2010

Lynn

My Father-In-Law, Lynn, was an amazing man who taught me much about faith in God. He underwent many challenges in his life, yet never questioned the love of his Savior. Many people have asked if he had been ill. He had been sick for quite some time. When my wife Chrissy was in high school in Crandall her father was in an industrial accident that left him with 3^rd degree burns over 90% of his body. He was taken to Parkland Hospital where he stayed for nearly a year. The doctors told the family that he would surely not survive such a trauma. They administered an experimental drug that helped his recovery but left him completely deaf. He developed a staph infection during this time as well that would plague him for the rest of his life. Although he was not given any chance of survival, he surprised everyone and eventually was able to live as a self sufficient man.

The first time I met Lynn I had recently begun dating his oldest daughter and I learned that I was going to have the chance to meet him. I really liked this girl and wanted to make a good impression. Chrissy had told me the story of his accident and subsequent hearing loss, so I did what any genius would do. I walked to him shook his hand and yelled, “HELLO MR. GUERNSEY, I’M CLINT STEPHENSON AND I’M DATING YOUR DAUGHTER!”

He looked at and said, “I’m deaf. I can’t hear you.” Thus beginning our relationship in which I’m sure he hoped his daughter would find someone with an ounce of brains. I'm not sure I ever fully recovered from that initial meeting

Several years ago Lynn was diagnosed with Parkinson ’s disease and with each visit we could see the effects of the disease on his body. Every January he would come and stay in our home with us for several weeks and with each visit we could see there was less and less of him. Yet he continued the practice I had seen him do each day on each visit. He would sit at our kitchen table for hours and study his bible. He never failed to attend church with us, and when he was at home although he couldn’t hear what was happening he knew that being in the company of other Christians and being in worship was vital for the believer. Someone teased me in the hallway that he was probably blessed that he never had to hear me preach.

Last year a great blessing occurred when Chrissy and two of her sisters were able to take him on a dream trip for them all to Ireland. The girls took turns pushing his wheelchair from castle to castle and site to site. Being with his daughters probably meant more to him than seeing the beautiful country. I know this will be a memory never forgotten or undervalued bythem.

Through all of his troubles I never once heard him complain.

At his funeral my daughter Caitlin sang a song, “This Is My Temporary Home.” I was about to preach the funeral message as I listened to her beautiful voice sing powerful words when I realized that this was the first time he ever got to hear his granddaughter sing. He was well. Although we’ll miss him as we said, “goodbye,” all of us knew that because of his faith in our amazing Lord, he went home, and by faith we’ll see him later. Maybe next time we meet I’ll remember not to yell.

So, thank you Lynn for allowing me to marry your daughter, my best friend. And thank you for teaching me more about faith than I’ll ever be able to teach in a lifetime.

Fear and Triumph

I learned years ago that fear can completely paralyze us. I learned it from a four foot ramp built for jumping bicycles. It seemed like it was the highest thing that you could possibly launch a two wheeled vehicle from into the great abyss of nothingness. I sat on the seat of my bike watching as my friends made jump after jump from that wooden monster feeling like I couldn't.

After being taunted by boy after boy I decided action was necessary. I aligned my flying bike in the right place, took a deep breath and started peddling toward the ramp. I still remember my heart pounding, my mind racing, my instincts taking over as I went up the ramp. Then I did the stupidest thing that you can do. I hit the brakes.

I skidded up the ramp until at the top the bike flipped off the end of that ridiculous wooden ramp and I landed on my face at the bottom. Boys can't cry in front of their friends no matter how much blood you spilled, how bad you hurt, or how embarrassed. So I went inside our home and sat on my bed leaving my bike and hurt feelings laying at the bottom of the ramp. It was that day that I learned how you stare down fear.

It was that particular event that taught me when you are afraid of something you can own it or it owns you. Those are the moments that make you or brake you. It was then I learned that when things scare you it's time to try it again, and do it better the second time. So I rode at the ramp and didn't hit the brakes, landed on the other side terrified but triumphant.

Years later I stood at the bottom of an old telephone pole on a ropes course feeling the same butterflies I felt when I was a child looking at the bike ramp. It wasn't pretty, graceful, or courageous looking as I made my ascent to the top of the pole, but the victory is in taking each step when you're scared to death. Ramps and used up old telephone poles don't get to beat us.

In life, the things that scare us deserve for us to stare them down and beat them, and when we land at the other end we're triumphant. Our Savior prayed in a garden that there was another way than the path that led him to the cross, and in the end, he owned our sin and shame on a wooden cross that could not conquer him. Thanks be to God that on the other side, because of His Son's courage, we end up triumphant.

A Simple Wink

I heard from a friend, "We're our own best critic."

As I sit in the sanctuary on Sunday morning, fretting over my ability to communicate a good sermon I do several things. I pray the same prayer silently, just as a baseball player has his normal, perhaps superstitious routines that make you feel right about what you're about to do. I look at the congregation to remind myself that someone especially needs to hear the message that day. I remind myself that someone out there doesn't know how much God loves them.

Then...

I look at my son Connor. He always winks at me.

I asked him a couple of years ago why he winks at me during the church service, and with a bit of annoyance he answered,

"Dad... Everytime I ever went to bat on the baseball field I looked at you and you always winked. It means you can do it. When I struck out I looked at you and you always winked. It means it's okay." It's amazing how much I can learn from my children.

It was then that I began to see the sunrise as God's wink. God telling me that no matter how the day goes He tells me His love and grace is for me.

It's amazing to imagine, but a wink that is so easy, is so powerful. One wink from a 10 year-old boy that I happen to love can drown out all the critics, even the one in my head.

Wink.

Best Friends

I learned about friendship in many ways, and all of them were good. No, they were great.

I've had several best friends throughout my life that have shared love, laughter, tears, sorrow, and triumph with me over many years.

I hear my daughter talk about bff's and watch her text message them on her phone and her computer through facebook. It made me think about my best friends throughout my own life, what they mean to me, and why friendship is important. Maybe even more than important... Vital.

I suppose that I met my first best friends without even understanding it. My Mom and Dad loved me unconditionally first, without understanding or comprehending how much they loved and cared for me. I'm sure that in the midst of their love I didn't realize how I created smiles, tears, frustration, and pride in their heart and soul.

When I was 5 years old I met another best friend, his name was Cory. I didn't understand at the time what friendship meant, I just knew how it felt. Cory died when we were 5 years old in a car accident. It didn't make sense to me, but how would it make sense to a 5 year-old boy, but I guess I learned what it meant to have a friend and learn about loss and perhaps grief.

That same year I met another guy that is a best friend. My brother David was born that year. I used to frustrate those parents of mine by figuring out had to drag a chair to his baby bed and pull him out of it so I could spend time with him. He was born eight days before my birthday, and couldn't think of a better birthday present. Well, the swing set I got and the backyard birthday party was better at the time, but I learned it was secondary to the baby in the house and in my heart. He continues to be a brother, best friend, and a source of unconditional love and acceptance.

I met Trey in Junior High School. He became another best friend. We did all the things that teen aged boys do that parents don't need to know about, but that we still laugh about and pray that our children won't do like we did. We went through girlfriends, heart ache, High School, College, and beyond. We shared an apartment that was disgustingly marked with the sign of single young men trying to figure out who they were. We had more fun together, fought with each other, and fought those whomever messed with either of us.

On August 13th of 1993 I met a new best friend. I didn't realize it at the time, but Chrissy would be the best friend of my life, and would become my wife. I loved being with her, sharing my deepest secrets, fears, and victories. The heart doesn't explain to our minds what love is, it just fills our spirit so full that we can't imagine how we don't burst. She introduced me to two young ones named Caitlin and Connor that showed me further how your heart can stretch further than you can imagine it ever could. Chrissy recently reminded me that, "home," is wherever WE are. She is so right that being at home with the best friends in life is one of the greatest blessings ever.

Whenever I sing the hymn, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," I'm reminded that I met a friend, better yet, a Savior in the midst of life. To realize that Jesus is a friend is an amazing, awe inspiring, humbling, knee buckling, heart filling event in life. Many of my friends don't realize that Jesus not only loves us, but He likes us as well. This friend of mine, has seen EVERYTHING I've ever done, heard EVERYTHING I've ever said, and know EVERYTHING I've ever thought. He still loves me and has never walked away from me. When I've turned my back on Him and His ways, there He was right beside me.

Lord Jesus, make me the friend to those around me, as you've been the friend to me who gave everything to make me know your love.

A Team is a Family. A Family is a Team.

Tonight I had the best time in many moons. Sitting around tables with church members during pie and pancakes with the Pastor meetings for the last few weeks and getting to sit at the table at the Colliers home and seeing the EPCC team and family was the best. Eating great food, laughing, talking, spending time with people that I have learned to care more deeply for, while being cared about and loved by our church family reminded me of something vitally and eternally important:

Can we win the battle? The battle of spiritual slide? Can we remind many, many people that Jesus is bigger than the battles that drag us down? Can we bring in those folks who need to hear how much God loves us?

I don't think so.

I know it!

Thanks to the Colliers, Custers, and McGinniss folks for the family/team dinner!

Let's keep tearing it up so they'll know we were here.

Mulligans and Do-Overs

I preach a lot about the opportunity for moving forward in the shadow of a past mistake. Sometimes, I don't listen to my own preaching. I've been told by a few people that I use sports euphemisms too often but here goes:

When you throw an interception, don't hang your head. Go back out on the field with sharper vision.

When you serve up a homerun, don't cry. Get back to the mound and throw your best stuff.

When you shoot an air-ball, don't shy away from the ball. Seek the pass and look for nothing but net.

When you strike-out, don't throw your helmet. Be calm and know you'll have another at bat.

When you miss a block, grit your teeth and slam it harder.

When you roll a gutter ball, well, you're bowling so you were probably drunk. Aim at the middle of the thirty pens.

When you hit it in the rough, figure it out.

When you miss a putt. Study it harder next time.

Never forget, curling and NASCAR, are truly sports.

Inspire your team. Be you, but, be the best you. Don't let the outside voices become the inside torture. I'm preaching, but I'm listening.

"We don't carry an 'S' on our chest. We just wear a star on our helmet and try to do the best job we can."
-Dallas Cowboys running back Emmit Smith, after rushing for just 69 yards in a season-opening 37-7 WIN over Pittsburgh, 1997.

And oh, I almost forgot. If you score a triple-bogey at Putt-Putt. Quit. Take your colored ball and freaky putter back to the counter and try to beat someone at Galaga or Pac-Man.

Sometimes... A lot of times...

I awaken in the night thinking of my family. I always touch, Chrissy, my wife, LIGHTLY...don't awaken her purposely. I walk the halls of the home and spend time praying. I call my children my kiddos, and someone recently told me how disrespectful that it was to call them such names. Wrong.
I always stop at the door and listen to them breathe, in...out...in...out...Beautiful. I pray that the room is filled with the Holy Spirit that fills them. I can't imagine the power Who was there and is still there always when I baptized them both with God's Spirit filling their hearts. I'm just glad I got to be there, and fill in. Sorry Ms. T. I know I just finished a sentence with a preposition, please don't tell the coaches AGAIN.
I'm so blessed to have the family that I have to call mine even when some yell back at me, tell me, "no," when I meant yes, or don't agree with my thoughts. Even when my kiddos get their own ideas, they're still always in my heart, BIG. That's why I stop every night at their doors, hold on tight and pray harder than I ever understood before I knew those little toots.
They'll grab your heart more than you ever figured, huh?
I thought, I crashed motorcycles, broke bones on football fields and softball fields, lost fist fights, won more fist fights, broke more bones, lost games, blah, blah, blah, blah... But nothing hurt more than seeing my kids cry, hurt, or be sick. They're just amazing.
Someday, I hope they know that their weird Dad, who stood at their door and holding on tight praying for them know I would do anything for them, and prayed to the One who can do anything through and with them. That's my prayer.
I will say, a broken know's hurt's a bunch huh?

The days that lose you....The days you lose

There are days that seem to lose you. You can't find your keys, someone's upset with you, your truck doesn't start, you rip your pants. You know those days. They're the ones that you wish would fly by so that a new, more hopeful day would fill it's place. When you encounter those days in the midst of the maze of the 24 hour delineation period we tend not to value the experience, opportunities, lessons, or much else.
I can think of numerous nights I was awakened by a crying child while mumbling to myself that it would be another sleepless night. As my teen-aged daughter approaches the time to drive, I imagine I'll have a new kind of sleepless night ahead.
That maze of the day I wish would disappear often is the crucible in which we learn the most important lessons, even if we don't want to learn. We learn the twists and turns of life and when to turn left even if we think we're right. It is in the midst of life that we learn to live, and the lessons aren't usually easy to swallow. However, in the maze of life is the One who made us, watching us struggle and stumble, walk and run, even fall. He's right beside us throughout, never leaving us alone, but he does not share our same vantage point. He walks with us, but knows the turns in the maze. Listen.

The funny thing about those days that lose us is how we react. I find that far too often I've lost a day of learning, growing, and changing while I pout about a day that lost me. I complain that it wasn't my fault. So what? I could chalk up the mistake to ignorance. Does it matter now? I could even own up to my faults and still allow the rest of the day to slip by unnoticed while focusing on the past transgressions, what good does that do?

So, when life gets heavy and you encounter one of those days that lose you, don't lose the rest of the day. I've got a prayer that I've begun saying lately that is simple:

Lord help me to move on and beyond.


Simple I know, but for me true and heartfelt. Don't lose the days that lose you, because they're valuable and filled with the promise of new. I wish I knew now how beautiful a babies cry in the night is when I was hearing them then. I guess we live and learn in the maze that is life.

Connor and Lola

I called my wife this afternoon as has become my habit to see how the day had been for her and the kids. When she answered I could tell the afternoon had not been kind. The tone of her voice indicated something was wrong but she said things were fine, I knew differently. As her voice cracked she said, "I told Connor today that we can't take Lola with us when we move." We're leasing a house and Lola is a nightmare of a one year old puppy full of love, energy and destructive ability. According to the lease we couldn't take her with us regardless, so we're finding her a good home before we go.

"Great timing Dad," I thought as I heard Connor crying in the background. In a ten-year-old's mind being separated from every friend he's ever known was bad enough but to leave his Black Lab behind was the icing on the cake of one tough day. I asked to speak to him, but he didn't want to talk. I understand, sometimes I don't want to talk either, and in his mind I was the reason Lola was staying in Lubbock as he moved to a strange new place. Chrissy put on the speaker phone and I said to him, "Bud, I know this is a tough time for you, and you can be angry with me if you want, that's understandable. But know that I love you and I always will, and hopefully someday you'll understand that we did the right thing. If I were there I would give you a big hug."

Connor said, "I wouldn't let you!"

Lessons come at us daily and fast paced. As I thought about Connor and the move he's looking at in the future, and the man (me) he feels is, "causing," it, I realize that I too know that I look to my Father in Heaven and know he loves me even when I'm scared or angry. But I know that God in His infinite love had his Son stretch open his arms and in so doing He wrapped his love around me.

My son doesn't know it, but his Dad's heart was aching for a boy named Connor saying goodbye to who is loved and familiar, to move without choice to a new place. But when we look back we'll know that faithfulness is the best option.

By the way, Connor did ask his Mom to call his Grandparents to see if he could live with them.

Being a Part of Greatness!

Greatness is saying that, "Jesus is the Christ, The Son of God, and my Lord and Savior."

Looking Back

I was sitting beside my Grandmother and my son Connor today waiting for the musical, "Into the Woods," to begin. My daughter Caitlin had one of the lead roles as Cinderella. I had to get on the road back to my new home in Mesquite, Texas, and was ready for the show to get on the road.
The lights finally dimmed and it was only a few minutes until I saw her. My Caitlin, in her gown fit for a ball and Cinderella slippers that made her look like, well, uh, a young lady. This was not my beautiful little chubby cheeked girl I brought to Lubbock eleven years ago. The actress, singer, and dancer was a beautiful lady closer to leaving her Daddy's home than she was yesterday. I fought back tears and watched a brilliant matinee performance. I kissed her cheek when the show was over and told her I had to get back home to work. I got in my truck to head East, and fought back more tears.
I reached Weatherford and pulled off the Interstate to get gas and a Diet Coke. When I walked into the doors of the convenience store I was stricken with a vision. Thirteen years ago I walked through the same doors of this same convenience store one very early Christmas morning on the way to Lubbock to spend Christmas with my parents. Caitlin was a 1-1/2 month old infant, sleeping in her car seat in the back seat of our Ford Explorer. I couldn't believe how beautiful she and her mother were, nor, how blessed I was to have them be my girls. I wish now that I would have understood how important it was to gather up memories and store them in my heart.
I've had more time alone lately on the road to think more than I ought, but I've learned a lot about myself and life in general in those lonely moments with only the highway and my Lord.
Nearly 11 years ago, I moved back to Lubbock with a 2-year-old and a pregnant wife. Now I've moved away while the kids finish school and Chrissy gets a house... no, a home ready sell. I miss them every day and cherish the brief times we're together lately.
I've thought about the good times we've celebrated in that home together. Bringing home a tiny son and little brother. Birthday parties. Back yard fun. Teaching kids to catch and throw. Cooking barbecue on the back porch. Building the worlds worst back fence. Loving and being loved by an awesome church in Westmont. Having my kids get to live close to Grandparents that love them unflinchingly and have a special relationship with them. Hugging my wife and kids and meaning it with more than I can express with words. There are so many good times and victories in our home in my hometown, and the adopted hometown of my wife.
I've recounted the challenges that we've been through as a family. I thanked God aloud on numberous occassions that God has brought Chrissy, Caitlin and Connor through surgeries, a terrible car accident, and craziness. I thought about the opportunities, too many to count on all the fingers in the world, that I missed as a husband, father, son, and minister. I wished for all of them back, but they're gone. Now filled with an unknown number of tomorrows. Perhaps God was reminding me to stop wasting opportunities and chances.
Chances to be the husband that my wife deserves. Opportunities to be the Dad that I must be.
Times to be the son and grandson that I should strive for often. The time to be the minister to which I'm called. I felt a sense of loss that couldn't be taken away, what I like to call, "the paralyzing power of...if only."
A big part of the regret is that I didn't fully relish my time with family, church, and friends, until I watched, as another Lubbock boy said, "Lubbock in my rearview mirror."
Speaking of rearview mirrors. I walked out of the convenience store off the Interstate in Weatherford I hopped in the truck and remembered that the same teenaged beautiful Cinderella on stage hours ago was the same one I focused my rearview mirror on all the way to Lubbock in the middle of the night. I still remember somewhere around Abilene seeing my baby girl getting restless with an exhausted wife sleeping in the passenger seat. I reached back with my right hand, putting it on her brand new little leg and she sighed.
It may not be manly, but when I thought of all behind us as a family, I cried half-way to Fort Worth. The thing is I cried out of gratitude and love, not despair. I wouldn't trade those times nor loved ones for anything, even if things have to change. A broken heart means you love deeply enough to hurt, even in good ways.
Oh, what I'd give to hear that sigh again. But, as I've said before, driving while staring in the rearview mirror can be dangerous...unless you're staring at Caitlin or a Connor with Chrissy beside you.

Grown-Up?

I'll bet when you were a child someone asked you, "What would you like to be when you grow up?" I know I've spoken to my children about what paths they will take on the road to adulthood, or as often said, when they're grown up.

I looked out at the congregation at both services on Sunday morning and saw a lot of people with varying degrees of experience, age, education, income, and more. However, I didn't see one single grown up. Not one.

The title,"grown-up," seems to indicate a finality that doesn't exist. It tends to say that someone is finished growing. As we walk with our Lord, we must continue to grow until the day that we get to finish the race that is life.

I think of my children coming home from school exhausted from the day of learning reading, writing, and arithmetic but wanting to play with their friends. We need those times of play and rest, but still school shows up the next day with more to learn. So let's make sure that even if we spend times in play to refresh our souls, we acknowledge our need to keep going to school to be filled with God's Spirit.

Someday, God will call out to us, just as my wife calls our kids, to come home. Until that time let's grow and play as hard as we can because night comes sooner than we imagine. Then however, we get to sit at His table for a banquet we can't imagine.

You're not a grown up yet...you're only growing up, until you take the seat at that table.

Pictures That Matter

Did you ever look at a picture that made you feel good? Photo's are good, but the best are the ones made out colors, markers, and pencils that make you remember there are artists that want to make you feel good about how good of a Daddy you could be if you try really hard.

I've been looking at crayon scratch more precious than Picasso's ridicularity lately. Everytime I see those kiddo artworks, I feel bigger than I ought to ever get to feel.

Red Double T's, stick figures, and hearts drawn with pink crayons are the best things that were ever invented. Folks thought Einstein was smart, and perhaps he was, but my kids know how to draw pure genius on copier paper.

I can picture both of them working hard on each masterpiece, tongue sticking out sideways, making a difference to a Dad who doesn't deserve such a blessing.

Caity-Bug. Rufus. How'd you learn to draw such inspiration?

A New Cel Phone is FUN!

I didn't think about it until the last few days since I hadn't changed any kind of phone numbers in over a decade. I got the introduction to phone number change 9.0 for dummies in the last few days. You never know who had your new phone number yesterday.

I have to edit so much of this, but still, it made me laugh hard enough to break another rib or seven.

I saw I had missed a call from a phone in my new area code and thought it was probably a church member or somebody who needed to speak with me. Boy, was I wrong!

"What!" Came the voice on the other end of the line. I was taught at age 1/3 years not to be such a goober!

"Hello, this is Clint, I missed a call from this number, how may I help you?"

"I'll tell you fairy, put, "Lexi," on the phone...I know where you are, and I'll come over there and you'll be sorry." said the friendly gent on the other side of the conversation.

I was confused for a few moments at this point. It was then that I realized what was happening. I inherited quite a rich and rewarding cel phone number in the 214 area code, and, "Lexi," must've been Mayor or something important in the past here.

My answer, "I think you have the wrong number. I just got this cel phone and you must be calling an old cel phone num..." I couldn't finish.

"SHUT UP! Put her on the phone now or I'll come find you and you'll be sorry!" said big man...

"What's your name?" I responded. I think it's important to know about your friends.

"Huh? Just tell her it's billy." I refuse to capitalize his name. That's not Christian of me.

I tried to tell him over and over how he called the wrong number, "billette," just wouldn't listen. That's when my childish instincts kicked in.

I pretended, and said, "Hey Lexi, it's billete...do you want to talk to him? No...Sorry billette she thinks you're rude."

He lost his mind. Laughing at him made him madder and madder until he told me how he was going to beat me up. He did ask, "Are you big?" I just said, "Bigs relative." billette said, "what's that mean?"

They make clown shoes for everyone don't they? Don't forget the big red nose or you'll look more foolish, "billette."

I gained composure and ended the call. I thought maybe I would just be able to resume my day, but the phone kept on ringing...It was the aforementioned, "billette," henceforth known as NUTCASE...I'll use the initial, "N."

Finally after 15 calls from, "N," I answered. He continued his profanity laced anger-fest. So I said, "Here's the deal... I have already called the Dallas Police Department and they know your cel number. Don't hurt anybody because they know how to find you."

"N" said, "When I find you I'll throw this phone against your head and you'll be sorry!"

Then genius happened. I responded, "That's what they said you'd say. Your phone has a GPS in it and they can find you, and if you leave it behind, you'll still have GPS residue on your hands and face...they'll find you!"

"You serious?" asked, "N"

I'm serious Clark!

Greatness

I met with a group of old friends recently for lunch. When the chatter died down, plates pushed away, a question was asked that created a silence at the table that was deafening.

"What's the greatest thing you've ever done?"

There's nothing like asking a bunch of middle-aged men such a question. For some, memories of high school championships and college conquests come to mind. Others were thrown again to the demons of despair at the thought they've never accomplished anything great. Then there was, "Bruce." He didn't stop eating long enough to be able to hear any questions, or utter anything that a human could discern as language. Sometimes I wish I could be a, "Bruce," focused completely on chicken-fried steak until the plate is clean, then on to the next task with no hint of reflection. However, it's not in the cards for me.

I started to think about things in the rear-view mirror. I could take the fun route and talk about the wild times in college... No, I don't think ANY of those times were great in hindsight. I listened to the others and heard my name mentioned a few times in those old stories and cringed and laughed a few times.

I could talk about education or work experience. Neither seemed the way to go for my time at the round table, (it was actually rectangular, but we knights fancy ourselves sitting around ROUND tables).

What I didn't want to mention was my stellar stats for coaching youth football, or getting tossed from my son's baseball game while I coached him. Lord help me, never mention how great a soccer coach I was years ago. Four year old girls can be mean!

It was while I was listening to the others tell their tales I thought, "I don't know the greatest thing I've ever done...I'm not finished yet." Some tend to look backward more than forward. I don't know yet what God will do with, for, and through me. Sometimes, "great," can't be measured either. I look at life as a great internship, ending in a graduation to our new home created for us by the One who loves us most. As scripture tells us sometimes we fly, sometimes we run, and at times it's alright to walk, but all of those descriptions imply forward movement.

So I'll just keep going, hoping that I won't spend time figuring out how great life has already been. That question has an element of, "quitterism," in it. See there, I just made up a new word. I wonder what else I'll do today.

New

Now that I find myself in a new city I have to find out the important things. Where do I get a haircut? Is there a dry-cleaner close to the church to clean my clothes? Who will change the oil in my truck if there's no Bolton's Oil Change? Where do I get a good greasy cheap cheeseburger in paradise? I keep changing the channel on my television and I can't find Karen and Abner at 10 o'clock on any channel! (Only the folks from the sacred land that is Lubbock will understand that remark)

The question is simply, "Where am I?" It's a frightening experience to wonder where you are. Feeling lost is not pleasant. I have asked myself that question many times in the last month. Where am I? I think we all ask that question at one time or another. Possibly some ask that question on many occasions.

Last night I turned the AC in the hotel room down to a balmy 50 degrees and jumped in bed. When I woke the clock said, 3:01...I tried to sleep. I couldn't. I tossed, turned, turned on the TV, turned off the TV. Did you realize they sell food dehydration machines at 4 AM? Looked out the window, it was dark.

Finally I knelt beside my bed and prayed.

"Lord, I know you're awake. I don't want to sleep in this room again without my family. I'm afraid of the task ahead of me. I don't feel like I can do what I think I'm called to do. I don't know how to lead this new flock. Did I mention I miss Chrissy and the kids? I just need your help. Please."

As I opened my bible the next morning I read the words from Genesis 12, "And go to the land I will show you." I had preached on that passage a few weeks ago, and it still ticks me off.

God is good. He makes the way.

Homeless Batman

My son Connor dressed as Batman for Halloween when he was three years old. Then he dressed in the same Batman suit for the next two years. EVERY DAY! He wore his cowboy boots, bat man suit, and drove his battery operated Harley up and down the street.

When I couldn't find him once, I was asked by a neighborhood kid, "Hey, you batman's dad?"

"Yes, where IS batman?"

He was at the park...which when you're 4 it's completely acceptable to drive a mini-battery powered Harley across three intersections to get to the park so you can play on monkey bars and swing. Why? Because you're wearing a worn out supersuit! Looking like the homeless version of a super hero. The shield of invincibility.

You and I all wear worn-out supersuits with shields of invincibility. Unlike my son, who wore his with pride, we hide behind them. We teach our kids to color inside the lines, then they grow up. They put away those real life super suits, and pick up baggage.

I say it's time to whistle the, "Andy Griffith Show," theme song, put on our grown-up super suit, color outside of the lines, and put down the bags. Just a thought.

What I Love!

Barbecue
French fries and mustard
NASCAR
College football
My best friends
Mint chocolate chip ice cream
Peeps
The shotgun from my Dad
Baseball
Seeing people fall if they don't get hurt
Greeting cards
Playing catch
Dogs
Whipping the day and feeling good I did
Restrooms
Flight Attendants that bring another Diet Coke
Irons and starch
Creased Wranglers or slacks...the way they should be worn
The smell of clean
A Greasy burger with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions.....
Heinz 57
Shiner Bock, and it's lesser cousins
Soap and the shower I have
Men who take off their hats and caps inside of the building/house
Those who pull their pants up and wear them appropriately...Don't care what your undies look like outside your pants
Cottage cheese
Steak
Spaghetti
My honorary jerseys
The chances I've been blessed with
Pineapples
Pencils and paper
Telephones with a cord attached
Ernest Hemingway
People who shut up on a flight
Boiled shrimp, crawfish, and friends
Whipped Cream
Standing up and making the loser sit down
Towels
Toilet paper
Coca-Cola
Movies that make me think and laugh...or just laugh or think.
ESPN
Smokey and the Bandit
Working
DVD's
My mountain bike
Catcher in the Rye
My Motorcycle
Coaching kids that I lead and learn to love
Preaching to kids I lead and learn to love
My In-Laws...what in the world?
My Mom and Dad
Caitlin
Connor
Chrissy

Those are a few...just thought I'd share.

If I was able.

I would make a new world and fix it, except I can't even fix a sink or a car.

I would want too many people to get along, share popcorn, and smile at each other.

I would try to make a movie that would make us all laugh out loud... All of us, not just the men.

I would make sure babies didn't get sick. I wouldn't bury another child, regardless of the age while looking at the swollen eyes of a mother or father.

I would find the ones who like to hurt other people with words, actions, or bullets and kill 'em. Wait a minute...that doesn't work.

I would decree exercise a sin, and me being fattish a non-truth.

I would make breakfast a daily omelette filled with bacon, lunch out of chocolate, and supper filled with steak, thus violating the previous statement.

I would ensure no one ever was thirsty, nor hungry.

I would make a machine that let us go back and love those with a love we needed to speak and show. Ask forgiveness. And fix what needed fixing.

I'm not God. He is. Always has always been. He loves us, forgives us, fixes our needs. I have to quit wishing I could be Him. I would have the earth spinning backward.

Wait...would that be cool? NO! We'd all get sick.

A Day to Remember

Days of remembrance can be filled with terror, anxiety, happiness, sadness, joy, or even brokenness. Today was such a day. I think perhaps I may have owned all of those sentiments. I stood in a new pulpit, as a new pastor for the first time in over ten years. I haven't sweat that much since my last workout, in full football pads! I was surprised, even humbled, but filled with a desire to take care of business in a way to honor God and His Church.

I stood in a pulpit graced for over three decades by a great man, Dan Carroll, who was, is, and always will be truly loved and respected. Brother Dan as his congregation called him is obviously a man filled with love for his fellow man as well as his flock. To spend over 30 years loyally serving a congregation, burying loved ones, marrying friends, baptizing, counseling, studying, sharing, and caring is a massive task.

I know what it feels like to love a group of amazing people, making up God's church for only a third of that time, and my heart is filled with aching and loss. I love the congregation to whom I said goodbye, and those who know me, know that love is not a word that I use without meaning. Moving on to a new land, a new people, and a new adventure was a frightening prospect, But I walk with God, His rod and His staff comforting me.

I thought that the Easter celebration began with a task soaked with terror, anxiety, happiness, sadness, joy, brokenness, and blood. The empty tomb began with a whip, a crown of thorns, a cross, thieves, screaming, taunting, hate, violence, and the love of a servant Savior. The end result was the glory of God!

I pray that in the years to come, knowing that I now have four congregations that I call family, I will take a strong hold of the realm of emotion for the glory of God, to honor my servant Savior and Lord. Christ is risen, He is risen indeed!

He'll be risen tomorrow as well. He was, He is, He is to come!

Jesus Wept...

Easiest scripture to quote ever! Used it.

Most amazing scripture to ponder. God weeps with us in our shortfalls, hurts, and lifeness. A made up word I know. It's okay.

We live in a broken world. Sin and horrible stuff happens every morning, afternoon, and, evening. I watch too much TV, listen to more sports radio than I should. It helps and hurts. It reminds me who we are and we can be.

Tomorrow, when you get up, are you going to kick tail or not?

I'm going to try my best. I'll try to make Father, my Dad, my mentors, and others proud. I bet I will.

Jesus is willing to cry with us, but, He'd rather laugh with us a lot!

Some Days

Some days we wake up in the morning and decide that it's probably not going to be a good day. Then usually we spend the day making sure that we make the day what we proclaimed. Those are what I like to call the, "stupid days of life." We don't need to look in the mirror in the morning so that we can tell that person the day won't work out.

Some days we wake up in the morning and realize that yesterday wasn't the best day and let it get us down. We look backward and spend a day as if we were driving through life staring at a rear view mirror. Man, why not just decide to cause a wreck.

Some days we wake up in the morning and know that there's a bigger job than we can handle ahead. Those who are smart don't look in the mirror. Instead, they look up. God's bigger than those days and that job, and He's already at the scene.

Some days we wake up feeling like a rock star. Ego out of balance. Most of those days for me end up with life knocking me back into reality. Thankfully.

But, the blessing is we wake up. We get busy. We do what we were created to do. At the end of the day, hopefully, we can look in the mirror, be thankful, look up and thank the One who made the day.

Taking Pictures

I've always made sure to take mental pictures that warm my heart when times can be cold. Mental pictures can't be burned, stolen, or lost. I take tons of mental pictures. The time I hit that curveball over the fence. The chance I had to ride an angry bull...hurt. When I slapped the angry bull, hurt more...I shouldn't have slapped him with my face.

Running marathons, hurt in the good way.

My heart tore wide open in an amazingly loving way watching my kiddos be born. Seeing them made me a better man.

Yelling at the ref, forgetting to be a better man, getting thrown out of the gym and the ballpark was a picture I took to learn and grow.

I took the picture today when I plunged my son into baptismal waters. It set my heart on fire with a spark I needed to know again.

I looked around the sanctuary today, on my last day in the WCC pulpit taking pictures. I saw you. I love you. I took those pictures. I miss you already.

'Tis Better to Give And Receive

We've all heard the phrase, "It is better to give than to receive." As a child I thought that was the dumbest phrase I had ever heard. Honestly, opening a wrapped package was better than watching my Grandmother open her gift in my opinion.

As I grew, although I fear I'll never quite be a, "grown-up," thank God, I came to understand the sentiment of the phrase more and more. I will admit that I love to watch my children and wife receive gifts from me more than anything I could receive from them. Their smiles, excitement, and joy warms my heart and soul more than anything I could receive as their gift to me. In that case, it is truly better to give than to receive.

However, there is one gift that is better to give and receive. Love.

I can't think of a deeper feeling that I have within the core of my being than true love for another. That feeling is one of the past, present, and future. The true love of another gives us hope and makes us hurt. True love can at times be as warm as a quilt over your lap, and bone-chilling as a freezing wind.

Good and bad. Love is truly better to give, and who doesn't want to receive it?

"I love you honey," is a phrase that I say, and sometimes when I hear it I'm shaken back to the reality of what love is and what love does.

"Dad," is a title fraught with love and responsibility.

So thank you to the ones who taught me what love is all about. Mostly, my Mom and Dad, who first loved me before I could comprehend what love is all about. Who showed me what it is to love one another in good times and not so good times. You showed me in the flesh what God is all about.

I love to love, in good times and bad. And, I always hope and pray to receive it back. What a gift!

Feeling Good About Sitting

I sat in the symphony hall, dress jacket across my knees, Saturday afternoon, Dallas, Texas. I had been before, but different. Seated between my son and wife on the, "Dress Circle," Level of the Mortenson Symphony Center waiting for house lights to dim and the concert to begin.

When the second choir of the afternoon arrived on stage I looked anxiously and expectantly to see my daughter. When I saw her step onto the stage, my heart sunk. That was the baby that cried in the night, the little crawler, the toddler who made messes. She was the same Kindergarten student. Lunch each Friday at school, I brought her, "Taco Bell."

That was the same girl who told her Mom in tears after school, "Trevor said he wanted to be my boyfriend, and DADDY says I can't have a boyfriend 'till I'm OLD!"

That beautiful young lady in the concert attire is the same little girl who couldn't wait to dance with her Uncle "Dido" at his wedding reception. Her chubby little cheeks were gone, and the cute kiddo was replaced with the beautiful young lady.

This one on stage rolls her eyes at me. She sometimes accidentally says to me, "Dude, what's your problem?" EXCUSE ME?!?!

She's the one who crawled into my lap when she was two years old, begging for her beloved pacifier that was taken from her for good that day. With her two little pudgy hands on my cheeks she looked into my eyes and said, "Daddy, I don't want to be a big girl. Can I have my, "baba?""

The little lady who I took to Daddy day at Cotillion.

The little toot who reintroduced me to Happy Meals, and taught me about Hello Kitty, Barbies, and tea parties. Who wore plastic high heals and floppy hats, with gaudy fake pearls.

This is the one beside whose bed I sat in the ICU, praying, hoping, wishing, wanting.

In short. My Princess.

I felt good sitting there on a Saturday afternoon because I heard an angelic sounding choir singing.

In the midst, I could hear MY little angel's voice.

Fingerprints

God is guilty. He made us. He can't deny it. His fingerprints are all over us.

God wouldn't deny our creation, nor our existence. I just sometimes wonder in His infinite wisdom why He did it? Didn't He know I was going to steal the Ronald McDonald statue on 50th Street? Didn't He know that, "John," would shoot his cousin over a game of dominoes? Didn't He know that, "Sarah," would hook up with a loser and make meth in her college apartment? Surely he knew that, "Idiot," would get in his car and drive the wrong way on the highway? Come on.

God is guilty of one thing. Creating us with the free will to make choices. He made us. He won't deny us. His fingerprints are all over us. He forgives us for the choices, when we accept His forgiveness.

Now comes our part in this conspiracy. We are to infiltrate all areas of this world. We are to make known the truth that is, "Jesus is Lord!" Those who believe that Jesus is the Christ the Son of the living God, and the one and only Savior, have a job to do today. So do it.

For those who'll be upset by this. Too bad. God is perfect in all ways, He chose to make each of us so that we're able to choose to love Him or not. Truly, God's not guilty of anything at all, except for the deepest love that can't be conceived. What do you want to bet that God's big enough to read this post and not be bothered by it.

Impressions

Impressions are important. Everyone has heard the phrase, "first impression." Our impression on others determines our legacy in their lives. Sometimes the impression is unfair, sometimes earned, but nonetheless it's an indelible mark on the consciousness of another person.

On my first day of seminary I made quite an impression. The day started as a usual day, just earlier as I made my way from Sulphur Springs to the Metroplex. I grabbed my briefcase as I left the house and looked forward to a great day. Little did I know. I sat in the driver's seat of our Ford Explorer, found a good radio station, and hit the road. It was the beginning to an exciting day.

I pulled into the parking lot across the street from the building where my classes were held. I had an evangelism class, church history, and a Hebrew class to attend. I was nervous, excited, and ready to find my classroom and take a seat. I grabbed my briefcase and headed out for new territory.

I stood at the busy intersection waiting for the pedestrian signal to tell me it was alright to walk across the crosswalk. Finally, the green light came and I headed across the street eager to get to class. Four steps into crossing the street, I twisted my ankle causing a stumble that lasted about ten steps until a final wipe-out in the turn lane. During my graceful traverse, I was also able to throw my briefcase while wildly waving my arms in a futile attempt to regain my balance and composure. I kept neither. I picked myself from the asphalt and hurriedly grabbed the books and bag that were strewn around the street while drivers patiently honked their horn at the idiot who was limping around as quickly as he could.

I finally reached the other side and took inventory. Do I have all my books? Check. Is my briefcase broken? Check. Do I have a rip in my slacks? No. Did I rip both knees in my slacks? Check. Is my shirt dirty? Check. Is my ankle swelling at a rapid pace? Check. Do I have any shred of dignity left? Absolutely not.

I made my way inside and found a restroom where I tried to clean up a bit and I noticed that even my tie was torn. How do you tear a necktie accidentally? I'd never heard of such a thing. I can make things happen that mere mortals cannot fathom. After getting in as much order as I could, I made my way to the classroom, found a seat at the back of the class, and readied myself for the initial lecture.

"Good morning," said the chipper professor who looked like a combination of Mr. Rogers and a normal person. "Welcome to my class. Let's start with introductions. Please tell us who you are, where you're serving in ministry, and when you felt called to the ministry."

What!?!? Are you kidding me? I was at a Southern Baptist seminary, I'm not Baptist, I was outnumbered. My mind started racing, "you've got to come up with something good." I was raised Episcopalian and began going to the Christian Church when I was in Jr. High School. I didn't have the cool salvation and calling stories these Baptists were telling. I was at the back of the line, and each successive student seemed to try to top the previous student's "calling" story.

Maybe if I told them I was in prison for a terrible drug habit, burglary, and murder during my day's in the Hell's Angels when a great light knocked me down on the way to Dumas and I heard the voice of God say on June 9th, 1989 at 9:10:11 PM, "Clint, I am your Father!" No. That won't work. So I did the best I could when my time came.

"I'm Clint Stephenson. I'm currently the preaching minister at First Christian Church in Sulphur Springs, Texas."

It was at that moment I felt the inaudible gasps and amazed stares of those who couldn't believe an infidel was among them. It turns out that not all felt that way, but there were some. If you ever meet Brian Wickman, he's a militant Baptist, don't make him angry, he'll condemn you. Anyway I continued with the, "calling," portion of the introduction.

"And I really can't give you a date or time of my calling. I just realized over time that we're all called to follow God in different ways, and my way is to preach." Imagine a room full of people staring at you with their mouths open and crickets chirping in the background. That's what it seemed like anyway.

"Ooooookay...ummm, thank you Mr. Stephenson." said Mr. Rogers' creepy cousin.

You're quite welcome Mr. Rogers. Now why don't you start talking a bit so I can get my money's worth out of this neat little experiment, chop chop.

The lecture started and I settled into note-taking mode, forgetting that I was an infidel wearing torn clothes that smelled like tar. I was writing in a spiral notebook while the guy next to me was typing notes on a laptop. I could almost imagine him going into Best Buy and asking, "Where would I find a laptop computer with the loudest keys ever invented?" Hey, Ham Hand, you reckon you might be able to pound those keys harder?

Finally there came a break time in the class so students could visit the restroom and get some more coffee. I tried to further clean up my impressive wardrobe, grabbed another cup of coffee, and headed back to my back row exile seat after the intermission. Picked up my pen and readied myself for some more fascinating rumination from Mr. Rogers. As the second half of class started I realized it was possible that the professor might look more like Mr. Bean...Anyway....FOCUS! After class ended it was lunch time.

That's when I noticed I had spent the time after the break with a significant portion of my shirt tail sticking out of my partially zipped fly on my pants. IMPRESSIVE! Why don't I just spend my entire time in my afternoon class sitting on the front row eating boogers? What a day. But don't ever say to yourself, "It can't get worse than this." Usually it can.

After breaking my zipper trying to pry my shirt free, eating lunch, and returning to class, there was still a lot of fun headed my way. Nothing will get you energized for an hour long commute home than a Hebrew class with a professor who never actually opens his eyes while speaking. I felt myself nodding off, head bobbing, trying not to drool and further add to my already half-day-long proud legacy.

Class ended. I chatted briefly with some new classmates who were looking at me strangely, but I figured it was due to the events earlier in the day. One admitted he was at the intersection when I performed my rendition of the pavement swan dive. I thanked him for being a spectator. I packed up my belongings and headed out. One last trip to the restroom before hitting the road. As I was washing my hands I looked into the mirror and saw that in my groggy attempt to stay with the class and the head bobbing that went with it I had written four rather long marks on my face with a blue ink pen. Nothing like putting an exclamation mark on the day! Why don't I just streak down the hall on the way to the parking lot to solidify my place in the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary Losers Hall of Shame.

The drive home was nice. Me, the radio, the interstate, and a time to let an impressive performance wear off before I walked into the parsonage to see my wife and baby girl. I pulled into the driveway after dark. Grabbed my bag and coffee cup and walked in the door. As soon as I was in the house, Chrissy asked, "How was your day?"

"Unbelievable," I said.

"That good huh? That's GREAT Honey. I've been praying for you all day," Chrissy said.

"Then quit it."

You're making an impression every day of your life. We stumble and fall, but the more important impression we make is how we get up. Sometimes life causes us to feel torn and tattered, but the Great Physician stitches us back together, and we can tell others about it. We've all got the marks on us of poor decisions and disobedience, but God washes them away with the waters of baptism and the blood of His son.

When I wake up in the morning, I have a routine. Part of that routine is to say to myself audibly, usually in my truck, "You're going to make impressions today, they'll last longer than you know. Make impressions you're proud to make." While you live this day many eyes, ears, minds, and hearts are soaking you up. If you're a follower of Jesus, you have the indelible mark of God on you in salvation. Make a mark today for the Kingdom of God.

Are You Kidding Me?

I took the kids to feed the ducks and geese at the park just a couple of blocks from our home feeling like one of those dads who does duck feeding duty swelling with pride at my "daddyness". I'm taking the kids to the park, again! Look at me! Little did I know.

We got out of the truck with our, "duck bread," to feed the masses. While we were walking I pictured a scene from the movie, "Dawn of the Dead." The ducks and geese were marching with quacks and honks that seemed menacing at best, frightening truly. I made a quick estimate and numbered the approaching waterfowl in the millions, and hungry.

"Get behind me kids!" I yelled as we approached with a brown paper bag filled with treasure.

"INCOMING!" We were in the midst of an assault of aviary proportions.

Then it happened. For the first time I saw my son, at the time four-years old wrestling with a goose much bigger than him, and he was winning. I've never seen such a sight. When the goose bit Connor's overalls, he decided that it was ON! Grabbing the gooses neck started a dance I've never seen. I ran toward him as he struggled with the bully bird.

Caitlin said, "Dad, be careful!" She's too sweet to fight with anything. Certainly never a goose. She was anxiously watching for police to arrive while standing by my truck, praying for the Stephenson men as ladies have done for centuries.

On the way to help I saw him take care of business. With both hands wrapped around the goose's neck, Connor bit the goose back! I'm not kidding or embellishing. My son bit that furious feathered being back! Wings and webbed feet flying, the two parted ways. I almost think I heard, "AFLAC!" as the goose escaped. I hope that the Stephenson family isn't the originator of the bird flu, but who cares. Swine are the offenders these days with their own pork flu.

You know sometimes people say, "you have to take the bull by the horns."

That's a great sentiment. Tried it. Didn't work out well. It was fun, yet still one of my many bad ideas. But, have you ever even tried to, "take a goose by the neck?" If not, Connor can tell you how to tame the situation.

Bite it!

When reality bites you, you have only one choice. Grab life with both hands, and bite back!

When I Grow Up

I

The Cool Quiet Speaks Volumes

When I arise, and it's the middle of the night as they say,

really the earliest of the morning. I just can't sleep, maybe because, who cares.

I touch the shoulder of my best gift, and head to the living room.

I lay on the floor and think of the One who gave me the one who was beside me.

I think of the two gifts called Caitlin and Connor that are in bed, whose audible breathing blesses me, and remember those children who are unwanted and unloved.

I think of the bags of fur named Sammie, Tux, and Lola. Love without strings.

I look up at a ceiling under the roof. His gift to us.

I think of the church, and those who must sneak to church a world away. I think of those who sneak in back doors, unaware, they're worth sacrifice.

I think of the dinner I ate, and the hungry baby.

I think of the shower I'll take and those who need water to drink.

I think of my coffee, and the ones who would find my morning cup a gift.

I think of the closet filled with clothes, and remember we are to clothe those without.

I think of the Pickup outside, waiting to take me where I choose, and the ones willing to walk across any border for relief.

I think of those that love me and those whom I love, and those who don't have anyone to love and don't feel loved.

I think of the Lord, and I say simply, "Thank you."

Again and again.

He knows.

Red At The Top

I was finishing a wedding rehearsal. I was out of town. I was in a prayer circle with the families of the Bride and Groom as we prepared to eat a great rehearsal dinner. I planned to head back to the hotel, turn on ESPN, turn down the A/C to 32 degrees, cover up and doze off.

But, life happens.

During the prayer circle my phone kept buzzing. I tried to be patient, but during prayer I checked out mentally, wondering why my phone was buzzing off my belt. Finally the, "Amen," was spoken and I excused myself to see what was happening. I opened my phone and saw that I had three voice mails.

Hmmm. That's odd. Everyone knows I'm out of town. I listened to the first message:

In an urgent voice I heard a close friend say, "Clint, call me. Call me. Soon."

My heart started to race. I knew the tone of the call was not a congratulatory one. It was an emergency call. Calls two and three were the same. Call me. I immediately started trying to return calls as the two families were chatting merrily in the background. Busy signals infuriate me, but never so much as that evening. I couldn't get in touch with anyone.

Finally, a call was answered. It was a very close friend and the chairman of our church board of directors.

"Hey Clint." came the unusually curt answer.

"What's wrong Marc?"

"There's been an accident, and,"

"Marc, is my family alright?" I asked, terrified to hear the answer.

"I don't know. What I know is that Chrissy and Connor are en route to the hospital, and they're trying to get Caitlin out of the car." Marc answered.

"Is everyone alive?" I asked my most desperate question ever.

"I think so."

I think so?!?! What in the world kind of answer is that? I immediately felt a rush of adrenaline. My head started to get light, I started to sweat, my legs felt like they were made of jello. I walked in somewhat of a daze to the chatting families and said that I had to go back to Lubbock. My family was in a serious car accident and things sounded bad. At that I headed to my pickup, put the key in the ignition and said one of those short prayers filled with meaning, "God help us!"

I started my truck and peeled out of a parking lot for the first time since I was in high school. I pulled onto the interstate and found out that a Ford F-150 can easily reach 120 miles per hour. My phone was buzzing over and over, but, I couldn't answer and drive a race truck at the same time. I prayed. I cried. I realized after a short time that 115 was a more responsible speed to allow someone to answer the phone.

When I reached the hospital I saw tons of church family, school teachers, friends, and family. I didn't care. I wanted to see my family. After seeing them all. Touching them all. Kissing each one on the head. I sat down in an empty ER space and said another short prayer in tears. "Thank you God."

When I got my family home I saw one of the most loving displays of all. In order for you to understand I must give a bit of back story. When my son was a baby, he used to wrestle with his baby blanket sometimes before he would settle down and we never understood why. Later, when he was a toddler we realized that just like his father he has this desire for things to always be the same. He wanted the red end of the blanket on top and the blue end of the blanket over his feet. Ahhh...finally we got it.

After Chrissy came home and was recovering from surgery I told Connor to make sure and be quiet so his Mom could rest. So I watched closely as I saw him sneak past the living room where I was working on my laptop. He was being quiet so I let him continue. I noticed something in his hand that looked like his, "blankie." He quietly opened our creaky bedroom door and tip-toed into the room. After about a minute, I saw him sneak out and tip-toe back toward his bedroom.

I stood to check on Chrissy, see if she needed more pain medicine, and find out what happened. When I walked in I saw my wife laying on our bed. Tears in her eyes, covered with Blankie. Red end at the top, blue end over her feet, tucked in just like we tucked him in bed.

For the first time in days, Chrissy's eyes weren't wet because of pain, but love. I asked what happened and I was told that Connor had come in, gently covered up his mother, and whispered, "Mom, you need blankie right now more than me, but when you're better I need him back."

Tears filled my eyes as I hugged my wife. She said, "OUCH! That hurt."

Sorry.

You need to know that just as that blanket was a gift of comfort, when we comfort one another, we receive comfort back in our time of need. So make sure you cover those who need to be covered. Red at the top reminding us of Christ who was, is , and always will be. Blue at the bottom reminding us that, "this too shall pass."

Who knew a child of mine would be so theologically brilliant? I should have. I know his Mom.