Where Were You?

Growing up, I heard this comment a great deal about the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.  It marked that generation, and many people talked about or compared memories of where they were when they heard that President Kennedy had been shot.  It changed that generation forever, and it changed our world forever back in the 1960’s.  Based on the fact that I was three years old at the time, I have no idea where I was when he was shot, and his assassination didn’t impact me as directly or deeply as my parents and everyone from their generation.

Our generation’s JFK Assassination is and was 9/11. It has defined us and made us who we are.  I’m not quite sure if it made us better, in many ways, I think it made us worse, but it definitely changed us.   How could it not?  Throughout history, we had never experienced such an unbelievable terrorist attack on US soil, and we weren’t prepared for it in any way whatsoever.  It was unfathomable for this to happen in the US, but it did.  It shattered our world, it shattered our sense of security, it shattered our sense of invulnerability. 

So where were you when those planes came crashing into the Twin Towers? 

At the time, I was working in Xenia, Ohio, and I was busy preparing the budget for my division, Barco Simulation, getting ready for a trip to Belgium the next week.  I was supposed to leave that weekend for Belgium to present the budget.  As the events started to unfold, various personnel at our division started talking, trying to figure out what was going on.  Soon someone got a TV, and they set up a TV in an open area, and everyone went there, mesmerized by the unfolding events, trying to grasp how this could possibly be happening.

Me?  I sat in my office, busily trying to get my budget done.  I knew something big was going on, but I had no idea what.  I knew, if I pulled myself away, if I got caught up in whatever was going on, I would be done, I would never get my budget done.  So, I ignored it all, and continued to grind away on my budget.  Periodically, I’d hear something.  I clearly remember, “Oh my God, here comes another one”, which I’m sure was the second plane crashing into the second building.  I pressed on.  I didn’t dare pull away from my task, I continued to work on that budget.

It wasn’t until late in the day that I finally pulled away and got a download of what all had happened.  I finally knew the gravity of the situation, and the devastation that had taken place.  I remember walking outside late in the afternoon, and hearing the roar of fighter jets taking off from Wright Patterson Air Force Base, and having no clue what that meant, if they were just moving into position somewhere, or if there was more coming.  Obviously, we also found out as the day unfolded that there were two other planes that wreaked destruction, not to the same level of notoriety, but still, very damaging.

I went home that night and watched the news to see all that I had missed.  The replays, the devastation was numbing.  To see those planes just targeted, heading straight into the sides of those buildings was still too hard to believe.  The pictures, the stories that unfolded were incredible from so many aspects.  As I said before, it was a defining moment in all of our lives, one of, if not the most important moment that any of us that have lived through it will experience.  As I sat there, watching all of the footage, the stories, I just cried. 

Some other interesting personal stories for me from this were that my boss, Jim Crane, was on his way back from Belgium that day.  They never alerted the passengers what had happened, but as they reached one of the furthest points in Canada after passing over the Atlantic Ocean, they landed.  The landed at an Air Force Base, I believe in Newfoundland, and they stayed there until the next day.  I remember hearing stories from Jim as he related the confusion and fear as they landed there, but how well they were treated until they could return to the US the next day.

As noted, I was supposed to go to Belgium that Saturday to present our budget.  Hernan Rodriguez, our Sales Director, was going with me, and he and I had been talking about whether we would go, whether we wanted to go, were we scared?  We both determined that we would go, we felt like it would be one of the safest times to travel.  Once Jim Crane reached the States, I got a call from him, and he very clearly told me, “You’re not going”.

As the years have gone by, 9/11 still remains a very painful day for me as I’m sure it is for many of us.  While in many cases, I’m not much for nostalgic stories or stuff, when it comes to 9/11, I’m all in.  The pictures and the stories of what happened, and the aftermath, both good and bad, capture me each year when the anniversary is upon us.  And I cry.  Every year, when we reach this anniversary and relive what happened, it breaks my heart.  Why do I cry?:

·         I cry for all of those innocent lives that were lost for absolutely no good reason

·         I cry for all of those heroes who had no regard for their own lives that ran into the devastation rather than out of it to try to save people they didn’t know at all

·         I cry for all of those families that lost loved ones, again, for no good reason

·         I cry for the brief patriotism that we experienced where we somehow regained that love of country that we once had.  I just wish we had sustained it.

·         I cry for the lost innocence, the lost security that we all feel now due to this brief moment of devastation.  We are not the same, and we will never be the same.

·         I cry for our callousness and mistrust of the rest of the world because of this.  It’s unfortunate that so many of us believe that all Muslims are evil because of the work of a few.

·         I cry for my lack of ability to recognize one of the most important moments in my life.  Rather than dropping everything, ignoring work, and fully experiencing and living the moment, no matter how devastating, I shut it all out and focused on my daily task.

So where were you?  

My Humans Are Getting Married!

Like a tornado, Franklin crashed through the hanging screen on the backdoor, never slowing down, and burst into the family room.  Before anyone could react, he started shouting at the top of his lungs, “Snickers!  Little Bit!  Guess what, my humans are getting married!”

Quickly Little Bit shushed him, and whispered, “Franklin, shhhh!  Snickers is asleep, and you know how grumpy he gets when you wake him!”

“Sorry,” Franklin mumbled, and then he strained to quietly say, “But my humans are getting married!”

“That’s so exciting,” Little Bit whispered, “Congratulations”.

Franklin couldn’t contain himself, he walked all around the family room, eyeing Snickers, hoping for one little movement to see that Snickers was awake.  Snickers wasn’t buying it though, even though he was wide awake, he didn’t stir a paw, knowing that Franklin would seize that opportunity and be all over him to play.

Disappointed, he went back to talking to Little Bit.  “They’re getting married!  And I get to go to the wedding!”

Snickers couldn’t contain himself with that news, he raised his head and said, “Wait a second.  YOU’RE going to the wedding?  Hmph, that will be the day.”

“It’s true Snickers, my Dad told me I was going to get to go,” Franklin protested.

“People say I’m a stupid dog, you’re such a puppy, Franklin.  That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Snickers dropped his head back down and closed his eyes.

“Mom said I couldn’t come, but Dad looked at me and winked, and he said, ‘don’t worry Franklin, I’ll sneak you in.’  If my Dad said I’m going, I’m going.”

Little Bit sighed, “I’m not sure Franklin, weddings are just for people, I’m not so sure they would be allowed to have you there.”  When she saw Franklin’s disappointment, she quickly added, “But you 

never know, maybe your Dad has a plan.  He always seems to have a plan.”

All of a sudden, Franklin jumped up on the back of the chair, and started whining and crying like a little baby.  The worst part was, he was practically standing on my head when he did it. 

I yelled, “Franklin!  What are you doing!  I’m right here, she’ll be right back!”

Little Bit yelled at Franklin, “What’s wrong with you?  Why are you so upset!”

Franklin said, “Your Mom left the room, aren’t you upset?”

Little Bit said, “But our Dad is still here, everything is OK.”

“I thought you guys said he wasn’t worth much?” Franklin asked.

Snickers mumbled, “He does have a point, Mom does everything.”

Little Bit changed the subject quickly, “No matter, now tell us more about the wedding.”

Franklin jumped down from the chair, and got excited again, “That’s only part of the news!  We’re also getting a new home!  I’m going to have my own room, and my Mom and Dad will come to my room and play with me every day.  We’ll play tug of war with my chew toys.  And my Dad will play that game, where he covers himself with a blanket, and yells for me, and I come and rescue him!  And I’m going to have a backyard!  My Dad will come out and throw the ball to me, and we’ll play catch for as long as I want until I finally get tired.  This is going to be so much fun!  I can’t wait to have my own home!”

Snickers started chuckling now and couldn’t contain himself, “Franklin, you are such a puppy!  When will you learn?”

Franklin tilted his head to the side, and asked, “What do you mean Snickers?”

Snickers raised his head and barked, “Your own room?  That’s right.  And they’ll put one of those gates up, and leave you in there all by yourself!  You’ll be stuck there all day.”

“Wait, what?  My parents wouldn’t do that!” Franklin protested.

“Snickers, be nice!” Little Bit squealed.

“And a yard of your own?  That’s right, you’ll have a yard, and you’ll probably have one of those poles and chains that they’ll tie you to.  You’ll be stuck out there in the hot sun.  Maybe they’ll be nice and give you a bowl of water, I used to always kick mine over.  It’s a tough life being tied up in the yard.  You’ll have to learn the hard way I guess.”  Snickers rolled back over, dreaming of those tough times from his puppyhood. 

“Wait, what?  A chain?  Why would they put me on a chain, they love me?” Franklin said excitedly.  He was starting to believe that maybe his life as a house dog wasn’t going to be so nice.

Little Bit quickly jumped into action, “Franklin, take a look at him.  Take a long look at Snickers.  Does it look like he’s had a hard life?  Look at that fat belly of his.  Does that come from a hard life tied up in the yard?  You know our parents, do you think they’d treat him that way?”

“You don’t know the tough life I’ve had,” Snickers mumbled, “It’s tough being the oldest dog, I didn’t get spoiled like you, Little Bit.  I had a dog trainer.  He was mean to me”  Snickers dropped his head back down and tried to go back to sleep.

Franklin sat there, dejected, trying to figure out what the truth really was.  As he slumped down and buried his head in the carpet, Little Bit said to him, “Franklin, I really don’t believe there could be a dog that is loved more by his humans than you.  You can see it anytime they are here with you.  They light up anytime they see you and talk to you.  They spoil you even worse than Mom spoils Snickers.  You will have a perfect home, and your Mom and Dad will do everything to make it a loving and wonderful home for you.  You are the center of their universe, anyone can see it, and you should know it.”

Franklin popped his head back up and got that puppy-like energy again, “You really think so Little Bit?  You really think they love me more than any other dog?”

“Absolutely Franklin, no dog could ever be loved as much as you,” Little Bit said.

As Franklin got his swagger back and started dancing around like the puppy that he was, Snickers raised his head ever so slightly, and asked, “Where did you say your Mom and Dad were going today?”

Franklin stopped and tilted his head to the side a few times, and said, “I think they said something about South Carolina?”

Snickers dropped his head and mumbled, “Yep, probably getting a new puppy.”

“Wait, what?”

“Snickers!” Little Bit screamed.

What Breaks My Heart?

Prologue: Recently Allen Hoskyn, one of my favorite pastors, posed this question, and then followed up with his response on the topic.  Lisa Johnson, a pastor at our church, followed on with a wonderful post that really hit home for me.  Mine isn't anything original, it's probably not one that is that different from anyone else.  But it's been nagging me more and more recently.  It wasn't until Allen put a "name" to it, and Lisa gave me some clarity, that I was able to crystallize it.

In a sense, I've been brooding about this topic for the last few months, since before Christmas.  It led me to a New Year's resolution, that I haven't shared, until now, due to my usual - fear, inertia, lack of knowing what to do.  In the following post on "What Breaks My Heart", I'm going to use "we" a lot, and I mean that completely.  When I say we, I'm including me, and in many cases, I'm as bad or worse than most, so I embrace the we very much in what I say.

The last several months, I've been cursed (blessed?) by multiple trips to Houston.  The curse, or blessing, may be that the area I'm traveling to has a great number of homeless people begging at the traffic lights.  Not sure if it is the area, the fact that there is so much traffic, the large overpasses and underpasses, but there are many homeless people walking up and down the pavement, walking up to your car, looking longingly, hoping for some sort of handout.  Many of them have signs, various sad stories, some even use humor, like the one sign that said, "My wife had a better divorce attorney".  One guy always has a little dog with him, looks like a chihuahua.  I've even thought about offering to buy the dog from him and fly it home with me to give it a better home, but then again, that's probably the only possession that man has.

The images of these people haunts me, and each time I go back to Houston, which is every couple of weeks, the haunting's start up again.  As noted above, I have thought of things to do, I've packed up some cans of food in plastic bags with a bottle of water, but that's as far as it's gone.  I've thought about this, over-thought it and haven't been able to get myself past the thought stages.  What good will it do?  If I offer some food, some water to one of the people begging, will it help him or her?  What about the dozens that are on the next several street corners?  How do I help them, what can I do to help them?  And yet again, still, I do nothing.  Which is why my heart is broken.

Much closer to home, the issue hit us even harder, because it was someone we knew very well.  Right before Christmas, our one son Patrick got together with a friend for coffee.  When he came home, he said, "Their family doesn't have any money, so they're not having Christmas, can we invite them to our house for Christmas dinner?".  We immediately started thinking of the reasons why this wouldn't work, it was short notice, we wouldn't want to offend them, do we have enough food, etc.  It struck me the innocence of Patrick's request, the lack of any trepidation to do this, and our immediate thought process was all the reasons why it wouldn't work.  We ended up buying them a gift card from Publix, but we missed such a golden opportunity to be the hands and feet of God. Which is why my heart is broken.

We sit in our pews at church, we sing songs, we pray, we read the Bible, we do Bible studies.  But are we doing God's work?  Are we embracing God's people.  Not just those who look like us, who act like us, who are in the same socio-economic stratus with us.  Are we willing to not just give money to the poor, are we willing to actually reach out and talk to them, embrace them as human beings, give of ourselves, follow Jesus' teachings when he said, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.  

As noted above, I've been frozen into inertia, not knowing what to do, not wanting to offend people, not knowing how to make a dent into the huge mountain of homelessness and poverty that we face at the moment.  Seeing those people, suffering on the streets, looking for a hand, looking for some slight acknowledgement of humanity and compassion haunts me and brings me to tears each time I go there.  Knowing that there are people in my community in the same place, suffering the same fate, rips me apart.  It finally hit me recently and Lisa Johnson reinforced it for me today.  We can't solve it all.  But we can at least touch one person.  If each of us just starts with one person or one family, can you imagine the impact we could make?

Many years ago, I read a quote, I think it was credited to Bono from U2, "People say, the world is the way that it is, and you can't do a damn thing about it.  I'm doing a damn thing."  For my New Year's resolution, I decided, I'm going to do a damn thing.  I'm tired of calling myself a follower of Jesus Christ, and not doing anything to further his kingdom in this world.  I decided that while I can't fix the mammoth problem we face, I can at least touch a few people along the way.

Will my heart continue to be broken?  You betcha!  I'm sure it will be broken even more if I actually get out of the pew and see and experience those around me that are worried about where they're going to sleep tonight rather than if they'll have enough in their 401(k) plan to retire.  But I have to do something.  I have to do a damn thing.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Happy Birthday Dad

As we all grow older, we inevitably hit that stage where we start losing our parents. I've seen a few of my friends from high school and college lose a parent this year, and it brings back the painful reminder of my Dad dying about a year and a half ago. The funny thing is that each time I have seen my friends go through this, it reminds me that the pain doesn't really go away. It changes, it evolves, but it doesn't ever go away completely, your parents are your parents, that loss leaves a void that just can't be filled.

We have a digital picture frame in our living room that gives me a bittersweet reminder each day. As I go past it, I see a myriad of pictures of my Dad, when he was little, as a young man, as a parent, and finally as a grandfather. I love seeing those pictures, it makes me smile each day, but it also gives me that twinge of pain, the fact that I'll never get to talk to him again, and the fact that I wasn't always the nicest to him at many times throughout my life. Once a loved one is gone, we have so many opportunities to remember and rehash those moments when we weren't at our best unfortunately.

Recently, one of my friends from college, Paul Paterra, lost his father, and he wrote a stunning tribute to his father. Paul is the writer I wish I was, he has made a very good career of it. It reminded me of the eulogy that I wrote for my Dad when he died, and it inspired me to publish that eulogy. As I noted to Paul, I hope that I can come close to doing his inspiration justice. As another note, my brother Jim also spoke at the eulogy, and he had so many other great tributes to my Dad, I kept thinking, "Man, I wish I would have said that". Jim reminded me what a great cheerleader our Dad was. He could take anything that we did, anything that happened, and turn it into a positive. He believed in us, he believed in his grandchildren, he was so proud of us, and he showed us and told us (and everyone else for that matter) all the time. I wish I would have said that, but I didn't, and this is what I did say:

While it is a time to mourn, it is also a time to celebrate. We are here to celebrate the life of William Lee McCullough, a great son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, co-worker, boss and friend. He has left a great legacy, and let us take time to celebrate that legacy. Let me do my best to express what he has meant to me, and what he has meant to all of us.

Now, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, oh Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. And in the immortal words of Davis Chappell, God has this. Amen.

I plan to take a great deal of this from one of my blog posts, although I’m not going to follow it exactly, which may throw some of you off that follow my blog religiously. As I look around the room, I don’t think that will be an issue.

Before I start, I have to share at least one story from my childhood in honor of Uncle Stan who will be getting a video of this ceremony. When I was little, I loved to listen to stories that my Dad and Uncle would tell from their childhood. They were, let’s just say, not the best boys in the world. They got in their share of scrapes. My uncle told the story of my Dad getting into a fight the one night with another young man, and my Dad knocked the guy down with one punch. My uncle said, “jump on him Bill, jump on him!” But my Dad, being the noble fighter, asked the young man if he had enough and let him get up. Unfortunately, what my uncle knew was the other guy was a boxer. My Dad said that he never saw all of the flurry of punches that hit him. Afterward, my Uncle said, “I told you that you should have jumped on him.” One of many stories I loved to hear from Uncle Stan and my Dad growing up.

For Father's Day a few years ago I bought my Father "Wisdom of Our Fathers" by the late Tim Russert. It has a picture in it of a good friend of mine, Dave Carr, with his father, so I told Dave about buying it. Dave asked if I had written my own "chapter" for my Dad, which I hadn't.

Now, when I wrote my Dad’s chapter, I wanted to focus on the truly important things he taught me. Just like most of us, I went through the normal learning process we all go through. When I was in high school and college, I was incredibly brilliant. Unfortunately, my Dad just wasn’t very smart at the time. I think my sons can relate to this. The funny thing was, when I got out of college and had to get an apartment, buy a car, raise a family, buy a house, fix up a house, I found out how incredibly smart my Dad was, and how really, really “less than brilliant” I was. But that is the normal process most of us go through. My Dad taught me so much more than that. So here was my chapter for my Dad.

Wisdom of My Father

Like so many of us, I have a great deal that I owe my Father in who I am and who I turned out to be. Some of the major things he taught me:

Honor Your Mother - I remember one Mother's Day when I was in high school, and I was having trouble with a girlfriend. We were supposed to take my Mother out for Mother's Day dinner, but I didn't want to go, I wanted to go over to my girlfriend's house to work out the problem. I knew my Dad would understand if I passed on taking Mom out to dinner. So I went into the bathroom where he was shaving, getting ready for the night, and asked him, "Dad, is it OK if I don't go tonight?" He turned and looked at me with a very clear and steady look, and simply said, "No." I knew that there would be no more discussion, no negotiation. Message heard loud and clear.

Love Your Children - My Father never claimed credit for this, but he had a saying or way of looking at things when you were down about money or your situation in life. He'd ask me, "Would you trade any of your children for a million dollars?". Well, of course not. He'd say, "You have four children, so I guess you have at least $4 million." Maybe very simplistic, but an easy way to keep focused on what's most important.

Pay It Forward – Jim and his family can understand the sacrifice this was, but many of you won’t quite understand the magnitude. Before I could drive, my Dad would drive me over to the high school for the basketball games and then pick me up hours later after the dance. Most of the time, this was during the winter, when the roads weren’t easy to travel. He never complained, well, at least to me, Mom might have heard about it. Years later, Sean needed a ride, similar situation, he took more time than he thought was reasonable, there was a girl involved of course, and he apologized all over himself. I told Sean that story and said, “it’s what my Dad did for me, and it’s what I’ll do for you.”

Value Everyone No Matter What They Do - Probably one of the greatest work lessons I've ever learned, and it's served me well, is to value everyone in the workforce. I remember him telling me, "Even if someone pushes a broom, if they work hard, you value them for what they do." One of the quickest ways someone would incur my wrath at work was if they would tell me they were "just a peon". I tend to be very easy going at work, but no matter what else was going on or what needed to be done, if someone ever said that to me, they would get a meeting and discussion on how valuable they were or are to the organization. Everyone, no matter what their position, contributes to the success of a company. Thanks to my Dad for first teaching me this lesson.

Hard Work Is Important - My Dad quit high school in the 9th grade and became a truck driver. He eventually worked his way up to being a manager of a truck terminal. At one point, he went 17 years or so without a single day off, no sick day, no vacation, no nothing. I learned this lesson a little too well, and this probably wasn't the best lesson he ever taught me. Thankfully, I was never quite that bad, and I have improved over time. I have learned that there are times to work hard, and there are times to play. I still struggle with the play, but old habits or teachings die hard.

It's OK to Cry - I will never forget when my Grandfather died. He was the first person that died that was close to me. I remember getting ready in the morning the day after he died, and I heard this strange sound coming from my parent's bedroom. I went in, and it was my Dad crying. I had never heard him cry in my life. It was a strange, surreal experience, but I knew it was OK, and I knew how much my Dad loved his Father.

Did I learn more than just this? You bet. My Dad taught me so much about how to do the important things in life, but more importantly, he taught me about the important things in life. That has made all the difference.

Happy Birthday Dad. Every time I go out of town and have a really good meal, I think to myself, I can't wait to tell Dad about this tuna, or flounder or whatever. Then I remember, I can't. You loved hearing about my trips, my adventures, the great meals. Most of all, you loved hearing about me, my family, my dogs, all of the things that made you proud, even if for whatever reason, I wasn't proud, you always were. You were always in my corner, no matter what, and you were always in all of our corners. Thank you for all that you did.

This Isn't Walmart, This is a Church!

My wife Laurel has a story she tells that I just love.  It is about growing up in Beechview, a suburb of Pittsburgh, and working at Wendy’s when it first opened.  Yes, we are old.  In any event, when she started working there, the manager told them enthusiastically about Wendy’s, what Wendy’s was about, what their mission or strategy was.  They weren’t going to be just like the other fast food restaurants, they were going to focus on a few simple areas.  They would sell hamburgers, chili, French Fries and Frosty’s.  That was it, they would concentrate on their niche, and do it really well, and leave the variety to the other fast food restaurants.  If you wanted one of those four items, great, if not, that was OK, you could go somewhere else.

Of course, if you go into Wendy’s today, you can see that this philosophy has changed dramatically.  Gone are the days of only selling these four specialty products, now you can get virtually any food group at a Wendy’s, it has morphed into any other fast food restaurant. 

As the war wages on for customers and cash, virtually all companies are selling and providing whatever product and service they can provide to win business.  Starbucks is test marketing selling alcohol, movie theaters are serving meals and alcohol (I think I see a pattern here), and Walmart sells anything and everything to gain more revenue and market share. 

Laurel and I tried to think of companies who stick to what they are good at and don’t veer from that course.  We thought of Waffle House, which we thought was completely crazy, but think about it.  They have greasy eggs, greasy ham/sausage/bacon, greasy hash browns, and even greasy waffles, but that is the basics of their breakfast offering (you can tell I really like Waffle House).  Five Guys for the most part offers cheeseburgers and fries, and a few other minor options.  I’m sure there are some others but so many companies will do anything for a buck, they find their niche, they find what they are good at, but then they determine they need to offer more and more, sell more and more, to increase market share, increase earnings, increase their presence to improve their return on investment.  Nothing wrong with that, we all have to make money, but is this the best way?

I remember the old story of four people discussing where they wanted to go to dinner.  One wanted steak, one wanted seafood, one wanted Italian food, and one wanted Mexican food.  Since they couldn’t decide, they went to a buffet, so they all could get what they wanted.  Instead of going somewhere where you could get a good meal, where it was someone’s specialty, everyone got what they wanted, but it was crappy (my apologies to all of the buffets out there).

Now, let’s take this a step further to modern day religion and churches.  We have invoked the Walmart mentality on our worship.  We give everyone a litany of options, a virtual cafeteria or buffet of decisions for people on what or how they want to worship.  I can just imagine in the near future a little checklist we can fill out on what we believe or how we want to believe.  Would you like the Bible as a part of your worship experience?  Virgin birth?  Jesus as the Son of God?  God as man, woman, neither?  Do you like Paul’s writings?  If not, we can just leave them out.  Old Testament?  Too harsh?  We can leave that out too.

Of course we have given everyone a plethora of ways to worship.  As an example, the church I attend has a traditional service mainly geared to the “old people” (I’m real close to this, not quite ready for this service yet!), a traditional service for the middle aged, a contemporary service for the middle aged, a contemporary service for the young adults and a contemporary service for the youth.  We have splintered the church off into various segments, trying to gear the service and the sermon to the appropriate audience, trying to reach everyone in the way we believe they want to be reached.  We also have the children off somewhere else worshipping and getting lessons geared to their age bracket.  The problem I have with this is, are we a church or many pockets of mini-churches within the church?  I never see children anymore, I never see young people, I rarely see young adults, I see a few older people, I only see those people who fit into my proper age category, 35-60 years old.  I talk to friends from church, and I hear about their children, but it’s been years since I’ve seen any of them.  If they walked up to me on the street, I don’t think I’d know who they were. 

Bear with me for a moment as I reminisce, but I think back to a few stories from my earlier years in the church:

•  I remember sitting in the back of the church, I was ushering that Sunday, and I looked at the church bulletin, and when I saw the date, I just thought out loud, “Wow, time is flying by”.  Sitting next to me was this old, white-haired gentleman, Larry Hadlock, one of the nicest guys you would find, and he said, “Tell me about it”.  He was probably 80 at the time, and I’m sure time had flown by for him.
•  I remember a service near Christmas, it was when Megan was little, she was probably three or four years old, and I remember holding the hymnal for her, and inching my finger along the page, helping her see the music, see the notes.  She was too young to understand, but that’s how children learn, by watching us in worship.  As a side note, I remember picking her up at the end of the service, and she wrapped her legs around me, and unfortunately, I had one of those musical Christmas ties on.  Just as the church went silent for the closing prayer, you could hear “Jingle Bells” coming from my chest.  Those things don’t shut off either.
•  I remember the Youth Services from past years when the seniors from high school would give the sermon before going off to college.  I remember watching kids like Alan Dyer or Breanna Shell giving the sermon and wondering when did they grow up?  How did they go from that child I watched in the nursery or taught Sunday School or watched worship in the sanctuary with their parents into a mature young adult so quickly?

As noted, we are trying to gear our services to the proper demographics so much anymore, we lose the family in Church Family.  Gone are the days of reminiscing with the older generation, gone are the days of watching young families grow together in the church, gone are the days of watching children grow up in the church.  Just like the secular world, we have to give everyone what they want, the way they want it, even in a church setting. 

I do understand that churches, just like the secular world, are competing for dollars.  They need money to keep the doors open, I get that.  But should we be competing for people’s souls?  Wouldn’t it be better if we all said, this is what we believe, and this is how we are going to worship?  I know a lot of people criticize the Catholic church for being too stodgy, but they have held true to what they believe and how their worship services are structured.  You know what you will get when you go into virtually any Catholic church.  And by the way, they are one of the few denominations that is growing. 

I think back to the old movie, “Miracle on 34^th Street”, and the scene where the department store Santa Claus (who of course is the real Santa Claus) tells shoppers where they can get toys cheaper down the street.  While the store manager was furious, what he found was it built customer loyalty.  What if we referred people to other churches that met their needs, instead of trying to morph into something we’re not and stray from our niche, or what we’re good at?  Better yet, what if we helped them find that church that met their needs, what if we connected them with the pastor of that church?  Isn’t that our mission as Christians, to bring people to God, not to bring them to our church?  You want liberal theology?  There’s a great church down the street that is much more liberal than ours, let me contact the pastor there for you.  You want a really energetic contemporary service?  You have to try Grace, it’s phenomenal.  I’ll contact the pastor for you.

OK, I know I’m crazy, this type of scenario only lives in my fantasy world.  But think about it again, we’re talking about people’s souls.  Should this be a competition?  Shouldn’t our goal be their salvation, no matter what?  This isn't Walmart.

In The Name of Love, Yes

The PCUSA had a major vote at its General Assembly this year to recognize and embrace same sex marriage.  The vote was fairly lopsided (61%-39%) to allow clergy to perform same sex marriages, and also approved an amendment to the denomination’s constitution to define marriage as between two people rather than a man and a woman.

While this was the most controversial of decisions made at the General Assembly, and the one that has many people and churches fleeing the denomination, this is the decision that I strongly agree with the PCUSA on, and, I applaud them for their strength and vision in making this decision.  When decisions are made out of love as the overriding reason, you really can’t go wrong, and the PCUSA didn’t go wrong here.

Over time, many churches and denominations have danced around this issue.  Some have condemned homosexuality and homosexuals, some have embraced them, and many have taken the US military approach of “don’t ask, don’t tell”.  The PCUSA has been the denomination who has stepped to the forefront and chosen love and embracing all children as God’s children.

I’ve often wondered how people can be so unforgiving on this topic.  I’ve seen so many Christians, who can forgive people for just about any sin, except for the “sin” of homosexuality.  While some view homosexuality as a sin, and some do not, what amazes me is that some who believe it is a sin seem to find it as the only unforgivable sin.  I sometimes wonder if murderers, adulterers, rapists are in their Heaven, but Heaven forbid, no homosexuals would ever be in their Heaven. 

On the other hand, I also struggle with the “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach.  It’s OK if you come and worship with us, just don’t flaunt it, don’t let us know that you are gay, let us just assume you are single.  We don’t need to know, we don’t want to know your sexual orientation.  Church is supposed to be about community, about relationships, how can you have community and relationships with others if you aren’t willing to really know them, know about their life, what is important in their life, who is important in their life?

I have to admit, I haven’t felt this way all my life.  When I was younger, I took a much harder stance on this issue, not nearly to the level of feeling it was the only “unpardonable sin”, but I was certainly opposed to the homosexual lifestyle.  Over time, I started realizing that we are dealing with people, it’s easy to take a stance, to hold a view, when it’s a theoretical concept rather than flesh and blood.  When you start putting faces and names to it, it’s much harder to look at someone and say, “I don’t like you because you’re gay”, or “I don’t want you at my church because you’re gay”.  Maybe that’s why so many like the “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach, they just don’t want to know, it’s easier to deal with it that way.

I’ve had a few life changing moments along the way that have really changed my views.  I’ve had various friends and colleagues from work who have acknowledged they are gay, which did have an impact on me, but I’ve had two major points in my life that really changed me radically. 

One may sound silly, but it was at a Small Group retreat from church.  One of my friends, Dave Carr, showed us a documentary on children who have announced to their parents that they are gay.  Just like with anything in life, some of the stories were beautiful, some were not so beautiful.  In some cases, the child told their parents they were gay, and while the child had so much fear and trepidation about doing this, the parents simply said, “I love you no matter what”.  Those stories were so amazing, so inspiring, I wish I could be such a great parent in a situation like that.  Then, unfortunately, there were the stories where the child would announce to their parents that they were gay, and they would find all of their worldly possessions on the front doorstep.  Their parents had disowned them, disavowed them, treated them as if they didn’t exist.  It was incredibly painful to watch those stories in the documentary, I can’t imagine how any parent could rip a child out of their lives, rip out the heart of one that they loved, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.

The second, and the first helped me so much with this, I give Dave Carr so much credit for helping me grow as a person, came when my son Patrick was going through an upheaval in his life.  Patrick thought he was gay, and eventually he came to realize through counseling, that he had been sexually abused, which led him to that conclusion.  He has subsequently determined that he’s not gay, but he has waged a difficult war against the trauma of sexual abuse, which is a different story.  In any event, when Patrick approached us, again with great fear and trepidation, and told us he thought he was gay, while it was a difficult situation and potential reality for us, we told him simply, “Just as God has never started loving you, we have never started loving you, our love for you has no beginning or end, and this will not change that.”  I think or I hope that this helped Patrick understand that a parent’s love is eternal, just like God’s love is, but I do know that he, along with many others who have struggled with this situation, wonder how they would be received or accepted at their church.

Recently I attended a service at a Presbyterian Church in the area, and the title of the sermon was, “Is This the Hill We Want to Defend?”.  Basically, it was shortly after the vote at the PCUSA General Assembly, and as noted, there is a great deal of turmoil caused by this vote.  The sermon was given by a Youth Pastor, but I was amazed at her wisdom and discernment of the issue.  Basically, her point was, “is this the topic we are going to let divide our church?”.  Seriously, are we going to put a stake in the ground over this?  While it’s obvious I have a great deal of issue with the PCUSA and their politics, I believe they have come down on the side of love and what Jesus would want in this case.  We are all God’s people, and we are called to love each other, not just the ones we like or agree with, but love everyone.   

I would challenge everyone, if you haven’t been through what I’ve been through, just imagine it.  Your son or daughter comes home, and tells you he/she is gay.  What do you do?  Do you love them?  Do you hide them?  Do you want them to feel welcome in your congregation?  Would Jesus welcome them?  Would Jesus love them?  Even if you believe it’s a sin, what would Jesus say?  I think He would say, “He who is without sin among you, be the first to cast a stone”.  Amen.

What Is Wrong With Me?

OK, it’s a rhetorical question.  I don’t expect anyone to have the answer, or if they did, I probably wouldn’t like the answer.  I’ve struggled mightily in the last few months in virtually every respect. 

• My running has been awful, I struggle to make it five or six miles at the moment, my legs are completely dead, they have nothing in them.
• I have writer's block, I've found nothing interesting to write about since my last blog post about six months ago.
• My classes at GGC this past semester were probably the worst I have had in my four years there.  I can’t blame my students, I could blame the weather, we lost several class days due to the weather, but it was more than that.  I wasn’t at the top of my game.
• My faith is lukewarm.  I still believe in God, I still love Jesus Christ and am so thankful daily for what He did for all of us, but I’ve lost the passion, I don’t get up each day excited to listen to my praise music when I run, and worse, I really don’t get excited each Sunday to go to church.  I could blame my church for some of the changes that have taken place over the last year or so, but it’s not the church, it’s me.
• Worst of all, I’ve lost my compassion for my fellow man.  OK, maybe that’s an overstatement, I’m just not where I was or where I want to be.
• To summarize, I’m barren, I’m a wasteland, I’m broken right now.  

Now that I’ve thoroughly depressed everyone, including myself, let me just say, this isn’t the end of the world.  I can, and will, get through this.  And to be clear, no one should feel sorry for me, and that’s the last thing I want.  As I’ve noted, I have an incredible life, there are very few who have been blessed with the gifts I’ve been given, I have no reason to be in this wasteland, but it’s where I reside right now.  And I really don’t need any help, there is only one person (with God’s help) that can fix this, and it’s me. 

Last year when we were going through the worst year of our lives, I remember reading in one of the books we used for small groups about prisoners of war, who struggled after being freed because they had gained such an incredible closeness with God during the captivity.  They couldn’t recreate that after they achieved freedom, the closeness with God had dissipated.  While I would never demean what prisoners of war went through by comparing our situation to theirs, we went through a deep crisis last year, and through that, I/we grew very close to God. 

So why in the world did He move away this year when we started recovering?  Of course, I’m joking, as those Hallmark cards or pictures always show, God never moves away from us, we move away from Him.  Believe me, it’s not been intentional, I didn’t set out to separate myself from God, but there is no doubt, I have. 

So is all hope lost?  So am I fixable?  As people at work know, my favorite saying is “beats the shit out of me.”  I do have faith though, I haven’t lost my faith.  I’m fairly confident, my body will heal.  I think at some point, my writer’s block will disappear, and the words will flow again.  I’m taking a much-needed break from teaching this summer, I think this last semester kicked my ass, and I need some time to re-energize and remember why I love to teach so much.  The faith side, the passion, the compassion?  I have a great deal of confidence in God.  While this whole experience has been disconcerting, I’ve spent many days, saying to myself and to anyone in earshot, “what is wrong with me?”, I do have a great deal of confidence that God has a plan, no idea what the plan is, but He has a plan.  Last week when I asked this question to Allen Hoskyn, our Associate Pastor, he gave me an unbelievably inspiring answer.  Essentially to paraphrase, for us to reach a deeper intimacy with God, we need to reach a deeper level of emptiness.  As Allen noted, it’s painful and disorienting to go on an unknown journey, but it’s necessary.  I sure hope he’s right.

So as we meet on this journey that we are all on, I ask you to have a little patience with me at the moment.  Please don’t pity me, please don’t look down upon me for not starting each day with that fire in my heart and belly that anyone with the gifts I’ve been given should have.  I am not who I was, I am not who I want to be, and I’m not who I should be right now.  But, at some point, I will be back, and I do believe, I’ll be better than ever.  I can fix myself, with God’s help, and I can be the man that God wants me to be.

Epilogue:  As the one or two of you who read my blog posts know, I love prologues and epilogues.  I sent this to John Ey, one of my most trusted advisors, and he said, “it sounds like you’re depressed”.  To be honest, while it may sound that way, I’m really not, or at least I don’t believe I am.  I’m waiting for God, and I don’t mean I’m waiting for Him to fix me, I’m waiting to see what direction He will take me.  I love the line from Hillsong United’s Desert Song, “I know I’m filled to be emptied again, the seeds I’ve received I will sow”.  In my case, I’ve been emptied to be filled again, or maybe I’m not quite empty yet, but I know, I will be filled again.  It’s just a matter of when.

Out of the Desert

Prologue: I tend to write my blog posts in my head when I'm out for my morning runs.  As noted before, I always listen to inspirational Christian music when I run, and I happened to be listening to Mystery when I was writing this blog post in my head.  As I heard the refrain, "Christ has died, and Christ is risen, Christ will come again", I wondered if God was telling me something.  This revelation will become clearer in the end.

I awoke last Friday morning to a text from one of my former students, Wendy Ferguson, "Oh no, I just got the e-mail that Canon passed away.  This really has upset me.  He and I both struggled with our studies, but we hung in there.  I hate it that it was all for nothing.  He was thankful that you dedicated so much of your time to us.  He was my study buddy, and I will really miss him."

I was in disbelief, shock, Wendy and I exchanged a few more texts, and I ultimately went to the Gwinnett Daily Post website and found out Canon had drowned in Lake Lanier.  The website listed the normal information when someone dies, Canon was a Lawrenceville Police Officer, seven year veteran, and was only 32.  He died swimming in Lake Lanier, no information on how he drowned, I'm sure they don't know.  It's funny, your life can be distilled down to so little, but there's so much more.

I first met Canon in the Spring of 2013, he took my Financial Accounting class.  I'm not sure if you can tell from the picture, but Canon was very imposing, tall, shaved head, very stern look all the time.  He always sat in the back of class, and just gave me these harsh stares.  I figured he thought I was an idiot, the worst teacher in the world.  Periodically, he would talk to the person next to him, laugh a little, and I figured, yeah, he thinks I'm an idiot.

Then, when I started tutoring, I always like to offer tutoring throughout the semester, Canon would show up.  I was kind of surprised, but he'd show up every time I offered tutoring, he didn't always understand the concepts completely, but he worked his ass off to learn it.  Every single time, at the end of the tutoring, he'd thank me and tell me how much he appreciated me taking the extra time to help him.  And so it went throughout the semester.  It wasn't that he was sitting back there thinking I was a complete idiot (or at least I hope not), most of the time, and he'd even tell me in tutoring, he'd be saying, "I really don't have a clue what you're talking about."  It wouldn't be appropriate for me to say what grade he earned, but he earned a very good grade, and it had nothing to do with innate understanding of accounting, it came from pure sweat equity that Canon put in.

In the Fall of the same year, Canon signed up for my Managerial Accounting class.  Same regiment, he sat in the back, scowled at me, laughed with the person next to him periodically, but at least now I knew who Canon was and what he was like.  When I offered tutoring, again, he was always there.  I even got to the point, when I scheduled my tutoring that I'd ask Canon when he could make it, I wanted to make sure he was able to come.  He really worked hard, and he really appreciated the extra help.  He struggled a bit more in Managerial, he didn't quite achieve the grade he wanted, but as I told him, if I could give anyone a grade they deserved rather than the one they earned, it would be him, but I wouldn't bend my standards, even for him.

The viewing was last Sunday night.  I had no idea what to expect, I knew Canon was single, didn't have children, and knew he was a police officer.  As a side note, I never knew he was a police officer until about halfway through the Managerial class.  One of my students, Brittany, told me, she said that he didn't like people to know, he was worried they'd feel funny around him.  Laurel and I got there around 6, the start time, and the place was already packed.  There were police officers everywhere, it was really an incredible event.  I handled it OK at first, I kept praying to God, give me strength, his family needs a kind word, a gentle word at a time like this.  I held up pretty well for a while, I handled talking to his sister, we even talked about the accounting classes, it seems that Canon had shared what a struggle those were for him.  But then, I got to his Mom.  And I broke down completely.  Thankfully, I had my Rock with me, Laurel, and she handled it beautifully, telling Canon's Mom how I knew him, what a great student he was, etc.  I simply stood there blubbering, with Canon's Mom holding my arm, she was the strong one rather than me.  I finally did get out what a great young man he was, and what an incredibly hard worker he was, that was about it.

I got an e-mail from Wendy that she went to the funeral on Monday, I was out of town on business, and she described how amazing it was. 

"The procession from the church to the gravesite was approximately 15 miles and there must have been 100 cars and bikes with lights and sirens. We passed many people standing on the side of the road with their hand to their heart. Upon entering the cemetery we drove under a Fire Department ladder truck displaying an enormous American flag. At graveside the flag from his casket was folded, saluted and held to the heart of several of the Officers then presented to his mother. A call came over a Police radio for Badge #143, the call was not answered, the badge was then taken out-of-service and retired. A radio dispatcher announced the loss of the fallen Officer, stated how much his service was appreciated and how much he would be missed by all. He received a 21 Gun Salute and Taps were blown (and there was lightning in the background). It tore me up. I think we were luckier than we realized to have known him- Canon was a dedicated, strong, kind, talented, well-liked, loved, Christian man."

So I go back to what Wendy said in her text to me earlier, and I'm not picking on her, but to me, it's one of the key points in all of this. This was not all for nothing. There's a saying, and I know I'll butcher it, but the gist of it is that our lives aren't measured by the money we earn, the positions we have, the wealth we accumulate, our lives are measured by those we have touched along the way. If we simply carve out everything else that Canon did in his short 32 years on this earth, and we look at his life as a student at GGC, there's at least two people, Wendy and me, and I'm sure so many more, that he touched. As I always say, if I can just touch one life each class I teach, then I feel like it's all worthwhile. He touched at least two lives, and I'm sure many more.

While I hate that it took a death to snap me out of my half-year long funk, it did. I'm posting my blog entries out of order, I have one coming titled "What Is Wrong With Me?", which I wrote a few weeks ago, and you'll see the desert I've been roaming in the last six months. Canon's death finally snapped me out of it. His death reminded me who I am, what I am, why I am who I am. My love, my compassion for my fellow man had been mysteriously locked away for a while, and unfortunately it took a death to remind me of my intense compassion for those around me because of the Grace that God has shown me.

Finally, this all helped remind me of my faith, and what I believe, but also how I believe. Too long, I've been falling into the safe haven of "It's God's will, you have to just accept it and realize that God has a greater plan." While generally speaking, I agree with this, there is so much more to faith than just that. I remember years ago, Sandy McConnel delivering a eulogy for a baby that died, and saying, "It's OK to be angry with God right now". Yes, it is OK to be angry, and as I've often stated, the first thing I'm going to ask God when I get to Heaven is how can you possibly let a parent bury a child? I think that has to be the most devastating thing a person can go through, and that is why I struggle so much in these situations, and how I couldn't maintain any composure when I got to Canon's Mom. God, how can you make a parent suffer like that? While I still don't know the answer, and I'm still angry and will continue to question it, I do wonder if God was sending me the answer as I wrote this in my head and listened to the words of Mystery. No, I still have no answers, just questions. But, I will continue to have faith that God does have a plan, a much greater plan than we can imagine, and somehow Canon's life and death is weaved into that plan somehow.

Thank you Canon. Thank you for being such a great student, although I'm not supposed to have favorites, you were one of my favorites. I hate that it took your death to bring me back to life, but you did. I'm out of the desert thanks to you, and I'm ready to start paying it forward. I was empty, but I'm filled again.  The seeds I've received I will sow.

A Very Different Christmas Card

I remember as 2013 began, I was running early one morning, and I saw one of those church signs, and it said, “Does it get any better than this?” I thought to myself, how could it? We had just celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in December, our four children were doing great, I loved my job at WIKA , I was enjoying teaching so much at Georgia Gwinnett College, we loved our church, how could life get much better than this? That run seems so long ago, so distant in my memory. While life couldn’t get much better, it could get a whole lot worse.

It all started in the January/February timeframe, we found out that one of our dogs, Minnie, had cancer after pouring lots and lots of money into diagnoses. She had very little time to live, and we finally had to humanely put her down in early March. While Minnie was “just a dog”, she was a part of our family, and it was difficult to see her short and happy life end too soon.

In April, Laurel’s Mom finally succumbed after many years of battling various ailments. Laurel had tried to

make a last visit to say goodbye to her Mom late in 2012, but Hurricane Sandy prevented that trip. We had been trying to plan a trip for her to get up for a visit early in 2013, but life didn’t cooperate.

In June, my Dad ended his long battle with cancer. I’ve watched others battle cancer, Laurel lost both of her sisters several years ago to cancer, and if you haven’t seen it up close and personal, it is a bitter and ugly battle to watch. Cancer can be devastating, and just sucks the life out of the best people.

While these losses were very devastating, they pale in comparison to the “rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would say. In the midst of all of this, we faced some of the greatest nightmares any parent can ever encounter.

In January, we started getting some distressing calls from Patrick from Grove City College. Just a few weeks earlier, he had seemed very happy, but that had changed dramatically. As the weeks went by, he was plummeting. Each conversation was getting deeper and deeper into depression. I finally told him, if he wanted to come home, just come home. He then said the words that no parent ever wants to hear. He said, “you won’t be disappointed in me?” If there’s one thing in life I’ve learned as a parent, don’t ever tell your children or lead them to believe you are ever disappointed in them. I told him no, I could never be disappointed in him.

Unfortunately, he didn’t come home soon enough, and we got a call from the counselor on campus that Patrick was planning to commit suicide, and he wanted to admit him to a local psychiatric hospital. This was our first experience with a psychiatric hospital, and we learned a lot, particularly patience. Imagine yourself as a parent, and your child is five or six states away, and he/she is in a psychiatric hospital that you’ve never seen, and you can only talk to him or her once a day? It brings to mind the line from Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” that goes, “where does the love of God go when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” We patiently would wait for that time each evening, when we would get 10-15 minutes on the phone with Patrick, and try to decipher what the hell was going on. As soon as we were able, Laurel and Kelly got a flight up to Pennsylvania to see Patrick in the hospital, which gave us a whole lot of comfort. We were eventually able to secure Patrick’s release from the psychiatric hospital, and we were able to bring him home.

One of the most painful parts of all of this was withdrawing Patrick from Grove City. When we got Patrick released from the psychiatric hospital, we also packed all of his stuff up from his dorm. For the first two years, Patrick loved Grove City. Then as he descended deeper and deeper, many of the people at Grove City rejected him. While we thought Grove City was a loving, Christian community, we found out that the Christian love only flowed to those who walked like them, talked like them and looked like them. I will say that packing up his dorm room was one of the most painful separations I’ve witnessed in my life.

When we brought Patrick home, we had some significant adjustments to make. We hid all of the knives in the house, or anything else that we believed he could hurt himself with. Laurel spent many nights sleeping in the spare bed in Patrick’s room to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself. But the pain for all of us was just beginning. Shortly after Patrick came home, Patrick revealed the one night at dinner what had led him to want to commit suicide. While it is only fair to Patrick to leave this piece of the story to him to reveal someday, it is safe to say that it is one of a parent’s deepest fears and nightmares. The fact that it also impacted Sean made the impact that much deeper.

I have to admit that when I heard what had happened, I had no reaction. No anger, no tears, no nothing. I was stone cold in my emotions, I was completely numb. It wasn’t for about another week or so, as I was driving down the road, and all of a sudden, the damn burst. The tears, the anger, the hate burst forward, I flooded with emotions, and couldn’t control them. I hated myself, I felt like a miserable failure as a father, God had given me children to love and protect, and I had failed Him miserably. I desperately wanted to hurt or kill the person who had brought this devastation down on my sons, but I knew that wasn’t the solution.

My morning runs progressed through my emotions, as I worked through the pain and the anger. Initially, my prayers would be “please get the devil off my back, dear God, don’t let me do anything stupid.” I’d work my way to “please heal Patrick dear Lord, please heal him.” I’d eventually work up to “please heal Patrick dear Lord on your time, please heal him on your time.” I never worked up to the ultimate prayer, “Thy will be done, Lord, thy will be done.” That is always the most difficult prayer, and I just couldn’t bring myself to that prayer.

While I wish I could say that when Patrick came home, everything worked out happily ever after, and we all went back to normal, it wasn’t that simple. Patrick eventually went back into a local psychiatric hospital. It was a disaster, the hospital was awful, and to a certain extent, that may have been a turning point for all of us. Eventually, Patrick progressed, he climbed out of the depths, through various counselors and medication, he emerged from the depths of Hell. He was able to go back to school this fall, to Oglethorpe University. While Patrick’s healing isn’t complete, he has progressed far beyond our hopes and expectations. He is in love, but unfortunately the young lady just went back home to Spain, so he is heartbroken.  That is the type of crisis we can more readily deal with.

Through all of this, we’ve also had to deal with similar, but different, issues with Sean. While I would never demean what Sean has been through, it has not been quite as dramatic as Patrick’s journey. Still, it’s been difficult. I remember one point, just a few months ago, when Sean sent me a long and torrid e-mail that said at one point, “I don’t think you know what the Hell you’re doing as a father, you aren’t handling this situation very well.” And you know, he was right, and I told him he was right, I had no idea what the Hell I was doing. I never imagined facing this type of challenge, and in so many ways, I was failing miserably.  Sean and I had some rough patches, I was overwhelmed with all that was going on, and sometimes, I just couldn't give Sean what he needed.  Thankfully, he has been able to forgive me for my shortcomings.

As difficult and as bad as this year was, the amazing thing is that it’s brought me even closer to God. My morning runs gave me time to pray, to reflect, to cry, to beg God for answers to why this has happened to us. I still don’t know why, but I do believe God has a greater purpose for all of us. This all happened for a reason, and someday, we’ll understand why.

We also benefited from so many amazing people who helped us through it all. Our family, especially our daughters Megan and Kelly, have stepped up tremendously. Our church, our pastors, our small groups, there were so many people who carried the burden for us when the burden was too great. One of our pastors, Allen Hoskyn, has been a God-send, he has been there always, he’s been there when no one else would ever be there. The men in my small groups, both here and in Dayton, the couples in Laurel and my small group, have supported us tremendously, praying with us, crying with us, supporting us through the deepest levels. Our friends have been there through it all, and my employer, WIKA, has been incredible, giving me the time and space I’ve needed to work through this. The blessings we’ve received through all of this have given us the strength to persevere, to make it through each day. And there were days when I had no idea how we would get through another day, but somehow we did. And we will continue to make it through another day.

Unfortunately, this whole experience has taken Patrick, and maybe Sean, further away from God, or at least mainstream Christianity. The person who wronged us is a self-proclaimed good Christian, broadcasts it regularly on Facebook. Grove City College is a Christian college, proclaiming “Grove City College is a Christian College where you’re free to exercise your faith in an atmosphere of fellowship and friendship. The result is a campus life animated by faith.” I wish I had taught my sons what Matthew had said “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.” The more people or institutions have to tell you what good Christians they are, the more you should be suspicious.

So the year is coming to a close, and it couldn’t come too soon. Will 2014 be any better? While I’d never wish this year on anyone else, or wish to go through another one like it again, I am thankful for all of the blessings we did receive through it all. So many people have given us the gift of compassion and love through the pain. And while it is often difficult to see God’s presence in the midst of suffering, God is never absent, He has always been there, supporting us, especially when the pain became seemingly unbearable. So as the year closes, Merry Christmas, I hope this holiday season brings you great joy. And thank you, thank you all for what you have done to carry us through this year. We couldn’t have done it without all of you.

Caught in the Middle - I Think I'm Switzerland!

I guess I’m not surprised, through eternity religion has been at the forefront of conflict. Wars, conquests, terrorism have all been waged in the name of religion. Divisions have been created, lines have been drawn to separate the chosen from the un-chosen. If there is one thing we can all agree on it’s that my religion supersedes your religion. Or vice-versa.

While we have the never-ending conflict among the various world religions, it’s just as bad within the confines of the “Christian” religions. Presbyterians can’t agree with Baptists can’t agree with Lutherans can’t agree with Methodists. And Lord knows, none of us could ever agree with the Catholics!

I recently read that there are over 33,000 denominations of Christianity in the world and most of them came through a split. There are more than 100 varieties of Baptist Churches, and there is even the Church of God, True Church of God and the Only True Church of God. The story goes, if you don’t get along with your current church, move to a new one, or better yet, form your own, so you don’t have to worry about getting along with those whose beliefs differ from your own.

So if at such a high level, we all can’t agree, why should my little microcosm of life be any different? I’ve gone from northern, liberal Presbyterian church life to southern, conservative Methodist church life over the past several years. While I love and embrace my brothers and sisters from both spectrums of the country and denominations, I have to say in so many ways, I feel like Switzerland, I feel like I’m in the middle and don’t always feel comfortable in either pew.

On one hand, those who are of more the conservative ilk will condemn me to Hell if I don’t believe and think the way that they do. On the other hand, those of the liberal persuasion will roll their eyes at me and find my simplistic view of religion to be less than cerebral. I guess I’d prefer to have people roll their eyes at me than to burn in Hell forever, but neither is desirable. OK, no doubt, I’m exaggerating a bit here, maybe even more than a bit, but at times, this is the way it feels. So rather than say what I don’t believe or what I don’t agree with on either side of the pew, I decided to write, or re-write, what I believe.

In no particular order:

• I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe He is our risen savior

• I believe in Heaven and Hell, and I believe that the only way to Heaven is through the Grace of Jesus Christ. While I know that universalists believe that everyone goes to Heaven, I really don’t see any way to Heaven other than through accepting Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

• Having said that, I don’t believe Muslim’s, Hindu’s or anyone else are the enemy, I believe we all need to learn how to exist together and respect each other’s beliefs. If there is an “enemy”, I believe the enemy lies within, it is lukewarm Christianity.

• I believe in the Bible, I believe it is the living word of God, written by man, God-breathed. I am by no means an expert on the Bible, but it amazes me each time I read certain parts of the Bible how it speaks to me completely differently than it did before.

• I believe Jesus did perform miracles, I don’t believe they were just parables told by the disciples. I would just find it hard to believe that these guys would subject themselves to persecution and ultimately painful deaths for a guy that they just made up stories of miracles about.

• I believe Creationism is as plausible or more plausible than any other theories of creation. I know there is a lot of support for evolution, and maybe it is the way everything evolved, but I still believe, somehow, God was at the core or source of it all.

• I support and respect the rights of the gay and lesbian community. I don’t believe they are all going to Hell. Quite frankly, I have no idea who is going to Hell and who isn’t, but if I break 6-10 of the 10 Commandments daily, and I don’t believe I’m going to Hell, how can I believe someone who is homosexual is going to Hell?

• I believe that God sends us messages every day, probably continually, but we could have burning bushes ablaze all around us, and we would be too busy, calling, texting, tweeting, messaging to hear or see them.

• I believe in the separation of church and state. I know some believe we should have the 10 commandments on our courthouse, and prayer in the schools, but I think the more critical question would be do we know the 10 commandments, do we follow the 10 commandments, do we pray, do we pray with our children and teach them how to pray?

• I also believe the separation of church and state goes both ways. I don’t want politics to invade the church, the pulpit, Sunday schools or small groups. If we’re serious about this separation, it goes both ways.

Of course, I could be wrong, I could be incredibly wrong, and I’m sure in many ways, I am. I will never know, we will never know until we graduate from this world and move on to the kingdom of God. I accept that I may be wrong, and I accept that you may be right. I’m OK with that. The beauty of it all is that it all comes down to faith, and there is no clear truth to any of this, and as our faith evolves, some of our beliefs evolve with it. So as we meet on our journey of faith through our lives, I commit to you that I won’t doom you to Hell, and I commit that I won’t roll my eyes at you. Even if you are a member of the Only True Church of God.

Why I Teach

Four years ago, I received the opportunity to begin teaching at Georgia Gwinnett College. I had been looking for opportunities to teach for a few years, and I thought it would never happen, but out of the blue, I got an e-mail from the Associate Dean at GGC asking me if I wanted to teach. I jumped at the chance, it was a dream come true.

I’ll admit, at first, it was a much bigger struggle than I had anticipated. I’ve always had a great admiration for teachers, but now that admiration is even higher, what they do day in and day out is amazing. I had taught courses before, but always to professionals, who had some idea of the topic. Now I was teaching accounting, basically a foreign language, to students just trying to understand business. The hours I have had to spend have been tremendous, reviewing the topics each week, and trying to figure out how to paint a picture that is understandable for someone who has no earthly idea of what the heck a debit or credit is and what that matters anyway.

My approach is to try to educate more than evaluate. As I tell each class, I assume everyone is an A student, you have to prove me wrong. My main goal or focus is to educate them, not just about accounting, but about business and some of the great things, and maybe not so great things, that happen in business. I tell stories, lots of stories, because seriously, accounting is not that interesting. It is vital, it’s important to run a business, but it’s just not that exciting. I try to make the class as fun and interesting as possible, but I’m sure my students would tell you, I fail in many cases. But, just like them, I’m a work in process, so that’s OK, I need to keep working at it until I find a solution.

OK, so the questions come every semester from students, why do you teach? Great question! I’m the Chief Financial Officer at WIKA Instrument, and I definitely have plenty to do, plenty of responsibility, and to be quite honest, I make plenty of money if there is such a thing. So, why do I teach? It probably comes down to the following reasons:

It's Not the Money! – That should be the first caveat I guess. The money is far from great, and I’m not complaining and I don’t blame GGC. In fact, last year, when they were going through some budget issues, I told them if they needed to or wanted to cut my pay, I had no problem with that. Practically, they probably can’t do that due to rules in place, but money isn’t the issue. I spend a great deal of time tutoring, which I don’t get paid for, because I love to tutor. My belief is that students who come to tutoring really want to learn, so that is where I get the greatest amount of enjoyment or fun. Don’t get me wrong, the extra money is nice, but that is far from the reason why I do this.

It Makes Me Better at My "Real" Job – Over the last few years, as I’ve taught, and learned how to teach, I’ve had a huge benefit from this at my job at WIKA. I’ve had many people tell me that my presentations at work are much better than they’ve been before. It’s really quite simple. At college, I’m trying to explain accounting and business topics to students who in many cases, have never had any experience in business. I have to push myself to figure out how to help them understand these topics. If I can figure out how to help them understand business topics, when they haven’t ever seen them before, how much easier would it be for me to explain these same type of topics to people who have at least some understanding of business? It has made a huge difference.

My Students are Incredible in so Many Ways – Many years ago, I golfed on weekends. Then our twin sons, Patrick and Sean, were born, and my wife Laurel said, “you can either work less or quit golfing”. I quit golfing of course (by the way, Laurel loves that story, so I tell it often). I remember when I did golf, I really wasn’t very good, but each round, I’d have at least a few shots that made me think I could get really good at this, and it would bring me back each week, remembering that one shot that you put within a few feet of the pin, or that one drive that was perfectly placed in the fairway.

Every class is different. Every class has its own personality. Every class presents its own set of challenges for how to teach them. No class is the same, no semester is the same. I’ll be clear, I’ve had some classes that were very frustrating. I’ve had some that were incredibly hard working and did great. I’ve had some that were mediocre academically, but I loved them for their personality. Every semester is exciting for what each class brings. I get so much enjoyment from each class, they energize me, they challenge me to be better at what I do, they are fun to be around.

Each semester, it’s always interesting to watch how the class develops. I’ve had some unbelievable students, who push the limits, come close or even get perfect scores on tests. It’s so much fun to get to grading tests, when you are seeing if some of those students will reach that pinnacle, a perfect score. I’ve also had some that really struggled with the course material, accounting isn’t for everyone, but they persevere through. Through hard work, through a great deal of struggles, they push themselves to attain a C or even a B, even though accounting isn’t a discipline that they understand that well.

I’m really not sure which of these students excites me more. I love the really smart ones, who push themselves to get perfect scores, to attain the highest levels. I also love the ones who don’t understand accounting, but are willing to do whatever they can to understand it as best they can, enough, to at least get a passing grade. I had one student once, who through tears, said to me, “I’m really not stupid.” And she wasn’t, but accounting was a completely foreign language to her. She worked her butt off, and yes, she passed with a C.

My Students Make Me a Better Person – I remember a sermon once when our minister talked about two young people who had been in psychiatric hospitals that he was working with. His main point was that these two students did so much for him, provided so much inspiration to him, he wasn’t really sure what he did for them, but they did so much for him. That is basically how I feel about my students. I’m really not sure what I do for them, but I know what they do for me. They challenge me to be a better person. They continually push me to be better as a teacher, and as a person.

I’ve always wanted to do great things, mainly for God, but also for my community. I finally figured out or heard from God when I was finally really listening, I will never do great things. But, as Mother Teresa once said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” My hope is that I am reaching some of my students, even if it’s just one, or a handful, I hope I’m reaching them and helping them grow in their lives and their careers.

It’s easy as an old person, like me, to look down on the “younger generation”, but we have so much that we can learn from them. Each day, I learn something. I learn about how to teach better. I learn how to treat people better. I learn about the struggles that young people are going through today. I learn about me, and how I can be a better me. Each semester, I hope and pray they ask me back, they give me the opportunity to teach again, to be around this great group of students again. I love the surprise each semester brings, the excitement of a new class, the thrill of a new group of personalities.

So why do I teach? Just like with so many things in life, you set out to do something for others, and eventually you find, the one who gets the greatest benefit, is you.