Emptying The Vault

     Time to get some stuff out, cleanse my mind, and just basically reset.  Some things in life I just do not understand.  I am a big boy, and I can handle most anything, but the one thing that can hurt me is when my family is hurting, especially my kids.  Being a Dad is the greatest thing in the world to me, and I cherish each and every moment that I get to do the job of Daddy.  I hurt tremendously when my kids are hurting though.
     My kids are wonderful, and I truly believe that I would be in awe of my children even if I was not their Dad.  My kids love others, love God, and constantly amaze me with the things they accomplish, and the way they love without judgement.  I wish others were that way.
     Unfortunately, many in this world today seem to think that because my kids don't wear the best clothes, don't have the latest gadgets, and their Dad picks them up in a vehicle that is on it's last legs that my children are somehow less than they are.  It hurts when my kids talk about how they get treated different because of stuff like this.  I went through the same thing when I was young, and I know how it hurts.  I would give anything if my kids didn't have to feel the same hurt.
    I know that going through these things made me stronger, but I still want to protect my kids.  I know however that this world is not a very good place right now, and that they have to face the world and stand on their own merits.  I will protect them, but I also let them face the harsh realities of life sometimes.  It's not easy to do.
     Tonight, I found a letter one of my kids had written, and it tore my heart out.  I have had to make some tough decisions lately to protect my family, and the kids aren't old enough to understand.  One in particular feels that they are somehow responsible for the changes that had to be made to shield my family from being ridiculed.  The saddest part is, the only thing my child wanted was not for anything bad to happen to the people that were judging them unfairly, and treating them different, they just wanted everyone to be happy, and "things to be the way they were."
     That's where I have to be the bad guy, and make the changes that are going to hurt in the short term, but that I know will be best in the long run.  It's hard, because the kids can't see things from my perspective.  All I can do is continue to do what I have done before: love my family, teach them to love God and others, and raise them to realize that not having the best in material things does not make them any less of a person than anybody else.  If I do that, I have done my job.
     I am proud of my family, and will defend them as best I can.  If it makes me the bad guy in the eyes of the world, then so be it.  I am Dad, and that is my job.

Politics

     This article is about poilitics, from the Latin Poli, meaning many, and tic meaning blood sucking animal.

     One day I was out walking through the woods with two of my friends, one a die hard Democrat and the other a hard core Republican.  After a while we decided we needed to get back as it was getting late and we were hungry.  Soon we realized we were hopelessly lost.  Not only were we lost, but after walking all day we were extremely hungry.  Luckily, we came across a huge apple tree.
     The Republican said "this is my land, and my apple tree.  I will be glad to let you have some of my apples, all we need to do is for one of you to climb up and shake the apples down."  I asked "who do you guys think should climb the tree?"
     The Republican said "since this is my land, and my tree, I shouldn't have to do it.  I have let you walk my land, and I am offering my tree.  One of you should do it."
     The Democrat said "I would love to climb the tree, but maybe if we sit here long enough the apples will just fall from the tree and we will have something to eat."
     I told the Democrat "let's be fair about this.  It's his tree, and his apples.  I will climb the tree if you will catch the apples when they fall and divide them out."  Everybody agreed, so up the tree I went.  I climbed the tree, and shook with all my might, watching the apples fall to the ground.
     I climbed back down expecting my share.  I looked, and the apples were still sitting on the ground where they had fell.  The Democrat was sitting under a tree watching everything unfold.  I asked him, "why didn't you divide the apples out?"  He replied "the apples are on the ground, bring me one and I will eat it."  the Republican said "wait a minute, these are my apples and I will decide who gets what."
     I figured that I had worked hard, and deserved an apple, so I reached down to pick one up.  The Democrat said "Hey, that's my apple, bring it here and let me eat it."  I said if you want one, get one yourself."
     The Republican said "These are my apples, pick them up, take them all to town and sell them and I will let you have one for every 1,000 you sell."
     This went on for a long time.  I decided I was going to try to make my way out of the woods myself. I asked if either of them were going with me, since nothing was getting accomplished.  The Republican said "I own the land, so I shouldn't have to go."  The Democrat said "it's not my land, so I shouldn't have to go.  When you get out send help back for us"  The Republican said "when you come back, bring $20 as I need to charge you for the damage to my tree."
     I made my way out of the woods and finally found a road.  I walked down the road a little ways and finally found a little store.  The owner was a nice man and seeing my sad state gave me a drink and a sandwich before offering to dive me home.  He asked if I was the only one lost and I told him no, but the others were too far gone to try to rescue.  They later found them starved to death in the middle of a big pile of apples.

Randomosity

     A lot on my mind, haven't posted in a while, so free thought for the first blog in a while.  I can't for the life of me, get below 280 pounds.  It doesn't matter what I eat, or what I do, I cannot break the 280 pound barrier.  I take solace in knowing that I am eating better, and taking somewhat better care of myself though.
     My son started his second season of playing football yesterday.  This year, he gets to play with kids his own age, and close to his own size.  I worried about him last year, as a small 6 year old playing with some good sized 6 and 7 year old's he struggled at first, but thanks to some great coaches who took the time to work with him he started getting the hang of things.  This year, he gets to play in a 7 year old only league, and he isn't as mismatched as far as size.  His first practice, he seemed like he was really enjoying himself, and knew what he was doing.  As always, I was proud of my son.
     My youngest daughter can't decide what she wants to do.  At first, she wanted to play fall softball, but that cost a lot more money than we had to spend.  She then decided to cheer, then to not do anything.  Now she has decided maybe she wants to play soccer again.  The soccer will be a challenge, with me trying to be in two places at once with a football player and a soccer player.  If that's what she decides, I will do my best to make a way.
     My oldest is now a freshman in high school.  She will be in her second year marching with the high school band.  I listen to her practice her clarinet, and am amazed at how much she has improved.  She played soccer for many years, until it started interfering with band, then she gave soccer up.  She was an incredible defensive player, and the one game she got to play forward she scored two goals in a 2-0 win.  Her ability on defense normally kept her on that side of the field though.  Now band is her thing.  She takes after her Daddy with that.  I only hope she can take her musicianship and parlay that into a music scholarship.  Her grades are good, and she can write her own ticket when she gets ready to go to college.
     We have that conversation often, about grades, college, scholarships.  I had the opportunity to go to college, and graduated.  Unfortunately some questionable choices on my part, and being completely burned out when I got out of college led me to waste my opportunity.  I will not let up on reminding her about her ability to change her circumstances, and to do better than her Daddy did.
     I often think about choices I made, and would I change anything.  I am not going to lie, sometimes when I get up to go to work, with bills piling up, I think maybe I would change things if I could.  Then I look at my family, I would not change a thing if it meant any chance of them not being in my life.  I firmly believe that I have been blessed, no matter what the circumstances in my life at any time.  I will take my family over a new house, a new car, or anything like that any day.
     Finally, A friend of mine lost his wife yesterday.  She was 40 years old.  Always, always, always take the time to let the people in your life know just how much you love them every chance you get.  You never know when you will not have that chance again.

Biggest Loser, Again

             It's time once again for the start of the second biggest loser competition.  My goal is to get healthy and to try to once again lose some weight.  Last time I lost close to thirty pounds, this time I am not going to set goals, other than to do my best.  I will  still come clean about my weight as I go.  No more biscuits, no more Krispy Kreme doughnuts, no more ice cream.
     I have put a few pounds back on since the last time, not much, about 10 pounds, but enough that I am going the wrong way.  I don't want to keep going back.  Once again I am going to try to just set my goal to get healthy.
     This has been a life long struggle for me, and one that I will fight for the rest of my life.  I want to be there when my kids are older, see my grandkids one day.  That is what is going to keep me going.  Say a prayer for me, I still have a long way to go.  I can do this though.

Aurora

    I apologize ahead of time for the tone of this post, but  this needs to be said.  Friday morning we all woke up to the news of the shooting in Aurora Colorado.  It seemed surreal, again.  This kind of stuff happens way too often these days.  I was numb.  I got ready and headed in to work.
     To be honest, I had pushed it to the back of my mind, until I came upon a friend who was in tears.  I asked her if she was okay, and she said she had just been reading about the shooting, and that there were a lot of kids in the theater.  I hadn't given that much thought.  That set me off.  All lives are precious, but to me, kids are especially so.  One of the victims was only 6 years old.  How do you shoot a 6 year old girl?  I'm off track already.
     What kind of sick being does these kind of things?  God asks us to forgive, but how can you find forgiveness for actions like these?  I don't know, if my family was the victim of something like this that I could.  That's honesty.  The more information that came out, the worse it became.
     Big man he was, he came in, shot these innocent people, while HE was wearing body armor to protect himself.  Then afterwards, he was found HIDING near his car.  Then the news was reported that this scum had booby trapped his apartment with explosives, somehow fixed it where loud music would start playing so someone would come to investigate, and set off explosions killing even more innocent people.  Sick.
     Of course, the media was soon all on top of things, spending more time talking about gun control and trying to play political games casting blame on whichever political party they were not affiliated with, throwing out innuendo and half truths.  Forget about the tremendous toll this tragedy is taking on families, the Aurora community, and the nation as a whole, we have a political agenda to push.  Early Friday morning, ABC news was speculating that the shooter was a member of the Tea Party, and were pushing that fact on the newscast.  Never mind that they didn't check their facts, and that the Tea Party member was 50 years old and not 24 like the shooter.  Of course, in their retraction, they blamed social media, and members of the public for the misinformation.  The ones that used this tragedy to push political agendas are scum too.
     Now we will be faced with glory hogging lawyers jumping on every news program talking about how the shooter is innocent until proven guilty, misunderstood, and placing the blame for this on everyone else except for the one who did this.  It will be society's fault, the gun lobby's fault, everyone but the scum.  There have already been people on the news as of Saturday night speculating that he may have been sexually abused, and throwing out the insanity card.  Yes, the lawyers that use this to push their agenda and make money are scum also.
     Lastly, we will be faced with hearing for who knows how long about the scum in court, and all of his appeals.  Meanwhile, we will be providing him with medical, dental room and board, on top of probably providing the scum with legal representation. He is safe and secure in his isolated cell. He has also already requested a public defender, which the same people that survived the massacre will pay for with their tax money. I have an idea to curb some of these scum from taking innocent lives.
     If you do something like this, you get a fair trial.  If you can't afford a lawyer yourself, you get legal books. If you can't read, someone will read them to you.  If and when you are found guilty, you will not spend the rest of your life being taken care of by the taxpayers.  You will be put into a room, and be given to the families of the victims to dole out your punishment.  You won't know when they are coming, it could be today, tomorrow, or next week.  Oh yeah, they will be wearing body armor and be heavily armed.  Have a nice day.

Herbie

     I lost another friend this week.  Herbert "Herbie" Roberts passed on to his reward after a long, difficult battle with illness.  Seems like this happens all too frequently lately.  Herb was a one of a kind character.  I had not seen or talked to him in a while, but my memories of him are fond and will live with me and many others for a long time.
     Most people called him Herbie, but to me he was always Herb.  I met Herb years ago when I was working in the denim mill.  I liked him from the day I met him.  Many people put on an act, and when you get to really know them you find out how they really are.  Herb was real every second of every day that I knew him.  You knew by being around him he loved God, he loved his family, and he absolutely loved and enjoyed life.
     Herb worked an incredible amount of hours back when we worked together.  I would often ask him why he did it.  He would tell me real quick, he did it for his family.  I still remember how he would light up when he would talk about his family, and especially when one of them would come by the mill to see him.
     Herb and I both left the mill and went into a different line of work.  We both went into the car business.  I lasted a year, Herb did it until the end of his life.  Several times when he was working in Dalton I would go out of the way to go to the dealership he worked at just to say hi, and catch up with him for a few moments.  He left there and went to work in Gadsden, so I didn't get to see him as much.
     Occasionally he would cross my mind, and I would look up his number and call him up.  I guess the last time I talked to Herb was a few years ago when we were looking for a van.  I called him up and asked him if he had one that we would like.  I had already looked online at their inventory, and knew they probably didn't, but took the opportunity to call him and talk to him for a few minutes anyway.
     Herb fought a tough battle the past few years, and I always dreaded hearing his latest setback.  I knew Herb was in bad shape, but figured he would win the battle somehow.  When I started to work and saw his name at the funeral home I was heartbroken.
     I will always have one favorite memory of Herb.  Herb and I got along great, a lot of it had to do with our love of pranks.  When we worked together almost every day we would try to get one another.  Herb always won.  One time I thought I had gotten Herb.  I don't remember what I did, but I left work that evening for my long weekend off.  Herb hardly ever took off.  I didn't think much about it, until I came in to work the next week.  As soon as I walked in I saw the look on everybody's faces and knew something was up.
     I started to get ready to go to work, and headed towards my locker.  Every eye in the place was on me, and I knew I had been gotten.  When I got to my locker I noticed that there was something on the vent holes.  When I opened it up I knew what had happened.  The entire weekend while I was home, Herb was making me a snack of sardines and onions in my locker for me to have when I got back.  He had stuffed them through the vent holes.  Three days worth of sardines and onions.  He had won again.
     Some would say that Herb lost his battle this time, but I know better.  Herb was a man of true faith, and so his battle has been won.  He is with his Savior now, his race is over.  There are a few of us that worked with Herb back then that work together at another place now.  As I went around telling them about Herb's passing today all talked about the great memories they have of him, and how much they loved and respected him.  That is the best testimony anybody can ask for.
    I look forward to the day I see Herb again.  I just hope they don't have sardines and onions in Heaven.

Finding My Calling

      Lately I have been giving a lot of thought about life, mostly in what makes a person happy, and what defines a persons life.  I can honestly say that as far as I am concerned, the calling part is still far away from me.  I do know that driving a forklift in a manufacturing plant just does not seem like what my entire calling in life is supposed to be.  I have reached the one year date of the goal I set for myself, of being out of the plant in a year. I didn't make it.
     Most people look back at the first of each year, but since I set the goal a year ago, I am going to do it now.  I had some success, and some failures this past year.  I had a story make the national finals of a short story contest, and had the story actually get published by a national web site.  For that accomplishment I received $50.  I have made approximately $6.47 on this blog.  Needless to say, being a freelance writer does not look to be my calling.
     I have had a great year in being Daddy to my kids.  I have watched them play in the high school band, play baseball, football, soccer, and softball.  I have listened as my now 7 year old son, and my 9 year old daughter have brought tears to my eyes with some of the sweetest prayers I have ever hear.  I have watched my teenage daughter grow into an exceptional young woman.  My wife and I have grown closer.  I can count those as successes.
    I still have not been able to get my elderly mother out of her house, which is falling down around her and is not safe, into decent housing.  That has been a prayer of mine for years.  I also have not been able to get my family out of our mobile home and into a real house.  I am however thankful that we have roofs over our heads, and food to eat.  That's all we need.
     Something inside of me is gnawing away at me, and I can't get a grip on it.  There is something else out there for me, and I feel like I am so close to figuring it out I can't stand it.  I can feel it inside of myself, just waiting to burst out, but don't know what it is.  This next year I am going to try to focus more on figuring out what it is, and striving towards that calling.  When I get that gnawing feeling out of me, I know I will have relief.
     I have come to the conclusion that material things, although nice to have, are not what makes us happy.  This week we have been to an Atlanta Braves game, and will go to a Rome Braves game.  We have had a cookout with great friends and just sat on the deck watching fireworks, eating hamburgers, hot dogs and ice cream, and just enjoyed being with people that care.  The tickets to both games were freebies, and the cookout costs were minimal.  Money did not make those memories.
     Happiness comes from within.  That's what I have to get a handle on.  I don't know yet what the calling inside of me is, but know that I am close to finding what I am supposed to do with my life.  Until then, I am going to keep on enjoying the little things in life.

Butch

     Today's post is honoring a dear friend of mine.  I don't do this very often.  I have talked about my Dad, my Grandmother, Buford Fox, and Joyce Ozment.  Today's post is about a person who is near and dear to a lot of people, and who is fighting a very tough battle.  I hope in some way I can bring some attention to his battle, and maybe bring him a little help.

Johnny Butch

     I first met Johnny Butch in high school.  He was behind me in school, and played in the band.  Even back then Butch was a character.  He was always the life of the party, and had a personality that just drew everyone to him.  After high school I lost track of Butch for several years.
     Soon, I ran into Butch again, and we caught up on old times.  He had went into the Army, and had returned home.  I noticed that when Butch talked, his speech was a little slurred, and he didn't seem real steady.  I assumed he had a stroke or something, and didn't go too far into it.
     Later on Johnny Butch started attending the same church I was attending.  That's when I really got to know him.  Turns out, he had been doing P.T. in the Army, and had noticed that his endurance was failing.  Tests were ran, and Butch was diagnosed with a deteriorating cerebellum.  He told me that the longer he went, the worse he would get.
     Butch never let on to the struggles he was facing, even as his body failed him more and more.  He was active in the church, especially with the youth.  Everybody loved him.  He was a shining light.   As time went on though, Butch's health got worse.  Soon, even coming to church was a chore.  I once again lost track of Butch.
     Facebook brought us back together, and also brought the name of his disease.  Ataxia is the name.  I hate what it has done to Butch.  I saw Butch a few weeks back at a yard sale that was being held to raise money for him.  He was beaming when he saw me and the kids.  Butch couldn't wait to talk to the kids, and to just love them for a while.  They were proud to love him back.
     Butch has a wonderful wife, Pamela, who is a gift to him from God.  She is trying to raise $15,000 for Butch so that he can get stem cell treatments to fight this awful disease.  They have a Facebook page, HELP BUTCH CLARK FIGHT ATAXIAto help get the word out about their cause.  I ask you to join the group, and to do what you can to spread the word about this battle.  God Bless you Johnny Butch, I love you man.

Nap Time, NOT!!!

      I thought I was going to get a chance to grab a quick nap Wednesday afternoon.  My wife had a rare day when she didn't have to work her second job, and had picked up the kids and went to visit her Mother.  I had a few hours at home, by myself.  I looked forward to grabbing a few minutes sleep to try to make up for the sleep I have been losing this week.
     I came home, showered, put on my pajamas, then climbed into bed.  I was exhausted, to say the least.  I had just about drifted off, when the phone rang.  It was my Mother.  She called to let me know that some man with a strange accent and a Miami Florida number had called asking for me.  After she told him I didn't live there, he hung up.  She had to call and let me know.  I have no idea why a man with an accent would be calling me from Miami Florida.  I thought about it for a few minutes trying to figure it out, then decided that it wasn't as important as sleep.
     I had just about caught up with Mr. Sandman again, when I heard a knock at the door.  It was my Mom again, letting me know that she was going to the store, and bringing me the mail.  I thanked her, then stumbled back to bed and laid down again.  I was bound and determined to get those few elusive moments of sleep.
     I was really close again, when I heard another knock on the door.  I rolled back over and tried to ignore it, but the knock came again.  I got up and went to the door to find the girl from down the street wanting to know if Lauren could come out to play.  I told her Lauren wasn't home.  She looked at the bleary eyed stranger and turned to go home.
     Before I could get the door shut, my cell phone started ringing.  It was a friend of mine wanting to know if I had another friends number.  I told him I didn't.  He needed some air conditioning work done and was wondering if our friend could do it.  I gave him the name of the guy that does our heating and air work.  He apologized for waking me, and I told him not to worry about it, I had never been asleep to begin with.
     I should go back, get in the bed, and try again, but as sure as I do the guy from Miami will find my number.

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

     It's killing me.  This afternoon, after I picked up the kids from the sitter, I could tell that Lauren, my 9 year old, was upset.  I thought something might have happened during the day, or she was just having a bad day.  We got home, started trying to unwind, but Lauren went into her room and sat in the dark.  Later, she came out and went on the porch and sat on her bicycle.  I knew something wasn't right.
     I went out, sat on the swing, and patted the seat beside me for her to sit down.  She wouldn't.  Now I was really concerned.  I finally got her to come and sit in my lap, and thought she just wanted some Daddy time.  I asked her what was wrong.  She said nothing was wrong.  I asked again, and again she said nothing, and started crying.  Finally, I got her to spill the beans.
     Lauren was upset, because she never gets to see her Mama and Daddy much any more.  That was the hardest thing for me to hear.  I try my best to be there for my kids, nothing is more important to me than that.  For one of them to tell me they feel neglected is a hard pill to swallow.
     The problem is that we are like a lot of people, and are having to work our tails off just to make ends meet.  Daddy going in early and staying late, Mama working two jobs, just to make ends meet.  Kids don't understand things like this.  Summer is supposed to be the time when kids are with their parents, having fun.  Not seeing your parents is tough.  I know, I have been leaving for work in the middle of the night while my family is asleep, then picking the kids up when I finally get off, and getting to see my wife for a precious few moments when she finally comes home at night before I crash for my 4 or 5 hours of sleep.  I hate it.
     There are times I wish I could just let everything go, and just  have some family time.  If only it was that easy.  The hardest part is the kids knowing that this year there won't be a vacation, or much of anything special.  Kids just don't understand that you are hanging on by the skin of your teeth, and that you have to do what you are doing to survive.  That's when I realize that despite all of my good intentions, and all that I thought I was doing right, I have let my family down.
     Maybe I should have followed the money more, and worked the jobs where I could have made better money.  Maybe I was selfish in wanting to see my kids play ball, and be there for things like that.  I just don't know any more.  I know it hurts.  I want to be everything for everybody.  Right now we are between the rock and the hard place, and the kids are the ones that are paying the price.  That's the ultimate hurt.
     After I wrote this, my 9 year old came up to me and told me she had found some money and gave it to me.  It was a dollar bill, a couple of quarters, and a bunch of pennies.  I asked her where she found it, and she said it was on my bed.  I thought it might have fell out of my pocket, but then remembered I didn't have that kind of money on me.  I asked her about it again, and she finally told me the money was hers.  I tried giving it back to her, but she wouldn't take it.  She wanted me to have it, so that I wouldn't have to work so hard any more.  I have no doubt I have the best kids in the world.
     That gives me the strength to get back up at 3:00 a:m another day and get after it.  They aren't giving up on me, so I can't give up either.

The Amazing, Time Altering, Watch

     I have a watch that had been driving me crazy for a while now.  First of all, I do not wear expensive watches.  I hardly ever wear a watch at all unless it is the weekend.  Maybe if I did I could have avoided this whole mess, and I would not have felt so silly.
     I awoke Sunday morning and was getting ready to go to church.  I got out my cheap Wal-Mart watch (which is really a nice looking watch) and went to put it on.  I looked at the time, and the watch was once again 10 minutes behind the clock beside my bed.  I was sure I was going to have to get a new watch, this one was going crazy.  I started thinking back, and could remember at least two other times recently that I had went to put on my watch, and it was 10 minutes slow.
     Normally, this would be a signal to me that maybe I needed a new battery, but I had replaced the battery not even a month ago, so that couldn't be it.  Not only that, but after I reset my watch, it would somehow start running fast, and would end up about 10 minutes ahead.  I would reset it again, and would be good for about another week until it would do it all over again.
     Maybe the watch was just defective, after all it was a $10 watch, and I have had it a while.  If it were defective it should either run fast or slow all the time, not one then the other.  I stood there a minute looking at the watch, then looking back at the clock beside my bed.  Slow, fast, slow, fast, what was going on?
     I took one last look back at the clock beside my bed to get the correct time, then reset my watch again.  I thought for a second I really needed to get a move on, or else I was going to be pushing it to get to church.  I then remembered that I had set the clock beside the bed 10 minutes fast, so that when the alarm went off in the mornings I could steal a few extra minutes.  That's when it hit me, the watch wasn't defective, it was me who was setting the watch ahead 10 minutes by that clock, then setting it back later by a clock on the right time.  Yeah, only me.

Tick Tock

     These moments aren't going to happen like this very many more times.  Those were the words I kept telling myself.  I turned one way and my 14 year old daughter was asleep beside me, and turned the other to see my soon to be 10 year old.  It was the first time in a long time I could remember this happening, and I was in heaven.
     I did not expect to be trying to get both of my daughters out of my bed and into their own.  I had gone into my bedroom and turned my television on simply because I wasn't interested in what was on in the living room.  The next thing I know, I have a 9 year old with me.  This is not unusual, as lots of times she will come and spend time with me, watch T.V., and just chill.  The next thing I know, I also have a 14 year old.  That was a shocker.
     My 14 year old, Rose, and I have a good relationship, and we have some really good talks.  These talks normally come when we are driving somewhere, or are somewhere with nothing to do but talk.  For her to want to spend time with her Dad at home is rare indeed.  Sure enough though, here she was.  Lauren, my soon to be 10 year old, got up to go in the living room, so I turned to give Rose my undivided attention.
     It hit me that my little girl wasn't a little girl any more.  Somewhere along the line, she grew up on me.  I started petting her hair, like I did when she was a young child, waiting on her to tell me to stop, and then get up and go.  Much to my surprise, she looked at me contentedly and smiled.  I kept petting her until I saw her reach up and take her glasses off.  She was asleep a few seconds later.  I laid there and wondered to myself if that would be the last time we would have moments like these.  They hardly ever happen now, and she is just getting older.
     Soon after, Lauren came back in and laid down.  I petted her for a minute, and she was soon asleep also. I was content with the world in that moment.  I made sure they were gone for the night, then woke them up just enough to walk them to their beds.  A few more minutes of petting and they were out for the night.  This would have been great, but what happened next just topped everything off.  As I went to go get back on the bed, my soon to be 7 year old son came up and followed me to the bed, and laid down.  It took a little more petting, but sure enough he was soon gone too.  I carried him to his bed, stopped by to give my wife a kiss, and then headed to bed again.
     As I laid there I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by what had happened.  I have been blessed with three wonderful children, and to have those kinds of moments are priceless.  I know that they will not last forever, and so each time I cherish them more and more.  I might not do much right, but if there is one thing that I hope I can say I do well, that is being a Dad.  I can't give my kids much, but when they look back I hope and pray that they can say without a shadow of a doubt that they knew their Dad loved them.  I can leave no greater legacy.

Dream A Little Dream Part 2

     We met some friends at Steak and Shake, and it was time to treat the kids again.  After they decided what they wanted to eat, I let them order a milkshake to go with their food.  This was something else that I hardly ever  get to do, so it was a good surprise, and a fun treat.  We ate and then took the short drive to the ball field for the game.
     I had planned on sitting in the box seats, the cheap seats if you will.  When we got to the stadium I was concerned, as we found out it was Rec night, and there were recreation teams everywhere.  I started wondering if we would be able to get 5 tickets together for us and our friends, or even 5 tickets at all.  My fears were not helped when I got to the ticket window and asked for 5 box seat tickets, and was told the box seats were sold out.  I asked if there were any 5 seats together anywhere, and was told to hold on.  Turns out there were some filed lever seats, so I paid the extra money for the better seats, and went in.
    When we got inside we found our seats only 4 rows behind the visitors dugout.  The kids were extremely happy, and even more so when I told them right before the game started I would take them to the concession stand and let them get snacks.  After getting nachos, popcorn, and drinks, I also let them get a bag of cotton candy to share, which pretty much left me tapped out finally.  It was fun, and well worth it.  I was happy that I finally got to spoil the kids for a change.
     That night I went to sleep satisfied.  My wife and daughter were on their way home, and me and the younger two had a great weekend together.  That night I did something I hardly ever do, and had a good dream that I remembered.  I dreamed that I had finally caught a break, and had become successful.  I remember thinking during the dream that those kinds of weekends were going to be the norm, instead of the exception.  Sunday morning I woke up to reality though.  It was fun while it lasted.  Maybe the dream can get my fire going again to try to do something.  Maybe the creative juices will start flowing again.  Maybe.

Dream A Little Dream Part 1

     As I sit here, it is 6:28 a:m on Sunday morning.  I should be unhappy being up at this time on a Sunday, but I'm not, I am totally at ease for a change.  It has been an incredible week, all is peace for the moment. and the world is good.  Let me tell you all about it.

     My wife and oldest daughter have been gone to Washington D.C. this week.  They left out Tuesday night with a group of 8th graders.  That was about the only thing that wasn't perfect about the week, that they weren't here.  Right before they were to leave, my youngest daughter had a softball game, and that's where the real fun begins.  This is her first year playing softball, and she had been struggling with her hitting.  She had hit a few balls good, but had not gotten any hits in the first two games.  Tuesday was the third game, she got three.  Not only that, but her team won in the bottom of the last inning with a walk off two run home run with two outs.  I got to see this as I was driving off to take my wife and daughter to get on their busses.

     My other two kids brought home exceptional reports from school on Wednesday, and I have to say that for the entire week they were the most well behaved children.  I'm not saying they were perfect, but I had very few problems out of either of them.  I was amazed, and proud.  I took them to our local park Thursday night and we spent about an hour walking the train tracks, throwing rocks in the creek, and them playing and being kids.  Friday night brought another softball game, another two hits, and another win.

     Saturday was the day I was really looking forward to.  Saturday was my day to spoil the kids.  I don't get to do that very often, really spoil them.  I actually had a little money saved up, thanks to getting my story published, and another unexpected check, so I knew we could really have a good time.  We weren't loaded, but this was going to be one day where I decided I wasn't going to worry about every penny, and would just let the kids have fun.

     We started out by going to the batting cages.  Lauren has really been coming on strong with her hitting, but I wanted her to get in a little extra practice.  She knocked the cover off the ball.  I think she finally got it.  I can't wait until her next game.  Matthew took three times in the cage before he could hit the ball, but that wasn't unexpected with him never seeing a pitching machine before.  The third time through though he was finally hitting the ball, at 40 miles per hour.  Of course, he said he was going to tell everyone he was hitting home runs at 70 miles per hour.  We put the bats in the car, and headed inside to buy tickets to play mini golf.
     We walked back inside, and I got to thinking about how the kids are always wanting to play video games, but I never have the money to spare.  I decided that since I DID have the money to spare this time, the kids were going to get to play.  Sure enough, my pocket ended up full of tokens.  The kids had a ball, and somehow both of them even ended up beating their Daddy at air hockey.  Then we moved on to mini-golf.
     We played 18 holes, and were pretty much the only ones on the course.  This was great, because the kids could just have fun, and not worry about holding anybody up.  Lauren finally got her hole in one, which was kind of funny because the story that I wrote, that got published, which gave us the money to do all of this, all started at this same golf course with Lauren not getting a hole in one.  Anyway, we finished up the golf, then went to on to the big city to do our dirty little secret.
     I have to confess, this is something that is probably not right, but hey, I pay my membership and membership has it's privileges.  We had about an hour and fifteen minutes until we were to meet our friends that we were going to the ball game with for dinner.  The kids were starving, and I really didn't want to go and buy them anything, only for them to not eat when we got to dinner.  We were close to our local Sam's Club, so we dropped in, did a little looking around, and the kids did a little snacking on the free samples to hold them until dinner.  Yeah, I said it, the kids snacked on the free samples to hold them over.  Anyway, we left and went to dinner after this.

25 Down

     Another two weeks have gone by, which means another weigh in.  This time I knew I had struggled, not with what I was eating, but with just plain losing weight.  My body, it would seem, has adjusted to eating the foods that I am eating now.  That does not make me very happy.  Anyway, to the weigh in.
     Like I said, I knew that any weight loss would be minimal again this time.  I stepped on the scale, and the numbers 285 popped up.  I have now lost 25 pounds.  I still have quite a ways to go.  I am going to admit to something now that I have done this past weekend.  This weekend I ate normal food.  I ate biscuits and gravy, pizza, fried chicken, and even a few sweets.  I should feel guilty, but I had a good reason, I did it for the diet.
     I have lost a lot of weight before eating the way I am eating, but one thing I have noticed is that my body adjusts, and the weight loss stops.  Therefore, every so often I have to take a couple of days and basically load up on carbohydrates, so that I can "shock" my body back into weight loss.  It is a sacrifice that I really hated to make (wink).
     Now that it is Monday, I am back to going without bread, without sugar, without flour, and with a ton of chicken and salad.  Hopefully I can get back to some good results again in the next two weeks.  25 pounds sounds like a lot, but is just a drop in the bucket with what  need to lose.  It's going to be a long road, but at least I have gotten a good start down it.

April 26, 2005

     There are dates in each of our lives that we will always remember.  Some we remember for good things, and some for things not so happily recalled.  April 26, 2005 is one of those days for me.  It was a day that completely turned my life upside down.

My Dad in his younger days

     I remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing.  I was in my bedroom, getting dressed to go to work.  I heard the telephone ring, and had that feeling that comes when the phone rings at strange times, I knew something was wrong.  It was my brother, and he told me that I needed to get to my Dad's right away. That was all he told me, and was really all I needed to know.  I knew that my Dad was gone without being told.
     I don't remember much after I go there, other than the utter feeling of wishing it were a dream and that I would wake up.  I remember a dear friend of mine coming by and trying to comfort me.  I had tried to do the same for him just a week earlier when he found his teenage son dead.  It was something that I wish we didn't have to share, that heart wrenching grief. I tried to be brave, and hold myself together, but I could not tell you right now if I did it or not.  It's funny how you can remember some of the most minute details in times like those, but the big things get lost quickly to time.
     I do remember finally falling apart after my wife got there.  Part of it was from her being there, and being my shoulder to lean on, but the biggest part was knowing that she was carrying my only son and that my Dad would never get to see him.  That part still hurts even today as I write this.  Life threw me two cruel curve balls with my youngest two children.  My Grandmother died while we were expecting my youngest daughter, and my Dad died while we were expecting my son.  Some times life is even more unfair than others.  Somebody at his funeral told me how excited my Dad was to be having another grandson, and how much he talked about it.  That was, and still is one of the biggest hurts in my life.
     My Dad and I didn't always get along, and I regret every day the years that we foolishly let get away.  I was, and am a lot like him in some ways.  I am stubborn and he was too.  That cost us several of what should have been some of our best years.  I thank God though that we were able to get past our pride, and become close in the last years.  One story. that hardly anybody knows sums up my Dad.  I think he will forgive me for telling this now, because it shows just how my Dad was.
     I was in the process of adopting my oldest daughter.  We had paid the lawyer, filed the paperwork, and thought everything was going to go smoothly.  Soon we found out that there were some problems, and more paperwork was going to have to be done, and more money was going to have to be paid.  I had no clue what to do.  Then, as most of the time now, money was extremely tight, and I had no idea how I was going to come up with the additional funds.
     I had gone to my Dad's and was with him out in his shed.  I didn't want him to know that we had run into problems, but he could sense something was wrong.  He kept on asking me what it was, until I finally gave in and told him.  I left with the money that night.  He knew how important it was to me, and he knew how important it was that the adoption went through.  I will always, always be thankful for that.
     I know that some time today, April 26, 2012 it will hit me and I will break down thinking about things.  I guess that is natural.  My son last night told me that he wanted to be just like me when he grows up.  I hope he can be like my Dad.  He was better than me.
     I still have a dream occasionally where I find out my Dad is not gone, and is still alive.  The vividness of the dream is startling.  I haven't had it in a while, but when I do it is both reassuring, and heartbreaking at the same time.  Everyone who has ever lost a parent misses them, and I miss my dad every day.  This is for you, Jerry Lamar Woods.  I love you, I miss you, and I can't wait to see you again one day.

My Pilot Light Is Out

     I haven't posted in a while.  Actually, I haven't done much of anything noteworthy in a while.  I have not had any fire for anything in a while.  I don't know why this happens, but it just does some times.  I call it my pilot light going out.
     I have known it was going on for a while now.  I can feel it.  Wednesday somebody else finally noticed.  A friend of mine at work asked me what was wrong.  I asked them what they meant, and they said I wasn't myself lately.  I told them I really didn't know.  I wish I did.  I hate being this way.  When my pilot light is burning, I am excited about things, creative.  Not lately.
     Don't get me wrong.  I still function.  I do my job, and do the things I have to do to get by.  The problem is I am just going through the motions.  That makes things worse, because I can do better.  Maybe it is a mid life crisis.  I am 44 years old now.  The thing that bothers me is I look at my life, and I am reminded of all of the things I could have done, and should have done, but didn't.  When you reach my age, you realize that a lot of your dreams for the future will more than likely be just that, dreams.
     I have a wonderful life, a decent (but not great) job, and a tremendous family.  That in itself should keep the fire burning.  I wake up in the morning though and muddle through the day.  One day seems just like the next.  Even writing this blog tonight is a chore, when it used to be fun.  I'm hoping that by writing it down, something will click, and I will find something to light the fire again.  Unfortunately I keep coming back to where I started, caught in a rut.
     I may wake up this morning with a new outlook, but it hasn't happened in a while.  Maybe some flash of inspiration wil hit me.  Maybe I will find a new goal to kick start me.  I just don't know.  I know it is driving me crazy.  I have asked several of my closest friends for prayer, which is something I never do.  I feel guilty asking people to pray for me, I have already been blessed.  I just need something to get my fire lit again.
     Maybe it all goes back to my being such an interim type of guy.  I have always been just good enough at things, but never really good at anything.  I take that back, I was really good at music way back when, but let that talent dry up.  I don't even have the desire to sing any more, and could not tell you the last time I even thought about playing an instrument.  I don't even feel like writing any more.
     Maybe it has something to do with my not achieving my latest goals.  I have seen my battle with my weight slow down dramatically.  I am still losing, but have gone from losing weight noticeably to losng weight painfully slow.  Maybe it has to do with the fact I had set a goal for myself last year to be doing something other than working in a factory by July 4th this year, and not being even remotely close to doing that.  I just don't know.
     I do know that something has to give.  I cannot keep on going through the motions like I have been.  I have to get that fire burning again.

A Quick Update

     I have not been very good at posting lately, and am really not in the mood to do so now.  I did however promise to keep myself accountable in my weight loss journey.  Easter weekend took a toll on me.  I am not even going to try to say that I stuck to my diet that weekend, because I didn't.  I did however do more walking, and tried to be more active.  All in all I had a total of 2 pounds lost for the past two weeks, which was a lot better than gaining.  That brings me down to 290 pounds, with a grand total of 20 pounds lost.  Bear with me as I have just not been in the mental mood lately to blog.  Hopefully soon I can get back in the groove.

All Quiet On The Home Front

     My family is on spring break this week.  One of the things that my wife does most years is to take the kids on a trip to see her sister and her family.  Since my school days are long behind me, and I don't work at the school, I don't get to celebrate spring break.  What this means is that my wife and kids take off and leave Daddy at home.
     I always start the time off with great intentions of all of the things I am going to get accomplished while they are gone.  It hardly ever gets done.  For some reason, Daddy just can't get as much done without his helpers as he can when they are here.  Funny how that works.  I got the grass mowed, and caught a pesky possum that has been hanging around our house.  Thankfully the kids weren't here when the possum got caught, as the last time I caught one they all thought it was cute and wanted to keep it.
     I actually cooked a few meals that were faithful to my diet plan. Truthfully, when my family isn't here eating isn't very high on my list of priorities anyway.  Mostly my diet when they are gone consists of Diet Coke.  I washed my work clothes, and went to the store and bought what I needed for my work week.  I even washed and folded some clothes.  I'm not allowed to do that when my wife is here, as I don't wash them the way she does.  I even washed my dirty dishes.
     The one thing I can't seem to get done when they aren't here is sleep.  It goes against conventional wisdom, but I can't sleep when the family isn't here.  It's just too quiet.  I miss the love I guess.  While they were gone my 6 year old son told them he wanted crab legs.  I guess he thinks Kentucky is the only place that has them.  My sister in law sent me a picture of him eating one.  He was beaming.  I told my wife when she called later I was glad that he got to be spoiled a little.  Lord knows I can't spoil him like I want to.
     By the time this gets posted they will be on  their way home again, but at the time I am writing it they are still gone.  I miss them.  When they are home the TV is mostly on cartoons, or some other kids-teens type show.  For some reason when they are gone there's nothing on TV.  Funny how that works.  Even Saturday when the Braves were on TV they only got to play a few innings before they got rained out.  So much for that.
     The trip up and back is the worst for me, because I worry.  As I write this one part of that is down, but they still have to get back home.  I will be a nervous wreck.  I just need some noise in the house.

Now Comes The Hard Part

     We weighed in again Friday for our biggest loser competition.  I promised to be accountable during this process, and to make my struggle with my weight public.  When you lose weight you normally lose a good bit in the first couple of weeks, and mine was no exception.  I lost 12 pounds at the first weigh in.  I was apprehensive for this last weigh in as I knew that my losses had not been as good, and was seriously wondering if there would be much if any difference this time.
     I had stayed on my eating plan, except for the previous Sunday when I ate a sensible lunch at Arby's, then had a not so sensible Oreo Blast (medium, not the normal large) at Sonic afterward.  Sunday night I topped it off with a bowl of Rice Crispies.  Other than that, I was on the mark.  The time came to weigh in, and I nervously stepped on the scale.  The scale read 292 pounds.  I had lost another 6 pounds.  I was not exactly thrilled, but I'll take it.
     My goal for this beginning phase of getting healthy was to lose 40 pounds in 16 weeks, the length of the biggest loser competition.  I am already almost halfway there.  40 pounds in 16 weeks amounts to 2.5 pounds a week.  That was a high goal.  Most experts say to try to lose a pound a week.  Most everyone else's weight loss has slowed also, so I was not alone.
     I knew going in that this was not going to be easy.  I am older now, and losing the weight is not as easy as it once was.  I can't work out like I did when I was 20, or 30.  Heck, the last few years have been rough and I can't even do the things I could do at 40.  Growing older is tough.  I do what I can do.  Thursday night while my son was at his baseball practice I walked around and around the baseball field.  I am trying to walk as much as possible.  The elliptical machine that we picked up at a yard sale several years ago gets brought out occasionally, but is still mostly used as a hat rack.
     The good thing is that I can actually wear my clothes a little more comfortably now.  There are still a lot of clothes in my closet that I have had since my last health journey that I have never worn.  Maybe they won't be out of style too badly by the time I get to where I can wear them.  Most were gifts from my family, and I am ashamed that they thought enough of me to buy them and I could not use them.  I hope they are proud of me when I finally do.

A Tribute

     As I write this, it is 6:05 Thursday afternoon.  My wife is having a pampered chef party in our living room.  I am locked in my bedroom.  That's the best way to handle it, I don't care anything about that kind of thing.  I am a guy, and a pot is a pot, a pan is a pan.  I do have a lot on my mind, but today's blog is going to be a tribute to someone who I admire, a man that has set a great example.
    When I was in high school, I had a very dear friend named Melissa.  We were in the band together, she was a couple of years behind me.  We were like peanut butter and jelly though.  I never had any sisters, but have been blessed to have had two women in my life that were like sisters to me, my older "sister" Karen, and my younger "sister" Melissa.  I grew close to Melissa's family, her Mother was dear to me, and her husband and I were inseperable for years.  I even became a Godfather to her two sons.  One day I was hanging out with her husband at their home, when an old Dodge truck pulled up.  It was her grandfather, Buford Fox.
     I didn't know Buford then, and was a little aprehensive about meeting him.  At the time, I had long hair which I kept in a ponytail, and I could just tell Buford was a straight shooter.  My fears were relieved when he talked to me, and if he was bothered by my appearance, he sure didn't show it.  At the time, I wasn't living the best kind of life, and one of the goals of David and Melissa was to get me to come to church with them.  That was 15 or so years ago.  When I finally gave in and went, I found out Buford was the choir director.  Later on I found out he had been the choir director for just about forever.  The more I got to know Buford, the more I found out just how genuine he was.  He was never judgemental, and was always there when anybody needed him.
     Later on down the road, I found out that Buford had an amazing accomplishment.  He had, and still has, perfect attendance in Sunday School.  Now, when I say this I'm sure some of you are saying so what, but you don't understand.  When I say perfect attendance, I mean for 40 plus years.  I say 40 plus, because I long since lost track of the exact number.  To put that in perspective, this man has had perfect attendance in Sunday School for about as long as I have been alive.
     At the church that I attend, Buford was the choir director, and the chair of the deacon board.  What eventually happened was that another choir director, called the worship leader was brought in, and Buford would lead a couple of songs out of the hymnal before turning the choir over to the worship leader to do more special type music.  I had the chance to be the interim worship leader for a few years, and was proud to sit under Buford's tutelage.  Soon though, Buford's health started fading, and he would sing the same verses twice, and then occasionaly the same song.  It was sad and heartbreaking.  One day Buford came up to me and told me he wasn't going to lead the choir that day, and wanted me to lead all of the songs.  I almost cried.  He never stepped behind the podium again.
     The past few years haven't been very kind to Buford.  Luckily he has some great people watching over him.  The streak is still intact also.  He is still there in Sunday school.  I can honestly say that Buford is one of the few people I have ever looked up to in my life, and one of the rare few that has never wavered.  They never made many like that, and even fewer are around today.  God bless you Buford Fox, you are one of the best.

The Way Back Machine

     My youngest daughter decided this year she wanted to play softball.  She has played soccer a few years, and cheered for football one year, but never showed any interest in softball until this year.  We signed her up.  Little did I know her playing softball was going to put me in the way back machine.
     I actually was going to write a similar post several months ago, but got other things on my mind.  I took her to her practice Tuesday night, and it started bringing back a lot of memories.  The field she was practicing on was the same field that I used to go and watch my niece play on.  That was the first flood of precious memories I got.  I was standing by the fence in the outfield watching the practice, when it hit me that I was standing in the exact same spot my Dad would stand in to watch my niece.   I never remember my dad sitting in the stands, whether watching her, or back in the day watching my brother and I play.  He always stood at the fence.  I am the same way.  I guess I got a lot from my Dad.
     The second thing that hit me was just how long it had been since I had actually played softball.  Back in my younger days, I looked forward to the days when the weather would get warm enough to start practicing.  The way we were back then, that normally meant late February.  It was still cold, but we didn't care, we were ready to play.  I started out playing church league.  Back in the 1980's, church league was a big deal.  Actually, softball all around was huge.  There would be a full church league, and an industrial league.  I played for South Summerville.  We played against Alpine, Four Mile, North Summerville, West 5th Street, Berryton, Summerville 1st, Trion 1st, you name the church, they probably had a team at one point or another.  The industrial league was another world, as all of the local industries sponsored teams.  The Reigel Rifles were the big dogs, and were almost always playing for national titles.
     In church league, our biggest rival was always Four Mile.  We never could seem to get the best of them.  I don't know how many tournaments we played in against them, and always came out on the losing end.  We had some great men playing on our team.  I started out as the bat boy before I was old enough to play, then learned the ropes until I ended up the first baseman.  I remember the guys like it was yesterday.  Arnold Kilgo, Craig Holt, Stan Burrage, Kevin Lee, Thomas Ballenger, Randy Willingham, Gary Woods, Derek Adams, and the late Lamar gravely are the faces that come to mind right now.  Ray Lee, Pat Gaines, and the late Herbert Hale were the coaches through the years.  We had a lot of fun.
     Later on the league started to die out, and South Summerville no longer fielded a team.  Derek Adams and I went to play for North Summerville.  They were great guys, and I made lifelong friends, but it just wasn't the same.  I got a few teams up for tournaments a couple of times after that, but soon the fever died down and I retired.  I played one more game for a friend of mine a few years later, then put my glove up.  I talked to my daughters coach after practice and asked if he needed any help with the team.  He told me he would be glad for me to help.  I guess I will get the glove out again and help teach the next generation.
     Every once in a while I wish I could turn back the clock to those days, and have the old team take the field one more time.  My body has grown older, and the aches and pains don't go away like they used to.  It would be fun to go back and have one more day of playing ball in my youth.  It sure would be fun.

Weighing In On My Weight Loss

     I said when I started my weight loss journey again I was going to be transparent, and take you along every step of the way.  I have to admit, when it came time to make my starting weight public, it was painful.  I was humiliated and ashamed.  My first weigh in I was 310 pounds.  I set several goals for myself.  The first was to lose 40 pounds during the Biggest Loser competition where I work.  That was not my final goal, just the one I was hoping to hit in that time frame.  My second goal was to get below 300 pounds.  I figure I would set goals along the way, so that as I worked towards my long term goals I was hitting short term goals.  Last Friday was my 2 week weight in.
      I knew I had lost some weight.  I had weighed the Friday before, and had lost 5 pounds.  I also knew that when you change your eating, you lose water weight.  I wasn't overly excited about weighing in, as I did not think I would meet my first goal, of being under 300 pounds.  I was anxious Friday morning, waiting until time to step on the scales.  Finally, at 10:00, we got to do the official weigh in.
     The guy that weighed before me is one of my best friends, and he had lost 12 pounds.  I was happy for him, but also thought that I would be disappointed if I had not lost that much.  I took off my boots, cleaned out my pockets, and stepped on the scale. 298 pounds.  I had done it, I had gotten below 300 pounds.  I hope I never see that number again on a scale.
     I am not going to lie and say it has been easy, because it hasn't been.  I like food, and there are times when I feel like I am not going to make it if I don't eat some junk food.  I have found that sooner or later, those cravings pass.  Saturday night I had to go to Chattanooga, and was faced with great temptation.  I was with a party, and they wanted to go to Golden Corral.  That used to be one of my favorite places, and in the old days I could do some damage.
     We went in, and I think I made smart choices.  I am not going to lie and say I didn't give myself a little leeway, but I do think I did well enough under the circumstances.  I ate steak, a couple of very small portions of sweet and sour chicken, and then my vegetables.  I ate a couple of small pieces of meatloaf.  I sat and stared at the chocolate wonderfall, and did not give in.  I did not get anywhere near the sweets.  For the first time ever, I walked out of a Golden Corral not feeling miserable.
     Sunday I did treat myself, and took my family to Steak and Shake.  I had a burger, and fries.  I drank a diet coke.  I'm not going to beat myself up over one meal.  Tonight, I ate a pack on peanut butter M&M's.  That was  the amount of my cheating.  I think I did good.
     Today, Monday, I am back to hardcore dieting for two more weeks.  I have a long way to go, but with God's help, I will get there.  I have no other choice.

Another Day, Another Blessing

     Thursday morning I received another blessing out of the blue.  I was taking a break at work, and decided to check my email, which is something I hardly ever do.  Sometimes I go weeks without checking my mail.  I was scrolling through when one caught my eye, it was from a name I didn't know, but the title was "Your Story Submission To Guideposts."  I had submitted a story to Guideposts a few months ago, but didn't expect to hear anything back about it.  I honestly figured it was a "thank you for your submission but we are not able to use your submission at this time" letter.  Imagine my surprise when I read the message, and it said they wanted to use my story in their Mysterious Ways Newsletter.  The message went on to say for me to contact her as soon as possible.
     I was excited as the morning went on, and during my lunch break I called up my mail again to get the number to call.  I had already received another message wanting more information about the story.  I called the number, and the editor answered.  I told her my name, figuring I would spend about 5 minutes waiting on her to figure out who I was.  Instead, what I got was that she was working on my story as we spoke, and how much she enjoyed it.  She started asking me questions about how everything came about, and exactly what had happened.  I went through the story with her, and she told me she would do an edit on it to clean it up a little, then would email it back to me for approval.  I told her that was great.
     She then told me they would mail me a contract, that I needed to sign and get back to them so they could send me a check.  I knew I heard her wrong, so I asked her what she just said.  She told me they paid for published materials, so not only would I be published, I would be paid.  She didn't know how much, as she handled editing only.  I didn't care.  She then told me my story would be in the Guideposts Mysterious Ways Newsletter and on the Guideposts.org web site on March 28th.
     There are several things about this whole deal that make it extra special for me.  The first is the story itself means so much to me.  It is the story of my daughters miracle baseball.  I have written about it here, and the story actually made the finals of a national contest with Reader's Digest.  It is a true story, and one that means a lot to me.  To know that I have finally been able to share the story with a large audience is amazing.  Secondly, most things that attempt fall short, but this is one time that I am actually going to accomplish something that I set out to do.  I am not a great writer, and I am far from eloquent, but I write from the heart.  I have failed at so many things, it is hard for me to actually believe this is real.
     Finally, I can now officially add to my resume that I am a published, professional author.  It sounds good to me.

An Unexpected Blessing

     I received an unexpected blessing tonight.  These are the best kinds, the kind that comes when you have reached the end of your rope, and you just need a little something to pick you back up.  First, the back story.

     Several years ago I was at home talking to God, when something strange happened to me.  I closed my eyes and saw a friend of mine sitting on a hill.  The more I looked, the more I realized that she was sitting on the hill at the time Jesus fed the multitudes with the five loaves and two fish.  It was as if I was watching it from afar, but it was clear as day.  When it was over, I went to tell my friend about what had happened.

     My friend has written several gospel songs which have been recorded.  I told her about what had happened, and we talked about it.  I told her that I was sure it was something that God had wanted me to give to her, to write a song, or for whatever.  I knew it was for her.  Soon after she told me she had studied the story, and had been given a song.  Several months went by, and we both kind of put it in the back of our minds.

     Later on I happened to think about it when I was talking to her, and asked her about it.  She told me she had almost finished it, but couldn't quite get the completed song done.  I was disappointed, but still didn't think much about it.  A few months later she came up to me at church and told me she had something to tell me.  She had finished the song, and was singing it that morning.  I was thrilled.

     The song was titled "I'm Not Hungry Any More".  It was a beautiful song which talked about not only being fed physically, but spiritually as well.  She sang it a couple of times the next few months, then it just kind of went away.  I hadn't thought about that song in a long time.  My friend now sings with a couple of other people, so I don't see her much any more.  When she told me she had something she needed to tell me, I didn't know what to expect.

     One of the guys she sings with was formerly a part of an up and coming country duo.  They were on the brink of making it big, when this man accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior.  When that happened, he walked away from the burgeoning country career, along with a record contract, to sing only gospel music.  That was his conviction, and he followed it wholeheartedly.  I have heard him sing gospel, and it is obvious he made the right decision.  Anyway, she told me that this man had recently signed to record his first gospel album.  I thought that was great.

     The next thing she told me blew me away.  She said that one day they were practicing, and she told the story to him, and sang the song.  He fell in love with it.  She has started singing the song whenever they sing, and said that the reaction is amazing.  She also said that this song is one of the songs he wanted recorded on his album.  Ain't that something?

     I would not dare take any credit for anything about this song.  I was just in the right place at the right time, and willing to listen.  It still tickles me pink knowing that I had a very small part in something that God is using to bless others.  I'll take my blessings any way I can get them these days.

A Grizzard Nugget

       I have a great affinity for the writings of Lewis Grizzard.  Lewis Grizzard was the Dean of southern humorists in his day, a precursor to Jeff Foxworthy, Bill Engvall, and Larry the Cable Guy.  He wrote a column that was syndicated throughout the U.S., but his home paper was the Atlanta Journal.

     One of my joys in the days he wrote the column was to stop on my way to work and get an Atlanta paper.  The only things I really cared anything about were the sports page, and the Lewis Grizzard column.  It was a daily ritual.  I still remember the day that the news of his death was front page, I remember where I was, and the feelings I had.  I had lost a hero of sorts.

     Soon after, I started collecting books he had written.  I did not become a fan until late in his life, so there was plenty of material for me to read.  I don't know how many books of his I have, I do know there are plenty.  I have read most of them over and over again.  It had been a long time since I had seen a Lewis Grizzard book that I didn't have, until Saturday.

     My family had gone to the local flea market to get a little fresh air and exercise.  Normally, I don't buy things at the flea market, unless it is something I specifically went looking for.  Most of the time, my wife and kids do the looking, and I walk and talk to whomever I run into.  There is a couple that sets up most weeks that sells books, and I had looked through their books several times not finding anything.  I decided to glance through as I walked by, just to see if they had anything interesting.

    I walked past the boxes and could tell that most of the books were not anything that would interest me.  I am not a big fiction fan, and political book bore me to tears.  I was almost to the final box when I saw it.  A Lewis Grizzard book!  I was still not too excited as I was sure it was one already in my collection, but was pleasantly surprised when I did not recognize the title.  It was "The Last Bus To Albuquerque", and I didn't have it.  It was a hardback book, and I had no idea what the going price was, so I asked.  Two dollars was the answer.  I didn't hesitate.

     The book was written and put together after he died by his friends.  The first chapter of the book was memories of Lewis written by his friends, then the remainder was a collection of his columns that were written in his final years.  It was two of the best dollars I have ever spent.  I have already read the first two chapters, but am intentionally reading only a few pages at a time.  I can go through a book like that in no time, but this is one that I want to savor.

     I do know that the final entry in the book is the final column Lewis wrote before he died.  I don't look forward to reading that.  I found a gold nugget Saturday, I want to treasure it as long as I can.

      

Put Your Hands Together, Or Not

     Something has bothered me for a long time, and I think it is time to put it out there and find out others opinions on the matter.  It's not anything that is  physically wrong with me, or anything like that, but rather what I am starting to think is a belief that only I hold.  To get to the root of the issue, we have to go way back.
     When I was a kid, I went to a very conservative Baptist Church.  The people there were people of great faith, but it was a church where you went in, sat down, and stayed quiet.  I cannot remember one time when anybody had a shouting fit, and to be honest about it, I cant really remember very many amen's.  That just wasn't the way that things were done there.  Like I said, there were, and still are people of great faith there, every church is different.
     After I came home from college I felt like this church was not the church for me, and through the years I have been a member of several different churches.  Some were like that one, others were more, for lack of a better word, free.  The church I attend now sits in the middle, it is not Pentecostal, but there are times when shouting happens, and amen's are bountiful.  Some people in the church say it is a Bapti-costal church.  Sounds good to me.
     Anyway, now that I have rambled for a while, I guess I could go ahead and get to the point.  My issue is, when people sing in church, I, me, myself personally, feel uncomfortable clapping when they finish.  I'm not talking about clapping along with the song, but after they finish.  To me if I do that, and this is just my belief, I am applauding the performance.  Singing in church should not be about the performance, but about the message.  I am alone in the wilderness on this issue.
     You see, I honestly do not remember people in church clapping like that when I was young.  Maybe they did, and my memory has just gone haywire, but to me it has always felt uncomfortable.  If I go to a concert like I did recently, I have no such hesitation applauding, because I understand in that situation it is part performance.  Church is a different thing to me.  Even when groups come to the church to sing, I feel uncomfortable applauding.
     Maybe this is just some strange hang-up with me.  I really don't know.

Losing Face

     I promised to keep everyone updated on my weight loss journey, good or bad.  Last week I started off with the bad, really bad.  My beginning weight, sad to say, was 310 pounds.  The way our biggest loser competition is supposed to work, we weigh in every two weeks, which would make my next weigh in Friday.
     I told myself I was going to change my eating habits, and start exercising.  I was not, or so I told myself, going to obsess over my weight.  I was going to weigh in once every two weeks and that was it.  That's what I told myself anyway.
     As for the changes, I am writing this on Saturday night, and I can honestly say that I have not had any bread since Sunday, have eaten a farm full of grilled chicken and turkey, and probably a full garden of salad.  Heck, I even ate a good bit of celery.  I actually feel pretty good right now.  That hasn't been the case all week, as to be honest Wednesday and Thursday I felt awful, enough that I seriously thought about quitting again.  Thankfully I got over that hump.
     I am convinced that somewhere there is a dry lake from all of the water I have drank, and I even drank 4 cups of black coffee this morning.  I did not have my first diet coke until noon, which is some kind of record.  I have carried a bottle of water around with me all day today instead of my normal diet coke.  I am kind of proud of that.  Today I jumped a big hurdle.  I have kids, and one of the things that is almost unavoidable with kids is McDonald's.  My wife had a business meeting today, and it was convenient for her and the person she was meeting to get together there.  We took the kids and off we went.  I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't want my normal two double cheeseburgers and large fries, but that is not what I ate.  I actually got a grilled chicken salad, and enjoyed it.  Tonight I gave in just a little and had two grilled chicken wraps. The tortillas were honestly the first food of that type I have had all week.  I think I deserved it.
     Tomorrow is going to be another challenge, as I truly liked having my biscuits and gravy on Sunday morning, along with my cinnamon rolls.  I also like going out to eat after church, stuffing myself, than going home and taking a nap.  I will make it though, somehow.
     Now on to the main event of the story.  I was getting a little worried Thursday night, as I honestly felt like I had gained weight during the week.  I knew that my face looked a little thinner, but my clothes actually felt tighter.  I got to work Friday, and made it until about 10:30.  I couldn't stand it any longer.  I went to the scales, and jumped on.  The scale said 305 pounds.  I had lost 5 pounds.  That's a good start.
     I am really hoping that by Friday I am below 300 pounds for the final time in my life.  I never, ever, want to be that big again.  If I don't make it, I will be disappointed, but I will get it the next go around.  I'm in this for the long haul this time, and their ain't no going back.