Annabelli Mushrooms and Great Americans

Dennis Annabelli is an amazing guy. He is one of those people with whom I can sit and talk for hours on end. Lots of times when I drop by his office we get into trouble because time flies by and we aren't paying much attention. I have always loved the stories of hard working Americans who make it in life, and Dennis is one of those folks.

Recently one Saturday just before lunch I dropped by to see him at his office. We started chatting about life in general and what was going on with both of us. As the conversation went on he began telling me stories of when he was a young boy and his work in the family mushroom business. This was a story I had never heard.

He told how his father would rouse them early in the morning and they would work all day cutting mushrooms. All day was 12 or 14 hours with a short break for a sandwich, then right back at it. Three rows running the length of the barns, hundreds of feet long. The first row on your knees, the second bending over and the third off a ladder. Working side by side with the migrant workers and never letting up.

He would miss three days of school during each harvest session and when he showed back up and his teachers would ask him where he was, he said he would show them his thumb. The dirt from the work would stain their thumbs black for days after. The teachers knew that the farm boys were working, and that was that.

The family mushroom business thrived for years. The chores and the hard work were never questioned; when dad said to get something done you just did it. Eventually his father went to work for one of the big soup companies, and the mushroom chores were done. 

Today many kids have no idea what a family-owned farm or business takes to run. Many would have a hard time just telling you what their parent does for a living. The hard work that came with the mushroom business would be out of the question for most young people today.

David M. Kauppi, president Mid Market Capital, says historically less than 13 percent of third generation kids raised in a family business will stay in the business. When business founders were asked why they were successful, many say it is the long days -- up at 3 a.m. and down late -- that kept them from spending the money and thus the capital to stay successful. Today the lifestyle and a taste of the good life many of the founders’ kids enjoy keep them from sharing the passion and commitment of the business founder. They like the perks but lack the drive. Sounds familiar to lots of parents. I suspect.

The Bible tells us to work hard. 2 Thessalonians 3:10-12, “For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.” And Pope Paul VI agreed, "All life demands struggle. Those who have everything given to them become lazy, selfish and insensitive to the real values of life. The very striving and hard work that we so constantly try to avoid is the major building block in the person we are today." 

Some say the introduction of the air conditioner to the American public in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s is when Americans began to forget how to work hard. Many blame the introduction of the computer and television as the end.

Hard work is seldom something anyone wants to do day-in and day-out. For many it is just what they do. You get up, get the job done, then you do it again the next day. We are gifted by God to be in a country where if we do get up, work hard, strive and push, we can be successful and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Many lives have been given to afford us this the gift that is America -- a place where anyone who is willing to work hard and stay out of trouble can do mighty things.

My buddy, Dennis, was raised old school and has never considered not working hard and providing for his family. He is not alone. I was moved by his story of the mushroom farm because he was so matter of fact, so sincere, and the descriptions of the hard work were profound. 

"When my dad said something, we just did it. We never complained or questioned whether we had to do it -- we just did it," Annabelli explained. In his eyes you can see a sense of love for family and a deep respect for his father. The hard days as a child are now filtered by time, and the memories are empowering and joyful.

When we looked up there were two employees standing by his door waiting to talk to him, his phone had rang twice and his iPhone beeped once with a text message. Dang it, we did it again. We got carried away in conversation. I love that.

Mountain Top Spartan's Journal Page

How do you describe a "mountaintop" experience? You can tell people about it, you can describe in great detail each element. You can show them your scars or pictures. Some folks will be drawn into the storyline or experience with you; some may think you’re cool or weird. But when the sun sets, when the calendar changes, it is only you, maybe a group of folks who were there with you, who really get to log the experience into their life journal. 

A "mountaintop" experience to me is one that changes you from the inside. I have never experienced one that was not a spiritual event when I had them. They change how I think, how I treat others, how I spend my time. But the point is they change you in a deep way. I have had a small handful of MT experiences in the last five or so years, the most recent one was with my youngest son, and it was amazing. 

The morning air was cool at 6 a.m. The sun was threatening to light the horizon as we loaded into the truck to make the drive. My youngest, Jon-Michael (JM-14), his friend Ethan (15), Jeff and me. Jeff and I were the oldies in the truck; he is early 40s and I am 53. We were all signed up and have been planning to race in the Spartan Race, a grueling obstacle race of around six miles through the Hill Country of Texas. Climbing walls, running, climbing more walls, carrying or dragging concrete blocks, crawling through narrow pipes, rolling under barbed wire through the mud, scaling more walls and the list went on. Brutal. 

Why do you choose to do something like this? Why does anyone want to do something so hard, so grueling? Because you want to prove something to yourself, because you have been challenged, because everyone else is doing it? I can't speak for my teammates. I think each of us were there for different reasons. For me, I wanted to prove I could do it, all of it, without skipping an obstacle, without giving up, to push myself into a zone I had rarely experienced.

 

The purpose of military seal training is to make sure those guys will push through whatever they are confronted with at anytime for any reason. They are trained mentally, emotionally, physically to be more than they ever expected they could be. I am not comparing myself to one of those beasts, but it was one of the reasons I had to do this. To know I could push through the wall that keeps me at one level, that I was capable at 53 to "do hard things." 

I was also there because I wanted to see Ethan, one of the most committed young athletes I have ever known, kick the big boys’ butts. I wanted to have another page in my life journal with my dear friend Jeff and one that only the four of us would understand fully. But moreso, it was to do it with my son, Jon-Michael.

At 14 years old, boys tend to push back from family. They test the limits and boundaries. It's not unusual or unhealthy, it's just boys. For a while JM and I have struggled to find a connection. He has become bored with the things we used to do together. I struggle with it, and I know it is not just him. I have failed or dropped the ball so many times. But on this day, this event, I was calling for God to pull us together and create a connection, if not for just a day.

The first couple miles of the race were flat out running. The pace was a bit faster than my usual, so I had to push myself. JM is skinny and runs like a deer. He would appear and drop back, dash past and disappear again. There were a couple hundred running, and I was trying to find my pace and focus on me, but he taunted me with a smile and dust from his shoes as he jetted past. At about the middle of the course was an obstacle that included huge concrete blocks connected to a rope that ran up through a pulley. The objective was to pull the block all the way to the top before you could proceed. We arrived at the blocks at the same time. He was lighter than the block, and he struggled to get it to the top. I wanted to help him so badly, but I couldn't. I waited a few minutes after I was done then took off with him still struggling to complete the task. A few minutes later he showed up at the pipe crawl. A long crawl through a pipe where the only thing that got you to the end were your elbows dragging your body. That was the last I saw of him. He blew through the pipe and up the steep hill top before he was gone.

I think for the first half he was watching out for me. He has not said anything and I have not asked, but I think he was making sure the old man was not going to fall on his face, my heart explode from the strain or just not be able to get through it. When he saw I was not going to give up, he took off. When I finally reached the finish he was already there, cuts, scrapes, bruises, blood, sprained wrist and all. 

Proverbs 2: My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding — indeed, if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure,
then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God. For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. He holds success in store for the upright, he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, for he guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones.

Then you will understand what is right and just and fair—every good path. For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you. 

Again I am holding back the tears as I consider all that happened that day, personally, physically, but mostly between my son and me. If only for a fleeting time, if only for now, we have written a page together in our life journals. It was hard, it was a test, it was amazing, it was perfect in so many ways and it can never be taken away. 

Seek the mountaintop, push through the valleys and ascend the other side. You can do it. You can do hard things. God will show you the way. He will hold you up. The true loving Father never, ever leaves His child behind. 

Today is just a few days after the race, but today I am anew, I am a Spartan. I will eat meat from the grill, I will drink ice tea from a large cup, I will plan the next mountaintop, I will take more Motrin because this Spartan is a sore Spartan.

Concrete Bridges and Pickles

The thick concrete bridge holds hundreds of thousands of cars, trucks, busses and other vehicles each week as they pass through the center of the city. Many of the drivers are listening to the radio, talking on their phones, conversing with other passengers or adrift in thought. To most of those passing by the bridge is unnoticed, except maybe the slight bump when it starts and when it finishes. But it is under that very bridge that the miracles happen, some subtle, some life changing right then and there.  

Brother Duane was the Spirit lead leader of the drifting and seemingly unwanted crowd that gathered here. He came to this spot in the cool mornings of spring, the sweltering days of summer, the freezing winters, rain or shine. He was called to the people here. Where a father goes so goes his family and Duane 's wife and kids often came along. They prayed with the lonely, they handed out sandwiches, they sang and cried, laughed and listened. It was an amazing time.

Then came the day Duane heard a new calling and moved his family to the country. It was a drastic change but exciting and it seemed a much needed time for rest and rejuvenation. His fifth child on the way and ideas for spending time with the little ones in a new, still, quiet place seemed perfect.

There was still lingering business and needs in the big city and trips back and forth were just a requirement. One day after completing the city tasks, Duane was driving back to the country when something went wrong. He was killed in a single vehicle accident.

The oldest of the five is precious Esalem. A petite, small blond girl with a infinite smile. She is energetic to a fault and like most young girls has more words to share than can be released in a day. Her father had been talking to her about the things that made living in the country fun. One of the ideas was hunting. He had promised to take her soon and as a young girl she build a world around the expectation and time to come with her daddy. They would never be able to take the adventure together.

I met Esalem just a few weeks after her daddy died. Her mom had heard of KOZ (Kids Outdoor Zone) and that we had a hunting trip for girls planned soon. Esalem was added to the list and was waiting on our porch early as we loaded the gear for the hunt. All the girls were excited as we made our way to the ranch. Esalem's mom had warned me to not allow her to only eat pickles, that she would if we let her, and during the drive we decided that would be her nickname, Pickles.

Each night, after the hunting, hiking, shooting and fun there were still quiet moments when I talked with the girls. Broken dreams, broken families and wounded hearts poured out in the safe confines of the ranch house. Pickles shared her heart. She told how just weeks before her daddy had promised to take her hunting and she would never get to go with him. Another girl shared with Pickles that she too had lost her dad in a similar way and how she makes it, sometimes, day by day. 

It's been several years now since that first outing and  Pickles has become a dear addition to our growing girls ministry. A couple weeks ago we went back for our third annual trip to the ranch where we spent that first weekend. Again, her heart was tender and open. We talked long into the night about how she felt and how sometimes, lots of times, it still hurts. She was especially emotional this trip. My heart cried.

Not far from the concrete bridge where Pickles daddy once shared the kindness of our loving Father is a small ministry coffee shop that is open to anyone who needs a break, rest, prayer or a meal.  Some of the same people who had gathered under the bridge frequent the coffee shop. On Easter I was invited there to serve ice cream and food for a few hours. Pickles was there. I watch in amazement as she moved about the volunteers and itinerant. She told me stories about some of the homeless who were there, their character traits, joyful and scary antics and quirks. She knew the people, the place was comfortable to her. The Spirit about her was one of joy.

We are blessed to mentor a lot of kids in our ministry. So many kids today are considered unwanted burdens. The crisis of  the fatherless is growing each day and those without the adult male role model are fighting odds that are not in their favor. Dropping out of school, pregnancy, jail, drugs and more are almost inevitable when there is no father or male mentor in the lives of a child. The temporary or live-in boyfriends make things worse. 

Even though Pickles daddy wasn't there in body at the coffee house on Easter, I could see him clear as day. His legacy in his precious towheaded daughter brought joy and happiness to those she interacted with. His work ethic, his love of the Lord and his ear for the Holy Spirit when He is present are gifts Pickles has embraced and understands at a level beyond her years. 

 As Jesus was preparing His disciples for His departure He told them in John 14: 25-27, “All this I have spoken while still with you. ²⁶ But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. ²⁷ Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." 

So many kids never get the blessing of a Godly father's legacy. Although it is going to be tough, Pickles daddy left her gifts beyond measure here on earth. She is a good kid. No, she is an amazing kid and I am blessed by her every time I get to come alongside her and hear her heart, laugh with her, pray with her, teach her about hunting and fishing. I have probably let her eat to many pickles and talk me into letting her stay up just a tad bit later at the camps. The other day I let her order the Extra Long Chili Cheese Dog at Dairy Queen, it was almost as big as she is tall. She ate every bite of it and ice cream to boot. A joyful indulgence for one of God' s lambs and my little angels. Reach out - change a life, help someone else, love on your family. Email Carla at Packed for Life to help at the coffee shop, info on Church Under The Bridge or donate. info@packedforlife.org

Lost Boys and Cold Rain

It was cold out that night and the wind was steady from the north. The last ride dropped the two boys off about a mile back at the overpass that took him home. There was nothing around this exit of the interstate, so the only option they had was to get back to the road and start hitchhiking again. Few cars traveled past as the midnight hour came and left. They walked on. The dark morning crept along, and they were tired and hungry walking alone in silence. Then the rain came, a slow drizzle but steady.

It was just another adventure for the boys. I use the word “adventure” because in written form it seems so exciting. Traveling the country, not a worry in the world, no one to tell you what to do or when to do it. It seemed a Huckleberry holiday for the boys when it started, but the excitement was short-lived.

Most boys at 14 and 16 would be in bed on a Tuesday night resting before the next day of school. Many would have had dinner, maybe dessert and some TV. Maybe the other boys would be tired from a baseball game or a night at church youth group. These two boys left just days before after the first day of school; neither was registered there anyway. The youngest of the two walked the hall of the school that first day not knowing where to go or what to do; no one registered him. For most kids the first day of high school is an amazing, scary journey. For him, it was just another day of confusion, disappointment and anger.

Recently I found myself walking a back creek into the woods to a camp site built between the fallen walls of an old barn. I was searching for a boy who had run away a few weeks before. He was seen in the backwoods here, and I wanted a chance to talk with him before the police did.
The makeshift camp had tarps covering two sides of the dilapidated barn. A pair of tents was erected under the rusting tin roof and debris that included burnt wood, broken glass, bike parts and canned foods scattered about. Shuffling around the camp was a thin, short woman who seemed busy. As I began to ask about the boy I was searching for. She responded with a soft crackly voice, “Yes, I know him. He comes here every once in a while. I have not seen him in a few days, though.”

She shared with me that she had cared for him and fed him. She told me how she counseled him to get back to school, to go home because if not he would turn out like her -- 33 and living in a tent in the woods. Amazingly she told me how she had walked the same trails and did the same things he was doing 18 years earlier. Skipping from the same school, confused, rebellious, lost right there in those same woods.

She had made this her home for now, and she cared for the lost boy I was looking for. I was amazed, sad and concerned all at the same time. Why would this boy choose the woods in the cold, rain and dirt over home just blocks away? Why would she choose the same?

In the book of James, 1:27, Christ tells us to care for the widows and the orphans. As a matter of fact I think that the No. 1 thing mentioned in the Bible, over and over, is caring for the widows and orphans. I think that translates to lost kids and homeless, the weaker vessels, the hurting.
I lived a life lost once. I was the young boy who left school that day, my first day of high school. My parents had split, and I refused to go with either one. I was a trouble boy. My father fought alcohol, and my mom was just trying to care for my little brothers and sisters. It is a story so many can tell.

That day as we walked that dark interstate I remember looking across a huge open pasture and seeing a small farmhouse with the porch light on in the distance. I dreamed of going to the house, knocking on the door and being taken in and cared for. I dreamed of a loving, caring family, a warm place to stay, a safe place. I had to decide then and there if I was going to breakdown and cry or stuff away the feelings I was having into a place they would not take me out. I decided to go hard. To this day I struggle allowing the emotions to surface.

I was angry for years that my friends got to be at home, go to school, live a normal life. It wasn’t until just a few years ago I realized that the ministry I now lead, thrive in, live for is the direct result of all that “training” I did on the streets and in those cold, lonely places. I know about not feeling a part of, not understanding why I did something and how much it means to have someone believe in you. I believe we can use our hardships, trials and pains to live out God’s ministry in our lives. Each of us has the authority to tell our story with all the ugliness and beauty because it is our story.

Today, I offer the old farmhouse light to wounded and wandering kids, and it feels right, safe, like God’s plan. What is your story? For what has God trained you? Into whose life are you to speak? If a young woman living in the woods can speak into the life of a lost boy, share her wisdom, her insight, her pain and knowledge, can’t we all?

A Steel Wheeled Skateoard and an Elderly Couple

There are many times in my life I wish I had done something differently. I know hindsight is 20/20, but some things just haunt me. I am not talking about the things we do just about every day, foot-in-mouth slip ups, although those can be regretful as well. I am speaking of life-changing things that stay with us.

Once when I was young, I was visiting my mom in Birmingham, Ala. Her home was at the bottom of a tall hill, and the street on which she lived curved from top to bottom past her drive. It was a rough asphalt street with scattered rock and loose gravel. I was much younger, maybe 15 or 16. I found, somewhere around her house, an old skateboard with steel wheels on a small wooden board.

The idea was to get some real speed going as I gracefully cut back and forth across the street. I had rarely ridden a skateboard to that point, but I was young, invincible and, after all, how hard could it be? The ride part was short lived. I don’t think I made it more than a third of the way when I took a dive into the asphalt. I slid across the surface, and it was not pretty. This was a pretty dumb thing to do.

When I first started driving, I lived in Houston, and I got a job as a delivery driver. The traffic back then seemed just as bad as it is today. I remember one day as I crept along in bumper-to-bumper, slow moving traffic when I looked to my right and saw a lady begin to scream. She began to wave her arms around and scream louder. I could only see from a certain angle down into her car through the back window, but I could see the driver, an elderly man, using a stiffened arm to pull on the right side of the steering wheel and they crept over and up into a driveway just next to them.

The older gentleman must have been experiencing a heart attack, and his wife was frightened and didn’t know what to do. In his valor he was trying to maneuver the car off the road. I don’t know what happened after that; the traffic started to move, and I went with it.

To this very day I regret not stopping to help that couple. I replay the video over and over. That was 30 or 40 years ago, and it still bothers me.

The list of things I wish I had done differently is long, but it doesn’t include things like the skateboard wreck; that was just a dumb idea. It is the things from the heart, the things that have been buried there. It is the life-changing moments, many when I could have stepped up and helped, stepped up and made a difference.

So often today you see news or video stories where a hurt person on a sidewalk or street side was ignored. It is not uncommon for you to see people walking past, talking on their cell phones looking the other way as they go by the person in need.

The parable of the Good Samaritan is exactly what I am talking about. Jesus tells us about a man robbed, beaten and lying on the side of the road. Many walk by him, crossing to the other side of the road to avoid the hassle. The man robbed and beaten was a different race or nationality; stopping would have disturbed their personal schedule and maybe cost them something. But there was the Samaritan, the one who took care of him, paid for additional care and a little extra while he was laid up. Jesus tells us that the Samaritan is whom we should model our lives after. That is the model I want to live by, the one where I make decisions like that every time.

Yep, it can be a hassle and inconvenient to help someone or do something out of your comfort zone. The scabs and imbedded gravel in my palms was painful, but I laugh about it now. That day sitting in traffic could have been nothing more than an aggravated old lady yelling at her husband for not being a good driver or maybe she wanted a shake at the Jack in the Box; I don’t think so but maybe.

I feel I know what was happening that day, and I wish I had helped. I am motivated by that today to not let it happen again. Our past experiences are our ministry. You are uniquely qualified to help others because of the lessons, regrets, pains and accomplishments of your past. I can assure you, I know for a fact, that it is a bad idea to get on a steel wheeled skateboard pointed downhill on an asphalt, gravel-covered road for any reason. I am an expert on that topic. I pray that on that day, many years ago, a Samaritan was passing and helped an elderly woman and her husband. I have to rest on that and God’s grace today, and I do.

Politics and Kids

Just a few weeks ago my daughter text me and asked what I thought was a pretty important question about a person in politics. She followed that with a line of other questions that immediately had my guard up, I text her back, “what are you hearing, who is talking about this stuff.” She text back that she was in class and it was her teacher. I asked who the teacher was and told her I would get back to her.

Politics are almost painful today. The average American does not trust a politician and it doesn’t matter which political preference you choose, folks just don’t believe most of the things they say or do.

I fear for the kids today who are not taught the art of rhetoric and rarely learn to think from an informed position and not just a sense of entitlement or emotion. We all fall into the trap, making a judgment call on something or someone when we are really, truthfully, uninformed. I have looked at how someone is dressed and disqualified them plenty of times. When you present yourself a certain way you are going to have to expect that. I try to give people the benefit of doubt and God has slapped me around plenty in this area.

Recently I was invited to the Texas State Capital building and the Youth & Government state conference. Youth and Government is a national program of the YMCA that involves thousands of teens nationwide in state-organized model-government programs.

The students write then present bill ideas to a panel of volunteer judges. The bills the students proposed this year were everything from gay marriage to an open carry firearm law. I sat in on the open carry bill and I was very impressed with the debate that followed the introduction of the bill. Kids with, mostly, informed questions came forward and talked about their concerns or convictions regarding the bill. It was eventually passed to a round of applause, wow, cool.

Devon Dollahon, a participant, had invited me to the event. His family has always been interested in the politics and his grandfather was a great man and a lawyer. He was there with hundreds of others kids from public, private and home schooling class rooms. The students inside the capital had on suites with ties worn in the proper manner, girls with conservative dresses. They were all polite, seemed quite well informed and understood the political system. At one point as I looked out over the house floor from the balcony I was choked up, I was so proud of these kids.

Some of these kids will eventually be the politicians that will govern our country. I pray they have an experience with the Lord before they do and that they understand biblical principles and history. Those all combined are what makes for good governing of a free people.

I got on the phone that day immediately after my daughter gave me the name of her teacher. “I can’t believe you called him, I was sitting there, right in his class, uggg,” she exclaimed unhappily. I began to ask a list of questions on the materials, the purpose and the sources. I disagreed with some of his information, other parts made sense after he explained his approach. But all in all, I think his personal political emotions drive his lesson plans.

My daughter and I continue to talk and I rebuke, share and teach her other points and thoughts on the things that her teacher says to the class. It has been great for us and I enjoy the conversation with her. I worry for the kids who don’t get to see both sides of the debate. Most will be forever lost in a one sided and murky ocean that is apparently rising from global warming, entrepreneurial greed and moral judgments they don’t want to hear.

When Jesus said “give unto Cesar what is Cesar’s“ he did not mean to allow the government to do almost all of what it does today, He just meant don’t break the law by not paying taxes. Jesus is clear about our moral, social, personal behavior and character. He spells it out clearly and it is not emotional rhetoric.

This country needs real prayer and some leadership that is going to remove a lot of the grey areas. It needs kids who say yes mam’ and yes sir while looking the adult in the eye with a firm handshake. The boys need to open the doors for the girls, the girls need to say thank you. The kids need to learn what to do as the next generation in life and politics. It matters.

Devon, good job pal, I am proud of you, your dad is proud of you and I bet your grandpa is looking down from heaven, he is proud too, maybe the most.

The Whole Thing Is About More, Not Less...

The whole focus on New Year’s has traditionally been, less. Promises to not eat as much, not watch so much television, not drink so much, not be away from the family as much. The list goes on and on. Commitment lists are long and, for most, short-lived. Lots of the things we want to give up on each year are hard and have so engrained themselves in our lives that you might as well pick up a school bus and balance it on your toe.

Years ago I had a wise man tell me that if I wanted to do something for the new year, make a change, commit to something small. Plan something doable. I always thought that was good advice. It can be worse to try and fail a big goal than to feel the gift of accomplishing something, albeit small. But it is not the nature of most, including myself, to do something small. I want to pick a mountain to move and dig in. I have also failed many times, and the disappointment was hard each time.

Setting big goals are important. Having high expectations and planning and executing hard things are good, essential and thrilling. When the little town of Mason, Texas, saw the State Championship in their sights they never stepped back. They had never won the championship, but they never allowed themselves to think they could not win it, either. David was but a small shepherd boy, and no one thought he was capable of taking on the giant Philistine warrior, Goliath. You know how that story ended.

I have thought long and hard about the real way to make a change in the way I live my life, my health and my walk with the Lord. It seems to boil down to more, not less. More Bluebell ice cream, more big cigars, more couch time, television and hunting. Wrong. That is what my flesh wants. That would be easiest, I think, and I have to say on so many levels it draws me in. I love all that stuff to an extreme; therefore lies a big chunk of the problem.

What I have concluded is that more will actually be less. More reading, more time in quiet reflection with God, more time with my family, more music, more walking uneven ground, more patience, more joy… I know from past experiences these things bring the changes, lifestyle, life vibe I love. They are the things that truly make me happy and feel good. I know from experience that when I am doing these things the things I would really like to decrease do, naturally, by themselves.

More can be hard too, maybe even harder than less. There were 12 guys who walked with Jesus for three years every day. They saw His miracles over and over. He even empowered them to perform miracles. They saw the sickest of the sick healed, they saw the dead brought back to life, they saw compassion and they lived in council by Jesus Himself for years, and still they struggled to get it. They were human as we all are and the things of the world, the lies we live with, are confusing and take us out of the game over and over. The first sentence in the literary classic “The Road Less Traveled” is, “Life is difficult.” It is.

Those 12 guys who walked with Jesus were slow to get it. But He came back one last time, standing on the shore as they returned from a barren fishing trip. He called to them as He had before, telling them to drop their nets and haul in their catch. There, on shore, was a small fire where He was cooking fish for them to share for breakfast. He loved them. He forgave Peter for denying Him. He told them, go, do what I have taught you. Guys, it’s time -- do hard things. And they did, most dying for professing His love and grace to those who needed to be loved the most, those who were sick, lonely and downtrodden.

The biggest change for me in recent years was one that I really did not plan specifically but was actually lead to. It was a flame. It was a heartfelt ache. It was obedience. It was a hunger from since I was a kid that brought it on. How do you explain the feeling you get when you know you’re loved?

Someone once asked Billy Graham, "If Christianity is valid, why is there so much evil in the world?"

To this the famous preacher replied, "With so much soap, why are there so many dirty people in the world? Christianity, like soap, must be personally applied if it is to make a difference in our lives."

What do I want to accomplish this year? I want to do more. I want to do more with others trying to explain that feeling inside that drives me today. The feeling I hungered for all my life. I will read more books and spend more time hiking and listening to God’s quiet words that encourage and counsel me. I am going to look for joy, pray for joy.

Am I going to quit Bluebell cookies and cream, quit watching television or balance a school bus on my toe? Probably not. But like those guys having breakfast that morning with Christ on the beach, I have felt His presence, and I am not afraid of brokenness. I am in for more.

It is a Christmas tradition for many to send out the year in review Christmas letter to friends and family. This year I wrote one to the mother of my best friend.

Dear Ruth,

I am not sure what to say except, thank you. Thank you for taking me in when I was lost and wandering the neighborhood back so many years ago. I don’t remember exactly how I came to be there or how I became friends with your youngest, Danny, but at the time you gave me a place to stay, sleep, shower, eat. I believe now, that day, the Holy Spirit began to work on me.

It was not too many years before I remember walking down an interstate highway in the middle of Alabama. It was the middle of the night. I was in my mid-teens. It was cold; I was hungry, alone, tired, and it began to rain. I remember looking across a wide open pasture at an old farmhouse; the light on the porch was the only thing you could see for miles. I remember wishing from deep in my soul that I could go to that house and be part of the family that lived there. I longed for the warmth inside and dreamed they would care for me. Your home became that safe haven to me for an important season of my life.

At the time you probably could not have picked a worse influence on your youngest son. When my parents split and my father slipped into the darkness of his alcoholism the lack of a mentor caused an open wound that oozed pain and poor decisions. I walked out of the house and began the life of a teenage vagabond. The questions of what do I do, how do I do it, who am I were the questions for which I lacked answers; the things I did to try and answer them were way off. I was not a bad kid inside; a lack of guidance for so many years had me looking to fill the emptiness I felt in my heart with things that would never last -- things that hurt others and put myself and those I influenced in peril.

But God uses everything to His good. You and Mr. D. were different, and I was moved by how your family operated. You talked about things like politics and God, right, wrong and Scripture. When I went to church with you, I met folks who seemed to truly care for each other and shared a God, His Son and the Holy Spirit -- something completely foreign to me. In that small church I committed to Christ and was baptized. I had a mentor give me a Bible -- the one I use to this day.

I can’t say that at that moment everything changed for me. I eventually drifted off and spent more time wandering about. Life happened, and I had some more learning to do. We saw each other over the years,, and you were always loving, polite and sincere. We had wonderful conversations about life and politics.

But it was that year, 1984, when you opened your home to a scruffy and precarious boy that I was introduced to the loving Christ I know today as my Lord and Savior. It was one of the most important seasons of my life. That time at your home, the unconditional love I found there, taught me that the things I was trying to use to fill my heart would never be enough. I was never the same after that.

Today, I live in that old farmhouse, not literally, but the home where God, family and ministry are the priority. On any given day our home is filled with boys and girls who don’t always have the support they need to figure out who they are and how to make decisions. Some come from broken homes, some abused, some just lost for no real reason I can see except the evil one wants to add to his dominion. But they are just like every kid that comes into this world. They need a guide, or guides, to show them the way, to love on them, to care about them. If they can be introduced as I was to a loving and caring Father, there is hope. They will never be able to deny that He is real and they are never truly alone.

There are people in each of our lives who form the character, the essence, the foundation of who we are. It can be a parent, a coach, a pastor or a passing friend. They can come and go at any time carving out the design of our life. In His perfect timing and His flawless ways God introduced me to Ruth. I met a loving and caring woman who cherished her family, family traditions and her Godly Father. You probably don’t have any idea how profoundly you affected my life. You showed me it is important to think and that doing something, being somebody, is significant. I acquired the desire to read at your home. Your influence expanded my ability to dream and conquer the fears I found so often in the dark and lonely places I wandered. You gave me the deep desire to love God, love my family and love others.

The Ruth in the Bible is a woman of extraordinary faith, love and commitment. She honors Naomi, her mother in-law, without question, and she trusts her heavenly Father with everything. God must have loved her dearly. Her legacy became eternal as the grandmother of David. My Ruth is so much like her namesake. She has inspired untold numbers to Christ and to stand firm and hold on to their commitments and beliefs.

In my life, Mrs. D., know I am forever grateful. I want you to know that those things I saw back then move me to inspire, care for, show the love of Christ to boys who are where I was. I have been blessed to lead many to the Lord, which is, in many ways, the heritage of you caring for me. Eternal and forever they will be in heaven and their families changed for generations we will never know.

I am honored to have been one of your many students. As Christmas comes and I reflect on the loving kindness I have been shown, know that I love you and think about you often.

I hope you are proud of me today.

God bless you and keep you, Tom Greaney

Lies and the Filthy Dull Sword

The captain yelled, “All hands on deck” as the enemy came close to ram the merchant ship. Everyone knew the battle was about to begin and that some would be wounded or die the slow death from a filthy dull sword of cold and rusty steel thrust through their gut. It was brutal, and there was no way you could allow fear in.

The movie “Saving Private Ryan” was horribly graphic in showing what our soldiers endured as they landed on Omaha beach on June 6, 1944. It was World War II, and there were no guided missiles launched from miles away to clear the bunkers ahead of them. The men who assaulted the beach claimed “fear be damned.” Their friends and fellow Americans fell at their sides as they pushed on.

So often we find things in our lives that seem impossible to overcome or too scary to even attempt. Many times there are people in our lives who have told us that we could never achieve that goal or that it really isn’t for us. Fear comes and we allow it to speak into our lives. “You can’t run very far, so forget the idea of that for exercise.” “You never made it out of high school; writing a book is stupid.” Fear breaks our heart’s desires, and we fall victim to just living today as best we can and wait for the night.

But it is those moments, when the evil one speaks and crushes our spirit that we must stand and fight. There are times I just don’t allow myself to “go there” and push ahead. Almost every time I run I have that battle. For many of us it is the still quiet moments when we are alone and vulnerable that the attacks come.

Texas musician and songwriter Pat Green has a powerful song, “In the Middle of the Night,” that so clearly describes how we must be prepared for those lies. How they come to us when we are weakest.

When there's no one around
And the silence in your soul is the only sound
In the darkness that surrounds you
Are you hiding from the light
When you finally hit rock bottom
Will you do what's wrong or right
You're gonna find out what you're made of...
In the middle of the night

I realized that the moments when we are faced with decision are not hardest when with our friends, therapist or family. It is those times in the middle of the night, when we are out alone driving or on a trip. Those are the times the evil one comes, the pirates storm the boat, that is our beachfront in Normandy.

For me, today, having Christ and a heart for the Lord has made me a far better warrior in those moments. I have tools like the Bible and the hunger for His love, to please Him, that drives me to not click on that link, not buy that whatever, not stretch the truth, not allow fear to enter, to say no.

This Thanksgiving you may be blessed to spend time with your family. I say blessed because I have lost some close to me, and as I get older the things that matter most are changing. You may be confronted face-to-face with a battle that in the past has made you weary. There may be anger toward a brother, sister, mom or dad. Maybe the old house brings back feelings you don’t like. A spirit of antagonism or frustration may be something you recognize as you cross the threshold. How long have we lived in an “it is what it is” situation? How long have we just accepted the lie that that it will never change, that they are never going to say they’re sorry, that I didn’t do anything, there is nothing wrong with it, that we can do it every once in a while, that everyone else lives this way, too? That, my friend, is where your battle begins.

I have so many things in my life that I want to do. So many amends and so many opportunities to care for others and improve how I love on those who are closest to me. Dropping out of school 40 years ago does not define me. Having had a drug problem and all the terrible things with which I lived and did all those years does not define me. Those things in your life do not have to define you. Do we have to just put our heads down and push forward some days to run those last two laps or even just get out of bed? Yes. Do we have to call on God to help us forgive those who have wounded us so deeply? For me, yes.

I have never been faced with an angry pirate wielding a rusty sword or had to charge the front lines. But the battles I do fight, the ones that are my Normandy, are real and hard and the wounds can be deep. The blessing for me today is I am equipped with tools and a Supreme Commander who knows me, my gifts and failings. He is always there even if I don’t see Him. His heart is something I can feel; it is real. And those times, in the middle of the night when I am alone, He is there reminding me I am good and smart and loved. He never lets me down. Victory.

The Handshake and the Deal

When I first got married I ran a construction company. I actually met my wife working on one of the properties she managed. Once we were married, she began to see the behind-the-scene workings of the business and how I interacted with the men who worked for me.

One of the young men who had worked for us for quite some time was a handsome young buck with a great smile and knew how to interact with the clients. He was always a favored worker because he was so good with customers and usually got his work completed on time. My wife thought he was fantastic.

But as with any person or employee there are almost always things that come up, problems or personal habits that can be hard on a business operator. My star buck started to get to work late, over and over; not a lot, 10 or 15 minutes, but it was every day. For the most part he would get us all laughing or create a diversion and lighten the moods of everyone; everyone but me.

I talked to him for weeks trying to explain how important it was to be there earlier than his crew. It was important for him to be the example and if he was always late then they would think it was OK for them to be late, as well. There are a lot of reasons why I had to tell him he only had one more chance and that day he seemed to take it seriously. The next day I took his keys and fired him when he came in late.

A lot of folks thought I had made a big mistake. Customers were asking for him and a few of the guys on his team left soon after.

I, however, was not moved by their pleas and angry comments. I have a rule I live by – if a man (or woman) shakes my hand and agrees to do something then I expect them to do their part, no excuses. If I have agreed to pay a certain amount for certain hours to do certain things, then I will do it and I have never missed a payroll.

I know a lot of guys, men, who still show up late to things because they struggle getting out of bed or they call in sick because they don’t feel like doing something. There are guys who cancel because they get a better offer and abandon obligations they have made previously. I don’t profess perfection in any area but I do, however, want my kids to grow up and respect the obligations they make to others. I will be the example; they will have to choose if they follow it.

There were plenty of times I underbid a job or just plain goofed up and to finish the job it was going to cost us. We completed the job as agreed. It hurt and some folks may have walked on their commitments; we never did.

Michael Jordan said, “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. Twenty-six times, I’ve been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” When MJ had a practice, he arrived early and stayed a few minutes later than everyone else. When he was young he shot the ball over and over. He didn’t do the least and expect the most. He didn’t blow off his team mates to do a Pepsi commercial or hang with Tiger Woods. He was committed and showed up.

Jesus tells the story of the wealthy man giving three servants gold coins to keep while he was away. Two invested them and one buried his. Now, we won’t go through the whole verse but to the ones who took their coins and invested them, who took their obligation seriously he replied: Luke 19:17 “‘Well done, my good servant!’ the master replied. ‘Because you have been trustworthy in a very small matter, you will take charge of much.’”

Trust, success, obligation and a man’s word all matter. A handshake, a nod, the words “I will,” “I agree” and “Yes” matter. In a world that, for many, consists of many gray areas, in-betweens, maybes and modest amounts of true commitment, we can be fooled into thinking that it is that way for everyone and, thus, acceptable. It is not.

Today we live in a world that needs strong commitment. A person who has a reputation of doing what they say and saying what they mean stands out. They lead and set the bar for those who choose to follow.

I don’t expect a man to do something that would hurt his family, himself or others. I know that there are times when we are fooled into something that turns out to be different than what we were told or how it was represented. Discernment, prayer, asking for council from a wise or trained and trusted friend is important is these situations.

But the basic rule of thumb when it comes to honor, trust and reputation is simple. When the alarm goes off, get up. When you agree to do a job for a man, do it even if it costs you. When God speaks to you, listen and obey. Stand up for what you believe, do what you say, get your brothers back, get there early and stay late, give yours plus one.

Trust is the key to many a door when lost, so the opportunity to open those doors is lost as well. Yeah, I’m a hard guy sometimes but the basic truths remain. I get too nervous to hit the snooze, just my luck that would be the one day I should have been there. That would be the day Jesus comes to the coffee shop to just talk, the rich guy is walking around handing out $100 bills, the biggest buck walks past my deer blind and the kitchen remodel guy on TV was at the Home Depot looking for a kitchen to redo, free! No, I’m getting up, we need a dishwasher and stove.

Joe Mayes, West Texas Preacher

This was a note to my pastor and dear friend recently when I was not at our weekly men's meeting to provide him with a Staff, Sword and Shepard's Crook. I was in charge of the Staff and the Sword, my close friend Brain Mathews handed over the Crook. He is an amazing leader caring and training up the men in our church to lead.

Joe Don Mayes,

Well I know if I was there with you guys this morning I would not be doing what we talk about many days there between 6 and 7:30, creating memories with our kids and wives, leading our families and showing them through our actions our love for them is a priority.

Joe Don, God has prepared you in so many ways to lead the Fellowship Church family right now and I know for you, looking back, you see it clearer than we do – but we know some of the stories, the life line – the trail you rode that brought you to this place, this morning, this group of men, your Band of Brothers and we know that you were lead by the Holy Spirit here to this place and time.

LT. Coronel Alan Stokes was known as a fighting soldier’s soldier during WW II. During one push behind the enemy lines he came up on a group of his soldiers outside an old farmhouse taking fire from the enemy inside – When he asked the commanding officer on site why he had not taken the farmhouse he was told “because they are shooting back at us”. He looked at his officer puzzled, he told him – “rally your men and fall in behind me – get ready to fight” he pulled his Army issue Colt .45, loaded it, then took a grenade in his other hand.

Then Stokes stood, yelled at the top of his lungs “ FORWARD” – and he charged through gunfire and smoke leading the squad to the house firing and throwing his grenade inside taking out the enemy gun that had held them at bay.

As they cleared the farmhouse and Stokes prepared to leave he turned to the commanding officer and said ”son, that is how you take the enemy” – and he left heading to the front lines. That day those soldiers saw the courage and leadership they needed to conquer the enemy that had them held down.

The Staff is our symbol that we will honor you, our elders and leadership – we will accept discipline and guidance from the God given authority that He placed in you and them through our church – we will learn, we will teach, we will lead by that example.

The Sword is a symbol of the warrior, the one who stands ready to die for the cause, to battle the enemy– to stand in the way of danger and oppression. It also hangs on the side of the guard at the gate and the mounted warrior horseback.

Shepards Crook - (Brian)

Many think we have spent the last three years in a battle for our church, our family. But they are wrong. Yes we had battles, but not every day has been at the front line – your men have held close – this group of warriors on Wednesday morning – we have grown in our walk with mighty leaps, through tears and laughter, brokenness and victories – together. You and Brian have trained us, been faithful in leadership – you have taught us by example – Today brother Joe Don Mayes, Pastor, Fellowship Church Southwest - We stand behind you – ready to follow your lead – ready to battle on all fronts for our church family – prepared to continue searching for the heart of Jesus with you and lead our families in God’s love and compassion – we are your Bonerges’ “ Son’s of Thunder – we are your Band of Brothers - - - “Let’s Roll” –

Mark 3: 13-17 - 13 Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to him those he wanted, and they came to him. 14 He appointed twelve[a] that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach 15 and to have authority to drive out demons. 16 These are the twelve he appointed: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter), 17 James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means “sons of thunder”), 18 Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot 19 and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.