Girls Hunt, Get Baptised and Just Basically Rock it Out!

The usual first agenda item on the way to the ranch is the stop at Dairy Queen. We sit and get to know each other a bit better, maybe reacquaint ourselves with each other. It doesn't take much and we are laughing and eating and enjoying huge ice cream cones in short order. I remember how much I love this. I love the opportunity to speak into the lives of young ladies from the perspective of a man who adores them and honors them, cares for them, will protect them.

This trip was the third annual Kids Outdoor Zone Pinks (girls only) Quail Hunt. Some of the girls have been here before; others are new to the program. The Austin Gun Club facility provides a great experience for our program. The lodging is a huge well appointed bunkhouse, a huge kitchen, a multi person bath, media room and some other comforts for sitting, talking, reading. The grounds have on-site tactical shooting, skeet, trap and pistol ranges. They also have an outstanding dog training facility with dogs for the quail, chucker and pheasant hunting on 1,000 acres that wraps around the property.

My daughter, Taylor, is a freshman in college, (Texas A&M) and she is a female chaperone who knows the girls and how to mentor them as a young woman. They love her, respect her and see her busting birds from the air and quick firing a pistol as good as any boy. Then she takes it to a still quiet level in the evening studying a Scripture passage that has been placed on her heart for the trip. Powerful.

Each one of the girls has a story, some good, some painful. Salem (Pickles) came to us after her father died in a car accident. He had just promised to take her hunting; she never got to go with him. This trip is an anniversary of sorts for her and me. We have grown to care for each other, and I have been blessed to speak into her life on lots of adventures since that first trip.

Destiny lost both of her parents and lives with her grandparents now. I know it is hard on all of them, but they persist.  This was her second adventure with me; her first was a deer hunt over the holidays when she got her first deer. Actually, it was one of her first trips away from home, first time to shoot a shotgun, drive a four wheeler and, well, the list goes on. She has been empowered with the idea that she can actually do hard things, amazing things, and it has changed her.

Ashley is one of our newest leader prospects. She came to us last summer and embraced the opportunities and outdoor adventure with gusto. I love the joy this young lady carries. God brings along these kids at very specific times, and Ash was one of them about whom He was very particular. He loves her deeply. She has begun an amazing walk with God since we met. I have seen her confronted with choices and a life she questioned not long ago. Her loving Father offered her hope, direction and a sword with which to fight. She grabbed it.

LeeLah was the youngest on this trip. It was her first time out with us, first time just about everything with us. But how God came. At one point she was shooting skeet, and the gun was hurting her shoulder. I watched as a tear rolled down her cheek when she yelled, "Pull." She was going to finish her round even if it hurt. Wow. On Saturday night the girls sat about doing their nails as we watched a movie. Leelah wasn't interested in any of the nail painting, not until I chimed in, "You do yours and you can do mine." Bad idea for me -- mine were 10 different shades of wrong.

Most of the things we did on this adventure were pretty basic as far as outdoor skills. They all drove the four wheeler, shot guns, rode horses. But it was the things that God did that absolutely astound me when we get out of His way. Truth be told, I didn't want to go. I felt I was busy, and it might be best with a small turnout to just cancel or reschedule. I went to my trusted team of men and asked their council; they were unanimous, go. So I prayed just that -- Lord, You must have a plan, so I will take the girls and go. And of course, He did.

Friday night I asked the girls, as I usually do with the kids on the first night, “Where are you in your walk with  God? Have you been baptized? Have you asked Christ into your heart? Do you know what those things mean?” Saturday morning we talked more about what how He speaks to us and our heart. We returned to that topic on Saturday night. Destiny told us she wanted to be baptized and her grandparents wanted her baptized and thought maybe we could do it. They knew we did "that kinda stuff." Yea, we do. So we planned to do it sometime on Sunday.

In a quiet moment on Sunday little Leelah came up to me and asked if she, too, could be baptized. I am moved to the edge of tears just recalling the moment. Her heart was tender, and I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit. Incredible. Of course, of course you can! I hugged her.

Now where do we do this? Lord, you know where … can you let me know? But there was nowhere on the ranch that would work. It wasn't there, then I thought of the river on the way home. Pretty, clean and easy to get to. When we got there the wind was strong and the water was freezing, but it was right. The girls were fearless and came right out into the water one at a time. In the pictures afterward I could see the joy of the moment on their face, even cold they were bold in their expression to the world of their commitment to a Heavenly Father.

He knew. His plan all along was for a small group of girls to go to quail camp and for these two to be baptized while we were together. Forgive me, Lord, for being weak in my convictions, for being short-sighted and shallow in my faith sometimes. Thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for loving the girls. Make them fearless. Make them bold. Let them know, no matter what, that You are a loving Father and You will never leave them, never forsake them, never, never. Amen.

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.