Traveling the Rock Road

I remember a few years back there was a young woman that the press heralded as a hero for this incredible feat that she was credited for performing.  Her story and picture was splashed all over the media in the days that followed which was wonderful,  I think it’s great when we have someone to admire for what they did or what they stood for in the face of adversity.  There was only one problem; the story was complete fabrication, not by this gal, but by some PR people who thought the country, at that time, needed a story of heroism whether it was embellished or not.  As a matter of fact, it was the young lady who stepped forward to say it wasn’t true, which personally made her a bigger hero to me than what the overzealous press releases did.

Now I tell this not to stir up debate on how much we should trust what we read in the news (of course it never hurts to check certain things out more once in a while), but more to explore a subject that’s been on my mind recently and that is just what makes someone a hero?  I’ve looked at the usual definitions and descriptions which I have no problems with (for the most part) and found that I just wasn’t in total agreement with what I read. The usual meaning given reads something like this, “A person who is greatly admired for great or brave acts and fine qualities.”  I suppose that’s a fair assessment, but in my rather off the wall thought process I just don’t feel those mentioned qualities go far enough to define the term “hero.”  So often when we think of a hero we come up with names of well known individuals who performed great achievements that the world gets opportunity to learn about.  Again, I can agree with these folks being labeled as heroes (for the most part), but I still believe there are many, many more the world will never hear of whose achievements are every bit as important and in some ways even more than the ones we come to know.   For the rest of this story I want to introduce several folks, along with their accomplishments and why I see them as heroes.

There was this woman I knew who had a number of things going against her in life.  She suffered from physical, emotional and mental shortcomings.  She once met a man who she thought was going to be her knight in shining armor.  Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and he left after only a few weeks, but not before leaving her pregnant.  She was urged by many to give up the baby saying it would be the best thing to do.  But she was determined that child, her child would be raised by her to the best she could.  She spent a major part of her life pouring everything she could into that youngster, working long toiling hours at a job that wore her body down as well as sacrificing much to see that this gift of God (as she saw him) would have a better start to life than she did.  When she was called home to Heaven, she left a son who never forgot all she did and all she was to him, the greatest mom any boy could ever have.  Three generations of her descendants all feel the same way.  (I’m sure you’ve figured it out that this woman, this hero was my very own mother.)

I once had a Sunday school teacher by the name of Billie.  She had a thick southern accent which made me like her immediately seeing how my own roots run through West   Virginia, but that wasn’t the main reason I liked this southern gal.  Billie had an almost magical way about her; you just couldn’t feel anything but happiness when you were around her.  A person having the worst day of their life would come away with spirits raised by the way this dear saint showed concern for them, and almost always with a smile on the face and laughter that was healing to the soul.  Billie lived a full life, but to all whose lives she touched it was way too soon.  This hero gave to many what I describe as her 3 H’s: “Hope, Happiness, Herself.”

The soldier you see receiving the big hug is a gentleman named Tom, and the girl is his daughter, Carmen.  As you probably perceived, Tom had just returned home from active duty (Operation Desert Storm, I believe) and his precious angel could not, (nor would have wanted to), harness the emotions of seeing her dad return home from war, not to downplay the happy reunion after deployment, but something just tells me Tom would have had a greeting similar no matter what he was returning from.  You see Tom’s and my paths have only crossed a few times in our lives, but everything I know of him places him high on my list of ones I call Men of Honor.  From the time I met this soft spoken man, I had a hunch there was something special about him.  That’s been proven to me by the dedication, love and example to his wonderful family.  Some men feel this sense to have what I call a “macho persona.”  But take a person like Tom, well he doesn’t need that. He, I believe, has shown true manhood with gentleness, kindness and complete love and devotion to the most important people in his life–his Lady, his son, his daughter, and three of the cutest granddaughters you’ll ever see!  I’m convinced the hug and tears you see flowing from Tom’s beloved Carmen are a representation of how his whole family felt that day he returned from deployment; the greatest hero and the strongest man that God could have placed in their lives was now back with them.  Awesome!!!

My last example is a kid I knew from high-school days.  I liked him, but he had one bad habit, he was always talking religion to me.  And no matter how many times I told him to stop, or how aggravated I got with him he just wouldn’t give it a rest!  Through a series of events too long to go into I came to realize he wasn’t pushing a religion at all, he was offering me something more, a Savior, Christ Jesus my Lord.  This wasn’t someone who was fanatical about his beliefs; this was a Brother who was so concerned about me to the point that he was not going to give up telling about two things I needed, the love of a Father, and eternal life through a Redeemer!  Where ever you are today Bric, know that you are still my Brother, and my Hero!

To wrap this up, I’ll make my final point; any and all have abilities and opportunities to be heroes.  Maybe not on a world stage for all to see, maybe not so great that it brings you accolades from millions everywhere; but you have what it takes to touch someone’s life in a positive manner, in a way that makes them see you like nobody else will; that makes you their forever hero.  As I say often, never forget how special you are to God and to others when you give of yourself.

Of course I must confess that I do have one HERO that many have heard of and know personally.  If you would like to know my Hero personally there’s a book that’s been around for a long time that tells all about Him.  A good place to start knowing Him, and his love comes for John 3:16.  Nuff said!

Thanks for reading and Blessings to you and your loved ones!!!

When Cathy and I married 40 years ago, she knew right from the start she wanted some day to have children.  Myself, I wasn’t as sure as her, but we both figured I’d come around.  (I’m certainly glad I did!)  Of course, we wanted some time first just for her and me to draw closer before having kids, we just didn’t expect it to be as long as it was; six years.  Around our 3^rd year together we started trying for children but to no avail.  Then began visits to doctors for both of us to see if there was a problem, but never got really a conclusion to what might be the problem.  We began to think that maybe we weren’t meant to have children, at least not natural, so the discussion turned to adoption.  After all, Cathy was adopted and had a great relationship with her parents so we figured that’s the direction the Lord wanted us to go.  That decision nearly shattered all our dreams and desires to have children, not to mention our spiritual lives.

There were many places to choose from that adopted out homeless children which included both state to private organizations. We opted for one that came recommended to us; a “Christian” children’s home over in the next state.  We were excited to work with an outfit like this and couldn’t wait to get started.  I sensed a little bit of a problem the moment we stepped in by the way people were looking at me.  I had my typical dress garb on, for me at least; boots, jeans, black shirt under a dress jacket, and perhaps my hair was a little on the long side. (Strike one!)  Entering a large office with a rather conservative looking gentleman sitting behind a desk, we began a rather cold interview where we were asked many pointed questions about our lives, all to which we answered truthfully.  After the initial interview (which felt more like an interrogation), we were assigned a case worker who would come to our home and do more investigating over the course of several months.  Our home was a modest trailer at that time, but it was clean and more than room for a family of three, besides, it wasn’t going to be our permanent residence.  The home studies and interviews went on with our case worker making several visits and always with a slight coldness the same way we felt when we first went to their office.  There were many questions about our past, present, family, parents, relationship to each other, and of course our relationship to the Lord.  One question that came often was our financial situation which only made sense to me thinking they wanted to be sure we could afford to have a child.  There was always that hidden fear that we would be rejected but they told us from the start, “If we choose not to place a child with you know well in advance of the last home study.”  Every time we would get notification in the mail of when the next visit would be our hearts jumped with excitement believing we would soon be adding to our family.  Also during this time we started getting a lot of mailers from the children’s home and the church they were affiliated with seeking donations for this program and the work they were involved with.  Since we supported our own church and money was tight, we chose not to contribute thinking if the subject ever came up we could give them our reasons and they would understand. (Strike Two!)

The day finally came; we were notified that our case worker would be coming for the “last” home visit!  We made it!  Excitement filled our lives and we even told a few people that we would probably have our baby soon.  Our frequent visitor showed on the appointed day to be greeted by a very happy young couple, at least for the moment. Another hour of questions filled the room, and then a long pause of silence, before he uttered the words, “Well, I suppose you’re waiting for an answer from me, right?”  Our faces went somber and I could hear the words be shouted; (Strike Three, you’re out of here!)  “We have decided after long consideration and prayer that you are not the type of couple we feel we can place a child with.”  “Why not,” was my question.  “We have ascertained that your spiritual life is not what we feel it should be.”  Well, howdy!  What do you say after a comment like that?  I know what I wanted to say, but all that came out was, “What about the promise that if we didn’t make it we’d be told well in advance of this last meeting?”  A moment of silence and then, “I’m sorry, goodbye,” and he was out of the chair and headed out to his car.  There was a long time that neither Cathy or I spoke, just a lot of hugging and tears.  Hurt, sad, confused and yes, angry, we had all that. We didn’t even know what we were supposed to do next.  The man said our spiritual lives were not what they should be.  What the heck does that mean?!!  If they thought my spiritual life was lacking now they should have seen me years back!  But for that matter I think I did everything possible to live up to their assessment for the next 6 months.  I quit going to church, and when I did Cathy did.  I also didn’t want anything to do with folks that called themselves Christians, I was mad at them as well as the people from the children’s home, and I was really mad at God!!  “God, how could you let this happen?!!! We trusted you and believed we were doing what you wanted us to do, and you let us down!!!

Okay, I’m going to shift gears on you, and if you find anything to take from this story make it these next few sentences.

It would be very easy to live with animosity for the way we were treated, whether the assessment was true or other wise.  But if I held to that anger, then I would be putting a stamp of approval on what they said.  If I am to call myself a Believer, then I need to show that I am in my actions over my words.  The Bible is clear on how important it is to rid yourself of malice toward anyone. (Ephesians 4:31,32 and Matthew 6:14,15.)  It’s also not healthy; holding on to rage in one’s life has the same effect as a person who’s just been told he has a spot of cancer on a lung, and he instantly goes out and starts smoking 3 packs of cigarettes a day. Healing cannot take place if you feed the disease!

Do I feel we were wronged?  Quite frankly, yes; but what is to be gained by allowing that to permeate my life?  Nothing!  I’ve seen too often people who have been handicapped in life because of some wrong done them, and they just can’t shake it, or forgive. Trust me dear ones, holding on to wrongs is like venom in your system that slowly robs life from you.  That is not what we are put here for, especially the ones of us who call ourselves Christians.  “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9).

I know, I know, I’ve said a lot (again!) to get to my main point which is do not let anything rob you of the joy God wants for you in Christ Jesus.  Things will always happen to all of us and some can be earth shattering for a time.  But that doesn’t mean God has abandoned you, He’s still there and His love is just as strong (Romans 8:38,39).

Going back to our friends at the children’s home and the remark of something lacking in our spiritual lives; well there probably was seeing how young we were at the time.  It would have been nice to know what they were talking about though, then maybe we could have corrected it and held that baby in our arms that we so desperately wanted.  But then again, maybe God had better ideas, like what I touched today, forgiving and not letting bitterness rule your life.  Trust me, it’s made all the difference in the world for this man who now prays for a certain organization the God might bless them.

One last thought is the one that says sometimes God has a better idea in store, so let this sadness pass, for there’s something better in store.  We couldn’t see it then, but three kids, two daughters-in-law, a son-in-law, five grandchildren later, plus a slew of others that call my Lady and I Grandma and Grandpa; well I think we can see His plan pretty clearly now.  Maybe there was something lacking in us “spiritually,” but I believe God saw something more than in us than anyone else could, I’m glad for that because at one time I didn’t see anything worth going on for; and now all we see are blessings from the One who knows our hearts best!  Nuff said, thanks for reading!!

Years back, before we built our present home, we shared a house with a delightful couple with two young children; we occupied the bottom floor and they the top.  These two were enjoyable to be around because of their love for people and for their Lord.  Instead of saying a prayer at mealtime they would sing a short song unto the Lord, I could set my watch by when I heard their melodic praise come through the floor.  Nearby lived an elderly man who was alone in the world that these kids befriended and made part of their family.  He was too feeble to climb the steps to their home so they would visit everyday and even taught the children to call him grandpa.  The time came when the couple made the decision to move back to Ohio, their home state.  When they broke the news to the old man, he began to cry thinking the closest thing to a family was now leaving him. Seeing his tears the wife spoke up quickly, “Oh you don’t understand, when we said we’re moving to Ohio we meant all of us, you too.  We couldn’t leave you behind; you’re part of our family.” And family they stayed until the gent passed away 6 months later, happier than he had ever been in his life.

While Cathy and I were on our 40^th anniversary trip recently we met a couple that were quite a bit older than us, but had only been married 15 years.  Both had lost their first mates earlier in life and found themselves alone in the world.  Talking to them I got the impression neither was looking for someone else, but they both realized they were hurting.  She and her first husband had played music together in church for years, her the piano and he played guitar.  She deeply missed the great times they had ministering to others in their own special way and felt great sadness when considering that she would never be able to do such a calling again; until a chance encounter.  She met a man who had lost his wife to cancer and even though he wasn’t looking for another relationship he did miss long walks, traveling and just talking to the love of his life, and deep inside it was tearing him up.  He was in need of someone else to fill the void, just as our lady yearned for something that was missing in her life.  They met, they married and have been happy together all these years.  Oh, did I mention he was a guitar player and the two spent much time in song for others to enjoy; awesome!

I once met a woman working in a convenience store who had quite a load on her plate. The store was her 2^nd job, the 1^st being a house cleaner to several homes.  As I got to know her I learned her husband had been hurt on his job causing permanent damage that hindered him from ever working again.  He drew disability, but between that and her two jobs it just wasn’t enough to cover all the bills for her and her family.  On this one occasion she confided that they were three months behind on the house payment and expected foreclosure anytime.  She told me in a voice that was weary and without words conveyed the message, “I’ve done all I can, there’s nothing more to give. I thought about her situation for a week and decided to offer to pay at least one month on the house payment as a hope for a little breathing room.  “Thanks, but I don’t have a house payment anymore, it’s all paid off!” she delightedly told me at our next meeting wearing something I had not seen on her often, a great big smile.  Seems one day she got a phone call from the bank asking her to come in.  She figured it was the start to the final straw of losing her home.  Instead she was taken into an office were she was informed that an individual who wished to stay anonymous had came by the bank the day earlier and paid off her house.  I don’t think she ever found out who it was, but later I did.  He was an unsuspecting individual who stopped by the store sometimes and learned of her and her family’s fate.  He didn’t want anyone to know it was him and frankly few would have ventured a guess that this man had that kind of money, but he did.  He wasn’t looking for anything in return for his generosity; he just saw a need he could fulfill.

I read a quote recently that went like this; “Somebody needs what you have to give.  It may not be your money; it may be your time.  It may be your listening ear.  It may be your arms to encourage.  It may be your smile to uplift.  Who knows?  Maybe just like that little baby, putting your arm around somebody and letting him or her know that you care can help begin to heal that person’s heart.  Maybe you can give a rescuing hug.”

Each of these stories tells of someone in need, and someone who came forth to fill that need.  These types of stories go on more than we’ll ever know because generally speaking they’re not the type of thing that grabs headlines, only the people involved know, and there’s not a thing wrong with that!

As a Christian, I’ve learned one of the best ways I can be a help to many is to be on my knees.  I hear of situations all the time where I yearn to help but am not able, except in prayer and that’s not a bad place to go when you can’t do anything else.  In other words, I can see a need at times and be a help physically, and other times spiritually; I may not be able to fix the problem, but I know where to go and “Who” to go to that can.

One of my favorite Bible passages is Philippians 4:6, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” 

I’ve often wondered what life would be like around us if everyone who saw a need, saw that “They” were needed, would answer the call; and if every person who called themselves a Child of the King would commit time to prayer for others.  Personally, because of my beliefs I get excited just at the thought!  I hope you’ll give consideration to what I have said today.  Remember, no matter what your circumstance, you’re always in a position to be that strength, that kindness, that need, that prayer for someone else. Matter of fact I’m going to give you that chance right now.

This is Julie standing with my Lady, Cathy.  We met on a path in the SmokyMountains for a brief moment, but in that moment we learned a lot about this precious gal.  She saw Cathy’s fancy walking stick, a gift given to her for being a cancer survivor.  We told a park ranger we met on the trail about the meaning of the stick.  Later he passed Julie who he told her about the lady with the stick.  When she saw us coming she knew Cathy already and had a connection, for you see Julie is battling cancer for the 3^rd time. Strangers from different parts of the country passing on a mountain trail, could have very easily just walked on with a greeting and smile, but God had other plans.  He sees a need, and sees someone who can fill that need by placing maybe the only person that day who could empathize with what Julie is going through, and offer words of encouragement, a embracing hug that says I care, and a prayer right there on the trail before we went our separate ways, and a promise to continue to pray.

So here’s my challenge, you can’t say you don’t her, I just introduced you to Julie.  You can’t say you’re not aware of her problem; I just brought it to the forefront, with her permission.  And if you call yourself a Christian, you sure can’t say there’s nothing I can do.  Of the course there is; pray, Pray, PRAY!  Here is a need; I believe there’s someone who can fill it.  Please put Julie on your prayer list not only for her fight with cancer but for several other trials going on in her life at this time.  Anyone who would like to send Julie a message, write it here and we’ll see she gets it.

There’s always going to be people with needs looking for hope somewhere.  The question doesn’t come down to what can you do; but rather what “Will” you do.  Maybe it’s a lot; wonderful.  Maybe it’s only something small; great. But maybe it’s only a willingness to pray diligently; AWESOME!

Never forget, you are special and you are needed by someone.

Thanks for reading!!!

Yesterday on the Blue Ridge Parkway we met this young couple, Addison and Jahnavi. They had left Vermont earlier with their bicycles loaded to the hilt plus one of those pull behind child carriers for their dog “Zoso.”  A wonderfully pleasant couple who we found some similar ground with, biking of course; but both were musicians and were heading to Austin in hopes of finding work in the music industry there.  Being young and adventurous, they weren’t interested in a long mundane drive to their new home; they wanted a chance to see America, to meet new people, and to build memories.  At the point our paths crossed they still had two months to reach their destination, but were still upbeat about finishing the task they set ahead of them.

These two modern-day pioneers touched my heart in the time we spent together, two young people who have a dream and chose to pursue to it no matter how tough the road ahead was; Awesome!

As a Christian they certainly challenged my heart, how often have I given up or not tried at all because I saw the task too hard to accomplish.

James, the half brother of Jesus said it like this, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

This day I’m inspired by my Lord and two young “Travelers of the Rock Road,” to be excited about what lies ahead, not knowing exactly all I’ll encounter on the path I choose, but sure that the end result is well worth the challenge to get there.

Addison and Jahnavi probably didn’t know they were used by my Lord to motivate the Gray One; the important thing is I did. After we gave them bracelets that said “Blessed,” they allowed us to pray for them and we departed.

I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again but, I thank God that they did.  And I would like to do a shout out to the good people of Austin, Texas; if you see a young couple riding bikes loaded like Conestoga Wagons, pulling a child carrier with a pooch named Zoso in it, give them a hand getting settled in your community.  When it comes to young folks with perseverance and motivation; your gain is Vermont’s loss!

Hello all, Cathy and I are heading out the door for our 40^th anniversary trip which we’re taking to our favorite place, the mountains.  It’s always great for us to get off to ourselves and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation.  But also, we use this time an opportunity to draw closer to our Lord and Savior.  Two of the best ways to accomplish this is 1^st spending time in God’s Word, and 2^nd is time spent in prayer, be it praise or petition.  Many of you know (or possibly don’t maybe) that you are a regular part of these prayers; from folks that we’ve known since our youngest childhood days to people that perhaps we’ve only come in contact with a few times.  If you’d like us to pray for something for you or someone you know, please contact us and we will consider it an honor to go before the Lord on your behalf.  Send us a message here and we’ll read it, but won’t publish who you are or what your request is.  The same thing for Facebook, send us a private message and we will keep you and your request totally private.

Some may ask why we do this.  Well, it is definitely not to impress anyone or give the impression that we’re “holier than thou” people.  We’re the same anyone, no better than anyone.  But we hold firmly to the belief that when we call ourselves Christians we’re not saying so much who we are, but what we do in the Lord.  His word is quite clear on this subject; Pray for Each Other!!

Ephesians 6:18 – Praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication.  To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints,

1 Timothy 2:1 – First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people,

Philippians 4:6 – Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 – Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

We praise our Lord for the 40 years He has given us together, believing that without Him in our lives this milestone would have never been reached.  We thank God for each of you that He has placed in our lives.

This week’s entry to “Traveling the Rock Road” will be different, instead of figurative stories, we will be bringing real pictures and short stories of being on the Rock Road.  I hope you will join us by reading about our journey of literally seeing and experiencing the Lord’s awesome creation.

As always, Blessings to you and your Loved Ones!

Ben and I sat for a long time in the restaurant, making small talk, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes one after another. Over the course of time I had been called away from home to talk, and often mostly listen, to someone going through a rough time.  I am neither a trained nor licensed counselor, but somehow I’ve found myself in settings like the one I was in now with Ben, called because someone needed to talk to somebody, anybody, and like I said I was, and still am a good listener.  I hardly knew Ben, but his wife had been several years behind me in school and we shared a friendship.  It was her that called asking if I would meet with her husband because he had become distraught and she didn’t know who else to contact.  I agreed and we met in Fort Wayne, IN since they had left our hometown also and this was now a good halfway point.

When we had spent almost an hour together, Ben finally blurted out what was causing him so much grief.  “Jenny wants us to start a family, but I don’t think I can do it.”  Smiling I said, “Ben, I think that’s the way most of guys are, the gals seem to always be more ready for that step than we are; have you told her you think you need more time?” Ben looking sternly at me now retorted, “That’s not what I mean. I’m not ready now, and I won’t be ready later; I can’t be a father I don’t have the ability to do it.”  If he didn’t have my full attention earlier, he did now.  “I don’t know you that well, but you seem like a great guy; why would you think that of yourself.  Only staring for a moment, Ben finally said, “We need to get out of here,” and he tossed a few dollars on the table to cover our coffee and headed for the door with me in hot pursuit.  When we were finally outside he lit another cigarette and didn’t say anything for a long time again, and I waited patiently.  Finally the words came forth that told the story of what haunted him so badly. “I can’t be a father because I don’t how to be one, I never had a father.”  I now knew where he was going before he uttered that terrible word that at least on one occasion I heard describe me,  “John, I’m a Bas###d!  For ones not familiar with the word I’ve disguised the dictionary definition is 1. A child born out of wedlock.  2. Something that is of irregular, inferior, or dubious origin.  (How’d you like have that descriptive hung on ya?)  Then he said, “I’m sorry, this was a mistake, I should have never come here.”  “Why is that Ben?”  Tossing his cigarette to the ground he snapped back, “Because unless you’ve been there you can’t possibly know what I’m going through.”  

Good Night, the way you arrange things Lord!  This old boy didn’t have a clue who he was talking to and getting ready to kick to the curb.  Mentally, for just a short moment I had left him.  The year was approximately 1985, but I had been swished back to 1970 where I was sitting at the kitchen table with one of my greatest heroes, Great-Aunt Pearl. The year prior I had learned the truth about my own conception, that the last name I carried belonged to a man that might have done his part to bring life to me, but never claimed me as his, never once filled the title or role of dad.  Mom who suffered from anxiety attacks never would talk to me about him especially after I learned the truth about the old buggerhead!  So I had to rely on Pearl to fill in the gaps of what I didn’t know.  On this certain evening we were together, she was relating to me the time mom and her first boyfriend came to her (Mom’s mother died when she was young and Pearl raised and cared for her after), the two young lovers were in their teens at that time and wanted permission to marry.  “What did you tell them?” I asked. “I said absolutely not, they were too young to be talking such foolishness.”  I asked, “What ever happened to the guy?”  “Oh, he finished school and married some years later, now he’s a successful farmer with a great big place with quite a few farmhands.”  My mind then went to all the years my mom struggled in relationships, all the hours she put in at her job to support us, and all that Pearl experienced also for having to live with her.  I just had to ask, “If you had to do it all over again, would you have let them marry?”  She didn’t even hesitate, “No.” “Pearl, how can you say that?” I questioned.  “As tough as mom and you have had it, wouldn’t it have been best for everyone?  Again, “No” she answered.  “But why?” I asked almost pleading for some type of understanding.  Again, with no indecision in her soft voice, and smiling at me she said, “Because had I allowed that, we wouldn’t have you, and you are the most important person God put in your mother’s life, and in mine.”

“Long before you were conceived by your parents, you were conceived in the mind of God.  It is not fate, nor chance, nor luck, nor coincidence that you are breathing at this very moment.  You are alive because God wanted to create you!  The Bible says, The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me” (Psalm 138:8a NIV).  Rick Warren

It took a while to sink into this hard head of mine, but I came to realize that I was not an accident; I was not inferior to anyone because of my birth, and it didn’t matter anymore that I was robbed of the love of a father; I discovered I was immensely loved, by my Heavenly Father.  Awesome!  To take it a step further, I came to realize I was a pretty groovy guy! (You like that old 60s hippie word?!!)  Again, not because I say so, but because my “Father” says so.

Psalm 139:14-16 – “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.  My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.  Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”

Returning to the present, Ben and I spent the next hour talking about all things I’ve mentioned here, and doing my best to convince him that, yes, he would make mistakes; all us earthly papas do to one degree or another.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a great dad to his future kids.  “Ben, it’s my belief that in some ways we’re more prepared for children than ones who had two parents, we know the importance of being there for them with unconditional love, just like our big “Papa!”  It was one of those times the words the Lord gave me seemed to sink in because the man who was now departing me had a much different, more positive attitude about himself than when we first began that day.

Just before he got in his car to drive off he yelled out, “Hey Miller, got one last question for you.”  “Shoot!”  “If you were to meet your old man now, what would you say to him?” My biological father died several years before Ben and me getting together, but had the occasion reared up while “Traveling the Rock Road,” I had it memorized what I’d say, “Hey Howie!  Whether or not you ever realized it, you were part of God’s plan; ya did good!

I met Tinker back in ‘75 when I worked in some of the area high-schools as a volunteer with troubled teens.  He was a short, kind of round boy with wavy hair, freckles and an ever present grin.  Our paths crossed the first time I entered his school and was looking for the office.  Out of no where comes Tinker like a designated greeter and helps me find where I needed to go, talking my leg off the entire time we were together.  I learned he was a manager for several sports at the school and enjoyed interacting with everyone he could.  That part I could tell right away.  Later in the day when I was in the lunchroom with two of the boys I worked with up walks Tinker just as friendly as when we met earlier.  My two charges weren’t so nice in their response saying what I considered some awful things.  Tink just laughed it off and walked away. When he left I questioned why they were so mean to him.  “Oh everyone talks to Tinker that way, he’s a real loser, not even smart enough to know when people are making fun of him.”  “Still,” I answered, “it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little nicer to him.”  These guys just didn’t see it that way, “He’s such a dork he deserves everything he gets!  I thought about a couple of guys from my own school days, just like Tinker they never caused any trouble or harm, but were easy targets to be made fun of.  I learned Tinker was really getting verbally abused recently when he decided to go out for the track team as a long distance runner.  At the first practice Jeff, a really good runner and athlete gave him what for. “Tinker, you’re no long distance runner.  I’ll tell you what, I’m a sprinter and never done long distance either but just to prove you can’t do this we’ll race one time around the track, just you and me.” Well, needless to say it wasn’t much of a race.  Jeff would trot sometimes, other moments he’d run backwards smiling at Tinker as he struggled to make it round the track while the rest of the team hooted and taunted his every step.  Tinker finished the lap well behind Jeff, red faced and out of breath.  When he finally could speak, he looked directly at his smiling mocker and said, “At the end of the season we’ll race again, and I will beat you!” Years later when I was talking to Jeff about this moment he told me he didn’t put a lot of stock in Tinker’s challenge, then he said, “But I don’t think I had ever seen such determination in anyone’s face as was Tinker’s.”  And determination was right; call it having something to prove, maybe tired of the way he was always treated, Tinker was not about to give up his quest to be a runner.  One late afternoon as I was leaving the school, I noticed a lone soul out on the track chugging along–Tinker.  A teacher who was also one of the track coaches told me, “He doesn’t offer much but he’s always the first out to practice and the last to leave.”  When it came to meets, Tink very seldom got a chance to compete and if he did it was in a race that didn’t mean anything, and of course he would always finish last.  No matter how little chances he got to run, no matter how little attention the coaches and the rest of the team paid to him, and no matter still how much ribbing he would get from people thinking he was foolish to even try; he would not quit or give up.

Jeff who felt the same way as everyone else related to me the day he saw Tinker in a different light.  Some guys were working Tinker over verbally pretty hard after school as he made his way to track practice.  “Man, you are stupid to keep going out there when you stink so badly at running, why don’t you just quit?”  “For the first time ever I saw Tinker get angry,” Jeff told me.  “Tinker reeled around and looked at those guys and yelled I go out there because that’s my team and they need me.”  Everyone present started laughing until Tinker followed up, “All you guys do is run me down, but I’ve never seen any of you try out for anything, so who’s really the loser?”  It took a lot to get Tinker angry enough to say anything out of turn to someone and Jeff knew this.  Things were starting to look ugly until Jeff and another top athlete walked up.  Jeff put his hand on Tinker’s shoulder and said, “Tink, what are you doing messing around here, we got to get to practice, coach is counting on us tonight.”  Down the hall walked two star athletes, and between them, a short roly-poly boy everyone called Tinker, grinning ear to ear. Something else happened also, Tink always worked hard at every practice, but now there was an improvement in his running that could be seen.  He had dropped about 30 lbs during the season, but it didn’t seem to make a big difference.  But after Jeff came to his rescue, things changed and Tinker was improving.  Coaches decided to put him in as the second runner for the team in the 1600 meter toward the end of the season against a small school that they competed against.  The gun sounded and the two top runners from each team took off like the wind; Tinker and his competitor followed at a slower but steady pace.  The four laps went quickly and competitively as the first runners finish one, two with our school taking the top spot, but now there was another race going on, the battle for third place and the points that would go to which ever school took it.  Tinker and his combatant were pacing each other into the last lap when something happened.  People starting yelling, “Come on Tinker, you can do it!”  As he rounded each corner more people were yelling for him, “Go Tinker Go!”  Coming out of the back stretch, Tink was met by a sight he had never seen before, it was his team lined up along the track yelling and screaming encouragement, even a couple of the coaches were out there, and leading the cheering section, Jeff running stride for stride in the grass; “You can do this Tinker, don’t let up buddy!”

No where in the sports world or on any sports reel will you find evidence or even a mention of a meaningless, to most, of a race between two sub-par distance runners battling for 3^rd place for a single point at a high-school track meet.  But in a small Indiana community in the early evening hours of a warm spring day there was an explosion of cheers and elations when the announcer called out, “Third place finish in the 1600, goes to TINKER!!!!”

Encouragement is awesome. It (can) actually change the course of another person’s day, week, or life. Chuck Swindoll

Tinker had a lot going against him as an athlete; he was short, heavy and looked at as not being too bright.  But he didn’t buy into it; he just knew there was something he could offer to the team effort.  When it became apparent to others and they got on board and encouraged him; he did just that, he made a difference.  Not just in running a race but in his attitude, fortitude, and belief he was going to give his best no matter what it meant or looked like.  That inner strength made an impression on a number of people, the biggest of whom was a star athlete named Jeff.

To get to my point as a Christian, isn’t that what each of us who refer to ourselves by that name should be doing everyday?  Years ago I realized I wasn’t called to do great things in the name of my Lord and Savior as the world looks at accomplishments.  But what I have to give, what talents I possess how ever small they may be, is exactly what God is looking for from all of us–to use them for His glory in showing that we are a part of something bigger, better–an awesome team, an awesome Family in Christ.

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

Well, thanks for tagging along as I told of another Traveler of the Rock Road.  What? What about the race between Tinker and Jeff? Well it happened and Jeff who now lives in Pennsylvania is a VP with a corporation.  There still to this day he talks about that moment when a short roly-poly wavy haired, freckled face kid called Tinker with a grin that went ear to ear taught him so much about perseverance, team effort, and life, raced him around the school track and (legitimately!) beat him by a good 15 meters! Awesome!!!

• I think we all can agree that generally speaking there is no earthly bond as close as what a mother has for her child.  We can give great credit to fathers, siblings, spouses, and even friendships; they prove to be strong and important in our lives for certain.  But a mother, well she’s the one who first realizes that you’re in her, then she gently and protectively carries you for nine months.  She’s the one who holds, caresses and nurses you into life outside the womb.  She’s the one who dresses, feeds cares and prepares you for life in the outside world.  And she’s the one who because of this great bond ves you unconditionally her entire life.  Again, I don’t downplay the role of others, especially dads in nurturing a child, but the role that the mother plays truly stands alone.

  I suppose a portion of the reason I say and believe that is the part my own mother played in my life, having to be both mom and dad to me.  I saw first hand the hard work and sacrifices this woman made so that I might have it better than she did during her growing up days.  I may not have always shown it, but I did realize all she did for me and loved her for it deeply. One of the roles a mother takes on I didn’t mention is being your first playmate and making you laugh.  My mom was particularly good at this and I enjoyed her funny ways.  But I guess it was somewhere around my teen years I realized that mom was different from other women her age.  As I grew and changed, I noticed she didn’t; she seemed to stay in a more juvenile state than I did.  She could still be funny, but sometimes it was a little embarrassing how she carried on.  I later learned mom was different from others her age; you see she suffered from three infirmities.  The first and most obvious was a serious hearing loss that made her have to wear two hearing aids all her life.  The second was emotional issues.  This dear lady never fully experienced the bond I described since her own mother suffered and passed away from cancer at an early age.  After that her dad, who never had a close relationship with her sent mom to live with her aunt and uncle, a situation that offered sanctuary, but little in the way of love and kindness that a young girl desperately needed.  The third and hardest frailty to talk about was mental stability.  Mom could get along fairly well in the world, but she held the mind of a 12 year old, again a state that I sadly confess brought embarrassment to me back when I was young.  Well, after saying all that I’m going to wrap this section up by saying mom never got any better, but I did.  I learned to accept her as she was and who she was, the woman who gave life and much more, my mom.  I wouldn’t have traded her for anyone else in the world!  You see all of this was just to give you a feel for who I’m talking about today.  The main emphasis in this story was a promise, one of the only things she ever asked of me in life; and something that I could not do.

  The first time mom ever spoke to me of this “Promise” was when our neighbor became old, feeble and nearly blind and not having any family sold her home and moved into the local nursing care facility.  Not long after she got settled in, we went to visit only to find her sad and crying, she wanted to go home.  When mom and I left she turned to me and in a stern voice said, “Promise me you’ll never put me in a place like that!!”  “Yeah Ma, I promise, no nursing home.”  I didn’t care much for the place either so I figured that was something easy that was being asked.  When mom retired, she left Ohio and moved to Indiana to be close to me and my family.  She wanted her own place so we found a small house within a couple miles of us. Right away I realized something had changed with mom and not for the better.  She was demanding over little matters and would become agitated easily.  We weren’t sure what, but something was going on; it would be years before mom was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, a disorder that affects personality, behavior and language.  Time went on and mom became slowly worse.  She realized something was going on and often felt remorse for her actions.  But then the words, the “Promise” would have to be reinstated. “You promise me you’ll never put me in a nursing home!”  “Don’t worry mom, you have my word, I promise.”

  Several more years passed and mom’s physical and mental health continued to decline. Her neighbors would call us if she did something careless that could cause her harm.  The decision was made that she would have to move in with my Lady and me.  We knew this wouldn’t be easy, but what options did we have; I made a “Promise” I would not put her in a nursing home.  During the three years mom lived with us, her condition worsened. She would fall regularly; she would go outside and wander off from the house.  Thank goodness the neighbors got to know her and would call if they saw her making a getaway.  We replaced our gas stove with an electric one because somehow she knocked out all the pilots and filled the house with gas.  The worst came when her illness robbed mom of the little hearing that she had left.  If I needed to tell her something, I had to type it out in large font so she could read it; the worst message I had to give her came October of 2007. No matter how much Cathy and I tried, we were not equipped to give mom the kind of care she needed, to keep her safe.  I don’t suppose I slept more than a few hours over the next three days before that moment she and I sat down at the computer and I explained to her she was getting worse, she was in danger of hurting herself badly, Cathy and I were doing the best we could but it just wasn’t enough; finally typing, “I’m sorry.  I love you dearly and I want the best for you so you’re going to have to go to the nursing home.”  Her recoil on seeing those words was as if I had just shot her; there was silence at first, but then the words came. “You lied, you’ve always lied, I trusted and you “Promised” me you’d never do this.  You just want to get me out of your hair and you don’t love me, and I don’t love you!”  Now I know this woman better than anyone on the face of the earth, and the venomous words she spewed at me, well she didn’t mean.  The day before we checked her in at the facility she apologized and told me she loved me.  I knew all that, but her words kept coming back to me, not because she believed them, but because I did.  Never in my life did I feel like such a failure as when I had to break the “Promise.” What did I do wrong?  What could I have done more?  I know she can forgive me, but can I forgive myself? “God, did I let you down as bad as I let her down?” The answer would come two weeks later when they had to rush my mother to the hospital. Mom had a hemorrhage that was causing internal bleeding.  It was in a region that if they operated it would surely have taken her life in the weakened condition she was in.  The best place for her was back at the nursing home where they could monitor and keep her comfortable until the end, seven months later.

  Romans 8:28 tell us, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

  Gotta get to my point before I get too long winded and my eyes are quite blurry remembering this moment.  That point, Friends and Neighbors, is that if you’re going to call yourself a Christian, if you’re going to say I trust the One I call Lord; then you are going to have to realize that God has a purpose in all He does and allows.  Just as the verse says, for the “Good” of those who love Him.

  Ma lived into her 80s, most of those years she dealt with some sort of infirmity or disappointment.  But the one place she found no disappointment, no sadness or setback was in her Lord.  My thoughts, God knew that and the time came when He wanted her to have the best care she could get, right before He made her whole in Him.  My “Promise” was nice and heartfelt, but I came to realize it wasn’t in the plan, for His “PROMISE!”

  On mom’s last day on earth she spent most if it in a light coma.  When she came out of it for several hours she found me by her bedside, and she smiled broadly seeing the little boy she raised and loved.  During that time we held hands, watched Andy Griffith on TV, and laughed.  As I said she was entirely deaf by this point, but I believe she could hear every word I was saying, kind of a gift from the Lord for me at the end, but that’s another story.  After a while my beloved mother laid her head back on the pillow and fell asleep.  The next time she woke it was to a healthy body that could run and hear!  And I’m guessing she ran straight into the arms of her Savior who was saying these words to her, “Well done good and faithful servant, welcome home.”  We’re not “promised” in this life everything will be great, but in Christ there is a “promise” that He will always be with us in this life, and has prepared a better one yet to come.  Like mom, as a Traveler of Rock Road, that’s one “Promise” I can live with, eternally!  Awesome!!

“A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.” C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

As I’ve stated in earlier writings, I pretty much lost interest in school by my sophomore year, going through the motions mostly of attending classes (sometimes) just to get it over with and have it behind me.  I associated with few from school having found a group that suited my life better, most being older and musicians, of course.  However, I did work a part-time job that employed mostly teenagers so I guess that was my connection to still being an adolescent. This group of kids was nice and even enjoyable to be around.  We would cut up a lot at work and everyone got along well.  Maybe what drew me to the crowd I suppose was they all were a lot like me, each had their own little personality quirk that seemed to make them a type of outcast from the typical teenage camaraderie that develops in high school.  Some were teased or bullied nearly everyday they stepped into a classroom; but here everyone was the same and ones who usually kept their guard on high alert could relax and just be who they were.  The job dealt with customer service so it was inevitable that occasionally one of my coworkers’ tormenters would come in. This would make an uneasy situation; here they put up with someone’s guff all day only to have them show up at one of the few places my friends found refuge.  When this happened, we developed a code to let one of the other workers know a “bogey” had come in and they were needed to take their order so the other could just avoid them.  It all seemed to work out well and occasionally we’d go out after work in a group just to hang out.  I didn’t go often generally because I had something else going on, but when I did the time spent was enjoyable.  I know they had some personality issues, but they were a lot a fun to be with.  They were different from so many others in school; they didn’t look down on others or put on any airs.  At least that’s how I saw them until one day with the arrival of a new employee.

Vicky was an attractive girl with a radiant smile, highly intelligent and a bubbly personality.  I had known her in grade school days but hadn’t seen her in years and really didn’t have an opinion about her.  Two girls that worked with me however, took issue with her being there right from the start.  “Oh great, we got one them here now!  She hangs with that uppity group from school who always look down on others; we sure don’t need her here!”  Since these two felt so strongly about Vicky everyone else followed suit, (Yours truly also I confess).  If we gave her a hard enough time maybe she would see what the rest went through and take the hint and go back to her snooty friends.  So the fix was in, if Vicky asked a question she would be given the wrong information or none at all.  If she made a mistake while learning the job, she would be chewed big time especially by the two who instigated the foul treatment toward her.  She made attempts to get along, but no was returning the niceness.  I didn’t go out of the way to treat her bad, but because everyone felt so strongly about her I didn’t offer any words of help or encouragement either.  She remembered me from our childhood and tried to use that as a way to draw me in as an ally, but I just wouldn’t have it.  “Sure Vicky,” I thought, “You need me to be your friend here because no one likes you, but I you wouldn’t speak one friendly word to me outside of here; no thanks, you’re on your own.”  Time went on and sometimes the remarks to Vicky could be quite rude, and I started to get just a little offended for her, but still I said nothing.  After all, she had it coming for how she treated others, right?

We had a storage room at work where supplies were kept and each of us took turns bringing things up front to be used.  “John,” the shift supervisor said one day; “Go see what happened to Vicky, I sent her for goods 10 minutes ago and she hasn’t returned yet.”  The door to the storage room was open but the lights were off.  Giving them a flick on I headed in to retrieve what was needed out front, until I heard a small shaky voice. “John, do you have a tissue?”  It was Vicky sitting on a box in the corner and she had been crying quite hard I could tell.  “Vicky, what’s wrong?” I asked.  “I can’t do anything right,” she responded.  “All I do is make people here angry, I don’t understand what most of you are doing and I feel stupid.  I need this job to help mom buy a car, but it’s not working out.”  It was then I found that Vicky was raised by a single mother just as I was and they had to struggle to watch every dime they spent.  How’s that for a sudden wake up call to who this girl actually was!  “I don’t understand what I was supposed to get and I started crying, but didn’t want anyone to see me this way.  If you could please get me a tissue I’d like to wipe my face, then I’m going to leave.”  “Okay hotshot,” I thought. “You got what you wanted, Vicky got a taste of her own medicine, happy now?!!”  I busted open a carton of napkins and handed her several.  When she cleaned up, I said “Now here are the things you need to take up front, go ahead and I’ll be right behind you.”  When we reentered the front area of the store I didn’t give anyone a chance to say a word, I went right to explaining how things worked and what she was to do.  Got a lot of quick looks, but no words were spoken.  When our shift was complete, I called an impromptu meeting in the back room.  Everyone, I’d like you to meet Vicky.”  I got several questionable looks from people including Vicky when I started not knowing where I was going.  “We’ve known each other since we were little kids; she’s bright, witty, funny, a hard worker and most of all,” and I paused there for a good moment; “She’s my friend, and we’re going to do everything possible to make her a part of the team.”  I don’t know, but my little speech seemed to be an icebreaker, a chance for some of the others to start over also.  Perhaps they saw something in themselves like I did that they didn’t like and just wanted to stop the hostility.  Vicky did become a part of the team and more a friend to everyone there who wanted to be hers.  Yes, she ran with a higher group of people (for lack of a better term here), but that didn’t mean she felt she was better than the rest of us.  She even went out a few times in our little group and had a wonderful time as did everyone!

Alright gang, let’s get right to it, some of you, I’m sure, are saying, “Okay Miller, so Vicky was a nice girl even though she hung with the snootys, but she’s probably the exception to the rule, you know most of those social types thought they were better than everyone else.”  Well, quite frankly, no I don’t know that either.  I can see how someone acts in a group, but that doesn’t necessarily define who they are anymore than it does you or me for we all have been guilty of doing the same thing to a certain degree;  case in point, today’s story.  We can all look at others and see something that is wrong, but the real questions comes down to then what is it that you’re doing so right?  Scenarios like Vicky’s taught me a lot about who I am and how I was just as judgmental as the ones I criticized.  When I chose to call myself a Christian, my eyes were really opened up to everyone around me.  It doesn’t matter what I thought of them they were loved just as much by the Father as I am.  This seems to be very important to God for it’s a key topic in His Word.  “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ sake has forgiven you” (Ephesians 4:32).  That’s just one of many all through the New Testament, not reacting to someone in the same manner they reacted to you, but as God would want you to react, with love, patience, mercy; the same attributes He gives us in Christ.

Vicky, myself and a number of others “Travelers of the Rock Road” learned a lot that year who we were to ourselves and to each other; it showed us we weren’t really that different, we just needed to take the time to get to truly know each other.  For me it was not to look down on anyone, I needed to look straight ahead to see a person, a friend; and I need to look up to see my Lord, my Teacher of life, my Savior.  To think what I might have missed out on; lets face it, everyone of you, no matter who you are, are just plain awesome!  Not because I say it, but my Lord does; and if you’re okay with Him, you’re okay with this man!

Thanks for reading!!!
 

When we talk about home, we all have ideas and visions that are similar for the most part.  If we go to the dictionary the 1^st three definitions pretty much line the way we all think.

home [ hōm ]   

residence: the place where a person, family, or household lives

family group: a family or any other group that lives together

birthplace: the place where somebody was born or raised or feels that he or she “belongs.”

I’ve written in the past of my childhood home in Fremont, Ohio, a house that used to be made up of three apartments that my family converted into a one dwelling unit for us to live.  Cathy, my Lady, on the other hand lived in a small home on the outskirts of town; two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, bath and basement.  Small in size but enough room to accommodate the Lenhart family of three.  This was the house that Cathy’s parents brought her home to after adopting her from an orphanage in a nearby community, the one and only place she knew as home in her growing up days.  In my teen years I lived several different places after moving from the original house, mom moved into a small trailer after I left for Indiana.  When we returned to Fremont for visits it lined out like this; go see mom on my side of the family, and go “home” on Cathy’s side.  I would be the one to go out and visit on those trips.  For Cathy, she was content just to sit at her parent’s house, just to enjoy being home.  As the years went on and children came along, it started to get crowded in the little house on Siler St. Fremont.  But that didn’t matter or was even looked at with concern.  We made beds anywhere we could and ate off of TV trays, never once was there a complaint about anything.  The kids learned early on when we made this trip it meant mom was home, and that meant joy and happiness for all.

The 90s brought sadness to the family, especially Cathy; her dad passed away from cancer in 90, and then her mom followed four years later stricken by the same disease.  As would be in any family this tragedy brought great sadness to all of us, especially to my Lady that would linger for time to come; little did we realize that the hardest day was yet to come.  The time came when we had to clean out the house and get it ready for sale. Since we lived so far away it wasn’t feasible to even consider keeping this wonderful memory maker.  For being a small house, Cathy’s parents had learned how to use every available space in the place. We worked day and night packing a large truck we drove back to Indiana.  The rest, (and there was a Whole Lot More!), we sold at a open door, walk in and make us an offer garage sale.  Then there were many things we gave to friends, family and organizations that helped the needy.  The house was finally empty, swept out, carpets shampooed and everything deemed trash removed from the property. The realtor came, an asking price was agreed on and the for sale sign placed in the front yard.  The only thing left was wait to see who might be interested.  We knew it wasn’t going to be easy selling the place, the smallness of the house would work as a detriment. We had to trust God would send the right person that saw this as the perfect place to live, just like Cathy and her parents did; that person would arrive two months later.

The atmosphere was light but little somber the day we met at the bank to finalize the sale. Present was Cathy, myself, the realtor, the buyer, a 3^rd party witness for document signing and the banker.  The whole transaction was done in short, order but when the papers were signed tears flowed.  A great and important period of Cathy’s life had now come to an end.  Even though it was the right thing to do, it was also one of the hardest things she would do in her life; there would be no going “home” in Fremont ever again.  If the story ended there it would a pretty sad one, but there were more tears than just Cathy’s, happy tears as a matter of fact.  As I stated one of the things we prayed was God would bring the right person or persons to buy the house and that it would be as special a place for them as it had for my Lady, for this dear soul sitting across the table from us that’s exactly what it was. Her situation was one where she was living with someone else and for whatever reason it was time for her to move on, to get out on her own from what I perceived to be her 1^st time ever.  As Cathy had wept across from her, she now cried for another reason; she now had that place to call hers, she would be soon going “Home!”

The exchange of the ownership was not only made with a signature on legal papers, it was made with a hug and a smile through soggy eyes.

Since 1983 a little house in a small community of Indiana has been the “home” of the Miller Clan.  During those 30 years, the house has gone through some changes, a lot of wear and tear and a place that our children have built their memories of what home is. Matter of fact there have been many that have a connection, an affection for the small abode on Vandeveer St.  It’s not a mansion, it would never make the cover of some prestigious magazine that features incredible houses of the world.  Just like Cathy’s home in Ohio, it’s a simple structure made for the purpose of providing adequate shelter from the elements.  But time, energy, love and people took those structures, those houses and made them into the greatest home that anyone could be blessed with. 

Billy Graham once said “Nothing can bring a real sense of security into the home except true love.”  In the case of the Lenhart and Miller homes, that exactly was the secret of what made them what they were.  A place where many activities occurred, many good and others not so, but still the essence of what was there remained intact, “home” the place you knew you were loved and welcomed no matter what.  People, yes, but also hearts dedicated to following a type of love that God offers to all of His family and is the catalyst and glue that made these houses home.

As we continue our journey “Traveling on the Rock Road,” we realize they’ll be a day when our kids will have the responsibility of clearing out the little house on Vandeveer St. that they’ve known as “home.” (Just for fun I may hide all the guitars ahead of time just to be ornery!)  When that comes I’m sure they’ll have memories, they’ll have a little sadness just like their mother did, because they won’t be taking care of the house, they’ll be the preparing the place they called “home” for someone new to call “Home.”

As for my Lady and I, well we’ll have gone, as our parents before us, to our new “Home,” our eternal “HOME!”  It’s ready for us to move into as I write, it’s been promised to me because I’m seen as family by the One who loves me most, who waits with loving anticipation for us to come “Home.” And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  John 14:3

For some, this is no more than a story.  For you who hold this belief, I pray you’ll take a closer look, you may discover it’s a whole lot more.  For us and many many more, it’s not a tale, it’s a house built with the love of a Father, a Savior, “It’s Called Home.”