Firsts: First Time I Held A Child of Mine

Steve holding Amy moments after her birth Aug. 26, 1984

I'm afraid I'm going to be jumping around a bit as I continue my "Firsts" series of my blog. I apologize for writing about "firsts" so long, but once I started I realized how many of these there are, and they're all special to me. I'll get around to the other writing before long.

This "First" is the first time I ever held a child of mine. Yes, that's me behind that surgical mask, and that's my firstborn, Amy Elizabeth I'm holding. The date is Aug. 26, 1984 and we're at Northside Hospital in Atlanta. We've just had the baby. Boy was it rough on ME! All that waiting and worrying! ha ha - I'm saying that for Donna's sake, who had the easy job of just pushing the little bugger out.

Seriously - what a moment. I remember it was so powerful that all my emotions were rushing together and came tumbling out at once. One minute I was laughing and the next I was crying. What a miracle birth is. Anyone who doubts the existence of God should stand in a delivery room and watch their baby be born and all doubts would evaporate. I know I'll never forget the experience.

I was all prepped to take Donna to the hospital ala Ricky Ricardo. We had a bag packed, I was on "go" at all times once the date neared. I was worried because we had a 45 minute drive from our house to the hospital. But then as it turned out, Donna had already gotten up and showered before she woke me up to say, "Dear, wake up we need to go to the hospital now." Imagine being stirred out of your sleep by a sentence like that. In the end we made it with time to spare. In fact, Donna had to walk the corridors of the hospital for an hour or two before they prepped her for delivery.

Amy's birth itself was particularly surprising. For almost nine months our doctor and his staff told us they were sure Donna was carrying a boy (we didn't want to know in advance). As Amy began being born the first thing the doctor (Dr. Thomas Modi) said was, "Woh! He's got red hair!" I remember thinking, "Red hair? Where did he get red hair?" Then, a few moments later the doctor said, "Woh...he's a she!" I remember thinking, boy Dr. Modi sure says "Woh" a lot! I wonder what other surprises are in store for us? At any rate, having a red head, and a little girl was a surprise - and a happy one for her proud parents!

Look at the photo closer and you'll see that little Amy has forceps marks on her face near her eye. Thankfully those faded. You'll also notice we're in a real old-fashioned delivery room. Nowadays the couple waits in a room that looks like the family room of your house, then when it's time they simply turn on a few more lights and voila you have the baby right there. I do believe that would have made me feel more comfortable; like I said the whole episode was pretty traumatic on me :)

Ah well - what a feeling to hold that little bundle; to smell that sweet baby and to hold her. What a blessing. I know I will never forget it. Thank you Donna, and Amy, and Dr. Modi, and most of all, thank you God!

Firsts: First Car

Steve's 1967 Pontiac GTO parked at Donna's house.

Another exciting first for me was my first car, a 1967 GTO aka a "GOAT," which my parents bought for me for $1500 in 1972 (a princely sum back then). Wow did I love that car! It was signet gold with a black vinyl roof. It had hood scoops (fake ones) upon which I added black vinyl "GTO" stickers on each side in case someone didn't notice it was a GTO (see the photo below). Under the hood it had a 400 cubic inch, 335 HP engine with a 4 barrel Quadra-Jet carburetor, and a turbo-hydramatic three-speed automatic transmission that could be operated manually through a Hurst "dual-gate" shifter when you really wanted to show off. It had 15 inch mag wheels, white letter tires and the rear end was jacked up a mile high with air shocks. It had dual Thrush mufflers that really made it purr and growl. Inside it had a state-of-the art 8-track tape player, black authentic-vinyl bucket seats and a tiny custom wood and metal steering wheel that made you feel like you were driving a dragster. In today's parlance the car would definitely be classified as a redneck mobile; but back then it was nothing but pure coolness.


Steve and Donna washing the "Goat" - notice the classy stickers I put on the hood.
Oh...and the ultra-cool railroad conductor hat I wore every day my senior year
of high school for some unknown reason.

I have so many great memories of that car. I remember riding around with Donna seated beside me while Leslie West and Mountain blared "Mississippi Queen" out of the car's ample speakers. I remember washing the car at least 2-3 times a week (as pictured above), and I remember rumbling up to school and claiming "my" parking spot. It was just the coolest ride ever.



Dad bought the GTO from a fellow Lakeshore Lancer, Howard Johnson. That was pretty cool too. I looked up to "Ho Jo" as we called him, so it was nice to get a car that was already well-appreciated at our school. I also recall this car was the only one I've ever owned that I even remotely wanted to work on - and I did. The car was "old school" in the sense that you could open the hood and tell what things were: radiator, alternator, starter, air filter, carburetor, heads, plugs, etc... Can you picture me going to an auto parts store? Well I did - it was always fun to add a new gadget or part to such a piece of art.

One of the saddest days of my early driving years was the day my Dad "borrowed" my car for some reason and was involved in a fender bender. The whole thing was the other guy's fault, but I remember being crushed that "my" car was in an accident. Dad and I were talking about that incident just today and he told me that the police officer handling the accident couldn't believe Dad was the operator of the hot rod. Dad said he kept asking him, "Now tell me again, who was driving the gold car?" Looking back that accident today it all seems petty, especially since my parents bought the car to begin with - but molehills can easily be turned into moutains when you're a hormone-possessed teenager in love with an automobile.

To this day sometimes I look over at Donna when we're driving down the road and I remember those amazing days - the windows rolled down, the wind blowing through our long hair, 8-track blaring, mufflers roaring, people staring, and small animals and children scrambling as their parents tried to get them indoors to safety. It was the greatest! 

Firsts: First Apartment

Oh man - isn't she beautiful!

The photo at right is the first apartment I ever lived in. That's my beautiful bride only a week or so after we got married pointing to the door of our humble first abode, J-110 University Village, which was the University of Georgia's primary married housing area at the time. 

I moved straight from living at home with my parents, to a dorm room for three years (Russell Hall). Donna and I both had jobs in Athens by the time we were Juniors, she in the office of the inimitable Coach Dan Magill in the UGA Athletic Dept, and me coaching at the Athens YMCA. During spring break of our Junior year we decided it would be better to go ahead and get married that summer rather than wait until we graduated and had to worry about marrying and moving and getting jobs all at the same time. Thus we planned organized the whole event and were married three months later in June of 1977. With all the planning and organizing and picking out stuff that happens today, can you imagine people doing all that in only a few weeks? Our rehearsal dinner was at my parents' house, the wedding happened in a church and the reception was downstairs in the fellowship hall of the church complete with punch, cheese straws and mixed nuts. That's about all you got back then. No limo, no fancy reception, no meal, no bar, no videographer, etc... Regardless, our wedding "took" and we're still happily married 34 years later.

Part of getting married meant we could give up our dorm rooms (me in Russell and her in Creswell) and our two separate meal plans at UGA, and we could combine our forces and finances and move into married housing. Boy were we proud of that place! Our apartment cost us $90 a month plus electricity, which rarely ran more than $3-5 a month. The receipt below was for our first full month, July of '77 and shows we used a whopping $4 of power that month, one of the hottest of the year. We were dirt poor, but happy as can be. One of the best things about living in married housing was that most everyone else was in the same boat (poor and happily in love) so we fit right in. By the way, I checked online (click to view) and the same unit currently rents for $600 a month and heaven knows how much the electricity costs now.

The first rental receipt for our apartment - $94

In an odd twist of fate, my parents' house burned in July 1977 a month after we were married. But good almost always comes from bad. Donna's parents owned a rental house next door to their home that was empty at the time so mom and dad moved in beside the Hartsfields and from that day on - even long after my parents moved to Buckhead and then on to Cumming - we have celebrated most of our our holidays and birthdays together.

Sometimes I think of those halcyon days when were were young and newly wed and the world stood before us ripe for conquering. I seem to think of them more in recent years as I've watched my own children grow up and leave the nest and make lives of their own. It's a beautiful plan actually. Personally I feel ever so grateful to be where I am today, sandwiched between our loving parents who provided such happy homes and abundant opportunities for us, and our own children who have turned out so well and made great lives for themselves. Thank you Lord for this wonderful gift. Your grace never ceases to amaze me.

Firsts: My First Pet

Blackie and Steve

This photo was taken in 1959 and is of me and my first pet, a Cocker Spaniel named Blackie. There is nothing quite like a child's first pet, that's for sure. We got Blackie in Puerto Rico and we kept him for several years. He was a loveable dog and very well-behaved. Blackie was also a great traveler. He not only went overseas with us, but he travelled with us as we zig-zagged across the country on all those family outings. During those travels the poor canine got blamed for more "smells" in the car (remember those?) than it was possible for one small dog to make. Usually it was the one most "in the know" if you know what I mean, who would whine "Blackie!  Not again!" as the odor slowly wafted through the car and my parents frantically rolled down the windows gasping for a breath of fresh air.

Cars in the fifties had really deep wells in front of the back seat where your feet were supposed to go. They were the perfect size for a little boy on one side and a Cocker Spaniel on the other. I can't tell you how many times I went to sleep in one of those wells looking over at Blackie in the other one. I really loved him (as is evident from the picture below). He was truly a great friend. Being a military family we moved a lot. Sometimes moving is really fun, sometimes it’s tough (it got tougher as I got older). It was fun because you got to start over and you eventually met new friends. It wasn't fun because you had to leave those new friends, usually after only a year. Having a pet like Blackie made the transition easier. He was always there.

Man's Best Friend

When we lived in Jackson, MS Blackie got hit by a car one night. We awoke to find him sitting on the stoop outside the house missing an eye. He recovered from his accident to live many more years though. He was eventually allowed to "retire" at a relative's house in the country (Johnny Wilson's mother). We were moving to a cold climate where the Puerto Rican Cocker Spaniel would have been miserable. It was tough leaving him behind, but we frequently heard how happy he was back in Mississippi. Later in life I wondered from time to time if what I was being told about my first pet's fate was true. But you have to trust your parents and grandparents. Surely they wouldn't lie to a little boy, would they? Here's to Blackie - my best childhood friend.

Blackie you were there for me
When I was just a lad.
I thank you for the joy we shared,
For nuzzling me when I was sad.

I remember the comfort I felt
as we slept in those back seat wells.
I'm so sorry that you always got blamed
for those lovely "doggy" smells.

Rest in peace dear friend from
the distant past.
And know I miss you every day
but good times don't always last.

In my childhood memories you will
always roam.
Through pastures of green and woods
of brown; always making my house
a home.

Firsts: My First Date

Okay - now I'm moving into my more "mature" years in my "firsts." I hope my readers can take this!  This photo was taken on January 16, 1966. I'm two months shy of being 10 years old. The caption on the back of this photo says, "Steve making a date with Gloria." The girl, Gloria Grubbs, was my first girlfriend, and this was my first date.

Okay... stop that laughing! This is serious stuff. I was in the 4th grade and we lived in Prentiss, MS. For the first nine years of my life girls meant nothing to me. You just had to put up with them. They giggled a lot and they couldn't play baseball very well. Suddenly, in late '65, and early '66 I became interested in women (I'm sure I referred to them as "women" back then).

And what an amazing transformation it was! We moved to Prentiss from Ft. Leavenworth, KS where I had been the only boy in a choir with over 20 girls, but I had no interest in girls. My voice back then sounded like a girl, mind you. But then, my voice changed at age 9 1/2 and suddenly girls interested me. No....I that's not true. I didn't go through puberty at 10, but I sure was suddenly interested in Gloria Grubbs. Truth is, I was very interested in Gloria Grubbs. That much is evident from the photo. Look at it closer.

You may not be able to tell, but I have on a dickey under that shirt. What? You don't know what a dickey is? A dickey is a fake turtleneck - like the one Cousin Eddie wore in Christmas Vacation. Mine was about as bad as Cousin Eddie's. As I recall the one in the photo was white and it really made that blue shirt I had on "pop." And notice the telephone. That phone was your standard-issue rotary dial, 50 pound black model. You remember those don't you? And what's with the "Forget Hell!" Rebel general picture mom and dad had hanging in our house? I know were were living in MS and it was the sixties, but that was a still a little politically incorrect don't you think? And I have absolutely no idea why we had those wind chimes hanging over an interior door in our house. No doubt the house was drafty, but that's a little much don't you think?

Oh well. I look pretty happy talking to Gloria - telling her when Mom and I are going to pick her up (Dad was in Korea). What? You didn't do those "dates" as a kid where your parent drove and you picked up your date and mom or dad drove you around like a chauffeur and tried not to look in the backseat? Oh yeah... classy. Mom even drove my sister and her boyfriend (8th graders at the time), and a a few other kids (including Gloria and me as fourth-graders) to see Herman's Hermits in Jackson, MS back in '66. Everything went fine until Mom tried to parallel park and she hit the car behind us and she shouted, "Oh $#!&." Tricia and I weren't sure whether to be proud of our mom's Sailor's mouth, or whether to turn invisible with embarrassment over the incident. But these days I think I'd be mostly proud. I still don't know what mom did during the 3 hours we were in the concert. But that, like so many of these tales, is a story for another day.

Firsts: My First Party

My mom labeled this photo, "July 28, 1959, Steve going to his first birthday party." I suppose kids going to birthday parties has been a big deal since the Stone Age. I did, and I remember when my daughters went to their first birthday parties - they were so excited. I look pretty excited in this photo don't you think?

Actually it looks like I'm embarrassed; that's probably why I'm flashing the pre-Nixon "V" for victory symbol with my left hand, huh? And look at that present! Kind of small, don't you think? I obviously wrapped it - and tied the bow. And even if bought a tiny present at least I got dressed up for the party. Stylin' don't you think? Dad even combed my hair (it was always Dad who combed and put Vitalis on my hair) and mom obviously pressed my shorts - look at that pleat down the front!

Other tidbits about this "First" photo: We lived in San Juan, Puerto Rico at the time. I don't remember whose party it was (I'm sure mom  remembers). And I'm sure cake and ice cream were served.

PS - another "first" about tonight's post is this is the first blog post I've ever done from Picayune, MS. I'm here tonight on a business trip. Back in '59 I bet no one ever imagined wi-fi would be available in Picayune!

Firsts: My First Christmas

My first Christmas I was nine months old and we lived at Eglin AFB near Pensacola, Florida. As you can tell by the highly intelligent look on my face in the photo below, I was totally baffled by what was going on. All I knew was we were getting up early, staying up very late, and I was getting loads of candy and toys in between. It doesn't get much better than that. To this day Christmas is still my favorite day of the year. I love the wonder and magic of this special time of the year.

Tricia and Steve - Christmas 1956

The photo above was taken at my maternal grandparents' house in Starkville, MS where we had travelled at some point during the holiday. The cute kid sitting beside me in the photo above is my long-suffering sister. I have another, much more dignified photo of the two of us at home that first Christmas, only I'm trying to eat the silver tinsel icicles off the tree (remember those?). The tree at my aunt's house, as you can tell from the photo, is simply a cedar someone cut from the nearby woods, nailed a couple of boards to the bottom of, and voila! There was no such thing as Christmas tree lots on every corner back in the fifties in Mississippi.

The two companion photos below pretty much sum up my life at the time. I was very happy to see all the presents and I wanted them all (photo 1). And what I mostly cared about back then was getting whatever I could in my mouth at the time (photo 2). It didn't much matter what it was or where it had been. Some would say not much has changed about me in the ensuing years!

I like presents! I want them ALL!

I want to put that (and everything) in my mouth!

I'll close with a Christmas poem by Christina Rossetti

A Christmas Carol

In The bleak mid-winter
Frosty winds made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter,
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Firsts: My First Cigarette

I'm not very proud of today's "first." I'm also not sure it actually was my first cigarette. I seem to remember seeing the warm glow of a cigarette tip many nights as I smoked my last one of the day in my crib after my folks turned in for the night (NOT REALLY!!). Seriously, back in the day my Dad (like most men) smoked. Thankfully he stopped in the mid-sixties when the Surgeon General put out the definitive statement that smoking causes cancer.

Before that Dad was a regular smoker. At the time of this photo he was obviously smoking filterless Pall Malls. See the package on the coffee table? If you look even closer at the photo you'll see the real reason I liked to be around when Dad lit up. See the little blue box of matches on the coffee table behind me? That's what I really liked. I have always been fascinated by fire. When I got old enough (some might question that) Dad let me light his cigarettes for him. Sometimes after I lit his cigarette Dad would put it down in the ashtray. When he did I'd ease over and pick up his cigarette like a take a puff waiting for him to pop me (notice how he is already balling up his hand in a fist in the photo). Sometimes Dad popped me, and sometimes he didn't. It was worth it though - to see how far I could go.

Truth is - the look I have on my face in this photo pretty much captures my attitude as a little boy. It's that, "push-everything-to-the-limit-and-see-what-you-can-get-away-with" look that other parents may be familiar with. I know that's what the look was because I was the one behind it. Knowing me, I probably turned around after I took a drag on Dad's cigarettte and took a swig of his coffee sitting on the coffee table.

My main feeling when looking back at photos like this one half a century later is shame (maybe that's why Mom took the photo?).  I also feel pangs of regret too - regret that I put my parents through so much. For instance, one time after I lit Dad's cigarette I threw the still-lit match in the kitchen trash can and caught the kitchen on fire - but that's a whole other story. I also regret the fact that there's a part of me that hasn't changed much from the attitude of the kid in this photo. Like you, dear reader, I'm a work in progress. That's not an excuse; it's a fact. Lord help me to straighten up - and to surrender fully to you. And Mom and Dad... I apologize; I'm sorry for what I put you through.  Oh, and Lord, one more thing...thanks for giving me little angels for children of my own. AMEN!

Firsts - Baby Steps: Discovering What Was Before I Came

Steve's first steps April 1, 1957

Today's "First Time" is the first time I ever walked. The date is April 1, 1957. Thankfully mom and dad had a camera ready. I suppose they were primed for this event since I was a little over one year old. According to Laurie LeComer, author of  A Parent's Guide to Developmental Delays, the date of my first steps put me in the normal range.  "Babies most commonly walk between their 10th and 14th month," LeComer writes, "But walking anywhere from 9 to 15 months is considered within normal ranges."

According to family lore (repeated by my mom just yesterday), after months of demonstrating no interest in ever walking, on this day I didn't just stand a take a few faltering steps before falling down. According to "the story" which is actually written in my mom's handwriting on the back of the photo, I got up and walked completely across the room "as if he had always been doing it." Don't you love how family stories like that get embellished over the years?

A couple of things to point out about this photo. First, notice how pleased my sister (sitting in the background) appears to be at my first steps. At this stage in our lives when we weren't pulling each others' hair out fighting we were pretty close. I'm sure it was difficult for her when I showed up on the scene five years after she did. She'd had all the attention for all those years and suddenly she had to share the parental spotlight with an attention hog like me. A belated apology Patricia.

Second, notice my svelte body. In my real cloth diaper, tennis shoes and socks I look more like a Sumo wrestler in training than the scrawny kid I turned out to be. Finally, look at that mischievous grin. Yikes! The more photos I see of myself as a little boy, the happier I am that I didn't have a boy. I know from first-hand experience I was a handful!

In closing, here's a lovely poem about first steps by the Nigerian poet Chika Unigwe.

First Steps

How strange it is
to see him walk
waddling really
like a giant pigeon

crippled
crossing
the expanse of land
green like summer grass
between the living room
and the kitchen

He falls
a mass of yellow jammies
A picture of Dipsy (could it be Tinky Winky?)
staring ferociously
smeared into the ground

He gets up
Waddles
Livingstone on an exploration
discovering what was
before he came.

Firsts - My Hollywood Movie Debut

I'm doing a series of posts about "first times" (read yesterday's post to understand why).

Today's first is, appropriately enough, my screen debut which occurred when the movie Joyful Noise was released today. The photo above (I'm on the second row, fourth from the left inside the circle) comes from the movie trailer, and honestly it's about as good as you can ever see me in the movie. For some strange reason when they did the final edit of the film they forgot to leave leave in the circle so you can find me. In fact you would probably have to know my mannerisms and exactly where I was sitting to even notice me at all in the movie. But I'm definitely there in at least two scenes. One is the climatic concert scene which supposedly happened in LA but actually was filmed at the Civic Center in Atlanta last March. The second scene I'm in is when the triumphant choir returns to their small town in Georgia. I run around a corner waving at the bus as it drives by. I did a great wave but apparently still failed to catch the director's attention. That scene, by the way, was filmed in Conyers.

After seeing it I thought the movie was great. It's a feel-good movie with a positive message and lots of singing and dancing. I am definitely bummed the Atlanta Journal panned Joyful Noise - they gave it a "C" and called it "formulaic." They also didn't say a single word about the great extras that were featured throughout the movie. This review from CNN was a bit better. Personally I think it was pretty dumb to release a movie on Friday the 13th anyway. What were they thinking?

Oh well - I had a great time, I got to see the other side of movie-making, and I made some good friends. Best of all I got paid to do so. I promise not to mention my movie-making here for a while now - at least until August when my next feature-length film is released, the Disney picture "Odd Life of Timothy Green."

Firsts - A New Series by You Know Who

There's a first time for everything in life. First times can be frightening, exhilirating, dangerous, and a hundred other adjectives. Some say "the first time's a charm." Others say, "I did that once, and it will definitely be the last." Some firsts mean you're growing up. Other firsts mean you're getting old. In other words, there's a lot of "stuff" that goes with first times - no matter what the first is about.

On Friday Jan. 13th the movie Joyful Noise is being released. Joyful Noise marks a first for me. It is the first time I was ever in a Hollywood movie. Yes...Dolly and Queen Latifeh and me. Those of you who see the movie probably won't even notice I'm in it. I'm not listed in the credits, I don't  have any speaking lines, and - surprise! - I wasn't even one of the higher paid actors (I think I made about $172.00 for four days work). But still - it's a first, and first times like this one are fun and memorable. Who knows... some day a hundred years from now my great, great grandkids might be watching whatever people will be watching in the 22nd century and Joyful Noise might come on and they will see me - for just an instant frozen in time.  Makes you think!

Anyway - in honor of this "First" I am planning a few days of blogs about other memorable "Firsts" from my life. It will be a veritable stroll down memory lane. Indulge me... and maybe what you find here will make you laugh or cry - or better yet perhaps it will dislodge a memory or two of your own. It may even cause you to pull out the old photo albums or home movies and share them with your kids or grandkids - who knows?

Steve's first birthday!

Today's "First" comes from way back in the time of Howdy Doody. Elvis was on top of the charts and - you guessed it - I celebrated my FIRST BIRTHDAY! This photo was taken on March 22, 1957. We lived at Eglin AFB in Florida. Some quick observations about the photo. First, notice my mom's saddle oxford shoe in the photo; apparently these were all the rage in the fifties. Second, for those of you wondering, yes, my eyes did eventually uncross. Actually they never really were crossed, I remember just being amazed that my parents were letting their one-year old kid get his face that close to FIRE. I remember thinking, "Quick! Someone should call DFACS!" (Actually I am making that part up, I really don't remember my first birthday). Finally, notice my tiny foot sticking out at an strange angle and my little oddly shaped shoe. A little known fact about me (EXTRA asked for these sorts of tidbits in case my movie was a hit)... A little known fact about me is that I was born with what was called a "club foot" back in the fifties. I'm sure you couldn't get away with calling it something so politically incorrect these days, but I had one. My foot turned inward at a weird angle. The real name for this condition is unpronounceable (congenital talipes equinovarus), but apparently it's fairly common, occurring in about one in every 1,000 live births according to Wikipedia. At least the fact that I had a birth defect is out in the open now - and yes it feels good getting that off my chest after all these years. I am rambling now, and probably being politically insensitive myself, so let me leave you with this profound thought to ponder: First birthdays are a lot of fun, even though no one ever really remembers theirs.

God Has Entrusted Me With Myself

The title to this post, “God has entrusted me with myself.” is a quote from the Greek philosopher named Epictetus (AD 55-c.135) who was associated with the Stoics. Epictetus has been one of my mentors from afar over the years. Of course mine has always been a Christian take on the decidedly pagan philosopher (he believed in Zeus and "the gods" and had apparently heard of Christianity, but he was not a Christian).  Still, there is much that can be learned about living well from Epictetus and from the Stoics in general.


Stoicism is often misunderstood. the word stoic has come to mean "unemotional" in today's parlance. In reality however, Stoics like Epictetus didn't teach emotional detachment. Instead they taught we should seek to see things as they really are and not allow our emotions to disturb us to the point of clouding our judgment.  The idea was to avoid suffering by dealing with desires we may have that are contrary to the way things actually are in life. For instance, I may desire very much to be an NFL quarterback, but the reality is, I do not have the physical skills, size, or arm strength required to be one. I have a choice. I can spend the rest of my life feeling frustrated that I am unable to play professional football, or I can acknowledge that I was not gifted to play in the NFL and, coming to terms with that truth, overcome this contrary-to-nature desire.

A good bit of what the Stoics believed can be summed up this way: When something happens, many times the only thing in your power is your attitude towards what has happened. As has been learned in prison camps, through difficult illnesses, and elsewhere - no one can take away your power to choose your response to your circumstances or how you personally elect to view your circumstances. What really frightens and dismays us is not the things that happen to us, instead it's the way we think about these events - our interpretation of their significance - that disturbs us so much.

Another important element of Stoic thinking is that we have duties and responsibilities in this life, and to have a good life, morally, physically, spiritually and otherwise, we must accept and perform those duties. Hence the saying from Epictetus which was mentioned above, "God has entrusted me with myself." God expects me to take responsibility for some things. God's got His part, and I've got mine.

Read up on the Stoics; I think you'll find some things there that will help you to live your life to the fullest. Philosophy can never take the place of religion because it can never answer humankind's deepest need, salvation. But philosophy, like education in general, can help us lead a better life.  

Sound Bites

As I write this another presidential hopeful has had a couple of sound bites get him in trouble. On Monday Mitt Romney said he likes having the option of "firing people." He said this while answering a question about healthcare reforms he'd implement as president. Couple this statement with a comment he made a day earlier to New Hampshire voters - that he (the multi-millionaire) knows what it's like to fear getting a "pink slip," and Romney has clearly let his mouth get him in hot water.

But this post isn't about how not to be a successful politician. Instead it's about the way we ALL get ourselves in trouble with our mouth. Unfortunately with presidential candidates, their gaffes make the 6 o'clock news (if not before). In our case, our words often come back to haunt us, perhaps just not on such an immediate and global stage. As I watched Romney squirm as as he tried to explain his comments I found myself thankful that every word I uttered today wasn't taped and later analyzed for slip-ups, misspeaks, half-truths, exaggerations or worse.

The Bible has plenty to teach us about the power of what we say. Proverbs 21:23 says, "Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble."  Proverbs 15:1 says, "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." In James (3:2-10) we read how the tongue is only a "small member," and yet "How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire!" Earlier (1:26) James had warned, "If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue, this person's religion is worthless."

Like I said, I'm glad I wasn't taped today. I had a few hushed conversations at work; I didn't always speak as if those I was speaking of were present in the room to hear what I had to say. I'm sure I exaggerated a little today (okay... a lot!). Maybe I should have been taped. Perhaps that's the best way for me (us?) to learn to speak and listen as Jesus would. "Lord, in a 'sound bite world,' help me to remember that you hear it all, and you are the One I really want to please. Tame my tongue, in Jesus' name. Amen."

Lessons Learned (Again)

The past two Sundays I have attended two churches I had the privilege of planting. On Jan 1st I attended Creekside United Methodist and today I attended NewSong Community Church. It's great to see how well both churches are doing now that they have gotten rid of the deadwood (me!). Seriously, it's great to see how both churches have taken on their own personalities; obviously the personalities God had in mind for them when he called them into being a few years ago.

Attending these churches has also taught me something about myself. Actually it's not a new lesson - I've been schooled in it before. It's a lesson I've been trying to learn for several years now. Namely, that if we surrender our need for results, success becomes God's business (as stated so succinctly by Fr. Greg Boyle). Sometimes our striving for success, results and outcomes is the very thing that keeps us from seeing what God is trying to accomplish all along. Learn this lesson Steve!!!

I believe Creekside and NewSong are both successful today in their own unique ways. I'm grateful for what God is doing in and through both churches. I viewed both churches as my "children" while I was leading them and while there I viewed them as a child coloring all outside the lines. I saw it as my job to try and force them to color inside the lines - my lines. But God had something else in mind. These churches are actually His children and both of them are still coloring outside the lines today. Because they are, many people are being blessed and God is being glorified. That's how it should be. Now if I can just learn that lesson going forward...

Getting From Here to There

Strategy - noun - "A plan of action or policy designed to achieve a major or overall aim."

I love to think strategically. Perhaps it's a male thing going back to my caveman ancestors who puzzled over the best way to bring down a saber-toothed tiger or a cave bear, but I just love figuring out strategies for accomplishing things; always have.

What does it mean to strategize? To me it means to ponder alternative courses of action towards achieving some kind of goal and then to choose the best way get there. Of course the definition itself assumes a few things. First of all you need a goal; something or someone or somewhere that you want to attain or go or be. Second, the definition assumes that there are alternative courses of action you can take, and that you take the time to reason through them step-by-step to determine the best, or most feasible way to arrive at your chosen destination. Finally, of course, it assumes you're willing to be decisive; that once you make your decision you'll carry through with it - you'll execute.

Strategic thinking goes beyond this though. Real strategic thinking involves knowing more than the "how," it also involves knowing the "why." True strategic thinkers are always asking the "why" question. Fact is, it's the "why" that fuels the passion that drives the strategic thinker's engine. Plenty of people can figure out the "how," whether it involves planting a church, or opening a branch office of a business, winning a political race, or winning a battle on the battlefield. Strategic thinking of the highest order is always driven by the "why" question.

Strategic thinkers make the best leaders. In fact I would argue that to be a true leader you must be a strategic thinker. I love reading a book or watching a movie with a character in it that is a strategic-thinking leader. They're always questioning the assumptions that others make about situations; they're always thinking on an entirely different level than everyone else. I remember numerous episodes of Star Trek (for instance) where the logical thing to do in a situation (Mr. Spock), or the most obvious course of action ("Bones" McCoy) turned out to be the wrong thing. Instead it was Captain Kirk - thinking on a whole different level  than everyone else - that saves the day.

The lesson? Try thinking strategically. That means, first of all asking the "why" question, then having a goal, thinking through how to achieve that goal, choosing a course of action and then executing. You'll be surprised at what you can accomplish.

Stories From Dad

A couple of years ago my father was good enough to write down some reminiscences of growing up on a farm in south Mississippi back in the 1930's. I'm eventually going to write them all out and share them with others. Here's one such story from my dad - the world's greatest storyteller.

Vignettes of Growing Up on a Farm

As has been mentioned before, our farm consisted of some 200 acres. One morning our Dad ("Papa") announced that we must hoe the grass up in a 5-6 acre cornfield in furthest part of our place. The distance was at least 3/4 miles away.

We took inventory (everyone needed a hoe) and someone must take the water container for our drinking water. Well, the day's work turned out fine, and some one hour before dark we started home. About three-fourths of the way back from the field someone asked, "Did anyone bring the water jug?" You guessed it - "No." So you can bet your boots that I was asked to return for the watering jug.

In those days I always went barefooted. I retrieved the jug and started my journey (again) home. On the way we had to cross two small streams (they only ran water during the winter months, our rainy season). There was some 100 yards between these two streams. I was walking down a wagon road - basically a rutted path where the wagon wheels made ruts you could walk in. Somewhat just short of the second stream under an umbrella of trees - and it was almost dark by this time - I received a warning from someone to look down. My foot was about halfway to the ground (my bare foot, remember) and suddenly I saw a white object - cotton white - about the size of my hand - awaiting my foot to step exactly in its mouth. It was a large cotton mouth moccasin snake.

Needless to say, I had the ability to freeze my descent of this right leg and fall backwards precluding me from stepping into the fangs of this very poisonous snake. As I backed away the snake felt fit to move on - not in much of a hurry I might add. As the snake left I can assure you he was the largest snake in diameter and length that I have every seen on this farm. My Papa had seen him before and warned us about the snake. But that night I almost stepped right into the snake's mouth.

Marriage as House Building

I just learned that a couple from a church I once pastored recently divorced. This couple was amazing together; of all the couples I've known they would have been near the bottom of my list of marriages that might not make it. What makes a good marriage? Why do some flourish while others don't survive? Henri Nouwen once wrote that marriage is not a lifelong attraction of two individuals to each other, but a call for two people to witness together to God's love. The basis of marriage, Nouwen claims, is not mutual affection, or feelings, or the emotions and passion that we normally associate with love. Instead it is a vocation - a calling - to build together a house for God in this world.

When I think of all the great marriages I've been around, that's mainly what I see. Most of the folks in those marriages wouldn't explain their marriages that way, but that's exactly what they are. Like much of life, living on the surface of things, using language which limits what we are trying to describe, and, most importantly, our finite understanding of the world around us distorts much of what is really there. Some people will tell you their marriage is based on the great friendship they have with their spouse. Others say it's being there for the kids that makes their marriage "work." But in reality God is at the center of it all. It's God that the couple is, knowingly or not, building a house for in the world, that makes their marriage so great.

The next time you look across the breakfast table at your spouse keep that in mind. It's a high privilege and a holy calling you're participating in; make the most of it every day.

A Must Read

Every so often I read a book that touches me deeply; so much so that I want to go out and buy a case of the books to give to all my friends. Such is the case with the book I just finished, "Tattoos on the Heart - the Power of Boundless Compassion" by Gregory Boyle.

Boyle is a Jesuit priest and the founder and executive director of Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. My daughter Amy has toured the ministry and heard Father Greg speak there before. She liked the book so much she gave me a copy for Christmas.

Homeboy Industries is located in the middle of the two largest public-housing projects in LA. This makes the mission "ground zero" for gang activity in what is generally acknowledged as the gang capital of the world, Los Angeles. LA County claims 1,100 gangs numbering some 86,000 members. Homeboy Industries was founded to give gang members who are ready to give up gang life a second chance. The ministry offers job placement, training, education and encouragement.

The book is not a "how to" about ministering to gang members though. Instead the book is a series of parables told very humorously and effectively. The author is an amazing storyteller and he does a fantastic job weaving real-life stories together with important lessons. The parables are vignettes about grace, forgiveness, compassion, love and resurrection, all distilled from Father Boyles' twenty-plus years in the barrio. I found myself alternately laughing and crying, often in the same short chapter.  Believe me, the book will help you see people - and God  - in a very different way.

As you can tell - I can't hardly recommend this book enough! Tolle Lege!


Title: Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
Author: Gregory Boyle
Publisher: Free Press
Publication Date: March 9, 2010
Paperback: 217 pages
ISBN: 9781439153024

Four Things I'm Happy About

Still reflecting on the year just past and anticipating the bright new one. Here are four things that I'm happy happened to me last year:

1. I became a "background artist" (movie extra) for a few months last spring and was in a TV series (MTV's Teen Wolf) and a couple of movies (Joyful Noise, Odd Life of Timothy Green). I have yet to make my debut on the silver screen, and whatever exposure I will get is certain to be fleeting and barely recognizable; but being an extra was fun and it was interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look at the movies.

2. In June I spent a week in Southern California. Donna and I traveled to Pasadena for our daughter Amy's graduation from Fuller Seminary. We were proud parents to be sure, beaming and taking pictures and probably embarrassing our daughter as parents are prone to do. But we also played the tourist card to the hilt, hitting all the "must-see" cheesy places in greater LA including Hollywood, Venice Beach, Malibu, Santa Monica, the Rose Bowl, hiking to the Hollywood sign and walking around (and lying down) in Forest Lawn Cemetery, the final resting place of the stars.

3. In July Donna and I enjoyed an extended stay at our current favorite beach/island locale - lovely Anna Maria Island near Bradenton, FL. While there we got to reconnect with an old friend from high school and meet his wife. We also had time to really explore the area and the opportunity to recalibrate our lives to "island pace."

4. In September I got a job! Praise God! I was hired by Inco Services, Inc. an industrial construction company that serves power plants, pulp and paper mills, wood product companies, recycling industries and more by keeping their factories and machinery in good repair. I'm doing a variety of things for Inco now, but I am mainly involved in Human Resources and Purchasing. I am enjoying using my old business degree and getting back in that mode. Best of all, I'm working with some really great people and bringing home a paycheck.

2011 wasn't a perfect year... my cousin that I was closest to chose to end his own life last January. In April I had surgery. My parents had an up and down health year. Amy broke her ankle in October. And unemployment cast its pall over my personal world for a good two-thirds of the year. Still, all in all I have nothing to complain about and so, so much to be grateful for.

I'm looking forward to what God has in store for us in 2012. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow; and that's enough for me. See you around...

Happy New Year

I heard a good sermon today  based upon the greatest sermon ever given (found in Matt. 5-7). Grateful for his words (the preacher and Jesus'). Reminded me of the "up is down" world of Jesus where the blessed are the poor, the meek and the mournful, not necessarily the rich, the brash and the "happy" folks. In God's economy the first are last and the last are first. In God's world the master drops to his knees and washes the feet of the servant.

It was a great reminder to depend fully on God in this new year before us - and to practice mercy, and peacemaking, and reconciliation in all its many forms. 2012 is a great time to claim again my brotherhood with the least, the last and the lost; to cry out with the apostle, "Wretched man that I am" and to savor again the joy of my own salvation and forgiveness.

Yes it's time to let go of the past and to embrace what God is doing right now in my life. It's time to stop "barking against the bad" and instead to "chant the beauty of the good" as Emerson so eloquently put it.

I don't know, I suppose attending two funerals in one day and seeing lots of folks from different eras of my life the past few days will do things to a man. I'm grateful for the lessons these days are teaching me.

May God bless you in 2012. Take nothing for granted. Don't put anything off. Stop getting ready to live and start living...now. That's what I plan to do.