Traveling the Rock Road

I blogged once before on this subject, but I think it’s worth revisiting. 

This week we posted the picture you see on FB and had so many kind remarks I thought I’d write about it today.  The dress you see worn by all the girls is Cathy’s when she was three.  As time passed it became our daughter, Jamie’s and then on to our grand-daughters Hailey, Madison and Mae.  (The pic of Mae in the dress was photo shopped; she has a little ways to grow into it.)  But as each girl grows out of it, it’s returned to my Lady for safe keeping.  Yes, this dress is very special in the Miller family.  In part it’s a representation of a new life, a new beginning.  For you see it was the one and only item of clothing Cathy possessed when she went to live with her mom and dad; Cathy was adopted.

Cathy was born in Columbus, Ohio to a 14 year old mother.  Not being able to keep her new baby, Cathy was taken to an orphanage in Tiffin, Ohio where she lived for the next 3½ years.  Now I know some of you are wondering how she could end up being in the orphanage for such a long time; even back then children were placed fairly quickly with couples who had been on a waiting list to adopt.  So why this long stretch for such a little adorable cutie who just kept getting better looking as she grew older (No prejudice on my part of course!).  Well I see three reasons.  The first has to do with some, shall we say not so above the board legal matters that were happening back in the 50s.  I could elaborate on this more, but I’m not sure what I could say without consulting legal advice first.  (I know I got you brains mulling over that one and maybe someday I’ll write on this aspect; Maybe!) But as shrouded in mystery as this possible reason for Cathy’s delayed adoption, I do not see it as the main factor; two other causes play a higher role.  Mary Catherine (her birth name before it was changed to Cathy Lou) was this beautiful bundle of joy waiting for someone to love and want her, and someone did; the people who ran the orphanage.  From all the stories we’ve been able to find, these folks who were older, fell in love with Cathy and chose to make her their own.  She interacted with the other children at the orphanage, but lived mostly in the private section of the establishment with the managing couple.  So my Lady could very easily have gone a direction that would not have put her in my life as well as many others, but that wasn’t the plan.  As I said this couple was older and the husband suddenly died unexpectedly.  The wife realized she could not care for Cathy by herself and since they never legally adopted her she could be placed easily with another family; enter Clyde and Betty Lenhart.  They were a Fremont, Ohio couple who had been on the waiting list to adopt for a very long time.  When the call came they had to go to Tiffin immediately and make their decision quickly whether they wanted Cathy or not.  (Like they were going to say no once they had this girl in their arms!)  In what must have seemed like a New York minute, my Lady went from living in a very large place with many people to a two bedroom ranch style home with her new parents.  There’s a lot more I could say on how this happened so fast, but that would take us back to the things I’m not sure I can talk about. Matter of fact it was quite interesting how I acquired all this info and that I will share with you someday. (Soon as I’m positive the statue of limitation has run out!)

I’m just going to jump to my main point now before I get long winded.  Cathy’s start to life was not your typical story; there were more bends and turns in the years before she even went to kindergarten than what many will experience their entire life.  Here though, I believe, is the true reason for her early path on the Rock Road.  God knew this little one was a very special individual, anyone who knows my Lady will attest to that.  And He had a special plan for her life.  It wasn’t a calling to fame which anyone who ever heard her sing could have easily happened.  It wasn’t to wow the world with her intelligence (another area she is highly adept to).  It was for the calling to be a daughter, wife, mother, grandmother and friend to many whose lives would not been the same without her; or even would have existed for that matter.  You see Cathy had another special gift and that was recognizing who her Lord and Savior was from a very young age and never looking back. He saw, before any of us did how much love she had to share with others while still keeping her first love for Him at the center of her heart.

When Cathy left the orphanage that day she took with her a baby ring and necklace that was a gift from here birth mother, 3 stuffed animals, and the dress.  She continues to have all these possessions still today, but it is the dress that seems to have the most meaning.  It almost seems God was saying, “I know times have been a bit confusing, but you need to know I’ve always been here for you with a plan for your life, and here’s a beautiful dress for you to remember when it all started.”  Now this in my own theory on the dress, for you see, for whatever reason, Cathy has no memory of anything before living with her new parents, only the gifts she brought with her.  As for the rest, well same place I get all my vital information.  Here are a couple of vital tidbits I’ve picked up there; “God Has a Plan for your Life.  “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, they are plans for good, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 also, “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.” Romans 8:28

God had a special plan for my Lady (and do I ever thank Him for that!) just like He has one for me, and for you also.  Cathy’s starting point for the plan in her life is marked by a little blue and white dress that is handed down from generation to generation for others in our family to realize its importance, and their importance to God.

What marks your starting point on the Rock Road our Lord has for you?  If nothing, then why not start today; you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.  Don’t believe me?  Then ask the smiley cuties here in the half century dress, they’ll tell ya.  They have a God given example!!! 🙂

As far back as I can remember the only occupation I had an interest in pursuing was a career in music.  The desire to perform has burned inside of me since the first time I ever heard a live band.  It was magical to me, to watch each musicians work their instrument in a way that they blended with the others to make sound, beautiful harmonious melodies that completely swept me away, be it four piece rock group, jazz ensembles, or large orchestras.  I really didn’t care what it was I was going to play, I just knew I was born to a musician, and a musician will be what I do to till the day I die!

I started first trying to play guitar, an instrument I struggled with terribly, so bad that my music teacher informed my mom that it would be best not waste any more time and money on me, I just didn’t have it.  Broken hearted, I just knew he was wrong about me and thank goodness I had a mother that felt the same; on to drum lessons where I caught on much better and quicker.  This is where I found my entry into music and I made the best of it playing with any and all who would have me.  What I didn’t possess in talent in the early days, I made up for in explosive power (In other words I beat the tar out of those drums!).  I didn’t care if the performance was for 10 or 10,000; I put every bit of my heart and energy into playing.  Well somewhere along the road, two life changing events came my way, the 1^st was a discovery of a Savior in Jesus Christ to whom I gave my life.  The 2^nd, the young lady that God had chosen for me entered my life.  Over 40 years later I’m here to attest those are still the two constants that have stayed with me.   Music moved to a back burner so to speak.  I didn’t think it was right to be playing music in bar settings when I just became a new Believer.  Plus when Cathy and I married it was obvious that being gone most nights doing gigs wasn’t the best way to get our new life started.  Whether I liked it or not there had to be changes, and those changes had to come on my end.  The love of making music didn’t end there; it just took a different course.  My Lady was blessed with a beautiful voice, but a crash, bam, boom drummer wasn’t the greatest accompaniment to showcase her talent.  Back to my first love.  With the help of a friend who showed me more in an afternoon than my previous guitar teacher did in 6 weeks, I came away with 5 guitar chords and that was enough to play many songs that Cathy could sing.  It wasn’t long before we were doing special music numbers at our church, plus other churches and organizations.  This type of playing was fine and I really did enjoy it, but I felt an emptiness of sort.  I couldn’t help but feel that I was still meant to play music more than just a few Sundays a month for ten minutes.  I would talk to Cathy about how I felt God was calling us to do more with the talents He gave us, but I just didn’t know how to pursue it.  It was then someone told me of a small Christian college in Indiana that had a great music program headed up by a man who had been a professional musician.  I was informed that under his leadership many went on to either teach or become performers in their own right.  I “JUST KNEW” this was where God wanted me to be.

After a whole bunch of forms to fill out, I was accepted to the college for the fall semester of 1974.  We would need more money than we had for moving expense and getting settled in our new home in Indiana so I took a job at one place I knew I could make good money quick, the local foundry in our hometown.  Going to work in an establishment such as a gray iron foundry doesn’t require much aptitude or education; if you could put up with the dirt and the heat and show up for work everyday, you had a job.  At the end of each shift I would have to shower up to 30 minutes to get all the dirt and smell off, it was terrible.  The only thing that kept me going back was the thought, “Get past this and you’ll never have to work in a foundry again.”  Ten weeks later and a couple thousand dollars richer we headed west to our new lives, for better lives in the name of our Lord at least that was the plan. Whoa, what’s up with this?!!  There’s not enough time to go into the occurrences over the next three years; let’s just sum it, for now, and say I was left wondering if I had made the biggest mistake of my life!  Learning on a college level was a lot harder than I imagined, but I “JUST KNEW” God would instill me with what I needed to get the grades; wrong!  Then there was attitude and friend, did I have enough of that to go around!  Being older than most of my classmates, I had a different outlook, a more serious approach that didn’t allow me to enjoy the people around me.  Finally, I struggled a lot with the school’s policies and rules that I saw no more than legalistic BS! (Uh, that stands for Bologna Slices!)  It became harder for me to even show up for classes.  When I finally left three years later I had become hard hearted and disillusioned.

“God, what in the world have you done to me?!!  Didn’t I come out here for you?  Didn’t I give up everything I was doing in my old life for you?  You let me down!   You tricked me!!!  I don’t get it, I JUST KNEW you wanted me here!!!!!

I Just Knew——————-I Just————————————————————–I

It took some time, but a light finally came on inside this hard head of mine; I “just knew” what God wanted for me, but not once did I ever ask Him.

“The supreme challenge you will face in making Christ-honoring, biblical changes is dying to self.  The biblical perspective concerning “self” is exactly opposite to what the wisdom of this world proclaims.”  John C Broger 

I became so wrapped up in what “I saw” and what  “I wanted” that I forgot the most important part to knowing God’s will for my life, ask Him if this is what I should be doing or not.  In all the years since I have trusted Christ as Savior, I have come to learn the more I talk to Him, the more He will lead me in the direction He wants me to go.  And how do I do that?  Simply, prayer and reading of the Word of God diligently.  If you are a Believer who’s struggling with where your life is, I’m willing to wager you do not put these methods of communicating with the Creator of the Universe into practice as well as you should.  No offense, I’m just talking from experience.  As always I stress the point; I am not a religious man, but one of faith. And the more I put my faith in the one I call Lord the more He has led in not only in a direction He wants me to go, but one that I enjoy pursuing.

Proverbs 3:5-6

“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.”

So was it a mistake for me to come to Indiana?  I don’t think so, the time I did spend at the school taught me more about music than I ever learned before, enabling me to use it better for what I wanted to do in the first place, to be a minstrel in the service of my King!  The opportunities to play, be it Christian or secular have been vast and for that I give thanks that I am where “He Wants Me.”  Also I came to realize another way to serve that I didn’t give credence before, writing.  It’s hard to tell how big an audience of readers a person has. When you’re playing music you can look out over a crowd and get an idea.  But writing, well that’s something you might or might not be able to get a feel for.  But no matter if its one or a million reading my blog, I love and will continue to write.  Why?  Because I know, this is what “He Wants Me” to do!

Now both of the fields that I’m involved together don’t make me enough money to live. As much as I love doing these things, I need a steady occupation to pay the bills–a tent making as Paul would put it.  So what do I do?  I work in a FOUNDRY!  Granted, it’s nothing like the one back home, much cleaner (especially for me since I work in a lab). 

I’ve had opportunities to leave this job several times, but I’ve chosen not to do so.  Why? Well, because I like what I do and the people I come in contact with.  It’s made a good living for me and my family; they even paid for that college degree that brought me to Indiana in the first place (different school though).  Most of all, after much conversation on the subject I have determined it’s where I belong, at least for now.  Why?  Because it’s where “He Wants Me,” to be.  I’ve got no argument!

Blessings to you, fellow Travelers of the Rock Road!!!

I believe it was on my 10^th birthday that I received, what I then considered, the coolest gift I had ever been given, a portable transistor radio.  Yes, young folks, back in the early 60s, before boom boxes, tape players, CD players, ipods and even 8-tracks, this was the way you listened to your favorite tunes.  Oh, you might have had a hi-fi record player in the home to spin 45s and LPs, but to have your music with you all the time you had to have a transistor.  Pretty wild, huh?  And here’s the real kicker children, all the good stations were on AM and not FM!  The station of choice to listen to Beatles, the Stones and all the other rock bands, plus all the latest hits from Motown was CKLW, which broadcasted out of Windsor, Ontario, just across the river from Detroit.  Late in the evening radio waves from as far west as Chicago and St. Louis and east from places like Philadelphia and Atlanta would drift into my Ohio hometown and I would see how many I could dial up on a given night.  My little radio was all equipped with capability to pick up short wave frequencies.  It didn’t work real well, but occasionally, after midnight, I could listen to people talking in languages foreign to my ear.  Wouldn’t have the slightest idea what they were saying but just the fact that they were located in some far off land kept me completely mesmerized for hours.  Often I would fall asleep listening to a far off station only to awake the next day to a scratchy static sounds from loosing the station with the morning light.  This little techno-innovation of 1964 probably didn’t cost $20, but to me it was worth a million.  As far back as I can remember I’ve always had a love for music, now I could have it with me all the time; awesome!  I mean everyone loves to hear music; at least, so I thought.

It was a couple of weeks after my birthday and I was walking down the street listening to my radio when I passed two older boys.  One of the boys shouted at me, “You think you’re cool with that radio, don’t ya?”  I was caught off guard by this remark.  I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, so I just looked back over my shoulder and said, “No.” Proceeding up the street I ran into a couple other boys, but these I knew from the neighborhood.  They asked if they could see my transistor which I let them.  When one went to hand it back to me a hand from behind reached out and grabbed it, those older boys had followed me.  I didn’t say anything as the one looked it over carefully and said, “Pretty nice.”  “Thanks” I responded and reached out to retrieve it from him.  In the next moment my heart sank into my stomach.  Instead of handing it over, he gave it a toss as far as he could throw it. Luckily it was winter with a lot of snow on the ground so maybe it wasn’t damaged badly.  I ran as fast as I could to get to it but the boys followed right behind me.  Just before I could reach for it one knocked me down hard, face first, into the snow.  I raised my head up just in time to see the other boy take his booted foot and smash my radio farther down into the snow. Finished with their “fun” they walked off with one of them smirking “Bet you don’t feel so cool now, do you kid?”  Frantically digging I retrieved my radio from deep in the snow; but there was a crack in the plastic housing and the antenna was snapped off.  Walking home now I was crying my eyes out wondering why did this happen. Ward Fought, our next door neighbor saw my condition as I came down the sidewalk and came out of his house to see what the matter was.  I showed him my radio and he took it in his hands to examine it. “Johnny, leave this with me and let me see what I can do.  Come back over tomorrow, okay?”  The next day I went to see Ward and he had my little music maker working good as ever.  “Nothing real bad” he explained, “Just had to take it apart to let all the components dry properly, then I took an antenna I had from an old radio and hooked it up.  Can’t do much with the crack, it’s always going to be there, but I put some epoxy glue on it and it should hold.”  Ward turned it on and the music blared once again. “Sounds pretty good, huh” he said with a smile.  Good old Ward, I couldn’t thank him enough for what he did.  It did sound just as good as ever, but something had changed.  I never took it out of my room again and seldom did I even play it.  As much as I had loved this special gift from my mom, it now was a reminder of what happened that day the two older boys waylaid me just for having it.  It just didn’t make any sense, I didn’t do anything to them, all I was doing was listening to my radio; why would that be taken as acting like I’m better than someone else.  I would ask that question again, but in a different format, some 25 years later.

Olivia worked at a convenience store that I would often visit on my way home from work.  A beautiful young lady that was nice to everyone who came through the door.  One day when I stopped it was obvious Olivia was upset, possibly crying earlier.  “You okay?” I asked since this was out of the ordinary from the cheerful girl that usually greeted me.  “Yeah, I’m fine” was all she said and then silence that let me know she didn’t want to talk about it.  It was a couple of days before Olivia opened up with what was still wrong.  One of the other regulars mistook her friendliness as something else and asked her out.  She said, “I politely told him that I was seeing someone and couldn’t but thank you any way.  The next thing I knew he was belittling me, saying I was a big tease and that I wasn’t as pretty as I thought I was.” Pausing for a minute before speaking she said only a few more words; “and then it got worse.  I was crying but he didn’t care and probably would have gone on with his titrate if someone else hadn’t come in the store.” She then said words I heard coming out of my own mouth many years back; “Why’d he do that, I never did anything to him. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

I’m not by far the sharpest knife in the drawer, but it hasn’t taken me long in life to recognize not everyone has a kind heart or spirit.  I’ll go out on a limb and give the vast majority the thumbs up on kindness, but we all realize that there’s that “Mouthy Minority” who look for a chance to rain on someone else.  And don’t get the idea I’m coming down on people like that as not worth the time of day; I got this Book I read often that tells me God sees all of us as special.  I’ve learned that many people who tear down others for what they have, sometime or another had the same thing happen to them.  Anger becomes their defense and weapon for the purpose of retaliation, no matter if the one they attack has done anything to them or not.  I could have easily been one of those people because of instances in my life that were damaging to me.  Somewhere along the Rock Road I learned I didn’t have to be that way no matter how bad I get treated at times. If someone did something to me that was wrong , what good would it do to follow suit?  I had to learn no matter what anyone else did, I must do right!  That Book I spoke of has these words written in it; “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” Quite possibly that might sound corny, or even being too soft, but to date I find it works better than any retribution I could come up with.  (There’s another place that talks about the effects of being kind to ones that aren’t.  It’s found in Romans 12:20, but for the sake of time lets not go there today!)

Well that’s how to handle the radio smashers and the beauty attackers; but what about the damage they’ve instilled?  We wouldn’t be honest if we said such assaults do not leave scars.  Both cases I’ve written on have today have one commonality, what was attacked was not the person, so much as the gift they possessed.  I mentioned that the radio my mom bought me cost about $20 because of the extra features it had. Not a whole lot of money in today’s world but back 50 years ago mom was making a mere $1 an hour.  For her to buy me this gift took some sacrifice, but that didn’t matter, she wanted me to have this “Gift.” From that start came a love of music that has never died with many opportunities to perform what I love so much for others to enjoy, and even an added bonus, use my now extended “Gift” in the service of my Lord; Awesome!  As for Olivia, her “Gift” was her beauty and her friendly spirit.  She used that Gift to make others happy other when they met her, to make ones feel special, that this beautiful girl would make their day just a little brighter with a kind word and a smile.  Olivia recovered from her assault that day and I hear she went into nursing.  Still using her Gift plus her extended Gift making people happy!

This man learned a long time ago that Gifts are important, for they are generally given in love.  (The greatest of those Gifts you can read about in John 3:16.)  The question then to be asked is what do we do with the Gift?  Do we show it off or do we hide it?  Well, of course we show it off, it’s our way of saying thank you to the Giver of the Gift, it’s a way of saying, yes I am special but not because I say so, but because someone else does.  Our Heavenly Father has given us many diverse Gifts along the Rock Road, the best is offered through His Son Jesus Christ in the form of eternal life to each who accepts the greatest of Gifts. That’s my belief and I’m sticking to it! 🙂

Went a little long but I just felt I needed to say all I did. You are special, you have been give a Gift, and I’m sure to someone you are a Gift.

I think I used this quote once before but its worth repeating once again.  “Our talents are the gift that God gives to us… What we make of our talents is our gift back to God”

Blessings to each of you as you Journey along the Rock Road.

I have been blessed with the unique distinction of being able to call three different areas home.  Going in reverse order I’ve called Indiana home since 1974.  It was never my intention of staying here so long.  My Lady and I came out here for the purpose of allowing me to pursue an education in music and then return to where we moved from or possibly somewhere else.  What’s that old saying; best laid plans of mice and men?  We never planned to stay here but after 39 years, I feel it’s safe to say we’re pretty well rooted here.  This is home.

Before our move to Indiana we lived in Ohio.  Cathy was born there and my family settled around 1960.  All of hers and the majority of my childhood memories are centered on a farming community several miles south of Lake Erie.  The only home Cathy knew back then is there.  The old apartment house my family bought and made into our home is there also.  Beside family, all of the friends we grew up with are there along with the memories of laughter and fun times that go together with youthful days.  It’s where we met, fell in love, married and moved into our 1^st home, a little 2 bedroom place that cost us $105 a month! This was home.

I mentioned my family came to Ohio in 1960, for my birth state is the Wild and Beautiful West Virginia, Southern West Virginia to be exact, right up against the state of Virginia. I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs that childhood in Ohio wasn’t that great for me because of abuse at the hands of a great-uncle and also learning problems in my early school days that made me a target for bullying of all types.  The highest moment of my life was always when my Aunt Pearl and I made the yearly trip back to West Virginia.  That visit was sanctuary for me, seeing people that I loved dearly and sneaking off into the hills every chance I got. The center of activity was just outside a small community named Rock.  My heart would always skip a beat when we reached this settlement because then it was just one more mile of travel along the Rock Road  (Hey, that sounds like a great name for a Blog and manuscript!)  Out in the country, along a hillside sat my Uncle Dave’s and Aunt Virgie’s home (the house you’re seeing in the picture).  There was a large yard that ran downhill to my Uncle Sam and Aunt Dorothy’s home.  In my earliest days, I can remember my Great Grandmother Emmazetta Marshall (I love that name!!) still living and residing with Dave and Virgie.  There was also my Great Aunt Lily, one of the kindest souls I’ve ever known, living there.  This group was rounded out by Great Aunt Dot (or Dotsky) who lived in another community, but would come to see us when we came in.  These ones I have mentioned I lovingly referred to as the “Old Guard” of the family.  There were many other relatives we would see but these are the people that, in my opinion, held the family together, the ones who made you feel special, made you feel loved.  This is home.

Three homes, not a bad situation to have, huh?  But the question now comes forth, can I really claim all these places as home?  Well, yes, and no.  Yes for all the reasons I’ve given, but no because of time and change.  When we left Ohio we had every intention of someday returning, because it was home.  But over the years any family we had there is now gone, so were our childhood homes and even many of our friends who left the area also.  The memories of our youthful days will always revolve around Fremont, and we still return occasionally for a visit, but truth of the matter, it’s no longer home.

It’s now been a number of years since the last of the Old Guard passed away and the houses I loved to visit in West Virginia have been sold and changed over time.  I still visit from time to time, but without them, it’s just not the same.  The beauty of the hills and the forest is still there, but the people who taught me so much about life are no longer apart of them.  There have been times I’ve traveled back, but not told any of my remaining family there I was in.  I wasn’t being rude or evasive, but I had a need to travel the Rock Road once again, and to listen.  Going on my remembrance I could once again hear their voices, and relive the deep heritage they instilled in me.  I love to go back, physically, and mentally, again, it’s no longer home.

I do so much love our home in Indiana, its nothing extraordinary, but it’s the house we built to live in and raise our children.  It’s the place all of them recognize as home, and there are even other kids that became apart of our lives that have a special bond to us and our little abode.  There’s a good chance we’ll finish out our days there, but there is also the possibility we made relocate someday after retirement Good Lord’s will and the creek don’t rise.   My Lady and I still have a love for the mountains and it wouldn’t take much to finish out our days in Tennessee or North Carolina.  Knowing that about us, I can truthfully say that Indiana, as much as we love it, isn’t really home.

So where can I call home if none of the places I wrote tonight about apply?  Am I saying that I have no where I can identify with, where I can boast citizenship?  No, of course not, only I haven’t been there yet.  When I chose to put my faith in Christ I was given a new citizenship. The Bible teaches that we are here for only a moment, visitors and strangers in the land as our ancestors were before us.  Our days on earth are like a passing shadow, gone so soon without a trace; 1^st Chronicles 29:15.   I have such a love for life and for everything around me that it’s hard to imagine some place even better, but if I’m to believe in a God who loves me so much that He promises something even better than what I see now, then I have to believe He’s saving the best for last! (Check out John 14:2-3)

At my age I realize that most of the living I’ve done is now behind me.  It’s been a long journey, but Sweet Jesus, what an awesome journey it’s been, and still looking forward to seeing what’s around the next bend on the Travels of the Rock Road.  I also know when the journey finally does come to an end, I have the assurance that it’s only beginning, I’ll at last, be home; AWESOME!!!  Think I’ll let my man Buddy Greene sum it with the words to one of his songs:                                                                  

“I don’t belong and I’m going someday home to my own native land

I don’t belong and it seems that I hear, the sound of welcome home band

I don’t belong I’m a foreigner here, just singing a sojourner’s song

I’ve always known this place ain’t home and I don’t belong.”

“There is nothing small in the service of God.”

I suppose some would say I’m bragging, while others would conclude I’m complaining, when truth is all I’m doing is stating a fact. And that fact is, that in the 40 years of marriage Cathy and I have celebrated, we have found ourselves called upon to help or service someone or something more times than I could begin to count.  There have been important times of being called to duty that definitely will always stick with us. We have found ourselves sitting with people who have gone through very traumatic moments like losing everything they have to some form of ruin, or worse, losing a loved one, and in this day and age, even finding myself sitting with family as they watch a dear soul lose the battle for life caused by the deadly virus AIDS.  Yes, those are the events that stick with someone for a lifetime no doubt.  But what about all the small contributions, for lack of a better word; a ride to an appointment, a $20 loan with the promise of payback (knowing that will never happen).  Then there’s the individual who just needs someone to listen to them when no one else will.  I could go on forever with examples, but like I said it could be easily interpreted as bragging or complaining.  But I’d be willing to wager a new nickel I’m not alone in these endeavors; that many people find themselves being called into non-gratuitous service; or as some might define it, “being used by others.”

Granted, there have been the ones that seem to have a problem all the time, that no matter how much you help it’s never enough.  Well I’ve come to learn you’re just not going to be able to help every person that crosses your path, that no matter what you do, the person or the situation never seems to get any better.  So does that mean you’ve done nothing but waste your time and possibly resources?  Certainly not!  There was a time I would have thought contrary to that but two factors changed that mindset in me; one came in the fashion of a pint size toddler with sleepy eyes.

It was years ago and I was working out of town because I couldn’t find a job locally.  A man who worked at the same place and lived near me asked if he could ride with me since he didn’t have a reliable car.  Feeling a little funny about this character I reluctantly agreed and started picking him each morning.  Seldom was he ever ready and even made us late for work a few times.  As time went on and I got to know my rider better I came to realize he suffered from anxiety issues, that nearly anything could send him into a deep panic attack, a couple of those I witnessed 1^st hand in my car.  As we rode back and forth to work I spent countless hours trying to help him understand that he didn’t need to fall apart every time adversity, be it small (which is what it was most of the time) or large would confront him. Once or twice I really thought I had gotten through to him, only to find him right back in the same wild-eyed terror the next day.  After several months of this, I was resolved that nothing was ever going to change and now this demeanor of his was starting to affect me.  I was going to have to part ways with my friend.  There are times that’s the only avenue you have left and for the sake of your own well being or a loved one, you have to make a tough decision like that.  That situation worked itself out when his brother got a job there and he wouldn’t need to ride with me anymore.  But before that transition came about, I still picked him for another week.  On one of those mornings I was sitting in front of his trailer waiting like I had many times when his wife came rushing out.  He was in there having one of his attacks and she couldn’t get him calmed down.  Entering I found him rushing from room to room looking for something he felt he just had to find.  I tried to calm him down to no avail.  I found myself getting angry at the whole situation and turned to head out and go to work without him; but then, there she was.  She couldn’t have been 3 years old, long bushy brown hair, dressed in a sleep shirt that reached the floor.  Rubbing her eyes from sleep, she had been awakened by all the noise her dad was making.  I found myself looking down at her as she looked up at me, and then; two little arms outstretched for me to pick her up. As soon as I gathered her up, her head was down against my shoulder.  I stood there for what seemed to be a long time swaying back and forth as this little angel clung to me. When she was finally asleep, her mom took her from my arms and returned her to bed.  Her dad got passed his attack and we headed for work.  And for the very first time, I was glad God had put this man in my path.  I left the job and never saw this man again.  

Flash forward a dozen years or so and I’m at the grocery store where I see the wife of my former rider.  She had a teenage girl with her who I knew instantly was the angel that slept in my arms.  I wasn’t going to say anything, but the mom reminded her of that night, and the next thing I knew I had the same arms around my neck, only a lot bigger than previous. “You don’t know how often I’ve thought about that time when I was scared and you helped me.”  Wow, I poured hours into helping her dad, to no avail, and here I’m being told just a few minutes of holding made a difference in this child’s life. How cool is that for God to “use me” in such a way?!!

Okay, I said there were two factors that changed how I looked at being a help when it seemed it’s not worth the effort.  The second one again stems from my position in Christ. I’ll say it again as I’ve said it many times, I’m not a religious man; I’m a man of faith. And if I hold to that faith then I hold to what the Word of God tells and teaches me.

Hebrews 6:10 tell us “God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.”

If I’ve learned anything, calling oneself a Christian means you have chosen to follow a path where you must be willing to be “used” at any moment, at any time; its not a passive life, it’s a life of action.  Will you see accomplishments at every endeavor you put forth in the name of the Lord?  Absolutely not.  But that doesn’t mean it didn’t have a purpose, that God won’t use it somewhere, sometime.  The saying ‘God loves a cheerful giver’ is true, especially when you’re giving of yourself; He doesn’t forget!!!

Travelers of the Rock Road are many, most are like you and me, common to the world, nothing special to write a book about.  Just traveling on, seeing what the next bend offers and what good they can be in the Service of the King.  If you’re one of them and sometimes feel wore down from the journey, thinking maybe what you have to offer isn’t really worth much, just remember what one person said; “In Christian service the branches that bear the most fruit hang the lowest.”  Just a thought I hope you’ll give consideration to. 🙂

It was about 30 years ago that I took an interest in weight lifting and bodybuilding.  I had a good set of weights and benches, but I just didn’t seem to be getting the results I was looking for so I joined a local club who had a professional trainer we’ll call Henry.  It didn’t take Henry long to see where I was making mistakes in my attempts to add muscle.  From the very 1^st workout routine he put me on, I began to see and feel a difference.  He instituted types of lifts into my conditioning that could make a 20 pound weight feel like 100.  In 12 weeks, I added muscle tone I never achieved in all other workouts.  Every four weeks he would dramatically change everything I was doing, most often without increasing the weight.  “You have to shock the muscles into growing not by lifting heavier, but by lifting smarter,” he would say.  Yep, Henry was a miracle worker when it came to helping guys train and it didn’t matter the challenge be it putting on muscle or burning away fat, Henry had an answer that worked.

To meet Henry in person, you might not have gotten a 1^st impression that this individual could be so knowledgeable in weight training.  You could tell he was in good shape, no bulging layers of fat protruding anywhere on the man. But Henry stood 5feet 4 at best. He looked to be in his 50s and spoke softly and little at that.  If you came to him and told him what you wanted to accomplish, he’d say, “Okay, let’s get started.”  He’d then take you to his office where he would get out a binder and start placing pages of workout routines in it. This would be your workout bible, you had to bring it every time you came to the club.  As with me, he would change up a routine and place new pages in the binder as you advanced in your training.  Maybe in the early phase you would be a little hesitant on whether or not this not so rugged looking individual knew what he was doing, but you wouldn’t stay that way once you got into the program; the results would speak for themselves.  Also, once you got to know who Henry was, you found out this man was the real deal.  Outside of Henry’s office were several pictures of a man fully ripped from the neck down and I liked to watch new people studying the pictures and then suddenly realize, it was Henry!  

Henry was older than he appeared and back in the 50s and 60s he competed on the world stage in bodybuilding, lightweight division.  He had many more pictures of himself and some of the top muscle men in the world in his office.  

His life story was something you would see on an old movie.  A young boy, orphaned early in life and running the backstreets of Brooklyn, until a local policeman takes an interest in Henry and gets involved in weightlifting at a local boy’s club.  The rest is history, Henry is a natural and gains notoriety for his muscle toned body.  Then an agent gets him into competing and Henry travels all over the world to many tournaments and exhibitions.  As fame would have it with so many, Henry got involved in a bad lifestyle filled with drugs and alcohol.  He later found himself penniless, living in Columbus, Ohio sleeping in shelters.  It wasn’t until a friend found him and helped Henry get his life back on course by letting him sleep on his couch. He then met his future wife and made a vow to clean up his life if she would marry him.  They married and Henry kept to his word.  One of the biggest stumbling blocks in his road was that the only thing he knew was bodybuilding; he had never done anything else.  So Henry and his new bride would have to locate to where ever he could find work as a trainer, that’s what brought him to our town.  These tidbits of Henry’s life were something he shared with everyone.  Cathy and I got to know him not only as a trainer, but as a friend.  The club was a mile from our house so we had him come over for lunch on occasion and casual talk, something he enjoyed.  Over the course of time, he let us peer into the life he once led.  As time passed he became more comfortable with others and shared more of his life story.  He even allowed a local news writer to interview him and put many details of his career in the paper.  Henry was, once again, becoming quite the celebrity, only this time on a much smaller level, something that he could handle and enjoy much more than the earlier days.

It had been over a year after I met Henry and thought I knew everything about him, until one day at the club.  Members who worked out there were always bringing muscle magazines in to ask Henry workouts that were being shown.  Always there were pictures of the routine demonstrated and Henry would give his appraisal.  

Then one day a guy brought in an article, no pictures, only a new technique and he had to hear what the master’s opinion was.  Henry looked nervous as he put on his reading glasses and seemed to scan the commentary in front of him.  A small group of us had gathered around, always interested, in new workouts and what Henry’s take on it was.  After a brief moment he looked up and said, “Well, maybe.”  Then looking at me he handed the paper, “Here John, what do you think of this?”  What do I think of it?!!  To me that was like Hank Aaron, back in his day, asking the batboy what bat he thought he ought to use. Without really looking at the article I handed it back to him; “Henry, whatever you say is okay with me,” I said with a smile.  Henry wasn’t smiling; “Okay, let me take this to my office and study it,” and he turned and headed off.  Something wasn’t right, that’s for sure but I didn’t think it was the right time to pry.  After my workout, I showered, got dressed and headed out of the club; but I could see Henry was still sitting in his office. Opening his door I went in and sat acrossed from him. “Henry, are you okay, did I do something to upset you?” Now he gave a little smile.  “No, not at all I was just looking for you to fish me out like my wife does, but if you don’t know what’s going on you can’t.”  He could see the look of confusion written on my face, so he just said it, “John, I can’t read.”  Starting back to the early days when it was discovered he was gifted in his art of muscle building and progressing on from there no one ever took the interest in whether Henry could read or not and he reached a point where it was embarrassing to him, so he never mentioned it.  He was able to fake his way through a lot of things and later friends and his wife were able to cover for him.  I felt terrible like I should have caught it and been more of a help later, but Hank wouldn’t have any of that.  “I’ve started to learn how to read with the help of my wife.  I’ve found it’s a lot like everything else I caught on to, I memorize.  That’s why I came in here to see how many words I could pick out and maybe understand what it says.  What I don’t get, my wife will help me with when I get home so, you see, it’s okay.  Memorization, that’s something I could relate to for I, like Henry, could not read until I was 12 years old.  To have any hope of understanding what was going on in class, I memorized the words I could in hopes of just getting by.  Henry and I spent the better part of an hour talking and comparing notes on how fearful we used to feel that someone would discover our secret.  So here was something we shared, but we also shared something else, that was the love of a Savior in Jesus Christ.  The friend that took Henry in back in Columbus was a Christian and poured all the love he learned from following Christ into Henry.  It had such impact on Henry that one night on bended knee in his friend’s apartment he made Jesus Lord of his life.  He pulled out a little tape-recorder I had seen him listening to in the past.  On it he showed me where his wife had recorded many Bible verses for Henry to have with him always.  He had complete books of the Psalms that he could recite right along with the recording.  Reaching into his desk he pulled out a tape, placed it in the recorder and said, “Here’s the one I listen to every day.”  Pushing the play button only a few words were recorded, his favorite verse as well as one of mine; “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”   Henry, “As long as I know that, I know everything will be okay.” I got no argument.

The next day Henry talked to the guy who brought the article in and told him his opinion. He also told him he had to get his wife to read it to him first since he couldn’t read.  After that seemed even more comfortable and everyone who knew felt the same way, read or not, Henry was the best weight trainer any of us had ever met, he was the teacher, we were his students, and oh my, did we ever learn!
A short time later the club closed up and Henry was gone.  The next time I saw him, he looked different, weaker; he was battling liver cancer.  But when he saw me that same smile came to his face as he related to me what he had been doing since the last time we saw each other.  He talked and talked and before we parted ways he reminded me of our verse; “Remember, we can do all things with the muscle God gives us!”

Later that evening, I was thinking of Henry, his condition and his outlook and knowing I would never see him again I realized this man, this teacher was still training the student. Wow, strong in body, strong in spirit, strong and happy, in his march into Heaven, awesome.

Top that, Charlie Atlas!!!

“Those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end.

We’d sing and dance forever and a day.

We’d lead the life we choose, we’d fight and never loose,

Those were the days, oh yes those were the days.”  Mary Hopkins

There are many things in life that separate us from each other and secure our position as individuals, one of those features are memories.  All of us have at least one moment in time, be it a certain year, month, week, or even as little time as a day that we cling to its memory as being extraordinary, perhaps it even shapes and defines who we are today.  Of my favorite recollections as a child, the top of the list would have to be summer visits with my Great-Aunt Pearl back to my birth state West Virginia.  I was saddled down with so many insecurities back then that just getting away and into those hills was healing to my soul and emotional state.  The added joy of seeing extended family members who always had kind words, warm smiles, and loving hugs was worth its weight in gold. That’s a memory I’ll keep a lifetime.  For my Lady, it would be the summers her and her parents spent at their trailer on Lake Erie.  At the end of each school year the Lenharts would close up the house in Fremont and head up to Marblehead, Ohio, right on the lake. Cathy would spend the season hanging with her laker friends, going roller skating, and of course that all important matter when summering by a beach, working on a tan!  Good times, good memories.  Like I said some memories can be reduced to a short time slot. One buddy of mine came from a family of nine kids.  The father worked while mom stayed home and raised the kids so money was always tight, no extravagant trips for them, except one day every year.  The company my friend’s dad worked for had a large picnic for its employees each summer at Cedar Point Amusement Park.  The family would pile into their station wagon early on the morning of the picnic.  The mom would be armed with boxes of donuts they would eat on the way there.  Arriving, the older kids would get their arm bracelets that allowed them to ride everything in the park and off they would go while the younger ones went with the parents to the kiddie rides.  Everyone would meet back up for the company picnic at a designated spot to eat, and then back to the rides and sights there were to see.  To this day my friend looks back at that time with joy as he relives the rush feeling he got from the roller coasters, and just the excitement of feeling so alive, as he puts it.    

As I stated, memory and actions of a time period sometimes define who we are today.  I have a friend who did a tour in Viet Nam during the height of the conflict.  He was to be there a year, but was cut short when he was wounded and shipped out.  Here it is some 45 years later and not a week passes that you won’t find him relating the whole episode to someone.  He once told me in the early days he had to talk about it to keep his sanity. Later, he used the tales of war to help others who might be struggling the way he had.  He’d say, “I believe God put me in that war and then brought me home safe for a purpose, not just to be a soldier, but to be a help to the hurting and the scared.  Believe me; I know what that’s like!” 

I’ve spoke of my “15 minutes of fame.”  That’s a statement by Andy Warhol that every living person will experience 15 minutes of fame in their life.  My came and is gone and I think I had 13 minutes left over.  I’ve been a musician all my life, mostly on small venues like most.  For a short period of time, I got called up to the “Bigs” so to speak.  There’s nothing like the feeling a musician gets when bright lights hit you in the face and the sound of an audience resounds to a roar.  Suddenly the music explodes from the stage with an incredible, pulsating power and you realize, you’re part of the energy that’s creating that musical explosion; awesome!  Yep, short and sweet (kinda, but that’s a different story) my moment in the sun in the music industry; but it’s something I’ve never forgotten, or ever will.  Did I learn something from that experience?  Sure, that God gave me a love of making music for any size of listeners from 10 to 10,000.  That’s something I’ve always had and I always will, especially if I can do it to His glory.

“Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best.”

Never consider that those little moments in your life don’t mean anything to anyone else. It’s this man’s opinion that God gives each of us different circumstances for a reason. Maybe it’s to prepare for something else, maybe to be a help to others, even perhaps to relate them to someone else that may need a little sunshine in their day, brought by what you have to share.  I hold to the belief that memories and experiences are like my Aunt Pearl’s kitchen, nothing ever goes to waste, and everything has a taste, so everything has a use.

Yes, I understand not all memories are good, happy and uplifting, but is that to say they can’t be used to still be a help to others.  Not having a dad as a child to role model after, I was scared to death of how I raised my children, so I gave them my own saying.  “Take the things I do wrong and make them right, take the things I do right, and make them better.”

“Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.” 1Peter 4:10

If anyone has a story or a memory they would like to share, I’m sure others would love to hear it.  Who knows, your experience just may be the story someone has needed to hear. Awesome!!!

Back in high-school I had a conversation with a guy that went something like this.  A quiet, almost secretive voice, “Hey Miller.”  Speaking in the same tone; “Hey what?”  I was told you could help me score some marijuana.”  “Maybe, how much you looking to score?”  “I don’t know, what’s the usual?”  (What?!!  Never had that question before, hmm.)  “Uh, dude, you ever smoke dope before?”  A sheepish look, “No, but I want to try, it but don’t want people to know, can you get me some or not?” (Oh boy, this is gonna be good!)  “Yeah, I can hook you up, but the stuff I have is really powerful and I only sell one joint at a time; it’ll cost you $5.”  “Okay, when?”  “Before school tomorrow, parking lot.”  My customer was already there when I showed up the next morning.  “Ya got it?”  “Yep, you got the 5?”  He stood there just looking at the hand rolled reefer cigarette he now possessed for some time, even shaking a little.  “Hey man, if you don’t want to do this that’s fine,” I told him. “No, I do, this is just so new to me and a little scary.”  “Look, just puff on it lightly and don’t smoke the whole thing or you won’t be able to move.”

I didn’t see him the next day and wondered where he was and if he was okay.  The answer would come the next morning back in the parking lot. “Miller, you weren’t kidding about how powerful that dope was,” an excited voice was telling me.  “After my parents went to bed, I sneaked down to the garage and lit that bad boy up!”  “And,” I questioned. “Well the first few puffs I thought I was going to die I coughed so hard, but then I got used to it and really liked what was happening.  I gotta confess, I got into so much I ended up smoking the whole thing.”  I know you said not to, but it was great!  I stayed buzzed all night and most of the next morning.  I told my mom I wasn’t feeling good and she called in for me before she left for work.”  Now laughing hysterically it took him a minute to get the rest of his words out, “That was the most incredible thing I ever experienced!  I told a couple of my buddies about it and they want to try this super dope with me this weekend, think you can sell me another joint, maybe two?”  This was just too good and I was laughing as hard my friend was, but for a different reason. Reaching into my back pocket I pulled out my wallet, took a 5 from it and handed it to the guy.  “What’s this,” he asked with puzzlement on his face. “Your money back, use it to get yourself a couple of beers at the Depot (young person’s bar back in the day); you’ll get a better buzz that way if that’s what you’re looking for.”  “What are you talking about?  I never got that high on 3.2 beer” (type of beer you could by in Ohio back in the 70s if you were between the ages of 18 and 21.)  

“What was that stuff anyway, redbud from Columbia?”  “No,” I finally fessed up, “Oregano from my mom’s spice rack!”  I’m now looking into a face with a very blank stare plastered across it.  “No, you’re lying, I couldn’t have been more stoned,” He demanded.  “I know what I experienced, just like you said, I couldn’t stand up I was so wasted from that weed.”  “You were wasted on believing what I told you and what your mind thought you were putting in your lungs, not on any “Weed.”  I run into this guy every so often and he’ll always say, “Sold any really fine oregano lately?”  He also told me once he stayed mad at me for 20 years, but then realized I probably did him a favor.

Yeah, I get a little chuckle every time I think about that episode.  Just a little fun with a guy, no one seriously hurt.  It would be great if all deceptions were that innocent with no casualties.  Unfortunately, that’s not always the case.  Quite often someone gets hurt in some fashion when they’ve been the target of a ruse or scam.  I saw that 1^st hand when it happened to my mother.

Mom was in her 70s when the whole thing started, a simple mailing arrived at her house saying she had won some enormous amount of money and all she had to do was remit a small handling fee and they would cut her a check.  I wasn’t aware of it at first, but one day while visiting her I saw a stack of mail on her table all representing themselves as agents trying to ensure she would get the money owed to her, and all wanting small amounts of capital to get the ball rolling.  Upon further investigation I found these letters in almost every drawer in the house.  It was quite the showdown when I confronted her with all letters that she had been hiding from me.  “I knew you’d be upset and not trust these people if I told you about it,” she said angrily.  “But these are good people who are looking out for my best interest, I’ve talked to them on the phone and they’re really nice, Christian too!”  “Soon we’ll have more money than we’ll know what to do with!”  Oh, Boy, not good.   It took some doing, but I was able to get mom’s power of attorney which enabled me to look at her bank statement.  Easily 5 figures had been siphoned from her account by these vultures.  Next we had her mail redirected and delivered to our house. There was so much in the beginning it would come bundled, somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 lbs worth a week.  Finally, I started intercepting these calls from the “nice Christian people” who were only looking out for mom’s best interest.  Funny, when I talked to them I didn’t get the same warm and cozy feeling that ma had.  Matter of fact it was more on the line of rude and loud, oh well, so much for fellowship.  When it was over, the amount of money mom turned over to these people was much higher than first estimated.  The worse part came when mom finally realized she had been duped and humiliated by these people, something she never fully recovered from.

J.C. Watts said, “Character is doing the right thing when on one is looking.  There are too many people who think that the only thing that’s right is to get by, and the only thing wrong is to get caught.”

We can question forever how anyone can have so much malevolence in their heart as to victimize any person, especially the elderly.  The only answer I come up with is the same one I always land on, if something is so wrong, what is it that I am doing to make it right? Do I live my life in such a way that I would never think of harming someone else for my own advancement?  I like to think the answer to that is yes just like most who will read this post. But I also realize there are ones who have no qualms of pursuing gain whatever the cost might be to another.  My prayer is they come to understand whatever earthly reward they achieve is nothing compared to what they sacrifice in the big picture.  Martin Luther King Jr. said it this way, “the time is always right to do what is right.”

Let us all examine who we are and what truly is valuable now and in the long run, not only for ourselves but others.

As always my understanding and belief comes from what I have learned from the One I call Lord, Savior, Emanuel.  Matthew 6:19-21; “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

I wish you all happiness and riches in the true meaning of the word. 🙂

The little statuette you’re seeing here was gifted to me by my lovely and wonderful wife a number of years back.  Most would conclude she gave it as a tribute to my relationship to our sons when they were small.  I suppose that would be as good a guess as any, but that wasn’t the reason.  The motivation for her presenting me with this precious gift was because of the way I was raised; in other words fatherless.  Oh sure, there was my great-uncle who I wrote about some time back, but he was far from the true meaning of a father figure.  There was even a step-father for a brief moment in my life, but here was a man who was drug addict (yep, even in the 50s they were out there) that was even farther from being a role model than my uncle.  Then there’s the man whose name I’ve carried all these years, but what do you say about someone you never knew.  So really, there was no male figure I had to look up to; that is, until I learned of the love of a real father, a Heavenly Father.  Someone who is always there for me, who never leaves me and who loves me so much He sent His Son to ensure I would be with Him forever.  I can’t see Him in the physical sense, but I know He’s there for me.  I don’t hear His voice the way we hear each other, but I know He hears me and cares for every word I utter.  There are times I do things that I know makes Him sad, but I also know no matter how much I fail Him, His love for me will never fall short, or end.  There have been times at a low point in my being that I have cried out to God and it has felt like He is there with me, with His loving arm around my shoulder.  So when my Lady saw this symbol of a Father’s love she bought it for me, and I never tire of looking at it! Nowadays, I keep it on my desk at work for the reason I’ve talked about here, but also as a reminder of the many blessings my Father has placed in my life; an incredible wife, six children counting spouses, five grand-children and a host of far too many to count that have come through our home and relate to Cathy and I as mom and dad, or grandma or grandpa; awesome!  As I’m reminded of these Blessings, I take moments through the day to lift as many as possible in prayer for safety, happiness; and thank God for each of them being a part of my life.

Now then, if we have learned anything from the terrible events of the last few days, we have reached the harsh realization that as long as evil is in the world none of us are immune to tragedy and violence; it can strike anywhere, anytime and totally turn our lives dramatically upside down.  Yes, we can discuss this dilemma and come up with many ways to subdue wickedness, but truth is we can’t do a darn thing to stop it.  Now I don’t wish to come across that I have an answer to this mess, and I’m not looking to wax heartwarming clichés that’s suppose to make you feel better; no, only a long process of healing can do that.  I guess what I’m attempting to say is since Friday I’ve have thought of all the people in my life especially my grandchildren who are in school and my youngest son who is teaching in the Indy school system right now, and I pray for them, and I yearn to let each know how much I love them.  No matter what, this man’s love for them will never fail, just like my Heavenly Father’s love for them, and for you.

Okay, I know I said I wasn’t interested in using any clichés, but I will give you one I’ve used in the past quoted by Chuck Swindoll, “Each day of our lives we make a deposit in the memory banks of our Children.”  Please, dear friends, do everything possible to let your loved ones know how much they mean to you and how special they are, be they 1 to 91!  My belief is the best way to do that is tell them of the love of a Heavenly Father and a Savior, and let them know you how much you love them every chance you’re given, and that you pray for them; nothing can say I love you more in this man’s opinion.  You never know you won’t get that chance again.

Okay, I’m rambling and I know not everyone is going to agree with me, but I still feel I had to say it, thanks for listening; here’s hoping and praying for your tomorrows.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 – Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Blessings to you and your loved ones.