks about, but we all still miss the mark at times treating others with compassion, understanding and love. And as each of us continue our “Travels on the Rock Road,” it’s just as important what we leave behind us as what still lays ahead.

I believe Charles Spurgeon said it best like this, “A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.”

Carve on, my dear Friends and Family, Carve on!

See ya next time!!

Many of you know that my Lady and I are avid bicyclists especially when it comes to riding what’s referred to as Rails-to-Trails. This is where train tracks once ran and now have been taken up and made into walking, running and bike paths. To date we’ve biked trails in eight different states and hope to add many more to the list particularly when we reach retirement years, good Lord’s will and the creek don’t rise! It’s truly enjoyable going new places and seeing new sights from the seats of our hybrids. (Those are bikes that can tolerate a wide range of riding conditions and applications.) Quite a few of the trails have been paved, but most are packed dirt and a few even crushed rock. As mentioned it’s a great way to see the beauty of nature and visit little towns with their own unique personality, but it’s definitely not for the light-hearted biker. Riding around your neighborhood or community for exercise is one thing, but getting out in the wilderness, especially if you’re carrying supplies and extra water is strictly another category. Our youngest son who is a P.E. teacher and looks like he just walked off of Fitness Magazine can attest to that fact. After he had gone on an 18 mile biking trek with his mother and me; he called me several days later to tell how he could hardly walk for two days after. Still when you’re out there, you meet many wonderful people with varied levels of experience either taking just a portion of a trail, or going the distance like we do. When you’ve biked several hours in the woods and finally come to a small town that seems like time forgot, well it’s like an oasis in the desert. Many of these places like, Kimmel, Bloomingdale, Leroy, Elroy, and even Denver (Not the big one!) are little burgs where you may not find a lot of action on a Friday night, but usually have a general store, grocery or small restaurant that cater to bikers looking to rest a bit, get needed supplies or grab a bite to eat. It’s also a great place to meet and talk to other two-wheeled travelers; bikers are a great group of people!

It was at one of those stops I spoke with a gal, maybe in her late 30s, who was riding a light weight street bike. She had traveled the entire 34 miles of the trail and was now heading back to where she left her car. We only spoke for a moment, but she worried me a bit for she looked quite weary. A light framed speed bike with thin tires is easy to ride, but not necessarily congenial to a dirt packed trail. She knew she still had a good ways to travel, but she was undaunted about the task still ahead; she would make it she proclaimed and off she rode. Cathy and I finished our lunch of fruit and fiber bars, refilled our water bottles and followed a short time after for the remaining 17 miles of the trip. I had wished that the young lady and taken time to eat and rest but she was in too big a hurry to get back, besides she knew her body energy level best; I hoped, I guess, I prayed!

The return trip on the trail was beautiful with lush green foliage, purple wild flowers, many types of birds and nearby streams. Still it was a tough ride for on the return trip you had to deal with many inclines, not overly steep but enough to make you work harder than previously. We caught up with the gal about 10 miles in, sitting on a bench looking quite ragged. “You okay, need anything?” I asked. There were numerous places for her to get water but I keep extra fiber bars, bandages, and pain relief medicine just in case. She assured me she was fine so we rode on. It was a few miles later she passed us going all out like she was in a race. Call it the parental instinct in me, but I wanted to call out to her to slow down, it was dangerous how fast she was moving, conserve some energy because the worse was still ahead; for you see the last three miles of the trail had a 5% incline which will take a lot out of a person if they’re not careful. And she wasn’t!

Half way up this last power eating jaunt, I caught up with once again. She had her head down against her handle bars and her upper torso was rising and lowering as she struggled for air. When I reached her ,she was making an effort to get back on her bike again, but she looked over at me and said, “I’m not sure I can make it.” Now don’t ask me why I said what I did. I could have offered some food for energy, or pain meds, or even to stay put and we would come back with the truck to get her. Any of that would have been a help, but instead the words came out, “Yes you can make it, you’re almost done, don’t give up; YOU’RE DOING AWESOME!!” She struggled to get her feet back on pedals but then she was gone like a shot; and I prayed, “Lord you know me and my big mouth, please watch over that child!”

As we pedaled the final 50 yards we could see the old caboose that marks where the trailhead begins and ends; a very welcome sight at the journey’s end. Putting the bikes away, a gal came over I didn’t recognize at first because she was no longer wearing her helmet and sunglasses; it was the girl from the trail.  “I had nothing left back there and I was sure I wasn’t going to make it, but your words of encouragement kept ringing in my ears and that’s what carried me the rest of the way. Thank you so much!!”

“When you encourage others, you in the process are encouraged because you’re making a commitment and difference in that person’s life. Encouragement really does make a difference.” Zig Ziglar

Here’s another “Traveler of the Rock Road” whose path will probably never cross mine again and perhaps I could have used the opportunity to speak to this child about my Lord, after all that’s what I like doing best. But I believe that God used me for another purpose–to speak a few words of encouragement this child needed to keep going and find that hidden strength in her to finish. Isn’t that something we all can and should do?

Happy Biking and Be Careful! See Ya Next Time!!

Rusty was one of those guys from my grade school days that I’ve never forgotten; mostly from the bruises he left on me that finally healed up in the last few years! It was obvious from his looks and size that he was older than your typical six grader, it was even rumored that Rusty had been held back so many times he was only student that was allowed to go in the teacher’s lounge for coffee and a smoke break. All kidding aside though we all knew that you didn’t want to get caught alone by old Rusty because his two favorite pastimes were shaking kids down for money and hurting them, and not necessarily in that order. I don’t know how many times I left school as if I was going home to eat lunch (Yes, young folks, we used to be able to do that) and walk around for awhile because Rusty had helped himself to my lunch money. Like me he wasn’t very good in school and I remember occasions when I answered something wrong in class and everyone would laugh. But if Rusty did same you’d best keep quiet; laughing at him was like signing your own death warrant. So as many of you know that’s life when dealing with a card carrying member of “Bullies are Us!” Dedicating as many years as I did to working with kids, it was always a question to me on just why these rabble rousers enjoyed causing pain to others. Talking to professionals and reading much material on the subject, I must have come across dozens of conclusions as to why certain kids acted this way. One similar thread seemed to run through the majority of theories though, and that was insecurity.

As hard as it seemed to think of Rusty as insecure (as he was putting knots all over my head), the more it makes sense now that I look back to those days. That assumption of my “pal” Rusty came to roost in a place and setting I never thought I’d see him. Rusty was just one of the reasons my early days weren’t the happiest, but there was one place I did enjoy being. Come Sunday I would be with a youth group at a local church in my adopted hometown. There things were more laid back than school and I got along fine with most of the kids. But the bests thing; no thugs like Rusty to strike terror to the heart; at least that’s what I thought, or hoped, or prayed!

I was sitting in a row talking to a friend and didn’t pay attention to who had just sat next to me. That is until “BAM!” right in the arm. It wasn’t as devastating a blow as to the sight of who delivered; there smiling at me dressed in an ill fitted suit was Rusty. “Hey Miller, I didn’t know you went to church here, this friend of my mom’s brought me and I’ll be here every Sunday.” My mouth got the words out, “That’s cool Rusty.” But my heart was yelling “My God, why have you forsaken me!!” I considered my options, like running out to the building screaming at the top of my lungs. No, I feared he would just catch me and if I stayed put, at least there would be witnesses to his deeds. Then the thought occurred, lure him upstairs, hit him in the head with a chair and throw his carcass out the window! Nope, that wouldn’t work either; he was too big for me to pick up. The only option left was to find a way to make the best of a bad situation. Being new there were a lot of things Rusty didn’t know, so I told him a lot about the youth group, what we were studying, where to find answers in our workbooks and so forth. Things actually went pretty well until I realized something one day; I was the only person talking to Rusty, no one else would bother to even say hi. He came several Sundays in row, but then quit. I asked him at school why he wasn’t coming anymore. “What for, those snobs don’t want me there.” I tried to convince him that wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t hear it so I thought I’ll just say something to some of the guys at church and prove him wrong. I’m not sue I can describe the feeling I had when I found he wasn’t wrong. Several made it clear they were glad he quit coming, one even told me, “We don’t need ones like him around here.” We don’t need ones like him around here; those words rang in my ears for some time. Well if the likes of Rusty weren’t welcome, then who was? Didn’t Jesus say something to the effect that He came to earth for the sick and not the healthy, in other words the ones who need Him most (Mark 2:17), like Rusty!

The grand old preacher Billy Graham answers it this way; “We are the Bibles the world is reading; We are the creeds the world is needing; We are the sermons the world is heeding.” And “God has given us two hands – one to receive with and the other to give with. We are not cisterns made for hoarding; we are channels made for sharing.”

Now I’m not trying to throw off on my old Sunday School group because they didn’t like Rusty, remember I already admitted I didn’t want him there when he first showed. But I’m left to wonder how many chances do we who call ourselves Believers, miss out on telling and showing others about the One we call Lord because of a perception or mind-set. Possibly what’s missed is the fact that none of us are really any better than Rusty in God’s eyes; “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

I can’t say my little contribution to Rusty when he came to church did anything or not, but I can tell you this; he never laid a hand on me again after that. Just a thought. After grade school Rusty and I never really saw each other again, but I’ve thought about him often; what happened to him, and did he ever seek Christ again. Only God knows.

But over the course of “Traveling the Rock Road,” I’ve had numerous Rustys cross my path. The easy thing would be to keep walking and ignore them in hopes they’d go away. But there’s this nagging voice in the back of my mind that calls out, “You know he was good enough for Jesus to shed His blood on the cross, just like he did for you. If he’s good enough for Jesus, isn’t he good enough for a little of your time?”

Just a thought Friends and Family,

See Ya Next Time!!

Clyde Lenhart or Clyde-E as we referred to him was one of five children in a well-known family back in Fremont, Ohio. They owned a thriving construction company prominent in the region. Clyde’s older brother was a popular musician in the area and had quite a following. The whole family was well-liked and outgoing. Clyde, on the other hand, had a severe hearing problem which left him at a definite disadvantage so he generally remained quiet and was even seen as somewhat backwards. His family was not always good for his morale telling him often he would never amount to anything. But Clyde E. was far from dumb and God had special plans for this “Traveler of the Rock Road.

Clyde dropped out of school in his teens and joined the Navy to do his part in the war effort going on in Europe and the Pacific. He was assigned to an aircraft carrier that was preparing for a great battle. But before that occurred he took violently ill and had to be taken off the ship and left at a hospital in Hawaii. But as I said God had a purpose for Clyde’s life and it wasn’t a great sea battle. The ship sailed on and was involved in one of the biggest sea battles of WW2, the Battle of Guam where half the men on his ship would lose their lives.

Returning from the war, Clyde would meet and fall in love with Bette Smith; they would marry in July of 1947 and stay together until the Lord called them home. Both dearly wanted a family, but due to an earlier injury in her life, sadly child bearing would become physically impossible for Bette. Making the decision to try and adopt, they obtained information on a little girl up for adoption in a nearby town, and as you’ve probably figured out by now Clyde E. became my father, the greatest dad a little girl could be blessed with.

As I mentioned, and contrary to his family’s opinion, Dad was gifted with many skills too numerous to mention. He was a carpenter, mechanic, plumber, electrician, even a natural mathematician (Pretty awesome fact about a man that never finished high school and whose family told him he was dumb!– a true jack of all trades who could literally make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, to coin an old phrase. I remember getting a stroller for Christmas one year that Dad had picked up at the dump. He straightened the frame, painted it and installed new wheels while mom sewed a new seat and canopy. He remodeled all of our home at various times, built a garage, bought old cars and restored them on the outside as well as repairing engine problems. Once the cars were repaired and painted, Dad would set them out in front of the house to sell. He had such a steady hand at painting that he actually painted the cars with a hand brush and you would have to look very closely to see even the hint of a brush stoke. Dad was so honest; he always told everything that had been wrong with the cars and what he had done to repair them. It sure didn’t hinder sales. He never failed to get rid of them. I remember him tearing out the seats of an old school bus and transforming it into a camper, which we drove all the way to New York on vacation.

As I said at the beginning, Dad was a quiet man with a meek sprit. Part of that, if you knew my folks, was probably because mom was quite domineering making it hard to get a word in edgewise and so I think my Dad pretty much gave up trying. In retrospect, I wish that I had tried to draw him out for in many ways I did not know him. John was very fortunate because while they would hang out in the garage together away from the women-folk, he and Dad would actually have opportunity to talk.

Dad was always the one who would play games with me, take me fishing, swimming, roller skating and drive me places I needed to go before I could drive. I remember one time we went out on our boat to fish on Lake Erie. Dad knew just where he wanted to go and when we got there, he dropped anchor, got our poles out and barely got started fishing when looking a little green around the gills, I said, “Dad, I don’t feel so good.” Without any anger or frustration, he pulled up anchor and set out for home.

Dad was never the disciplinarian of the family. I think he was he was afraid I wouldn’t like him if he punished me, so mom took on that responsibility. Nonetheless, I learned so many great things from my Dad.  He had a great work ethic—he never missed work unless he was on death’s door. He was a man of great integrity, honesty and kindness. No matter that his family had treated him poorly; he didn’t hate them or treat them badly when they called him to ask for favors. He just went and helped them without asking anything in return. What a godly example he was to me.

Even though Dad was humble in his ways and manners it certainly was no deterrent for him being the spiritual leader of our little family. He loved his Lord deeply and his easy ways and personally spoke volumes to me on what the Christian life and following Jesus was all about.

Galatians 5:22-23 – “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”  Or as another individual put it; “Meekness is not weakness, just strength under control”

Not long after Dad retired, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He went through chemotherapy and radiation treatments and lived another year. That year was not good physically speaking, but still in the fashion of Clyde E. Lenhart you heard little complaining. God was gracious and we were home the weekend Dad died. I remember the last time I saw him from the hallway outside his bedroom. He was now too weak to talk but he gave me his best smile, his way of saying, “Never forget how much you mean to me, and how much I love you.” The next morning it was John who found that Dad, in his same quiet fashion had slipped away to Heaven. Dad is waiting for us in Heaven now. I’m so anxious to see both he and my mom who has now gone on also.

In closing I’d like to share with you a poem I wrote for Dad after he went Home to be with Jesus.

When I used to think of heaven

And its streets of shining gold,

I was anxious to go thru its gates

and meet the saints of old.

To walk and talk with Jesus

will be joy beyond compare.

To be in His presence always

of His goodness ever share.

But now the Gates of Glory

an added treasure hold.

For my Father has gone there to live

His face I’ll soon behold.

Blessings to you and your loved ones,

Cathy

This past Mother’s Day was the typical happy occasion in the Miller home as we took a moment to give honor to my Lady who is so richly deserving and also to celebrate the other two mothers in our family, our daughter, Jamie and daughter-in-law, Traci. The time would not be complete if we didn’t take a moment to remember mine and Cathy’s mothers who are now with Jesus. But this year’s occasion was met with a mixture of sadness and joy at the sudden loss of Cathy’s other mother, the one we lovingly referred to as Mom Phyl.

It may sound a little confusing for some of you, but if you have been regular readers of “Traveling the Rock Road,” you learned from earlier writings that my Lady was adopted at age 3 from an orphanage in Ohio by Clyde and Bette Lenhart. Phyllis (Mom Phyl) gave birth to Cathy at a young age and made a wise decision to give her up for adoption. At the age of 33, Cathy was reunited with Phyl and a strong friendship grew between them. As the two of them became close and talked about their lives, a story began to emerge, one of a woman who seemed to face adversity throughout much of her life, and yet may be one of the strongest and courageous people I’ve ever known.

Being a teenager and pregnant back in the 50s could be hard enough, but when you have authorities over you calling all the shots, removing you from a harmful home environment and sending you to a place distant and alone away from everything and everyone you’ve ever known, well I imagine it had to be pretty scary. Phyl’s one shining moment of joy in this strange place came at the birth of her beautiful little girl, only to have that short lived when the baby was taken from her days later and not to see her again for 33 years.

It was a few years later Phyl would fall in love and marry the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with, only to see that end within eight years, but not before he gave her something she cherished more than life itself, two daughters and a son. Unlike losing her first daughter, no one was going to wrestle these three from her grip, and she set out to pour everything she had, mind, body and soul into the lives of these precious gifts of God she was given.

As any single parent will tell you, it’s not an easy task, or for the weak-hearted to be both mom and dad in the family, but Phyl was determined to make it work. And to make it work, they were going to have become more than a family, they would have to become a team, each knowing their role and the expectations placed upon them. Regimented, structured, and packed with discipline, Phyl led her little family, often with a very loud voice that commanded respect and obedience. Her oldest daughter was delegated to 2^nd in command at a young age helping with the two younger siblings and anything else that needed to be done to secure the wellbeing of them all. The two younger kids’ function might appear easier, but it really wasn’t. The golden rule rules according Mom Phyl, “Do good in school, keep out of trouble, listen to what I tell you, learn when I take you to church, and never disrespect me; do these things and there’s a good possibility you might live long enough to produce future generations!!” I imagine to an outsider Phyl’s ways and manner might have seemed harsh, perhaps in this day and age they might have seemed criminal. But this dear lady didn’t grow up in a soft atmosphere; the world she came to know was hard and at times unkind, but she learned to use it to her and her children’s benefit.

I mentioned Lady Phyl could be loud; well I have theory on that. Let’s say you see someone who has inadvertently wandered into the path of an oncoming semi, not realizing they’re about to be hit. Are you in a quiet and gentle tone going to say “Uh, excuse me, but if you don’t move this instant you’re going to be an added statistic in the field of road kill.” NO! You’re going to scream at the top of your lungs, “Look, get out of the way, move now!!” Phyl knew what would bring harm, be it physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually, to the ones she loved most; and a quiet demeanor would not get the point across. “Listen to me, pay attention, because I’ve been there and I don’t want you anywhere near what I’ve been through!” I call it Mom Phyl’s way of saying, “I love you.” She also taught them that they may not have a lot, but if they learn to appreciate what they do have and what God has put around them, they were rich.

The years passed and in certain ways life didn’t get easier for Phyl, she now struggled with physical limitations causing her to take an earlier retirement than she had planned. I guess it could be said that she had more than her share of adversity when you look at her past. But like so many “Travelers of the Rock Road,” it’s not the past that defines a person, but the present and the future. In Mom Phyl’s case her rough past prepared her to be the best mom she could to three kids who repaid her sometimes “rough” approach by growing and honoring her with productive lives, loving grandchildren and marriages that have been long lasting and loving. If you place me and Cathy into the equation, Mom Phyl’s children combined have over a hundred years of marriage! That’s a pretty awesome stat in this day and age huh?!! If that’s not a candidate for “Super Mothers of America,” I don’t know who would be. Phyl was finally blessed with a man of honor in her life who stood by her side and loved her the way she needed– awesome!!

Two things stick out to me on the day we gathered with the family to spread her ashes at her favorite park for bird watching; first her son said to those gathered, “You know as long as we have, Faith, Family, and Friends, we are truly rich.” And my thoughts, “Hey Phyl, they got it, you got through to them, without spilling blood! Way to go Sweetheart!!”

The second moment that stays with me was later that day when two of her grown grandchildren spoke at her memorial, telling through tearing eyes how she taught them to love the simple things in life, and especially God. “Lady Phyl, your incredible legacy lives on in new generations, Dear One.”

“The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the love of a Mother” St. Therese of Lisieux.

The world will not see or know Mom Phyl as one of the great women of history. But for the ones of us who did know her, whose lives she touched, her memory and lessons will be continued on to future generations as we recount the wonderful woman of faith and family that she was.

Scripture speaks of Phyl like this, “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” Proverbs 31:25-30

We seldom get back to Ohio, but I think we may make a trip on occasion to the park where Phyl loved to watch the birds and remember a wonderful and awesome, Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother and Wife who gave so much of herself for the good and pleasure of others.

When I get to Heaven someday, I picture me walking around checking things out. I also picture hearing a loud bellowing voice calling out to me, “HEY JOHN, OVER HERE!” I won’t even have to turn around to know who it is. “Hey Phyl, so glad we’re together again!”

See you next time!!