August in January
The year began with the arrival August, the fourth grandchild,
the fourth grandson.
August came out of the womb with a smile as wide as the
Golden Gate. He is incessantly happy,
mischievous, curious. To look at him is
to laugh. We have not heard is first
words yet, but you just know they are going to be hilarious.
Skiing a Black
Diamond
A few years ago I joined with some great guys to form
Operation Snowmen, an annual ski excursion to some snowy, western destination. Last year we went to Vail/Beaver Creek, where
I finally turned my skis down a black diamond.
I was slow, I fell a lot, but I made it to the bottom.
This year the Snowmen are headed to Jackson Hole, where over
70% of the runs are black. So pray for
me.
Meeting Bob Goff
Bob Goff may be the biggest man I ever met. It’s not his six-and-half-foot frame that
measures huge, it is his extraordinary life partially chronicled in his book Love Does.
Bob was scheduled to speak at an OnPoint banquet in
Chattanooga in March. His plane from
California was delayed to the point he would certainly miss his connecting
flight from Atlanta. To complicate
matters, snow was in the forecast. The
bottom line was that my daughter Lesley, CEO of OnPoint at that time, was
concerned Bob would not make it to the banquet in time.
So I volunteered to drive to Atlanta and pick him up. It was not a selfless act. I seized the opportunity to spend time with a
man who published a popular book later in life.
In other words, I wanted to pick the brain of a man who is living my
dream.
When you read Goff’s first person stories, you find yourself
wondering if he could be bending the truth.
After two hours alone with him, I would bet my life every word is
true. He is bold, bubbling with positive
energy, engaging and authentic. He
talked about following Jesus with the familiarity and ease of someone following
the Braves.
Bob told me after Chattanooga he was flying to Iraq, to an
area surrounded by ISIS, to check on a school he had helped launch for Kurdish
children. He said ISIS was kidnapping,
raping and killing children there. He
said schools like his were essential to fighting the growing darkness. A few days later on his Twitter feed he posted
photos of himself and many children, all smiling with a confidence untainted by
the dire world around them.
Bob Goff is a big man fueled by a big God. I would chauffer him anywhere.
Charlie Rides A Big
Bike
Janice and I gave grandson Charlie a balance bike when he
was three. He was four before he figured
out the physics of it, and then he became a marvel. If the ESPN X-Games had a balance bike
competition, Gnarly Charlie would medal.
So for his fifth birthday Janice and I gave Charlie a real
bike, and by spring it seemed time to take the training wheels off. So I removed the extra wheels and also the
pedals, making the big-boy bike a larger version of his balance bike. Charlie cruised the driveway for about a
minute and a half and then told be to put the pedals on. He was ready.
I did and he was.
Teaching Acts
The Book of Acts is an epic story with an all-star cast that
chronicles the birth and dispersion of the early Christian church. Luke the Gospel writer continues his
reportage on the lives and work of Peter, John, Stephen, Paul, Barnabas, Silas
and others. It’s interesting when Luke’s
narrative switches from the third person to the first, and you realize Luke is
alongside Paul and personally experiencing all the highs and lows of the
extraordinary missionary journeys.
Acts resounds with veracity.
You realize that no one would persevere the cruelty of the established
culture to spread the radical Gospel unless they were doing it at the command
of a risen savior. When Paul stands
before the Roman governor and tells of his personal encounter with Jesus on the
road to Damascus, you know it is all marvelously true.
It took about six months to teach through the book. For me, it was a faith-building experience. For those in my Sunday class, well, you’ll
have to ask them.
Sam The Writer
My oldest grandson Sam is an athlete. He loves football, baseball, basketball, dodge
ball--any ball. If it involves a game,
Sam is driven to compete and excel. When
I look at Sam, frankly I see me. I was
precisely the same way.
So it was a nice surprise to see Sam dressed in long pants
on the Tivoli Stage and accepting a young writer’s medal for an essay he wrote. I know from personal experience that sort of
encouragement is critical to a young mind.
Athletic accomplishments fade with age. The joy of arranging apt words on a page can
last a lifetime.
Snow On Labor Day
In September, Janice and I fulfilled a decade’s-long desire
see Banff and Jasper National Parks. We
used our passports for the first time and landed in Calgary, Alberta. If I annoyed Janice by incessantly humming
Gordon Lightfoot’s Alberta Bound during
the hours on the plane, she did not say.
The 130-kilometer drive from the airport to Banff is
magical. The jagged, purple mountains
first appear as teeth rising from the flat Alberta ranchlands. Then they grow in
majesty and ferocity as you speed west.
I don’t know which was wider, our eyes or our mouths.
We spent six days exploring alpine lakes, waterfalls,
glaciers and even a hint of the Northern Lights. On Labor Day we decided to hike from Lake
Louise to the Lake Agnes Tea House. As
we gained elevation, the temperature descended and the gray skies began to
release snow.
Snow on Labor Day felt foreign and exhilarating. Sharing it with the love of my life made it perfect.
Gene Proves The
Doctors Wrong . . . Again
We got the phone call on my birthday that our dear friend
Gene was on a ventilator in the ICU and would likely not live through the
day. The next day doctors said he would
likely not live through the weekend.
The arrival of 2016 finds Gene home with this family. It is the second time he has defied all the
experts. He continues to have a lot of
serious health issues, but he is one tough guy.
I admire him greatly.
Halloween In Annapolis
The Gospel of Jesus Christ reveals itself in the most
unexpected ways, at the most unusual times.
At the end of October Janice and I travelled to Annapolis,
Maryland with new friends Barb and Brian Fleming to visit their son John, a
fourth-year midshipman at the Naval Academy.
Annapolis is a charming town, and the Naval Academy is impressive beyond
description. It was fascinating to learn
all the history and traditions of the place.
One of those traditions is a huge Halloween musical
production performed by the midshipmen in the campus chapel. Tickets are as rare as Go Army tee shirts,
but Brian secured us some.
I will admit that my Baptist sensibilities were startled a
bit by sight of ghouls and ghosts welcoming us into a chapel, but I was excited
to be there. The building is
glorious. I would describe it as more
cathedral than chapel. The purplish
Halloween lighting gave it a gothic feel.
I will also admit that I did not expect much in the way of
musical talent from students at a military academy, but I was wrong. Their talent was polished and their staging
was Broadway-like. It was a great show.
Upon finding places to sit, I noticed immediately the single
seat a few rows in front of us. It was
roped off and occupied only by an unlighted candle. Just past the middle of the show I found out
what that seat and candle were for. In a
touching ceremony, a midshipman lit the candle to commemorate those who once
sat in that chapel and then went on to die in service of our country.
After that the show took a turn. It was still polished and professional, but it
became a worship service glorifying God and celebrating Jesus and all those who
lay down their lives for the ones they love.
Our hearts soared. Those few moments on Halloween in Annapolis
felt just like Christmas.
Oliver Shows His
Machismo
My grandson Oliver displays the heart and soul of an
artist. His early skills with paint,
music and words are amazing to me. I
can’t wait to see how they manifest themselves as the years go by.
Oliver seems different than my older grandsons. He is as quiet as they are loud. He seems as gentile as they are
boisterous. Sam and Charlie like to play
to win. Oliver likes to play for the
sake of play. I love the differences.
On the Sunday before Christmas Oliver was running in the
park trying to catch up to his older cousins.
When he tripped and fell, I didn’t think much of it, but when my son
Whit and I got to him and turned him over, his face looked like a horror movie. There was blood everywhere.
Sam and Charlie were stunned. Whit swept to action and ran with Oliver
toward the house. I ran behind with
visions of the emergency room in my head.
The calmest one in the group was Oliver. He told his dad he didn’t have to run. At the house he accepted the peroxide on his
wound like a soldier. I could not
imagine either of the older boys—or me for that matter—displaying that level of
peace in the midst of chaos.
My grandson Oliver is an artist. A tough one.
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