This Isn't My First Rodeo

Last weekend I had the honor to serve as Father of the Bride for my daughter Kelly’s wedding to Clayton Crowe.   It was a little over four years ago that I had the opportunity to do the same for my daughter Megan’s wedding to Thomas McDonald, so I knew what how special this weekend would be.  Being the Father of the Bride is an incredible experience, it probably ranks up there close to getting married myself and seeing the birth of my children, it is that special.

Having experienced it before, I wanted this time to be extra special.  I knew that this would be my last time getting to give one of my daughters away, and I knew how much I enjoyed it the first time, and I wanted everything to be perfect this time.  This was probably a bit of a problem for me, I stressed too much on it being perfect, and didn’t enjoy the lead-up to the wedding.  It was much better for Megan and Thomas’ wedding, the wedding took place in Chicago, I was completely out of the planning, which was much better.  Having said all of that, Kelly and Clayton’s wedding was perfect, it was one of the highlights of my life.

There are so many highlights, so many special moments from the weekend, but I’ll just mention a few:

·         The weather did not cooperate!  The wedding was supposed to be outside, but due to rain, we had to hold it inside.  Kelly and Clayton had chosen a great wedding venue, the Payne-Corley House in Duluth, Georgia (http://paynecorleyhouse.com).  The staff there did a fantastic job converting the room quickly to go from a wedding to a reception.  You can’t control the weather, you just have to deal with it.

·         The young ladies in the Bridal Party were fantastic.  They were the ones who did the heavy lifting over the weekend.  They did all the preparation, nails, hair, dresses, they got very little down time, they did everything necessary to be even more beautiful than they already were, and they did it without any complaints.

·         The men?  They golfed.  OK, the weather wasn’t good, it rained and was cold, and they were incredibly upbeat even with less than ideal weather conditions.  It was so nice to be around such a nice group of young men, who were so full of life.

·         We had friends and family who came from near and far for the wedding.  We had friends from church, friends from WIKA, family from Colorado, North Carolina, Washington and Indiana come for the event.  While I never like to focus on any one group or person more than others, I was so appreciative that we had six members of my Small Group from Dayton, Ohio, and spouses, come to the wedding.  They have been a special part of my life for almost 20 years, and I can’t imagine my life without them.

·         It was special for me that my Mom was able to be there.  As your parents get older, and you start losing them, it means so much when you can share those special days with them.  I was so happy she got to be there to see Kelly and Clayton get married as well as spend time with her various children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

·         Our sons, Patrick and Sean, sang before the wedding.  They sang two songs that Kelly had chosen, A Thousand Years and Come Thou Fount.  As Thomas McDonald pointed out, Patrick and Sean have sang at Megan and Kelly’s weddings, who will sing at their weddings?  He voted for Megan and Kelly.  I think they will disagree.

·         The best man, Joe Wagner, gave an incredible toast.   Joe has been a huge part of Kelly and Clayton’s lives, and he captured it so well.  Kelly and Clayton are really blessed to have Joe in their lives.

·         As I’ve said before, and the advice I’ve given other Fathers of the Bride, savor every moment.  The night will go by very quickly, enjoy every moment, slow down the night as much as possible, because it will be over before you know it.  I did everything possible to slow it down, but it still went by too quickly.

·         The next morning, we got up about 7 am and went over to the Hampton Inn where most people were staying and spent some more time with friends and family, celebrating the night and getting those last few moments together.  When you see each other so few times, it’s so hard to say goodbye, but that time is inevitable.

For those who know me, there are three major potential emotional times for me.  The first was walking Kelly down the aisle.  Since I had practice at this, I knew my best option was staring straight ahead, not making any eye contact with anyone, and getting this portion over as quickly as possible.  I faltered a bit, but did OK.

The second was giving the Father of the Bride speech.  Now, I didn’t have any practice with this.  Much to Megan’s dismay, I never gave a Father of the Bride speech at Megan’s wedding because I just didn’t know this was standard protocol.  When they asked me if I wanted to do one, I said, “No, that’s OK.”  So I practiced several times before the wedding, and each time, I broke down somewhere during the speech.  I knew I wouldn’t get through it completely, but I would give it my best.  Since my Mom had a hard time hearing what I said, here is a copy of my speech:

Hello, I’m Steve McCullough

Some of you who know me have said, “You’re really holding up well, we anticipated you would be emotional by now.”  Well this isn’t my first rodeo, I know there’s plenty of opportunities for me to break down, including giving this speech.

First of all, on behalf of Connie Brewer, Wayne Crowe, and my wife Laurel, we’d like to thank all of the friends and family who have come to help celebrate the wedding of Clayton and Kelly.  Some of you have traveled great distances to be here, and we really appreciate everyone being here, it means a lot to us.

Last Saturday, I decided to go to the Internet to try to figure out what I should say today.  I found one of those sites on You Tube that outlined a Father of the Bride speech, and it said, “you should start writing your speech six months before the wedding”.  Since I only had six days, I shut down the internet, and decided I had to wing it.

For those who know me, I much prefer the written word to the spoken word, so I’ve pretty much written my speech out.  I do realize that I’m the last thing before you all get to eat, so I’ll be brief.

First I have to apologize to Kelly and Clayton.  I couldn’t figure out how to work Franklin into my speech, so here is my gratuitous favorite picture of Franklin.

From the beginning, Kelly was our Little Angel from Heaven.  When she was little, we’d say in the evening, “Kelly, are you ready to go to bed?”  She’d run back to her crib, and hold her arms up, and we’d put her in her crib, and she’d go right to sleep.  She was a perfect baby and little girl. 

As she grew, she developed an incredible personality and huge smile that could win over anyone.  She was always a favorite at daycare and school, and I remember the one time they did one of those activities that they do at daycare with the children, and part of it was “what do you want to be when you grow up?”.  So they had posted all of these around the room, and we were looking at each of them, and it was fairly standard, one wanted to be an astronaut, one wanted to be a baseball player, one wanted to be a policeman.  Then we came upon one and laughed and laughed.  This one wanted to be a Toys-R-Us Kid when they grew up!  Then we saw the name.

As Kelly grew older, she developed a deep passion for sports, particularly college basketball.  Her deepest passion though is for the Duke basketball team.  I remember coming home the one day, and I looked down into the family room, and there was Kelly, lying on the couch crying.  I went down and asked, “Kelly what’s wrong?”  She wiped her eyes and sobbed, “Duke’s down by 10 with 8 minutes to go.”

As Kelly grew up, she would tell me periodically that she was my favorite daughter, and I would correct her and say, “You’re my favorite youngest daughter.”  We’ve continued to carry that tradition forward, and Kelly, you will always be my favorite youngest daughter, I love you very much, I’m very proud of you, and you look beautiful today.  And you have far surpassed your goal of being a Toys-R-Us Kid.

 When we first met Clayton, I knew he was something special.  How did I know?  Animals are often the best judges of character.  We had a dog at the time, Minnie, and she was the sweetest dog in the world.  I know of at least two people in this room, my brother Jim and Jim Dyer, who can attest to Minnie’s sweetness.  In any event, when Clayton came over, he was the world to Minnie.  She would claim him as her own, she’d sit on the foot stool right with Clayton and even try to climb into his lap.  She loved him.

As we grew to know Clayton, we found he was incredibly hard working.  He worked hard at his main job, he had a second job at Sears for many years, he got his MBA, he played I think every intramural sport known to man.  He’s also started writing articles and blog posts about sports, mainly college and professional basketball, that are really good, if you haven’t had a chance to see them.  I really hope that someday he gets to fulfill my dreams of becoming a sports writer, but we shall see.  He also has an obsession with the TV show Full House, that I still haven’t figured out, but that’s another matter.

A few months ago, I got an e-mail out of the blue from Clayton that asked if I was going to be home that night?  I told him no, I was out of town.  I didn’t hear anything back, so I didn’t think too much of it.  A few nights later, Laurel and I were sitting out back, and heard the doorbell ring, and it was Clayton.  He came in and starting talking, and he was talking faster and faster, and really wasn’t saying anything, so I couldn’t figure out what he was doing there.  And then it hit me.  Wait a second, could this be?  And then we heard those words, and he asked us if he could ask Kelly to marry him. 

You know, as a parent, you always hope and pray that your children find that one special person, the person they can love, the person who will love them back, their soulmate, that they can live the rest of their lives with.  We were blessed four years ago when Megan and Thomas got married, and we’re blessed now.  We couldn’t ask for a better man to marry Kelly.

Well, I’ve run out of paper and words.  All that’s left is, I’d like to ask you all to raise your glasses to Clayton and Kelly.  To my Little Angel from Heaven, to the wonderful young man who stole her heart, may God bless your marriage, may you grow to be soulmates, and may you have a long and wonderful life together. 

Did I make it through without breaking down?  No, I struggled at a few parts, which I knew I would, but that’s OK. 

The third was the Father of the Bride dance.  This was bad enough for me at Megan’s wedding, I cried like a baby, but this one was going to be even harder.  Patrick and Sean had written a song for the Father of the Bride dance, and it wasn’t until about four hours before the wedding that I heard part of it.  When I did, there was little doubt, I would be crying.  When they introduced the song, the boys pointed out that I asked them to write a song for the wedding while Sean was in Florida and Patrick was in Georgia at school.  Patrick wrote the lyrics, Sean wrote the music, no pressure at all.  I could have pointed out,   they had about five weeks this summer when they were both home that they could have done this if they wouldn’t have procrastinated, but I won’t go there.  Anyway, here were the lyrics to the song they wrote:

Last Dance

Verse:

All I ask for is one more chance,
One more moment, one last dance.
In that time before I let go
I’ll remember how you make my heart glow.
And then we’ll separate.
He’ll hold you in his arms.
I know he can’t wait.
But give me this moment,
Give me this dance
To hold my dear daughter
With these worn hands.

Chorus:

And how can it be that yesterday
You were hanging on to me
Like I was a mighty limb?
And now you’ve found someone to dance with
In sickness and health,
In joy and despair?
Make no mistake, don’t be confused.
I’m so very happy, but slightly bemused.
So let this last dance be my adjustment.
When you have kids, you’ll understand.

Verse:

Now it’s ending, we’ve come this far.
But here our paths fork right where we are.
Don’t be discouraged, don’t you fret.
Be always smiling, and don’t you forget
Give me this moment,
Give me this dance
To hold my dear daughter
With these worn hands

Oh yeah, I cried.  It was a beautiful moment, you envision those times when your daughter was a little girl, when you were the most important man in her life, and you see her now, as a beautiful young woman heading off to a life of her own.  All of those emotions come flowing together into a difficult but very wonderful moment.  It was all so worth it. 

So that was my last rodeo.  I’ve given away two beautiful, incredible daughters, but I’ve received two amazing son-in laws.  I couldn’t imagine two better young men to welcome to our family.  When Sean and Patrick eventually get married, it’s not the same being the Father of the Groom.  Much less pressure, much less stress, much less emotion.  I’ve had my time, I look forward to seeing some proud father get to be the Father of the Bride.  He will have earned it.

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.