Celebrate - Remember - Fight Back

I'm not a fan of live sports events, but this was one I was not going to miss.

Being "sedentarily-challenged", I was determined to do at least one lap. There were hundreds of us in purple Survivor shirts amassed on the track at Lowery Field in Lubbock, Texas, joined by lime-green clad Caregiver and White shirt family and friend supporters for the opening Victory Lap.

Honestly, I was not prepared for feelings of overwhelming support from a community who lined the infield and applauded as we circled the track in celebration of our personal struggle over the second-leading cause of death in the United states. As we walked, clutching the hands of our care-givers, we were reminded of how merciful God had been to us. At the feet of those who clapped for us, were Luminaries that would be lighted that evening, each with name of someone who had succumbed to cancer.

I had heard about the Relay for Life for many years and knew it was the American Cancer Society's main fundraising event designed to unite those affected by cancer, while raising money for the organization's research, education and advocacy efforts. Frankly, I wasn't interested. Didn't have time for it.

But life and reality have a way of intervening. My wife's father is a seven year survivor of bladder cancer and I am going on my second year being cancer free from prostate cancer. However, God in his wisdom, chose to take my mother-in-law last November with stomach cancer. This was our year to Celebrate . . . And Remember.

Yet, I am keenly aware that there are those who read this who have lost loved ones or are struggling with this ravenous malady. Thus, the Fight Back. That is why we walked the laps . . . For you . . . Even though we may never meet. We will keep walking for you.

Our little from Lubbock, joins the other Relays from around the nation, to help the American Cancer Society fund more than $120 million in cancer research.

I came away from my first Relay with three indelible impressions. As I looked at the sea of purple Survivors around me, I was struck with how this dreaded disease is no respecter of age, sex, or race. The number of children and youth were in no less proportion to middle age and the mature.

Secondly, the age span of lime-green clad Caregivers was no less divers than that of the survivors. There were children and husbands surrounding their purple-shirt mothers. Elderly couples surrounded their purple-shirt young adults.

Thirdly, the purpose found in a second chance at life. The purple shirt made it easy to strike up a conversation. Each survivor seemed to have their own story of hope. Some had started up new occupations or tried challenges a previous "safe" pre-cancer life would have never considered.

My favorite conversation was with the Toy Doctor, a nine-year survivor over prostate cancer. Previously an engineer, he is now confined to a wheel chair. However, this Doc brings a great deal of joy into the lives of children in Lubbock hospitals. Using his skill with a Dremel and blocks of wood, he takes a picture of someone's pet and turns it into a 3-D toy.

To me he epitomized what the Relay for Life was all about. . .

Celebrate

Remember

FIGHT BACK!

Barns, Secrets And Old Houses

I come from country roots, as close to an educated redneck as one can get. I love the modern, contemporary Gospel music, but there will always be a part of me who loves the country gospel music of my youth.

One such song was "This Old House," penned by the composer of "It Is No Secret What God Can Do." This blog space is too small to do justice to the stories behind those Gospel hymns, but suffice to say, the first was composed following a hunting trip in the mountains of northern California. When the author and a hunting companion discovered the remains of an elderly man in his old cabin, the poet saw similarities between the two.

Originally sung slow and reverently, Patty Page recorded "This Old House" as a toe-tapping tune that has made it immortal in the annals of Gospel Music.

The following Perspective on Old Barns reminded me of that song and I wanted to pass it along to my readers. (The older I get, the more like these old barns I get.)

A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.

Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too ... and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard weather of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce.

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away. I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.

And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.

May there be peace within you today.May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.

Smack Dab In the Middle

I don't really on consider myself a "control freak." I pretty much allow the people I work and worship with to be themselves. I can't really change the way family members relate and respond to each other.

And yet, I like to think that I'm "in control;" that I have some sort of say-so in my life. That changed a few days ago; not only was I NOT in control, but I had to turn my life over to others.

Country music artist Carrie Underwood sings it so well on her Some Hearts album.

She didn't even have time to cry
She was sooo scared
She threw her hands up in the air
Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this all on my own
I'm letting go...
Jesus take the wheel.

From the moment my car started to fishtail, I knew I was not in control.

When the car began to roll and the sound of twisting metal pounding the roadway filled my ears, I knew I was not in control.

Sitting in the bone chilling cold, waiting for help to arrive, I knew I was not in control.

In a matter of seconds, control of my life had shifted to others:

The five "angels" -- young men who stopped to be with me until EMTs arrived.

The paramedics who made sure I was stable until I reached the hospital.

The emergency room staff, who worked efficiently but with sensitivity to my trauma.

The ER doctor who made it a point to comfort my family and point out another medical concern not related to the accident.

My family who has waited on me hand and foot while enduring my complaints about slow healing injuries.

I pride myself at being a low maintenance, self-sufficient person. Losing control of your everyday life is a humbling experience. It’s normal to wonder where is God in all of this. Maybe the operative word is "pride". . . Or perhaps "self-sufficiency."

I recently read about Frank Silecchia, one of volunteers searching the wreckage of the World Trade Center for survivors. This particular morning he hoped would be different; past days had yielded forty-seven victims, none of them alive.

However he would stumble upon a symbol destined to be seared into America's memory--a twenty-foot tall steel-beam cross. The collapse of Tower One on Building Six merged to gigantic beams. When one crashed into the another, the two girders bonded into one, forged by fire. Other crosses rested randomly at the base of large one; different sizes, different angles, but all crosses.


As a stunned America struggled with "Where is God in all of this?," the beams emerged from the rubble to say "I am right here in the middle of it all."

Could God have prevented 911 from occurring? Absolutely! But since World War, Americans have been pretty cocky and believe we are in control of our own destiny.

Could God have kept my car from rolling? Absolutely! But I am re-learning the lesson of dependency on Him and the people He has placed in my life.

As I stumble through the rubble of mistakes and misfortunes in my life, I am reminded that He is smack-dab in the middle of who I am, what I am, and where I am going.

Admitting I'm not in control is not such a scary thing after all.

Most Important Moment of My Life

I love the song from the Broadway musical "RENT" which most people consider the theme song. It's actually entitled Seasons of Love.

525,600 minutes, 525,600 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525, 60 minutes - a year in the life?
525,600 minutes, 525,600 journeys to plan.
525,600 minutes, how do you measure the life of a woman or man.

The older I get, (and I still think I'm a spring chicken at 57) the more I appreciate the fast moving minutes of my life. Having "semi-retired," I'm not quite as career-driven as I once was. I now know more about what I don't to do in my life as what I want to accomplish. I have been so blessed having worked in the worlds of television, radio, theater, and some film production over the last 30 years.

(Oh, my! I'm starting to sound like one of those "when I was a kid we didn't have TV in color.")

Earlier this year, I survived a bout with the big "C." Cancer has a way of putting you life on pause while you re-evaluate your priorities. Most days I treasure the early minutes of my morning. I allow myself to enjoy the view out my front window while my feline princess sits in my lap being worshipped. I sip my Starbucks (home brewed) coffee and do a little inspirational and fun reading. I get to think of and pray for my friends. I get to savor the moment.

Just last week I survived a multi-rollover in my 1990 Bronco which I should not have walked away from. One gusty west-Texas wind on an ice slick interstate litterally flipped my daily routine upside down.

One of the life events took weeks to adjust to, the most recent has rudely interrupted life with bruises and pain and immediate alterations to even the most simple things like sitting up, bathing at scratching your own nose.

Fact is, under normal situations, I can get antsy if I have unstructured time on my hands. I take my reading material to high school football games. I carry more than enough research material that I could possibly deal with in 3X the times I am away from home. I NEED to keep my mind busy. It's not because I can't handle the silence. I do enjoy those time where my attention is not under demand.

But I do love the engagement of my mind and imagination. I hate wasting time. That's why most sports bore me. It takes too long, play to play, inning to inning. Now reading -- my mind has to keep painting and repainting the scenes around the characters. And movies, give me plot, plot, plot (as well as plenty of action.) And it doesn't hurt that I can live another life and time through the characters.

When I was a boy, "just a minute" seemed to take FOREVER. Now 60 seconds has become jet propelled, approaching the speed of light. There isn't much I can do to change the moment past. And reality is, especially after the events of this week, I don't know if I am promised the next one.

Out of the 525,600 minutes of this year, I've decided that THIS moment is the Most Important Moment of all. I entend to enjoy this moment, and those that follow to the fullest.

In A Moment, Blink of An Eye

In an Instant, In the Blink of an Eye

It can happen in an instant, . . . In the blink of an eye, . . . And life can take an unexpected turn.

Some people are said to live lives of quiet desperation. Not me. One good gust of wind and I am reminded how much I am loved and love those around me, even total strangers.

I was driving home from an assignment with Whirlwind Tours in Midland, Texas. It was 2:30 AM and I was eastbound on I-20. The roadway had just begun to ice from the cold front that swept through the area.

Suddenly a blast of wind hit the driver's side of my Bronco, causing it to fish-tail. I corrected, but it wasn't enough and after it crossed and recrossed the inside lane I knew it was going to roll.

Roller coasters and thrill rides have never been enjoyable to me. I have no curiosity strong enough for me to keep my eyes open. I prayed, a very simple prayer, "Oh, Jesus help me, help me."

And He did! I can't tell you whether it rolled two or three times, but it stopped upright in the center median. The passenger window was gone, the rear hatch back torn off. The driver's seat was broken but I was firmly held by seat belt. And the dome light was on.

Five wonderful young men stopped to help me. The things inside by car had been thrown completely clear of the vehicle. Clothing, tool box, travel bags, even my computer had become projectiles leaving a flipping ship.

Amazingly I never hit my head or lost consciousness. I was lucid and clear-headed if not a little addled.

Arriving at Scenic Mountain Medical Center I was x-rayed head-to-toe, with special attention paid to my left elbow, forearm and wrist which had begun throb with pain. Nothing came back fractured. It is thought that a nerve in my elbow has been bruised and will take some time to heal. With a shoulder sling, I was sent home and told to wait till the soreness subsides before going back to work.

This "unexpected vacation" from my normal activities has caused me to appreciate the people in my life. Not just family who are here by my side, but all who have written and called to express their concern and love.

In the vast scheme of things, this accident will probably be just a blip on the radar of life, but it is a reminder that a detour can happen in a moment, in a blink of the eye. It's good to know I'm not alone; That there are "angels" of all kinds, dressed as family, paramedics, policemen and hospital worker. How very blessed I am.