Traveling the Rock Road

I think I might have been around 15 when the prettiest little gal these eyes had ever looked upon became my girlfriend.  Hair like dark silk, a face like a princess and a voice so soft and gentle it almost sounded like a melody when she spoke.  I had met the girl of my dreams and just knew this was going to be a long wonderful relationship.  Well, in the scheme of life I suppose two weeks could be looked on as long, but it certainly took me by surprise not to mention made my head hurt both literally and figuratively.

While over visiting my new sweetie, sitting on the couch in the basement watching TV and holding hands, I waited until the opportune time presented itself and reached over to give her a kiss.  Suddenly there was this shrill voice coming from a corner in the basement, “I’m Tell Mom, I’m telling Mom!”  Enter the obnoxious little brother who had been hiding, spying on us and waiting for the best moment to let his presence be known.  My girlfriend bolted off the couch and ran over to grab him, but he was too fast and got away.  Now my pretty princess was sobbing her eyes out knowing if he told she would be in trouble.  “You’d better go,” she told me, “I’ll see if I can fix things before he runs his mouth, I’ll see you at school.”  On the way home I was feeling so bad for my girl because she was sad, while at the same time angry at the little twerp who caused all the problems, just give me a chance and I would see that he never caused problems again!!  At school she told me everything was okay, “I bribed him by doing all his chores so he wouldn’t say anything.  Come over this Saturday, but we’ll have to be a lot more careful.”  Oh, I would be there Saturday, but with the intentions of us never to be bothered by this brat again.  Once again we were in the basement, but this time we didn’t even hold hands. When the coast finally looked clear, she moved over and let me put my arm around her; that’s when we heard that evil penetrating voice once more, “I’m telling mom!”  This time I was the one jumping from the couch after the bratty brother and caught him before he made it up the steps.  With one hand grabbing him by the front of the shirt and the other on his face squeezing his cheeks, I began in my harshest voice to let him know what would happen if he opened his mouth, only I didn’t get the chance.  I suddenly felt like I was in a karate move and a female Bruce Lee was unloading on me with kicks and punches from every direction. “You let go of my brother, don’t you ever put your hands on him like that!  Just get out; I don’t want to see you again!!”  What the heck just happened?!!  Here I thought I was doing the right thing and I come away with bruises on my shins, a little less hair to the back of my head and my right ear nearly torn off, Whoa!! Girls, who can figure them out?  It would be some 25 years later before I realized it had nothing to do with being a girl, it was something much deeper.

I was driving home one summer evening back in the late 90s.  By this point in life I was now the father of three teenagers, two boys and a girl with the daughter being the oldest. With my Lady and I being only children we never experienced or knew about the adverse conditions that could arise from time to time with youngin’s being raised up under the same roof.  It got loud at times, but I figured as long as there wasn’t bloodshed they’d grow out of this phase; least that was the hope and prayer.  Truthfully, I yearned to see some evidence that they truly loved each other they way their mother and I hoped they would, that evidence was about to play out in a supermarket parking lot.  Recognizing a couple of the kids standing in the lot as my own and having a feeling there was trouble about to start, I circled around and came up the back side of the store.  Something told me just to sit, and watch.  My son and a couple of his friends had been walking across the parking lot when a car full of older teens pulled up beside them with the idea of beating the tar out of them.  Don’t you just love the way bullies think?  They’re always bravest when in a group and picking on ones smaller and weaker!  (Okay, I’m done venting.)  Before any action could play out our “hero” for that moment came walking out of the store, a yell to get everyone’s attention and it was Jane Dandy to the rescue Jack!!!

Now get a mental picture of this, okay; you have two groups of boys facing each other with a with a really hacked off gal standing in the middle exchanging words with one of the biggest letting him know “Your mama will have to have you DNA tested to prove you’re her son by the time I get done with you if you lay a hand on my brother!”  The standoff lasted a few more minutes and the bullies chose the better side of valor (and embarrassment) by jumping back in their car and leaving.  One word came to me that evening; family.

In both cases I was being shown that in a true loving family relationship there can be spats, disagreements, and even trouble at times, but that’s not to be taken as a lack of love.  Both girls taught me that no matter what, family was first and foremost.  It didn’t matter what the past was, it didn’t matter what problems they had, what did matter was the true love they possessed, not in words, but in deed for each other; like I said Family.

These have been two good memories about two loving sisters (even if one gave me a beating I just quit hurting from about a week ago!) and I could quit here with the old adage that blood is thicker than water.  But once again I was shown something more, I was shown Christ.  The number one attraction to me about Christianity was a God that no matter what I did, He would never stop loving me; that when there was no place to turn, He would always be there for me.  He tells me that clearly, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” And then there’s one of my favorites; “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Family

As you Travel along the Rock Road, remember who God blessed you with as family be it genetic, spiritual, or relational like close, dear friends.  They’re there for a reason, they’re a part of you to cherish, protect and love with all your heart.  As for you young men courting your young lady, beware of the little brother, and for Pete’s sake don’t touch him!  Bribe the little bugger; you’ll live a more painless life!

Last week I told of the accident our youngest son had been in and what the end result was, which his mother and I still rejoice and praise the lord for; but that wasn’t the end of the story.  There was more that had to be done, one more lesson that had to be taught. Justin and his friends had been drinking on the night of the accident and being 19 it was considered underage drinking in the state of Indiana, and so he would have to appear in court and answer to the charge.  We talked about what he wanted to do and his answer was, “I just want to get this all behind me so I’m to plead guilty and accept whatever the consequences are.”  Another one of those moments that makes you proud to be a parent.

On the day of the court hearing Justin and 2 of the others involved in the accident went together and I went along for moral support. The courtroom was packed with law offenders, most alcohol related and many in the same age bracket as the kids with me. The judge, an elderly man, was mild mannered in his approach while at the same time did not put up with any nonsense in his court. Two young men were talking when the judge called one by name.  The look of horror was written all over his, as if to say, “Oh boy, I’m in big trouble now!”  The judge calmly instructed him to take a seat in a far corner and the young man was up moving quickly.

Now it was time to get down to business; he began calling one name after the other, having people  stand in front of him, reading the charges and asking them if they would like to make a plea.  Some pled not guilty and were instructed that they would be contacted at a later date on when trial would be.  Most though pled guilty and the judge handed down a verdict as to what their punishment would me.  The majority of the judgments weren’t that bad with many getting suspended sentences.  I could see this was putting my kids more at ease; that is until they stood before him and entered the guilty plea.  “Since you have pled guilty to the charge of underage drinking, I hereby sentence you to 30 days in the county jail.”  I thought they may have to call the EMTs in, especially for the biggest guy in our group who looked like he was about to hit the floor! After the judge let it sink in for a moment he then followed up, “But I’m going to suspend the jail time and sentence you to two weekends of community service.”  There was a giant sigh of relief, including yours truly, with the final verdict and we headed home each one of the kids knowing they had dodged a giant bullet, but still there was one more lesson to be learned.

The 1^st Saturday morning came and Justin headed over to the high-school where he was supposed to report for community service. A small area of trees and brush was near there and it was going to be his job, along with the others, to clean it out.  Several hours passed and I decided to take a ride over to where they were working and see how it was going. Approaching the site, I could see Justin, his friends and some of the other young people from court busying themselves with hoes, rakes and shovels, some clearing out debris, while others were laying and spreading mulch.  I waved to my son and the crew and kept driving, but then, I saw him.  Amongst all these young offenders was an older man that I couldn’t get a good look at.  He was wearing a flannel shirt, bib overalls and a large straw hat that hid most of his features, but it was still obvious he was much older than the rest. But as a worker age certainly wasn’t a factor, he was going stride for stride with the rest of the “jail birds” out there.  “Now what could this old fella have done?” I thought. “Probably just a town drunk working off his latest altercation with the law,” I surmised.

WRONG!!

When our Justin got home that afternoon, he was worn out.  He and the others had put in a hard day of work.  After a meal and some rest time, we made small talk about what he did that day, but one question was really on my mind.  “Boo (My son’s nickname), the older man in the bibs working with you today, who is he and what did he do to earn community service?”  My son gave a small chuckle and answered, “He didn’t do anything, he wanted to be there with us, Dad.  That was the judge.”  “What?!!”  I responded.

“Yeah, he came the same time the rest of did, took a roll call and then said, “Let’s get busy.”  He kept us all moving, taught us a lot about landscaping and probably outworked half the crew.  He was fun also, something about having him there with us, working just as hard as we were made it seem less like punishment and more like a project we were all in together.”  One word came to mind, and I could say it foreword and backward both–WOW!  If ever I had seen a working model of God’s grace and mercy, it was in this man.

Psalm 103:8-14 reads, “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.  He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.   As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.”

This judge’s only duty was to hear what the crime (sin) was and to hand down judgment, nothing more.  But he showed he cared for each of these criminals (sinners) by working with them and guiding them along the way to the fulfillment of their debt; redemption.

Phil Yancey, one of my favorite writers has a quote that kind of reminds me of this judge, and redeemer.  “I have come to know a God who has a soft spot for rebels, who recruits people like the adulterer David, the whiner Jeremiah, the traitor Peter, and the human-rights abuser Saul of Tarsus.  I have come to know a God whose Son made prodigals the heroes of his stories and the trophies of his ministry.”

On the final day of community service, the crew stopped at lunch to eat the food the judge brought in for them.  Then he gave them a lecture on life, on why it’s important to do right and live in such a way that others and especially they could see good in them. After that he released everyone from their duties and told them he hoped to see them again, but as their friend, not as their judge.  A preacher friend of mine called Frank puts what was done here like this; “Grace, receiving what we don’t deserve, Mercy, not receiving what we do deserve.”

As we Travel the Rock Road, each and every one of us, there will be times when we fall or even fail to live up to what we know is right.  At times like those we have to decide what we want to do or for that matter if we want help to recover.  There’s One who has the ability to be a judge at your trial, but the more I read about Him the more I realize He prefers to be a Friend, a Helper, a Redeemer; “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  For the Gray One here, well I think I’ll choose Plan B!

Thanks for reading this week!!!

Boom!  Boom!  Boom!  What is that?  Is someone breaking into the house with a battering ram or what?!!  The time was well past midnight, I had worked a ton of hours this week and all I wanted was a solid night’s sleep.  Cathy and I had gone to bed, but didn’t have the phone in the bedroom with us so as not to be disturbed.  Now someone was beating on the front door so hard and long I thought they were going to smash it in.  Opening it I found the neighbor lady on the other side with a look of terror plastered across her face.  I didn’t even get a chance to ask what was wrong as she was blurting it out as I opened the door.  “John the hospital called me because they couldn’t raise you and someone knew we lived next door; there’s been an accident, a bad one, Justin was involved, but I don’t know if he’s okay or not.”  Now I’m wide awake and yelling to Cathy what was going on.  We were both dressed in minutes and heading out the door and down the road to the hospital.

This was the second time in my life I was called out in the middle of the night because a loved one of mine was in a serious accident. The first, for those who didn’t read last week’s blog was for my Great Aunt Pearl who had a major hand in raising me.  The accident happened in my birth state of West Virginia where I drove most of the night and the next day to reach her, only to have her pass away one hour after arrival.  Depression set in on me that fateful day and stayed for a number of years.  Now, 19 years later, I was once again racing to a hospital because of a car accident, only this was one closer, not only in distance, but in relationship; this was my son.

There had been five teenagers in the car when the crash occurred, two in the front and three in backseat with Justin sitting in the middle with no seatbelt.  The boy driving had taken a curve too fast, went off the road smashed head on into a tree.  The impact was so violent it caused Justin to be catapulted out of the backseat, past the front and then crash through the windshield and on to the hood of the car.  The young man in the passenger’s front seat died instantly on impact.  At this point I knew our son was alive, but did not know how severe his injuries were.  My head was spinning and my stomach was tied in a knot so bad I thought I’d lose everything in it.  Once again I was crying out, “Please God, not this, not my baby boy!”  The pain was there, just like before.  The fear of the unknown was back, just like before.  But then, something happened, something real, something audible if only to me.  “Didn’t you dedicate him to me as a babe?  Did not he accept me as Savior years prior?  Do you once again not trust me with the one you love, with the one I love even more?”  Quietness came over me at that moment and whether or not anyone else believes it, I know, God was speaking to my heart.  Yes, as a baby my Lady and I dedicated him to the Lord saying we would do all in our power to raise him in the understanding that God was there to love him even more than we could.  Yes, at a young age while talking to his mother about God, she led him to salvation in Christ, something she did with all three of our children and she sees as one of the greatest rewards of motherhood.  Now there was another voice, “Either you believe in your God that He loves you or it’s nothing more than empty words, what’s it gonna be?”

Chuck Swindoll says 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.”  But I trust in you Oh Lord, I say, you are my God.  Psalm 31:14

My prayer was a short and simple one, “God, I’m scared.  I’m scared because I don’t want to lose my son.  But I know, no matter what happens, he belongs to you and I will trust in you no matter what, amen.”

I don’t think anything can tear the heart out of you like seeing your child laying motionless on a gurney covered in dirt, wounds and blood.  But then there’s also nothing that can drive you to your knees and want to scream out “thank you God!” like the sound of that child saying to you then, “Dad, I’m alright.”

The true meaning of “faith” came home to roost that night, not just in the fact that my son’s life was spared, but also that if it wasn’t he would still be okay, better than okay, he would be with the Lord waiting to see mom and me again, in celebration of life eternal.

As for the boy whose earthly life was cut short, well talk to his mother.  There’s still some pain there of course, we’re only human.  But she’ll be the first to say she will see her son again someday, because “She Knows” he is with the Lord.

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”  Corrie Ten Boom

Some form of tragedy will strike every man, woman and child sometime in life.  The question then becomes where you find rest, where do you find comfort.  Call me crazy, a fanatic or whatever, I’ve learned that for me there’s only one place I can go for that rest and comfort, only one place I can go for continued strength to face each day.

Psalm 103:17 – But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him and his righteousness with their children’s children.

Fellow Travelers of the Rock Road, I don’t always make a plea such as this; but if you have never trusted Christ as your Savior there’s no better time that now.  God loves you so much but He will not force His will, His gift upon you, the Choice is yours.  Revelation 3:20.

Thanks to all who took the time to read this, I’m sure for some it wasn’t easy to read these last two stories, no more than it was for me to write them.  But as always I’m not hear just to tell you a story, I do this because I believe God wants me to share these moments from my life so that they may possibly be a help to another who just may be going through the same thing and needing something more than they already have.

Who knows, maybe next week I may tell you how I chased this same child down the street when he was little because he made a can of pop explode all over me.

Never a dull moment, but I wouldn’t have it any other way!!!

Blessings to you and your loved ones!!

My Lady and I just returned from Florida, kind of taking a short break from the hard winter we’re getting here in the Midwest.  It’s always nice going to new places, seeing new things, but especially my favorite is meeting new people. You see no matter who you are or what you do there’s something that sets you apart from everyone else on the globe, there’s that one thing, be it large or small, that makes you special.  As a writer and an inquisitive, I always enjoy learning what it is that makes you who you are, makes you unique from others. On one of those trips in recent years, I met an individual who fit that bill to the tee.

We had just come from seeing an attraction in a small town nestled in the mountains of North Carolina and were now in a coffee shop getting something hot to drink. I just ordered a latte when a voice next to me piped in, “You can drink those sweet tasting things, huh? Not me, I gotta have my coffee, straight up and hot, only way I can drink it.” The voice belonged to a short elderly man who I could tell had some muscle in his day, but now had to use a walker to get around. “Gunny, you’re always trying to scare off my customers,” the gal behind the counter piped in with a smile on her face which told me they knew each other well. “Gunny huh, that means you were a gunnery sergeant in the Marines, right?” I asked. “Yep,” He answered, “Went in during the last of the Korean War and got out in ‘69 after spending two tours in Nam.” Because of family I have that served in the military and saw combat, I have the greatest respect for men and women like Gunny.

Now I could have stood and talked to this man for hours listening to I’m sure some quite remarkable tales of bravery and courage under the most adverse conditions, but there was something else about him that caught my eye and attention. We exchanged a few more words and then he walked off, leaning heavily on the walker to an area where there were several benches along a breezeway with about half dozen other men that he joined.  After a few minutes I walked over to where these men were seated, I wanted to give Gunny a small gift that I hand out to a lot of folks I meet and have a chance to learn something about. He accepted my gift graciously and then introduced me to his friends; they were all ex-military men who fought in wars ranging from Viet Nam all the way back to WW2 for one of them. “We meet here everyday at this spot, just to hang out and tell a few old war stories,” Gunney told me a slight chuckle. Another sitting there spoke up, “You mean which of us can tell the load of bull*&#, don’t ya?” That brought a good round of laughs from everyone. In the short time I spent with these Vets from wars gone by the more I learned that this was something special they had. An outsider like me could spend a few minutes jawing with them, but I wasn’t welcome to join them. That’s not to say they were rude or anything, but rather they were protective of what they had, what they shared. There was a television series a while back called “Band of Brothers” based on a unit of soldiers that served together and the relationships that they built during hostile times. These men sitting here were not like that, they had not served together, and they hadn’t even all fought in the same war, but somehow they found each other and found this place to call theirs, and in that they found strength, camaraderie, and I got the feeling most of all, security. Another person told me they were there everyday, sitting on their benches, sometimes not even talking for long periods, doing nothing more than being together. I walked away thinking this was no television show, no band of brothers, this was family–Awesome!!

As a musician I have something similar with others who took up this trade, especially that gang from the 70s. We speak the same language, share the same experiences and know each other’s heart for what we loved to do, make music. These few aging warriors I met on that Sunday afternoon shared something even more valuable; they were proud to say I served my country and would do it again in a New York minute. It’s this writer’s opinion that they drew life from that conviction and from each other. Okay, here’s the place I can generally get myself in trouble with someone for what I’m about to say next. So since I know, what the heck and here we go!

A.W. Tozer once said “One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organizations do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. The first requisite is life, always.”

For the ones of us who call ourselves Christians, we could take a lesson from Gunny and his companions about showing the world that together we have something special, something that has “Life!” Something that others should look at more often and say, ‘I wish I had a connection to others like that, a connection to ones who share the same ups and downs in life as I do and are there for me, no matter what.’ In all fairness, sure, there are ones who do well in bringing that message; but what would the world look like if we all did it? Not only showed we had something incredibly special in Christ Jesus, but that our group, our family, the family of God was open to any and all. I know to some this sounds a little over the top, a little radical, but you see, I can’t help it; I’ve had a Teacher and Book that I actually got these “radical” ideas from.

John 1:12 – But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.

Galatians 6:10 – So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.

1 Corinthians 12:26 – If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.

Nuff said!

Thanks, Gunny and thanks to your family of fellow freedom fighters, whether you realize it or not, you taught me a ton that Sunday afternoon, quite possibly one of the best sermons I’d heard, and seen in long time. Awesome!!!

I remember the place like it was yesterday; one large room that had actually been a sunroom when 1^st built.  Now with a drop ceiling, indoor/outdoor carpet, and cheap paneling put up to close it in, it was now our combination kitchen, dining and living room.  A small hallway led to our bath that was only big enough for one person at a time and that barely!  On the other side of the wall from the living quarters was the bedroom, which once had been a garage.  The place came furnished in Early American Garage Sale, the kitchen cabinets were hung by someone snapping a chalk line, nailing up 2x4s and hammering the backs of the cabinets to the wall. I guess the most memorable point was how cold it was in the winter, probably because in several places you could see through the wall to the outside; other than all that it made the perfect young married couple college abode.  More than one time while living there the thought came, ‘What in the world had I gotten us into?’

Living and growing up in our hometown of Fremont, Ohio, my Lady and I had no thoughts or intentions of leaving there and why should we?  Most of our friends and family were there; we had promising jobs and were one of the few newlywed couples to start life with a house instead of an apartment.  There’s also a well respected college and trade school located there which offered training in some great fields of occupation.  And besides that I had recently been approached to be the drummer of the hottest band in Toledo which was kind of a dream come true for this wanna-be rock and roll star!!

So why leave all that behind and start anew in a place where we hardly knew a soul, had to watch every dime we spent and had only each other to rely on?  Well, I felt God had spoken to my heart that this is where he wanted us to be, me studying at a Christian College while Cathy worked full time at a bank to keep the bills paid.  Oh yeah, and no more than 5 years and we were out of here. WRONG!!  Living in that converted screen room and garage that nearly froze us to death that 1^st winter should have been seen as an omen that I had made a big mistake, and the next 3 years didn’t get any better. School was a disaster and money got so tight we found ourselves for a time on food stamps and doing anything we could to survive, including selling my guitars and most of my drumset.  Finally leaving school, I took a job that I completely hated and found myself often wondering how everything got so wrong that I had felt was so right in the beginning.

Did I misunderstand God’s plan?  Were we not supposed to leave our childhood home and come to Indiana?  Well, the easy answer would be yes, it was a boneheaded thing to leave and give up the security we had once known.  But still, there was something in me that said this wasn’t a mistake, this is where God wants us to be.  As time went on I learned that to be true.

You see back home Cathy and I had two opposing forces that worked against any chances of a happy marriage.  The first and strongest was my friends and associations I had in the music world; that influence was a negative on trying to have a good relationship with my Lady.  The more I held on to those relationships the more it worked as a wedge between her and me.  I am totally convinced that had we stayed, our marriage wouldn’t have lasted long, which would have meant losing out on spending my life with the greatest person God could have paired me with, and also never knowing people who have blessed my life the most, my children and grandchildren.  The other force was Cathy’s family.  Now I know that sounds rather harsh like I didn’t like her family, but that not the case; they were wonderful people and I loved them dearly.  But no disrespect intended; there was this pressure for us to live our lives a certain way that was being dictated to us.  I realize they had the best intentions, like all parents, but had Cathy and I not gotten away from everyone and learned to depend, listen and grow together our chances would have been just as detrimental as the control my friends had on me.

It was a slow process for the two of us with many trials and setbacks over those early years, but time and God came to prove to us we were where we should be, doing what our Lord intended for us.  The opportunities for doing many things we never gave thought to have been tremendous in growing together, and in the Lord who had I not listened to His voice years ago we would have never experienced all the blessings that have come our way which out weigh the bad times tremendously.

J.I. Packer in his book Knowing God says this;

“Wait on the Lord” is a constant refrain in the Psalms, and it is a necessary word, for God often keeps us waiting.  He is not in such a hurry as we are, and it is not his way to give more light on the future than we need for action in the present, or to guide us more than one step at a time.  When in doubt, do nothing, but continue to wait on God.  When action is needed, light will come.”

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3: 5,6.

One of my favorite places to be is in my basement studio by myself.  In some ways it reminds me of that little apartment Cathy and I started in when we moved to Indiana.  It’s kind of roughed in here and there, but it has a personality all its own.  It’s a reminder of a time that I felt I had made a mistake in knowing God’s will for my life, when all it was, was just the beginning of Him saying, “Wait on me, I have a better plan than you realize.” I got no complaints!

By the way, I did finally get that degree I came out here for but not at the college I 1^st attended.  Boiler Up!!!

Blessings to you Friends and Family!!!

Some years back I was reading my hometown newspaper on line (one of the things I like about technology) when I came across the obituary of a gal, we’ll call Maggie, I knew back in my school days.  The moment I read her name two things occurred; first, I could see her as if she was in the room with me, and second I got the vision of a boy she wanted to give her affections to that we’ll call, hmm, what will we call him? Okay, I know, let’s just give a nickname; how bout “Jerk?!!”  Might as well call it as it was so you can get a good picture of this guy; but let’s get back to Maggie for now.

I said I could mentally see Maggie the moment my eyes fell on her name.  It wasn’t because of any striking beauty; to the contrary, truth was she wasn’t much of a looker. Tall, super skinny, knobby kneed, face full of zits and two of the biggest buckteeth you’d ever seen. Besides these physical traits old Mag had a habit of wearing makeup way to heavy giving her a slight clown-like appearance.  But hey, you overlook all that and you had yourself a really sweet girl there, intelligent, great personality, caring, compassionate to others with an easy smile bucktooth and all.  Only problem was, as all too often, people, boys in particular, didn’t get past the physical form to discover the positive traits. She could be the brunt of many jokes both behind her back and even to her face by a few of the ignorant types.

Getting back to my man “Jerk,” well he was okay to a certain level.  His looks were nothing that would get him a starring role in a Hollywood movie, kinda of average but most would say he was a pretty nice guy to get along with.  (I know that doesn’t seem the type of person that should be named Jerk, but stay with me.)  As a matter of fact he and Maggie shared a little of the same fate in his grade school days with kids at times making fun of him also, so you would think he could sympathize with her, but alas, it was not to be.  He did at times speak to Maggie when she spoke to him, but only if no one else was around.  Had he been caught spending any time associating with her, he knew the ribbing would be merciless.  Actually Jerk admitted years latter that he kind of liked her; something about her was special, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that or explore those  feelings more closely.  What made it harder is he knew she had a crush on him and would occasionally send him notes.  He’d always read them, but never respond and went to great lengths to avoid her.  The low point came when Jerk was at a teen function where Maggie was.  She came up to say hello to him just when one of his buddies made a rude remark to Mag causing everyone to laugh at her, including good old Jerk.  He remembered seeing the combination of hurt and anger as her eyes began to fill with tears, and she turned to walk away.  Now our man Jerk did have a heart, he knew it was wrong to treat her or anyone like that.  But he just couldn’t risk sending the wrong message; after all, she just wasn’t his type.  He wouldn’t have to worry a whole lot about it; Maggie didn’t speak to him again the rest of their school days. Even when he spoke first she would just keep her head down and walk away.  “Oh well, it’s for the best,” he thought.  Still, he’d get these feelings that there was something more to Maggie that was special; too bad she didn’t have the looks to go with it, right?

It was somewhere during Jerk’s senior year that he visited a daycare center with his girlfriend who applying for a job there.  Who should be already working there?  Dear sweet Maggie.  She didn’t see him as he stayed at a distance, but he watched her carefully playing with the little tykes.  She’d have three or four crawling all over her as she tickled them and they cried out in delightful laughter.  One fell and began to cry and Maggie was right there, holding, speaking softly and wearing a radiant smile until the hurt had passed. As he Jerk stood there the thought came to him, “Maggie’s gotten prettier, but she still looks the same–weird!”  Ten years latter their paths would cross again and it was apparent Maggie had forgiven Jerk by the way she now talked to him friendly, as he did her.  She was married with two kids and couldn’t be happier; even though her husband had contracted a debilitating disease where he could no longer work.  She supported them all with her job and a sideline of cleaning houses on the weekend.  I learned also she was a volunteer one day a week helping people with disabilities while at the same time working on a degree from the local college and making time for her children.  “Maggie, you’re just as awesome and beautiful as you were in school,” Jerk blurted out.  She didn’t answer, just said it was nice to see him and walked on.  “Why didn’t I see that before,” he thought after she left.  Then it was, “Oh yeah, you know why you arrogant idiot!”

I believe all of us at some time have been a Maggie the hidden beauty, or Jerk the ugly blind man.  I say hidden beauty because due to the exterior, the world does not exalt the glowing attractiveness that comes from the inside and it is quite often over looked.  I say ugly blind man because there are ones who don’t look far enough to see just how beautiful someone really is, how God has placed a heart of gold in an individual that makes them stunning beyond compare.  I know this individual all too well, who looked foremost on the outer beauty, not giving thought or credit that there was more to someone than looks; for you see, my friend Jerk, is yours truly.

As the scripture says in 1 Samuel 16:7, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  God knows who we are and what makes us beautiful, what makes us special, each and everyone of us.  And as my dear old mama uses to say “God don’t make junk!”  There many Maggies out there, more beautiful inside who are just as attractive as any model that struts her outer beauty on the runway.  Never be ashamed of who you are, for you are special, made special as God says you are.  Psalm 139:14 reads “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”  Never Never Never let anyone convince you different!

As for you Jerks (Okay, Johns), the same goes for you as it does Maggie.  Knowing that, shouldn’t that be all the reason you need to look closely at the way others are made also, and quite possibly discover a beauty others might miss; just sayin!!

When I read the obit for Maggie, which was rather long, I read testimonies of how she touched and blessed many, many people with her life of beauty and love.  Awesome!

Makes it nicer to be a Traveler of the Rock Road when you can do it with beautiful people, don’t you think?  I thought so!!

Back in 1970 a motion picture came out based on the true story of a young couple’s life, love and tragic ending.  The movie was Love Story and it took the country by storm, in every theater where it was playing you would have been hard pressed to find a dry eye in the house at the conclusion of the film.  I confess I would have to be counted as one of the weepy eyes who got caught up in the drama and sadness of the story.  To go a step further, my then girlfriend ended up seeing it 3 times.  (We worked at a drive-in so it made it easy to see it several times.)  We became so absorbed in the tale, I think we could have quoted almost every line, especially the most famous 8 word passage in the whole show; “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  Beautiful sentiment, huh? DON’T,   YOU,  BELIEVE IT!!!!!!!!  In our youthful innocence, we took those words to be prophetic as if sent by God himself; in truth they were more like a visit from the angel of death every time either of us uttered them.  But we began a “futile” attempt to live out our relationship in a way that that neither of us would ever have regrets for our words or actions to the other.  I use the “futile” because trying to be successful at such an endeavor would be like trying to fix the leak in the Titanic with silly putty!!!  Back in the day I was somewhat of a typical teenage boy, a whole lot of attitude and little tact on the words that came out of my mouth.  (Hmm, that sounds a little like me at times today.  Never mind, let’s not go there!)

But because of that immature attitude accompanied by an acidic tongue, attempts to live that perfect couple’s relationship would crash into the wall.  At moments like that tears would flow from my girlfriend’s eyes and the reality of my arrogance and ignorance would hit me in the face like a bucket of ice water.  Not wanting to see this, I would say “I’m sorry.”  Moist eyes and quivering lip would respond, “But love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  ARGHHH!!!!!  Talk about a Catch 22 situation–I do something wrong to a person I care for and then have no way of making it right!  The roles Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw portrayed on the big screen made me fall in love with them, but the anguish I suffered every time I spoke the “S” word made me want to take their heads and knock them together saying, “What the heck were you guys thinking making such a stupid movie anyway!”

I’m going to get to my main point early today because it’s a very important topic (plus I need all the practice I can get writing shorter.)

This really was a good movie for the times and had many good points relating to love between a couple, except in this man’s opinion it missed the mark on the main issue; love “DOES” mean saying you’re sorry!  I have met people in my life that adhere to the philosophy of not saying sorry for a number of different reasons: “People should understand that’s just the way I am.”  “People who have hurt me never said they’re sorry so why should I?”  Here’s one that’s been made popular from a TV show: “Saying you’re sorry is a sign a weakness.”  I’ll never be accused of being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but one thing I have learned is forgiveness, be it asking for or accepting is one of the strongest and meaningful things a person will ever do.  You see ‘sorry’ should not be looked at as just a word to get past rough road with someone; it should be seen and treated as an action that says I was wrong and I need to make it right.

In our early days together, Cathy and I had some real humdinger fights.  We were both stubborn, neither willing to give in and that in itself became the catalyst of what could have become another failed marriage for the times; but we both knew we had something special that was bigger than our separate egos, something worth treasuring and protecting.  We both had to learn (and I confess, mostly me) that when a wrong is committed, healing does not fully occur without forgiveness, either asked for, given or both.  19^th Century George Macdonald said it this way, “Forgiveness is the giving, and so the receiving, of life.”  Over the years of my life, I have found myself sitting between two people who started out madly in love with each other, only to end up facing the destruction of their relationship because the words “I’m sorry” were more than one or the other could say.  It saddens me to say that a few of the hardest ones to get through to on the importance of asking for forgiveness have been Christian couples.  One “interesting” individual wanted to argue that it didn’t matter if ever told his wife he’s sorry so long as she does what the Bible says and submit to him.  (Those are the ones that send me to the nearest wall to beat my head against it!)  Knowing where he got that, I asked, “Well how well do you submit to her?”  “What?  I’m not supposed to submit to her!”  Taking him farther down to the book and chapter where he developed his one-sided attitude we read the words, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” Ephesians 5:21.  It’s all part of those words “Two becoming One,” Friends and Family; if you have taken those words as truth in your marriage then whenever you hurt your loved one, you are inflicting the same injury on yourself.  Literally scores of couples I have heard say felt a huge weight was lifted from both of them when repentance and forgiveness have occurred. Often when my Lady and I have had a falling out, my work day stays in ruin until I pick up the phone, call her to say those words that mean Love, “I’m sorry.”  Then to know restoration has occurred with her response, “I forgive you.”  Here’s a good practice to get into with your husband or wife, pray together.  One statistic I’ve quoted before is that 50% of all marriages end in divorce.  But with couple committed to praying together on a regular basis (and that includes praying out loud for each other), that stat drops to below 1%.  Hey, isn’t I worth a shot; just sayin.

My former girlfriend and I made a lot of mistakes and ended up going separate ways way back when, but I think it’s safe to say we learned love means a whole lot more than what we realized.  We must have learned something; we’ve both been married to our chosen life mates for 40 years now, pretty awesome huh?!!

Okay, failed again to write a short story, actually I have a whole lot more to say on this subject but I’ll save that for another time.  

One final thought, since becoming Christian I’ve learned that repentance and forgiveness is not only healing, it’s a giver of life;

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and “will forgive” us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9  In other words Life everlasting.

We as Travelers of the Rock Road must give consideration to the question how will we journey this life trail, alone with a heavy load never to set down because of the problems we discussed today, or with others willing to bare the load with you knowing the true two-part meaning of love.

“Love means saying I’m sorry, and Love means I forgive you.”

Nuff said, thanks for reading!!

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!!