How To Do Life: A Manual for Living My Life if Anything Happens

It had been bugging me for weeks. The weather was off-and-on warm -- not hot but warmer. That meant for my family that there was the possibility they might sweat and so they turn on and down the air conditioner. I want to open windows, but they just hit the magic button and the house cools down. Now I do want them to be comfortable, especially the Mrs. She has occasional periods of time when regardless of the temperature she is on fire, but I digress. So what was bugging me – no, not the battle over the use of the A/C -- it was the filter. I knew it was way past the time to change it, and if I didn't get it done, it would just be that much harder on the old system. So I went to the store at 9 o'clock at night and got two of them.

While I was out, I got to thinking about who would do all that stuff if I wasn't here to do it. If I wasn't here when the wood trim needed to be replaced or the dryer wasn't drying. I suppose it is all relative, and there are plenty of service companies offering the help. But thinking about it, I just felt like there are a lot of things I do and that I should probably write a manual in case something happens to me.

Chapter One: Mechanical and Home. This list of course includes all types of things like A/C filters and toilet flappers. I would say that there needs to be a regularly scheduled walk of each room and facility. Check for loose screws on doors and knobs, check for tight mounting on toilet paper holders, check for dryer vent cleanliness, light bulbs and window screens. The gutters, French drains, fertilizing of the yard and bug control need to be in this chapter. Gas for the blower, mower and weed eater needs to be available but not overstocked and never, never leave fuel in the equipment for a long period of time.

Chapter Two: The Partnerships. The obvious ones are at work. Deadlines, scheduling, creative elements and meetings. This is a tough one. I guess that a look back at my day timer would explain a lot, and a blanket email to everyone on my contacts would get some of it done. But these are the things in life we are just set out to do. We can be replaced, mostly, for the tasks, but our creative and personal touches are hard to match if we are truly engaged in what we do.

Chapter Three: The personal part of the manual is going to be really hard to get everything down.  Again, the mechanical decisions will happen. The tire for my daughter’s truck or a baseball bat for my son. The financial can be taken over by mom. Moms do this stuff all the time. The bill payer who sneaks a few bucks into a savings account each month or handles the taxes and knows the nuances of the family CPA.

But it's the male figure, the father leading the family, final answer, decision maker, the real dad stuff. It's the arm around my boys when they need a guy to tell them job well done. It's the conversations on the way to school each morning with my boy, a dad praying over his son, blessing him, encouraging him before he steps onto the school grounds. It's those times only dad knows when to push the boy to do just a little more, stay on it, go, lift, hold, run, stand, look, do hard things. How to use a hammer and the importance of opening the door for a girl. To listen to a business plan or a struggle in his first years of marriage. To celebrate the victories, successes and joys with him guy to guy.

This section has to find a way to fill the needs of my daughter too. How to comfort a daughter who needs to know safety is only as far away as daddy. A daddy is the hard guy who says no but hugs her and tells her how proud he is of her and how beautiful she is. Who teaches her to do hard things, to stand strong in her convictions, shoot a gun, gut a deer, buy auto parts. Daddy teaches, shows by his example, to never settle for a guy who does not open her door or want to meet her parents, go to church or listen to her.

How do I explain the little nuances I have learned about my wife over the last 20 years that are absolutes. Movies, dreams, favorite snacks and workout tapes. The joy she gets from cleaning the house and that there is one laundry soap allowed.

Chapter four: warranties and guarantees. There are so many examples in the Bible where only God had the answer. Where He was the blessing, the caregiver, the rock, the joy, the guide. The only way I can figure out how to get chapter three to work is to instill the heartfelt knowledge of our heavenly Father in my kids and for my wife to feel it from me while I am here. For them to know He is there no matter what and by that they get strength to go to Him for comfort and direction and find a safe haven.

This is really the most important part of the manual. It is the last chapter that should probably be the first. God is the Guy who services the warranties and guarantees. He even wrote them down for us (Bible) so we would have them handy.

I guess it boils down to: There is an extra a/c filter in the closet, fertilize two times a year, and as my buddy Joe Don Mayes always says, "Read the Bible; do what it says". Seems simple, right?

Pumkin Dead and Stolen, What?

Pumpkin was a cat the color of, well, a pumpkin. She was a guy for many years, at least we thought she was. She came to us as a wild feral stray. Now I am a someone who truly dislikes feral cats. They are disease-ridden, songbird-killing, nasty little things. But this one, well I don't know why, but we took a liking to her and began to care for her.

Pumpkin and I met mornings and evenings on the front porch. She was fearless, and it didn't matter if our dogs were out there or not -- she was never intimidated by them. She would walk up and look at them, let them sniff at her, then she would walk to her bowl and look for food. She did it in a way that you felt compelled to get up and make sure she was served. Even me, the cat-disliker would be at her beck and call.

There was a long period of time when she was first making herself at home that we thought she was a boy. I guess it was the rough and tough exterior. We never, I never, considered having him (her) fixed or get shots or anything. I only began buying cat food regularly after a year or so of this dang cat, which I did not like, became a fixture on our porch. I figured OK, a barn cat is always good, so I will just consider my porch cat a barn-type cat, but then “he” became cool and I would buy cat food for “him.”

If there was ever a cat that had seven lives it was Pumpkin. She went through a fat-as-a-tick stage, then skinny and sickly looking. There were several occasions over the 10 years or so that this cat was around that she would drag up on the porch totally beat up. I don't know if it was with another cat or a fox or a possum, but she would obviously be hurting from something. There were times we thought she was going to die right on the porch. Sickly and lethargic we would try our best to nurse her back to health; each time she came back. Like I said, she was tough.

Winters were an old cardboard box with towels. The coldest nights she was usually found there in the box, but not always. She traveled the area around our house and sometimes ventured next door and visited there. She was an ‘ole feral cat, born to wander and seeking adventure, I guess. 

Not long ago we came home to find her on the porch in pretty bad shape again. This time my wife was adamant she was going to the vet. After the vet visit we learned “he” was a she and they didn't know what was wrong, maybe a snake bite? A little TLC and some time was all we could hope for to bring ‘ole Pumpkin back. She used another lifeline; she came back just fine.

Then it happened. It was a slow process, and we didn't really think a lot about it. Pumpkin would mosey over to the little house next door. There was a young gal living there, and we supposed she thought she was her porch cat and must have kept a small bowl of food out. Then I think she was letting her in the little house at night or during the day. We never really did that except in severe weather conditions. Pumpkin and the gal next door became buddies.

More and more her visits home were fewer and farther between. I was busy and didn't give it a lot of thought. One day I noticed a U-Haul truck backed up to the little house. We had never grown close to the young lady living there and realizing she was moving was a passing thought. Until a week later. I realized Pumpkin was not coming around at all.

Now a couple months into it I guess Pumpkin is gone, and I am assuming the neighbor girl took her when she moved. Wow. I don't know how to feel about it. I miss my tough little buddy, sorta. I mean I never liked feral cats, except this one.

So often we take a random relationship for granted. Someone we see every day, a person we know but not really and we hear they passed away. We think later that we should have called more often, said hi or had lunch with that person. It happens, especially as you get older. 

Song of Solomon 2:12,  The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;

Know that sometimes we take things for granted, people, places things. No, you can't make physical contact with everyone; you can't and won't get everything right. Some things will just not be on your heart to do, a phone call or a special visit. But there will be some and you need to listen to that still small voice. He talks to us there.

Popper is our cockateal. We have had him for about 25 years. The average life of this type of bird is 10 to 12 years. He has always lived in the same corner of the kitchen and doesn't do much there except whistle, squawk and eat. But we love him and he is just one of those fixtures in our home that adds life to the family unit. Several times in the last couple months Popper has been eerily still in the bottom corner of the cage. One eye blind and the other getting there the last few days he has left almost all perch activity to sit in the corner bottom of his cage. It was just a couple months ago we lost his partner Blue, our parakeet. It won't be long before Popper goes.

Life is peeling away. God is moving. Right now it is our pets, a friend, things are getting close to home here. But I know and I have faith that all things happen for His good. I know that the offer to be back together as it is laid out in Romans 10:9 is real. Do I like it all? No. Do I understand it all? No. Do I like feral cats now? No. Some things are hard to change, but I will pray about it.

Listen and Learn - What Did You Say?

I often wonder if my hearing is waning? I have lots of friends with high tech hearing aids; funny, I thought my friends needed them because they are all so much older than me, but then it's not so funny because my friends are mostly my age. Selective hearing has been a suggestion that my wife has given as a possible reason for the problem. She I am not listening to her a lot of the time or that I only hear what I want to hear. Imagine that.

Sometimes I question if the kids I mentor are listening or are just waiting to get out from in front of me so they can get to doing whatever it is they were doing before I came along. I remember once when I was substitute teaching a group of sixth to eighth grade boys in a Sunday school class. I was never much on the required teaching parts of our class; I just never really understood it. I probably would have if I had read over it, listened to the teacher in charge and asked questions, but I figured I was a fill-in and as long as we hit the highlights we were good. Well that just didn't work. That age group is a fidgety group, and I figured I had to come up with something more extreme

So, during the time I met with the boys I would get them in a circle outside, in a corner on the floor or anyplace but the table. I would make up grand tales of adventure, hunting bear, fishing for shark, climbing mountains and other exciting stories. After I had their attention I would include how the Scripture or virtue of that week fit into the hog hunt with spears on horseback story I had told

Early on I wondered if I had made any impact on the boys or if they heard even a small piece of God's Word I was sharing with them? In my heart I wanted them to hear that part of the story. Then I began to get comments from the director of the youth ministry at church, from moms who had a boy in my class and others

"I don't know what bear hunting had to do with what you were teaching my son, but he has not stopped talking about it all week," one mom said

My little stories and the moral of the story were being shared and actually making an impact in some little way.

What I learned from that was that we all listen and learn in different ways, and that is OK. Boys can be distracted easily and unless you can engage them, they will miss a lot of the lessons they need to learn. They are designed to roll in the dirt, learn with their hands, associate meaning with physical motion. Today the kids are Go Pro, Red Bull, extreme sports and video erudite. Things are fast and wide open to them

One of the hardest things to teach a kid is to listen. Watch any kid walking down the street today, and I challenge you to see one go more than a minute or two without looking at their phone. What about reading a book in a quiet nook in their room or a window sill as the sun shines down warming their back? It is a rare kid, mine included.

The Bible talks a lot about listening. In the book of James, he shares, (1:19) “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger,” in Proverbs 19:27, “Cease to hear instruction, my son, and you will stray from the words of knowledge.

Recently I was interviewing kids from our ministry, Kids Outdoor Zone. I asked each the same questions. There was one answer that was consistent. I asked, “Have you ever experienced or heard from God at a KOZ meeting?" All of the kids who heard God speak heard him in their sit spots. A sit spot is a period of time in which we send the kids out into nature alone to sit under a tree, along a creek, on a rock in the sun, in nature. But alone and with the mission to speak to and listen for God.

Wow. It was incredible. Almost everyone told me stories of God speaking to them, to their hearts. I cried as one of them described in detail how God loved him and told him to, “Stick with it."

I think we all need to find sit spots where we turn everything off and talk to Him but even more important, listen to Him. So often we miss the still quiet voice that wants to help us through something, help us make a good decision or just let us know all is well

As usual I need to pay attention to my own words here. We all need to be examples of listening for the next generation. If a small kid is talking to you, bend down and get eye to eye with them. Don't pick up your phone when driving your kids to school in the morning. Ask them not to pick up theirs.

When you first get together with your wife in the evening, let her talk. Do we really need to re-check our e-mails from when we left the office or sat in our car in the driveway before we came into the house? Do people really expect us to reply from our work e-mail at 7, 8 or 9 p.m.? Do we really need to listen to our family at night, talk with and listen for God each day? Of course.

Hemmingway had it right. "I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen."  I need to get it right, too.

Shoot to Kill and Heal, My Biggest Fear Today

Our street dead ends into a small grassy easement that leads to the back of a schoolyard. Crossing alongside the school property you end up in a nice city park. The whole time our kids were in middle school we walked them to the end of the street, followed the trail and then to school. To this day we walk that route to relax, exercise the dogs and enjoy the time outdoors. There is also a nice pasture property across the street from our house. From all that green space we get some pretty amazing wildlife activity.

Hearing coyotes at sunset is common from our house. Seeing fox, deer, skunks, raccoons and possum is not a big deal.  A few years ago I heard the coyotes going crazy, and I knew they had taken something down. The next morning I went to explore the end of the street, the pasture and green space. There was a big old deer almost completely eaten. I knew this guy; one of his legs was messed up. There was a blood and fur trail from the fence out into the middle of the field. He didn't make it over to get away this time…

My wife is a city girl, the baby of three girls, and never knew hunting or guns until she married into our family. I could not be more proud of her and how she has accepted the lifestyle. Almost all the meat we eat in our home is from game we harvested. She acquired her personal carry licenses and is proficient with most firearms. She still loves to shop and do all the things a city girl loves, but she is not afraid to take care of business like a country girl.

Not long ago as she and our youngest son walked the dogs down the street toward the park they saw a cat lying in the tall grass off the side of the worn trail. They recognized it as one of the feral cats that lives in the woods down there, nameless but recognized. It was moving slightly, erratic.

"Oh my, he must be hurt or sick. Quick, son, go get the gun. We have to put him out of his misery," she said with care and concern in her voice. Our son looked at her in disbelief -- who is this lady? They kept walking, and she repeated her request to him and to hurry; she did not want this kitty to suffer.  Whatever its fate had been she would end the pain and misery.

They moved closer to assess the wounds when the cat sprung up, looking at the humans and dogs. It evaluated its exit strategy and raced unscathed into the woods and its safe haven. My son laughed so hard his sides hurt.

A couple days ago as I sat in a coffee shop working, my phone rang.

"Honey, I think Rudy (our sons Border Collie) has killed one of the chickens," were the desperate and sad words my wife used. On occasion, as he does what Border Collies do, round up livestock or chickens in our case, one gets roughed up a bit.

"She is lying there, and I think she is hurt bad. You have to come home right away and shoot it. I don't want her to suffer."

I told her I had to complete the tasks at hand, and she was going to have to muster up the strength to pick up the poor wounded chicken and put it into the coop until I got home.

She was not happy with the idea of touching it but agreed.

"OK, I will," was the stressed and sad tone I heard from her.

Hours passed, and I called her to see how she was. She started right in telling me about the current project she was working on and other family news and information. I stopped her and asked how the chicken was and how bad it was moving her broken and bloody corpse into the coop.

"Oh, she is fine. She is with the rest of them and doing fine. I guess she wasn't hurt -- just stunned or something."

I laughed so hard I almost wrecked my truck.

My oldest son Cody Ryan has a fishing partner, David. David has struggled with a life-threatening illness for years. He has actually undergone hundreds of surgeries and continues to fight. One of the things that keeps David going is tournament bass fishing. He loves it and is quite accomplished at the national collegiate level. Just a few months ago, though, he was the sickest we had seen him experience. The doctors had little to no hope he would come out of a long coma that consumed him.

Everyone prepared for the worst, but hundreds of people prayed for healing. He came back, and it was nothing short of a miracle. In February, just a few months after his near-death experience, they fished their first tournament of the year and took third place. David also caught the second biggest bass of the event, the kicker that put them in the money. It was incredible. I cried as I read the tournament press release.

I have seen God heal the sick. I have seen myself, people, he has given the gift of healing. Use that gift to heal others. Does he always heal the sick? Does he always remove the cancer or bring someone out of a coma? No. Does He love on us, stand with us, care for us as we mourn the loss of someone? Yes. I cannot answer why some are healed and some are not. He knows. I don't. I do know that through the process, through pain, I learn my most intimate lessons about Him and me.

I found myself a little uneasy as of recent around the house. I have kept quiet about the sniffles and headache I had a few days ago. I used to be able to take a pretty good nap on the couch, but I am not sure about laying around our house these days. I can just hear it now, "Oh geeze, dad is sick. He looks out of it. This is it, the end. I guess we need to get the gun."

The Amazing Heart

The heart. Definition:  An incredible muscle in our body that works its tail off to keep us alive. Interesting facts: The average adult heart beats 72 times a minute; 100,000 times a day; 3,600,000 times a year; and 2.5 billion times during a lifetime. Though weighing only 11 ounces on average, a healthy heart pumps 2,000 gallons of blood through 60,000 miles of blood vessels each day. A kitchen faucet would need to be turned on all the way for at least 45 years to equal the amount of blood pumped by the heart in an average lifetime. During an average lifetime, the heart will pump nearly 1.5 million gallons of blood—enough to fill 200 train tank cars. Grab a tennis ball and squeeze it tightly: that’s how hard the beating heart works to pump blood. Interesting.

When I was working a temporary job in Houston a few years ago, I had full coverage insurance. I used that opportunity to have a complete heart checkup. They put me on a monitor, a treadmill, scans, x-rays and more. The whole time asking me why was I there. I just wanted to know that my heart was solid. 

When they were done the report came back. Physically I was in great shape, the heart was good. No problems, and no reason to worry. 

My concern since then is still my heart, but it is not so much the muscle sweating in my chest, but the emotional, gut feeling, driving force that works as hard or harder as its physical brother. It is that deep inside feeling, that over the top elation, the ground pounding sadness, the quiet comfort.

My heart hurts when I hear stories of loneliness, abandon, loss and confusion. I can be moved to tears just watching a show or even a commercial on television. This morning as we were leaving our men's Bible study, one of our guys told how he was worried about his aging father -- how his dad was getting older and falling a lot. In his eyes you could see the pain his heart was feeling. He was asking what to do, how to help, how to be helpful without disrespect to his dad. He said, "Next week we are going to have to pray for him." Well my buddy and I just smiled and said in unison, "Let's pray right now."  And we did.  The heartfelt joy of prayer is new for me in the last few years; sharing it is awesome, and I dig it.

The hearts of children are a big part of my life with our ministry today. I love experiencing the overflow of love from the unspoiled places they carry inside. They will also share the deepest pain. Kids will say what they feel, what they think, what they have experienced and so often God speaks through them. We miss a lot when we do not listen to kids as we look into their eyes.

My kids are all going through some tough times in their lives. New schools, new friends, new experiences. It is so hard sometimes to not just swoop in and rescue them. We try to make sure we cover everything, begin and end everything, struggles to victories, with prayer. It doesn't always take away the hurts and provide immediate answers, but knowing God is listening and that we’ll eventually see His answer is comforting to my heart. The struggles can remain, but faith is the corner.

Zig Ziglar was an amazing motivational speaker who recently passed away. He was incredible. I read his books and went to see him when he was speaking in town. Millions of people took to heart his teachings and changed their lives forever. Once when I had the chance to meet him in person I had my Bible with me and asked him to autograph it. He was a mighty man of and for God. I was seeking to really make a difference in the world, to fill a huge hole in my heart with meaning. He wrote, "To Thomas, Romans 10:9," Zig Ziglar. Romans 10:9 says, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." That day, that gift of a specific Scripture verse began to help me fill that space in my heart.

So I guess the thread I am trying to weave with here is that the heart you feel with is real, important and needs care. We are all designed perfectly to do something amazing. All the hardships and victories, the good and the bad, all those experiences have prepared each of us to do something incredible. For me that journey began when I prayed that prayer Zig Ziglar shared with me so long ago. 

Yes, the chicken fried bacon in Snook, Texas, is incredible. I love a whole plate of sweet potato fries from anywhere. A burger with everything on it is my favorite meal. Are these the best choices for me today if I am trying to care for the heart muscle in my chest? Not always. I know to be careful, smart.

Ah, but it is the emotional heart inside that is always hungry for more. The new year is upon us. Seize the day, don't wait. Ask God into your life and begin the adventure you never thought possible. The one your heart is seeking in those still and quiet moments -- today it begins. Romans 10:9.