Traveling the Rock Road

This last weekend a very special individual in my life reached a milestone, my Uncle Carl, one of my greatest heroes celebrated his 90^th birthday surrounded by many of his family. It’s hard for me to think of this man being the age that he is, but as great as he’s kept himself in shape, I’m also not surprised. Here is my mother’s oldest brother, 30 years my senior, that had we raced swimming and running back when he was 50 and I was 20, well most likely I would have been schooled big time.

Carl spent a good portion of his life overseas starting with being a Marine during WW2 and then working government jobs the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, Okinawa and even Viet Nam. When I was a boy and mom would tell me Carl was stateside and would be visiting us it was like the President himself was coming; I was excited, but I know everyone else was too.

In my mother’s latter years she lived with Cathy and me. Knowing things in her life were changing rapidly, she requested that we go out to Las Vegas to visit her big brother, one more time. The trip was an enjoyable one seeing Carl and his wife Sue for the first time in many years, enjoying their company, especially for mom. When time allowed Carl spent a lot time talking, catching up on where life had led us. He had one room of his house completely filled with exercise equipment that even though he was in his 70s he still used actively. “Carl, do you still power walk like you used to?” “No, I had to give that up,” he answered. “The neighborhood started changing a few years back, got a little rougher. A bunch of kids on the other side of the block started pelting me with eggs so I stopped.” Now I was angry, “Carl, that’s not right, show me where these kids live and I’ll get it straightened out with their parents, one way or another!” With a soft smile Carl looked at me and said, “Johnny, I’m fine, it no big deal.” No big deal?!! Sure seemed like it to me, but okay if that’s the way he saw it.

The next evening Carl took Cathy and me down to Fremont Street where the original Strip was located; only now it was covered in a canopy where this awe inspiring laser projected show was shown accompanied by beautiful patriotic surround sound music. The whole production was captivating, but when it was over we couldn’t locate Uncle Carl. When we did find him, there was a small group of people having their picture taken with him and then each shaking his hand before walking away. When we got to him he was smiling and shaking his head, “That happens all the time, I gotta get rid of this hat.” The hat he referred to was the one he was wearing that had just a few words written there, “Iwo Jima Survivor”

The Battle of Iwo Jima was the bloodiest conflict in the South Pacific during WW2, during the 5 week conquest to capture the island from the Japanese, American troops lost nearly 7,000 men with another 19,000 wounded. This single battle produced more Congressional Medal of Honor winners than any other conflict in our nation’s history. “Carl, that hat signifies you as someone who went through and survived more hell than the majority of us will ever know; what you did for our county does mark you as someone special and a hero to many.” We started to walk off but then he turned, looked me in the eyes and said those same words I heard from him about another conflict, “Johnny, it’s no big deal.”

Over the years since that moment I have thought about his words often, how he described two clashes in his life, one major and one minor in the great scheme of things. And for both circumstances he summed them up with the exact same words, and attitude, “It’s no big deal.”

C.S. Lewis said “What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.” I have known few men like my Uncle Carl, who after going through great tribulation have survived mentally as well as physically because they have adopted this position; it’s behind you now, keep going, and don’t look back. He’s never realized the great lesson I learned from his words “It’s no big deal.” He also taught me something about being a Christian from those words also. “God knows our situation; He will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. What matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them,” once again C.S. Lewis.

Carl’s attitude made me realize that’s how my Lord wants me to live. Don’t get weighed down by my battles and scars that come from them; continue on, one step at a time, trusting in His love and will for me. (Romans 5:1-5, take the minute it takes to read these words, they’re worth it, to you.)

This day I honor my Beloved Uncle Carl along with all the military men and women who have “Traveled the Rock Road,” for me and for you; who may see what they did, what they survived as no big deal; but the rest of us know different, right?

Here’s an excerpt from the Marine’s Prayer; “If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again.  Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer.”

Happy Birthday Uncle Carl,

See you all next week!!

When we define the word “understanding” as an adjective, we get the definition “sympathetically aware of other people’s feelings; tolerant and forgiving.”

There are three moments in my life I like to concentrate on tonight that if understanding had been defined like this the outcomes would have perhaps been different.

The first incident occurred when I was about 11 years old; my Great Aunt Pearl worked the afternoon shift at a factory there in our hometown of Fremont. Every Friday she would leave early to do shopping at the grocery store before her work day began. In the summer it would be my job to follow her one hour later and retrieve the groceries that would be in our two wheel cart inside the door of the store. I would then wheel the cart home and unload the food for the week. I came to hate this weekly chore, not because of the work involved, but because of two older boys that enjoyed giving me a hard time whenever they saw me. They got their jollies calling me names and making insulting remarks about having the grocery cart; one of their favorite things to aggravate me was run up and grab something out of the cart and give it a toss so I would have to chase it down. I wanted to yell at these two “tough guys” and say, “This is the only way we have to get food to our house, okay?!!” But something told me they just wouldn’t understand.

Then came the time I looked forward to what every other teenager who turned 16 did, taking driver’s education so I could get my license. As joyous of an event I had hoped it would be, the contrary proved to be the rule. Without a doubt I was the worse driver in my class. If there was a mistake to make I did it, and as the class wore on I became a nervous wreck every time it was my turn to drive. The instructor wasn’t a whole lot of help; seeing my ability or lack of, he had little patience with me. On more than one occasion my turn behind the wheel would be cut short quite abruptly with the teacher yelling for the next student to switch places with me. When the end of summer semester came, he informed me I had done well enough to pass but he wished he didn’t have to because he was sure I would be something dangerous someday; his final words were a stern warning to grow up and get serious about the responsibility that driving was. Just a few short weeks later I was involved in a fender bender where I backed into another car, this got my name in the paper and license suspended for a week (Only suspension I’ve ever had BTW). A teacher that attended the same church as me told me my former instructor reveled in the fact that he was “right” about me and proceeded to tell his current D.Ed. classes and others to follow how right he was about me. I wanted to go to him and say, “Eo you know the very first car in my life that I sat behind the wheel was in your class?” No one drove in my family (also the reason we hauled our groceries via shopping cart), so I had no prior experience and little help after I began. I wanted to tell him that, but something said he just wouldn’t understand.

Without a doubt the time I look back on and see it as the “dark years” was when my Great Uncle Price (shown in the picture) was still alive and I suffered almost daily from his hands physical or mental abuse; I can clearly say he is the only person I ever truly hated. Because of him I suffered countless emotional problems for years, some to this day I struggle with on occasion. In Price’s last year he was very sick and had to stay in bed in his room, a place I entered only once during that time. When he passed away there was no sadness in me, still only anger and hate for what he did to me. His wife, my Great Aunt Pearl knew how I felt and once said to me, “If you knew how Price was raised, you’d understand better why he was the way he was.” But the truth of the matter was that I felt I couldn’t understand and frankly I didn’t want to understand. I only wanted to be happy in the fact that he was gone and could no longer hurt me; if only it was that easy. In a previous story I explained that no matter how long my Uncle Price was gone; he continued to hurt me because I would relive those days over and over. It wasn’t until I learned to forgive, truly forgive him for what he had done that I finally experienced peace in my life. What was an element to finally forgiving and laying all that garbage to the side? W ell as Pearl tried to tell me so many years prior, it was understanding the man more than I already did. When I pursued this hidden knowledge, I learned that Price was the oldest child from a very large family. Because of his position as the oldest he was expected to produce and work like a man from a young age. Pearl told me that he once told her he never once can remember hearing either of his parents telling him they loved him or even give a hug of affection. It seems he was raised up hard and cold and stayed that way all of his life. Suddenly a light came on in me; now it made sense like it never did before. It didn’t excuse him for what he did, but at least now I could see how this man got to be the way he was. I understood and when I finally understood, then I was able to forgive.

It’s easy to have a misconception about someone or something because of a lack of understanding. Another way of putting it is judging and I follow the teaching of a certain Book of how God views that. In one spot He tells us about looking at the speck in one person’s eye when we can’t see the log in our own; another place He says “judge not——,” (I’ll let you look up the rest of it.)

During the moments in life when I’ve taken the time to know and understand an individual and his or her ways, I’ve had a much better relationship with them. It doesn’t guarantee every situation will be successful; some damage runs deep and can almost seem irreversible. But if you gain nothing else, I’d encourage you to use it as a tool for your own life on how to act and interact with others. I will boldly state that if it wasn’t for learning understanding and forgiveness that came to me when I became a Christian, I probably wouldn’t be much better than my dear uncle.

“To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” C.S. Lewis

As each of us “Travel the Rock Road” the question should not be, ‘Can we avoid people with negative input into our lives,’ but rather what do we do to combat that negativity while learning how to care for the individual? For me the answer is two-fold; understand them and then forgive them. Works for me, Understand?!!

Don’t know if I’ll be here next week, going on a short excursion with my Lady and three little people the first of the week and then meeting up with the rest of the family for camping the last few days.

Until we come together again, never forget how special you are, to me, but especially to God.

Blessings to you and your loved ones!!!

I have to confess I am extremely fond of social networks; I belong to several with Facebook being the favorite. I have connected with so many people from both past and present relations that have brought me great pleasure. Many are folks that were close to me at some point in life, others are ones that I never knew well but our paths crossed somewhere in life, and still others I may have never met before but because of a common friendships or interests we end up connecting in the world I have come to call “Planet FB.” One of the largest groups I’ve connected with has been people from my graduating class, Fremont Ross, Class of 1973. That’s been a fun crowd to associate with, something I did very little of back when we were all in school. Because of the lifestyle I adopted by my junior year the people in my life were older and I spent little time with kids my own age. Planet FB has given me a chance to recapture a little bit of my youth once again and get to know some awesome people like I never did before.

One of those is the gal you see in the picture, her name is Brenda and unless my memory is wrong we never spoke more than a few words in all our school years. But when I received her friend request I immediately accepted, for even though we had so little interaction I remembered her as a very sweet girl who in one part could be quite unassuming, while another part allowed to be friendly to all. The little exchange we had came through a mutual friend one afternoon for just a few moments, but in those moments I came away with the impression that this was someone special. What was it that made her appear that way to me so quickly? I didn’t know then but the answer came 40 years later.

After getting reacquainted with so many classmates, Cathy and I made a point of traveling back to our home area of Northwest Ohio for class reunions. We have enjoyed ourselves so much interacting with this extraordinary grouping of friends and old acquaintances. I say extraordinary because after all these years still a large gathering will come together for a night of fun, remembering and sharing. The last reunion was no exception, people gathered and had a wonderful time together; I was particularly overjoyed to see a couple of old friends that I had not spoken to since those school days. But there was one person I really looked forward to seeing with hope that she could make it there. It didn’t take long to recognize her for she stood out in radiant beauty, greeting each person she saw with one of the most beautiful smiles I had ever seen, and not only that but a hug and cheerful words for each individual. There she was, the belle of the ball, there was Brenda. We only got to spend a few short moments together because everyone wanted their chance to greet, and even more, be blessed by this beautiful lady. I took every opportunity I could to just watch her, to observe who this person that interacted with me more via a keyboard than we ever did orally, and what I saw was awesome. There was joy, overwhelming joy with each person she talked to, yes smiles, hugs and laughter, but still something more. What I saw was with each person she came in contact with she gave them a present, something that maybe others would take for granted, but not the ones that knew her and joyfully accepted that gift, took it away and still hold it precious to this day, you see on that day Brenda gave the best present she had to offer, she gave of herself.

Each word she spoke to individuals had being and meaning meant for them alone, and even though each was different it was still the same present to all in its fullness, that is you are so special to me and I am so glad we’re here together. Yes the beauty that poured forth from Brenda was beyond radiant that day, even to the point of partially covering what else was there, a gifted lady with an almost fragile body who wore a hat on her head to cover her lack of hair; you see Brenda was battling cancer. Here she was, in the midst of chemo and radiation treatments that had left her weak and frail, spreading more joy, encouragement and sunshine to others than any ten of us combined could have mustered; on this special day she was the most beautiful and strongest person I knew, she had become one of my heroes.

As the months have passed since that day we corresponded several time, me letting her know that I was always praying for her, Brenda always appreciative of that fact while at the same time posting many things related to where she grew her strength and hope. For as happy and filled with joy I found her to be, I soon learned that her greatest joy was in her love for her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Here was one that didn’t practice a religion, didn’t turn to God in her hours of need, it was always there, a true and living faith in the One she saw as the Giver of life. In that knowledge I see where she realized that when this life concludes, it’s really not over, it’s the start of a new beginning, far precious, more wonderful than she could imagine. That knowledge not only brought her joy, but sharing that with others as she did so often on her Facebook wall. “Hey everyone, I’ve found something special and it is so awesome and I care for you so much I want each of you to join in with me in this joy, in this Gift!” This is how I came to know Brenda, from an unassuming little girl in school, to a shining example of faith, hope, and love. Thank You, Sweet Brenda.

Last week we received word that this Hero of mine, this fellow “Traveler of the Rock Road,” had gone home, her eternal home. As I pondered the news, missing my friend and feeling for her loved ones who will miss her so dearly I also drew a mental picture that brought a smile to my face of a beautiful girl, radiant with joy and a million dollar smile happier beyond imagination, which in turn makes me think of one of my favorite songs, “I Can Only Imagine.” I’d like to close now with a few lines of that song, but with a few different words as my final tribute to a Friend, an Encourager, A Sister in Christ–Brenda.

I can only imagine

What it will be like

When I walk

By your side

I can only imagine

What her eyes will see

When your face

Is before her

I can only imagine.

[Chorus:]

Surrounded by Your glory, what will her heart feel

I bet she will dance for you Jesus or perhaps in awe of you be still

Will she stand in your presence or to her knees will she fall

I’m guessing she’ll sing hallelujah, or maybe just won’t be able speak at all

I can only imagine, OH, I CAN ONLY IMAGINE!

Thanks for reading.

Back when our kids were young, we used to take family trips down to where I was born in Southern West Virginia.  It a region that none of us ever tire of visiting or witnessing its beauty.  Several landmarks became regular stops for the Miller Family back then, from the top of East River Mountain near Bluefield to view the beautiful scenery from it lofty altitude,  to a trip on the Rock Road (where I took the name for my blog) to visit old towns and show the kids where family once lived and memories were made. But no trip would be complete without stopping at Pinnacle Rock State Park between Bramwell and Bluewell, WVa.  On one side is somewhat of a carved out stairway which allows easy access as you ascend to the top of this beautiful and natural formation.  These days they’ve built an observation deck that is enclosed in and limits your roaming at the top.  But when the kids were young it was wide open allowing many angles and views of the gorgeous region surrounding the location. The biggest problem would be trying to harness a  6, 8, and 10 year old who wanted to run full bore jumping from rock to rock right along the edge giving mom and dad moments of heart spasms!  Looking past that slight worry, the opportunity to see God’s beautiful earth from this vantage point was well worth the time and energy spent.

After one of our hikes up the rock and then back down Cathy took the kids to the nearby restrooms while I waited at the car; and that’s where I met him, the next individual God placed in my path for a reason.  He looked like he just walked off the cover “Good Ole Boys Are Us,” about 5’ 10” and overweight, high work boots, blue jean overalls, gray t-shirt, an Atlanta Braves baseball cap and a dark jacket with a “Bass Pro” insignia on it.  He mostly stared down at the ground, occasionally looking up at the road that ran in front of the park with an expression across his face as if he was studying something, then eyes back to the ground again.  He looked over my way and I nodded a hello and then he turned to look at the rock. “Beautiful view from up there,” I said, but he just kept staring up.  Finally, “I used to bring my little girl here when her mother and I were still married, that was a long time ago but I still remember how much fun we had.”  He then walked over me and began his story.  “After her mama and I spilt up, I wasn’t around a lot so I missed a lot of her growing up.  Sometimes it would be a couple of months before we got back together and then it might be for only an afternoon.” He then looked me in the face and said; “I guess I thought I was too busy at times,” then the eyes were back to the ground again.  I knew this was going somewhere so when Cathy returned with the kids I sent them to the car while my new friend continued on.  “One day I realized she was growing up fast and if I wanted to see her any I better get busy.  So I started showing up more often, but she was gone often with friends or something at school.  One day she called and said she really needed a car, but mom couldn’t afford to get her one.  I told her I’d buy a car if she promised to come see me occasionally.  Well I got the car and it wasn’t long before she came driving up to visit; it was one of the best times we had together in years,” a long pause, “and that was the last time I ever saw her alive.  Two days later she pulled into the path of a truck and died instantly.”  Oh man, God of all situations you could put me in why in the world would you choose me for this one?!!!  I didn’t know what to say, what could I say, “Go and be well friend, God knows your pain and He is with you.” Just didn’t feel that would fit the moment so neither of us said anything for a while.  He began again, “I’m sorry mister, I don’t make a habit of throwing my troubles on someone else; in fact you’re the first person I’ve even talked to about any of this.  I was just passing by remembering my little girl and felt the need to pull in and here you were willing to listen, thank you for that.”  Now I got it, I understood why we were brought together at this place, at this time.

Hemingway once said “When people talk, listen completely.  Most people never listen.”  Someone else I have the greatest respect for said it like this, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.”  This brother didn’t need advice, reassurance that all would be well, that the hurt would soon stop; he only needed an ear, someone willing to just let him talk it out.  At times that’s the best help you can give another. It’s called “first seed.”  After a few more minutes, my new friend finished his story and he allowed me to pray over him and we parted ways, once again another fellow “Traveler on the Rock Road.”

I hold to the position that if you say you’re a Christian you have to be ready at any moment to be used by God in what ever way He calls on you, and often that’s first seed.  In other words, God has put you in the path of perhaps a hurting person that He’s not calling on you to fix their problem, spend long moments telling them how God cares or even give answers to the problem.  Often it’s just like me and my friend at Pinnacle Rock; he needed an ear and I was there.  Because of our circumstances, the only other thing I could do was offer a prayer for this brother, and never, never discount that.  I never saw the man again, but I wouldn’t be surprised if God sent another, more equipped, or better circumstances to give even more of a hand, more hope, then possibly another.  I have learned that’s how our Lord works to get grace, mercy, and love to a hurting world.

“Hardship often prepares an ordinary person for an extraordinary destiny.” C.S. Lewis

Are you ready when opportunity comes, especially when it’s to others who need you?  For the Believer, it’s not a choice but a sacred duty we should be joyous in doing; for when we do, we do it in the service of the King of Hope and Glory.  We March On!!
See Ya Next Monday!

My Lady Cathy is a unique and talented individual in many aspects of life. Besides being incredibly beautiful (and no prejudice in that remark what so ever!) she has been a wonderful wife, mother and now grandmother. Moving beyond that Cathy is very intelligent, out of a class of 500 in school she graduated 4^th. She is highly skilled in economics, which was a blessing during some hard times in the Miller household. Also my Lady is a skilled mathematician, bookkeeper and accountant. She plays the piano wonderfully, but her real musical gift is her voice which many believe (yours truly included) could have carried her into a career in music. (That wasn’t her interest which today I’m very thankful for!) One of her greatest attributes is anyone who meets Cathy likes her the minute they come into contact; she has a way of making folks feel comfortable and happy to be around her. All that definitely makes her a special gal, but there’s something else that makes her quite unique, she was blessed with two moms who she’s had wonderful relationships with both. Okay, let’s get to the story line.

Cathy was born in Columbus but shortly after birth was moved to Tiffin Ohio, not to live in normal home setting like most of us, but into an orphanage where she spent her first 3½ years of life. It wasn’t until that latter point that she was adopted and became the daughter of Clyde and Bette Lenhart. This truly could be called a match made in Heaven. The Lenharts had long tried to adopt, not being able to have any of their own it was their only hope of having children. The process had been long, years waiting and hoping to hear there was a child for them somewhere. It wasn’t until out of the blue they got a call from this orphanage in Tiffin saying they had a child but they would have to come right then. They didn’t have to tell them twice, probably made the 26 mile drive faster than they ever had in the past! There’s actually another story that could be told right here, but I’ll just stick to the important, a little girl went home that evening to become Cathy Lou Lenhart, loving daughter of Clyde and Bette! Bette was able to be a stay at home mom so she and Cathy grew close quickly and as the relationship grew Bette taught Cathy many things such as sewing and clothes making. Then Lenharts started little Cathy going to church and Sunday school right away and it wasn’t long before she asked Jesus into her heart, something she has cherished and held on to these many years later. One thing that Clyde and Bette did and had a strong conviction about was they let Cathy know she had been adopted and that it made her special. Bette made this point not only in actions as a good mother does, but with a poem she gave Cathy; “Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but still miraculously my own. Never forget for a single minute, you didn’t grow under my heart, but in it!”  Cathy did grow up knowing she was special, but not just because she was adopted, but knowing she had a dad and mom who loved her more than words could begin to describe, she found great joy in God for giving her such loving parents.

But what about the other one, the other mom? What’s that story, who was she, where is she today, does she ever think of Cathy? These are questions I imagine most adopted children have about a past and person they know nothing about, but still so much apart of them. Cathy did have these questions, but they weren’t important enough to dwell on in her younger years, after all, she was very happy where she was and who she belonged to.

But still the questions would linger even if they were ever so slightly in her mind. When we married we discussed this topic on numerous occasions and I would ask if she wanted me to help her mind her hidden past. The answer was always the same, “No, but if I change my mind I’ll let you know.” That time came when Cathy was 33 and decided the time was right. “I don’t expect to really find out anything but if you can, I think I’m ready.”

Don’t ask because it’s a whole extra story to go into on how two weeks after that conversation my friend and I acquired all the information on the birth mother of Mary Catherine, Cathy’s first given name. I’m just going to call it the leading of the Lord, with a little fast talk at a county courthouse vault. I’ll write about that sometime, just got to make sure the statute of limitations has run out! (Just kidding, kinda) So what was the story with the mystery mother, did she not want her child or what? Well to cut straight to the chase it’s one of the greatest stories of love I’ve ever seen and heard. You see this mother looked upon her infant daughter with tears of happiness for just how beautiful she was. And what were her thoughts? Same as any mother, she wanted her child to have the best life growing up she could receive. Unfortunately, she also knew for that to happen it would have to be with someone else, for you see this mother, was no more than a child herself, fourteen years old. In 1953 it was hard enough for a single adult mother to fend for her family alone, let alone a child mother. So for a few short days she held and caressed her baby out of love for her; then she let her go, out of even deeper love. I read this quote from a fellow writer, “Mothers have a special way of saying, ‘I love you’, A love that God has given them, A love that will hold true. For Mothers sacrifice so much, Providing for the home, Creating there an atmosphere That reflects God’s love alone.” As I pondered these words I realized something, this describes both of Cathy’s moms. The mother who gave her life loved her so much that she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness by giving up Cathy so that she might have a better home; that came in the form of Bette who loved her daughter so much she dedicated her to the Lord. If that’s not a double barrel dose of Motherly Love, I don’t know what is. Awesome!!

While looking at 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 “Love is patient; love is kind. Love is not jealous; is not proud; is not conceited; does not act foolishly; is not selfish; is not easily provoked to anger; keeps no record of wrongs; takes no pleasure in unrighteousness, but rejoices in the truth; love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things,” another writer concluded, “When it comes to the Bible’s most well-known passage on love, mothers are beautiful examples of the high calling of love that is described.” When looking at these two incredible self-sacrificing Ladies in my Lady’s life I can do nothing but agree and thank God they were there for her. Two more “Travelers of the Rock Road,” one has ended her earthly walk and has gone Home while the other continues on having confidence that one day she too will be Home. To look at what they contributed to the world would be minimal compared to others of great reputation, but to look at what the gave in love and sacrifice to one person, one daughter they shared, so that her road would be easier; I guess I’ll just end with a little levity by saying when it comes to heroism, Top That, John Wayne!!

See ya next week!

Occasionally I look back to the early years of Cathy and I starting our lives together as one and momentarily relive those days once more. One side of me will shout out, “Boys, I’m glad that’s over; I wouldn’t want to relive a minute of that ever again!” But then there’s a quieter side that gently says, “But weren’t those some of the best years you ever experienced relying fully on God to help you take the next step?” And I always have to say to the second voice, “You’re right, no argument.”

The year was 1975, we had moved to Indiana the year prior for me to attend college. I was working a minimum wage ($2.10 per hour) part-time job and Cathy worked full time at a bank making around $2.50. We lived in a sunroom/garage that had been remodeled and converted into a one bedroom apartment. These days we have what we call “Date Nite” every Friday and go out to eat somewhere; back then that occasion would have been celebrated with a couple of cans of soda and a bag of potato chips to split as we drove around. It was rough but it wasn’t terrible, we met our bills and made the best of this life we chose. One of the highlights came when we would get a call from back home from a loved one who was checking up on us. One day I got call from my beloved Great-Aunt Peal down in Southern West Virginia. “Johnny, would you and Cathy come down here for Thanksgiving this year, it’s been too long since I’ve see you two.” “We’d love to Pearl, but we just don’t have the extra to make a long trip like that.” There was a pause and then she said, “Now you know if you can get here, I’ll take care of getting you back, and maybe a little extra!” Say no more and take me home Country Roads! The day we left out, we filled up our little VW (at .57 cents a gallon it wasn’t the strain it would be today) and had just under 50 bucks to make the journey. This was going to be great, a small vacation and it would hardly cost us a thing, what could possible go wrong? How bout a broken down car in the middle of nowhere!

The hour was a little past midnight into early Thanksgiving morn when while driving along Route 52 near the Ohio River the car made a funny sound and then went dead. There we were on a deserted road 200 hundred miles from home and over that distance left to reach Pearl’s house, we were stuck and no one in sight. I got of the car, cold wind whistling around me and simply said, “God, if ever there was a time we needed you, it’s right now.” Down the road I could see headlights approaching and as he drew near he slowed, and turned on his flashers, it was the Ohio State Patrol. I told the officer what happened and he immediately went to my engine compartment and began working. He tried for over 30 minutes, but finally gave up and took us to the nearest town, Southpoint, Ohio and let us out at a hotel. “The service station on the corner will be open at 7,” he told us. “I’ll get word to them and they’ll get your car running.” Well, I hope he was right. Entering the hotel we found out the price of a room was almost the same as we had in our pockets so that was out. The girl behind the desk looked us and then said, “It doesn’t cost anything to stay in the lobby, if you want to stretch out on the couch you’re more than welcome to.” So we did until morning and then went into the restaurant, but looking at the prices on the menu we decided we better leave and hang on to what money we had to fix the car. Before we could get up to leave, the waitress brought us coffee and toast, “Here, you two look like you could use this and it’s not going to cost this place that much to help.” “Thank you Lord for the kindness of strangers you have set in our path, but now, what about the car?!!”

Going over to the service station, the manager told us he had talked to the patrolman and they were just on their way to tow our car in. So the work began trying to restore out little green Bug to running condition. One hour, two hours, then three and still nothing, we sat in the waiting area watching them toil over our car, but try as they did it just wouldn’t start. “We need parts that we don’t have here,” the manager informed us. Great, now what I thought! Seeing the look of dismay on our faces he went on. “Now let’s not give up yet, let me call a friend of mine across the river in Kentucky and see if I can get him to open his parts store for us.” That would have to be one heck of a friend to leave his home on Thanksgiving to do such a thing. When the manager got off the phone he went out, jumped in his truck and was gone for almost an hour, but returned with the needed parts. Two more hours and we finally heard that beautiful sound we had been waiting to here, our little green machine was running once again, WooHoo!! But now there was a new dilemma, six hours of work to get it running plus a towing bill and then running out of state to get parts, I figured the bill was going to be more than we paid for the car! We could write them a check, if they would even take it, but there wasn’t much more in our account than what we had in our pockets. “Uh, God, John here again, thanks for all you’ve supplied so far but now we have a bigger problem, and if you don’t somehow materialize a few hundred dollars right now Cathy and I may become residents of Southpoint, Ohio, living in the back of a garage, working odd jobs to pay off our bill, HELP!!!”

“So you two are headed to West Virginia for Thanksgiving huh? Well you’re gonna make it, but I don’t think dinner will still be on the table, maybe they’ll save you a turkey leg and some pumpkin pie.” Then with a smile the manager handed me the bill. I was scared to look down at the number, but when I did my head immediately shot back up to look this man in the face mostly to see if he was still smiling; he was. Very little was written on the paper, but what was there nearly brought tears to my eyes–Total Bill: $28.

I’m sure some would say, “Well John, sure all those people helped you; a young couple is dire straights on Thanksgiving Day is just good old human kindness.” No argument really, but my question back would be how did they “all” come together like that to bring about that kindness? That’s not easy odds anytime or anyplace. Charles Swindoll said this, “We must cease striving and trust God to provide what He thinks is best and in whatever time He chooses to make it available. But this kind of trusting doesn’t come naturally. It’s a spiritual crisis of the will in which we must choose to exercise faith.”

Over the course of my life, and especially in those early years, I cannot begin to count the many times God’s hand was on my life providing, maybe not what I wanted, but what I needed just at the right time and moment. Folks, I’m not here just to relate a story, I’m here to attest that during the times of life when I have put my faith and hope in God the most, He has always been there for me in evident ways too numerous to expound on here today. My advice, join me as a “Traveler of the Rock Road,” put your “total” trust in Him; that’s what He’s there for, that’s what He wants, that’s how He loves you.

It was late into the night when we reached the road Pearl’s house sat on. Cathy was asleep and I opened the moon roof to gaze up at the brilliance of the stars for a brief moment, and there was the voice. “See those stars Johnny, I made them just for you so that you would know I’m here and I’m big enough to handle anything that you’re willing to turn over to Me, I love you!”

Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”  I got no argument!  See ya next week!!!

We all knew at least one when we were growing up, you could yell at them, insult them, threaten them, push them, and even hit them, and still they would not defend themselves.  They were called cowards, sissies, and chicken because they would not do anything to fight back. Truthfully speaking, I was one of them when just a boy.  I figured if I didn’t do anything offensive in return they would give up and leave me alone.  Unfortunately there are a couple of categories of individuals who viewed this like gas to a fire, if they won’t fight back that energizes them all the more to attack.  We know this type all too well; they’re better referred to as punks or bullies, people I consider more of a coward because they pick “victims” to terrorize who they can feel safe from retaliation.  Like I said, I was pushover at a young age that is until I learned that if I fight back I had a better chance of being left alone.  (Okay it felt good to get a few swats in of my own, there I said it!) There was one such person that could be pushed around pretty easily without sticking up for himself that I know fairly well, matter of fact he’s one of my dearest and closest friends. Because of one act in his life, I learned that a valuable lesson; sometimes it’s not a matter of being too “chicken” to fight; sometimes it’s a matter of waiting for the right reason to “BRING IT!”

Don was a tall lanky boy back in school, raised on a farm in rural Ohio and never took much to many of the things that most teens would do like going out for sports or attending school dances and the like.  But Don was quite gifted in several areas intellectually as well as the arts and theater.  His easy going ways and ready smile were contagious and most folks liked him from moment he came into their lives. Don was one of those people that others would target to pick on because of the reason we’ve already discussed, he just wouldn’t fight back.  One popular boy in school tried on several occasions to push him into a fight and no matter what he did Don would just stand quietly.  “What’s wrong with you, you chicken or something?” the aggressor would taunt.  Still my friend would not raise nary a finger or his voice.  Because I knew this young man better than many, there was an understanding on my part that told me Don had convictions to why he wouldn’t fight, part was because he was a true pacifist and didn’t believe in fighting, and part was because of his Christian convictions that he would not compromise over some jerk’s over inflated ego.  Still I always had a feeling if given the right reason this mild mannered peacenik could come out swinging!  That reason materialized one afternoon in a city park in Michigan.

When Don finished high school he left the farm and Ohio and headed to higher education in Grand Rapids Michigan.  While there he learned a trade and became very skilled as a carpenter, this became his way of life for several years.  While driving to a worksite one afternoon he passed a group of young people congregated in a park in one of the roughest sections of the city.  Giving attention to what was going on as he drove, Don realized that a group of young men had one person down on the ground beating and kicking him.  This certainly put a cold chill down my friend’s back, but he drove on for a short distance and then stopped.  His explanation to me was, “It would have been easy to keep going; after all, what could I do, one person against a mob.  But then there was a voice that asked how are you going to feel if you read about a young man beaten to death in tomorrow’s paper?”  That’s all it took, a squealing tire U-turn and motor revved up in his utility van and it was back to the park, up over the curb; JIM DANDY TO THE RESCUE, JACK!! The crowd scattered for an instant and charged back when Don brought the van to a halt.  Grabbing his claw hammer he waded right into the midst of them swinging for all he was worth and giving the boy on the ground a chance to get up and flee.  The rest of what happened is kind of fuzzy to my man Don.  He knows he got away, he knows he inflicted some pain, and he knows he was on the receiving end of some also, that’s quite evident by a scar on his face he still has today.  If you were to ask him what upset him the most from that fracas, he’d tell you, “I lost my best darn hammer that day!” Chicken huh?  Yeah, right!

Perhaps some would say, “Okay, your friend proved he’s no chicken, but didn’t he compromise his position as a pacifist and a Christian choosing to get into a fight?”  To the contrary, he enhanced it!  Those convictions do mean to live at peace when possible, but they sure don’t mean to stand back and watch a wrong without lifting a finger.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”  My man Don’s stands just as firm today as he ever has in his passion for peace, but on that one afternoon he heard the voice of his Lord saying “I need a warrior!” My friend, my hero’s response, “Lets do this!”  “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” C.S. Lewis

My friend has never been in a situation like again and my hope and prayer is he never will, at least not without me being there!  (I hold to the same convictions as Don, but there’s a little redneck that still lives inside this old man!)  He’s still the same person willing to walk away instead of fighting for what some would call “his honor.”  But that’s not where his honor lies, protecting himself from senseless insult.  This Fellow Traveler of the Rock Road draws his honor from seeing a wrong to someone and being willing to fight to correct it. His honor is not for himself, but for the One he is in service to and from whom he also draws his strength, “The Lord is my light and my salvation–whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life–of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1

The next time one of you other types decide to hurt someone weaker, I’d take a minute if I were you to consider who might be watching, and ready for the call to open a can of whoop-a—(well you know the rest that term), for that “Chicken” just might have standing nearby a Warrior disguised as a lanky mild-mannered individual with an easy smile, and even more, a King, there to defend him. Awesome!

See ya next Monday!!

With Mother’s Day being yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about my own mom and the type of person was, different. I think every individual looks at their mother as unique or special and mine was no exception to the rule. As I sit here preparing to write on this wonderful lady and her ways, I realize my memories could easily fill a book, maybe two. So I’ll just take a portion to tell you about, and while I do, my eyes will be seeing a lady who taught me more than I ever realized and sometimes gave her credit for. Still loving you Ma!!

My mother was hampered all her life with a severe hearing loss and because of that I think she found the world around her a strange and hard place to live as a young person. Money wasn’t always plentiful to her family there in the back hills of West Virginia, so she had to go without hearing aids until she was about 7 years old. By then she had fallen behind what many her age were learning or already knew. With her own mother stricken with a cancer that took her life at a young age and a father who was never around, mom didn’t get the help she needed to keep up in school and finally dropped out when she was 15. When her mother passed away, she went to live with other family which was a bittersweet situation in itself. I’m sure my aunt who took her in loved mom, but it was tough going never having any children and suddenly being saddled down with a teenage girl with issues. After a few years mom found herself looking for a work and trying to make it in the world all alone. Frightened but undaunted she struck out to see what there was for a hard hearing girl to do out there. As a boy, she used to tell me, “Never let anyone tell you, you can’t do something. They used to tell me I wasn’t smart enough for anyone to hire. I’d get mad and say, ‘How do you know that when I haven’t done anything yet?’ As far as I’m concerned, I can do anything!” And that’s how she went at finding a job, head up and full steam ahead. When she would be interviewed for a position, the question would always come up, “Have you ever done this type of work before?” Her answer, “No, but if you give me a chance I’ll show you I can do it!” That line in itself got her a job more often than not. On occasion she would find herself in over her head, but most of the time she showed them and the doubters that she could do the work. A time came while living in Kentucky that mom saw a sign advertising jobs in a town in Ohio and that a bus would be leaving that day taking anyone interested there. She contacted family and they told her, “You’ve never been that far away from home; you won’t be able to do it.” Her answer again, “How do you know I won’t be able unless I try?!!”

Then she threw a few clothes in a bag, filled out some paperwork and took a bus ride to a new Promise Land in Fremont, Ohio; three days later she began working at the H.J. Heinz ketchup company there. This move proved to a great one for my mother because she was now making more money than she had ever seen in her life, $.90 per hour! She called her aunt and this time she was the one following along. She quickly came north and she and her husband plus mom got a place together once again. This could be a good stopping place; after all I showed the hard working and determined side of my mom and how she proved the doubters wrong. Yep that would be a happy ending, except for one little thing that was looming on the horizon that no one planned for or expected; and that one little thing, was me.

As many young ladies have happen, a “Prince Charming” came into my mother’s life that made her happy and promised the world. But then that offer of the world was quickly rescinded the moment he found out she was pregnant; then it was slap it in “B for Boogie” and he was down the road never to be a part of her life again. Mom returned home to West Virginia to live with other relatives until my birth, and once again the “Boo Birds” of unbelievers in my mom raised their voice. “You’re just not going to be able to take care of a baby on your own; you need to give him up for adoption. The doctor who did the delivery said he would adopt him if you would let him.” Up to that point in mama’s life she had gone through several phases, first was quiet and submissive. Then came the time for arguing followed by mild rebellion, but nobody had ever experienced the eruption that came for “Mount Myrtle!” (Myrtle was her given name, but she hated it and preferred going by Kate or Catherine, I don’t blame her!) “How do you know I can’t raise a baby?!! This is the one thing in my life I can call mine and I’m keeping my baby!” So the journey began for a young woman with a severe hearing deficit and a child named Johnny, town to town, state to state, living in small apartments with Ma anything she could do support us until the day we finally returned to Ohio and made it home. 

There’s lot more to the story, some I’ve already told in the past, the rest for another time, but here are the main points I want to bring out by telling you this account today.  First, I wanted you to meet one of the toughest and smartest people I’ve ever known who ventured out and conquered as a Traveler of the Rock Road. She could have listened to others when told she couldn’t do something, but there was a fire in her that said different. She knew what she wanted to do and did it no matter how hard, no matter how much she was told she couldn’t, and she was victorious! The proof is in the man who sits here today writing her praises. My mom was just as she said, she could do anything.

My second point is all you ladies who hold the title “Mother,” you are my heroes! You are the ones who give so much of yourselves for the well being of the ones you love. For you ones like my mother who tackled a good portion of life alone, especially childrearing, there isn’t a medal big enough to give merit to what you have achieved. I read this once and feel it is spot on, “Allow her to sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains.”  No argument!

One final note, my mom always told me about my Father, not the earthy one, but the one she trusted and counted on the most, the Father who strengthened her all her life and the one with whom s he resides today. Wouldn’t be surprised in the least if He told her, “Well done! I told you, you could do anything!”

“Even youths will grow weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”   Isaiah 40:30-31

I love you mama!
See ya next Monday.

One of my favorite joys as a youngster was sitting at the dinning room table while my Great Aunt Pearl told me stories of the olden days growing up in West Virginia.  She could keep me captivated for hours, which she liked also since that way she could put me to work breaking peas out of their pods, pulling grapes from the vines brought in the house or some other produce from the garden. On this occasion she had begun telling about her brother Roscoe.  “Who’s Roscoe?” I asked.  I only knew of one brother to Pearl and his name was Sam.  “Sam was my younger brother, but John Roscoe (his full name) was my older brother, but he died when he was just 21 from pneumonia back in 1923.” “Wow, that was a long time ago,” I said seeing that it was now in the mid 60s.  “Do you really remember him that well?”  And then, Pearl stopped for a moment and just stared toward the wall.  Somehow I knew she wasn’t looking at anything on the wall, she was seeing her big brother Roscoe.  With softness in her eyes and a smile on her lips she began, “Tall, slender, rugged but good looking, that was Roscoe.  All the girls in the region were crazy about him.”  “Popular with the girls, that’s cool!” I said.  Now Pearl was looking straight at me, “Let me tell you a story about what he thought of being popular with the girls, Little Boy Blue.”  (Had to throw that Blue Boy in there because that’s what she always called me and it still brings a smile, yes and even a couple of tears when I remember.)   She started once more, “Back when I was a little girl all the kids in the region went to the same school and were taught in the same room.  The youngest would sit closest to the front and the rest would be in the next rows back according to age.  There was a road that led to school, but the quickest way there was a foot path that all the kids would take.  It led to a stream where rocks had been placed in the water for crossing without getting wet.  I must have been seven or so and walking by myself to school.  (A wooded path and a little girl walking by herself? Let’s see that kind of security of mind in this day and age!)  It had rained hard the night before and the path was slick, I ended up falling getting mud on my face, hands, dress and books.  Three older girls came upon me all dirty and laughed at the sight I was.  It made me feel bad, but there wasn’t enough time to go back home and change, had to get to school so I kept on walking.  The older girls and I arrived at the stream, but didn’t cross.  The rain had made the water rise and all the stepping stones were submerged several inches, so we just stood there trying to figure the best way to cross.  One of the girls looked back up the path and said, ‘Oh, here comes Roscoe, he’ll get us across!’  When Roscoe reached where we standing the three surrounded him, batting their eyes and using their softest voices pleaded with him to help them across the stream.”

Pearl stopped here for a moment, for now something was happening I had seen rarely from my beloved Great Aunt Pearly Mae, tears were flowing freely down both cheeks. After a moment of composure she continued with her story.  “I saw Roscoe look over my way and just stare as I stood at a distance quietly.  I thought he must be thinking he’d never seen such a dirty, snot faced, rag doll of a person as what I must have looked like.” Now her voice broke with the emotion of love combined with laughter, “Leaving those other girls standing there staring, he walked right over to me, scooped me up, put me on his shoulders and said, “Hang on Sis, I’ll get you over.  He waded across the stream with me perched up high and ready to burst from joy for what he did showing how much he loved me.”

It was years later that Pearl’s words came home to roost on her thick headed great-nephew, “He showed how much he loved her, not with words, but with his actions, awesome!!”

This story made me think about two areas of my life–the first is my family, wife, children and that includes in-law children, and grandchildren.  I never, never, tire of telling them how much I love them and never will.  But the question comes, do I do enough to show them how much I love them?  Personally I’d like to think so.  The second thought and really the most important is do I really love the one I call Lord–not only with my words, but with my actions and deeds?  I consider this a very important question that each one of us who call ourselves “Believers” should ask on occasion.

1 John 3:18-19 tells us, “Little children, let us stop just saying we love people; let us really love them, and show it by our actions. Then we will know for sure, by our actions, that we are on God’s side, and our consciences will be clear, even when we stand before the Lord” (Living Bible).  Two of the best actions I’ve found are prayer and reading God’s Word regularly, it helps to know how to put His love for me and you to work.  If you need more, get with me and I’ll send you a booklet that might be of help.

Pearl finished her story that day telling me of the last action of love Roscoe ever did for her; and that action came in his dying words to his father, “Let mother and sisters know I’ll see them in Heaven.”  Those words tell of an action of love and faith that he wanted the others to know“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”  In other words, “I’ll be there waiting for you.”

Pearl went to join Roscoe in Heaven 30 years ago now, and at times when thinking of them and this story, my imagination lets me envision a little one running full stride into the arms of her tall, slender, rugged but handsome big brother who slings her up onto his shoulders where the two of them celebrate being together again, as he then carries her to the arms of her Lord.  What a reunion?!! What a big brother?!!  Oh, what a Savior?!!  Thanks for reading, see you next Monday!!!  

I knew it was some kind of setup the minute these guys started talking to me, but I thought what the heck, I’ll go with it anyway. “Hey Miller, you’re married aren’t ya?”

“Yeah I am, happily too, why?” “Is your wife good looking?” “Yes, I believe she’s very good looking.” “Well I can tell you right now she’s not as pretty as old Bill’s wife.”

This conversation was going on at a place I worked for a short while years ago and the Bill they referred to was a short potbellied figure of a man easily in his sixties and the oldest worker there. These few guys who were needling me seemed to enjoy getting under people’s skin, especially Bill. “Okay, Bill’s wife is prettier than mine, that’s fine,” I answered, but they didn’t want to leave it there. “No, you don’t understand, Old Bill is married to the most beautiful woman in the world! Go over there and ask him, have him show you a picture of her.” I could tell by the smiles of the others as the ringleader spoke that there was a lot more to this story than what was being said, but I answered, “Nah, I’ll take your word on it.” Still these guys weren’t going to let the lazy dog lie, so to speak so one yelled out, “Hey Bill, come here!” Bill, wearing kind of a half smile looked as if he knew what they wanted, so he left his work station and came over to where we were. “Tell Miller here how you’re married to the most beautiful woman in the world and you wouldn’t trade her for any glamorous movie star there is.” Bill answered quickly, “Yeah, that’s right, she’s that beautiful and no, I wouldn’t trade her for any other woman in the world.”   “You’re one very lucky man, Bill,” I offered, and he came back with, “Oh, don’t I know it!” Before another word could be spoken one of the instigators of this whole conversation shot out, “Well show him a picture so he can see for himself.” With no hesitation Bill dug into the back pocket of his overalls and retrieved an old and overstuffed wallet. Opening up to the center he gazed down and smiled at the picture before him, then handed it over for me to see, when I looked upon the image I think my face might have went a little blank and the only word I could come up with was, “Oh,” and the other guys standing there fell all over themselves laughing so hard. In the picture was Bill and a woman every bit as large as him, she had one of those over permed hairstyles, a large mole on her chin and another just under her left nostril. She did radiate with a big smile, but it also made it evident that teeth were no longer part of her anatomy. Bill continued to smile at me as I handed his wallet back over, almost as if he knew what I was thinking, but I managed to get out, “Well I’m sure you two have a wonderful marriage, Bill.” “Oh, we do,” he shot back quickly, married over 45 years and he dug through his wallet until he came up with an old wedding pic to show me. I admit this was a better portrait of his gal, but frankly not by a whole lot. I confessed by now I even chuckled a little thinking old Bill here might be in on pranking me with these other guys. But the more he spoke the more I realized he believed every word that came for his lips. “I met her one day as she sat by the lake and I asked if I could sit with her and she said yes. The more we talked and the more I gazed at her the more I came to realize I had never been with anyone so beautiful in my life. First time she let me hold her hand I thought I would melt, and never wanted to let go. We were together everyday for two weeks before I got the nerve up to ask her to marry me; and one month later we walked down the aisle, said our I dos and have been together every since. I wake up every morning knowing in my heart I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world and then I thank God for it all. These guys here like giving me a hard, saying all kinds of things I don’t pay a lot of attention to, but I know I wouldn’t leave her alone with any of them, would not trust them any farther than I could throw them!” “Oh yeah Bill,” one shouted out, “just give me chance to get my hands on that hot mama of yours!” And the roar of laughter continued as he closed his wallet, placed it back in his pants and walked back to his work area, and as the day wore on I found myself laughing and cracking jokes at whole thing with them; oh the ignorance of youth sometimes.

I didn’t stay at that job long and never saw many of those guys again, but for whatever reason God would put Bill and his bride in my path occasionally. Every time I saw them they were enjoying being together and I would kid her about keeping Bill out of trouble, they both enjoyed that. As the years went on and I would see them, Bill had to push his wife in a wheelchair because of illness that was weakening her body, but still they smiled when talking to others, and being together. They had a daughter I ran into once and asked how they were since I hadn’t seen them in a while. With sadness she told me her mom had passed away and her dad never was the same afterwards, now he was living in a nursing home. I commented that must have been hard on Bill since they were always together. She commented, “Oh, all the way up to the end, she couldn’t speak or even know any of us anymore, but he was content just to sit by her bed and hold her hand.” Just like when he first fell in love with her,” I thought. I went to see Bill and he smiled big when I came into the room, but it didn’t take long to realize he really didn’t know who I was anymore. There next to his bed on a stand was a picture of his “Beautiful” Lady. I had a feeling he was still remembering her.

Helen Keller said, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.” Well, if anyone would know that it would have been her; and from what I saw, I believed Old Bill learned that also. You see his words told me he saw her like no else had or even could, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; beauty like that has to radiate from the inside out. Bill was a lucky man for he saw that beauty that others didn’t see all his life and he counted himself blessed because of it. I believe Bill did what another old saying relates, “Don’t choose the one who the world sees as beautiful, but rather choose the one who makes your world beautiful.”

I generally put a bible passage or two at this point, but today I think I’m not going to do that. To tell the truth, I sat down to write one story and God gave me this one, this memory instead; I got no complaints. But rather I want to say that Bill saw and treated his beloved wife the way God has meant for all men to do; to treat them as they were the most important and beautiful person in their life, that’s God’s way for sure. (If you still need scriptures, get with me and I’ll load you up!) Just imagine what the world would look like if every man saw his wife like that, I think we’re talking something on the level of AWESOME!

It’s now been forty years I’ve “Traveled the Rock Road” hand in hand with my own most beautiful Lady in the world and thanks to ones like Bill and my Lord who taught me how to love, really love and see beauty; well, I think I’m allowed to brag that I am a better and Blessed man.

Men, rediscover the love and beauty you once felt for that person who shares your life, it’ll be beyond words how wonderful you’re going to feel! And if you’ve already that then tell her again, and then again, and then again, just how beautiful she is in your life now and forever. Let me know how it goes will ya? Got a feeling I know anyway!!

See Ya Next Week!