STAYING AFLOAT

WORD FOR THE DAY: Popcorn Tins

2011-12-23T22:03:00.000-06:00

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests. Luke 2: 14

While I am not sure where exactly the tradition of the decorative tin (AKA 5 Gallon Bucket) full of popcorn was entered into the Christmas "Must-Have" List; I, for one, am ever so grateful it did. Some of my fondest childhood memories are about those tins and popcorn. While I am not sure just how our family accumulated a vast number of the Currier and Ives buckets; as long as I can remember, our family Christmas decoration, lights included, were stored in those tins. Each tin has a special content, although it was never labeled, but it was just a known fact. The largest of tins always contained the Christmas lights. Now this was back in the day before pre-lit Christmas trees and dainty strands of 200 white lights. These were real Christmas lights. The kind that came no more than 2 dozen per strand because to put any more on one strand was in likelihood to trip a breaker. And these were not some minuscule pop-in light bulbs,but the old fashioned kind that actually screwed in light a real bulbs. They only came in primary colors at Christmas, the the white ones were available year around since they also doubled in electric chandeliers and night lights. Looking above me now at the chandelier above our dining room table, I think about how sad these bulbs must be because they only got to light dinners. I think it was undoubtedly the aspiration of all bulbs of that size to one day be tree bulbs. Perhaps I should write a story about the little bulb that wanted a tree.

Anyway, in addition to the herculean colored bulbs we also had two strands of the coveted bubble lights. These were precious all those years ago. They are practically legendary now. We only had two strands and only my Mom could put those out. I remember having it drilled into my head that to touch those bulbs meant tragedy. They would either burn your fingers beyond recognition or would explode due to the oil in your finger tips and catch the tree on fire, which would then result in burning down the house. And Santa never, ever, came to see children who torched their houses because they could not keep their grubby hands off of the bubble lights. For some reason it never dawned on me that my mother touched them all over, but I guess that was part of those special magical powers that mother's have, like the ability to see out of the back of their head; and know of misbehavior from across town. When I was older, before we got one of the fancy department store Christmas trees (trees with white lights and themed decorations...much like the tree in my foyer), I was allowed to gently thump any of the bubble lights that were not bubbling. When I was finally allowed this privilege, I was ever so vigilant. Part of it was the novelty of getting to touch the sacred strands, even with my fingernail. The other part was that I believed if the light went without bubbling, the pressure would build up and explode, thus catching the tree on fire and it would be all my fault.

But back to the popcorn tins. I am not sure where they came from, but I do remember that both of our neighbors always gave them to use kids at Christmas. On one side of my house was Daddy John and Mommee. Their real names were John and Faye Skelton, but we were part of the family, so no such formality for us. Most of my Sundays growing up, when not at my grandparents farm, we were always at Momee's for coffee and cake. As was 1/2 of the town, but they are another blog all to themselves.

On the other side was the Bellipannis, Mr. Domino and Mrs. Chetta. These were the folks we dined with at some point ever holiday where mom made the "redneck" cornbread dressing, while they had the Oyster Dressing, that I still crave every holiday. But again, another blog.

But other than the neighbors, I don't remember who else gave us popcorn tins. But then we also bought them for ourselves. Back in the day when Shopping Malls were king, the Greenville Mall was the destination for folks in Indianola. And back before chain restaurants and fancy food courts, malls had snack counters. The Greenville Mall snack counter was the source of the very best in popcorn goodness. Whenever we were shopping, popcorn was always the most requested treat, and bribe for trying on multiple pairs of husky jeans at Sears. I still hate trying on clothes. The snack counter also sold candy, pretzels, drinks, nachos and hot dogs; but the real star was the popcorn. A whole glass fronted counter was dedicated to the delicacy. Huge glass cases of golden butter and bronze caramel and bright orange cheesiness where a kids jewelry store. And then there was the one, stand along, table top case that held the golden fleece of popcorn....taco popcorn. I know, just typing that brings me both to revulsion and to heights of ecstasy. When something is that good, it doesn't have to make sense. And whenever we got a popcorn tin, the taco was always the special requests, and always ended up being the smallest portion of the tin. You know what I am talking about. Three types of popcorn means half caramel corn with some buttery and cheesy quarters.

Anyway, now the popcorn tins are filled with factory made popcorn, individually sealed in bags. No more cardboard dividers. No more surprise mixtures at the bottom of the can. No more angst over accidentally removing the divider and mixing the flavors (although I had a classmate who used to do that to his popcorn tins...he also ate paste and stashed his leftover lunches in his desk...I think he is a Microsoft exec now).

This past week, we got a popcorn tin. But factories and mass production have changed it. It is just not the same. But every time I see those bad Currier and Ives prints on a can, I get a little nostalgic, which makes me happy. The older I get (and now that all my money goes to my kids) the less Christmas becomes about presents for me, but more about memories. Not just the memories I am making with my kids, but making sure to find small ways to make my memories a part of their lives. So tomorrow night, before we head to bed in the hopes the Santa finds his way to Eupora, we are gonna crack open the popcorn tin and I am gonna tell them about the days when Taco Popcorn was King.

MERRY (MEMORABLE) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Fruitcake

2011-12-21T14:21:00.001-06:00

"Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." Matthew 18: 21-22

Today, I am thankful for Fruitcake. I know right now the great majority of you are wretching silently (or perhaps not). If Christmas had an ugly step sister, it would be Fruitcake. Always there and always maligned. Believe me, I used to be one of the ranks of the faithful who believe that Fruitcake is a blot on the family of Cake. And while I still admit that I have issues (which I will gladly share), I am now a converted believer that the ugly ducking of the Christmas table can indeed become a swan. (Now that you are all on the edge of your seats...)

I have a long and interesting history with Fruitcake. Back in the golden decade that was the 80's (isn't that what all the Ronald Reagan wanna-be presidential candidates call it?) my mother was part of a wonderful organization called B&PW or Business and Professional Women. According to their website( I had to see if it even still existed) this organization has been on the forefront of lobbying for equality in the workplace. All I knew is that they sold fruitcake...at least in the 80's. Although a search of the B&PW website shows no reference to the illustrious cake. And a Google search only told me that in 2007 the Cumberland County TN Club did sell fruitcakes in November and December. So I guess some of those brown boxed cakes are still floating around form the Reagan-era, after all. We all know the truth that Fruitcake, roaches and styrofoam will outlast us all.

Anyway, my Mom (who later passed down the annoying trait of over-commitment to her children) was somehow in charge of the Fruitcake sell or something when I was about 7 or 8, so I got chosen to be the "poster child for Fruitcake" in the Enterprise Tocsin (Indianola, MS weekly newspaper). Actually, one of the clippings of this picture actually resurfaced recently at a family reunion and if I can find it again, I might just post it on here.

The picture is a cotton-blond, curly headed (people actually thought my Mom gave me permanents) pleasantly plump (Sears and Roebuck Husky was my friend) cutie surrounded by boxes of the horrid substance with a handful of cake in each hand, grinning as if for all the world this was the best part of Christmas. And you're wondering why I later majored in Theatre? It was in my blood to help people suspend reality by acting. Anyway, not that I am taking full credit for the HUGE success that was the Fruitcake sell that year, but I would like to point out that it was a record year. And hey, I would buy the vile loaf substance from that cutie in a heartbeat!

So, my connection (and aversion) to fruitcake has a long history. But other than my short jaunt as the face of Fruitcake, I have been able to stay clear of this Grinch of Christmas desserts. There are so many things wrong with Fruitcake. For starters, I don't understand the consistency. Its not quite cake, its not quite sponge, but some strange metamorphosis of the two. Second, it does last forever. Other than the Frosty at Wendys ( I know it is petro and I am ok with it) anything with that much preservative does not need to be in me. Third, green candied cherries. What is wrong with red, the way God intended? And who was the color-blind genius (I use the word in sarcasm) that said, hey, lets make candied cherries the incandescent green color of the slime from Ghostbusters? (if you are old enough to get that reference...I love you!) Finally, there is just too much in it. I like cake. Believe me, I LOVE cake. But you know that cake has to be gross when the maker has to pack it so full of candied plastic fruits and reject pecan pieces that there is no room for actual cake.

So I was pretty content to enjoy my holidays, sans Fruitcake, until this year. A dear friend baked me a small fruitcake bundt. It was perfectly palm-sized, and before I had a chance to realize it was Fruitcake, I had unwrapped it and the smell was AMAZING. It was like grandmother's kitchen and hugs and happiness all rolled up into a single smell. And then the taste...perfection. The disco-green candied cherries where even good because the actual cake part was so amazing. If Jesus were to offer redemption to the Fruitcake world, this would be the result.

Which got me to thinking (a dangerous pastime, I know). Christmas should be a time of second (or 15th) chances. Remember in A Christmas Carol how nephew Fred never gave up on inviting Scrooge to Christmas dinner? Christmas is a time when we celebrate God's love. And you can't truly celebrate God's love without experiencing and extending grace and forgiveness. That is my lesson of the fruitcake. Everything and everyone deserves another chance at Christmas. And if it fails, luckily for us, Christmas comes around every year. So who (or what) are the Fruitcakes in your life, and why not make a place at the table for them this year? (If not, remember, Fruitcake never goes away!)

MERRY (GRACE-FILLED) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Santa

2011-12-16T20:54:00.000-06:00

"Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge."
Proverbs 14: 26

Hard to believe it is just a little over a week until Christmas. When I was kid, I would be going out of my way to be perfect in every way (not that this was out of character for a golden child like myself) because I knew, deep in my core, that my haul on Christmas morning was directly related to my behavior prior. I also knew, with the same certainty, that good behavior in December was exponentially more valuable that previous months. A good December could cover a lot of mediocre months before.

I guess all children have drilled in them the correlation between good behavior and Santa's charity. I mean, for starters, we sing it every year as gospel. Just as we proudly proclaim the eternal truth that Christ was born, "Away in a Manger," so do we also proclaim our reality that "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town."

According to Wikipedia, source of all internet knowledge of a questionable nature, this great song was written by John Frederick Coots and Haven Gillespie. While I am sure a google search of these men would reveal all sorts of interesting facts, the only thing I need to know, I can surmise by their talent. They were parents. Only parents who understand the frustration of raising children, cracked out on the candy and spirit of the holiday, would right a song that included lyrics that say "you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout" and "he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake."

And for generations, Santa has been the pillowed rod of discipline that has kept countless boys and girls in line, at least for a few weeks prior to the holiday. That is, until my children's generation ventured upon the scene. They, while as dedicated to the Jolly Old Elf as their ancestors, have a much more grace-filled understanding of how things work. In part, I blame us parents. Having, at earlier ages, been worn down by the rigors of adult life and the unrealistic parenting expectation championed by Oprah; we, as their parents, surrender much more easier to the whims and moods of our children. I will be the first the admit that my family is often held hostage to the mood swings of our two year old. He scares the living daylights out of us.

I also hold grandparents responsible for the decrease in Santa's authority. For many children, any day with a grandparent is Christmas. You grandparents out there know who you are. You are the one who think no trip to grandma's house is complete without a trip to Dollar General or Walmart. Who needs Santa's loot when you can play the grandparent card whenever it is needed?

I also think that we as a society are more lenient when it comes to behavior. Back a few years ago, someone tried to resurrect Santa's Behavior power with this cute little "Elf on a Shelf." If you are unfamiliar, please crawl from under your rock for a moment and I will give you the 411. You spend a ridiculous amount of money for an "elf" and the book that tells you that this elf, once named, will magically come to life and report to Santa your bahavior every night. Of course your can't touch him, and he can't move when you are looking. Its part of the magic code or something. We have Jolly. I am pretty sure one of the grandparents got him for us. Jolly comes out every Christmas and sits at very places around the house (when he does not get too comfortable..aka forgotten) and at night reports to Santa about my kids. In theory, this will enforce the "bad or good" doctrine, but in essence it becomes one more thing for my tired mind to remember and a fun "hunt" when he changes location. Impact on the behavior - ZILCH! Impact on my overtaxed mind - oh yeah.

Finally, I think our children are just too smart for their own good. Tonight before I yelled (oops, I mean SENT) my children off to bed, I point blank asked the question, "So why are you guys not worried about Santa and your behavior?" Lucy responded, "I am always good." Is it a lie, if you truly believe what you are saying? Josh responded that "there is a difference between being naughty and getting in trouble. What he is doing is not naughty, necessarily." I am thinking JOSHUA HARPER FOR PRESIDENT 2038? John's response was my favorite, "Daddy, Santa is like Jesus. He always forgives." Spoken like a true preacher's kid; when all else fails, answer "Jesus."

But whatever the reason; whether Santa is strict disciplinarian or overly merciful old guy; the truth of Santa never changes. Santa comes and gives, not because we deserve it, but because Santa loves. And love is what Christmas is all about.

Wishing you all a MERRY (GOOD FOR GOODNESS SAKE) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Field Trips

2011-12-15T11:40:00.000-06:00

“Who am I, LORD God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?"
I Chronicles 17:16

I get to be "Stay-At-Home" Dad today. Heather has gone with Lucy on her field trip to see Disney on Ice in Tupelo, so me and the Ben-meister are hanging today. So that means we are gonna soon head to The Bent Can (the finest that bent and dent has to offer) and then to the grocery, that we affectionately call the Super-lu. (For you non Euporians, it is the Super-Valu, but once a few years back the V and the A in the sign were out, thus is became the Super-lu). Heather is making homemade chocolate pies for Christmas presents and we need to pick up a few extra things since our kiddos will soon be our responsibility to feed 24/7 during the holidays. And believe me, two 9 yr old boys are hard to fill-up. Actually, we are thinking of getting a cow..but that is another blog.

Anyway, back to my point about field trips. Going to see Disney on Ice is a pretty standard 1st grade field trip at EES. Our boys did it and now it is Lucy's turn. But the part I have not yet figured out is exactly what is the educational value in said trip to see Cinderella in skates. I mean, I am all for introducing kids to new things. And I am sure for lots of the kids that will be going, this is truly a once in a lifetime experience. And maybe that is the point. To expose kids to art and experiences that they might not otherwise have. I can work with that. After all, I was a theatre major.

But back in the day (I love saying that...makes what is about to come sound so wise and ancient) when I was in elementary school, field trips always had an educational purpose. Thus, with a few exceptions, they were all very forgettable. I know we took a trip to a vineyard one time. And hey, wine making can be scientific. But I think that field trip was either motivated by the fact that a classmate's family owned it, or that it was the Delta where drinking is heritage. But other than going, I really don't remember much about it. I guess it must have been educational after all.

The few field trips I do remember, while educational were also cool as heck. In the 6th grade we went to Huntsville, AL to the Space Center. That was awesome, but what I remember most about the trip was getting virgin strawberry daiquiris and watching Nightmare on Elm Street "55" in the hotel ballroom because there had been noise complaints on our floor. What do you expect with 100 6th graders...I say poor planning on the hotels part. The only other field trip I remember is going to Florewood Plantation in Greenwood. It was one of those interpretive centers where people in costume take you around a life like plantation. But the only think I remember about it was the Christmas tree with candles and how scared my Mom would have been because she was one to worry about our bubble lights catching the tree on fire. (BTW, anyone who can tell me where to buy bubble lights, it would be greatly appreciated).

But by far, the most memorable field trip I ever took was educational, but what made it extra awesome was that is was not with the school, but with my Dad. When I was about John and Josh's age, my Dad took me to the Civil War Battlefield Park in Vicksburg, MS. We spent the whole day stopping at every monument and reading every sign. Now having taken my own kids to the same park a few years back, I realize just how horribly tedious stopping at every single monument had to have been for my Dad, but I never knew it. All I remember was that it was one of the best trips ever. And I may have actually learned something in the process. Maybe not necessarily about the Civil War, but about the importance of time with family.

So maybe Sneezy on Ice isn't very educational, but the fact that Lucy gets to enjoy it with her Mom will undoubtedly make it a time to remember. And even though The Bent Can does not have cannons or a battleship, but maybe because its just me and Ben, it might just make it in the top twenty-five trips of his life. Well, if I throw in McDonald's I know it will.

Wishing you all a MERRY (FAMILY FILLED AND MEMORABLE) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Mouse

2011-12-14T12:08:00.000-06:00

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Luke 1: 38

Our Directv is trying to quit on us. And believe me, that is not acceptable. For the last several months we have had problems with channels freezing, or not coming in clearly all the time. But Monday morning, we finally reached the breaking point. Benjamin had spoken.

You see, Benny is an avid fan of THE MOUSE. Most of you reading this have no need to ask "What mouse?" Like Cher, there is no need for any other name or description. There is only one who is THE MOUSE. Anyway, part of Benny's leisurely morning routine is watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Disney. It is usually on about the time he decides to extricate himself from "his" King-sized Bed that he so graciously shares with his parents. He gets up and watches Mouse, followed by Neverland Pirates and then an additional episode of the Big Cheese. Now if Mouse happens to be in re-run, Benny might stop and demand his breakfast of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in his Wiggles Bowl with milk and his Cars spoon. Or if Heather has the coffee made, then he expects his "Foffee" in his Cars cup. Woe be unto our family if any of the above mentioned utensils are dirty. Woe be it unto our family if his older siblings finished off the milk and/or Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Basically, woe be it unto our family if anything is not just as he likes it. Which brings us back to Monday.

When Master Benny awoke for his morning dose of the Mickster, the only Disney Channel that was showing Clubhouse (of the 500 Disney channels I think I pay for...and please note that we pay for the larger package not because of adult viewing but because of kid shows...what ever happened to "seen but not heard"..ahh, the good old days) was one of the channels that was not working. This, my friends, much like the Mayan prophecy for 12/21/12 was the END OF THE WORLD! First came the disbelief, then the anger, then the crying, then the banshee caliber wailing and gnashing of teeth. This promptly sent Heather to the phone to call Directv and tell them something must be done.

So next Wednesday, between 8am and Noon, (translation: sometime within 48 hours of our supposed arrival if the weather cooperates and you are blameless in all your ways before God who directs the path of the Directv man) all will be made well in the Harper house and THE MOUSE can once again sooth the savage beast that is the 2 yr old son of my wife.

But if we are honest with ourselves, there are times when we are just as bad. All of us like our routines. We like our stuff in its place. We like people to do the things they are supposed to do when they are supposed to do them. We like knowing what is going to happen. We live pretending we are masters of our world.

For me, that is one of the lessons of Christmas. We must learn to celebrate the unexpected. Mary and Joseph sure never expected all that God had in store for their lives. But, as far as the Scripture records, they learned to go with the flow of God's Spirit and celebrate the unexpected blessings of God.

May your life be filled with blessings both expected and surprising; and may you be open to celebrate them all.

MERRY (Surprising) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Noise

2011-12-13T09:42:00.000-06:00

OK, I actually got the "word" thing right today. My word for the day is noise. Although this is a common enough description of my house, I am talking about a special noise. This morning, about 2:30AM, I got the wake-up that universally belongs to Dads..."I hear a strange noise." Somehow only Dads are equipped with the super powers necessary to combat strange noises in the night. Not sure what that is about, or how it became, like taking out the trash, a job for those of us with the Y chromosome; but nevertheless, the call came and Dad had to leave the comfort of a warm bed to make it all better.

Now I am use to being woken up by Lucy in the night. When she was first diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, we pretty much did blood sugar checks around the clock. Actually, my blasted internal alarm clock still wakes me up at midnight and 3am for no reason whatsoever. Digressing for a moment about internal alarm clocks. I use to think that they belonged only to old men and infants. Now I have been proven wrong. (Keep the old jokes to yourself...still under 40 so still a 'young preacher.') Anyway, so being awoken by Lucy was not the issue. Usually she comes and wakes me up and tell me that I am supposed to be in her room sleeping. This is another by-product of 'round the clock' blood sugar checks. I basically moved in to Lucy's room so not to disturb Heather and Ben, who was more than willing to take over my sliver of the King Size bed...but that is another story.

So I get up and follow her to investigate the noise. First we stop in her room and check blood sugar. Sometimes her middle of the night awakenings are a results of falling numbers, so we checked and she was almost perfect. So we set out for the darkened playroom to discover what was making the noise. At first, as I turned on the blinding light in the playroom, I heard nothing. So I waited. Still nothing. About this time I am convinced that maybe it was our useless, stray, Jezebel of a cat that we feed, making noise outside. But then I heard it. This strange sound that was a combination of 'laser guns meets Gregorian Chant." What the HEY?!?

So I begin the search, looking through the bins and piles for the culprit. But just as I felt that I was getting close, the sound would stop. So I would wait. Then it would sound again, but in a seemingly different place. After about 5 minutes of frustration, and silent expletives; my sweet, precious, angel girl decides to at last volunteer that it is Ben's firetruck making the noise. So I do what all rational Dads do...I removed the batteries so that is may never chant again.

As Lucy and I were getting in the bed, I asked her, "Sweetie, why did you not tell Daddy it was the firetruck to begin with." She smiled sleepily, in that way that makes all Daddies despise the worthless fools who will one day carry away our princesses, and said, "Daddy, you didn't ask." Who can argue with that?

In the Christmas carol, "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" (which our Praise Team rocks, BTW) verse 3 says "Yet with the woes of sin and strife

The world has suffered long;

Beneath the angel strain have rolled

Two thousand years of wrong;

And man, at war with man, hears not

The love-song which they bring;

O hush the noise, ye men of strife

And hear the angels sing."

Our lives are full of noise. Some of it bumps in the night. Most of it of our own creating. But nevertheless, the noise of our lives and the busyness of the holidays will often drown out the 'tidings of great joy' that God has for us. Maybe she should all stop, and ask God to help us quiet the noise of life, so that we can hear the angel's sing. I understand that it is quite the song. MERRY (QUIET) CHRISTMAS!

WORD FOR THE DAY: Mississippi State

2011-12-12T22:09:00.000-06:00

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." John 15:13

OK, actually Mississippi State is two words, but it is one idea, so that has to count as one. I know right now those of you who support that great northern institute of higher education in Oxford; or those who are faithful to that "much under-appreciated but oh so superior" bastion of education in Hattiesburg are all cringing right now, but hang with me. I promise it will be worth the trip. If not, sorry for the 5 minutes of your life you will never get back.

Anyway, the word that is coming to my mind right now as I sit at my desk is MS STATE, and this is why. Today I bid farewell to a true one of a kind individual whom I had the honor of serving as pastor, but for whom I had the gift of calling friend. For those that new Mr. Hugh Lee Kilpatrick, loved him. For those that never did, you life is much the poorer. Hugh Lee is one of those rare individuals who forever impacts your life...for the better.

As long as I have known Hugh Lee, he has been a MS State fan..and by fan I mean, "flag wavin' uber" fan. The kind of fan we would say bleeds maroon and white (or the school color of your choice). Many times when I was in hot water, usually for not visiting as often as he deemed fit, just a little talk about MSU sports could bring about fountains of grace. MSU Sports, or the newest cute therapy intern...take you pick.

Anyway, as we were preparing for his service today, someone had sent a beautiful spray of flowers with an MSU Flag draped down the middle (right now my Rebel Bear friends are thinking that such a thing is only appropriate for funeral flowers). This loving tribute sparked the discussion. Apparently, in his early years, Hugh Lee bled Rebel Red instead of Maroon. But what could bring about such a change? I mean in the south, school loyalty is almost equated with loyalty to Momma and Jesus. Actually, if we considering how much money the faithful spend during football season versus the offering plate, Jesus is lucky to be on some people's list. But a bitter preacher digresses.

Anyway, school loyalty is a HUGE deal. I have actually known newly weds who almost did not wed because little precious' hubby-to-be insisted on a Bulldog groom's cake that would ruin the red and blue motif of the reception. I have also know of one "house divided" where they still give each other season tickets to separate schools for Christmas....and this is after 40+ years of marriage! The Montagues and Capulets got nothing on us.

Anyway, back to my point. What ever could persuade a die-hard Ole Miss fan to switch colors after years of faithfulness? The answer is actually quite simple. It's the same answer that convinced one Cardinal Club fan not to disinherit his baby girl when she chose to attend "that agricultural school" down the way. It's LOVE.

Love makes people do crazy things, including change SEC loyalties. But for Hugh Lee it was not the love of a sweetheart, or a child, but the greatest love of a friend. Because his dearest friend, and later caretaker, was a Dawg, so Hugh Lee, without ever being asked, changed his spots (or animal mascot). Hugh Lee made the decision that his loyalty to friend Bill was greater than any other. And so the Black Bear became a Bulldog. And amazingly, the world did not fall off its axis, although it sure made for lively funeral talk.

Here is wishing your family the kind of love that truly changes your life and/or tailgating locations!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

HALLOWEEN - EUPORA STYLE

2011-11-03T10:36:00.000-05:00

"During the night Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron and said, “Up! Leave my people, you and the Israelites! Go, worship the LORD as you have requested. Take your flocks and herds, as you have said, and go. And also bless me.” The Egyptians urged the people to hurry and leave the country. “For otherwise,” they said, “we will all die!” So the people took their dough before the yeast was added, and carried it on their shoulders in kneading troughs wrapped in clothing. The Israelites did as Moses instructed and asked the Egyptians for articles of silver and gold and for clothing. The LORD had made the Egyptians favorably disposed toward the people, and they gave them what they asked for; so they plundered the Egyptians." Exodus 12: 31-36

Our 'Papa John', John Wesley - Father of Methodism, used the phrase "Plunder the Egyptians," based on the Exodus story, as a way to express to the early Methodists the importance of using the best of what culture has to offer to not only reach others, but to also help us grow in grace. And Wesley actively lived this principle. Wesley was a published author in not only religion, but also commerce, science and medicine (although because of his passion for electro-shock therapy, I would recommend you stick with your own physician).

Friend Ethan and Ben "Yoda"

Our church in Eupora is getting pretty good at "plundering," if I do say so myself. Most notably is our recent addition of projection and media into our beautiful, historic sanctuary. For a 150+ year old small town First Church, that is "HIGH COTTON" indeed (every once in a while my delta roots can't help but show). People respond to image. People in today's world thrive on image. We got image, complete with cartoons. This past month was Children's Sabbath MONTH..a whole month where we celebrated our children, complete with a sermon series based on Dr. Seuss books (with movie clips). We plundered and even our older adults are a little sad the cartoons are over.

Off the Save the Universe

But the most recent example is the way we celebrate Halloween. Growing up I can remember one kid in my third grade class who went to a church of another denomination that will remain nameless...but I bet you could guess it in three tries. Anyway, I can remember him telling us all on the playground that Halloween was the Devil's Holiday and by celebrating it you were opening yourself to demon possession. I had seen that pea soup Exorcism scene, and I knew that possession stuff was bad news...but I also knew I liked candy a whole lot more. And at even that age, I knew he was nuts. Sadly, he died in a car wreck several years ago. God Rest Him...how sad to leave life without playing dress up and gorging on free candy. But I digress.

"Helps One Channel The Force A Blow Pop Does"

Anyway, a couple years ago I blogged about how some churches stay clear of this dreaded holiday, but how the crazy Methodists of Eupora have made it our own. Well us crazy Methodists have created an epidemic that includes the crazy Baptist and Catholics...and hopefully a lot more to come. On Halloween Night, we have our community Trunk-N-Treat and each year it gets bigger and bigger. And guess what...it is Halloween Night...and the kids dressed as vampires, and zombies and monsters and demons and thus far no one has been possessed...( a little cracked out on sugar, but not true possession). And it has been glorious. It has actually outgrown the capabilities (280 hotdogs and 5 tons of candy given out in about 20 minutes)of our two churches so we are looking for even more partners next year. But the great part is that our community now expects it. When they think of Halloween, they don't think about the crazies out there with razor-blade apples (anyone over 12 knows that Halloween myth). No, when the folks of Eupora think of Halloween, they think of our churches and the safe way we provide for celebration.

And who knows. If they think keep thinking about my crazy church, perhaps they might one day find the door...and that is a scary, wonderful thought.

TREASURE HUNT

2011-10-24T21:57:00.000-05:00

"...indeed, if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God." Proverbs 2: 3-5

Last night I got the strangest call. Following choir rehearsal, I was in my office going through some paper work and visiting with a friend when the phone rang. I normally don't answer the church phone after hours unless I know the person calling. This was a name and number I did not know, but something told me to answer it.

The gentleman on the other end was from Jackson and had recently made an unusual discovery. He had been at a Jackson stained glass company and in the back corner of their warehouse he had uncovered a beautiful antique stained glass window. The people could tell him very little about it, considering they had actually forgotten they had it. Estimates were that it has been there for at least 20 years! Anyway, from the looks of it, it was German blown glass, probably built in the 1880's. He loved and wanted to buy it and have it restored.

A few days later, when then contacted him to discover if he was still interested, they told him that the only thing they new about this window was that is was from the "Methodist Church in Eupora." That was why he was calling! He had found our missing window...and here is the kicker...I did not know we had lost one. I mean, I have lost a lot of things in my day...including at times my mind....but how the heck does one go about losing something like a stained glass window?

If it was ours, and we were interested, he wanted to help us get it renovated and returned to the church. He also wanted to do a film documentary on it, beginning with when it was first made and trying to track down the strange journey that led it from Eupora, circa 1880, to forgotten Jackson storage over a 100 years later.

Thus began my treasure hunt. But before I began recounting my journey, let me give you a little history of the Eupora First United Methodist Church. The church, like the community, was originally organized as Early Grove. Following the typical Methodist Church progression from brush arbor (gotta see one of those one day!) to various, literal, "upper rooms" over houses and storefronts, in 1893 the church built the "wooden church" in the location that is roughly now occupied by the Post Office parking lot, and reorganized as Eupora Methodist Episcopal Church South (for all your United Methodist history buffs out there...both of ya!). If this was to be our window, than this is the church that would have called it home. In 1911, after the congregation had outgrown the wooden structure, a brick church was built next door on the corner that is now inhabited by the US Postal service. This "old church" was the home of worship until 1940 when the "new church" (our current building) was built down the street and the old property sold to the US government for a whoppin' $7000 dollars! Considering the new church cost around $10,000, I would say we did alright. So our mystery window would have been lost somewhere between "wooden church" (where it may have had its home) to "old church's" demise since we know it never made its way to "new church". (You keeping up?)

Anyway, I immediately contacted one of our Trustees who is my "go-to man" with all things church. He has only been a member of the church for about 20 years, but he thought it was certainly something we should look into. I next called a lifetime member of the church who had been a boy in the "old church," and whose family was instrumental in the building of the "new church." The limited description I shared with him did not automatically ring a bell, but he told me to contact a dear lady who has, among her many distinctions, the honor of being not only a lifetime member, but the oldest member. I called her and after about 45 minutes of talking about everything but (you know those conversations) she finally said we "might have had a window like that."

So, I contacted our good Samaritan from the capital city and asked him to email me a picture of the window. I told him if it was ours, we wanted it and would do whatever necessary to work with him to make that happen.

Which brings me to today. While I waited on the email picture, I poured through our church history books and happened to find a few pictures of "old church," (none where ever taken - that we know - of the "wooden church") but from the angles we have, there did not appear to be any stained glass windows. Next I went and met with another friend and church member and showed him the old church pictures. He happens to also be our Trustee Chair and an architect who specializes in historical preservation (na na na na na..wish you had one don't ya!) We perused the pictures and he agreed that none of the windows we could see looked like they fit the bill.

Finally, the email picture of the window came in. It is beautiful. But I knew, in my gut that is was not our window. Not sure how I knew. Just call it preacher's intuition...kinda like mother's intuition but way less powerful. I took the picture to show to one of our lifetime members, who also happens to have married a lifetime member. While they too agreed that is was beautiful, it was not ours. Since the buzz had gone out the night before, the general consensus by the folks in the know (as few as they are) was that there was never any stained glass in the "wooden church" or the "old church"...as this dear lady put it..."no one could afford it..."

I left their house, a little sad, but mainly relieved. Truth is, while I had spent the last many hours searching for proof of a treasured window, I had actually found something a lot more valuable. I found the certainty that we, as a church, have grown beyond things like stained glass. We have much more important and life changing ministries to do with all of that money. And, as much as it would have been a treasured piece of our history...I think most of my folks would agree...we have reached a point where we are much more interested in our future as a part of the Kingdom of God. And my favorite part of this "treasured" realization....I don't think any of my folks would have argued in the slightest.

I set out last night on a journey to find a lost treasure....and low and behold, I did...the treasure of a being a part of church that understands that the greatest way to honor all of the men and women of "wooden church," "old church," and "new church," is to be "THE CHURCH" that God created us to be...and that is a sight too AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL to be captured in stained glass.

My Happy Little Kingdom

2011-10-13T20:42:00.000-05:00

"the children are my children, and the flocks are my flocks. All you see is mine. Yet what can I do today about these daughters of mine..." Genesis 31:43

Family Trip to the OLD COVE

I have four children, so some might think that by now I understand children. The people who might think that are most certainly people without children. I have four children...four very different, distinct, wonderfully loving and taxing children. And one of the truths of parenting that I have come to realize, is that there are many times when you will have no idea what is going on in the precious brain of your child. It is those times when you can either turn to prescription drugs, or give them to God to sort out. Unless your livelihood is tied up with the pharmaceutical industry, I might suggest you try the latter first...notice I said first.

The "Princess and the Heir"

If this was medieval times, then John would be the heir apparent. If this was medieval times, Joshua would also be plotting now to overthrow his brother as soon as the old man kicked it. John is our first born by about 30 seconds. If he were to inherit my kingdom...all I can say is my poor, poor kingdom. I love John. I love him with every breath of my being. I love the joy he gets when praised. I love the creativity he shows with his lego creations. I love that when it comes to play, he is always working outside the box. I love his laugh...his belly shaking laugh. I love that he wants to be Ben's favorite, although he will never stand a chance against Josh. I love that John is his own man...and part of me desperately hopes that he will never lose that. Part of me...the other part of me wants to bash his head against a stone (hey, that is biblical). He is sloppy and he is disorganized. He gets distracted very easily whenever it is something that he is not really interested in (i.e. school work). He is also afflicted with selective hearing (which I have been told is a strictly male affliction) and a hugely short term memory when it comes to directions, but not when it comes to useless information. But at the same time this short term memory means that he seldom holds a grudge, and when he does "forget" he is truly repentant. He is always loving. He wants others to be happy. John lives in a world that must truly be wonderful...I just hope I get to visit it someday.

"The Spare"

Joshua is the second born, but truth be told, if I loved my kingdom, I would leave Joshua the throne. He is very detail oriented. He is a people pleaser. He wants to follow the rules. He wants to do what is right. He wants to win. He is organized. He is loves HIS stuff...and if you aren't watching closely, he might just love your stuff too. He is so kind with his baby brother, who worships him for it. He is loving, and in the stage of life where he is starting to struggle between wanting independence and to make his own way, but still wanting to climb up in the bed with Mom and Dad. Josh is the kind of kid who will always do well in school and life. He is smart, thorough, charming, and works well by playing by the rules....that is when it suits him. Josh is also devious. He wants to win, and will gladly throw someone under the bus if necessary to make it happen. He loves money. Did I mention that he loves money? He also has a hoarder's tendency, which goes against every fiber of my being. And, with this struggle of growing up, he has also developed the attitude of a 15 year old with no home training. He can be quick to anger (must be from his mother's side), will lie and argue that he is telling the truth with his final breath; and will smart-off in a heart beat. That is why I must leave the kingdom to John, because odds are with that smart mouth someday I will be guilty of filicide. But, he is so gentle, and deep down worries when others are unhappy. He is more sensitive to the feelings of others than he would ever let on. Josh also has an innate sense of fairness and justice. He can be so loving, so affectionate. Josh lives in this world. Jesus once told the disciples, "I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves." Matt 10:16. Josh understands this modus operandi, even when he struggles with staying a sheep.

"Little Mother"

Which brings us to my princess, Lucy. A good friend of mine once told me that the work of any good father is to "raise your daughter so that you might make some young man miserable one day." I took this advice heart. Ask Lucy who loves her, and she will easily say," No one will ever love me as much as Daddy." Truth comes from the mouth of babes. She is beautiful, perfect, and wonderful (all traits from her mother). She is smart, and loves to learn. She loves to dress up and be a girl. Pants are a waste on Lucy. Leggins are a fight in cold weather. Tights are a battle that we do not even attempt anymore. She loves dresses...in every form. She loves ribbons, and makeup. She is a princess. She is also the bravest little girl I know. She takes her Type 1 diabetes in stride. She never lets it slow her down. She accepts, often with more grace that most adults would show, her limitations; but she never gives up. She has embraced it as a part of her life, but even at this young age does not let it define who she is. She is confident and in control. Which is also a problem. She knows the weaknesses of others, and readily works the system. When she doesn't get her way (which is a rarity) she can unleash a torrent of wailing and tears that would make a banshee proud. She is overly dramatic in all things. But she loves her Daddy...and that is truly all she needs to do, cause right now she lives in my world. That is until I marry her off to some orphaned son of multi-billionaires who wants nothing more than to provide for his in-laws a lifestyle to which they want to become accustomed (after tithing of course); or until I lock her away in the first Methodist convent...you would not believe the fathers I have helping me research this option.

The Baby Boy

And finally, we have the youngest born. Ben would be forced to enter the priesthood if this was 1500. He is the baby. And although he believes in his very core that he can do everything that his older siblings do, he also knows when to let being the baby work for him too. He has his Mommy wrapped and trained. Actually, Ben has us all trained. Which brings me to our most recent difficulty. Ben is 2. There are many moments each and every day that is loving and caring and thoughtful and easy. But it is in these fleeting moments that it is as if he all of a sudden remembers, "I am two...forget these folks." And then, for no reason whatsoever, he fits or throws a toy. Nothing has happened to make him angry. He is not hurt. He just temporarily forgot that he is two and thus must make the life of his family miserable from time to time. So he throws the water cup he just asked for, simply because he can. He is two. But then in a few moments he will do something so precious and endearing...lulling us all into a false sense of peace, so that his next terrible two moment will have all the more impact. Maybe I should look into that monastery thing.

TRUE LOVE carved in the Old Cove Bank

So that is my happy little kingdom. Ruled every so peacefully by good King Daddy and the blessed Queen Mommy (who we all know is the real power behind the throne). You are welcome to visit anytime, but remember we are not looking for immigrants, legal or otherwise. I bid you all a good night (with a very dignified royal wave of the hand).

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE

2011-10-08T10:05:00.001-05:00

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." Hebrew 13:8

Wiggles PJs 2005

For those of you who are unfamiliar with THE WIGGLES...blessed are you among folks. Odds are you are not (and have not been) the parents of small children within the last decade. Wow, I can actually say I have been the parent of a small child for almost a decade.

Wiggly Bedtime 2006

The Wiggles are a group of 4 men from Australia who created this singing and dancing group to entertain children. I think they actually burst on the international scene sometime in the 1990s, but they came to the Harper House when John and Joshua were about one. They were introduced to us by our cousins from Jackson (that would be Heather's family who is always introducing the bad traits...). It became an overnight addiction for our boys, and thus an all consuming part of our family life. We had Wiggles clothes, pajamas, even Wiggly Tennis Shoes. We had (and still have) just about all the Wiggles videos (except the the very first Wiggles VHS that was only released in Australia, as John will gladly tell you even today). We saw the Wiggles in Concert twice (that's how the hip mini-van set roll), and even had a myriad of Wiggles toys at all appropriate residences (home and grandparents included). We were Wiggles junkies. That is all the boys wanted to watch. They were obsessed with playing music and putting on Wiggles concerts. Whenever we got into a car, we each had our own designated Wiggle to be as we traveled.

Favorite Past-time 2005

All Wiggled Out 2006

Wiggles Concert Trip 2007

Josh was always the Red Wiggle, Murray, who played his guitar. John was always Anthony, the Blue Wiggle, with the drums (get us to show you his third birthday video sometime with his drum set...that would be the 2nd of three sets). I was always Greg, the Yellow Wiggle because I always drove and Greg always drove the Wiggles' Big Red Car. (Side note: Greg would later be replaced by Sam as the Yellow Wiggle around 2006 because of "blood pressure problem"...again, see John for more details). Thus Heather was Jeff, the Asian Purple Wiggle because Jeff was the one no one else wanted to be. I also think it was appropriate because Jeff has a Wiggly form of Narcolepsy which Heather possess whenever she is in a moving vehicle. Later, when Lucy came along she was Jeff and Heather was Dorothy the Dinosaur who eats roses...yep, the Wiggles have a whole cast of friends. Where was I going with this....Oh yeah.

Wiggles Bday #2 2007

For two years running we had Wiggles Birthday Parties. Wanna know what to get my boys for any occasion...try the Wiggles. And of course, thanks to a precedent set by both sets of grandparents, you can't just have one Wiggly Wiggly Food Processor (not really a toy people)...no, you must always have multiple Wiggly items so no one ever has to learn the importance of patience or sharing.

Wiggle World San Antonio 2010

Anyway, the Wiggles dominated our life with John and Joshua. Then when Lucy came along, she joined the Wiggles addiction, but never with the passion the boys had. The Wiggles were still very much a part of our life. We traveled to Texas twice for summer vacations with the Wiggles. The first time in 2008 to visit the Wiggly Play Center in Dallas. Mind you, the Wiggly Play Center is nothing but an over-priced indoor playground in a strip mall, but we made the pilgrimage. Then finally in 2010, we made it to Wiggly Mecca...or as close as you can get this side of Australia. The stars aligned perfectly with the moving of Aunt Bette and Uncle Randy to San Antonio and introduction of WIGGLES WORLD to Six Flags Fiesta Texas. We made the 12 hour trek, once again to hell's neighbor (reference to the heat and drought that is life in TX) to pay homage and to continue to pay for the retirement of these men who have been such a part of our lives.

Wiggles World 2010 Big Red Car

Wiggly Play Center Dallas 2008

But finally, it had begun to fade. Toys and videos were packed. My life was becoming Wiggle Free....until a few months ago when Ben discovered them, drank the Wiggly Wiggly Kool-aid, and brought his siblings back from detox and in the world of Wiggly crack...again.

This morning as I write, all of my children have watched the Wiggles before breakfast (yep, its Saturday so I had to drag no one out of the bed) and are currently playing in the floor with all the old Wiggles figures we saved from all those years ago. And they are having a ball. Laughing, singing...the only change from my memories of all those years ago is now that the Anthony and Murray figures are manned by 9 years olds they are doing a lot of crashing and fighting with super powers.

Some things never change...and this morning I am kinda glad for it. So eat some YUMMY YUMMY FRUIT SALAD, PLAY YOUR GUITAR WITH MURRAY and have a WIGGLY WIGGLY DAY!

ELI DAY

2011-10-07T14:12:00.000-05:00

"On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night." Psalm 63:6

September 27th has long been a special day in my life with Heather. It was September 27, 1994 in front of Poindexter Music Hall on the campus of Mississippi University for Women (and BRILLIANT men too...) that I first laid eyes on the love of my life. It was later, on September 27, 1996 that I professed by unending love for her (to which she replied..."I like you too") After that as we dated, we always celebrated September 27 as a special anniversary, a day to celebrate our growing love.

Who would have thought that all these years later, September 27 would still be a day of celebration for our family; but celebration tinged with sadness. It was on September 27, 2002 that we held our precious little Eli for the final time, before we placed him eternally into the arms of God. And every year since, on September 27 we remember him, celebrate his life, and continue to celebrate the love that brought him to us.

Our very first "ELI DAY" was celebrated with a picnic at Evergreen cemetery in North Carrollton, MS where Eli is buried. John and Joshua had just turned 1 and they found that the cemetery was by far the best playground ever. We spread out a blanket and had our lunch, and then Heather arranged flowers for Eli while I followed around behind two busy boys climbing over every stone in sight. It was that year we planted our willow tree.

When Eli was buried, we chose the site because of a big, beautiful, ancient oak that shaded and sheltered our spaces. The following spring, a tornado came through Carroll County and removed our tree. So we planted a willow. No one told us willow trees were so high maintenance. The willow did not make it to see another Eli Day.

On our second Eli day, we planted a crepe myrtle. He grew well for the first year, but then during a very dry winter we thought we lost it. It was "died" every year since then, including a nasty run in with the mower, but every year when we visit for Eli Day, that crepe myrtle sends up new shoots. In its own way, it has become a perfect reflection of my Eli Day.

Although Eli has been gone for 9 years now, there is something about the changing of the seasons, and the celebration of the boys birthday that always hurts. As we celebrate another year of John and Joshua growing and changing, there is always the small pain that comes in knowing our celebration is missing one. As the seasons change, and nature begins to prepare for its winter sleep; my heart seems to find itself losing a little of its spring. As we make our yearly pilgrimage to that spot of green in Carroll county, I find myself still longing to be buried there with him.

But then we arrive. We spread our blankets, share our food. We watch as our children explore and conquer the mountains of man-made stone. We arrange flowers as a testament of our ending love and grief. And we marvel that the little crepe myrtle whose resilience matches our own. Just as each year it seems to be at last conquered by the winter drought and cold; it somehow once again struggles into new life. Just as each year our hearts ache for the child that we entrusted to heaven; here on this beautiful autumn day, nurtured by the laughter of brothers and a sister who keep his memory alive. our Eli and our hearts find new life...for another year.

"A Morning with Mouse"

2011-09-27T09:01:00.000-05:00

"Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise." Luke 23:43 NIV

This morning Heather has an early appointment, so I am hangin' with "Ben Bob." (NO, that is not his real name..it is a nickname the kids gave him that is derived from Sponge Bob...although pretty sure since all their friends call him Ben Bob that some of them actually believe we would be so cruel as to name him so...) Anyway, it is not often that Benny and I get to hang in the mornings.

Look who found "Sissy's" makeup....

Most mornings in the Harper house are nuts. My alarm goes off at 6AM because I have the intention to shower and get dressed before I wake up the kids. I promptly reset it for 6:30AM. This time when it goes off, I have to reflect for a moment. If the kids are having breakfast at school (like today) then I reset it for 6:45AM. If they are not, then I get up to start breakfast. But today I got to reset. Although John is usually up around 6:15AM every morning for his much needed TV time. Without it the world is a dangerous place.

At 6:45AM I get Lucy up so she can have a little TV time. I make the offer of TV time to Josh, who usually ops for another 15 minutes of sleep (I love that kid!). Then I make beds, pack snacks. By now it is 7:00AM and the kids start brushing teeth...which in my household has to be somewhat supervised otherwise the toothpaste step of brushing you teeth is always forgotten. Considering toothpaste is only 50% of the brushing process, it is easy to see how 9 year olds could forget it.

Now, I offer calm and gentle instructions (you know me - calm and gentle) about getting dressed while Daddy is in the shower. I wake up Heather (if she and Ben are still sleeping, like today) and jump in the shower. She oversees the final dressing and the proper application of the hair bow. I get dressed and we are all out of the house by 7:20AMish headed for school. I drop them off and then head to the church.

Meanwhile, at home with all of us gone, Heather and Benny enter into a somewhat mysterious ritual of breakfast and "Foffee" (lots of milk and sugar with a touch of coffee for color...thanks Mamaw for creating this addiction for my children) and Mickey Mouse Club House and I think the View...and what else I do not know. Their morning ritual is like Transubstantiation...best if you try not to understand it. (For those who do not speak 'seminary', transubstantiation is the theology involving Communion elements as the Body and Blood of Christ....go ask your pastor about it...tell him/her that I sent ya.)

But today, Heather is gone and we are creating our own ritual. Thus far we got me and Benny laid up in bed, worshipping at the altar of "Foofy" (Goofy for those who do not speak Benese). Although, I say that in jest; I do think there is something holy going on. As I rest my chin on his head, he giggles at the "Hogog" song (Hotdog for those not in the know), and I am writing to you. And in the process...we are creating, much as our Father did, our own Eden. I am sure in the next few moments, we will have a commercial, or a need for more Pops, or some other disruption...but for right now, Me and the Ben-Man are having "just another day in Paradise." You know Phil Vassar got that from me, right? Wonder where my royalty checks are?

Praying for you your own moments of paradise today....

"Here We Go Again"

2011-09-26T14:33:00.000-05:00

"But whenever you enter a town and they do not receive you, go into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet we wipe off against you. Nevertheless know this, that the kingdom of God has come near.'" Luke 10:10

I know my now that most of the faithful few who followed my blog has given up hope. Several times now I have restarted posting, and then low and behold I find myself "neck deep" in life and for some reason the blog is always the first thing to drop. It is not that I don't want to blog. I actually love doing it. It does take time, which is a precious commodity in my life, but I always enjoy my time writing.

My HS English Teacher (who was also my Star Teacher and all around amazing woman...Carrie Cotton Hodges of Indianola, whose son Martin is a very gifted sculptor whose work I hope to own myself one day...hint for those making Christmas lists) and I once talked about writing. She told me that the key to being a writer was to have the heart for it. The key to being a successful writer is to have the skill. Unfortunately, like my Josh and baseball, when it comes to writing I am heavy on the heart, but low on the skill (or perhaps the discipline, whichever sounds more heroic)

So here I do again, attempting to share my thoughts, feelings and perhaps a few words of wisdom...hoping all the faithful followers will give me a second chance (this is actually like a 3rd or 4th chance, but who is counting....). You know, as Christians our lives are all about second chances. We serve and worship of God who gives endless second chances. He is always there, ready to forgive, wipe the slate clean, and set us back on our feet. (How is that for a string of metaphors?!) One of my favorite stories about second chances is when Jesus sent out the disciples. He told them they were to taken nothing and go from town to town, relying on the kindness of the faithful. And when (not He did not say "if") they came to a town that would not accept them they were to dust the dirt of that town off their sandals in protest...but also tell them the good news that the "Kingdom of God has come near."

I think there are several lessons for us "2nd Chancers" in there. First, we have to treat our failings (including failed attempts at faithful blogging and letter writing...I wish I was better about writing letters...anyway...) as the disciples treated those towns. We gotta "shake off the dirt" and move on. That is what God does when He forgives. He washes the dirt of sin off of us and then moves on, even when He knows we will be back dirty again.

Kind of like little Ben and dirt piles. He loves to play in dirt. He loves to dig and throw it (especially at others...we are working on such behavior that is common for people with his mother's genetics). But Ben also likes to wash his hands. It is nothing for him to go from dirt pile to washed hands repeatedly...actually endlessly if we would let him. But we let him. He is learning. That's the way God views us. We keeps washing off the sin, cause he knows we are learning...and trusts that perhaps one day we might just stay clean for a little longer.

But another lesson is in the final action as they leave town. Even though they were protesting the towns that shut there doors...even they deserved to hear the good news...even as a parting word. Just another example of how God NEVER gives up...even when we try to push him away.

WOW! God is amazing. But here comes the kicker, folks. We are called to be like God. We are called to be just as amazing. So here is for 2nd chances...and 3rds, and 4ths, and all the chances we need and that we are called to give to others.

Thanks for reading....and for another chance to share a little of me (and us!)

WORDS OF WISDOM: Bro. Jeep Pepper

2011-05-20T09:55:00.000-05:00

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." I Peter 4:8

Everyone who knows Bro. Jeep, loves Bro. Jeep, or at least all those I know who know him. Whether it is his frank way of saying things, or his incredible way of "rockin" the piano when playing the oldest of hymns, he is an original. My connection with Jeep began when we moved to Eupora and he stole my church secretary. Yep, the thrill of working for a green-horn young pastor could not compete with Jeep's proposal of marriage.(I don't get it either???)

Mrs. Dorothy had been church secretary for several years, but about the time I came along, she up and married Bro. Jeep and they decided to enjoy life together. I know everyone reading this is shocked at the idea that working at the church is not the height of enjoyment. We all know that there is no greater joy than working with Christians on a daily basis, but apparently married bliss and traveling trumps it. (Know that the drippin sarcasm comes from a place of love...true love...)

Anyway, but all works as it should. Gwenn, our current church secretary and I are a perfect match. Actually, whenever the Lord and the Bishop move me from this place (NO TIME SOON!!!!!) Gwenn is gonna have to go with me. Sorry church and James (Gwenn's husband who can fix all things) we are a package deal. But I digress a whole lot.

Anyway, back to Bro. Jeep. Bro. Jeep is a retired local pastor, which means he did not have all the crazy seminary training to mess him up. He also is the patriarch of a line of preachers. His son Doug is a Conference evangelist and his grandson Wesley (great name of a Methodist preacher!) is a pastor. So needless to say, preachin is in his blood. He also reminds me a lot of my grandfather in the ways he expresses himself. Bro. Jeep is always willing to lend a helping hand, whether it is helping teach Sunday school or filling the pulpit when I am out of town. Serving God is just who he is and what he does. No separating the two.

For the past several weeks we have had groups participating in the Short-Term Disciple Bible Study of the Book of John. Bro. Jeep and Dorothy are a part of our Wednesday morning group. Back several meetings ago he shared the following words of wisdom (I think from his dad) and they have stuck with me ever since. He said "We 'like' because....We 'love" in spite of." Did you catch that? Our likes are based on circumstances and actions. I like those little lemon yummy things my friend Maggie makes because they truly are a transcendent experience. Our small group knows that they are a product of "when lemons meet Jesus." Thy are truly that good. Not that this is a great example, but just was thinking about my need of lemon yummies so when Maggie reads this she might get the hint.

Anyway, we like people because of who they are, what they do, and the circumstances that surround our relationships. We "like because" of something. Thus our likes are always changing. But when it comes to love, we "love in spite of" who they are, what they do, or those circumstances. We love simply because that is who we are as followers of Christ. God loves so therefore we love. Pure and simple...just like the man who shared it.

Although we come from different backgrounds and have different world views on a lot of things, I thank God for Bro. Jeep and his earthy honesty and integrity. He keeps me grounded in a lots of ways, just by knowing he is watching. Maybe I oughta take him with me when I move too...at this rate it would probably be easier if I just stay in Eupora forever....hope the Cabinet it listening....

The End of the World as We Know It...

2011-05-14T19:40:00.000-05:00

OK, I have nothing remotely spiritual or inspirational to share tonight. I actually have about three half-finished blogs to go with my "Words of Wisdom", but instead of completing something for the spiritual enrichment of the masses that follow my blog (all 5 of ya!), I decided instead just to talk about being a Dad. I actually have lots of experience in that department, but please don't ask for references.

It is 6:08PM and I am asking God why the HECK it is not later than that. Isn't it time to get these kids in bed? Seriously! I mean, at the ripe old age of 35 (I think that is how old I am) I am not trying to speed my life away, but sometimes, I would gladly give up a few hours on the end for a little peace here in the middle. For instance, in a few weeks I will be faced with Annual Conference...a time when faithful United Methodist all over MS will gather in Jackson to have lunch with friends, argue with enemies, but mainly wish that time would speed up...OK, maybe that is a somewhat pessimistic view of AC, but that is where I am today...ask again tomorrow, I am sure it will change.

But I digress...hey, my blog, my digressions. So it is now 6:10PM and God is not fulfilling my wishes. Today has been a day. Lucy had her gymnastics showcase today. It was 2 hours of standing and watching gymnastics, of which about 15 minutes were actually her doing something remotely gymnastic...I know it is about 15 minutes because I had 19 minutes left on the video camera, of which I wasted about 4 minutes filming the floor and recording my commentary of the various parenting styles on display, including several "they let their child leave the house lookin like that?"...all of which will be edited out before the disk in finalized. Admittedly not perfect behavior for a preacher, but we all have our moments. So I guess that means when I am up for beatification one day that the process might get delayed...I'll be dead...it's all good.

Anyway, we had Subway with Mamaw (Ben's says MeMaw) and Poppy (Ben's says nothing...) before the showcase. BTW, Orchard Chicken Salad is a lot better in the commercial..but hey, it was $5. Following our tribute to Mary Lou (all you kids of the 80's know which one I am talking about don't ya) we came home and Mamaw and Poppy split...I so look forward to the day I can split from a house full of kids. Then we preceded to pickup (by "we" I mean I picked up) a little around the house; John and Josh played some Wii...Lucy watched a little TV and Ben basically rolled around on the bed with me and Heather and whined.

Ben will be 2 in August and I keep telling him to stop whining and use his words. USE YOUR WORDS! is something that is said a lot around our house. Usually to the 6 year old who likes to mumble, but all people (old and young) need this reminder sometimes. Tonight Heather informed me that is was unrealistic to expect Ben at his age to use words. To which I responded that I am sure there are kids (I've seen those babies on TV reading Chaucer) that use words at 21 months. To which she responded, "yeah, perhaps China." To which I replied that was utterly ridiculous because we all know that 2 years olds in China are already doing algebra. Geez, and she use to be a preschool teacher!

By this point you are realizing that I really don't have anything inspiring or actually meaningful to say. I am just venting. Hey, my blog, my rules. But I promise that in the next couple a days I will have another "Words of Wisdom" blog to share that will inspire your hearts and change your lives. After all, that is what I do. I change lives...and of course by lives I mean diapers.

But to make it all worth your 3 minutes to read, here are also some pics of the kids. So now folks can stop making snide remarks about never seeing pictures of the kids, to which I say, "you wanna see my kids so blamed much, come and keep em sometimes and allow a brother to potty in peace. BTW, does anyone know of a website where you can send all your digital pics and they print them out and put them in order, perhaps in a nice book? Think the last time I printed a picture was in 2006....oh well, another strike against beatification. St. Trey, the patron saint of the overwhelmed...guess it will just have to wait....
fulltime Mom is like prison with no parole...I was going to say that perhaps prison is too strong a word, but not really. Her job never ends, and the truth is she never gets the praise she deserves. THANKS BABE!

I guess my final thought, so I can close and go join in family game night, it this. Being a parent is hard. Being a parent is important. Being a parent can be the most exhausting, consuming, draining job ever. But boy, are the benefits worth it! (And I am not just talking about the fact that at least one of my kids is going to be nasty, obscenely rich, so that Daddy can retire in style....well, here is hoping they at least get a job and move out...) Well, thanks for reading! Ya'll come back now, ya here!

Words from the Wise: Rev. Faye Hudnall

2011-05-03T13:20:00.000-05:00

"Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him." Psalm 127:3

Some people enter our lives and leave no impression, others leave their fingerprints all over. That would be my dear, dear friend Faye. Heather and I met Faye when we moved to Atlanta for seminary. It was strictly a God thing. Not sure whether Faye was placed in our lives because of my mother's prayer for "someone to mother them so far away from home," or because God knew that there were lessons I needed to learn that seminary just could not teach. Or perhaps it was because God just loved "our guts" (1st Fayeism for the day). But whatever the reason, God blessed us with the Fayester. Of course, all who knew Faye felt the same way...that she was created just to love them.

Anyway, we had sent out Heather's resume to several local churches and preschools looking for a job. Faye was then the Preschool Director as Haygood UMC, a church that was only about 1/2 a mile from campus. Although Heather interviewed for a bookkeeping position...yes, this is the woman who has nothing to so with balancing our checkbook... but Faye, in her divine wisdom, saw that my Love's gifts and graces were with children and hired her as a assistant PreK teacher instead. But in hiring Heather, she took on us both. I would later officially join the staff when she became the Director of Weekday Children's Ministries.

In talking about Faye, it is impossible to know where to begin with all the wonderful things to say. She was a MS girl (Natchez born and bred...where she later returned to work in her home church) which automatically puts her into a special group. She was a mother, not just of her amazing two boys, but of everyone she met. She was a devoted wife (who happened to catch a pretty awesome husband to boot). She was a loving and deeply spiritual follower of Jesus. But she had that amazing spirituality that just glowed through every word and deed...never preachy or condemning or condescending. Always loving and compassionate and encouraging. When you did something wrong, the pain was never in her scolding (believe me she could come unglued) but in the fact that you had disappointed her.

As I think back to the many wonderful and insightful things she said, it is hard to choose just one that has shaped me to the most. In all honesty, it was probably just the honor of "living with Faye" that impacted my life and ministry the most. But in trying to narrow down my favorite Faye "words of Wisdom" I come down to three.

First, "Lord, love a duck!" Although there is no overt theological implications in this fun phrase (although I am sure the Lord does loves ducks) it just makes me smile and fittingly has found its way into the vocabulary of many of us who loved her.

Second, "Box Wine is a Party in a Box." Some of the best parties I can remember were impromptu gatherings started with a box of wine. Now while admittedly there are better vintages found in bottles, the wine was never the point. Faye understood that the heart of any party was just the being together...the details were immaterial. Good friends make even mediocre wine a great thing.

Finally, "Children are the point of Church." Spoken as only a mother and teacher could. On one hand this recognizes the divine truth that we are ALL GOD'S CHILDREN, and thus the church should shape its ministry to meet the needs of people as parents would meet the needs of children. Children need safety, security, affirmation, appreciation, nourishment, nurture and instruction. It just so happens that big folks need those things too. But for Faye, a greater emphasis was that all churches should be in ministry to children. For her there was no acceptable excuse for not having children's ministry. All churches, regardless of age or size have access to a child and should be doing all in their power to foster that little life. In this regard, I think that Faye truly understood the heart of God.

Almost two years ago, our dear Faye joined the Church Triumphant. There is not a day that goes by when I don't miss her. I miss hearing her voice. I miss the fact that she did not have the chance to love on my littlest boy. I miss the security of knowing I could pick up the phone day or not and get the very best advice in parenting and/or ministry. I miss the way I felt about the world, just knowing Faye was in it.

About now, she is in Heaven with a huge desire to kick my derriere. Faye was one who understood the best way to handle sorrow and trials was with joy. I can hear her now..."Stop being so down, grab a box of wine, call some friends and kiss the kids. Lord, love a duck, Trey! Your so much better lookin when you smile."

So today I raise my empty glass (remember Webster County is dry and it is a little early in the day) to a life well lived, that still lives on in all of us who were blessed to call her "ours."

Words from the Wise: Bro. Joe Humphries

2011-04-29T19:56:00.000-05:00

"Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life." Proverbs 16:31

For starters, Best Wishes and Prayers for William and Kate....Lord knows that family needs 'em! Prayers and Prayers and more Prayers for all those effected by the storms! Blessings, blessings, and more blessings for the utility workers, service personnel and volunteers who are sacrificing so much.

Yesterday, I had the honor of assisting with a funeral for a retired United Methodist Minister. Although one of the papers called him a "former" UM Minister, I know that was a misprint. Being a minister is like being Southern...even if you try to escape it (and who would ever want to?) it is always who you are. Although I did not have the privilege of knowing Bro. Joe Humphries, he was, from all accounts, an amazing man. Of course, for the most part, good funerals make everyone into amazing folks, but for Bro. Joe, I know this was gospel. He was spoken of in cherished tones long before he joined the Church Triumphant. (FYI: The third or top crown of the Triple Crown of the Pope stand for the Church Triumphant...just though you may want to know)

Anyway, it was a beautiful service filled with UM preachers (think we might have had a Baptist one too). One of the other assisting UM preacher was a nephew-in-law of Bro. Joe. (only in the South would be keep up with such distinctions in the family). He shared a beautiful story about some advice that Joe had given him on the eve of his ordination. Although I wish I could remember it word for word, it went something like this. "In spite of my many faults as a preacher and my faults as a pastor, I hope it can be said that I worked really hard." The original wording was more beautiful, but you get point. As I reflected on these wise words, I thought what a testament they were to a true understanding of ministry (and life for your non-preacher folks). We are all human and make mistakes (preacher's especially - just ask our wives). And if we spend our lives striving for success, it may often elude us. But the true value is not always in the success, but in the striving. May we all work hard each and every day to "reach for the prize" as Paul says and be faithful disciples for Christ.

As I continue to mull over these words, I think of all the other great and godly men and women who have shaped my life and ministry. I think of the lessons I learned from their teaching, and even more from their living. So, for the next several blogs, I am gonna honor those wonderful folks who have shaped me as a man and as a minister. Not only to share their wisdom with you, but also so you will know who to blame for the "hot catfish mess" I sometimes am. (If that is not an expression only a Southern can appreciate, I do not know what is!)

Thank God for those who teach us. Thank God for those who shape us. Thank God for those whose lives of righteousness illumine our way. Kiss your wife (or husband if ya got one)! Weddings always make me emotionally and mushy...

A MORNING MEDITATION

2011-04-01T09:17:00.000-05:00

"If you loudly greet your neighbor early in the morning, he will think of it as a curse." Proverbs 27:14

     Let me tell you just a little about my morning. Today is April 1st. Other than being the day for celebrating what is in my opinion the most useless of all excuses for a "holiday," namely April Fool's Day; it has thus far been like any other morning in the Harper house. So here goes.
     Mornings at the Harper house begin when I wake up between 5:55AM and 5:58AM and roll over to look at the clock and realize that due to some horrible cosmic curse, I have again be taken from sleep minutes for it was absolutely necessary. (my alarm is set to go off at 6AM). So,protesting in my head the injustice of those lost minutes, I strike back at the world and reset my alarm for 6:30AM. That'll show the universe! Now, fast forward 30, ever so brief moments.
    Now it is 6:30ish and I must get up. I sit up and contemplate whether or not it is legally necessary for my children to even bother with school (a trait I thankfully inherited from my mother, whose tender care and understanding was the foundation of our family tradition of using all the allowed excused absences because they are in fact, allowed...sometimes you just need a personal day!) But I digress in parenthesis.
   Deciding that Heather would never agree to them staying at home simply because I do not want to get out of bed; I get up. Next, for your reading pleasure I will skip over the next few moments of my daily ritual. Then I go and wake Heather. After all, we gotta fix lunches, or just the fact that I refuse to be the only adult awake in the house. After waking her and watching her move (if not, I will have to return to this step), I make my way back to the other end of the house and wake up John and Joshua. Most days, after the proper amount of whining, they can be trusted to get up, brush teeth (if we are eating breakfast at school...FYI, when you have 2000 children like I do, it is cheaper to pay Webster County to feed em!) get dressed and make their beds.
   Then, I proceed to the most difficult, frustrating and irritating moment of every morning...the waking of the princess. Lucy has her father's understanding of mornings, namely that they would be better if they began around 10AM. I return to her room and check blood sugar. Being the pro I am (and the fact that she holds on to sleep like a church member with a petty problem - hey, SOME churches have them) she never knows this happened. By the way, have I mentioned lately that Diabetes is of the devil?   So, back to my story.
     I then began the ever so tender process of trying to gently wake Sleeping Beauty. After about 2 minutes of rocking and soft words, she lets out her first angry "NO!," which kicks my parenting into overdrive and send the blood pressure into orbit. But, being the rational person I am, I then do what rational parents do...I try to bargain with her. Offering up everything from afternoon treats to dress choices, I attempt to extract her from the covers for the next few moments. By now, Heather is up and working on lunch, and rolling her eyes as she passes me trying to reason with Lucy. John and Josh are the on the way to getting ready and Ben (if awake) is walking around calling for shoes with a determination that he will not be left behind.
   After several minutes of bargaining to no avail, then I let my baser instincts take over resort to threats. This, will eventually get her out of bed and brushing her teeth. Then comes clothing and her tirade against all the choices that have been made with regards to her wardrobe and why various articles are either "squeezing" or "bumpy". Fast forward another 10 minutes or so. The boys are ready, Benny is still calling for shoes from any big person he sees and Heather comes in for a tag team effort with the princess who is not a raging dragon. But, if clothes were a battle, shoes and socks are a war. My daughter inherited her real daddy's (LOL) appreciation of being barefoot. Thus, shoes, even when what she wants, are a nuisance. Now begins the bellowing about which socks don't bother her toes and the protestations about any and all show options that are not her "ruby slippers." Let me stop for a moment and tell you about the slippers. They are slip on, red, sparkly and a size too small, but somehow when her all her appropriately sized shoes are "squeezing" her feet, these fit just right. Lord, who can understand women!?!?!
   Finally, after lots of yelling by all parties, I leave Heather to fight the battle of hair to answer Ben's still persistent calls for shoes, so we can make it out of the door to school in time for Webster County to feed my kids frosted cereal with chocolate milk (it is something universal in elementary children to do something as repulsive as pour chocolate milk over cereal).
   So, that is our mornings. I share those not as in illustration of some Higher Enlightened teaching moment, but simply because I wanted to share and hope you have a moment laughing at my pain. Because now, two hours after the fact, I find it kinda funny myself. For the moment. But not to let down those who read my blog for spiritual enrichment....GOD LOVES YOU...even when you are princess-turn-dragon whom your parents contemplate selling to the gypsies each and every school morning.

I Do Not Know His Name, EITHER and Quite Frankly I AM GLAD!

2011-03-26T15:29:00.001-05:00

"bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." Luke 6: 28

     Sometimes I can't help but laugh at just how ironic life can be. Maybe this only happens to me. I hope not, because I don't want any of your lives to lack the blessing of irony. Now, I will admit that in the heat of the moment it is frustrating as Heck! (nothing offensive here), but when the moment is over, it can be quite funny. OK, now with all of that build-up, I know you are dying for the proverbial Paul Harvey-esc "rest of the story."
     Yesterday I wrote about my friend. The man who comes by to see me about twice a year. The man who keeps me humble and thankful. Which to do that for a preacher is no easy task. Don't believe me, ask a preacher's wife sometime. But I am digressing.
    Yesterday, I blogged about my special friend and the opportunities that are presented to help him. Today, was the irony. I am currently at the office wrapping up a few things for tomorrow (yes, preachers don't just work on Sundays). Heather calls. Now this is not out of the ordinary. Whenever I leave her trapped in the house with all my kids, she often calls. Not so much because she needs my help. After all, she is a supermom in every way (and I am not just saying that because she will hopefully one day read this..I really mean it...and if you know her you know I speak the truth) She usually calls to remind me of just how wonderful she is that I am allowed the freedom to leave the house while she is alone, trapped with all my kids. (that was meant to be a run-on) But this time she called to tell me that some belligerent man had just come to the house looking for me. She told him I was not there. He got angry and asked if I had gone somewhere with someone since my car was there. (Did you read the "liar, liar pants on fire" in between the lines?) She told him that I was not there. He stormed off mumbling that he would catch me at the church. So she called to give me the heads up about the crazy man looking for me.
     Now my first inclination would be that perhaps since this person knew my car, than he was a community person who might be in need. Maybe, (trying to give the benefit of the doubt) he was no angry, but desperate. So I went outside to see if I could find him. When I work alone at the church, I usually lock myself in. Not for protection (this is Eupora!) but to keep out the interruptions. When you are talking with God, other folks have a tendency to barge in. And being the preacher, you are not allowed to get angry with church folks...at least that is what I have been told. Susanna Wesley answered this need by throwing an apron over her head which told her kids she was talking to God, so they knew to be quite.   Unfortunately, I would look rather strange with an apron over my heard, and neither my children or church members are they well trained (just kidding church folks...ha ha...i love you all). But again, back to my story.
     I went out to look for this needy soul with a pastoral spirit (and if I happened to mention that I did not appreciate him bombarding my house and calling my wife a liar, so be it). I found him...oh boy, did I find him.
     Before I could say anything he growls "It sure took me long enough to find you." I apologized and asked if he had been to the house looking for me. He said yes. I told him my wife had called. Before I could say another word, he says," You got any money to help someone with a place to stay." I said I was very sorry, but our funds were depleted for the month. He then said, "What the (insert four letter expletive here) you mean you don't have any money?" I said, "Again, I am sorry that I can't help you, and there is no need for that language." He continued to share his more unsavory vocabulary as he got in his truck, slamming the door and leaving with a parting single digit gesture.
     Yes, "isn't it ironic, don't ya think? A little too ironic. Yeah, I really do think. It's like rain on your wedding day"...sorry, got lost in song for a moment. Anyway, so there you have it. But such is life when helping folks. The reality is most people who need us are wonderful, good hearted folks like my nameless friend, who just came seem to make life work. It is for those that our hearts are warmed and our hands readily open. But then there are those who make giving difficult. But then, Jesus had them too. And it is for those to whom we want to return the single digit gesture, that Jesus said, we are to bless and pray. Wow, could being a Christian be any crazier?

I Do Not Know His Name

2011-03-25T11:09:00.000-05:00

"I was a father to the needy; I took up the case of the stranger."   Job 29:16

     For all of those who have been patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for be to get back to blogging...HAPPY FRIDAY! For all of those who, in truth, did not give two hoots....phooey on you!  I want to blog. I want to write. I love doing both. It is just the time factor that I have yet to figure out. So, if it is true that practice make perfect, I oughta have this down sometime before Ben graduates from Medical School. Some might call a prediction about their 18 month old going to medical school a bit "wishful thinking." I call is retirement planning. Each to his own.
     Last week, I answered the door to a familiar face. And if I am honest, as preachers are expected to be, it was not a face I had hoped to see at more door. But there he was, big as day. Warm smile - ready handshake - familiar story (same characters, same basic plot line, only slight changes in the details). But before I launch into this encounter, let me give you some background.
     About 8 years ago, while we were serving in Carrollton, we stared a ministry called Good Samaritan. This special fund was created to help people in need with utilities, groceries, prescriptions, etc. I know this is not an original idea (or name for that matter). Most churches have something similar. If your church doesn't, you should hang your head in utter shame. But I digress (as usual).
     Anyway, it was during this time that I first met my friend. He and his family were traveling through in an old beat-up station wagon. He was in between jobs and he was trying to get to some family, some place in south Mississippi where he had a possible job at a chicken plant (interesting detail to remember). He had been working at a fish plant in Greenwood, but had been laid off. Homeless, broke, with two children and a wife on disability. The needed money for food and gas and found their way to the church. I met with him. Got him to fill out the appropriate paperwork. Helped them fill up the car and gets some food. We prayed together. I wished them the best.
     That was my first meeting with these good folks. First among many.  Over the next 3-4 years in Carrollton, I saw them every 6-8 months. Always homeless. Always broke, having spent what little money they had on some car repair for their old clunker. Always on the way to some new town, with some other family members, for the possibility of some new job. Each time they came, I listened. We filled out the paperwork. I got them what they needed and set them on their way with prayer. Each time praying for the best, yet by now knowing I would see them again.
    Then four years ago we moved to Eupora. A new church, a new home, a new life. About a year after we arrived, there he was.   My friend, standing in the foyer of my new church. He had stopped in Carrollton and been informed by the new pastor that the church no longer helped and that I had moved to Eupora. So here they were. The latest job had again phased out. Homeless, broke due to care repairs, in need of gas, maybe a place to stay, food. Same tired faces smiling at me from the windows of that old station wagon. And I did as I had done countless times before. We talked. We filled out paperwork. We got them all they needed. We prayed and sent them on their way. All the time knowing we would meet again.
     And such has been our relationship, my friend and me. At least once a year he arrives.  Now we chat about our children. He was been with me through all of mine. I remark on how his kids have grown (both being teenagers now). I listen to the latest health problems from his wife; the story of the latest job loss; the details of the family members who have next offered them a roof and the possibility of work.
    And now he knows I need a copy of his driver's license. Although most times I don't even bother with the paperwork and just give him whatever our family has to share. Such was the case last week. I helped with what I could. We prayed. I waved to the family (now in a different beat-up car). I closed the door on by beautiful home, sat down and prayed as I have so many times in the past.
     I offered prayers for my friend. That he might at last find a job that can provide for his family. That can give them some stability in our hugely unstable world. I prayed for his wife's health and thanked God for federal programs that cover her medical expenses. I prayed for a home for his kids and whatever their school situation may be. That they will find a place to call home. A place where they can live, grow, mature, and find a way out of the cycle of poverty they have always known. Then I prayed for my family, that we have never and will never have to know such an existence. I prayed for our church, that our doors would always be a place of shelter for those in need. I prayed for loving parents that provided and cared and shaped me. I prayed that one day my friend would find even a small measure of the blessings and security I have always known. I prayed. I prayed. I prayed for safe travel as they left and for them when they return, as I know they will.

Slow to Anger...Maybe God Has Something There?

2011-01-04T12:10:00.001-06:00

‘The LORD is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion." Numbers 14:18

I know this may come as a bit of a surprise for most of you folks, but from time to time my wife and I fight. I know, you are asking yourself how this could be possible. I mean we are too cute and perfect for such mundane, ordinary behavior. But the truth often hurts...so deal with it. But one of the things that characterize most of our fights (post-children, anyway) is that they never really start with us, or are even really about us. Here is the play by play from a recent disagreement (we all know that is an understatement). Kids are getting ready for bed which means all hell is breaking loose at our house. Something about my kids and water makes them completely cracked out. But I digress.

The chaos of bedtime...and I start packing the DS bag. The DS bag is a small duffle bag that plays home to our boys DSi's, Lucy's Leapster and all the appropriate games for each. As I go through putting everything in order, I start opening game boxes to put all the loose games at the bottom of the bag back into their appropriate place. Not sure what brainblock my kids have with putting games back in their boxes, but this also extends to Wii games, movies, board games...actually anything that has a box. During my process, I discover that we have 4 games missing.

So, being the calm, cool and always collected father that I am (hush up...all of you!) I ask my dear, sweet, innocent boys where these games are. Now I have been a father for over 8 years now. You would think I know that this qualifies as one of the those questions you never ask your children. Never ask your children where something is....if you don't know...odds are they sure as heck don't. Never ask your children if they have brushed their teeth or used soap and shampoo in the shower....if you did not see it, it did not happen. Never ask your kids (if you have more than one) what they want to do/eat/watch...you will never get a consensus. Never ask your kids if they did something wrong....they are born fully understanding the American legal system, the 5th amendment, and innocent until proven guilty. Finally, never ask your kids anything rhetorical...it just makes you look stupid. But again, I digress.

I ask them where the games are, knowing as the words leave my mouth that the answer is NO! But it wasn't so much the answer as the tone that really ticked me off. I mean, on pure principle I am upset that my children do not take better care of their stuff. This is not their fault. Although I am certain that grandparents are at least 99.999% responsible for the overwhelming amount of stuff my kids possess; my kids have lots of stuff. The more stuff you have, the less able you are to keep up with your stuff (unless you are super cool and organized like me...OK, even I don't buy that...anyway...) But what really "got my goose" (who the heck came up with such a phrase?) was that tone. It was the flippant, "those have been gone forever" with its undertone of "stupid man" that sent me into orbit. I immediately over-react (I know, hard to imagine) and issue some insane edict or another which I am pretty sure involved debtors prison, and send my kids to their room for the next 180 years. Then, mumbling about how "no child of mine" (words parents always eat) is gonna be this careless and selfish, I storm toward the other end of the house (have I mentioned that our house is about a mile long) to rail against heaven for cursing me with such progeny when I encounter my dear wife. I immediately regale her with the details of our children's horrid behavior, to which she replies calmly, "OK." OK! OK! My children are on the road to being either lifetime criminals or IRS workers and all I get is OK! Which bring us to the for mentioned fight because she is not as irate over this massive injustice as I am.

Again, this fight has nothing to do with her. She just happened to be in my path. And she also happens to have this extremely annoying ability to deflate all of my arguments. I think that is something they teach women when they become wives. I have a theory that there is some secret underground Wife School. Kind of like a speak-easy where they flash engagement rings to get in. Once inside it is hours of fruity drinks, slide shows of silly husband antics, and instruction on how to keep your husband in line or make him miserable when he isn't. Just a theory. If I happen to disappear today you all know what happened.

Anyway, to my point (yes, there is one). The scriptures tell us that God is slow to get angry, and maybe there is something to it. If my own personal fuse was perhaps just a little longer, I would have been able to process for myself all of the legitimate aspects of said encounter with my children and perhaps found a way to be more constructive in my assessment and handling of the situation (look at me using all that counseling mumbo-jumbo). Yep, if I have taken breath and thought before I exploded it would have saved our entire family some peace, not to mention a few blood pressure points.

So, as I work to be a better person in the coming years, I am gonna try to give this "slow to anger" thing a whirl. I know that it is not going to be easy. For one thing, DNA is against me. I come from a long line of quick tempered folk. But who says you "can't teach an old dog new tricks" or maybe this is really more of a case of "a leopard can't change his spots" (really, who was sitting around and came up with these sayings...)

But either way, whether spots or tricks, I am gonna try. Now if everyone will just cooperate and not tick me off this will be so much simpler! And just because...another picture of Ben to make you smile!

2011: My Year For the Simple Things

2011-01-01T20:38:00.013-06:00

^"But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that." I Timothy 6:8

WELCOME 2011! I have big plans (and hopes) for you.

Like most well intentioned folks (who suffer from horrible follow-through) I am currently preparing my New Year's Resolutions. Now I have been through them all...believe me. If I had been able to keep all my resolutions of the past years, I would be wealthy beyond my wildest dreams and lost around 1000 pounds by now. But such is not the case (keep the comments and snickers to yourself!) To my credit I would like to point out that I am better than average when it comes to keeping resolutions. According to the NY Times, 4 out of 5 of us will begin the New Year with plans to shake things up. A third of that idealistic number will have given up before the end of January; while over 3/4 of the remaining folks will be done by June. But being as advanced as I am, my current average is about 2 weeks. (While my record is 24 hours...but that should only be tackled by the seriously undisciplined among you.)

I will admit that someone more faint-at-heart might have been discouraged by such seeming failure. But I do not view this as failure, but only as years worth of learning what not to resolve. So for you other 3 in 5 out there, here is my advice to you about resolutions (hey, the New Year is still new enough you can change all you want to)....HAPPY 2011!!!

1) I will not resolve to lose weight. Now while my doctors, insurance company, and condescending skinny friends might point out that this should be my priority #1 for the coming year; I say to them all "let's eat cake!" Please understand that this is not some delusional statement. I realize that I am larger than most (again, shut it with the comments and smirks!).  I love the idea of "being skinny," I just don't love (nor can I apparently do) the "getting skinny" process.  The "getting skinny" process makes things harder. Eating healthy (or lack of) requires too much planning, too much shopping, and too little enjoying. Add that to the fact that healthy food is expensive as hell (yes, there, I said it....but I am getting passionate) and it just requires more effort than I can make happen in my typical week. Also, "getting skinny" requires lots of extra sweating...and as a fat man, I spend most of my day trying not to sweat.
   Instead I will resolve to be more mindful of my physical activity and my eating. I am gonna walk whenever I have the chance (mindful of the weather and time...hey, I am not crazy) and maybe even throw in some intentional walking for the heck of it (only one hell per blog...but that is anther resolution). I am also gonna make better choices about eating. To our credit, having a Type 1 child has improved our eating, but there are many ways I can and will do better. I might just order a salad at McDonald's next time...yeah, not really...but hey, Eupora is getting a Subway...watch out Jerrod!)

2) I will not resolve to STOP doing anything. Basically, I have no bad habits...well not many...well none as bad as some of you.   Anyway, we all have things we need to stop doing. We all have bad habits or addictions. For some they are huge things like smoking...if that is your vice, then ignore this and STOP!...seriously!   Anyway, while I am not going to regale you with a listing of my "needs improvement" areas (since preachers are as near perfect as possible). I will admit that I have areas that need some slight tweaking. But I have learned not to to say I am gonna stop. It just doesn't work. As soon as something is forbidden, it becomes even more desirable. So, this year I resolve to do some things better. I will focus my energy more. I will do fewer things and do them well; instead of more things in a mediocre way. I will focus more on people, instead of numbers. I will focus more on my faith (yes, even preachers need work in this area). And hopefully, by putting more effort into improving the good stuff; I will have less time and effort for the other....well, here is hoping!)

3) Finally, I will not resolve to change anything about my life. Instead, I will resolve to enjoy my life.   I am gonna enjoy the simple things that I have to this point been too busy to enjoy. I am gonna put more effort into being at home for dinner.  I am gonna take time to play Wii games with John (although he is gonna kick my butt and cause me huge amounts of frustration by refusing to work through the game in a linear and CORRECT fashion...and I am not gonna get mad about it ...PRAY PRAY PRAY). I am gonna take time to play outside with Joshua. Who knows, I might actually learn all the rules to soccer this year. I am gonna take time to play with Lucy and read more stories. I am gonna sit in the floor and play puzzles with Benjamin. I am gonna take my wife on lunch dates and make sure my small group prioritizes adult nights. I am gonna plan for Family Game Night and Family Movie Night. I am gonna joyfully tuck my children in at night (note that bedtime will be JOYFUL...I know that is it a pipe dream, but hey I am being idealistic here).

So there is my advice. And I have a sneaky suspicion that if I focus on #3; #1 and #2 will take care of themselves. So enjoy the New Year. Enjoy the fact that God is giving us another chance to get it right. Enjoy the blessings, endure the hardships, celebrate the gifts. 2011 is a year of incredible potential for us all. Let's make the best of it. And if you happen to see me ordering a salad as McDonald's, don't fear...it comes with an order of fries.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! Thanks for reading and all your comments. Hoping to be more regular in writing in 2011!

Also, for your New Year, and your focus on the simple things, here is a picture that sums it all up. My boy Ben and his beautiful handmade quilt by his Great Aunt Betty.

ALL THE DIFFERENCE

2010-11-10T23:27:00.002-06:00

"...I found the one my heart loves." Song of Solomon 3:4

I spend a lot of my time blogging about the church. That is because the church takes a lot of my time. I spend a lot of my time blogging about my children. That is because my children take a lot of my time (and patience, and money, and intelligence, and will to live...did I mention money?). But tonight, as I find myself utterly exhausted, yet still awake because I am sucked into a really bad British movie...I am feeling inspired to blog about someone who is always in the background of all of my blogs...the person who means the most to me, but sadly gets very little press....that would be my wonderful and loving "cookie-noodle-strudel-muffin-face-face-face"....my best friend and wife, Heather.

Heather and I met on a beautiful fall day (actually September 22, 1994) on the campus of MUW in front of Poindexter Hall. We were introduced by a common friend, who had bragged that I gave great hugs (I will forever owe her for that!) which provided the perfect opportunity to offer one of these special gifts to Heather. It was in that moment, with the sun highlighting her hair (which I thought upon first glance was blond) that I knew there was truly something special about her. While I am a hopeless romantic (or at least I used to be before children), I would not call it "love at first sight"...but I would call it DEFINITELY LIKE at first sight.

It would be over a year later before we had our first real "date," or at least it was a date for me. The same friend who had introduced us was at that time dating my best friend. She decided to play matchmaker between the two of us. After all, what could be more 'cute' than best friends dating best friends? So she set the time and date, and the guys set about planning the perfect night. One little thing to note. While I was fully aware that this was a double date, Heather had been informed that this, under no uncertain circumstances was NOT a date. You see, while being a guy at MUW lends itself to finding a girlfriend (guys were at that time outnumbers 5 to 1), most girls do not attend the W in search for a boyfriend. And not to say that my love was ever a 'fem-a-nazi', but she was (and is) a very strong self-assured woman (who did not NEED or WANT a man...that, my friends, is a direct quote). So, to put is simply, our friend told each of us what we wanted to hear.

The night started easy enough with a great dinner at a local hangout. Then came what the guys thought would truly be a night of romance. First came the blind folds. Now let me stop right here and say that as the father of a daughter, if my little precious angel face ever finds herself in a situation where a guy she really doesn't know suggests a blind fold to take her to a secret place, she better punch him in the face and run the hell away! But back to the story and the stupidity that is a college guy. We suggested blind folds to take them to a secret place we had set up. So being good sports (or perhaps just stupid!) they put on the blind folds (but to Heather's credit she did so with much protesting). We then drove them to this beautiful spot that overlooked the river where we were going to enjoy a bottle of sparkling cider under the stars (notice how good we were not drinking underage...well, at least not this time). But another thing that our starry-eyed romantic selves did not notice was that when we had done our initial setup in the beautiful field, we had done so wearing jeans, which made us completely unaware of all of the coco burr bushes that were that night discovered by the ladies as we dragged them blindly (remember the blindfolds) through them on the way to the perfect romantic spot. Then our beautiful night under the stars, ended up with Heather and I talking awkwardly about nothing while our friends found themselves attached at the face for what seemed like forever. But all in all, the night was somewhat salvageable. I did sing for her that night (something I used to do often....wonder why I stopped) and then found myself on my knees, in the gravel picking burs out of her socks, which she did find somewhat endearing. Then we returned back to campus where our friends again found themselves attached at that face while we said good night. And thus began our unlikely journey together.

Now, after all these years, after all we have lived through...I never cease to be amazed at the blessing of it all. Had we known then, in the midst of that miserable, fumbling excuse for a date that we would one day be old, married, and have a house full of kids; would it have changed it anything? I, for one, would not have changed a thing (except perhaps the coco burs...yeah, I would have definitely lost those). After all, it was on that beautiful fall day on the campus of the W that I "found the one my heart loves" and that has made all the difference.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! (OR WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE TO CALL THIS HOLIDAY OF SOMEWHAT MURKY ORIGINS AND MODERN COMMERICIALISM!)

2010-10-31T17:12:00.000-05:00

"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:11

Today is Halloween...that great and wonderful holiday that children adore and that gives all good Christian parents a slight tinge in the stomach because we have all had someone tell us that be celebrating Halloween we would go to Hell. Well, as a resident authority on the matter (sad that is what I have to be an authority on) I have never found where it says that Halloween will send you Hell. Most folks who end up there will get there for far worse things that overpriced costumes and increasing the business of the dentist.

So, I bravely say, HAPPY HALLOWEEN to all of you who are reading this (odds are anyone with real aversion to Halloween would not be reading, have been previously offended by something I have already said before.) As a kid, I both loved and loathed Halloween. I loved it because, hey, what is not to love about a holiday that promotes gorging yourself on candy (remember, it is only the apples that have razor blades...stay away from fruit, especially when there is candy). I also loathed it, because back in the day before Sam Walton's pioneering efforts, Halloween costumes where a lot more limited, especially for us "husky" kids (btw, fat jokes will send you to hell....check it out...book or Imitations...who says preacher's don't have a sense of humor). While of my friends where being He-Man and Batman, I was dressing as a "bum" (that is "husky" parent speak for whatever of your daddies hand-me-downs we can put together to fit ya). OK, let me leave childhood Halloween before I have to go back into therapy.

As a teen Halloween improved a great deal. Although I was never one of the really cool kids who spent Halloween night rolling yards (although you would be surprised how much tree I can cover with a good roll of Charmin) there was usually some Halloween Party at the Scout Hut that was good for a few hours. Then there was my favorite pastime of hiding on the dark porch of my house and watching the High School kids roll our neighbors yard (he was the athletic trainer) so he could seem all "omniscient" when he called them out the next day. This was also the way I learned the art of "forking a yard." (Right now someone is dying out laughing while the rest of you are saying 'What?')

But by far, Halloween as an adult is so much more fun. For starters, all my kids can fit into any costume they want which is loads of fun until you realize that the deluxe Batman costume is the same price as an oil change (which is long overdue...gotta remember that!) It is also fun because as a parent, it is your responsibility to check the safety of all the candy that comes into the house...(which is universal parent speak means pick out all the good stuff and toss all the stuff you know will make them sugar crazed). Finally, it is fun because it reminds me that Halloween today has nothing to do with witches and goblins and ghost; or even "good" candy(was mine the only house that had segregated candy..."good" candy for my friends and "other" candy for the kids we did not know?) and overpriced superhero apparel that might last through the night (at least I get 3000 miles with my Jiffy Lube). Halloween is about being a kid. It is about pretending and the best part of all is your get rewarded for pretending. Our kids live in a world that demands way to much reality. They live in a world of test scores and perfect behavior. A world that demands all the time and money that Momma and Daddy can give. A world that demands they be perfect little adults as much as possible. Then one night a year they get to be kids...kids to the extreme. They get to play dress up and its OK. They get to pretend to be people with supernatural powers and picture perfect lives. They get to have candy for dinner..and usually good candy at that. Oh, if only more of us had nights like Halloween, I think we all might be a little nicer.

So last night, after the Community Trunk-N-Treat (a great family event started by the Eupora First United Methodist Church and their really cool preacher!) I tucked in my candy crazed lunatics (boys only...Lucy missed Halloween sick...but that is another story) and thanked God that for a moment that got to be 100% kid. The world will quickly knock those percent points down when "real life" kicks in, but for one magical, mystical night my house was ruled by the two fiercest ninjas around...not to mention the cutest monkey ever (and we dearly missed our Queen Lucipatra).

Yep, and for those reasons I will always celebrate this wonderful holiday...HAPPY HALLOWEEN! (and save me the old school candy....Mary Janes - only good thing Necco makes - and Atkinson's Peanut Butter Bars)

DON'T SURVIVE....LIVE!

2010-10-27T22:51:00.001-05:00

"I came to give life - life in all its fullness"
John 10:10 NCV

Tonight was small group night, so of course I am feeling inspired (even without our dearest Maggie - whose 25th birthday, give or take a few years, is today). We were talking about how easy it is for us to get so caught up in the busyness of life, that we let the truly important things slip through the crack. I know, no one reading this can relate. You all have it together, all the time. (If anyone reading this can honestly say that, you are banned from ever reading my blog again because you either swimming DEEPLY in "de Nile" or a stepford - either way you are creeping me out!) But for those of us who live in the real world of jobs, groceries, bills, and kids; things get left out...it is a reality.

Case in point...it is 10:15pm. I know that because Heather was just flippin channels and Chelsea Lately is on (my dream is to have at least 1/2 as many Twitter followers as her dog chunk..so get following me and telling your friends - @revtreyharper) and I am thinkin..."It is after 10pm...what the hey!" Actually my mind did not say "hey." Sometimes I think I might confess too much..but hey, (that is a real "hey") it is my blog, my thoughts, my life...honesty is my policy. But, as usual, I digress. (that is why Twitter is good for me, you don't have enough characters to digress.)

So back to my day. It is after 10pm and I am wondering where my day has gone. My day started at 12am with a blood sugar check. Then although Lucy was sleeping in her brothers' bed, I went ahead and moved into her room because she will get up sometime around 2am and come and get me to move to her bed, so why not cut out the extra step. I lay down, only to get back up after about 15 minutes to get John some more cough syrup and move him into Lucy's bed with me so I can try and keep in propped up on pillows to help the cough. Now is it 1:30am and Heather comes to get me that Joshua is sick. So we get him cleaned up and get him a spit-up-bucket and move him to couch. Heather agrees to sit up with him until he falls asleep. Now it is 2am and guess who taps me on the shoulder..Lucy is wanting John out of her bed. So I move to John and Josh's bed with Lucy (after propping John up on the pillows again!) Now is it 3am and time for another blood sugar check....and all this before daylight.

Then comes 6am with wakeup and blood sugar check. Well, John and Ben are definitely headed to the pediatrician, so John is staying home today. Josh may need to go as well, so he stays home. Lucy's blood sugar is fine and we have no keytones (PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW), but I am not running carpool just for her (truancy officer - come and get me if you must!) So, we check on Josh, get John started on a breathing treatment, get all the kids deposited watching SpongeBob(hey, knock it if you want to, but sleep is worth it - if SpongeBob gives my children future issues, so be it - therapy is a covered expense). Thus, I lay back down in some bed (who knows at this point) for about 20 minutes - until the kids start whining about breakfast. So I get up and start making breakfast. Now it is 8am. I throw on some clothes and head to the office. After all, the work of the church never stops (and working with Christians is hard work!) I work on the bulletin, returns some emails, and work on the newsletter. Now it is noon.

Heather and the two boys have to head to Greenwood. I get them off, take a quick shower and then Josh, Lucy and I head to the grocery store. We come home, unpack the groceries, continue to pickup as I wonder through the house since the cleaning ladies just came Tuesday. (I am convinced my children will master Calculus before they master keeping their shoes in their closet). Now it is time for Children's choir. That also means small groups will start meeting soon and I need to get them some questions. A crying Lucy is deposited back at the house for ant bites. I comfort her, drop off small group questions. Now Heather and other kids are home. Somehow it is 5:45pm and burgers have to get on the grill for small group. Start the cooking process (try to cut off my finger cutting onions). Dinner - Small Group - Bedtime (and all the hell that entails) - which brings us to 10:30pm and "what the hey!"

Now in the midst of all of that chaos did anyone see "pray" or "read the Bible" or "meditate on the goodness of God," or "say something loving to the children," or "kiss the wife." I will save you the reread - NOPE! Which was the point. We get so caught up in the busy stuff, that the important stuff falls through the crack. And folks, that is not how God intends us to live.

Jesus did not say "I have come to help you muddle through" or "I have come so you might have a fighting chance in the life stuff." Jesus said "I have come so you can live with "fullness." A life FULL of grace, and joy, and peace, and breathing space. A life FULL of laughter, and friends, and family and contentment. A life FULL of all that is good with life is what Jesus promised, but this issue is that we have to be willing to STOP and embrace it.

So that is my resolution - I am gonna stop trying to SURVIVE life and start LIVING life. Or at least I am gonna put that on the top of my "To Do List"...or at least in the top 5...

Longing for an "Old School" Saturday Morning

2010-10-23T09:38:00.000-05:00

"All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you." Psalm 38:9

I want to believe that this is a universal problem in all households, but it may just be in mine. On any given weekday morning, waking my family up for school is like pulling teeth from an angry bear...actually, I would rather face the bear most mornings. When the alarm goes off, thus begins the cacophony (look at that big word..hope I used it right) of whinin and witchin and moanin and grunting, which quickly escalates into beggin and pleadin and yellin and threatenin....(I know it is probably not wise to admit on the great wide web that I threaten my children with being "beat into next week" or "sold to the gypsies for 1/2 price" - btw, does anyone know where I can find any gypsies...just asking) Now throw in breakfast, teeth brushing (which to an 8yr old boy is like askin him to write a dissertation on the eschetalogical expectation of the Apocalypse - 3 parts whinin and 1 part "huh?") dressing and packing for school and our house is chaos to say the least. When we finally get out the door, our lives resemble less "Leave it to Beaver - gonna miss you June!" and more "Honey, I Sold the Kids to the Gypsies" - think that movie went straight to VHS.

Weekdays mornings are hell, pure and simple. Then comes Saturday morning, when my kids are up, happy, playful and LOUD!!!! at 6AM, if not before. There are actually some morning that I awaken to the blaring music of Jason Aldean and off-key singing - btw, Big Green Tractor was cute the first time around...now, I want to shoot John Deer. At first, I wondered who are these kids and why are they in my house? Did we leave the door unlocked and someone swiped our kids. Where are the kids who appreciate sleep? Where are the kids who beg to stay in the bed? But no, they are my wife's DNA (at times like this I just wish their real daddy would show up....just kidding...)

Having been a kid once (back in the dark ages of the Ronald Reagan administration) I fondly remember Saturday mornings. I know that children are internally wired to wake early on morning when it is not necessary. But what I do not understand is this need to be LOUD! Maybe I feared my parents more than my kids fear me, but we were NEVER LOUD on Saturday mornings (of course my Dad was usually up at the crack of down anyway - did NOT inherit that trait). Saturday mornings, back in the day, where quiet, peaceful times in the Harper home. A time when children woke and quietly went to the den to watch the Smurfs or Gummie Bears or O.G. Readmore and the Weekend Special (which was always some movie about teens and drugs - or was that the After School specials - either way thanks Nancy Reagan!). We were simply content to enjoy the TV time and let everyone take the day at their own pace.

So this morning when my kids were fighting over who was properly "using the force" on Lego Star Wars for Wii; or when Josh and Ben were running that cursed little purple monkey car toy through the bedroom; or when Ben was screaming at the top of his lungs for his Momma to pick him up while she was frantically making Jack-O-Lantern pancakes for a family that is not really crazy about pancakes (but they ate them, not so joyfully or gratefully, but they ate them); I was laying in the bed with the only child who has any sense (Lucy still appreciates the need for sleep - bless her - if I had not already promised Ben the largest part of the inheritance because of his lack of baby pictures, it would be hers - hands down!) I was longing for the peaceful "old school" Saturdays when life was simple - and need I mention again - QUIET!!!

A Smorgasbord of Thoughts....I think that is how ya spell it.....

2010-10-20T22:10:00.000-05:00

"Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." 1 John 4:11

Usually my blogs are either about the church or my children. After all, those are the two things that bring me both the most joy and the most heartache. But tonight, I want to talk about one of my joys from simply being an adult...my small group!! Well DANG (look at me censoring) small groups are somewhat about church...we do talk about Jesus (most of the time), but somehow at small group I am rarely the preacher, I am usually just Trey (who happens to be the one qualified to pray and speak to all things spiritual). Anyway, I love our small group.

One of the dearest treasures we have in our small group is our ability to provide a place where we can be open and honest. It is place where we can strongly (sometimes that is an understatement) disagree, but then leave loving each other as much as when we arrived. Although sometimes marital relations might be slightly strained, but for the most part we are not too worse for the wear.

I also love that our small group is a place that eats well. While we cannot always say that about what we feed our children (hey, at least they get fed!) but we always eat good. Especially because our small group has our own personal resident chef (whose paying job as an architect is taking up WAY TO MUCH TIME at the moment). We firmly believe that the reason her food is so amazing (lets just say her Lemon Yummies are the perfect example of what happens when lemons meet Jesus) is because it is so filled with her inner goodness. That inner goodness that the rest of us had before children sucked the very joy and life and light out of our lives!(Can you tell it has been a hard day?)

Anyway, with regards to small group that is what I got. They are great! (Na Na Na Na Na..my small group is better than yours). It has also led me to realize the importance of having a safe group of folks who can share this journey of life by loving and supporting and surrounding us with Christian faith. Be Warned Eupora FUMC folks reading this (and that better be LOTS AND LOTS of you!) The preacher is feeling a Christian Education itch coming on....everyone needs a Sunday school class or small group, or some group that lets you learn and grow and love.... (There I go with the church stuff again!)

But this is a Smorgasbord of thoughts, so now that I have talked about being a grown-up (and as always a preacher) I might as well throw in a kid moment...namely, I am feeling a HUGE amount of angst now that my 8 year old is getting phone calls. Now I cannot remember when I discovered the novelty of talking to friends on the phone, although being a guy and considering it was prehistoric (re:pre-internet and cell phones

...actually pre bag phones - now that shows age) times I am sure it was much older than 8. But last night while I was cooking dinner the phone rang. I answered it to this soft sweet child voice, asking ever so politely (must be a Baptist child) is he could "please speak to Josh"...the commenced the most frustrating 5 minutes of phone time in history. For those of you who do not know, the phone calls of 8 yr old boys consist of an opening of "what are you doing" followed by a reply of "nothing" followed by many awkward moments of listening to each other breathing peppered with the occasional random useless questions that always result in the same answer "I don't know."

Anyway, although this apparent lack of purpose and verbal skills does cause me (a father who makes his living with words) a decent amount of stress; the main stress comes in that I DON'T KNOW THE RULES!!! Is this OK? It is OK for my kids to call others? What are the time constraints involved? Back in the day, dinner time was the universal cutoff for all communication under 18. Does that still apply? And what about the fact that many families don't have house phones? Is it OK for my 8 yr old to be calling Mom or Dad's cell phones? I NEED HELP!!! Actually I need help in lots of things right now, but this is as good a place to start as any.

So there you have it, my random thoughts...a little something for everyone. Just think of it as "Food Fest" (a Heather word for buffets) for the brain or soul or both..but without the warmer lights of course.

Leave It To Beaver

2010-10-16T21:49:00.005-05:00

"therefore wisdom and knowledge will be given you." 2 Chronicles 1:12

Tonight's blog is nothing but pure and unadulterated parental braggadocio...(look at me using those big words). But before I begin, I want to take a moment to offer some "somewhat sincere" apologies to my friends from Choctaw County...OK, I do sincerely apologize to those of you who were offended by my humor at your expense in the Soccer Dad post...I do not, however, apologize that our team whipped up all over your team...that my friends is not conjecture...it is cold, hard fact...

Anyway, back to bragging. Tonight we were gonna have family movie night (which got side-tracked by a great documentary on Harry Potter...34 days and counting!!!) So to decide between the two candidates ("Milo and Otis" or the "Secret of Nimh") we played group Rock-Paper-Scissors. My kids love this game.

I can remember when we first taught John and Josh how to play when they were little. The loved nothing more than using their 'scissors' to trim our 'papers.' That would laugh in that way which requires the usage of their entire little bodies. Needless to say, they got to do this a lot. Partly because I would always do paper so they would laugh...partly because they always did scissors.

Anyway, they still get a little 'cracked out' whenever we play. So after "Milo and Otis" had one by a vote of three rocks to two scissors, John and Josh continued to play in that 8 year old boy fashion which requires physically punching and hurting each other as a result of a win. When in the middle of this proverbial battle, John (in his incredible creativity and intellect that only comes from being his Father's son) changes the rules from Rock-Paper-Scissor to "Log-Beaver-Beaver Trap." The Log break the beaver trap...the beaver trap catches the beaver (or chops the beaver in 8yr old boy world) and the beaver chops the log...

I know, you are all as impressed as I am right now. Take a moment...catch your breath...be amazed at the intellectual prowess that you have just witnessed via this completely unbiased eye witness account...

OK, that is really all I have to say...nothing profound...just that my kid rocks! Yep, he is my kid right now. In a few moments when he does something that infuriates the heck outa me (which he will most certainly do since this is his most powerful innate ability) he will once again be his mother's child. But for now, he is mine, and he is the best!!!!

It's All About Kids Having Fun.....Right?

2010-10-12T22:56:00.001-05:00

"Train children to live in the right way, and when they are old, they will not stray from it." Proverbs 22:6

Confession time....I can be one of those dads. You have all seen them before. Crazed look in their eyes as they frantically pace the sideline. Urging on their kids to athletic perfection (and I do mean being supportive...I have no patience for dads and moms who yell at their kids) all the while wishing some small harm (nothing fatal or lasting) on the opposing teams best players. I know that may come as a surprise to many of you. No one would expect "the preacher" to act like this (hush, Corey). But it is true. I am one of those dads. But let is also be noted that I work really hard at controlling myself and have yet to fully go over to the dark side...well, at least not yet. Talk to me come baseball season...

Anyway, I am one of those dads and we are in the middle of soccer season. First, a note about small town Mississippi soccer. I have two nephews who live in Jackson and play travel soccer (shout out to Garrett and Kip...now who is the best uncle???) I also have a beautiful niece (hey Shelby!) who played travel soccer and apparently was quite a force on the field...although to meet this little beauty who weighs all of 5 pounds soakin wet, it is hard to believe.

I am digressing...sorry, it is late. Anywho...small town soccer, at least Eupora soccer is nothing like this big city craziness that has embraced by nephews and niece. Small town soccer is all about learning first, improving second. Part of this is because in small town Mississippi we have very few adults who understand soccer. Luckily, our boys (John and Josh are both playing this year) have a great coach (also a Mom...small town sports always have parent coaches...and it is also not a requirement that the parent even understand the game...usually just a kind soul who is willing to be in charge) who actually gets soccer. So our kids are not just having fun, but actually learning the game to...at least Joshua is...John is sorta-kinda-but not really having fun...but that is a different story.

So basically, with the exception of the kids and coaches who get it; small town soccer is lots of kids running around with soccer balls trying not to kill each other until flag-football season starts. And when you have parents (many unlike me who do not struggle with WWJD when that little blond kid scores again....some oughta take him out...to McDonalds...that is what I meant, of course) there will always be problems. One of our dearly beloved friends, Faye, who ran the preschool in Atlanta where Heather worked used to say to her teachers..."teaching would be easy if it was not for parents." I am sure most teachers and career coaches would agree. But when you have parent-volunteer coaches that line can be shot to hell.

OK, there I go digressing again. So back to the story. Our boys are playing soccer and this is the first year that we have traveled to play. We are playing the soccer teams from Ackerman. OK, I need to digress for another moment..hey, it is my blog..get used to it! Eupora and Ackerman have been rivals since the beginning of time. This is a rivalry that is not just about towns, but also about counties. Basically, Choctaw County wishes to be Webster County and since they can't they are hacked (hey, if I have any Choctaw readers, you have to admit you would say the reverse). So this rivalry not only runs through High School sports (like the annual murder of the Indian mascot on Main Street during the town-wide pep rally that traumatized my 2 year old daughter) but also into city league too. As one father on one of the Eupora teams put it.."it is OK to be happy you beat the other Eupora team...as long as you beat Ackerman..that is the only thing that really matters." You get my point.

OK, I promise, on with the story. We are playing Ackerman and due to parents (not pointing any fingers, but they are not ours) it is getting nasty. From debates over kids ages, to player numbers, to ref calls...it is vastly getting ridiculous. Just in the past week it is now spiraling out of control until player substitution on teams is running ramped (that means coaches on all sides are mixing teams to pull each teams best players)...it is kinda like soccer all stars in mid season. Now throw in overly aggressive parents and you have a recipe for disaster.

As we were leaving the park after the latest face off (which Eupora won...again) one of the Moms looked over at me and said, "It's All About Kids Having Fun...Right?" I had to stop. She was right. All the problems we are facing and all of the drama that has enveloped our season has absolutely nothing to do with our kids. I mean we can try and dress it up by saying we are trying to do what is fair for them. We can try to cover our own out of control competitive natures with talk of justice and giving our kids a fair shake. But the reality is, because of pscho-parents (myself sometimes included) all we are teaching our kids is that winning is what is most important no matter the cost. We are teaching our little ones that if you do not like the rules, change them. And Lord forgive us for all the other lessons in behavior, language, and anger management that are also being taught by some.

So from one "Team Parent" to all of the rest of you psychos out there...stop for a moment and ask yourself...how many of you would beat the tar out of your kids if you saw them acting like you act on game night? Because guess what folks...for better or worse...one day they will be you! And when that day comes we will have no one to blame but ourselves. So lets all take a breath and let the kids have fun...and who knows, we might just remember what fun is in the process.

By the way, EUPORA IS #1...(sorry, I just can't help it)

NEVER Trust Your Children

2010-10-10T23:00:00.002-05:00

"Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth." Proverbs 27:1

One of the golden rules of parenting is "Never say Never." Before Heather and I had children, like most non-parental type adults, we were experts on children. Our children would always be well behaved. Our children would always be polite. Our children would be the crowning example of childhood and parenting perfection. Others would stop and point to our family and say, "Oh, if only we could be as the Harpers." Yes, that was a kinder time. That was a more patient time. That was a time that is truly, "Gone With the Wind." (Thanks Mrs. Mitchell!)

But whenever your life is blessed with your first little blessing (or blessings) you quickly learn that when it comes to children, YOU DON'T KNOW SQUAT! You also learn that part of the creation of this perfect little bundle of joy is an innate ability to push all your buttons, prove you wrong at all costs, and make a liar out of you for the rest of your days. This is not an ability that children learn. It is truly something that is bred into every fiber of their blessed little beings. I have a theory that it is a special continuation of "the curse of the Fall" that the writers of Genesis purposely left out so as not to endanger the human race. I mean if people knew before parenting just a fraction of the reality that is to come following the birth of God's greatest gifts, we all know the population would be A LOT smaller...but I digress.

My children were double blessed with this irritating ability to make me eat all of my pompous pre-parenting boasts. To my beautiful, talented, and brilliant wife's credit, she worked with kids and she did not nearly boast as much as I did (but don't let her fool ya..she was a preschool teacher...she was a pro!)

But as I said, my kids excel in their ability to make a liar out of dear old dad. Case in point...this past Wednesday. It started as any other day. The weather was great. The big kids were in school. I went to the office to be greeted by yet another series of messages about low batteries in our alarm system. Now this particular problem has been going on for some time, but we just never saw the need in spending the MASSIVE amount of money to have the alarm checked out. So we lived with it. But now, the alarm monitoring station was harassing members of the Board of Trustees, so the time had come to get it fixed. We called the alarm company in Columbus and told them I was making a trip to see them and buy the necessary batteries for the system. At least we would save the service call.

I came back to the house to tell Heather what I was doing and told her that she and Ben needed to come with me. We could do a little blue jean shopping for the kids (in our house, only kids get new clothes), I would get the batteries, we could have lunch. It would be good just to get away.

My wife, in all her wisdom asks, "But shouldn't someone be here in case they need us for Lucy?" But Lucy had been fine all week, and our teachers are pros at handling low blood sugar...and when it comes to high blood sugar, now that she is on the insulin pump (OMNIPOD IS GREAT!...now if they would like to send me a check for that plug I would be ever so grateful) is it alot easier to manage. I told her she would be fine and we needed the outing.

So off to Columbus we go. To make a long story just a hair shorter, the trip was a waste. The batteries were not there, the alarm people did not understand, lunch was not that great. So we head home in time to meet the kids as they get off the bus.

About 20 miles outside of Eupora, my cell rings and it is Mrs. Pittman, Lucy's teacher. Lucy had gotten up from nap and she was low and she was being difficult about drinking her juice (I know, my precious little angel cookie face...difficult...challenges the imagination...) Heather talked to Mrs. Pittman, and talked to Lucy about drinking her juice. We told her we would just come straight to the school and get her. Just make her drink and we would be there quickly. Although this was not truly an emergency, I put on the flashers and to Eupora we fly.

As we are turning off HWY 82 into Eupora, the cell rings again. Lucy is now unresponsive. Her blood sugar has apparently bottomed out. The ambulance has been called. Heather talks the teachers through giving her the Glucagon shot. All of the denied and suppressed fears of parenting a child with diabetes come to a head in a single moment of time as we race through Eupora to the school. We arrive about 2 minutes before the ambulance. Lucy is still unresponsive, but she has color returning (did I fail to mention she had stopped breathing...). I sit her in my lap and try to force juice down her throat. We check her blood sugar. The Glucagon has worked. It is now 185.

The EMTs arrive and assess her. She is still basically unresponsive, but we know we are out of danger. I load her into the ambulance and they take us to the ER.

Now skip to the end. Lucy is better. We met with her doctor in Jackson on Friday and they made adjustments to her pump. She is still the bravest little girl I know. I already have an account with the hospital, so they can just add this new bill to it. Tonight, everyone is again resting safe and sound under our roof. Everyone, that is but me...the Daddy who said everything would be fine and then got a ride in an ambulance.

Yep, never count on your children to make life easy for ya. It is not in them. I blame their maternal DNA. Don't ask Heather her opinion.....

Lesson of Grace....Who wants to go to Italy?

2010-10-04T21:57:00.000-05:00

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9

I am a secure enough man to admit that from time to time I enjoy a good "chick flick" or "chick read." Now for all of my feminist friends, remember I am a proud graduate of the Mississippi University for Women, so I have a "get out of jail free card" when it comes to cultural gender faux pas like "chick."

Anyway, back to my story. I am currently reading "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. My motivation is mainly two fold. First, I am motivated by the movie and the fact that it stars the incredibly beautiful Julia Roberts. I have always had a thing for Julia. Now I know there are some of you who would disagree with me on this point, but save your arguments. Yes, I know she has big teeth. Yes, I know she is Buddhist...but hey, I do not want to marry her; I just want to ...well, I better just stop there.

Perhaps it is residual infatuation from the Pretty Woman years, but whatever the reason, she is part of the reason I started reading this book. The other reason is that it was available. Heather and I are both avid readers and we often find ourselves reading through books so fast, that sometimes you have to take whatever is at hand. This book was in the bathroom when I needed a book. Enough said.

But I digress. As girly as this book may be, it is truly a wonderful book. I highly recommend it. Not only is Ms. Gilbert a great writer, but she also has found such wonderful, poignant and simple ways to discuss the often complex a subject of faith. Her candid openness about her own spiritual journey is enlightening and all I can say is...Elizabeth, you would make a great United Methodist!. Consider this an open invitation.

One particular moment as she details her life in Italy (by the way, I am not a huge fan of Italian food, but this book is making me change not only my perspective but also my palette...seriously good writing...I not only crave every morsel she describes, but I too want to travel to Italy and learn to talk about this amazing food in Italian....maybe I need to talk to someone about this....)

Anyway, she is talking about her sister and recounts this profound moment. A family in her sister's neighborhood had undergone some tragedy (no spoilers here) and Liz (the author) makes the comment "That family needs grace" to which her sister responds, "that family needs casseroles" and then promptly organizes the community to help feed this family/ (we all know her sister would make a stellar Methodist too). Upon reflection Liz writes, " I do not know if my sister fully recognizes that this is grace." (90-91).

Not to my point...what a profound (and might I add very Wesleyan) understanding of grace. We as followers of Christ as called not only to proclaim the good news of the Grace of God with our words, but more importantly to live the Grace of God in our actions. And living this grace does not have to be difficult, it just has to be faithful.

Challenge for all of us: How are you living grace in your life? Who needs to see grace alive in theirs? What are you waiting for?

"Fit" for the Kingdom

2010-10-03T00:31:00.000-05:00

"Jesus replied, 'No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the Kingdom of God." Luke 9:62

Right now I am the only one up in my household. Actually, considering that it will be officially be Sunday morning in approximately 26 minutes, I really am being foolish. After all, everyone knows that Sundays are the only day that preacher's work. (If any of you 8-5 folk believe that, I have some "ocean front property in Arizona" - look at me and the country music reference).

Anyway, even though I am exhausted and should have been in bed long ago, nevertheless I am sitting in the floor of the living room typing to you good folks. I just needed to share with someone that today was a great day.

Today (after the wonderful plumbers came and fixed the leak that has been quadrupling our water bill for the past two months...well, we hope that it is fixed...with leaks who ever knows) we loaded up the family and went to our old stompin' ground of Carrollton for the Pilgrimage Festival. It was a great day seeing so many of our old friends from the church and community. Everyone marveled at how big our children had grown....how beautiful our Benny is....how much we have not changed (because they are good southerners who know it is the height of rudeness to ever tell someone they are older and fatter). We ate some wonderful BBQ at the Carroll County Market and even spent a few minutes just swingin' in a former neighbors swing (well, at least Heather and the kids did while I cleaned out the van). But as we were pulling out of Carrollton headed back to Eupora, I couldn't help but think how strange it was that Carrollton just didn't fit anymore...or maybe I should say we don't fit in Carrollton anymore.

We spent six wonderful years as a part of that community, and although we never doubted for a moment that God was calling us to a new place and ministry, we left Carroll County always feeling that it would be, for us, like home. After all, it was where John and Josh and Lucy were all born and baptised. It is in its hallowed ground that we laid our Eli to rest. It was there, behind it ancient pulpits, that I learned a little about ministry and a whole lot about life. It was in its loving embrace that we became parents and adults (and perhaps truly in that order). These were the folk that celebrated with us our greatest joys and mourned our deepest sorrows. It is the place where one day my weary body will be a laid to rest. It is a huge part of me. So why did I feel so out of place?

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus is faced with a potential follower who makes a simple request..."give me a moment to say goodbye to my family." I mean surely, Jesus, since I am going to be following you to the end of the world, surely you can give me 5 minutes to say goodbye. Easy request I would think. But Jesus has a different response. He says, "No." If you want to go back home than you can't follow me. If you want one more moment of your past life, than you cannot have a new one with me.

For years this statement has baffled me. I have heard countless great theologians, bible scholars, and preachers (after all I am an Emory grad) work to explain the "underlying current of the immediacy of the Gospel" that is the heart of this rebuke of the Savior. But even with these great and wonderful thoughts, it was not until today that I got it.

You know, sometimes I think there are things about faith that you will never fully understand or believe until you experience them yourself. Today, at least for me, I understood exactly why Jesus said no. And believe me, it is not an easy lesson to learn or accept.

Life is not about where you have been, who you were, or what you have done...but life (abundant life) is about where you are going. For some of us with lots of baggage, this is truly a moment of grace. But at the same time, for many of us with a past filled with joy and happiness, that is hard pill to swallow. But Kingdom living is forward living. It is about constantly moving toward what is better. When we stop moving, we stop living. When we, as people of faith, stop living then the Kingdom dies.

Another example. Tonight I was part of a wonderful exhibit at the BLY Gallery sponsored by Belinda Stewart Architects and Eupora Arts (of which I am a board member...free time...what is free time?) This exhibit, called "ART-ifacts" is a collection of amazing photos detailing the past of Webster County and its towns. It was such a joy to see all those beautiful old pictures of the town I now love. There are so great aerial shots from the 50's and one that was taken at some point when a carnival was in town. The town then is so very different from the town now. The vast expanses of empty factory and warehouse space that now fill the industrial park was once a huge seasoning lot for the dominant lumber business that existed then. There was a literally a forest where the hospital stands now. Fields ripe for harvest grew up to the doorsteps of familiar old homes. It was a town of possibility... a possibility that never would have been realized if the timber and farming barons of the 40's and 50's had not given way to the manufacturing boom that was the 60's and 70's.

Which (finally) brings me to my point. Jesus was saying to the would be follower, I can't have you looking back, because looking back might make you realize you are content with life as it is now. And there is nothing more dangerous to the Kingdom than contentment. Contentment keeps us where we are. Contentment keeps us frozen in time, even though time will never stand still.

In this beautiful town I love, contentment in the golden days of the manufacturing, has now become a placid acceptance of "the way things are" in these days when small industry is but a memory. In the wonderful and loving church I serve and adore, contentment has kept us focused on "holding our own" instead of fearlessly transforming our community. In my own ministry, contentment has often led me to focus on just being a good preacher instead of being a passionate Kingdom visionary. In life, we are often so ready to fully embrace mediocrity, because frankly abundant living takes too much work.

Now before you history fiends get crazy, let me clarify that understanding where we came from is vital to people, churches and communities. Honoring the brave men and women who paved the way for us in our families, churches, and communities is vital is helping us remember who we are and what we were created to do. But we must never allow ourselves to "rest on the laurels" that were not of our own creating. While we honor the past, we cannot live it. And living in the past, or worst yet, refusing to live into the future, is the worst way we can honor those who have gone before.

And now, before you contented folks get all riled up, I know that contentment can be a good thing. Actually, the Bible says many times that we should seek contentment (see, I do read the Bible...Philippians 4:10-13, I Timothy 6:6-9, Hebrew 13:5). But notice that in each of these instances (to name a few) the contentment is in the things God provides, godliness, and the things not of this world. When it comes to Kingdom matters, we should never be content until we have fulfilled God's Kingdom.

And, to you just plain tired folks, before you get in a snit...I understand. I am a preacher, community worker, and father of 900 children (actually 4 but sometimes it feels like 900)...I understand tired. I am also the grandson of small delta farmers and laborers and the son of "salt of the earth, blue collar folks," so I also understand that tired is no excuse from working hard.

Finally, to anyone else who may be offended. God loves you. I love you. Let's just love each other.

There is a Kingdom waiting to be realized, and it is waiting on us. Are we willing to get off our proverbial (and literal) derrieres and find it? If not, we are truly "not fit" to call ourselves followers of Christ.

Wrapped in Love

2010-09-30T13:14:00.000-05:00

"I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings" Psalm 61:4

This morning is was downright cold. Who knows, we might just have autumn yet. Although I have lived in Mississippi long enough to know that we will always have at least one more HOT spell before the weather finally changes. But I will enjoy the cooler weather I can. Yesterday, my beloved and devoted and oh so wonderful wife (who I hope is reading this) went through winter clothes from last year so we could start the process of seeing what will carryover and what will need to be replaced. I am not sure if you kids (for those who have them) are like mine, but it is usually a whole lot less on the carryover list than on the new list.

So, being the horrible parents we are, we tortured our children into trying on all those old things to see what would fit. (At this point, if DHS wants to pick them up for child abuse, I can have them all packed in 20 minutes...but mind you, State of MS, you have to take them all!!!) We actually have a few more stacks to go through, but one can only take so much whining before you want to commit murder..and personally I am not looking for a state paid vacation in Parchman. But I digress...(as usual)

So, we are making the progress in our home preparing for winter weather, which includes adding our children's quilts to their beds. For those of you who do not know about our special quilts...here is the story. For those that do...play along with the rest of us..it is just nice manners.

My Mamaw (my Dad's mom), like most of the farm wives of her generation, was a quilter. Growing up, quilt pallets on the floor where a staple in our house and at the farm. Those quilts, stained by my generation (we won't go any further than that) are now being enjoyed by our children. But as a special gift of love, Mamaw made a special quilt for each of her grandchildren as a gift when they left home (or maybe it was HS graduation...but isn't that when you are supposed to leave home?) All of the other grandkids got to pick which one they wanted, starting with my sister because she was the oldest (YEP...SAID IT PROUDLY....YOU ARE THE OLDEST!!!) But I did not get a choice. Being the only grandson to carry on the Harper name, I had a special quilt made just for me with the letter H in each square (H is for Harper for those who may be a little slow on the uptake). So, John being the oldest child, will one day inherit the H quilt, although he already calls it "his quilt", I ain't dead yet. Perhaps he better work on the school attitude a little ...but again, I digress and he is not reading this so no need to waste good parental wrath.

As another very special gift of love for the namesake grandchild (that is me!) I also received a beautiful wedding ring patterned quilt when I got married. This quilt was pieced by my great-grandmother and quilted by my Mamaw and entrusted to my Aunt Betty for safe keeping until I got married. This treasure has been designated for Joshua as the second child. Glad he loves "his quilt" (see above NOT BEING DEAD comment) because it may be the only inheritance he gets!

But miraculously we kept having children (I really need to look into what causes that)...thus came Lucy. As Lucy got older she wanted to know where "her quilt" was...after all, being the princess of the world has to have all the perks. So Aunt Betty came to the rescue and gifted Lucy with a very special quilt. Although I am sure pattern has a name, Lucy calls it the "Umbrella Lady" quilt. This quilt was actually made for and used by my Aunt Betty, and she loves Lucy enough to give her own special quilt.

And now we have Ben (medically insured to be the last or I will own an OBGYN practice), and as the last child, he will just have to deal. After all, he has no shoes, clothes, or stuff of his own (not that he wants any of the above) anyway. I just tell him that I will make up for his being the baby by leaving him more in my will. Which right now should buy him breakfast at McDonald's if he orders from the dollar menu. But I am sure that one day we can search the family homes and come up with a special quilt just for the littlest of the Harper clan.

Every winter, as I tuck my kiddos in under the warm cotton of their quilts, I imagine in my mind that they are getting special hugs from my Mamaw, delivered straight from Heaven. And having been the recipient of many of those in my years, I know what a treasure they are.

Here is hoping lots of warm loved filled hugs for all of you in the coming fall and winter (if they ever truly arrive!)

Cure For Bad Parenting: Harper Family Secret

2010-09-28T22:26:00.000-05:00

"But where sin increased, grace increased all the more..." Romans 5:20

Today was a bad parenting day. One of those days when I walked in my parental rightness in the morning, only to be finding myself groveling for forgiveness to my children in the afternoon...well maybe grovel is a strong word...after all, since the invention of the Dollar General or the French Fry (if anyone comments about Freedom Fries I will block you) do parents really even have to make verbal apologies anymore? But, as usual, I digress.

Back story: I was gone Wednesday and Thursday of last week and returned home Friday afternoon because of Mom's surgery. Let me pause here for a moment and remind the world how amazing my wife is for so many ways, including the ease with which she is often a "single parent." Anyway, when I checked in Friday morning, Lucy had been sick so Heather let her stay home from school so we could manage her blood sugar. For those non-diabetic folks out there (I despise you...just kidding) illness is hell on glucose levels. But, as with all children, the illness which keeps them from school is never manifest at home. She seemed fine. But, this continued yesterday and then again this morning. So, I, in my parental rightness decreed that what Lucy had was a little drainage, some somewhat high morning blood sugars and a huge case of the "I don't wanna go to school" bug. But, we needed a docs excuse for school, so we went to the pediatrician. Remember the good old days when it did not cost you $20 bucks to get an excused absence?

So off to Greenwood she and I went to sit in the Walk in Clinic to see our family pediatrician. The whole time, I am stewing over the colossal waste of time and money. We all know she is making this up just to stay at home. Well, today that will end. She better be sick or I will give her something to be sick about (yep, channeling all those generations of bad parent indignation!) So finally we get into see the doc and guess what...she is sick. Yep, my little angel princess had a sinus infection..now while it wasn't one of those infections that compels a "Yikes!" from the doctor, followed by a note to the nurse to call DHS...Lucy's infection did earn a "Yep, that's an infection" which is almost just as bad...although not sure they take away your kids for a "Yep!"

So here I am, having falsely accused by innocent angel of being a con-artist, meanwhile she is sick and I had no idea. Yep, bad parenting at its best! So, how do you make up for bad parenting? FRENCH FRIES of course (and a healthy dose of insulin in our case)

So for all of you perfect parents out there (those being people who yet to have kids of their own), yes, I broke lots and lots of Dr. Spock's commandments today. I will not be receiving the Nobel Prize for Parenting for yet another year (now that right there is worth a million from Mr. Nobel). But, we survived and neither of us seem to be too worse for the wear. After all, it is important not only to forgive our children, but also to provide them opportunities to bestow forgiveness...that's right, this was a teaching moment...and a pretty good one I might add. So Nobel Committee, you better dust off my application and give it another look...you might be surprised to find that I have discovered the real secret to world peace....a simple "I am sorry" and French Fries....ah, the world would be a better place!

Eli Day

2010-09-27T23:08:00.000-05:00

"I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow." Jeremiah 31:13

Today is September 27, 2010 and is the 8th Eli Day for our family, and I almost missed it. For those of you who are unfamiliar with "Eli Day," I will gladly fill you in. I am actually considering petitioning the president to make it a federal holiday, Lord knows we do not have enough of those. But this holiday would have mandatory celebratory requirements. It must be celebrated with a picnic, with those you love, in a cemetery of your choice (preferable one where someone dear to you is buried - most especially one with lots of great headstones for your children to climb on). At least, that is the way our family celebrates...but I digress.

On September 4, 2002, Heather and I welcomed into our lives our triplets boys..John, Joshua, and Elijah. They were born at 27 weeks gestation (for those of you non medical folks that means TEENSY TINY..think that is the official term) We had been in a car accident on our way home from Heather's 6 month checkup and she went into premature labor. Three weeks later, after a long and exhausting and scary week on the L&D floor, we welcomed our baby boys..weighing a collective 6lbs 3 ozs! As we watched out little transparent babies under plastic wrap in the NICU, we knew they had a long hard road to going home...but we never doubted they would come home.

On September 27, 2010, after having contracted a staph infection our little Eli went home...just not to our address. I have heard people talk about the darkness of depression. I have heard people talk about the pain of loss. I have heard people talk about despair. None of those experiences can or could begin to touch the emotions that come with losing your child...but that is another story for another time.

As John and Joshua continued to grow and thrive, Heather and I made a pact that we would do everything we could so that Eli would always be a part of our collective memory and family. So on September 27th, 2003 we took our boys for their first Eli Day picnic at Evergreen Cemetery where he is buried...and thus has been our tradition through these 8 years and two additional children...until this year. Eli Day fell on a Monday and we knew the boys had soccer games, so this year we had an early Eli Day two weekends ago. We packed our picnic and gathered in Evergreen to celebrate the life of our precious baby. While the celebration went south rather quickly (namely fire ant bites all over Lucy's feet) we still had our picnic, talked about "E" and put our fresh flowers. As we drove home that day we talked about maybe doing a little something special on the 27th...just us.

Then, came life. Mom had surgery. The church had Homecoming. I had a Board of Medical Benefits Meeting. Boys had soccer. We came home, showered, and put the kids to bed. Just another crazy day in the life of the Harpers...until I opened my email.

My Aunt Betty in Tennessee understands the wounds we carry, having lost a child as well. And she, being the blessedly wonderful and thoughtful person she is, sent me an email saying she was thinking of me today. When I first read it, I thought, "wait, she has the date wrong..." and then it hit me...today was Eli Day. I mentioned it to Heather, who had of course not forgotten, but ended up remembering alone.

Today was Eli Day, and I almost missed it. I almost missed the opportunity to celebrate my most precious gift, even if I had it for only a few days. I almost missed my chance to remember and smile and cry again. I almost most the special day to celebrate life, by getting caught up in the busyness of life. Today was Eli Day. So I am now stopping, smiling, crying, and writing you good folk. In a moment I am going to go and kiss the sleeping heads of all those I love and silently thank God for each and every moment with them, even those that I have carelessly missed. Then I am gonna dry my tears and snuggle in bed with my baby girl (those 3AM blood sugar checks have made us roomies) and celebrate that if it is only for this moment...all is right with my world.

HAPPY ELI DAY TO YOU AND THOSE YOU LOVE THE MOST!

The Breakfast of Champions...or for at least this one

2010-07-08T10:12:00.000-05:00

"He replied, "You give them something to eat." Luke 9:13

We have no groceries in our house. In part it is because we just got back from our 4th of July trip. In part it is because we are trying not to have to go grocery shopping. In part it is because I have too many children who want to eat all the time (oh, for the day when the public school will feed them again!)

Anyway, so as we meal planning with what we got, we are coming up with some unusual combinations. So yesterday, for lunch, we had breakfast. In may family we often have breakfast for dinner, but yesterday we had it for lunch....it was great! We had biscuits (left over from our 'coming home' stop at Crackle Barrel as we affectionately call it), grits, bacon and sausage (Lucy prefers sausage and Lucy gets what Lucy wants...almost a Damn Yankees tune). After the kids had eaten (does it work that way in every household), Heather and I had lunch on what was left.

As I was enjoying my bacon and grits, Lucy walked in and asked a strange question.."Daddy, why do you always dip your bacon in your grits?" For starters, I did not know I "always" did this. But I realized she was probably right. And as I searched for the answer, I remembered my lifelong love of that particular combo.

I do prefer to eat my grits with bacon. I have always. I think they are the perfect combination. That is, or course, if the grits are made correctly. Grits are an art form that should not be messed with.

The first rule of grits is the correct consistency. Grits that have too much water are useless. Grits that are brick like are even worse. The perfect grit can be eaten with a fork, but does not hurt you teeth when you eat them.

The second rule of grits is the correct salt level. They need to be flavorful, but not like swallowing sea water. But the worse case scenario is no salt...might as well eat paste.

The third rule of grits is the proper amount of butter. If you must use fake butter for your health, it is allowed. But, if you are still a few chicken legs away from angioplasty, then use the real stuff the way God intended. The butter should be mixed throughout the grits evenly. Grits should not SWIM in butter...although, if in doubt, always err on the side of swimmin...

Finally, do not put foreign objects in your grits. Cheese is acceptable, as is garlic for a special dish, but SUGAR IS NEVER OK!!!!! If you make your grits into dessert, you might as well turn in your Southern Card, move to Wisconsin and eat oatmeal...it is blasphemous.

So now you know...and where did I learn these rules...my Mamaw of course. Whenever I would visit the farm as a child, my Mamaw always made grits and fried bacon. I am pretty sure my Papaw was a bacon man himself. But it was at that Formica kitchen table that I first learned to use my bacon to scoop my grits. When first put on my plate, the grits would be steaming..way to hot to put in my mouth with a metal spoon...we all know metal conducts heat. It would be like putting a red hot poker in my mouth...so, I was faced with two choices. Wait for them to cool (yeah, right!) or use my bacon and scoop my grits. The bacon was cooler and could scoop up the perfect amount of grits that what not mouth scorching...and of course, the taste was oh so sublime.

As I returned to the land of today, I looked at my sweet, angel daughter and said, "Just because I do...now go play!" The perfect parent response.

As I sat there munching, and reliving those mornings at the farm, I thought about how many times my Mamaw cooked those two things, just for me. Not because it was what she wanted, but because that is what Mamaws do; they feed us. I can even remember that after my Papaw died, she did not cook as much (who could blame her) and she even once bought me the "bacon flavored instant grits." They were horrible. After she and I both tried them, she got out the pots and pans and cooked the real thing. Cause that is how Mamaws share love...the feed you.

In many ways, God is a Southern Mamaw...he loves us no matter what...and one of the ways he does so is by feeding us...I am not just talking about the "daily bread" kind of provision...but God also feeds our spirits, our minds and our hearts. He gives us this manna in the form of family and friends who nurture us into being better people. Why? Because He loves us. And if he finds that "instant bacon flavored manna" doesn't work; then no amount of work is too much to get us what we need...

Bacon and Grits....the way God intended it to be.

Delta Roots

2010-07-07T10:14:00.001-05:00

Children's children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children. Proverbs 17:6

Seems like the world is plotting to make me nostalgic. After spending a great weekend in the MS Delta, we arrived home on Monday afternoon to a special package from my Aunt Betty (my Dad's sister who lives in Tennessee). My Aunt Betty and I have always been kindred spirits. Although a nurse by trade, she has always been a poet at heart. She is also the keeper of all the wonderful family gifts like cooking, canning, preserves, and especially quilting. She and I both have a deep abiding love for the old ways, couple nicely with an appreciation and thankfulness for modern conveniences.

Anyway, she sent me a signed copy of her latest accomplishment...a published book of her poems. These poems and stories detail her remembrances of life and family growing up on a small Delta farm..or as she so beautifully put it, "a dusty delta child."

As I sat this morning, reading it from cover to cover, only stopping to yell at slow children who needed to get dressed and fed before VBS, and to wipe the stray tear; I was overwhelmed by my own memories of that little delta farm..so small and insignificant by the world's standards, yet the whole world for me on the hazy days of childhood...

As I remembered, I thanked her in my heart for this special book that reminds me of who I am. I can't help but wonder if my grandmother, or Mamaw as I knew her, ever looked at this cotton-topped, pudgy, barefooted kid and thought that one day his life would be dedicated to proclaiming the faith that he learned in part from the hymns she hummed while cooking in the small kitchen or shelling peas. Did she know how her kindness and compassion would not only shape the man who would become my father, but would one day mold the way I view the role of pastor. Or did my grandfather, or Papaw, ever look down at this little kid who was the third to carry his name and imagine that he would one day be planting seeds of a different nature? Or did this quiet, gentle soul who loved to laugh ever dream that one day the faith he lived daily would be proclaimed by his son's son in words that he himself could never express?

Yes, today I am very nostalgic...and probably will be for many more days, so just get ready. Today I am grateful for deep roots that keep me grounded in the wildest of storms. Today I am grateful for wide branches of faithfulness that shelter my children in their arms. Today I am grateful for a handful of acres on Beasley Bayou that grew more than the greatest cotton the delta ever saw; but grew a family and a legacy that endures from generation to generation.

Delta Mornings

2010-07-04T20:38:00.000-05:00

"The One who was sitting on the throne said, "Look! I am making everything new!" Revelation 21:5

Although I grew up deep in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, I have basically spent all of my adult life away. My parents moved from Indianola when I was away at college, so for 3 years my times away from college where spent not in the flatland, but in Grenada. Then came marriage, seminary in Atlanta, and my first appointment in Carrollton, and now beginning year number four in Eupora.

For those of you who do not know Mississippi Geography, all those locations are considered "Hill Country." Although Carrollton does have a distinct semi-delta flair (having been founded in large part by rich delta planters escaping the illness and oppressive heat of their plantations), it is still not the delta (and NEVER make that mistake in the presence of someone from Carroll County...there are deep gullies in those hills where folks would never find the body...just saying...)

Anyway, back to my point. Although I was born and raised a delta child of delta parents, I have been "from the delta" for many years. Sadly, I admit I have also developed much of the bad-biased temperament of many of us ex-pats who say with drippin, honey-sweet, southern sarcasm that the best thing about being "from the delta" is that you are "from the delta." (for those of you who do not understand the subtleties of our speech this means that you are ever so grateful for no longer being in the homeland).

But today, I had a Delta Morning and things will never be the same. We are in Tunica this weekend for our annual 4th of July Family Reunion. My mother's baby sister, my dearest Aunt Linda (who should get herself online so she can read the amazing and insightful things that her favorite nephew is saying) hosts this event at her beautiful home in the country.

This morning, I had to get up early and sneak out of the hotel while the kids were sleeping. We had accidentally left Lucy's insulin in the fridge at Aunt Ninny's House (AKA: Aunt Linda) and I need to retrieve it before Lucy woke and we had breakfast. As I made the decision to take old highway 61 instead of the interstate, I pretty much had the road to myself.

The weather was amazingly cool and perfect, having yet to feel the oppression of Mississippi sunshine. I road with the windows downs to enjoy the cool, moist air as much as to "de-mosquito" the vehicle. For those of you who have ever been in the delta after dark you understand. I breathed in the fresh, cool, wet air; the smells of rich delta dirt filling my lungs and spirit. This beautiful black land so loved by the generations before me. This land God created for King Cotton, which built a society and a nation. This land which saw white gold replaced by the endless blue of catfish ponds, and now replaced by the sea of ripening golden corn and endless emerald fields of soybeans.

This earthy, hearty smell of morning, is laced with the smell of magnolias and honeysuckles as I drive past the mysterious and ancient pecan groves that dot the country side; most silently guarding the rotting timbers and foundations of "ole home places" long forgotten.

The sounds of crickets hidden in deep grass, coupled with awaking birds, creating a symphony to greet the new day. And all of these sights and sounds and smells gloriously crowned by clear blue skies and the warm sunrise. The sun rises all over the world, but I believe that the image God had in his mind when he created sunrise was the image of sunrise in the delta. The flatland stretching out endless before me, broken only by the lines of roads and the sentinels of light poles and lone trees. In the delta you see the sun rise rather then see the sky lighten.

As I drove down the country road that leads to Aunt Linda's, bordered by the deep green of bayou and the glowing green of fertile fields; that delta dirt that was born in my veins began to stir and for just a few moments I truly felt at home.

There are many things I still despise about my homeland. The dark history and present of racism will always darken my memories of this sacred place. The struggle to understand how this land of plenty can be a place where people are still in utter want and need, will always wound my heart. The frustrating way that delta folk prefer to live in a past that has no place in the present. The painful lives that for generations sought escape in the bottle of memories past, still wounds me today. Yes, all of those things I will always carry as burdens for my flatland home. But...

Today, I had a Delta Morning. Today I was reminded that within this at time dark land there is daily the eternal promise that God does indeed make all things new. For me, that is the grace that is a Delta Morning. For me, that is the reality that will always warm my heart. For me, that is the hope that reflects my own life.

For those of us in the delta, probably more than any others, we understand that we are this amazing land. We are, ourselves, a bitter struggle between the very best and worst of humanity. We are that which we despise and that which we applaud. And so, a Delta Morning for us is not just another day, but another chance of us as well.

Today I had a Delta Morning and that has made all the difference. I wish you for you all, many Delta Mornings of your own.

MOST WANTED

2010-07-02T12:03:00.000-05:00

"But those who suffer, He delivers in their suffering..." Job 36:15

WARNING!

Be on the lookout for a suspicious looking person hanging around houses where children are present.

Answers to the name: "I Don't Know."

May have other aliases such as "I Didn't Do It" and countless others.

Has been known to send gentle, loving, God-fearing parents into fits of animalistic rage. Favorite pastime is making mischief by misplacing toys and objects that were put back where they belonged by innocent, obedient children.

Last seen AT MY HOUSE!

If you see him, DON'T CALL ME!!!!

Last night I pitched a fit. For those of you that know me, KEEP YOU MOUTH SHUT and WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE. Josh and I had returned from orthodontist with prizes in tow. For those non-parental types reading this (don't you have a life?...just kidding. It is the jealousy talking.) a prize is a special gift for no reason. Anyway, back to the story.

Heather called while I was in Tupelo with Josh and said that this Snake Canyon Lego thingy that John and Josh has been saving money for (by saving I mean stealing all the change they could find) was in the Toys R Us paper for $9.99. Those of you who regularly price Legos know that is cheap. So we swung by there and picked it up and the boys would just reimburse Mom and Dad.

When we arrived home, John as elated. I told both boys that they could have the new Legos after three things happened:

1) Pay Daddy. I know them well enough to know you gotta get your money upfront!

2) Clean up the Wii stuff. If I have said it once I have said it a million and one times...pick up the Wii disks and put them back in the boxes or THEY WILL GET SCRATCHED AND NOT PLAY!

and 3) Get all the DSi stuff together so we can charge them for our trip this weekend.

Well, after the appropriate amount of whining, I got my money, the Wii stuff was hurriedly thrown into the basket, and Josh brought my his DS. Then came the search for John's DSi and our realization that the safety and security of our family and home had once again been compromised by public enemy #1...no not Osama Bin Laden...but that fiend, "I Don't Know!"

"John, where is your DS," his father asks sweetly and calmly (again zip it!)

"I don't know." CURSES! "I thought I put it back in the bag."

At this point my mind says "If it was in the bag, (inset one of those names your kids would be shot for saying), I would not have asked for it." But I say, "sweetie, it is not in the bag."

One of the cardinal rules of preaching is never ask children open ended questions. During children's moments this has gotten countless parents (and innocent children) in trouble. But another cardinal rule of preaching is that preachers often ignore the cardinal rules.

Back to the story. I ask one of those open ended questions, "Honey, darling, angel baby, where have you looked?" (OK, maybe not quite those words.) Response, "I don't know." Well, I do give him props for going to the source of all our troubles.

To make a long story somewhat shorter, it just deteriorates from there as we search and search and search (and mumble and grumble and threaten and rage) for the DS that, mind you, was just lost a few days before, and found with promises of always putting it back. Finally, Lucy sweetly and innocently predicts with accuracy that would make the most profitable California Psychics amazed, that the missing DS would be found behind the red chair in the living room. And thus is was found. Crises ends. It is truly amazing how often Lucy understands and knows the mind of "I Don't Know." Will have to ponder that sometime (or maybe I just don't wanna know).

So, to all of my friends with little blessings of their own....may God bless you and keep you safe from "I Don't Know"..(translation...O Loving and Compassionate God, PLEASE let "I Don't Know" find his way to your house so that he might give us a break!)

The Gospel of Belt-loops

2010-07-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

"He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his ways." Psalms 25:9

Today Joshua had another orthodontist appointment. Although when I look upon my children, I see them, as a parent will, perfected in love; one thing that is not perfect about any of my children (with the exclusion of Ben because it does not yet apply) is their teeth. I would like it on record that this comes from their mother's side of the family. (Headgear...need I say more?)

As Josh and I were traveling back from Tupelo on the Natchez Trace, amid the myriad of exhausting questions that is his current "modus operandi" he said, "Daddy, I know why God created belt-loops." Although it took me aback for a moment as I internally dealt with the deep theological implications and uncertainties of God "creating" belt-loops; I was anxious for him to share his bit of enlightenment.

"Why?" I asked. "God created belt-loops so our belts would not slide down as they try to keep our pants on." What gifted insight, if I do say so myself.(Unlike the headgear this comes from my side of the family.) Belt-loops keep the belt in place. The belts keeps the pants in place. And in the mind of a 7 year old this is just another of God's perfectly created systems.

Time and time again, throughout the Scriptures, God is spoken of as guide. It is God who guides our steps, guides our actions, guides our words, and guides our hearts. And, like the case with belt-loops, God's guidance is built in with layer upon layer of opportunity for us to get it right. That is what some of us call grace. Our obedience to God is not contingent just on our willingness. He doesn't count on the belt "of our intentions" to keep us together; but provides that our willingness and intentions are always supported by His amazing "belt-loops" or grace.

Praise God for simple messages, from simple hearts, that proclaim simple but eternal truths.

The Easter Wisdom of a 5 Year Old

2010-04-06T16:07:00.000-05:00

"let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance" Proverbs 1:5

Today Lucy wanted to come and hang at the office with me this afternoon while I finished up a few things. I was out of the office all morning, and will be out again tomorrow morning for a District Meeting; so I had a few things I needed to finish up. (Right now you are thinking...who gives a rip what you had to do in the office, get to the story...I am thinking the same thing too!)

So Lucy came to play while I worked. She often does this, but usually in the morning hours because she LOVES to play in the Church Office with "Mrs. Gwenn" (the world's best church secretary..I am so not biased) But today she fiddled around my office since Gwenn was gone. She fed me fake ice cream in the small bowls I use for the Seder Meal. She "steamed clams" using a communion bread basket and my pewter Baptism Shells. She cut paper, drew pictures, and asked about 500 million questions..none of which had anything to do with the work I was trying to get accomplished.

As she was working her way through all the stuff in my office, she came upon a basket of wall crosses that I have. Before my office was recently painted and renovated (shout out of thanks to my Small Group!!!) these crosses use to hang on the wall. Now, they fill a basket I have on a shelf. So Lucy decided to lay them all out on the floor and take a look. While she was arranging them just so (only a little girl would do this) she came upon a a cross she had not seen before. I am not sure where I picked up this rather ornate crucifix, but she took a liking to it.

We talked about how it was a Jesus on the Cross. Then came the questions. First, "what is this dress thingy that he is wearing?" Any good ideas on how to explain "loin cloth" to a 5 year old girl? But as luck would have it she channeled a partial Sunday School lesson about how they wrapped Jesus in cloth with "medicines" and "spices" when he died. (THANKS Big Guy!) So rather than enter a discussion about that being a shroud, I went with the easy answer..."You are so right." (Hey, the time will come when her Mother Superior can explain the differences after she enters the convent..but that is another story)

So then she proceeds to recount to me all the she had learned in Kid's Kingdom (our version of Sunday school) about the crucifixion and death of Jesus. Then fearing that her father, the preacher, may not be very well versed in this story, she begins at ask more questions. It went something like this:

"Daddy, why did they use nails, why did they just not tie him the cross."

"Sweetie, (this is me talkin) they used nails because they wanted Jesus to die." (Now this answer is complete, short, and should end the questions...right?....WRONG!)

"Why did they want him to die?"

As I contemplated on this hugely theological question that my child had just posed, she again answered for me,and in a way that blew me away.

"Daddy, maybe they just wanted him to die do they could be the boss."

Isn't that the heart of the matter? Jesus had to die because we wanted to be boss. The crowds in the street wanted to be the boss and define what Messiah meant and should do. The Romans wanted to be the boss and take this troublemaker out. The Pharisees wanted to be the boss and keep their faith in their control. And on a much larger level, all humanity wanted to be the boss of our own lives, thus creating the darkness of sin and our need for redemption.

In the very beginning of Proverbs, one of the challenges to the reader is this 'listen and learn' even when you think you have all the answers. Today, I listened. I learned; and as Lucy so tactfully pointed out...

"Daddy, why are your eyes kinda wettish?"

May we all stop trying to be the boss, so that Easter can last forever.

"Walking in Dark Places"

2010-04-02T09:06:00.000-05:00

"Even if I walk through a dark valley..." Psalm 23:4

Today is Good Friday, the day we remember the death of Jesus. To share an observation my brilliant son offered last year (I will let you decide which one it is, but it is not Ben).."Good Friday wasn't so good for Jesus, huh, Daddy?" It is a day of darkness. As I look out my office window, today even creation seems to understand our mourning. Following a week of perfect sunshine and warm afternoons; today I am greeted by gray skies and cold wind. A dark day indeed.

We all have dark days. As I allow myself to be swept away in the bleak mood of the day, I am reminded of the darker days of my life. I remember August 1, 2002 when Heather and I were side-swiped on Highway 55 just north of Jackson, returning from a weekend of celebrating our anniversary and our joy as she was 24 weeks pregnant with our triplet boys. As the car spun as vehicle after vehicle hit us I prayed that God would spare her life.

I remember August 30, 2002 when she was admitted to Baptist Hospital for preterm labor that just would not stop. I remember her daily misery as she endured everything they could medically do to keep our babies from being born for just one more day. I remember September 4, 2002 when the joy of being a new Dad was hugely overshadowed by my fear that is would not last as I first met my tiny, transparent, baby boys.

I remember the call on September 27, 2002 that said I needed to make it back to Jackson as soon as possible because my little Eli was terribly sick. I remember pleading with God all the way that if someone had to go, it needed to be me. I remember the feeling of being utterly abandoned as I walked into the NICU that horrible night.

I remember dark days. Most recently, I remember the afternoon I googled the life expectancy of a child with Type 1 diabetes. Dark days. Days that will forever leave their imprint and wound upon our lives. Wounds that even time will never fully heal.

The Psalmist understood dark valleys, but he also understood that all valleys have an end. Even though it may seem at times that our dark valley makes the Grand Canyon look small, all valleys end because, "Even though I walk through a dark valley, I will fear nothing for You are with me."

There have been times in my dark valleys that I was not so sure this was true. Times I felt completely alone. But it was in those times, when I could not "feel" His presence, that I simply had to trust that He was there...because frankly the alternative was too much to accept.

And even through those darkest of times, when I felt most alone, just the need to believe that God was there was enough, until I felt it for myself. And guess what? He was truly always there.

My prayer for you on this Dark Day, and in all the dark days of your life; is not that you will always feel His presence, but that you will always believe His promise. By the way, I think I might just see some sunshine.

Our New Journey...

2010-03-16T16:04:00.001-05:00

"...the journey of a thousand miles begins by taking the first step (even when it takes you off of a cliff)"

Tao Te Ching, verse 64 (addition by yours truly)

I want to begin by thanking everyone for your prayers, calls, cards, gifts, and words of encouragement and support. For those of you who are not up on every magical moment in the lives of the Harper Family, here it goes...

For the past several weeks we have been planning a family trip for Spring Break. For those of you who know us, you know this is not an easy endeavor. It is really like trying to execute the movement of troops during the invasion of Normandy, and the planning logistics to keep Disney "the Happiest Place on Earth." And this is what it takes for us to just make it to Starkville for groceries, much less a week.

We were planning on leaving last Thursday to spend a week in San Antonio, TX with Heather's OLDEST sister Babette (she is gonna love that emphasis) and her MUCH OLDER husband, Randy (I may be typing myself out of an invite). The kids were so excited about seeing their favorite Aunt and Uncle (to all our other siblings...take it up with the kids) and Angel (their diabetic cat) and of course being on vacation. So, the Harper's planned.

Then came March 5, 2010...our own personal D-Day. I called that morning to the local pediatrician's office to get Lucy an appointment for what we thought was a routine urinary track infection. I mean, we had less than a week until our 12 hour, 2 day drive to Texas and there was no way we would make it if she had to potty every 30 minutes (isn't it amazing how potty becomes the word of choice once you have kids). That was the day, thanks to a very observant doctor that our lives changed.

Following the in-clinic urinalysis Dr. Kalli sent us to the hospital for some blood work. All he said was that there was no trace of infection, but her glucose level was 1000. It is supposed to be zero. So off we went to the hospital for blood work which was a nightmare.

Now as this point, to my credit (or perhaps not), I was ignorant of what all this meant and was really just put out that we had to go get blood work. We arrived at the outpatient lab, went back and into HELL. For the sake of my own sanctity (and to protect the innocent) I will not recount this experience...suffice it to say that a very irate Dad left with a very upset little girl to tell Dr. Kalli this blood work was not going to happen. I called Heather from the parking lot and went back to the clinic. Dr. Kalli told me the blood work was not an option so I went home, tagged Heather in, and off they went to the hospital.

For the sake of your reading, and my reliving, lets fast forward about two hours until the phone call. Heather calls. I need to call my Mom to come. Lucy is being sent to Children's Hospital in Jackson tonight for suspected Type 1 diabetes (juvenile diabetes for you old timers). So then begins a whirlwind of placing children, packing (on what would have been laundry day), and maneuvering to get me to Indianola (did I mention I was starring in Les Miserables in Indianola that weekend), the boys to a friend's, and Mom, Heather, Luce and Ben to Jackson in a period of a couple of hours. Fastforward again... (it is like Reader's Digest minus the uplifting 'old people' stories)

So here we are..., after hundreds of commuting miles between Eupora, Indianola, and Jackson; the priceless assistance of both sets of grandparents; 6 days in the hospital; countless finger sticks and insulin shots; dozens of books, pamphlets, and worksheets; meetings with endocrinologists (who are TOO smart), nurses, doctors, and dietitians... finally at home with our precious little Angel girl, the newest member of a very special club called Type 1.

Can I just stop and say "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" Thanks, I needed that. So our new journey begins. It is not a journey anyone wants to take. Having a chronically ill child is pretty close to Hell some days (and we have been to Hell when it comes to children, so we know of what we are speaking) but we are making it through. Step by step, tear by tear, scream by scream, moment by moment, prayer by pleading prayer, loving word by caring card; our journey continues.

I have heard the above quote from the Tao many times, but is was not until recently that I ever heard the first part....it goes like this "The greatest trees grow from the smallest shoots, a terraced garden from a pile of earth,"

There are journeys we have no choice but to take, but BY GOD (literally) we can choose the way we travel and with His grace something good can (and will) come from it. Thanks for listening. Thanks for praying. We are staying afloat.

(The Picture is Lucy with "Rufus, the Bear with Diabetes" compliments of JDRF. Please check them out at www.jdrf.org)

Woes Only A Daddy Can Understand

2010-02-22T19:56:00.001-06:00

" I have found the one whom my soul loves."

Song of Solomon 3:4

Today, my little princess, angel baby turned 5!!! On a day created for celebration, I really just wanted to drink. If you are the father of a little girl then you really have no need to read the rest of this blog. You understand completely. If, on the other hand, you are not blessed with a little girl in your life, than read on.

Raising boys is a world away from raising girls. I happen to be the crazy father of both, so I not only speak from experience, but also with much authority (take that Dr. Spock!). Boys are for the most part very straight forward. They have few moods...namely, happy (for which John has a second level called ECSTATIC), sad (for which Joshua has another level called HEARTBROKEN), angry, and hungry. As they get older, these moods get more defined and refined, but pretty much stay the same, with the exception of hungry which morphs into bottomless. But, as usual I digress.

Raising girls requires much more finesse, which for a man (translate older version of above) can be even more difficult. Therefore, I pass on to you now the best advice I can offer fathers when it comes to raising little girls...as it was passed down to me..."The goal of fathering a little girl is to shape her into a young woman who will one day make some young man miserable." Let that marinate with you for a moment. Truth has been spoken.

So, armed with this nugget of wisdom, raising little girls is the easy part. The hard part comes in accepting the fact that "raising little girls" means that they grow up. Right now, in my little girl's world, Daddy is everything. I can fix anything. I can make anything. I know all things. I can do all things. And most miraculously this complete and utter devotion and dedication to Daddy can not even be tainted by "Mom who knows best."

So, with each year passing, as I realize that my little girl is getting ever closer to becoming a young woman, I mourn. I mourn that she is getting every day closer to realizing that SuperDad is only mortal and often clueless. I mourn that as she gets older there will one day be things I cannot fix and problems I cannot solve. I mourn that one day she will not only fully embrace that "Daddy does NOT know everything," but will freely speak this painful truth to me. I mourn that each passing year brings her closer to that "young man she will make miserable."

I know. I know. You "little-girl-less" Daddies and Moms are all thinking that I have lost it. She is only 5 and I have several of the good years left. All that is true. But there are somethings in life that withstand reason, and for me this is one of them. (and thanks to all the Daddy's of little girls who are giving me air fist bumps right now...know you can call me when your time comes...we will start a support group)

A New Me for the New Year?

2010-02-09T09:54:00.000-06:00

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: the old has gone, the new has come!

2 Corinthians 5:17

I'm back! To all those who have sent emails and posts of concern, we are well. I have just been slow in getting back in the groove of blogging. But, it is a new year (yes, I am aware that it is February) and a time for new things and new possibilities....(cue the Star Trek theme music)

For those who are unaware of one of the biggest additions to our lives (other than Benjamin...a REALLY BIG addition) we have this new fangled ministry in our church called small groups. Our church has a children problem. This is not a child behavior problem, although the Harper Clan keeps us busy with that...believe me! No, our problem is we have LOADS of children. (Good problem to have...kinda like the problem of having TOO much money...I'd like to try that one someday) Because of all of these younguns we need lots of volunteers to staff our Kid's Kingdom ministry on Sunday mornings. Thus, our volunteers were having to sacrifice their own group study time (Sunday School) to help with the children. So we decided to offer an alternative group time called small group. These groups of 8-12 adults (with almost as many children) meet when and where it fits their lives for food, fellowship and study. It has been a HUGE SUCCESS!

Anyway, our small group meets on Wednesday nights in homes for dinner and study. But one of the greatest by-products of the small group experience has been the real, honest and lasting relationships that have been formed (that is preacher-speak for awesome friendships), Our small group does just about everything together. We meet on Wednesday for the "religious" stuff and then can usually be found together at least once a month in just fun time. We celebrated new years eve, new years day, SuperBowl, and this Friday we are having Valentine's Dinner. It was become a real circle of friends for not only the big folks, but for our kids too. Over the course of the last several months, we have become very close...(cue "Friends Forever")

So, now that we are all involved in each other's lives, the health folks in our group have decided that it is time to get us all moving. (maybe friendships can have a downside...hmmm). Thus, my life was recently introduced to the "Couch to 5K" plan. Now, I insert my disclaimer as I did to all members of my small group on a repetitive basis. First, I have not intentions of aspiring for 5K or "anything K" for that matter. My philosophy has always been "run only when chased in a threatening manner," and I am sticking to that. It has served me well thus far. Second, this plan is detailed for 7 weeks to fitness. I am thinking more like 21 or even 32 weeks. I mean, come on folks, it took me 34 years to get in the condition I am. What makes anyone think I can fix it in 7 weeks...please...

So there you have it. My small group is trying to get a new preacher (at least a new and improved one...I think...PPRC has not met yet). I survived my first day yesterday afternoon...did not follow the guidelines completely, but it was a success..I am still breathing, I am tolerably sore, and no one had to use the shock paddles. Yep, who knows, maybe I can be ready for 5K by age 35...that might just be cool (as Josh is so fond of saying)!

A Delicious Christmas to You All!

2009-12-24T18:33:00.000-06:00

"Taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him." Psalm 34:8

Although it is perhaps slightly sacrilegious, (oops) I am actually writing this blog in the midst of Christmas Eve Communion. Now mind you, I am the only one here right now, but we are still technically in the middle of service (even if it is 'come and go' family communion). One of the joys of ministry is getting to serve communion. Communion is such a special and beautiful part of our Christian tradition, and it really does make my heart sad that some adults can be so uptight about "getting it right." I always tell folks (when it happens to come up in conversation) that communion is like Family Dinner for the Family of God. It does have its ritual, its own special ebb and flow, but it should always be a time of joy, never a time of worry. But again, it is adults that often get uptight, never the children.

Tonight, shortly after I unlocked the doors (note to those interested: NEVER unlock the door until you are perfectly ready to begin...6PM start often means 5:45PM to those who are coming) we had a large family come in for communion. It was three generations and a whole chancel rail full of folks. As is our tradition on Christmas Eve (at least since the 3 Christmases I have been pastor) we dispense with the bread and small juice cups (affectionately known among our clergy friends as 'Jesus shooters') and celebrate the Holy Meal by method of intinction. This means you break off a piece of the bread and dip it into the cup (of for those with Episcopalian leanings, you can drink from the cup). Plus as an added bonus we have a dear little lady who bakes homemade bread for every service. For folks who have a tendency to stress during Communion, intinction always sends them into fits. But for me, during special service, it is such a beautiful way to share...one bread, one cup, one Savior.... But I digress...

This family gathered at the rail and I began serving. When I reached this one special little 6 year old girl she truly warmed my heart. First she smiled up at me with her somewhat snaggle smile as I loving told her "Jesus loves you." She took her bread (a rather large piece) and shoved it fingers and all in the cup (I know she touched the bottom). She then popped the sopping piece in her mouth with a loud "MMMMM" of utter bliss and then swung back on her heels in joy. I could almost believe she had a little pentecostal "slain in the spirit" somewhere in the DNA.

I was so very thankful that this moment really did appear to be just for me, her, and God. There were no apologetic looks from parents or unnerved glances. Just another bright smile as I moved on down the line.

As I finished serving this most Holy Meal, I wondered how many I would serve tonight, of in my lifetime for that matter, who would truly experience God is such a wonderful way. How many would, as the Psalmist urges, "taste and see that the Lord is good?" Sadly, even on the Christmas Eve, most will come and eat bread dipped in juice and go on, minds filled with other things and missing God's greatest gift.

It is my prayer for you and yours, that if it is even for a moment, you will "taste and see" just how delicious God's blessings can be.

MERRY CHRISTMAS from Us to You!

A Moment of Christmas

2009-12-08T18:02:00.000-06:00

"This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." Luke 2:12

This past week has been a total tinsel covered, carol singing, tree lighting, float building, parade watching, wreath hanging, rained out, cantata loving week of holly, jolly hell! Welcome to Christmas Week in Eupora...7 days of non-stop, over the top busyness!! Although I am not sure my exact phrasing would be chosen for our visitors' brochures, but I am sure you all get the point. It has been chaos, to say the least..but admittedly chaos I brought upon myself (see, preacher's can be honest!)

The week started with a bang. Wreaths had to be collected and hung for the Festival of Wreaths (guess who is in charge?); Santa's mailbox has to go up for the lighting of the park, and guess who was the only Eupora Arts person in town over the holiday to build it? The mailbox got put up (thanks Dad!), and the children sang beautifully although the ground was too wet for a big community tree so there was no big "lighting" event, and thus the small crowd consisted of parents and grandparents only.

Tuesday followed with a morning filled with scrubbing the church refrigerator which had not been cleaned in at least 2 years (which is why the smell was lethal), cleaning the freezer for Methodist Munchies in which water had been left standing since this time last year; and making 10 gallons of Chili for the Youth Fundraiser. The afternoon was spent rounding up judges for the Festival of Wreaths and getting everything set for opening that night. The day ended with the Eupora Christmas Parade and our kid's float (which was once again the best church entry by far although not noted as such by the judges, but we believe in grace and pray that God will not hold such poor decisions against them on the Day of Judgment...no, I am not bitter at all) was a hit. All 50+ kids looked great in their cowboy hats and bandannas and they had a blast...which is what is truly most important for all of you trophy driven folks out there!

Wednesday was full of rain, which rained out the Community Advent Walk (again, guess who was in charge) at the last minute and left me regretting the cancellation of small group (miss you guys!).

Thursday was dedicated to doing all those things that had been neglected in preparation for Mon-Wed., including decorating the sanctuary (THANKS GWENN!) for the upcoming worship services.

Friday was a dedicated to all the paperwork that did not get finished on Thursday, as well as collecting all the frozen casseroles and baked good at the church for Methodist Munchies on Saturday.

Saturday was Christmas Market and an early start with setting up the munchies booth (THANKS to all who worked early and late).

Which brings us to Sunday morning worship, complete with Adult Handbells, choir lunch, 2 hours of rehearsal, and a beautiful cantata (great job choir!)

Now at this point I am done. I am physically and mentally exhausted and ready for a quiet night at home. And little did I know that God had a very special gift in store at the end of my crazy week. Sunday night, after the cantata, we had McDonald's, in our pajamas while we watched the world premiere of "Phineas and Ferb's Christmas Vacation" (for those of you who do not know Phineas and Ferb, find a child and ask...). I can tell you there is no better remedy for a hard week than Mickey-D's indoor picnics with the Disney Channel.

As I sat there dipping my fries in the last of my hot mustard sauce (wish they would bottle that stuff), I has this thought. For the past 6 days I had worked myself to death all in the name of Christmas, and it wasn't until this moment that I truly found it. Christmas is not lights, or parades, or community worship, or even wonderful cantatas. Christmas is being with the ones you love, who love you even when you are too busy to be at home. Christmas is warm pajamas and debating over who is the Ferb in the family. Christmas is even dry chicken nuggets when shared with the apple of your eye.

My prayer for you is that sometime in the craziness that this season has become you will find your moment of Christmas...and maybe you will be lucky enough to have it with fries!

Thankful for the Little Things

2009-11-23T21:05:00.000-06:00

"At that time Jesus said, " I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children." Matthew 11:25

Even in the midst of this season of "Goodwill Toward Men (and women)" and "Thanksgiving," it is ever so hard to have goodwill or be thankful when you are cleaning a playroom. This past week, after weeks of putting it off, we had to clean the playroom. If we did not, one of two things were going to happen. First, the Health Department was going to come and take our children away for making them live in a house that contained (even if confined to one room) such squalor. Or second, that room would eventually create a crater in our yard from the sheer weight of the crap! Now if it was not for all the legalities and paperwork necessary to get them back one day I would have gladly have chosen the first option. I also know that the Parsonage Trustees would not have been too pleased about the crater; especially since they are still being "ever so patient" about the mud splatters that still need to be scrubbed off of the side of the youth building. I am sorry, but it has just not been a priority and now it is too cold for it to dry (so I am telling myself...secretly hoping that some fairies or angels will do it for me!) But, as usual I digress.

So, back to the point...the playroom had to be cleaned, especially if we were going to introduce any new toys in the coming weeks. So while Heather kept Ben happy and attempted to clean the kitchen, the big kids and I set to cleaning the playroom. Following 6 full hours (complete with tons of whining, witching, moaning, and threats to 'knock you into next week') we were finally done. Yes, at this point I am completely overwhelmed and sickened by the amount of materialistic crap my children have, but that is an entirely different blog.

During our cleaning up and cleaning out, I made Joshua sort and consolidate his various 'collections' and stashes from around the house. (For More see my previous The Hoarder blog) It was truly amazing what all he had accumulated. Among the burnt light bulbs, broken craft sticks, bits of string, stickers, vending machine toys, and spare change; we did happen to find a den remote that had been missing for about 6 months. Told you hoarders can be handy. But as I was forcing him to cull his treasures, he began to recount the story of each item and just why it had made its way into his trove. At this point, even my cold-hearted love of throwing things away began to thaw. He was so cute as he told me about each item. Of special significance was a plastic yellow pterodactyl. This little nugget was his very first prize for staying on green during his very first week of Kindergarten. Yes, I said KINDERGARTEN! It has been almost a year and a half since that day! At that point, I gave in. I gave my little crazy collector a big hug and let him keep all his crap (oops, I mean treasures).

But it did get me to thinking. Everyday God places millions of little treasures in our lives. Perhaps it the smile of your newest born as he looks up content with a full belly; or perhaps it is a random fall leaf that is that perfect shade of red. Or just maybe it is a plastic yellow toy that reminds you that you started off big school with a bang! Little gift after little gift that most of us will soon discard, if we even notice. I challenge you, as I challenged myself, to take just a moment and realize just how blessed you are. It will truly take your breath away.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM ALL THE HARPERS!

By the way, John wanted his picture posted too. This is John with his "Book of Traps." Hey, we love some Indiana Jones at our house! Look for it in a bookstore near you soon!

If Only It Was Multiple Choice

2009-11-11T10:56:00.001-06:00

"Those along the path are the ones who hear, and then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. Those on the rock are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away. The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life's worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature. But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop." Luke 18: 12-16

Have you ever heard the old saying, "Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it."? Well, among preachers we have our own special version of this saying that goes, "Be careful what you preach about, because God might just use it to bite you in the gluteus maximus (insert term of your choice)." OK, well maybe all preachers don't use that exact saying, but all would agree with the sentiment.

Of all of the responsibilities of being a pastor, preaching (at least for me) is the most daunting. It is the time when all of my own flaws and insecurities come to the forefront as I ask myself, "Who am I to speak for God?" It is during this internal struggle that God's Amazing Grace swoops in, calms my fears and reminds me that I am not speaking for God, but that God is planning on speaking through me. Which opens up a whole different can of issues...but I digress (and am probably giving way too much information for those who firmly believe that preachers are perfect...I am sure there are at least one or two out there). Anyway, I take the responsibility of preaching very seriously, as all good pastors should and do. But in the process of praying and discerning God's Word for our congregations, we can often get in trouble when we forget that God is talking to us as well.

Case in point: this past week. Over the last several weeks we have been talking about reconnecting to God and allowing God to use us in the world. Pretty basic, safe text...right? WRONG! This past Sunday I was talking about our call to 'make disciples,' not by bullying or guilting people into faith; but by loving and nurturing people with the Love and Grace of God. We are called to build relationships will everyone that God places in our lives, so that through our loving relationships, they might come to know His Love. Great stuff if I do say so myself...and Gospel I really believe. Our church is a great example of the power of Radical Hospitality. We seek to love everyone with the Love of God, but there is always room for improvement. Anyway, I preached that sermon Sunday morning and apparently God was in a humorous mood, because ever since He has found no shortage of opportunities to TEST ME on that calling.

Sunday afternoon: When running back to the church to get garbage bags for the trash from our Thanksgiving Fellowship with Liberty UMC, I was stopped by a local man who has often come the church for help. He has a difficult past and always seems to be needing help, which we do our best to see that he receives, but at some point we have to say no. Anyway, he caught be running in the door to get the bags and said he needed just a minute...and then proceeds to unload his story, complete with tears and needs. At this point my demons question whether this is an act (again looking to his past) but in the midst of my internal dismissal of him, my sermon comes echoing back.."love the unloveable." Just for the record, I usually have no recollection of my sermon 5 minutes after it is over, but for some reason, this day, my recollection was spot-on! So here I am, in the fellowship hall struggling with my human desire to tell him "see ya" and this divine voice reminding me to literally practice what I preach. I take a deep breath. Deliver the bags and then spend the next 30 minutes in conversation, trying to truly listen and be open to him. He left, with the help he was looking for, and I like to think feeling a little better. Whether it was an act or not, I felt better knowing I had done it right...I think!?!

Monday Morning 7AM: Call from a precious church member who lives in a local nursing home, demanding a visit. Now I know none of you non-clergy people would ever do this, or have amazingly strong feelings or opinions about pastoral visits. But I do appreciate folks when they call (just not at 7AM). The usual way this is played out is a serious of passive aggressive, snide, calls to other church members stoking the fires of righteous indignation over the 'purposeful' slight of that sorry son-of-a-gun who calls himself a pastor. Yeah, I have had those too. But he called, although I had seen him just 4 days earlier. I wanted to tell him I would be by when I could,but that I had a full schedule for today. But then my sermon echoed again in my head and I smiled and visited.

Monday Afternoon and Tuesday: I get a call from the local motel. There is a couple from Indiana who where in Eupora helping care for her mother, but got kicked out by the landlord. They were broke and homeless with no place to stay. They needed $700 to stay in the motel this month until their check came in December. They also needed money for food and gas and etc. The Baptist Church had put them up Sunday night. They had not been able to find any other help. She was 6 months pregnant and the sweet motel manager starts putting the guilt on about putting her into the street. It is 5PM, I have no access to that kind of money at all, much less instantaneous and no time to contact other churches. I could just say, I am sorry but we can't do it...but then that blasted sermon comes back to me. To make a long story somewhat shorter, we put them up for two nights. I met them yesterday and convinced them they needed to return to Indiana and got them money for food and gas to get home. They should arrive home today. I hope to hear from them tonight. Here is hoping and praying they make it safely.

So, as you see, I have been tested and I just hope I passed. I was not this tired after the ACT or even seminary finals! In the gospel of Luke, Jesus tells a parable about the sower (for those who don't know this story, it is not meant to be an illustration of good farming technique). He throws some seed on the road, some on the rocks, some among thorns, and some in good soil. Then Jesus explains how each kind of soil is a different person who hears the same gospel message. The final question for the hearers is simply, "What kind of soil are you?" I hope that despite my struggle, I was found to be good soil. Maybe I just had a few rocks that needed to be removed in the process. What kind of soil are you? How do you respond to God's call in your life, especially when it is difficult or inconvenient? Tough questions always have the most important answers.

I hope my testing is over...at least for now. I know that there will be many more test in the future...after all faithful living is something we choose to do daily. And sadly, true faithfulness is not multiple choice...it is all or nothing. What will be your choice? And I just thought "new math" was hard!

Grey Pumpkins

2009-11-06T12:23:00.000-06:00

"They will not continue to make themselves unclean by their idols, their statues of God which I hate, or by their sins. I will save them from all the ways they sin and turn against me, and I will make them clean. Then they will be my people, and I will be their God." Ezekiel 37:23

This year, Eupora Arts had a special Pumpkin Painting project the week before Halloween. They invited kids (and the young at heart) from the community to come and paint their pumpkins. These works of art were on display in the BLY windows the week before Halloween. Then they were transferred to my front yard (yeah me!) to be on display during the Community Trunk-A-Treat and to be picked up by the artist. Of the over 30 pumpkins painted, one was picked up. That explains why as I type, I have a massive mounds of hay and rotting pumpkins at the end of my drive. Needless to say I am so glad that was being cleaned up on Monday...

Anyway, we took our ruffians to the BLY to paint pumpkins and they had a blast. Of course Ben's pumpkin was the neatest (having been painted by yours truly under the total and complete direction of Heather...I know you are all having difficulty imagining my quiet and passive Mrs. being in control of her babies pumpkin..but tis true!) Lucy's pumpkin was more like a patchwork quilt...a little color here, a little color there, a lot of pink here, a little purple there. Josh, of course, was a man with a plan which he promptly executed and was done. Which brings us to our dearest John. John of course jumped in, with now plan, and just started painting. No idea what he wanted his pumpkin to look like, he just wanted to paint. The color did not matter. The fact that the brush was not clean did not matter. Getting paint on that pumpkin (and consequently all over his clothes in spite of his apron) was the only thing that mattered...until he saw other pumpkins with a plan.

At this point, pumpkin covered in a myriad of running colors, John decided to have a plan. He wanted his pumpkin to look like Frankenstein. So, he promptly started painting Frank. But then when it did not look right, he took his brush and attempted to paint away his mistake. My now, all the of the 100+ colors that have been on this pumpkin are smearing together and changing this beautiful, healthy, golden orange $6 pumpkin (isn't that nuts!) to a putrid grey color. And we tries again and again it does not work, so he paints it out more with unfortunately the same result..more sickly grey.

At this time, Dad comes to the rescue! (cue the superman theme song and visualize me with a red cape) He tells me (insert "WHINES TO ME") about his frustration and then promptly starts to pout that his pumpkin is now ugly because he just couldn't get it right. So together, we spend the next 20 minutes trying to put a Frank face on this grey pumpkin. Considering what we had to work with I would say we did an excellent job (insert "I did an excellent job since 1 minute into it he was done and chasing Josh around the room").

Today as I was looking at that grey pumpkin, I got to thinking about how we do the same things in our life. God creates us a beautiful, healthy, "golden" people...and then we forge ahead with our own plans ( or lack there of) and pretty soon we have a mess on our hands. It is then we want to fix it and make it better, so we try to wipe out or hide our failures. In the process, all we do is just smear it all around and make it worse. Then we try to cover over our mistakes and failures and all we do is add to the mess that is our lives. Pretty soon our beautiful lives are dead and grey.

That is until we decide to give it over to God, and He makes us clean. What a wonderful promise! What a blessed thought! So next time you look at you catch yourself trying to fix your life yourself, or trying to cover up your sins; stop and give it over to God. He actually has the perfect plan and he can make you clean. FYI...check out the pic of our cuties in costume!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HARVEST FESTIVAL, or whatever floats your boat!

2009-10-27T09:53:00.000-05:00

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.
You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.: Matthew 5: 13-16

I normally don't do forwarded emails. Please no one take offense, but I barely have enough time to return vital emails, much less email 10 of my best friends so Jesus won't be ashamed of me. I like to believe that my faithful living is strong enough to balance out the sappy poems, Internet hoaxes, and 'Hang In There' kitten pictures I do not forward. If my eternal reward is due in some part to my faithfulness in Christian chain mail, then I truly hope and pray that Grace will cover that lapse in judgement. But I digress.

I don't do forwards, unless they come from a source who never sends me forwards and thus it peaks my interest. Today I received a forwarded letter that one of my pastor friends had received from a well-intentioned clergy of another denomination. The letter, in summary, was calling on my friend, "as a pillar of faith" (apparently they have not met...LOL..just kidding) to encourage the families in his congregation NOT to "expose their children to the satanic sinfulness that is called Halloween."

Now I know that there are many folks out there who have very strong feelings about this subject. I am not writing this to change anyone's mind. Your principles are just that...your principles. I hope that all of us take strong stands when it comes to the well-being of our families. I also hope that we can all agree that just because our principles may not always match perfectly, it does not speak ill of either of us. With all of that being said, when I read this letter, I laughed.

Now before you go getting all indignant, I was not laughing at this determined, faithful, well-intentioned brother. I appreciate and applaud his conviction and his willingness to step out on faith and share. We could all learn from his example. The reason for my laughter was that had he known me, he would firmly believe I was a heretic. You see, for three years now our church has celebrated Halloween in our own special (although not original) way....TRUNK-A-TREAT.

For those of you who live under stones and are not familiar with this concept, it basically provides an alternative to traditional "house-to-house" trick-or-treating. Instead, you get lots of folks to decorate their trunks and then the kids go from trunk-to-trunk for treats. Kinda like 'Walmart for Halloween'...one stop shopping.

The first year that I was here in Eupora we did this just as a church, to provide a safe and fun place for the kids to trick-or-treat. It was a parent's dream,! You did not have to lug them all over town, you got to eat free hotdogs, hang with adult friends, and know that your kids were safe and happy. Last year, we invited our brothers and sisters of First Baptist Church to join us. We blocked off the street in front of their parking lot (which also fronts my house) and had lots of cars from both churches. We opened it to the community and it was a huge success. We had over 2 dozen trunks and ran out of candy! We also served over 300 free hotdogs! This year, we have even more trunks volunteered and St. John Neumann Catholic Church is joining us as well.

Now mind you, we have had raised eyebrows. We don't try to disguise what we are doing as a Harvest Festival or some other name in an attempt to hide the Halloween connection. We have it on Halloween night, as its own event, and not a tack on to a church event. When folks ask, I say, "We are celebrating Halloween...Christian style!"

Following the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus used 2 examples of faithful living for the crowds. He said to them you are to be the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world." Is there a better place to provide true taste and flavor than for a holiday that is already so muddled in connotation and commercialism? Is there a better place to be light, than in a season and time when folks lives are pretty dark? Yes, Halloween has loads of baggage...most of it pretty bad. So does that mean we give up the good that can be Halloween because someone else wants to make it dark and scary. NO! Remember we are "more than conquerors through Him who loves us" (Romans 8:37)! So, in Eupora the churches are conquering Halloween for our families! We are saying "let the children come" and be kids and enjoy dressing up and gorging on candy (we will teach them about gluttony another day). Let families come and enjoy being together, even for just a few moments, with no hassle of stress. Let everyone come, "taste and see" that the Family of Faith is something to celebrate!

So, load up the kids (broom or minivan...it is your option) and celebrate the gift of family, the gift of laughter, the gift of fun, the gift of fellowship, the gift that Halloween can be! (By the way, have you ever seen a cuter pumpkin?!?)

Train Up a Child...all for the bargain price of $8 a week!!!

2009-10-20T14:22:00.000-05:00

"Children, obey your parents as believers in the Lord. Obey them because it's the right thing to do. Scripture says, 'Honor your father and mother.' That is the first commandment that has a promise. 'Then things will go well with you. You will live a long time on the earth.'—(Deut 5:16)
Fathers, don't make your children angry. Instead, train them and teach them the ways of the Lord as you raise them. "

Ephesians 6: 1-4

Have you ever read something that just makes you laugh. This past week, when I re-read the above verses from Ephesians, I just had to sit and chuckle. You want prove God is a Dad? Read verses 1-3. This is great stuff, played out in homes all across our great land:

SYNOPSIS: Dad says, "Children Obey Your Parents." Kids ask "Why?" (we knew that question was coming).

Dad answers, "Because it was right and BECAUSE IT WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE." Hey, I did not make this stuff up...read it for yourself! Who knew that Bill Cosby's famous "I can take you out and make one that looks just like you" threat biblical.

But even with this newly found divine sanction for exterminating problem children, parenting is still (sadly) more about us doing what is right, than expecting perfection from them (Don't tell my wife I said that!). As much as we want to deny it, children are a product of their parents. Parenting is about parents...pure and simple.

Case in point - today is Cub Scout Day (it is also 'O my Goodness, we have a ton of homework, nothing thawed for dinner, soccer game at 6pm and Cub Scouts at 6:30pm day, as well!) I was a scout. (Please don't let that get around or I might just have to do something!) I loved Cub Scouts. I still love scouting. Mind you, I am NOT in love with the whole camp out among the bugs and vermin element of scouting, but I love scouts in more a cerebral way I guess (fancy word for 'heady.') I love the goal of scouts...to train up young men (and ladies) into people of character with a true work ethic. I think the world could use a lot more people of character with a work ethic...but I digress. Anyway, as a parent, one of my responsibilities is to "train up" my kids so they can be productive members of society. Considering what I have to work with, I need all the help I can get, so John and Josh are currently Cub Scouts (I use the word currently, because you never know what tomorrow may hold!). I want my boys to understand the importance of honesty, integrity, achievement, teamwork, and all those good relational characteristics. So, like any good modern parent, I believe that it takes a village to raise a child, and thus I am always looking for folks to add to my village.

So far, scouts has not been an overwhelming success for us, but we are hanging in there, banking on the big payoff in the end (provided we live through it.) The kids love, and that is what matters (says the man who is constantly telling whining seven year olds, "I don't care what you want!). We have the top-to-toe uniform, we have our books and do our little activities. We learn our stuff...and once a week (when we can make it happen) I drop the little knee-huggers off and let someone else deal with them for an hour...ah, parenting at its finest!

The reason we have no time...the VERY CUTE reason!

2009-10-08T01:22:00.000-05:00

"My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you prosperity. Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man." Proverbs 3: 1-4

Many thanks to everyone for the calls, (the casseroles), and the cards. We were pleased to welcome to our family BENJAMIN TAYLOR HARPER on August 26th at 1:42PM. He was 8lbs, 11oz and 21 inches long. Now that we are "celebrating" (and I use the term very loosely at 1AM) his 6th week of life, needless to say he is much bigger!

When is comes to naming our children, Heather and I have always had a formula:

Part 1: Family name (person not living...really cuts down on the grandparent animosity)

Part 2: Biblical name (hey, what do you expect from a preacher?)

Thus, when it came to naming Ben, we had formula, but a little work cut out for us. When you have as many children as we have (not to mention nieces and nephews), it does not take long for all the good family names to be used. But, we persevered and found the perfect name for our final addition (at this point, if I could, I would highlight and multiple underline that beautiful word 'final'). TAYLOR is Heather's paternal grandmother's (Mawmaw to those who love her!) maiden name. Not only was it a good name, but this was also the one branch of the family tree not previously homaged. BENJAMIN was quite another story.

Although when choosing Biblical names for your child, there are many who eliminate themselves (Tamar, Absalom, Haggai, etc) there are still many to sort through. That is why we turn to meanings. The name Benjamin has a lovely meaning..."Son of my right-hand," or son most honored for those who need help in translation. What a beautiful name for our beautiful, final baby boy (there goes that great word again!)! Benjamin, the youngest son of Israel, the blood-brother of Joseph (remember the technicolor dreamcoat...was not original to Lloyd Webber if you didn't know). What a great name, great meaning, and great story!

But, as He proves time and time again, God always enjoys a good chuckle. If you read the story of the birth of Benjamin (Genesis 35: 16-20) you realize that it was not all sunshine and roses (if you have ever witnessed the birth of a child you know this is the gospel even in the best of circumstances). Anyway, we should have paid closer attention to little details such as....

1) Rachel had a difficult delivery - Heather had a somewhat typical c-section, but a DIFFICULT recovery

2) Rachel dies - Since birth, our little Ben is determined to "exhaust" his Mommy to death with his desire to eat non-stop, sleep as little as possible, and scream the rest of the time

3) He is first named 'Ben-oni" or "son of my woe" - see #2 and think 2AM, 3AM, 4AM...

Yep, children are a blessing (must have first been said by a grandparent!) and we thank God daily for our newest one!

Lessons from the Big Cheese: Remembering What Is Important

2009-07-02T23:07:00.000-05:00

"The important thing is that in every way, whether for right or wrong reasons, they are preaching about Christ. So I am happy, and I will continue to be happy." Philippians 1:18

Lesson #5:

Remember What is Important

This final lesson is not so much a lesson I learned from Disney, but rather a lesson I learned from going to Disney, or really from coming home from Disney. As shared in a "blog gone by," our departure from Disney was somewhat more difficult than our arrival. After facing the rejection of an early bus to the airport, I loaded all the luggage on the golf cart and went to drop it off at the station and then returned to get the kids.

Packing the night before was all the fun you would think it would be. Trying to make sure we had everything collected (including all the various souvenirs and mementos that we had amassed over our week in Mickeyland.) Struggling to make dirty clothes fit in the same bags that had held them so easily when they were clean (ever noticed how much luggage space dirt must take up?) Attempting to decipher the obscurities of Airport Security so that our carry-ons would not have to be packed and unpacked in from of angry Homeland Security personnel who did not receive enough love as children. Trying to decide whether a Sleeping Beauty Doll could be considered a weapon? Finally, after many hours, we were packed (including the cutest little Mickey soaps and shampoos...you know they really depend on you to take those to keep the supply fresh don't you?).

I came back, picked up the kids, dropped them off at the station, returned the golf cart to Timbuktu and made it back just as our Magical Express bus pulled up. I showed the moderately friendly bus driver our tickets( apparently she has not yet graduated from Disney Friendly 101), helped her load our luggage, examined our plane tickets to know which gate we needed and then boarded the bus for the journey to the airport and home.

When we arrived at Orlando International and to the Southwest gate, we soon discovered that EVERYONE flies Southwest. We had arrived at the airport 3 hours before our scheduled departure, to join our place in the check-in line and to be informed by a "not so friendly" Southwest worker that we just "might" make our flight. (She really should have spent time at Disney University.)

So here we are, waiting in line with all our baggage and all our children. Somewhere between the Walt Disney World property and the airport, our children has been swapped for three look alike children who were tired and squirming and fighting because they no longer loved us (nor cared about the sacrifices that were made to give them this dad-blamed trip...word to the wise, guilt has not effect on 6 years olds!!!!) And it is at this non-Kodak moment that I have a revelation.

Now this is not some divine inspired John the Revelator kinda Revelation, although even more scary and hellish. Standing the waiting line of the Orlando International Airport, waiting to board our plane home, I realized that I had left my wallet, complete with credit cards, in the safe in our cabin! In a single moment we went from "vacationing family" to poor, destitute and alone.

I was still wearing the ID holder that I had used in the park. It had our driver's licences, so we would be able to board the plane. I had plane tickets. We could get home. I did have $80 in cash, so were not totally penniless. We could at least get something to eat and drink before boarding...and then I remembered....we had to pay parking at the airport! How much was that gonna be? No credit cards, no ATM card, nothing. Standing in line, sweating profusely and trying to perform higher math in my head (was is $15 x 5 days ...God please don't let it be $20!!!) Well, we still had a few snacks in the backpack, and we could use the cookie can for a water cup...OK, breakfast covered, cash for the parking...we might could just make this work.

We could get home, get the car out of the lot....gas...what about gas? How much gas was in the van? I had forgotten to fill up when we left home. I had a little over 1/2 a tank..we drove to Jackson...would we have enough gas to get home? Well, we would have to try....but we could get to Jackson and get the car out of parking...maybe a few dollars left for just enough gas to get us home....keys! Were my keys in the safe too? Where are my keys!?!

OK, Heather's keys are in the suitcase we just checked. We had keys...we could get home, had just enough cash to pay parking and buy gas...we would make it home....no stopping, no food, we could make this work.

Needless to say, we made it home. We had enough money for parking and to buy enough gas to get home. We had snacks for breakfast and lunch. We cancelled the cards. I found my keys in my carry-on. We promised God that now that He had so richly blessed us in letting us get home, we would never travel again (you know God really doesn't listen to such foolishness, don't ya?)

In all of our hustle and bustle to get everything packed and planned and ready to start the laborious journey home, I had forgotten the things that were truly important to our livelihood. We had the Mickey Soap, but were going to starve in the process.

Many times in life, we are guilty of this same kind of recklessness. Perhaps for some us we get so bogged down in our work, that we forget the family who is at home needing Mom or Dad. Some of us may get so caught up in new friends, that we neglect our old ones. Some of us may get so caught up in the politics of life, that we forget the truly important things. Some of us may get so caught up in the details that we miss the big picture. And I can safely say that all of us get so caught up in our troubles from time to time, that we forget our many blessings.

The church is just as guilty. If I had a nickle for the number of meetings I have sat in where the conversation was dominated by issues and arguments over things that in no way effected the Kingdom of God; I could stop taking a check and do ministry for free (BTW...if any church members are reading this blog, WE ARE NOT AT THAT POINT!!!!) If I could only count the number of times the church's resources and energies have been consumed by pointless and frivolous events and things, when real ministry was starving for lack of people and resources.

In all these cases, we simply forgot to "make the main thing the main thing," or to remember what is truly important. Writing to the church in Philippi, the Apostle was faced with a difficult situation. People were preaching in many different ways, with many different agendas and doing ministry in many different ways. Needless to say, folks were unhappy and fighting. I praise God that the Church has moved beyond such pettiness and discord (do you see the sarcasm literally dripping off the screen?). Paul wrote to them and said, "Look, I could really care less about the why and hows. I am only concerned about the whats. As long as Jesus is being glorified and proclaimed, I am happy. That is what is important...the rest is just details."

What a lesson for all of us to learn! It is time for us to put the important things back into perspective and practice in our personal lives and in our churches. It is time for us to get back to the importance of Jesus, and Grace, and Family,and Charity, and Holy Living. It is time for us to remember what is important. Jesus said, "Seek above all else the Kingdom of God," and the rest will work itself out. What a promise! Let's claim it together.

AFTER THOUGHTS:

I hope you have enjoyed my own personal "Gospel According to Disney." It was a wonderful trip we will always remember. The kids are already talking about Disney in 2014 (the new baby will be 4). It never ceases to amaze me how God is always teaching us, even in the most 'secular' of ways. Never stop learning. Never stop growing. Never stop loving your family. NEVER STOP READING MY BLOG!!!!!

Lessons from the Big Cheese: Coming and Going

2009-06-30T10:28:00.000-05:00

"Love each other like brothers and sisters. Give each other more honor than you want for yourselves" Romans 12:10

Lesson #4: It Is More About Those Who Are Coming, Than Those Who Are Going

Even with all of the crazy planning that had to be done, Disney is really very user friendly, especially if you are willing to turn your vacation, in its entirety, over the Mouse.

When we got ready to plan our trip, we used a good friend of ours who is a travel agent. We met Leigh when we planned our anniversary cruise last year. SHE IS WONDERFUL!!! She is also a certified Disney agent, which means she has all the inside scoop on planning your magical adventure.

But even if you choose to just work through Disney, it is still so very easy. About 4 weeks before we departed, Disney mailed us our package. It had all our confirmation numbers in it, with all the information we needed. It also included special luggage tags. From the moment we arrived in Orlando, it was all smooth sailing. We went to the Disney Magical Express station to board our buses that would take us to our resort. There was no lugging luggage because Disney was picking it up separately and then would deliver it to our cabin.

The bus, complete with Disney infomercials, took us to our resort. Check-in was great. The very over-friendly clerk gave us our cabin keys (which also act as charge cards at all Disney properties, as well as our meal card for our Disney dining plan), hand-picked the newest and best golf cart for us and gave us directions to our cabin. She also verified our Disney Dining Plan. Before we left, the concierge verified all our special dining arrangements. We rode our cart to our cabin and unloaded our carry-ons. We then drove it to the bus depot, parked and boarded a bus to take us to Epcot. Our cabin key/charge card/park ticket was all we needed in the parks. We returned by bus to our resort, rode our cart to the cabin where our luggage awaited, along with the special monogrammed mouse ears that Heather had ordered. Every detail covered. Every need met before we even had to ask.

Each day, armed with our magic card, we were chauffeured by bus, monorail, or boat to our destinations. Everything went like clockwork, down to the stroller rentals for tired kids and the motorized carts for tired and pregnant moms. Need a souvenir? Don't want to lug it in the park...no problem. Disney will deliver all your purchases to your room!

What more could you ask for...truly all inclusive. Just sit back, and enjoy the trip while Disney handles the logistics. Got a question, ask any cast member. If they don't know the answer, they get on their walkie-talkies and find it. Friendly, eager helpers everywhere you look. Disney guests are truly treated like royalty...that is until you check out.

Check-out morning arrives. We are notified the day before that our bus will leave at 7:50AM for the airport. As luck would have it, we were all up and ready earlier, so I called the every so friendly concierge service to see if she would arrange for us to take an earlier pick-up bus. She nicely (somewhat) informed me that I would need to call the service myself and see, but as I was no longer a guest of the Magic Kingdom, her computer would not allow her to access the system for me. So I called, and was turned down. So we loaded our luggage and the kids up and took them to the depot. I returned our handy cart, that had been waiting for us at the door upon arrival, to the cart shed and then trek the 1/4 mile back to the depot. The bus arrived and we loaded our own luggage on the bus. No more valet luggage service for us...we are no longer Disney guests. And then began the long trek through the airport lines for check-in and home.

While no one was every rude or disrespectful, it was amazing to me that those oh-so-eager and overly-friendly people that made our arrival divine, really did not have the time of day for us when we left. But it also makes sense (in a weird sort of way.) Disney is all about the experience. Once your experience is over, they have moved on to the next person whose experience is just beginning. You have had your turn in the spotlight, now it is someonelse's turn. I like to think of it this way, instead of in a "we have milked you for all your are worth and are now moving on to the next victim."

But there is a message here for the church. We should always be more concerned about who is coming, rather than those already here. But sadly, most churches do just the opposite. Take a look at where you church spends it majority of its time and energy. Is it on bringing new folks to the church, or keeping our members happy? Scary when you look at it, isn't it?

When writing to the church in Rome, the Apostle reminds them that they should always be more focused on their brothers, than on themselves. That is part of what it means to be a Christian. We are a people who are willing (and determined) to sacrifice ourselves so that others might come to know Christ.

Last night, I was sitting in a meeting with several other churches, planning an upcoming "youth" event. When our church was invited to co-sponsor we were told that this event was designed to reach out to the youth in our own churches, and in our community. So our wonderful Youth Minister (Jackie, hope you are reading this) and one of our youth (Carlee, you better be reading this!) went with me to the planning meeting. It was very interesting. Amid all of the "spirited discussions" it basically came down to a differing opinion on the audience for this event. If the event was directed toward youth, than everything about it should be directed toward youth. If the event is for families, than while there are youth elements, we need activities for children and older adults. This was really where the division came. Many saw it as more of a family event. We saw it as a youth event, and we all know that youth do not want to hang with their families. After much discussion, we came up with a good compromise and I am excited about the event.

But it still makes my point. Who are we most concerned about in the mission and ministry of the church? Disney makes no bones about it. They want to create a magical time for their guests. Once you are no longer a guest, you are truly no longer their main concern. The church needs to develop their own, similar understanding. Who is our target? Who is our priority? While we must never neglect anyone who is a part of the Body of Christ, we have to have a mission that then defines who we are and what we do. Some churches goal may be to take care of each other. That is great and wonderful. Other churches see their call as reaching out to those who are not in church. This is great and wonderful.

While the Bible is pretty explicit about which of these Jesus would prefer, we also realize that we need them all to care for all of God's children (there goes that kid focus again). Who is your focus? Does your mission and ministry reflect that? But whoever you choose, a word of advice, always provide help with their baggage! (think on that for a while and see how deep I can really be.)

Lessons from the Big Cheese: It Is All About the Kids

2009-06-28T13:35:00.000-05:00

"But Jesus called the children to him and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." Luke 18:16

Lesson #3: It Is All About The Kids

A third lesson we can glean from the Mickey man, is the simple truth that has made the Walt Disney Company one of the largest, most recognized and profitable ventures in the history of the world...namely, it is ALL ABOUT THE KIDS!

For what other reason, in a crappy economy, would people willingly (all be it stupidly for most) spend incredible amounts of money for long lines, overpriced food, and at times "happiness" that make you want to scream, or beat the cast member down to find their stash of the good stuff (I know I am not the only person who believes that Disney has to be passing out the special koolaid to have that many happy people). But people do, by the millions, each and every year. Why? Because Disney understands the "kid factor".

For those of you who do not understand this "kid factor" talk, let me elaborate. (For those of you who do understand it, you must be psychic, cause I am making this up as I go along!). The "kid factor" has two parts.

Part one, comes from being a parent. You learn the "kid factor" without even trying. From the first moment you are holding that sweet, tiny, helpless little bundle of perfection in your arms, you automatically lose a portion of your God given sense and are reprogrammed with this insatiable need to make this child happy. (I have witnessed that this process expounds in grandparents who lose ALL their God given sense in this regard...but that is another blog.) At that moment, you become bewitched and this will follow you all the days of your life. You want this little blessing to never hurt, to never have need, to never suffer. You want your little princess or prince to have childhood in its perfection. Couple this new level of crazy with a few well placed articles about non-human super parents in parenting magazines, and the "kid factor" goes into hyper-drive. Disney gets this, and milks it for all it is worth. While Disney understands parent's needs, everything is geared toward the children. From the Mickey face in the soap, to the the towel animals, to the rides, to the shows, to the character meals, to the character autograph obsession; it is all geared, experience by experience, toward your child. And we lap it up. In our determination to be the best parent in the world (and to perhaps hear those exact words from your child's lips) we plan, and spend, and run, and beg, and fight to make those special memories for our children. The "kid factor" part one: We want the best for our kids.

Which brings us to the second part of the "kid factor," namely, we all want to relive a new and improved version of our childhood. Disney does not discriminate when it comes to taking your money. Kids are not a prerequisite for paying the Mouse. Hence, "kid factor" part two. I defy anyone to spend a day at Disney, and not have the moment when you feel like a kid again. I will be the first to admit, my heart skipped a beat when we first saw the Mickey man. This is actually my second trip to Disney (once in High School, because back in my day, part one of the kids factor was not as important to parents...hence they are eat up with it as grandparents!) But even at 33, I got excited as I saw all those characters from my childhood.

Disney gets it. They understand that childhood is one of the most important times in life, and they want to make it the best for everyone. If you are kid, they want you to believe in magic. If you are grown-up, they want you to remember the magic. Childhood is the blissful time when things are simple, needs are simple, understanding is simple. And deep down, we will spend the rest of our adult life trying to reclaim that stress-free life.

And the same lessons need to be learned by the church. First, children are the most important folks in a family. They represent the future. They represent the hope for something better. Sadly, they are often the ones who get what is left over. If the church really wants to have the greatest impact on the world, we have to start by making children our priority. We must teach faith, before faith becomes complicated. We must teach love, when it comes so easily. We much raise followers, when following is what comes naturally. Second, all adults wish our lives could again be so simple. The church needs to do its best to bring simplicity into complicated lives.

Jesus told the disciples that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to children. That tells us a lot about what is important when it comes to God's Kingdom. Perhaps, in some ways, God's Kingdom is like the Magic Kingdom (I know some of my fundamentalist friends are smelling blood in the water). Perhaps God's Kingdom is a place where everyone is treated liked royalty..a prince or a princess. Perhaps God's Kingdom is a place where each and every moment is alive with joy and anticipation. Perhaps God's Kingdom is a place where everyone's life becomes simple and carefree. And, for good measure, we all know God's Kingdom is expensive..just ask the man who paid for it.

But a final connection between the two for me, is the one I am most excited about. Perhaps God's Kingdom, like the Magic Kingdom, is a place where we all connect. My greatest joy from Disney World was getting to connect with my children on such a basic level. Josh and I think Pluto is best (although ever much under appreciated). John and I think that all rides are a little scary. Lucy and I think that Sleeping Beauty will always be the most beautiful girl in the world (don't tell Mommy). Perhaps one of the greatest treasures of God's Kingdom will be when all of our divisions are stripped away and we understand the joy that comes from being connected in heart, mind, and spirit on what is truly important.

I don't know about you, but in that light, God's Kingdom sounds like a pretty happy and magical place to me. (especially since it will not the the pseudo-creepy Small World ride.)

Lessons from the Big Cheese: People Crave An Experience

2009-06-27T14:53:00.000-05:00

"For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, because anyone who serves Christ in this way is pleasing to God and approved by men." Romans 14: 17-18

Lesson #2: People Crave An Experience

One of my pieces of advice to anyone who is planning their own trip to The World of Mickey is to get the Disney Dining Plan. Food at Disney is expensive!!!! We got the Dining Plan as part of our package and we actually never used all the meals. Unless you perfectly plan each and every meal and have no crowds or waiting, there is no way you use all of your meals. We did use all our table service meals, but that is because we used them for the coveted "Character Meals."

Several years ago, before Disney was really a blip on our radar, Heather and I read this book written by a mom. In it she recounted planning for her daughter's Disney trip and how she had no idea that when it came to booking character meals it was such a big deal. And because of her failure to adhere to the suggested guideline of booking character meals 90 days out (some are even 180 days) her little princess was doomed to having "a bucket of chicken with Dopey." (I just love that image...after all this time I can quote still quote...Shakespeare not so much...useless southern comedy..every word). Well, Heather and I can speak from experience that 90 days is not a suggestion, but THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO THE MOUSE!!!! Picture us, 6:30AM our time, calling in (house line and cell phone) to get in the cue for the Disney Dining phone banks that open at 8:00AM Florida time...as we still had to wait 45 minutes to get through...but that is another story.

Needless to say we are good parents, and thus we got all our character meals booked on the 90th day so that Dopey and KFC were not the future our our princess's special day. But I digress (I warned you folks...but it is my blog so tough it out)

The Character Meals are truly amazing. Had it not been for the Dining Plan, we would not have done all that we did. These buffet meals start at around $60-$100 PER PERSON!!! (who said Mickey does not understand capitalism?) But we had made our bookings, used our plan and it was smooth sailing. Now I remind you, the actually dining is buffet. Now granted we are talking a step up from Ryan's or The Sizzler, but still "foodfest" none the less. So what would make seemingly intelligent moms and dads fork out 5 star restaurant cash for prime rib buffet?...why THE EXPERIENCE OF COURSE! And I can tell you truthfully, when I saw my princess sassy pants, complete with tiara, light up when Cinderella stopped by to chat; I would have at that moment sold my sons into slavery so she could have that moment (now calm down, I would have bought them back... eventually...and they loved hanging with the characters too!).

Our lives are so filled with the often monotony of our daily grind, that we are craving something special...something unique...something unforgettable. It has become a very part of our DNA. So we will put up with long lines, bad food, and incredible expense to just for a moment break into a whole new world (no pun intended for your Disney freaks...I know who you are). In his letter to the Romans, the Apostle reminds the early church that the Kingdom is not about everyday things...it is about divine encounters everyday!

As Christians, we have experienced first hand the most amazing moment in anyone's life...the moment when we encounter the Risen Lord. Our lives are never same. Even when we have to go back into the busyness and chaos of life, we can do it with a spring in our step and a song in our hearts (is that expression from a Disney movie too?). And every Sunday we have the opportunity when we gather together as the people of faith to relive that blessed moment when God's Holy Spirit reaches inside, cleans out the gunk, and fills us with His love. So why, have we boiled down the greatest experience of a lifetime into something 'white bread' and for some of us mediocre at best? We sing hymns that proclaim the goodness of God with faces that proclaim the loss of our best friend. We repeat the ancient words of prayer that have sustained the martyrs with less feeling than if we were calling to order pizza. We read the 'wonderful Words of Life' with the same interest we would have when reading the ingredients on the cereal box. And then we look around at our dwindling numbers and wondering why folks choose to sleep-in and head to the restaurants early to miss the church crowd.

People's lives are so filled with stuff, that they are starving for something real, honest, and life transforming. As Christians, we have that "water of life" that will cause them never to thirst again. Maybe it is time for us to prime the pump and let the water flow...and give the world the experience it is so desperately searching for when they are settling for "Dopey and Chicken."

Lessons From the Big Cheese: Everyone Has Something to Celebrate

2009-06-26T12:59:00.001-05:00

"Rejoice with those who rejoice..." Romans 12:15

Our trip to Disney World was really great. The weather was great, even with the afternoon showers. The service was impeccable. The crowds were even workable. And most of all the kids had a blast (yes, the big kids too!). But as I looked back over our trip to the House of Mouse, I realized that there are several things the church could learn from the Mickey. Even though we will never have his money (what is 10% of WOW?...and how can we make Mickey Methodist...you know we are great at taking the folks the SBC don't want!), we can learn a lot from his wisdom.

Lesson One: Everyone Has Something to Celebrate!

The theme for Walt Disney World this Year is "What will you celebrate?" Everyone has something to celebrate, and Disney wants to provide you with the magical way of doing so. They even have a program where you get in your favorite park for FREE on your birthday! Needless to say, the parks were full of birthday guests. Although not everyone can make it on their birthday, everyone deserves to join in the fun. We all have something to celebrate.

When we checked in, the kids were all given buttons to 'celebrate' their first visit to Disney World. As we made each meal reservation they asked us what we were celebrating, and for birthdays and anniversaries, they provided cake and candles. At each meal, there was a celebration time when everyone got to dance and sing and announce what they were celebrating. Heather and I wanted to do something fun for our kids, so we ordered special cakes (complete with pirate treasure chests and trinkets or a princess jewelry box....are we awesome parents or what?) and chose to celebrate Kindergarten graduation.

Everywhere you looked, people had buttons celebrating some event of other. They even had generic buttons that just said CELEBRATE! for those who were just celebrating vacation or life! It really was a 24hour 7 day a week party.

Imagine what church would be like if we recognized this simple truth? How would worship change if we let loose and chose to celebrate, not only individual joys, but the gift of God's Spirit? How would attitudes change if we challenged folks to focus on their joys, and not their problems? How would meetings change if we started with a prayer of celebration for all that God has done? I don't know about you, but I think that might just get us all one step closer to Heaven.

Celebrate! We have so much to Celebrate! So break out your dancing shoes and 'electric slide' around the living room with the family, and then dance on down the street to the church. Celebrate God's many blessings, great and small! Celebrate Mondays, and Well Days, and Sunny Days. Celebrate each and every moment. Today, I am celebrating air conditioning...what about you?

(Lucy "shakin' a tail feather in the Street Parade with Donald)

When Will We Get It Right?

2009-06-26T02:11:00.000-05:00

"When you talk, do not say harmful things, but say what people need—words that will help others become stronger. Then what you say will do good to those who listen to you. And do not make the Holy Spirit sad. The Spirit is God's proof that you belong to him. God gave you the Spirit to show that God will make you free when the final day comes." Ephesians 4: 29-30

Two weekends ago I was at Annual Conference. While most of it was filled the same old boring reports (with the exception of the Board of Medical Benefits...that guy is amazing) and business talk, there were some truly amazing, Kingdom moments that happened. Our Annual Conference raised over $100,000 to be used for feeding ministries and packaged 125,000 meals for foreign feeding projects. The Children of Africa Choir shared its amazing talent and testimony. We paid honor to all who serve in ministry, not just those of us who are ordained. We bid farewell to those who have joined the Church Triumphant, including my dearest friend, Faye Hudnall (Lord, love a duck, how we miss you!) But to listen to most of the conversation (mainly sparked by those opportunistic people motivated by church politics) and to read the paper, you would never know anything good happened. All the talk is over the testimony of an openly gay couple during worship Friday night.

I understand why some people are up in arms, but I think we might also be "missing the forest for the trees" (or throwing out the baby with the bathwater...which ever expression you prefer). In all of the excitement, many missed the simple message this couple was meant to share. It is sad to me that what could have been a true celebration of grace and hospitality became such a political hot button.

Now before I am crucified as a heretic, let it be known that I agree completely with the church's stance that homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching and living. But I do not believe for a moment that gay people are "more sinful" or evil. I believe they are good people who are struggling, just like the rest of us, and in need of grace. And would it not be amazing if they could be introduced to that grace in the church of all places?

My prayer is that our church could use this as an opportunity not to draw battles lines, but to have real conversation about what it means to love people in spite of sin...after all, isn't that what Christ does for us? But even in my limited experience in the UMC, it is so much easier to throw stones at each other over things, and sadly most often over issues that have nothing to do with building the Kingdom. I believe that homosexuality is an issue. I believe that repentance is a part of faithful living. I believe that the church should be a beacon of light in the world. I also believe that Satan would love nothing more than for us to spend all our energy arguing over "who is right and who is wrong" while the rest of the world "goes to Hell." (not in the figurative hand basket sort of way either!)

What would it look like if folks got this upset about lost families, hungry children, or lonely shut-ins? We live in a world that is destined to run out of food in the next decade, while we celebrate canned green beans at 2 for a dollar. We live in a world where the percentage of homeless people that are families has risen from 1% to 40% in just ten years, while we sit on our couches and obsess about American Idol. We live in a world where 1 in 5 people living in Nursing Homes has less that one visitor a month, while we spend our free weekends tailgating. We live in a world that is begging for the Good News and we want to argue about who is "fit" to sit in the pew next to us.

The pathetic truth is that behind all of the arguing is a age-old battle for power. It is a battle to decide who is going to "run" the United Methodist Church. Who would have thought, of all the things to disagree on, Christ's "followers" would be arguing over who was gonna lead?

Have we learned nothing from the Word that we claim to be protecting? Jesus said, "I came to give life - life in all its fullness."( John 10:10 NCV). Maybe one day we will remember that we are in the business of life...eternal life...not killing those who disagree.

Back in the Saddle

2009-06-25T17:30:00.000-05:00

"A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them."

Mark 2: 1-2

We made it. After the busyness of getting ready for vacation, a wonderful week at Disney World, a great weekend at Chrysalis, an interesting weekend at Annual Conference and a powerful weekend at The Orchard; the Harper clan has finally made it home. So now, we are wondering just when we get a vacation!!!! Life is busy busy busy, but I would want it no other way (at least I think so...I do remember hearing something about idle hands and the devil one time). So now that we are back in the groove, somewhat, I am sure I will have plenty more to say, and share, and write about. Thanks for your prayers during our travel time and during Annual Conference. Thanks for your patience as you have waited with held breath for my next blogs of wisdom (see what happens when you say nice things....BIG HEAD!) We are home, and glad to be there! We have missed Eupora, missed our house, and MISSED OUR CHURCH!!!! Can't wait to get back in the pulpit and see what God is gonna do!

Be on the lookout for my "Lessons from the Big Cheese"...what I think the church could learn from Mickey himself (when folks aren't boycotting....oops, did I say that?).

All in the Timing

2009-05-17T17:49:00.000-05:00

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live." Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 11-12

You know you are getting old when things that you might have once found boring, become the highlight of your week. Last week, even with the excitement of Kindergarten Graduation and end of the year fun, I was secretly most excited about my visit to Pappy Kershenstine's Beef Jerky Plant, right here in Eupora! This little gem of our Industrial Park employs just a handful of folks, and it a little known treasure of Eupora. In actuality there is only one place in Eupora that sales the stuff. Its main market is outside of MS.

On Monday of last week, the church office received a call from a very distressed young woman who lived in Texas. Her parents owned the plant, and her mother had recently passed away. Her parents were never really involved in church, and she was concerned about her father slipping into a depression. She was calling the area churches to see if any of us had some kind of outreach program to go and visit her Dad. Let us pause for a moment right here.

I do appreciate this dear woman's concern and her belief that if anyone could help her Dad it would be the church. But I think perhaps there was a better way of addressing this than a blanket calling of the area churches. If my father was 'old school Louisiana Cajun,' whose church involvement was spotty at best, I think I might be a little hesitant to bombard him with loads of well meaning church folks, and in doing so 'airing' his depression business. But that is just me. Now, back to my story.

Gwenn (my incredible church secretary) got the whole story and told her we would be in touch. She gave me the run down and I told her to call the daughter back and tell her we would do her one better than a visitation ministry, he would get a visit by the preacher! But, we were making this visit my way. With my previously mentioned take on the situation, I got Gwenn to call and set up an appointment to simply tour the facility. I found it incredibly interesting that we had a Beef Jerky Plant, and have always wondered just how they take perfectly good beef and make shoe soles. I was not coming to make a pastoral call, but simply to make an acquaintance and get some jerky. I have found in my experience that friends or even friendly acquaintances have better luck caring for someone in need than preachers do (no slight to my brothers and sisters of the cloth).

So the day arrived for our tour of the plant (I made Gwenn go to make it even less threatening, and because she knew how to get there). We arrived in front of the quaint little wooden building that almost looked like a restaurant. We went it, prepared for the experience of a lifetime and to do a little 'covert' pastoral care...and the Baptist had cut us off at the pass! Now, no offense to my brothers and sisters across the street. They had received the same call and had responded Tuesday night with a couple from their visitation program arriving at the dear man's house. Needless to say, he was not interested, especially when he learned about his daughter's community calling. So when the Methodist preacher showed up the next day, he could smell the conspiracy in the air and refused to see us. We did not even get the tour, but did get a consolation prize of some great jerky for the trip.

Many times, I think believers don't stop and consider timing. We see a need, we jump in head first, without a thought about circumstance or even the people we are trying to help. We just do what it is we want to do. And sadly our results are often disastrous at best. But if for just a moment we would think through the actions we are about to undertake, and perhaps consider first the people we are trying to care for, we might avoid the problems and isolation that is often created. Or, try this on for size, what if we stopped for a moment and really prayed about the situation and asked God what He thought?

God's timing is always right. Maybe the church should 'change our clocks' and get in sync. In doing so, we would show that we care more about the folks we are trying to reach, then about ourselves and our ways. And perhaps, just perhaps, we might always have success. For my church's part, we have a new test for ministry. Instead of doing what we want to do for others, we are gonna start by building relationships, and then asking our new friends what we can do for them. We might just be surprised by the answers and I know we will be surprised by the results. So until I actually get that tour, God and I will be talking a lot about the beef jerky man...and it really is good jerky.