"I asked for a car; I got a computer."

Don't you love it when the students teach the teacher?!?!?!

2011-05-22T21:39:00.003-06:00

This past Sunday I taught the 4th grade class at our church. For a variety of reasons (most having to do with the fact that my kids are too busy, and I travel too much), I didn't get the material for my lesson until Saturday evening at 11:00p.m. By that time, I was too tired to review it and come up with any sort of interactive learning opportunity, so I came up with a Plan B...(and no, we didn't play "Hangman" for the entire class period!).

I brought two simple things to class with me: index cards and doughnuts. I asked each person to write down a question about the Bible, God, or any other spiritual subject that had been weighing on their mind - a question they might be embarrased to ask or had just never gotten a straight answer to. In exchange for the index card, you got a doughnut! (I knew this would work on boys - had no clue it would work like a charm on girls as well!!!).

Now...I went to a Christian university and have enough hours to have a 'minor' in Bible, served as a ministry intern for three summers, have taught numerous Bible classes on a variety of topics to 3-year olds through senior adults. I figured I could handle anything a gaggle of goofy 10-year olds could hurl at me.

Man, did I WAY OVER ESTIMATE MYSELF!!!

I held 18 index cards in my hand...and I must admit that as I thumbed through them I got a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye. I got a couple of basic question about who wrote the Bible, how old it was, etc. Those types of questions I was prepared for. What I WASN'T prepared for was questions like:

"How do I know if I've been good enough to go to Heaven?"

"If God and Jesus were really the same person, then why did Jesus have to pray all the time?"

What if Heaven ISN'T real, and we're just wasting our lives?

It was in those few moments of scrolling through those cards that I had a moment of clarity. If I were to get a brand new computer with all the latest software...and I took that new computer home and started typing as fast as my little fingers could move...but got nothing on the monitor or received no sort of response from the CPU...I would say that I had a broken computer. I would take it back and exchange it for a new one.

I think that's what we (the church) have been doing with our kids. For years we pump them full of stories, facts and dogma...and never bother to listen to them. One of the questions I was asked today was, "How do I know when I'm ready to be baptized?" I quickly dove into my Church-of-Christ memory banks and rattled off the "Five Steps To Salvation" (hear, believe, repent, confess, be baptized)...and I was feeling like I really accomplished something...UNTIL one of the kids asked me, "So...how do we 'hear' God?" Thus began a simple five-minute conversation about how God talks to us. It was AWESOME - rarely had I taken the time to consider all of the ways that I can "hear" God...but all I had to do was "look at my computer" for the answers.

I'm not child psychologist, children's minister, or academic expert...but I think my children - ALL OF OUR children...have a lot more going on in their head about God than we give them credit for. Instead of dazzling my children with my prowess for Bible knowledge, it's high time I forge an open communication with these young men to ensure they feel comfortable discussing their concerns and fears with me.

How Much???

2011-02-08T22:29:00.003-06:00

Rarely does a meal with my children occur that I don’t hear this timeless, immortal question. I have come to expect it…and even find myself disappointed if the mealtime conflict never transpires.

The routine is pretty much the same each time. They’ll mow through any meat and starch on their plate leaving a lonely fruit or vegetable staring back at them.

“Jacob, eat your corn! Noah, eat your green beans! Elijah, eat your broccoli!”

Their bewildered, perplexed and tortured look is accompanied by the same question…

“How much?”

Often times, my answer is “All of it!” This immediately elicits a Brandoesque response (a la “Streetcar Named Desire”). Only instead of “STELLA”…the cry is “DADDY?!?!?!” You would think I had just asked them to give away their X-Box!

I guess I’ve conditioned them to give this response. It dates back to the times when they were learning to eat ‘big boy’ food, and we were practically begging them to eat healthy. In an effort to get them to eat SOMETHING, I allowed them to negotiate.

And years later the negotiation continues. Sometimes Dad is strong – other times, Dad covets peace and quiet…so he gives in.

Both of you reading this may have a range of thoughts on this subject…but before you make fun of me, ridicule me, or instruct me in the fine art of dinner table parenting, allow me to make a correlation.

In the 19th chapter of Matthew there is a wealthy man that comes to Jesus. He comes to Jesus for the very reason that many of us have come to Jesus. He wants something (that's another post for another time). Specifically…

He wants to go to Heaven!

He’s often identified as the “Rich Young Man” or the “Rich Young Ruler”…and many a sermon has been preached, using this ‘poor’ guy as an example, on the dangers of wealth. But there is a lot more to this story. And before Jesus ever got to the point where he asks this man to give it all away, I realize how much he and I have in common.

When he came to Jesus he had what sounded like a simple question. “What good thing must I do to inherit eternal life?” But his question is deeper than that. In other words, Jesus, tell me how to make the cut. Tell me how to pass the class. I don’t want an “A,” I don’t want a “B”…heck, I don’t even really NEED a “C”! I just need to pass.

Jesus, patiently, tells him to keep the commandments…to which the rich man asks, “Which ones?” I mean, surely Jesus didn’t mean ALL of them, did He? Would 70% of them be enough? Would He settle for 60%?

In two words, Jesus…..”HOW MUCH?”

God gave His very best for me – He gave His son. His one and only son. He emptied Heaven – left it vacant and bankrupt in an effort to express His love for me. But instead of straining to give God my all – my very best – I find myself negotiating with the Creator. I spend more time trying to figure out ways that I can shortchange God than I do serving Him. I call out to God, “How much is it going to take?” And when He replies, “All of it!”…well…I, too, become a whining, lukewarm, unsalty “Christian.”

All of it…because He is worthy of that…and then some!

Boo Hoo

2011-01-30T21:26:00.002-06:00

To say that I am emotional would be equivalent to saying that Mt. Everest is a hill. In short, I cry…

…a lot!

And it doesn’t take much to get the ol’ water works a-flowin’. Plus, it seems the older I get, the freer I am with purging the tear ducts. I get misty during just about every communion service at church; I get weepy when I pray with my sons; I blubber when just the right song comes on the radio (maybe I’m supposed to be taking hormone pills – I don’t know!)

But NOTHING makes me reach for Kleenex faster than a sad movie. So for your reading pleasure, here is a compilation of ten movies guaranteed to cause friends and family to call the local therapist on my behalf…

10. “Dead Man Walking” – Except for his portrayal of Spicoli in “Fast Times At Ridgemont High,” I could do without Sean Penn. But I loved “Dead Man Walking.” Granted, it has to be one of the most disturbing movies I’ve ever seen – watching a man walk from Death Row to the execution room was excruciating – but it was very well done. It’s impossible to think of yourself feeling sorry for a convicted murderer…but I cried through the last 30 minutes of that movie!

9. “Steel Magnolias” – Yes, it’s a chick flick…but yes, I’ve seen it…SEVERAL times. The scene at the cemetery is priceless, and the emotional roller coaster that Sally Field, Olympia Dukakis, and Shirley MacLaine take you on is perfect. I’m almost ashamed to admit that I watch it any time I come across it on TV…commercials and all!

8. “The Champ” – This is the first movie I remember crying in…and I couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 years old. When Jon Voight dies at the end, and Ricky Schroeder is screaming, “Don’t die, Champ – don’t be dead”…well, I found a lump in my little pre-pubescent throat.

7. “We Are Marshall” – I cry in about six different scenes…the plane crash, the scene with Coach and Nate Ruffin in the locker room, the “funeral end today” scene. It’s a powerful movie. Whenever I need a good emotional release, I queue up Nate Ruffin and the “my shoulder’s fine” scene.

6. “Marley And Me” – The dog dies…enough said!

5. “Godspell” – Okay…I don’t know that this ever was a MOVIE…but I fell in love with this musical when I saw my little brother, Greg, as the lead role of Jesus. For some reason, that performance impacted me…especially the scene at the end when Jesus is being killed. It was like watching my baby brother being killed…to save ME. It’s to the point I can’t even hear a song from the movie without needing a moment.

4. “Hoosiers” – Not really a “sad” movie…but I boo-hoo every time when Ollie hits the free-throw to win the regional final game, and when Hickory wins the championship game at the end.

3. “Old Yeller” – See #6.

2. “Mr. Holland’s Opus” – Saw this for the first time while riding on an airplane…and I genuinely felt sorry for the large gentleman next to me. I did more sniffling and tear-drying than he had seen in a long time. The scene with all of Mr. Holland’s kids coming back to play at his ‘farewell’ is absolutely beautiful.

1. “E.T.” – If you didn’t cry while watching this movie, you have no soul!

I could rattle off ten more...but I don't have any Kleenex with me at the moment...

He Deserves My Best

2011-01-22T23:14:00.002-06:00

Elijah thinks it’s funny to talk about dates that I had in high school. He is amazed that ANY girl would have gone ANYWHERE with me. Our conversation this past week made me think of this quintessential moment from my past…

It was my senior year in high school…and it appeared as though I was going to successfully navigate four years of high school without going to the Homecoming dance. This didn’t bother me a considerable amount. After all, I had roughly the same social skills of a leper and wasn’t exactly the most coveted dude walking the halls of Southwest High School.

Then one day a friend told me about a girl who needed a date to the dance, and that she had taken a certain interest in me. That rarely happened in my life, so after I verified my friend’s sanity I asked him to continue his story. Her name was Jennifer Schmidt. She was tall, beautiful, and a cheerleader.

And…in a nutshell…WAY OUTTA MY LEAGUE! There was no way I was asking her to go out in public with me. Surely there was a better offer waiting in the wings.

But after some not-so-gentle prodding from a GROUP of friends, I took a walk on the wild side and asked Jennifer to the dance. And she said, “Yes.”

Now…this is where the panic sets in…

…because I had to make this evening PERFECT! I was going to foul up this golden opportunity to be seen with this tall, gorgeous goddess. Everything had to be in order…so I put a plan in motion that consisted of extremes to which I have rarely gone.

I went shopping…by myself…bought slacks, a shirt, a tie and a jacket. Jennifer was not going to the dance with a slovenly-looking dork.

I polished my shoes…repeatedly. You could see my shoes from outer space…and I wanted Jennifer to be able to see OUR reflection in my shoes (how’s that for corny?!?!)

I bought cologne. Polo, to be exact. Jennifer was not going to stand next to a scentless buffoon.

I did sit-ups...lots and lots AND LOTS of sit-ups! On the off-chance that Jennifer hugged me, I was NOT going to let her wrap her arms around a mass of jello.

I sent Jennifer flowers. After all, she needed to know that I was looking forward to the evening.

I got my hair cut; I brushed and flossed my teeth an hour per day, and showered incessantly.

I wanted to be the best possible me I could be.

The evening? Well…it was a disaster…but that’s another note for another time.

Jennifer Schmidt was beautiful…but she wasn’t eternal. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t omnipotent. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t all-knowing. In my eyes, she was a goddess…but she wasn’t GOD. But oh the lengths that I went to in an effort to impress this mortal being.

Tonite, while studying for my class, I read the first two chapters of Genesis. Yes, I’ve read those verses MANY times before and heard the stories talked about in Bible class time and time again. But with that story of Jennifer rattling around inside my head, it gave me a different perspective on this magnanimous event that kicked off human history...

The One who did all that cool stuff and made everything…did that for ME!

And instead of going to great lengths to show Him how special He is to me, I give him a cursory “eh,” shrug my shoulders, and go about my day. I should be turning myself inside out to prove to Him that He is all that I live for…yet so often I treat Him as though He were an inconvenience to my daily routine. I serve Him leftovers, I give Him the used-up stuff, and I offer Him very little.

He deserves better.

No…He deserves the best...

Weekend Funnies

2011-01-17T10:50:00.002-06:00

This weekend was a weekend of celebration. Noah turns 8 on Monday (today)...and in our family, when it's your birthday the entire weekend is dedicated to you. Well you can't go a weekend in our house without some zaniness breaking out...especially when you got three boys that come up with some interesting things to say. For instance...

"Back to you, Brad" - I don't know who Brad is...nor do i know how this little gem got started, but sometime Saturday evening, Noah started throwing out a bunch of sentences by beginning with, "This just in..." So i don't know if he's channeling his inner news reporter or what...but we endured it all weekend. For example, "This just in - Dallas Maverick, Shawn Marion, can't read! Back to you, Brad." Or..."This just in - Darth Vader is really Luke's MOTHER. Back to you, Brad." I could go on...but you get the picture.

Intestines??? - Noah and his friends were upstairs taking turns trying to jump into a large box (this is guaranteed to be the next Summery Olympics event)....when i hear a thud accompanied with a moan of pain. I then heard Noah complaining that he had injured his intestines. The next day, I asked him how his intestines were feeling - he responded that they were fine. I then asked, "Noah, will you point to your intestines?" He gave me a strange, embarrassed look and pointed to what he THOUGHT were his intestines. "No, those are your..." (yeah, you know where I'm going...)

Class - I'm teaching one of the adult Bible classes at church on Sunday morning. This past Sunday Jacob insisted on going to my class instead of the 4-year old class. I asked him why - he said, "Your class is more fun...and I can't get in trouble in your class." I'm sure his father's lecture will send him scurrying back to his class on Sunday (but, in his defense, he did sit very quietly and took lots and lots of notes).

Shot Of The Century - In Noah's basketball game Friday night, time on the clock was winding down. A kid from Noah's team shot the ball. It bounced off the rim and started bouncing towards the sideline. Noah happened to be in the right spot, grabbed it, turned, and fired a desparation heave toward the basket as time expired. The shot hit nothing but net, and fans from both teams let out a collective yell. Noah, whose head is already enormous, puffed up like a rooster in a hen house. And the whole way home I endured questions like, "Is that the most amazing shot you've ever seen?" "Do you think anyone else my age could make a shot like that?" "Could LeBron James make that shot?"

Mini Earl Anthony? - We had a bowling party for Noah on Thursday night. And of all the clowns that showed up for that thing, Jacob (my 5-year old) won! Three cheers for bumpers!!!

Swing...And A BIG Miss!

2011-01-11T22:08:00.002-06:00

Kids are honest...BRUTALLY honest! So if you want an unfiltered, no-holds-barred opinion, just ask one of your children. EVENTUALLY, I'm told, they reach the age where you really have to drag information out of them...but my kids aren't there yet. Case in point, if any of my three knuckleheads are standing over me while I'm seated, I'm guaranteed to receive a comment centering around Rogaine, Bosley, or other hair-restoration product.

My children remind me that my body is in the firm grip of gravity, and that it would be best for me to wear long pants and a sweater when I go to the swimming pool.

I'm not funny. I'm not real athletic. My nostrils are exceptionally large. I yell too much. My car is ugly. I like weird music. And the fact that their mother would lower herself to marry a guy like me is totally lost on them.

You get the idea?

I've been reading a book called "Crazy Love." I've read it over...and over...and over. The author, Francis Chan, had me sold at the Preface. He begins by explaining that he thinks the Church has missed the boat, but he thought it was only him that felt that way. Until, one day, he stood in front of a crowd of 20,000 college students and posed that question to them. Every hand in the arena went up confirming Chan's philosophy.

I love God. I love Jesus. I want to spend eternity in front of the glorious throne of God, worshipping him with every ounce of my being. I want my wife there. I want all three of my boys there. I want my friends, my family, EVERYONE there with me.

And I want people to know I love God. I want them to know that He is the top priority in my life - that every decision I make is centered around Him and His will for me.

Which leads me to a random experiment I conducted a few weeks ago. Elijah (my 10-year old) and I were riding in the car together. I don't know where we were going (it's not important), when I was moved to ask a riveting question:

"Elijah, do you think that Daddy loves God?"

He look puzzled by the fact that I was ask him that. "Yes," he said simply.

Good! My life must be a great testimony to the fact that I love God. So I went to the next question..."How do you know that I love God?"

He didn't answer so quickly this time. "Uh, we go to Church every Sunday," he said. "And we set up the chairs in the church gym after basketball practice."

I sat there silently, hoping that Elijah would have an epiphany that would cause him to recollect those acts of love, charity, and selflessness that I had heaped on the less fortunate.

But who was I kidding? God was using my 10-year old as a human mirror. He was showing me the reflection of my spiritual body...and it looked flabbier and more unsightly than the physical one. It was embarrassing - humiliating. Deuteronomy tells me that, as a Dad, I'm supposed to be telling my kids about God and all that he's done regularly...yet my son thinks my only expression of love for God is a token hour on Sunday - 1/168 of a week.

So like an obese person who looks at themselves in the mirror and confesses, "I gotta change something!"...I make that same declaration.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - read "Crazy Love." Open your heart, mind, and soul to not just the words that Francis Chan writes in his book, but open it to the words that flow from God's HOLY book. It's time for me to KNOW God. I've met Him - He and I have been acquaintances for a long, long time. But I think I've missed something.

Random Top Ten List - Musical Introductions

2011-01-10T22:42:00.002-06:00

This past Saturday the Campbell's (with Mother-In-Law in tow) took a field trip to the American Airlines Center to watch the Dirk-less Mavs take on Dwight Howard and the Magic. Our evening got off to a rocky start, and it looked like the Campbell's weren't going to quite make it in time for the starting lineups. This announcement brought about great ire from my oldest; thus confirming the fact that he IS a product of my gene pool...as the starting lineups is just about my most favorite part of a basketball game.

Back in 2006, the great Shawna Lavender (women's basketball coach @ Abilene Christian University) helped me mark an item off my bucket list by letting me be the Public Address announcer for the women's basketball games at ACU. It wasn't done in front of 10,000 screaming fans, but it was still a dream come true to get to do that. And you can ask Robin - I was downright giddy about ensuring that the game started off the right way.

Nothing is more depressing than watching a disinterested dad glumly welcome you to a coliseum and tell you who's playing. It needs to be fun, exciting, interesting...

...and music is the best way to make that happen!

So here, for the viewing pleasure of both folks that read my blog, are the top ten all-time songs for introducing a starting lineup:

10. "Enter Sandman" (Metallica) - The selling point with this song is the gradual crescendo. A single acoustic guitar slowly morphs into an orchestra of drums and distortion...while giving the P.A. guy plenty of time to run through the home team's starting five.

9. "She Sells Sanctuary" (The Cult) - I'm an Ian Astbury fanatic, and this is one of my most favorite songs of all time. So I'm a bit biased on this. But the quiet, serene opening eight bars of this song quickly transition to a rocking melody. The one drawback is that you would probably have to loop the song to get through the entire starting five.

8. "Eminence Front" (The Who) - This is the song the Mavericks use, and it has a groovy synthesizer beat. It goes great with a laser show, and the lyricless introduction lasts forever. Good tune!

7. "Poker Face" (Lady Gaga) - I know, I know...I can't believe I put this on here, either. But you gotta admit...the first 20-30 seconds of that song are downright intoxicating. And, again, it would be a nice laser show compliment.

6. "Turbo Lover" (Judas Priest) - This was the song I originally wanted to use for the ACU starters...but for a variety of reasons I thought better of it. This isn't the hard-driving heavy metal piece one expects from Priest - it has an eclectic/galactic sounding guitar intro combined with some synthesizer. The lyrics start pretty quickly after the intro (and they're not very nice lyrics, either), so once again looping is necessary.

5. "Stranglehold" (Ted Nugent) - When I was a kid, the wrestler Kerry Von Erich would run to the ring with this song playing. The guitar intro is great with some complementing drums shortly thereafter. More not-so-nice lyrics means looping or censoring is necessary.

4. "Welcome To The Jungle" (GNR) - This probably gets over-used...but I don't guess it ever gets old. The familiar guitar riff with a screaming Axl Rose can work a crowd into a frenzy in nothing flat.

3. "Jump" (House Of Pain) - Nothing like three nice Irish rappers to encourage a crowd to begin jumping in unison. It works!

2. "Iron Man" (Black Sabbath) - The sheer evil sound of the guitar and Ozzy's crazy, distorted voice make a great lead in for the home team. Great drums, great sound!

1. "Hell's Bells" (AC/DC) - The San Diego Padres hit a home run (sorry - couldn't help that one) when they began using this song when Trevor Hoffman would enter the game. How many rock'n'roll songs use a bell from a clock tower?!?!?! But what an ominous sound. Definitely the best!

Wait 'Til Your Father Gets Home!

2011-01-09T22:13:00.002-06:00

It's the words that no child ever wants to hear. And it's not just the impending thrashing that caused the dread to billow in one's mind. Like Tom Petty says, "The waiting is the hardest part."

I'll bet my mother uttered those immortal words a hundred times before I reached the age of ten (by that time, she grew weary of waiting and had taken to beating me herself. Switch, flyswatter, clothes hanger, rolling pin - whatever she got her hands on first would suffice).

When she would make this announcement she would abruptly gesture with one hand toward my room...and off I would trudge to the 'penalty box' to sit in shame until Dad got home. When Dad showed up to the house it wasn't a big surprise, though. Dad drove a VW Bug for as long as I can remember. You could hear the sound of his chariot from a block away. To this day, that all-too-familiar engine sound can still cause me to jump and twitch nervously in fearful anticipation of what was to come.

The most tragic thing about days like this wasn't just the fact I was about to get a beating...it's that it robbed me of running out to see Daddy. My brothers and I loved sitting by the front window waiting for Dad to pull into the driveway. The three of us would crawl all over each other to be the first person to hug Dad. NOT getting to participate in that Battle Royale was tortuous.

And now that I'm a Dad, I know how much my dad must have hated these kinds of days. I hate walking in the door only to learn that one of my boys is up in their room waiting to be punished. I want to come home and hug my family - not do my best impersonation of Ivan the Terrible. So I feel confident my father felt the same way.

One of my most favorite books of the Bible is 1st John. It's a book that talks about the love that we are to have for one another, for ourselves, and for our God. It's a letter written by a father BEGGING his 'children' to get their attitudes right so that their Father will be pleased.

In 1st John 2:28 he writes, "...continue in Him, so that when He appears we may be confident and unashamed." I love hearing my Dad tell me he was proud of me. I'm 41 years old, and I still enjoy hearing those words.

I want my Heavenly Dad to find me sitting by the window. I don't know when He will be home...but I sure hope He will be proud of you and me...

Oh No They Didn't

2010-12-24T08:20:00.003-06:00

I LOVE CHRISTMAS!!! It's the season of giving, and a time when the world turns its focus to the birth of our Savior. And I love everything about Christmas - the lights, the food, the shopping, the gifts, the movies, and...most of all...the music! Christmas music is great, and nothing gets me more in the mood for the holiday than hearing "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year."

So I logged onto my music service a couple of weeks ago to download some of those timeless Christmas favorites. I love the modern tunes as much as the classics (U2's rendition of "Baby Please Come Home" is probably my favorite). SO as I scrolled through the catalog of available holiday songs, I was stunned by the number of Christmas albums out there. Everyone...

...and I mean EVERYONE...has released a Christmas album!

So I did a little sampling of some of the music out there. Most of it was great...but not all of it is good. SO...here is a friendly little peak at some of the Christmas albums to avoid...

The Beach Boys - Granted, I like the Beach Boys as much as the next person...and their 1964 album with "Little Saint Nick" on it is great. But in 1990, Brian Wilson struck out on his own to release a solo Christmas album. AND THEN, they reunited to do ANOTHER Christmas album in 1998. This trend wreaks of "WE NEED MONEY!" Once is enough, gentlemen. Special acknowledgment goes to Barry Manilow, Michael Bolton, and Johnny Mathis who also released multiple albums.

Billy Idol ("Happy Holidays - A Very Special Christmas Album") - Yes, I'm sure it's special...so gather the family around to hear the punk music pioneer that gave us "Flesh For Fantasy," "Rock The Cradle Of Love," and "Dancing With Myself" (then anthem of 'self love') sing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "Silent Night."

Barbara Streisand ("Christmas Memories") - REALLY?!?!?!? Wouldn't that be like Alabama getting back together to release a Kwanzaa album?

Elton John - His compilation, entitled "Elton John's Christmas Party" is full of Christmas classics. But the sheer thought of going to an Elton John Christmas Party makes me fear Mistletoe like never before!

The Oak Ridge Boys ("Christmas Cookies") - Giddy up, a oom-pa-pa, oom-pa-pa, NO NO!

Twisted Sister ("A Twisted Christmas") - Their rendition of "O Come All Ye Faithful" is awesome, and follows the same chord progression as "We're Not Going To Take It." But from there...eh...

Lynyrd Skynyrd ("Christmas Time Again") - Grab the Jack Daniels bottle and a folding chair and head to the front porch to hear the Southern rockers sing old favorites like "Santa's Messin' With The Kids" and "Santa Claus Wants Some Lovin.'"

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

Best Christmas Movie Ever...?

2010-12-20T21:58:00.002-06:00

I'm officially in the Christmas spirit.

I can say that as i finally made time to watch my favorite Christmas movie of all time. Though there are more than a dozen adaptations of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," my favorite is the 1970 musical rendition starring Albert Finney.

Not only does it produce the spookiest specter of Jacob Marley (played by Sir Alec Guiness), but it makes each of the characters more genuine and true-to-life than the others. One's heart goes out to Bob Cratchet and his family as they struggle to make ends meet while searching for a cure for Tiny Tim. It's easy to get the sense that Scrooge's nephew holds a sincere place in his heart for his miserly uncle. And you can feel the fear of each person indebted to Scrooge as he approaches them for payment.

But more than the characters, it's the intensity of the discourse that takes place between Ebenezer Scrooge and his former partner that I enjoy. Marley is explaining to Scrooge why he is wearing a massive chain around his body, and scrooge is obviously baffled that a man who was so wealth in life has succumbed to such a lowly stage in death.

"You were always a good man of business, Jacob," Scrooge says to Marley.

I've watched this movie every Christmas that I can remember. It used to come on every Christmas Eve night, and my brothers and i would watch it together, sing all the songs, and wait anxiously for the scene when Scrooge would wake up in Hell.

But for the first time in 40 years, I LISTENED to Marley's retort to Scrooge: "mankind should be our business Ebenezer!"

I think about all of the time that i spend at work. The amount of time I spend traveling, checking email, answering phone calls, attending meetings, and other various sundry activities that make up a work day...and compare it to the amount of time i spend on 'mankind.' The comparison is shameful.

I know nothing of Charles Dickens as person. I don't know anything about his theology, his views on God, eternity or the like...but i can think of no other movie line that embraces the message that Jesus shared while he was on the earth. Jesus warned that whatever we did to the "least of these" we did also to him. Jesus spent time touching people no one would touch, speaking to people no one acknowledged, and embracing the ones that others shunned. As the old hymn says, He is the "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind." We spend countless hours at work for our respective business...but how much time do we spend on His business?

Mankind should be OUR business..."

Did You Say "Hosea"?

2010-12-15T00:23:00.002-06:00

I plopped down in my seat and waited patiently for the fine folks of Iowa to de-ice my plane so I could get the heck out of Dodge (or Des Moines, as the case may be). The Sudoku puzzles in my “American Way” magazine were all completed, and I have the oldest cell phone still in service…so it wasn’t like I could play a game or surf the web. So I nestled into my American Airlines seat, reached into my bag and grabbed my Bible.

It had been a long two weeks away from my home and my family, and I needed some spiritual rejuvenation. So I squeezed my eyes tightly and asked God to help guide my hands to some inspiration from His word. And where did my prayer take me…?

The book of Hosea.

(No, seriously…there REALLY is a book in the Bible called Hosea! It’s in the Old Testament…and as a card-carrying member of the Church of Christ, we all know that the Old Testament is no longer valid, right?)

In all seriousness, I knew very little about Hosea except for the fact that he was married to a woman named Gomer. In my heart and mind I’m still an eight-year old, so it’s very difficult for me to hear or read the name "Gomer" without thinking of Jim Nabors talking to Sergeant Carter in that amplified drawl of his. Other than that, I had never spent any time with this minor prophet from the Old Testament. But I decided to rely on the wisdom of the Father…so I dove in. And I was blown away by the first two chapters.

For hundreds of years God had been trying to communicate to his people. He tried a variety of means to teach and instruct them. Brought them out of Egypt, endured their grumbling, gave them a promised land, rescued them from a litany of bad guys, and made them a great kingdom of the ancient world. But it wasn't enough to satisfy them. And evidently, by the time the prophet Hosea came on the scene, God had decided it was time for the ultimate in object lessons. Now I don’t know how old Hosea was, but I gotta think he was a younger man…because God told him it was time to for him to find a wife. And best of all, God was even going to tell him precisely where to go to find this new love of his life.

To a prostitute!!??!?!

God told Hosea to go find a local harlot and make her his bride. I don’t know about you, but if I had wandered down to the corner of Rosedale and Hattie in Fort Worth or Harry Hines Blvd in Dallas and chose the future Mrs Campbell from one of those street corners, my parents would have moved and not told me where they had gone. That would be the the absolute last place anyone would go to find that special someone.

Why not have Hosea go to the synagogue? Why not to the most noble family in town? Why not to friends of his family?

Enter the object lesson…

God wanted his newly ordained prophet, the man he was sending to the house of Israel, to understand just how frustrated he had become with his people. And He was comparing the children of God to a hooker. Someone who, for the right price, would fulfill any desire. Someone who would assume any identity without any thoughts of loyalty or commitment. Someone who would be yours for a brief time, and then someone else’s in the span of five minutes.

Not exactly the most complimentary of comparisons…OUCH!

But Hosea did exactly as God instructed. He found a prostitute named Gomer, married her, and treated her like a queen. But she was unable to put her past behind her, so she left Hosea and went back to the streets. Hosea must have been crushed. To give your heart, mind, body and spirit to someone and receive nothing in return would be devastating. But God told Hosea to go after Gomer, to bring her back into his home, and to love her more than he had before.

God hurt for Hosea…because he knew exactly how Hosea felt. God gave his heart, mind, body and spirit to a wayward people. A people with no commitment to any one thing. A people who were blown hither and yond by the wind. But He came to them and said, “I will be your God, and you will be My people.” But they left Him…and He brought them back. They left Him again…and He brought them back. And over and over and over the cycle went. Until He decided that giving His Holy heart, mind, body and spirit wasn’t enough…so he upped the ante with His Son.

And yet so many STILL leave Him…

…but He still wants us…ALL of us…back.

A Lesson From Jacob

2010-12-06T21:43:00.002-06:00

A couple of weeks ago Elijah and I were working on his science project. We were doing a lot of measuring, so I had been using the tape measure quite a bit. Jacob was obviously fascinated with this brightly colored box that, when you pushed a button, caused this long skinny piece of metal to come flying back at you. So while Elijah and I were putting the finishing touches on his Nobel Prize winning project, Jacob decided to try his hand at the tape measure.

Five minutes into HIS project, I hear the tape measure quickly retract. The next thing I hear is Jacob exclaiming, “OH GREAT! Now I have to go to time out!” And he quickly stood up and stomped off to his customary place of punishment. As he was going to the place of shame, I walked over and found that the tape measure had broken off and gone back inside its casing. It wasn’t his fault as this old tape measure has been in my possession for almost twenty years, and it was worn and frayed.

So I went to go rescue my son and tell him that it wasn’t his fault.

Jacob did something he thought was wrong, and he instantly punished himself. Robin and I joked about how well we have him trained – you screw up, you go to timeout. Three cheers for rigid, drill sergeant parenting!

But I’ve also thought about the fact that I don’t want ANY of my boys to feel that their Daddy’s only job is to punish them. I’ve told all three of them NUMEROUS times, “I don’t like it when y’all get in trouble. It’s no fun spanking your kids.” (okay...maybe just a tiny bit).

But then I’ve also thought about how indicative this is of the relationship God and I have had for most of my life. I screw up, and I instantly start beating myself up or thinking of some way to do some sort of penance to compensate for the way I’ve disappointed Him. It’s a horribly legalistic way to think about it, but deep in the recesses of my mind I still feel like I have to be GOOD ENOUGH…that I have to do enough right stuff in order to earn the love of my Heavenly father.

So I try, with all my being, to let Elijah, Noah and Jacob know that there is nothing they could ever do to make me stop loving them.

Ironically, God has been trying to have that conversation with you and I for years.

Live Like We're Dying

2010-11-13T19:14:00.003-06:00

On this cool, crisp November morning, my oldest son and I set out on an adventure across town to run in a 5K event benefiting a co-worker of mine. Will Steele suffers from a rare form of cancer - and he is waging a battle for his physical life.

I LOVE to run. I've been doing it for almost 20 years now. And as I explained to a lady at the race, I'm a runner...but not a "strategic" runner. In other words I don't set out to win race or set personal records. Rather, running is my therapy. It's my chance to be alone, to reflect on the day, to commune with the Father, or to even sing at the top of my lungs. So it was a no-brainer to make a small contribution to this great man's quest for freedom from his disease.

On the way to the race I was explaining to Elijah who Will was, how sick he was, and what the purpose of the race was. Elijah's favorite game is "Twenty Questions" - the kids is going to make a great attorney one day, because he can beat you into submission with questions. So we talked about cancer, chemotherapy, radiation...and then death and eternity. He ended his stream of questions with "Is Will going to be in Heaven?"

I tried to explain that only God determines that...but based on what I know about Will, I feel confident that God and he will continue to spend lots of time together...but that I don't think Will is ready to sign off just yet.

So we get to the race, we run our three miles, and we decided to stick around to see who won the different age groups (yes, Elijah got second in his age group; as for me...well...you know...). While we were waiting, the DJ who was playing music throughout the event played a song that had this echoing mantra of "We gotta live like we're dying."

And I got real choked up.

I am in the best shape of my life. I eat healthy to the point that folks at work make fun of my obsession with fruit. And even though I know that my body is mortal, I've been living my life like I'll be around forever. I worry more about my retirement than I do about my judgment. I worry more about getting kids to college than I do about pointing my kids toward Heaven. I worry more about navigating my way to a promotion versus navigating my salvation (with fear and trembling, Paul says).

I do not envy Will. He's young (only 33) has a beautiful wife, and three sweet little kids. And his long-term prognosis isn't good. But when you talk to him and you read his blog...HE GETS IT! And I think I get it, too.

I'm terminal. I'm dying. I just don't have a doctor speculating on when my time will come. But it's high time I start living like I'm dying.

Veteran's Day Reflection

2010-11-11T11:20:00.002-06:00

I don’t know if Veteran’s Day is a day to be “celebrated,” but it’s certainly a day to be honored.

As the generations have rolled by, we have become more and more desensitized to war and to the responsibility involved in being a part of our military.

Today, in 2010, I can go to GameStop or any other retail outlet and purchase literally dozens of video games that will allow me to pretend that I’m a soldier, pilot, or sailor engaged in the throes of battle. And if I get wounded or killed…oh well, I’ll just start the game over. I can go to Blockbuster or Netflix and rent one of HUNDREDS of movies that attempts to portray the gut-wrenching and gut-spilling details of hand-to-hand combat. But as gory and emotional as those pictures can be, we can still get up, push “Stop” and “Eject,” and go on about our lives.

But today, halfway around the world, there is no “Stop” or “Eject” button. It’s not a movie, it’s not a game, and it sure isn’t fun.

Today, in 2010, parents shudder at the thought of their 16-year old son or daughter getting behind the wheel of a car and driving off into traffic. As parents, we do our best impersonation of a hovercraft as we follow our children everywhere making sure they cross every “T” and dot every “I”. As parents (and I’m the WORST at this), we enable our children’s laziness by exempting them from chores and other tasks that, a generation ago, were just part of everyday life. And when a teenager expresses interest in joining the military versus going to college, many of us wrinkle our noses, scratch our heads and think, “Really? Why would you choose to go that route?”

Yet 70 years ago, kids that same age were storming beaches, toting automatic weapons and flying airplanes with tons of explosives. Boys who were 13-years old were lying about their age just to have the opportunity to join the fight for freedom. Many of them never came home. Some of their bodies were never found. Some of them were so badly destroyed it wasn’t worth sending them home to their families to be buried. Instead, they were buried at sea. Or they were buried in mass graves. Or they were buried by foreigners in towns whose names you can’t pronounce. They never got to live the “American Dream” – never had a 401K or a house with a white picket fence. They never vacationed in the Bahamas, Cancun or Disneyworld. They never got to grow up or grow old.

The ones who did come home returned with visions burned in their memory. Visions of holding their best friend as he breathed his last; visions of the look in another man’s eyes as he was engaged in a kill-or-be-killed moment; visions of sleepless nights, exhausting marches, pain and suffering. Visions that, even today, bring tears to the eyes of a 90-year old man.

So today, in 2010, I’m tapping away on a laptop in a beautiful house with a great family and all the food I can stuff in my face. Today is Veteran’s Day…but tomorrow should be Veteran’s Day as well. And the next day…and the next day…and the next day…

I'm Your Son

2010-11-09T22:29:00.001-06:00

Not only is “Parenthood” one of the greatest movies I’ve ever seen, it’s also a heart-wrenching look into the life long journey of being a mommy and daddy. Steve Martin, Rick Moranis, Jason Robards, Tom Hulce, and a slew of other actors portray a family on this rollercoaster ride…and does a beautiful job of personifying the adage, “Once a parent, ALWAYS a parent.”

And no scene from the movie depicts this better than a conversation between Larry (Tom Hulce) – the youngest of four children – and his father (Jason Robards). Larry has a gambling problem that has caught up with him. He owes more than $25,000 to bookies who will kill him if he doesn’t pay up. For years, his father has saved him from one desperate situation after another. He finds himself literally pleading for his life this time as he says to his dad, “You gotta help me – I’m your SON!”

The Bible is full of great themes – faith, hope, love, community, fellowship, compassion. This past Sunday we talked about another theme – rescue. The Bible is brimming with accounts of men and women rescued by the Holy One. Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord and was rescued from the flood. Isaac was rescued from the hand of his own father. Joseph was rescued from countless circumstances to become the second in command of Egypt. Moses, Joshua, Rahab, Gideon, Elijah, Jeremiah – all of these were rescued from certain death by the grace of God.

When Jesus came on the scene, he continued the rescue business that his Father had started more than a thousand years earlier. He laid his hands on the unlovable and preached the good news of hope to the hopeless. And even today that same message rings true for us. God is still in the rescue business.

And the greatest irony about our rescue is that it came about because God REFUSED to rescue His own. As Jesus was hanging from those rough pieces of wood he looked up to Heaven and, in a manner of speaking, cried out, “You gotta help me – I’m Your SON!” What Dad wouldn’t offer up his own body to not see his son in pain? What mother wouldn’t gladly trade places with her daughter who was entrenched in suffering. We wouldn’t dream of turning a deaf ear. The thought of turning my back, covering my ears and walking away makes my stomach turn.

Yet that’s what the Father did.

So as I sit here tonight watching my sons sleep, I try to comprehend the rescue mission that God set out on for me.

Ten Years...

2010-11-08T22:31:00.005-06:00

Today my oldest son turns ten. It hardly seems possible that Elijah has been in my life for a decade. It just seems like yesterday that we woke up on a cold, SNOWY Saturday morning to head to Wilson N Jones Hospital for our first adventure in parenting. The years are flying by and they’ve been filled with so many great memories. And since I have an affinity for top ten lists, I figured I would share another one. So here are ten memories from ten years of my oldest son.

10. When we were in Abilene, Robin and I coached the girls’ basketball team at Abilene Christian High School. Elijah was three years old when we started doing this, and he loved all the attention from the girls. But instead of calling them the Panthers or mommy’s team, he referred to them as “Mommy’s Ladies.” So to this day Robin and I still refer to that group of girls as “Mommy’s Ladies.”
9. Elijah was maybe 18 months old as we were sitting in church on a Sunday morning. He was down on the floor driving a toy car back and forth in the pew while the sermon was taking place. The preacher was talking about the power of prayer, and the first time he said “pray” Elijah quickly looked up, tossed his car to the side, folded his hands and then bowed his head. Robin got tickled, and I got a little teary-eyed.
8. Walking through the Midway Mall in Sherman…when Elijah found a jukebox that was playing a variety of CD’s. He was just learning how to read really well, and went up to the jukebox to test his skills. Unfortunately, the CD that was visible was AC/DC’s “Back In Black.” And Elijah’s eyes went straight to Track 5…and he read (LOUDLY): “LET…ME…PUT…MY…LOVE…INTO…YOU.” Embarrassing for me, but it entertained all the ladies at the perfume counter.
7. His first picture with Santa Claus. This face is the same face that could be seen anytime a mascot or Chuck E. Cheese happened to walk by as well.
6. The time he did an awesome disappearing act at the Old Navy in Abilene. One moment he was there – the next he was gone. I ran around the store calling his name, had the manager call Mall Security and alert all of the stores in the Mall…only to find him sticking his head out of a rack of clothes that he was HIDING in.
5. I learned a lot from my little guy one day in downtown Chicago. We were walking back to the hotel we were staying in when we came upon a homeless family sitting in the streets. I grabbed some change out of my pocket, tossed it in their bucket and kept walking. Elijah asked me, “What did you do that for?” I said, “Those people don’t have a home, so I wanted to help them.” “Can I give them some of my money,” he asked? So we turned around. Elijah reached into his wallet, pulled out a $10 bill and put it in the family’s bucket. Best sermon I ever “heard.”
4. In truly one of the worst experiences of my entire life, I took Elijah AND Noah to the health department to get their annual vaccinations. This link says it all: http://chriscampbell.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html
3. When Elijah was a baby, as one of us would feed him and rock (or WALK) him to sleep, he would grab the skin on your elbow and rub it. To this day, if I’m close by and he starts to get sleepy, he STILL will grab my elbow and start rubbing it.
2. Any drive with Elijah that lasts more than 15 minutes has one thing in common: I will be asked the question, “How many more towns do we have to go through before we get to . At the age of 3, Elijah could name every city between Fort Worth and Abilene – yes, even the ghost towns of Thurber and Mingus!
1. Robin was enjoying her Demerol Cocktail the night that Elijah was born…and it was just he and I. We sat up all night together. I sang every song I could think of to him, although I kept coming back to “Bad” by U2 and The Ramones rendition of the theme from “Spiderman.” That was a special moment for me. My first night as a father – the first night of a journey. This journey has seen two more little traveling companions join the ride, and I feel blessed that THE FATHER has entrusted THIS father with those precious gifts.

Around The Campbell's Dinner Table

2008-11-17T18:52:00.002-06:00

If your house is anything like ours, you know how hard it is to have dinner together as a family So it was a rare treat this evening at the Campbell's...as I was able to escape work a bit early so that we actually got to eat dinner together!

And it's a good thing we did!

We are sitting there discussing the day's events, listening to our 3-year old, Jacob, drone on about some imaginary project that he was working on...when I caught an angle of Noah's head that grabbed my attention. Maybe the wind had blown his hair funny...or maybe he laid on it wrong while watching TV...but his hair just didn't look right.

Now he had been at his Mee-Maw's house all weekend, and she loves to cut his hair every chance she gets...but she hadn't mentioned anything to us about cutting his hair.

So I asked him. "Noah, did you get your hair cut?" The mischievous look that feel across his face let me know the answer to my question. But it also revealed there was a significant amount of the story I was going to have to pry from his cold, dead hands.

"Uh-huh," he said shyly.

"When," I inquired?

"Uh.....today."

I looked at Robin. Robin looked at me. We both looked at Noah. He looked at us...and slowly lowered his head to reveal a two-inch gap with no hair. Robin was horrified. "Noah, did YOU cut your hair," I asked? He nodded his head, but quickly defended his actions. As his mother motioned for him to come close so that she could assess the damage, Noah told how one of his classmates had put glue in his hair.

"So THAT'S why you needed scissors," Robin said...remembering that Noah claimed he wanted scissors to cut out a picture. "Noah," she continued, "you can't do that. Do you realize that if you cut your hair like that there's a chance it won't grow back!"

I glanced across the table and saw my newly-turned 8-year old grinning at me...and I knew what was coming. He turned to his mother and asked, "So...is that what happened to Daddy?"

Wise guy!

So if anyone has a yarmulke they're not using, please contact me. We want to me sure to keep Noah's head from getting sunburned. Also, I have an 8-year old son for sale!

Fifteen Seconds of Fame

2008-11-10T20:06:00.004-06:00

My oldest son, Elijah, turned 8 this past Sunday. For weeks Robin had asked him, "Elijah, what do you want to do for your birthday?" But we got no response. Sunday rolled around, and he still hadn't given us any idea of what we could do for his birthday.

So about mid-afternoon I hinted that he and I should go 'play' later on. So while Robin distracted Noah and Jacob, Elijah and I headed off to his favorite spot - Peter Piper's Pizza.

A Chuck E. Cheese on steroids, no one goes to Peter Piper to eat...you go to play...and play...and play. It really is a wonderful establishment, but a guy can drop $20 on one kid in nothing flat.

Elijah and I went in with a plan. He still had over 500 tickets from his last visit to PPP, but he needed a total of 1,000 to bring home the ultimate prize...a Dallas Mavericks teddy bear (one, by the way, a person could purchase for $10 at Wal-Mart!). But the joy is in the hunt, right? And we were in good company this night...as it seemed EVERY youth baseball and soccer team was having its end-of-the-year gathering at Peter Piper's.

So with tokens in hand we begin our quest. We played everything from Whack-A-Mole's cousin "Whack-A-Shark," "Jumping Jackpot" (an electronic jump rope game), "Skee-ball" (a carnival room favorite) and other assorted money-sucking festivities. When the money budgeted for the evening had been spent we redeemed our tickets. When added to the 500+ tickets Elijah accumulated on his last visit we had 919 tickets.

My tired 8-year old stared into his father's tired eyes. "Guess we'll have to get that bear next time," I said...knowing full well how that statement would go over.

Elijah's bottom lip started to quiver. He stared down at the ticket receipts in his hand. "We only need 81 more," he said softly.

"Wow," I thought, "he's getting good at math!" How could I resist a kid that figured that out so quickly!

"Okay," I said, "I've got two more dollars. But after that we're leaving." He agreed, and we began to devise a plan to come up with 81 tickets using only 8 tokens. Earlier in the evening, as we were playing Skee-ball, I hearkened back to my days at the Fort Worth Stock Show Midway. I was maybe ten years old when an old man showed me that, if you hit the incline of the ramp just right, the ball would almost always shoot into the 10,000 point slot. I tried it a handful of times while Elijah and I were playing and found that I was fairly decent at that technique.

So I said, "Elijah, let's go try Skee-ball. If I can get a perfect score that'll give us 50 tickets with just one token." He agreed and off we waded through the mass of children.

Elijah watched anxiously as I put in a token. The spherical ammunition slid into position as the target loomed ominously in the distance. I selected my first orb, positioned my body to the far left of the ramp, and let my first shot fly. The ball hit exactly where I had hoped, arced through the night, and landed precisely in the 10,000 point slot.

"YES!" Elijah exclaimed, and quickly handed me a second ball. Again I positioned myself as far to the left I could and sent my second shot on its way. Just as before it landed precisely in the 10,000 point slot. Elijah is beside himself, jumping up and down already feeling that teddy bear in his arms.

The third shot, fourth shot and fifth shot all followed suit. Five balls - five perfect shots. As I selected the sixth ball I noticed a handful of kids had gathered around to watch the drama unfolding. Trying to be nonchalant about the whole situation I let number six fly. As I did so, Elijah exclaimed, "My dad is going for a perfect score!" Right on cue, shot number six landed in the 10,000 point slot.

A cheer went up behind me. I turned and saw no less than 20 kids all standing around watching...watching ME! My mouth instantly went dry, my hands began to sweat, and a panic leaped into my heart - the same panic that grips the heart of every married man when his wife heads to the Mall the morning after Thanksgiving.

I reached for ball #7, fully aware that I had become the main attraction. I went through the same motions as I had the six previous times. As my arm rocked back it was as though the entire game room fell silent...and then erupted as the seventh shot found its perfect mark.

Elijah's grin made The Joker's look mild as he anxiously handed me ball #8. As I turned to take it from him I now noticed not only kids standing around...but their parents had joined the fray as well. As before, the multitude grew silent as ball #8 left my hand...and, again, erupted as my perfect score remained.

Now I know both of you reading this are hanging on the edge of your seats...so I'll spare you the drama. Yeah - I made the 9th shot, too. And the crowd cheered. And parents and children wept as they embraced - I had created a rallying point for parent-child relationships.

Okay...I made that last part up.

But I DID get a perfect score. Then out came the tickets...all 50 of them. No sooner had Elijah rolled them up and stuck them in his pocket than that inevitable cry came up...

"Do it again, dude!"

Not wanting to disappoint my adoring fan club I quickly grabbed another token, placed it in the machine, and began my quest for additional perfection.

It would've been wise to remember the old theatre adage: "Always leave your audience wanting more"...as my first shot careened wildly into the 1,000 point slot. And then it was as if someone had thrown up in the middle of the group...as the crowd instantly scattered.

But for a mere moment in time...I WAS...the Skee-ball King of Peter Piper's Pizza. "So I got that going for me.......which is nice."

p.s. Oh yeah...and Elijah DID get his bear (sorry...I forgot that it's not all about me - ha!).

Neighbors and Memories

2008-10-30T21:48:00.003-06:00

We live on a great street! Our next-door neighbors to the north are a sweet, young-married couple with great careers, a beautiful house, a love for God...and a dog that hates my guts. We've spent hours in the front yards talking about work, life, God, friends - you name it. Heck...they even let our kids borrow their Wii while they were outta town!!!

Across the street are a couple about our age. They're expecting their first child at the first of the year. They're active in their church, they have a beautiful yard, and their dog doesn't much care for me, either.

On the opposite end of the street is where my boys spend most of their time. There's kids all over the place. In the summertime, you could always find a soccer, baseball, football, or other miscellaneous game breaking out in the street. Parents sitting around enjoying each other's company watching their kids be kids. It's what's right with America.

And then you have my next door neighbors to the south.

Robin, the boys and I have lived here for almost a year. We have met every family in the neighborhood, and have been in half of their homes...except for our next door neighbors. I THINK I would recognize the man if he walked outside - I've seen him once. I know that he is married, because I've heard the other neighbors talk about the house. To say their house is uninviting would be an understatement. The blinds are always shut, and the curtains are always drawn. A handwritten sign is taped to their door. It reads: "No Solicitors, No Pamphlets, No Peddlers. Only UPS, FEDEX and Postal Workers are welcomed."

And they're not kidding.

I came home from work this week. As usual, pandemonium had set in with balls flying hither and yon, kids wrestling and yelling, and Robin looking relieved that someone else has arrived to share in her joy. "How was your day," I asked Elijah as he looked up from giving his brother an atomic neckbreaker?

Elijah cast a glance at Robin. "Tell him what happened," she said.

Shyly, he told me, "Our neighbor told me to get out of her yard."

Naturally, I figured Elijah had commandeered a 4-wheeler and must have been trenching her yard to get such a cold retort. "What were you doing," I inquired.

"Nothing," he said. "Noah threw the football over my head, and when I went to get it, she stuck her head out of the door and yelled at me."

I was steaming. My first inclination was to go over there and find out what made her such a crotchety, miserable woman. My second thought was take all THREE of my boys into her front yard and have a spontaneous, high-decibel game of Red Rover. But I chilled...and it drew me back to my old neighborhood in Fort Worth.

Overton Avenue was a great street. There weren't many kids, but it was very family friendly. I have many fond memories of retired folks who would let me ride my bike in their driveway, or pick pecans in their front yard, or even help them clean their golf clubs after a long day on the course. All of the grown-ups that lived on our street LOVED children....

Except for the Ashmore's.

I distinctly remember the first time I ever met Mr. Ashmore. My friend Joe and I were throwing the football across the street one day. We looked down the street, and a brown Caprice Classic was making it's way up the hill. Joe took one more throw. The ball bounced once in the street and safely into my yard - a good 100 feet before the car crossed our paths. When the car got even with both of us it stopped abruptly. Both windows rolled down to reveal a married couple in their mid-50's. The lady had unkempt salt-n-pepper hair; the man had wispy brownish-red hair and a pair of Buddy Holly-like glasses.

"You damn kids," he yelled! "You ever try to hit my car again, and it's the last thing you'll ever do!" And off he drove to his garage four houses down. We were stunned. Joe and I, both having lost the will to throw the ball any longer, went to our respective homes.

A week later, a game of touch football was underway in my front yard. An errant pass brought play to a halt as the ball rolled out into the street. Another friend from the next street over went into the street to retrieve the ball. Driving up the street again was that familiar brown Caprice Classic. The next play was about to begin when our game was interrupted by an angry voice coming from the car. "You damn kids! I told you to watch where you throw that damn ball of yours!" And off he drove.

It was at that moment that he no longer was known as Mr. Ashmore. From that day forward, we referred to he and his wife (I hope I can say this) as the Ash-holes. Every time we saw them coming up the street, each of us would run as far away from the street as possible, turn our backs, and wait for them to drive past. That unhappy couple has been etched in my memory for the better part of 30-years.

So a note to our next door neighbors: I don't know who you are, where you're from, or even what your names are. But hopefully you will see the error of your ways and will reach out to my children with a friendly gesture and seek to mend this broken bond.

And if not...well...I hope your name is Ashmore! Because after 30 years, saying Ash-hole STILL makes me giggle!

Open Mouth, Insert BOTH Feet

2008-10-29T05:24:00.003-06:00

Last Sunday I was desperately trying to navigate my three offspring from Bible class into the sanctuary for worship. It's similar to herding cats. Cats that must stop at each water fountain. Cats that talk back to you. Cats that like to try and swing on one of your arms while you're trying to beat the other two cats that are fighting with one another.

One of the ladies at church, who has a son the same age as my oldest, saw my efforts, smiled, and said, "Chris, your children are just so cute."

Now what parent doesn't love hearing compliments about their children. Anytime someone has a kind word to say about how well-behaved my kids are (don't hear that one too often!!!), how handsome they are, etc., it just really makes me feel wonderful. So I was about to tell this lady how much I appreciated her kind words at this frantic moment in my life.

But her next sentence came out before mine did.

"They remind me of the kids from 'Village of the Damned.'"

I guess the look on my face made her think she needed to further explain her comment. "You know, they're all blond-headed, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned. And their adorable, just like those kids in the movie." Yeah...adorable...in a demonic, zombie sort of way.

The continued perplexed look on my face caused her to start panicking. "Or maybe it was 'Children of the Corn'?"

"Uh, no, Malachi had red hair in that movie," I said. "Yep, it was 'Village of the Damned,' then," she said as she walked on down the hall.

Funny...and awkward...all at the same time!

But not HALF as awkward as what I found myself in about six years ago. I had just started a new job at my alma mater in Abilene. It was my second week, and we were having one of those team-building exercises that everyone just LOVES. After it was all over, they wanted a group picture to remember the moment. As they began to line us all up, the person taking the picture asked me to move to the front. This group of folks were all taller than I was...and since they were younger, they all had MUCH more hair than I. So as I moved to the front of the group I made the comment, "Great...move all of us short, chubby, balding folks to the front of the line."

Well...it just so happens that as I was saying this, a lady that we work with was also being asked to move to the front to stand beside me. She was significantly shorter than I am, and her hair had begun thinning for some reason. No sooner were the words out of my mouth that she turned and looked at me with this hurt, horrified look on her face. While I did not look directly at her, I could see her face through my peripheral vision...and all of the folks behind me had borne witness to what had happened, and they were doing their best to hold in their embarrassment for me.

So they took the picture...and I got the heck outta there!!!!!!!!!!!

Noah Strikes Again

2008-10-25T21:52:00.004-06:00

Both of you may remember Noah’s first shocking photo…the one where he appears to be ‘shooting the bird’ at the photographer taking his Rainbow School class’ picture. In case you don’t recall it, I’ve attached it for your benefit.

Well…he’s done it again.

Noah was “Student of the Month” in his class for the month of September. A prestigious honor, I think. One DEFINITELY worthy of having your picture taken.

I would even venture to guess that the picture was taken with a digital camera. A digital camera that allows you to look at the picture to ensure it meets your expectations.

SURELY someone could’ve looked at THIS picture and thought, “Maybe we ought to re-take this and be sure that EVERYONE has their hands to their side or behind their back. I’m sure you’ll figure out where Noah is and what he’s doing.

I’m one proud papa!!!

The Gum Man

2008-09-19T08:34:00.003-06:00

Fletcher "Dit" Wright was an unassuming, humble gentleman. Small in stature, his face was constantly plastered with a smile. He loved the Lord, loved serving in the community, owned his own successful business, and was the quintessential family man.

And he was also the biggest celebrity within the walls of the Altamesa Church of Christ in Fort Worth. While the grown ups called him "Dit," all of us kids simply referred to him as "The Gum Man."

Every Sunday morning when worship was over kids would flock in droves to see the Gum Man with arms outstretched ready to shake his hand. Because each child knew that when they shook hands the correct way, they got a prize. Big Red, Juicy Fruit, Doublemint, Fruit Stripe -- you name it, the Gum Man had it...and he always had plenty. I don't know that he ever calculated how much gum he distributed, but I'm sure the numbers would be staggering. He was always one of the last folks to leave the building because he wanted to be sure every child had a chance to shake his hand. The kids loved. Not just because he gave us gum...but because you could tell he loved us, too.

His love for people spilled over into the 'grown up' world as well. My grandfather and he spent countless hours serving in quiet ways around the church building - fixing the church vans (which, for some reason, were ALWAYS breaking down), working a variety of benevolent opportunities, and doing countless other things to fulfill the mission of Christ. He served as a deacon for as long as I could remember, and you could always rely on him being an integral part of anything going on at the building.

It was later in life that I learned that this quiet little man with the happy countenance was also a decorated war hero. He served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. He was captured by the Japanese during the Battle of the Philippines, was a Prisoner Of War for almost four years, and a survivor of the Bataan Death March. He earned the coveted Bronze Star.

For all that he experienced in that time overseas, it would have been easy to be a cruel, angry, distant human being. But instead...he became The Gum Man.

So I hope at the funeral today someone places a stick of Big Red on his casket from me...

Aristotle, He Isn't...

2008-09-14T18:30:00.002-06:00

…but our middle son, Noah, is becoming renowned around our home for saying things that make you scratch your head.

Take this past week, for example.

It’s a sports-intensive time in the Campbell household. Elijah is playing basketball, baseball and soccer…while Noah is pulling double-duty of playing soccer and baseball. You can tell Noah LOVES baseball, because every spare moment he is striking another major league-emulated batting stance. So I am constantly asked, “Daddy, who’s the guy on the White Sox that bats like this…” and he strikes a Paul Konerko or Ken Griffey, Jr. pose. Now understand…it is IMPERATIVE that I answer him. Otherwise, I will spend the next 45 minutes detailing the batting stance of every player he ISN’T imitating in an effort to conclude our conversation.
Among the drives to practices, games, practices, games, and practices, both Elijah and Jacob managed to acquire a stomach virus of some sort (it’s always great when you walk in the front door and have your children run into your arms and hug you…and then promptly yack chocolate ice cream down your back!).

Elijah got attacked by this little bug most viciously…with both ‘ends’ participating in the festivities. Upon walking in the door on Friday, I asked Noah about his day at school. After he told me about his day in P.E. (I think that’s the only subject Noah is enjoying), he told me that Elijah didn’t go to school.

“Yeah, I heard Elijah had to stay home. What happened,” I asked?

“Oh, he was sick. He had DIABETES,” was his reply.

“Diabetes?!?!?” I tried not to laugh too loudly so as not to hurt my future doctor’s feelings.

“Don’t you mean…” Oh…never mind…

Later that evening we headed out for Noah’s baseball game. As Noah and I were warming up, one of his teammates came over to play catch with us. Noah is still in the mode of getting to know all of his teammates, and he didn’t know Nicholas’ name. When I said, “Hi, Nicholas,” Noah interjected, “Nicholas…that’s a weird name!”

Nicholas’ feelings were hurt…and he stuck his tongue out at Noah. I quickly took Noah aside and told him he can’t say things like that.

“Just because you have never heard that name before doesn’t mean it’s weird,” I explained. In an effort to make peace, Noah went over to Nicholas and said, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean ‘weird.’ I meant that your name is FASCINATING.”

HUH???

Later that same evening, Elijah’s latest baseball game revealed that he has a teammate with an over-the-top dad. A WAY over-the-top-dad. With all due respect to either of you who are vertically challenged, Cory’s dad is a bit on the Zacchaeus side…and I think that translates a bit into his constant berating and scolding of his 7-year old. Well…it made Robin and I both extremely uncomfortable…as it did Elijah.

“Cory’s dad isn’t very nice to him,” Elijah commented on the way home from his game.
“No, he’s not is he,” was Robin’s reply. And so Robin and Elijah began an in-depth discourse on the integrity of the game, the responsibility of the coach-player-parent relationship, the importance of doing one’s best, etc. Not to be left out of the conversation, Noah interrupted with this jewel: “Not everyone has a red tongue!”

Well…you can’t just let that pearl of wisdom go! So Robin asked, “Really? Who doesn’t have a red tongue?”

“Nicholas, my fascinating friend. His tongue is kinda brown.”

After getting the wheels back on, we finished discussing Elijah’s teammate situation…but anxiously anticipated another commentary from Noah.

Consistency

2008-08-28T20:46:00.002-06:00

Warning: This may sound a wee-bit too thought provoking to come from me...but roll with me on it, please?

Both of you may recall that I like think of myself as an avid runner. I'm not a fast runner; I'm not a pretty runner; and I sure don't have the kind of body that makes people stop and say, "Man, I bet that guys likes to run."

But I do - I love nothing more than to start my morning off with a 4-6 mile jaunt around these concrete-laden trails of McKinney, TX.

So I head out about 5:30 every morning, and though sometimes I change my route up a bit, the first two miles always takes me down the same path. As the summer days pass by the darkness remains a little bit more each day. And with a minimal number of street lights on the first phase of my run it's not always easy to see things that might be lurking in the shadows.

About a month ago as I was running along I saw what appeared to be a tennis ball-sized rock sitting on the side walk. I figured the easiest thing to do would be to step over it...only right when I started to do so, "the rock" jumped as well. Now I run with an mp3 player...so I'm not exactly sure how loud I screamed...but I feel confident that it rivaled Janet Leigh's shower scene effort in "Psycho." After I took a dozen or so steps I stopped, turned around, and went back to investigate my close encounter.

"The rock" turned out to be a toad. At a loss for what to do, I figured the proper thing to do would be to greet the toad with a formal toad greeting. So I did so...then apologized for our near fatal collision and went on my way. That was on a Tuesday. The following morning was a rare, rainy Wednesday morning...but, undaunted, I made my way out the door at around 5:30. At the exact spot in my run where I had my toad encounter on Tuesday I spotted another "rock." As I closed in on the "rock," I noticed, again, that it was a toad.

Now...I can't tell one toad from another...but I felt fairly confident this was the same toad I had met the previous day. This time, without stopping, I gave another toad-friendly greeting and continued on my way.

Next morning...same time, same place...same toad!

And every morning, for the past month, I've encountered the same toad at the same spot.

This morning, as I said 'hello' and 'good-bye' to my amphibious friend...I thought about how awesome it is to see that little guy each morning. I know he's going to be there...I know that I need to run on the left-side of the path instead of the right (he's obviously partial to the right side), and that he doesn't move until after I pass. And I thought about how bummed I would be if he weren't there.

And I wonder what sort of consistency I provide. Am I always the same person my co-workers expect to see? Does my wife know what to expect from me? Am I the same husband she married 16 years ago? Am I the same wall of support I pledged to be when were married? Do my kids feel that they can count on Dad to be the same guy regardless of how his day went, regardless of how tired he is, regardless of how much he dislikes his job, and regardless of how he feels?

And does God know he can find me in the same spot whenever he needs me? When he sends challenges my way does he know that he can count on me? When there is someone to be ministered to, does he feel comfortable that I'll be the person he can rely on?

You know...I don't think I would like the answer to these questions!

Guess I could learn a little more from my new toad friend! Hope he's there tomorrow...

Potpourri

2008-08-27T21:13:00.002-06:00

While relaxing on the couch after putting my kids to bed...the following thoughts wandered aimlessly through my mind, spilled out onto the keyboard, and onto this thing called a blog. I'm feeling a little senile...

If you haven't read the book "unChristian," you REALLY need to check that out. Very thought-provoking...and also a good kick to the gut of the average guy who THINKS he knows how a Christian is supposed to act.
I found out four of my best buds from high school are all planning on attending our 20-year reunion in October. I wasn't planning on going...but now I'm having second thoughts (despite the $88 ticket price).
Ted Kennedy...c'mon...really?!?!?!!
I think Academy is my most favorite retail place of all times.
Is it just me...or is "A Fistful of Dollars" on AMC practically every week!
Tom Petty played at the American Airlines Center tonite. I wasn't there...and that's just not fair.
I don't care how many houses John McCain owns...unless, of course, he's planning on giving one of them to me.
Some lady at work always refers to me as "The Happy Guy." What a great compliment...now I need to remember to share with her why I'm so happy (trust me - it ain't because of the job!!!).
Rico, Noah's classmate, fell asleep in Art class today. How do you fall asleep in Art?!?!?!?!
I wish I got to go to Art class!
Isn't it time for a little high school football!??!?!

There...that's enough. Both of you can go back to your lives, now.

Another First Day of School

2008-08-25T20:35:00.003-06:00

I was reminded of the words of that great theologian and philosopher, Meat Loaf, as we trudged off to today's first day of school..."Two outta three ain't bad." Those words echoed through my head as Elijah began his first day of second grade, and Noah started his elementary school career as a Kindergartener. My how time flies!

And my, what an event the first day of school has become!!!

I haven't verified any of this with my mother...but I don't ever recall a "Meet The Teacher" day the week before school. As I recall, you showed up to school, looked at a list posed on the School Office window, and lamented how the fates had treated you as you trudged off to meet this mystery woman. And I don't recall parents banding together to walk their kids to school on the first day. As a matter of fact, I don't remember my parents even walking into school with me except on the first day of Kindergarten!

But this morning, it was a scene from the book of Exodus as every house on our street emptied to shuttle unsuspecting youths to another year of scholastic achievement. Youths dressed in their newest clothes with carefully manicured hair.

Everyone...except the Campbell children.

The night before Robin carefully made a wardrobe selection ideal for the first day of school. For Elijah she chose Khaki shorts and a nice red shirt; for Noah, denim shorts and his Joakim Noah Chicago Bulls jersey. As a weary Elijah wandered downstairs, he saw his attire laid out on the couch and instantly exclaimed, "Aw mom, I don't want to wear NICE clothes to school."

And so it began. A battle of wills - the likes of which had not been seen since Jefferson Davis and Abraham Lincoln in the mid-1860's. In the end, Elijah emerged victorious...though slightly scarred. Though the khaki shorts were still in place, the "NICE" red t-shirt had been replaced by his Chicago Bears Rex Grossman jersey.

So off we went...kinda.

There was one more child who felt neglected about not getting to participate in the day's festivities. So while Elijah and Noah ran off after their friends on their scooters...and Robin, camera in tow, quickly followed behind, I tried to coax my almost-3-year old to come along for the pomp and circumstance. In the end, a piggy-back ride was the only thing that enabled this family experience to continue. A piggy-back ride, might I add, in 85 degree heat/humidity.

Elijah cared very little about mom and dad hanging around to see him off to his first day in class. He quickly went inside his room, settled in at his desk, and instantly went to the task laid before him by his veteran teacher. Meanwhile, I was refereeing the wrestling match between Noah and Jacob while trying to help one of Elijah's classmates find his locker.

Then we were off to Noah's class...and he was pumped. We arrived to find the teacher trying desperately to console a young lady who was not the least bit thrilled about this new experience. We also met Noah's new girlfriend and tablemate Mabrey. Mabrey's parents definitely outdid the Campbell's, leaving her with a picture of the entire family on one side of an index card...and a picture of her kitty cat on the other side. She proudly showed her new friend her card...though I'm not sure if she was showing him because she was proud of it, or if she was taunting Noah by showing him how unprepared HIS parents were.

As we were filing out, I met Rico. Yes...there is a kid in Noah's class named Rico. And yes, he threw me up against a locker and made me give him my milk money (I'm kidding...but Rico might be in that line of work by the time the school year is over!). He LOOKS like a Rico...and he TALKS like a Rico. I told Noah, "Make friends with Rico - you will go far."

So we patted Noah on the head and told him how proud we were of him and headed out the door.

And yes...as the rock of our family...I cried a little.

A Movie With A Message

2008-08-16T20:51:00.004-06:00

Both of you know that if a movie, song or TV show was made after 1989...then there's a 99.45% chance that I'm not the least bit interested in it.

But there is the occasional exception.

I enjoyed the first "Narnia" movie...but never made it to the theatre to watch the second episode, "Prince Caspian." But I happened to be scanning the movie listings a couple of weeks ago and saw that "Prince Caspian" was on at the dollar theatre (technically, it's $1.25...but saying the 'dollar-twenty-five-cent theatre' sounds a bit silly). So I loaded Noah and Elijah up in the car (two hours, twenty minutes is WAY too long for Jacob to sit still!) and went to the show.

And all I can say is WOW!

The movie is a classic good versus evil struggle with the beautiful Spiritual overtones that C.S. Lewis intended. There are great, epic battle scenes, intense confrontations with former friends, and Godly messages that make one stop and think. And that's what I liked best about the movie - the Christ-centered message. Specifically, one moment in the movie gave me something to ponder.

Early in the movie, as Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are trying to find away to cross a deep ravine. Lucy is convinced that she sees Aslan on the other side of the ravine...but the rest of her family doesn't believe her.

It's not 'til the end of the movie when Aslan finally makes his appearance in a meeting with Lucy. Lucy tells Aslan about her experience at the ravine.

"I saw you there. But when I told the others I saw you they didn't believe me."
Aslan replies, "So why would that stop you from coming to me."
Lucy's response echoes the same response I have had to God several times in the past. "Uh...I don't know."

How many times have I been convinced that I've witnessed the power of the Almighty, but let someone talk me into chalking it up to 'fate?' How often do I feel God's presence in an opportunity to witness to someone...but I let the opportunity go by because I let logic and reasoning factor into my thinking? How often am I convinced that I see God, but I let others talk me out of it?

Mercifully, Aslan's words to Lucy weren't words of disappointment. Instead, they were the words an ultra-patient father uses while putting his arms around his daughter. The words of a patient teacher, a counselor, a loving, caring dad.

But I'm thankful that God is that patient...but my human mind still finds it impossible to imagine that he could be that patient with me.

If a picture is worth a thousand words...

2008-08-07T23:27:00.001-06:00

...then this video may not be worth any! Elijah, age 3, and Daddy's first (and last) attempt at directing a music video. ENJOY!

A Day In The Graveyard

2008-08-06T22:17:00.004-06:00

It was the first thing in August, and around our house that means one thing and one thing only.

It's time for the annual Stonebarger family reunion.

The community was called Pleasant Hill. It's a hop, skip, and jump to the east of Durant, OK. Today it's nothing more than pastureland, a couple of houses, an old 50' x 50' metal building, and a rolling cemetery. It's not the ideal conditions for a meal...but it's the perfect place to enjoy fried chicken while visiting with family and passing around family pictures. Because more than half a century ago it was the place my father-in-law, Jesse Stonebarger, called home.

Jesse is one of 17 children - 12 sisters and 5 brothers born to Luther and Suba Stonebarger (no one is quite sure what Suba's 'real' name was - they just always knew her as 'Suba'). They were poor...REAL poor. The house they grew up in had three rooms. They got different (not necessarily NEW) clothes once a year (if they were lucky). They worked hard from the time they could walk to help provide for the family.

Things being the way they were, the Stonebarger's relied on one another. They made up their own games, developed their own language (for instance, a 'jack artman' is a flashlight), and became their own little community. They developed a love and joy of being with each other - a feeling that is evident to this very day.

So a little 105 degree heat on the first Sunday of August does little to keep the Stonebarger's from gathering in the cemetery to celebrate being a family. I enjoy it as well. It may sound odd, but I love cemeteries...because they're full of a million stories. And as you walk amongst the monuments of the Stonebarger family and the other families that once made up this community, one can almost hear the Spirits sitting in a circle of folding chairs recounting the stories of a generation gone by.

*Luther's tombstone sports the same date of birth as our oldest son, Elijah. Luther stories are legendary...including the time that he got mad at one of the family's roosters, took a swing at it with his shotgun, and wound up shooting off two of his own fingers.

*Elijah also has the same birthday as L.T., the oldest Stonebarger brother. He died five years ago sitting in his chair while watching television. L.T. LOVED family events - he was always the first to arrive for Thanksgiving...and was usually the last to leave.

*Next to Luther and Suba is an old, worn headstone - worn to the point that no name or date is visible. In 1943, Luther, Suba and the children were in the fields picking cotton for one of the landowners they worked for. They brought their two-year old twins, Barbara and Irene with them, but set them in the wagon to keep them out of the way. Irene got down out of the wagon and was playing underneath when Luther led the horse forward. She was killed almost instantly.

*Dave was 12 years younger than Jesse - he died two years ago. I baptized him weeks before he succumbed to cancer. I did his eulogy in that same metal building before we buried beside his mom and dad as well.

*"Dude" is on the opposite end of the cemetery. Just like Suba, I'm not real sure of what her real name is...but everyone called her "Dude" for as long as they can remember. She was the firstborn and the one that the other brothers and sisters looked to for inspiration. She died of a heart attack while Robin was in college.

And the stories go on and on. There are numerous headstones with inscriptions such as "Our infant son"; "Born May 15 - Died May 16." One poor family had four tiny monuments with those same inscriptions. How painful it would be to endure the loss of your child.

So it doesn't matter how hot it is the first Sunday of August in 2009. We'll be in the cemetery in Pleasant Hill. We'll eat the same food, reunite with the same family members, and pass around the same pictures. Then I'll wander among the monuments to see what new stories I can find.

Rock'n'Roll...YOU'RE LETTING ME DOWN!!!

2008-07-29T20:47:00.003-06:00

Robin and I have AT&T U-Verse here at the house...and it's awesome! Why? Because at any given time during the day or night you can find a show on practically any topic. The down-side of AT&T U-Verse...is that your children can ALSO wander across those same shows that you wish they didn't see.

Which is what happened last night.

Around 9:45p.m., Robin was in the bathtub while I was in the living room trying to get my two younger children ready for bed. Elijah, a.k.a, The Grand Inquisitor, was sitting on the bed in our room watching a channel that my wife had abandoned in favor of a warm bath.

After I sent the younger two up to bed, I went to check on Elijah and found him watching said show. It was a "Behind The Music" wannabe featuring Aerosmith. Granted, I'm not a huge Aerosmith fan, but they do have a handful of catchy tunes that I enjoy (see "Toys In The Attic"). I'm enjoying the tales of Steven Tyler, Joe Perry, and the gang's wild destructions of backstage dressing rooms and hotel rooms...when the show moves promptly into the band's well-documented drug addictions. I quickly dive for the remote control hoping Elijah didn't catch the quick transition.

"Why did you change the channel, Daddy," he asked pointedly.
"Uh...they're not very nice people, so we don't need to watch their show," I replied...a little disappointed with my lame response.
"But you like rock'n'roll, Daddy, right?"
"Yes, quite a bit."

Then the stinger. "Do any of the bands you like have nice guys? What about KISS," he asked, knowing full-well his Daddy has been to three of his favorite band's concerts?

Hmm. My mind raced through the titles of their songs: "Christine Sixteen" (a song about an infatuation with an under aged beauty); "Plaster Caster" (a tribute to a group of lady that made plaster molds of a specific body part; "Let's Put The 'X' in Sex" (geez, enough said!); and the list goes on.

"Um...no, KISS doesn't have very nice guys."

"What about yout other favorites? Are they nice?"

I ran through my CD/MP3 catalog:
AC/DC? - Uh, no.
Judas Priest? - No way - the name says it all!
Motley Crue? - The upside down pentagram is not a good thing
The Cult? - I can hear it now: "Daddy, what a cult?"
The Ramones? - Maybe...but way too many drugs

And then it hit me....THANK GOD FOR BONO!!!!

So I started to preach the gospel of U2 to Elijah. I told him about "40," a song whose lyrics are taken from the first 3 verses of Psalm 40. I told him about "Where The Streets Have No Name," a song that has become an anthem about life in Heaven for those who believe. I then began to tell him how important it was for him to surround himself with good thoughts and good influences and good friends...and that included the music that he listened to.

And that's when I began to feel like the biggest hypocrite walking the face of the Earth.

So this morning, on my way to work, I listened to 89.7 Power FM. I found a couple of songs that were catchy...so I'll check out more from those folks. But if either of you have any suggestions on contemporary Christian music with a nice punk or 80's metal twist (and no, I don't mean Stryper, Petra, or Whiteheart) I'd love to hear about it!

Random Top Ten

2008-07-26T09:23:00.002-06:00

Ten things I love about my kids:

10. They think I run really fast…even though I’m quite slow…even by Caucasian standards!
9. They still WANT to hang out with me (I know that won’t last forever!).
8. I love having an excuse to watch cartoons!
7. Jesus is very real and simple to them – I tend to make Him very complicated.
6. The words “I love you” sound so precious when they say them.
5. It’s nice to look at them and remember how I looked when I had a full head of hair!
4. They think it’s cool that you have to physically roll the windows down in my car.
3. Watching them make friends with all kinds of kids reminds me of how silly our adult bitterness and prejudices are.
2. Laughing out loud for a long time makes one really tired!
1. They give Robin and I something different than money to fight about (ha!).

The Best Workout I've Ever Had!

2008-07-19T12:36:00.001-06:00

I'm not a huge baseball fan...but there's something 'right' about baseball. I don't want to get too sappy and sentimentel, a la Field of Dreams, but baseball is part of Americana - just like Norman Rockwell paintings and R.E.M. (okay, maybe R.E.M. isn't part of Americana...but they're part of Chriscana!).

So I got tickets to the Frisco Roughriders game through work the other day. The older two boys had been to a game, but Jacob had yet to attend a professional baseball game. So we loaded the entire family up in the minivan and made our way to Dr. Pepper Ballpark in Frisco for a little Double-A minor league baseball.

When we got to the park we found that our seats were two rows behind the home team dugout...so Jacob's first ballgame was going to provide close-up look at America's favorite pastime (this is awesome...except for the fact that you are 30 rows away from the concourse!). Hank Blalock, Rangers firstbaseman, is recovering from an injury and is playing for the Roughriders as part of his rehabilitation assignment, so he was in the starting lineup. What a bonus! And the starting pitcher was a hot Ranger prospect as well. So we were destined for a truly marvelous experience.

I'd love to give you details on how the game went. Regrettably, all I can tell you is that the Roughriders won 2-0, and that all of my children get embarrassed when their father stands up to do the "Chicken Dance."

Here's a breakdown of my evening:
Top of the 1st - Spent majority of this inning explaining to Elijah and Noah why we stand up and remove our hats during the National Anthem
Bottom of the 1st - Took Elijah to get more food at the buffet (our tickets included all you can eat ballpark fare - SWEET!)
Top of the 2nd - Navigated my children from the seats they had occupied that actually belong to a very TALL family.
Bottom of the 2nd - Missed it because Elijah and Jacob were BOTH in my lap since they couldn't see over the family in front of us.
Top of the 3rd - Bathroom break
Bottom of the 3rd - Buffet line for more hotdogs (because Jacob dropped his).
Top of the 4th - Yes, Jacob dropped ANOTHER hot dog!
Bottom of the 4th - Spent most of this inning explaining to Noah that I would get him some ice cream after the 6th inning. In the meantime, Robin took Elijah and Jacob to get free baseball cards courtesy of some local dentist.
Top of the 5th - Spent most of this inning explaining to Noah that it was not yet the 6th inning. Robin returns with toothbrushes - evidently you had to schedule an appointment with the dentist before he would give you baseball cards!
Bottom of the 5th - See "Top of the 5th"
Top of the 6th - Comforted a crying Noah while explaining that we would get ice cream AFTER the 6th inning - not DURING.
Bottom of the 6th - Lost my battle with Noah; went to get Dippin' Dots (the so-called ice cream of the future) with Elijah and Noah.
Top of the 7th - Took Jacob to get Dippin' Dots
Bottom of the 7th - Begged my children to sit down beside us while promising to never embarrass them again by doing the Chicken Dance during the 7th inning stretch.
Top of the 8th - Temporarily lost my sight after trying a spoonful of Rainbow-flavored Dippin Dots. I thus determined that if you're a bad person...when you die, you go to Hell...AND you are fed Dippin' Dots 24-7.
Bottom of the 8th - Spent most of that inning wearing my glove on my head to entertain my restless, fidgety 2-year old.
Top of the 9th - Actually got to watch this inning.

Roughriders win 2-0!

Now...I've run two marathons...but I was more tired leaving that ballgame than I was after making a 26-mile trek around the city of Dallas!!!!!!!! And the picture is a clear indication of which way Jacob was looking most of the night...

Parenthood

2008-07-17T14:15:00.003-06:00

God embodies the very principle of it.

Jesus alluded to it often.

Men have philosophized about it.

More books exist on the topic than any other known to man.

What countless millions of words have endeavored to explore and explain, one picture captures ever-so-simply...(censored for your benefit)

The Greatness of Rick Reilly

2008-07-04T10:35:00.000-06:00

This was in the latest edition of ESPN The Magazine...and it's absolute greatness!!!
----------------
Congrats, newly minted NBA rookie!

Now you've been drafted. Next comes the delicious multimillion-dollar contract. And that's when you must do what most NBA players do: start going through cash like Jack Black through the Keebler factory.

Filing for bankruptcy is a long-standing tradition for NBA players, 60% of whom, according to the Toronto Star, are broke five years after they retire. The other 40% deliver the Toronto Star.

It's not just NBA players who have the fiscal sense of the Taco Bell Chihuahua. All kinds of athletes wind up with nothing but lint in their pockets. And if everyone from Johnny Unitas to Sheryl Swoopes to Lawrence Taylor can do it, so can you! With my How to Go Bankrupt* DVD series, it's a layup to go belly-up!

Ten essentials, just to get you started:

1. Screw up, deny it, then fight by using every lawyer and dime you have. Roger Clemens just sold his Bentley, reportedly to pay legal bills. Marion Jones lawyered herself broke before she finally copped and went to prison. Paging Mr. Bonds, Mr. Barry Bonds.

2. Buy a house the size of Delaware. Evander Holyfield was in danger of losing his 54,000-square-foot pad outside Atlanta, and it's a shame. He had almost visited all 109 rooms!
FROM $300M UP TO $27M DOWN? EASY.

3. Buy many, many cars. Baseball slugger Jack Clark had 18 cars and owed money on 17 when he went broke. And don't get just boring Porsches and Mercedes. Go for Maybachs. They sell for as much as $375,000—even though they look like Chrysler 300s—and nobody will ever know how to pronounce them, much less fix them.

4. Buy a jet. They burn money like the Pentagon. Do you realize it costs $50,000 just to fix the windshield on one? Scottie Pippen borrowed $4.375 million to buy some wings and spent God knows how much more for insurance, pilots and fuel. Finally, his wallet cried uncle. The courts say he still owes $5 million, including interest. See you in coach, Scottie! (For that matter, why not a yacht? Latrell Sprewell kept his 70-foot Italian-made yacht tied up in storage until the bank repossessed it, in August 2007. He probably sat at home and cried about that—until the bank foreclosed on his house, this past May.)

5. Spend stupid money on other really stupid stuff. In going from $300 million up to $27 million down, Mike Tyson once spent $9,180 in two months to care for his white tiger. That's why Iron Mike's picture is on our logo!

6. Hire an agent who sniffs a lot and/or is constantly checking the scores on his BlackBerry. Those are the kinds of guys who will suck up your dough like a street-sweeper. Ex-Knick Mark Jackson once had a business manager he thought he could trust. Turned out the guy was forging Jackson's signature on checks—an estimated $2.6 million worth—to feed a gambling jones. "And it wasn't like I was a rookie—I was a veteran," Jackson says. The only reason he says he's getting some money back is because he didn't …

7. Sign over power of attorney. What's it mean? Who cares? Just sign! The guy you're signing it over to knows. And while you play Xbox, he'll be buying large portions of Switzerland for himself. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar let an agent named Tom Collins have power of attorney once, and it cost Kareem $9 million before he figured it out.

8. Spend like the checks will never stop. Also known as the Darren McCarty method. Despite earning $2.1 million a year, Red Wing McCarty, who started a rock band called Grinder, went splat by investing in everything but fur socks ($490,000 in unlikely-to-be-repaid loans) and gambling large ($185,000 in casino markers). In other words, a Tuesday for John Daly.

9. Just ball. Don't write your own checks. Don't drive your own car. Don't raise your own kids. Just be a tall slab of skilled meat for others to feast on. Not to worry. It'll be over before you know it.

10. Most of all, set up a huge support system around you. It'll be years before you'll realize they call it a support system because you're the only one supporting it!!! They're all on full-ride scholarships at the University of You. "Guys go broke because they surround themselves with people who help them go broke," says ex-NBA center Danny Schayes, who now runs No Limits Investing in Phoenix. "I know all-time NBA, top-50 guys who sold their trophies to recover."

See, kid? You can be a top-50 guy!

So order my How to Go Bankrupt* series now, and get this empty refrigerator box to sleep in, absolutely free!

*(Only $1,449 plus shipping, handling, service fee, dealer prep and undercoating. Per month.)

Funerals Aren't Funny....but....

2008-07-02T16:22:00.002-06:00

We buried Robin’s uncle on Tuesday of this week. He was only 66 years old and finally succumbed to a LENGTHY battle with Emphysema (if you ever want to convince yourself, your kids, or someone you love of the damage that smoking can do to your body, go spend a day in ICU watching a man battle for every breath. It was agonizing to behold…so for his sake, I’m glad he has moved “Home”!).

And while funerals aren’t supposed to be funny occasions, there is inevitably something that happens at every funeral that makes me giggle. Maybe that’s just my irreverent side…or it may just my search for something that will keep me from crying (cuz I am a HUGE crier!). But this one had a couple of moments that made me smile and wince all at the same time.

The Pentecostal congregation in Marietta, OK, was very gracious to serve lunch prior to the Service. We were one of the last of the family to arrive...and by the time we got there the line for lunch had already formed. And man, what a spread! I sat with my kids while everyone else went through the line…so I was one of the last folks to go through. There was an enormous amount of food left over – enough to feed the folks who were there twice more…at least! I commented to the lady who seemed to be in charge, “Wow, y’all sure know how to get a lot of food together!” She said, “Well, we were told Abe had 16 brothers and sisters, so we should expect quite a crowd.” I replied, “Yeah, he HAD 16 brothers and sisters…but I guess no one told y’all half of them are dead!” I don’t think she was amused…

As people passed by the opened casket, Elijah (my oldest) said confidently, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. That’s just his body – his Spirit has gone to Heaven.” So I quickly grabbed his hand and started walking toward the casket. He INSTANTLY became a blubbering, hysterical mass…pleading, “No daddy, no – don’t make me look at him!

At the end of the graveside service, the plan was to release balloons to symbolize Abe’s ascension into Heaven. Unfortunately…the helium in the balloons had leaked out. So instead of ascending…the balloons went skipping along the ground. Hope that isn’t a bad omen about Abe’s spirit!!!

It’s never a good idea for women to wear tall heels to the graveside…especially after a rain…and REALLY especially (if that’s grammatically correct) when they’re a bit on the heavy side. It can make navigating the moist red clay of a Southern Oklahoma cemetery a bit harrowing. But it makes for great people watching!

I promise – no more irreverent posts….today!

Scattershooting At 35,000 Feet

2008-06-26T07:01:00.000-06:00

Random thoughts from a random dude...

George Carlin died this week. I know lots of folks found him funny...but, for some reason, I didn't (with the exception of his diatribe on the differences between football and baseball - that WAS funny!). Maybe his humor was just too intelligent for me. Plus, I can't stand the blatant, derogatory assault on Christians or Christianity. Wonder if he'd like a do-over on some of that...?
As I type this some poor guy next to me on the plane is being hit on MERCILESSLY by some lady in her mid-50's. He MIGHT be my age. Thank you, God, for my mp3 player!!!
Either of you have any good ideas on how to purge a materialistic mindset from a 7-year old? I've got an idea - I'll expound on it another time. But I'd love to hear yours!
"Pac Man" Jones wants to be called his given first name - "Adam." Guess that's his way of starting fresh. Hope that works out for him...but I hope he surrounds himself with some good people, too.
Top Three Blizzards of all time: (1)Peanut Butter Cup (2)Oreo (3)Chocolate Xtreme
Why pay money to go to a Psychiatrist or other professional counselor? The waitress at Waffle House is significantly less expensive AND will bring you enough coffee to fill the Grand Canyon in the process!
I've got the itch to run another marathon...or at least run a half-marathon. Either of you wanna run with me?
My 20-year high school reunion is in October. I'd like to go...but it's $88....PER PERSON!!! Guess I'd better start saving up for my 50-year reunion!

Have a blessed day!

A Parent's Pride

2008-06-23T05:56:00.003-06:00

Coming home from Indiana last week I managed to get on an earlier flight. Unfortunately, that meant I was in a middle seat. Worse than that, it was a seat in between two ladies that outweighed me. Worse than THAT...these two ladies knew each other. Worse than THAT...it was obvious that these two ladies hadn't seen each other in ten years and had A LOT of catching up to do. And what better way to do it than by talking over the dude with the bald spot!

Since it was obvious I wouldn't have room for my laptop I put on my headphones, grabbed my Bible and just opened it. I opened to the first chapter of Luke...so I figured that was where I was supposed to start.

It has been a long since I read anything from the Gospels. I usually spend time in Paul's letters or in one of the Prophet books of the Old Testament...so it was fun to go back to the beginning days of Jesus. And I had forgotten what a truly traumatic yet exciting start Jesus' life had.

It's not uncommon today, sadly, to see unwed expectant mothers. I don't know how common it was 2,000 years ago...but since there was a pretty stiff penalty under Jewish law for such 'activity,' I bet it was pretty low. So for a young lady to be approached by an angel to say, "Guess what - you're pregnant...and the father is the Holy Spirit"...and then to try and convince your family of that...

Well...let's just say I bet there are some mom's and dad's that would have a hard time buying that story.

And then there's Joseph. Imagine Mary dropping that story on him! And he believed it! Of course he also got a visit from an angel as well, but I still can't help but wondering how confident he was in her story.

Of course everyone is familiar with the story of Christmas...so I kinda breezed through that.

Then I came to Luke 2...when Joseph and Mary take Jesus to the Temple. The Holy place - the most important icon in their Jewish faith. The place where God lived. And they encounter two people there that, honestly, brought tears to my eyes as I re-read the account.

I LOVE hearing people praise my boys - whether it be for their soccer skills, their basketball skills, how polite they are, how handsome they are, etc. It brings me great joy to hear other people compliment my children. It's a blessing to them, and a blessing to Robin and I.

So I can scarcely imagine how Joseph and Mary must have felt when a man named Simeon takes the baby Jesus from his mother, holds him in his arms, lifts his eyes to Heaven and says, "God, I've seen what I need to see. I can die now." And then looks at Mary and says, "This is the most important baby ever to be born in Israel."

They then encounter an old lady named Anna. She also grabs the baby from their arms and begins to yell at the top of her lungs to all who would listen, proclaiming the name of the Lord and praising Him for allowing her to see the day when the Savior came on the scene. It doesn't even compare to the first day you take your newborn to church or to a big family function - where everyone is standing around admiring your baby - ooh-ing and ah-ing over this new little blessing in your life.

And I guess my favorite verse of the whole chapter is 2:51. It's right after Joseph and Mary have found an adolescent Jesus after looking for him for THREE DAYS!!! (I would've been tempted to whoop the little man's rear!). Luke says, "His mother treasured all these things in her heart." After all...it was her baby.

So I will try to do what Mary did - treasure these days in my heart. Amidst all the ER visits, the trips to Time Out, the fighting and bickering...I will treasure these days. Because my little boys won't be little boys forever.

Jesse Lopez

2008-06-18T21:45:00.000-06:00

When I was working for ACU I drove to D/FW airport from Abilene on a Sunday morning (you absolutely CAN NOT trust the Abilene airport!). I was flipping through channels on the radio seeking some sort of spiritual encouragement (my Church of Christ upbringing leave me feeling EXTREMELY guilty if I don’t make it to worship on Sunday morning).

I was near the US-281 exit, close to Stephenville, and I picked up a station from Stephenville that was broadcasting the worship service of a local congregation. The pastor was introducing a gentleman named Jesse Lopez. Jesse had just been released from his third stint in prison for a variety of drug-related offenses. While in prison, a member of this congregation (sorry – I don’t remember the name) would visit Jesse and study the Bible with him. Jesse was baptized and began his own ministry within the prison. He was so grateful to this man from the church that he promised upon his release he would come share his story with the congregation.

When Jesse got up to speak it was quite obvious that he was not a frequent public speaker…nor was he extremely educated. But I’m always intrigued by the stories of men who have come to grips with the fact that they were lost…but have now been found (I’m jealous of people like that…but that’s another subject for another day).

As Jesse stumbled through his introduction he shared that he had come to know Christ quite a few years earlier. A gentleman from a different church had visited him in prison, studied the Bible with him, and encouraged him to “get saved.” And so he did. He prayed the sinner’s prayer and instantly felt like he was a new man. After all – he was saved!

But inside, he said, he was still the same man who had merely uttered a few rehearsed words.

When he got out of prison, he went back to his old habits – drugs, stealing, drinking, etc. And it landed him back in prison. It was after this second gentleman came to visit him that Jesse said he figured out what the problem was…and I loved the way he put it:

“There’s a huge, life-altering difference between being SAVED and being SET FREE.” He then went into a 30-minute, tear-laden narration of his life that really spoke to me.

I’ve always – ALWAYS – been a Christian. I’ve been inside a church building on a regular basis since the day I was born. I’ve always felt relative sure of my salvation…but I’ve always felt like those nagging little sins and habits pursue me everywhere I go.

It’s like Jesse Lopez said: “There’s a huge, life-altering difference between being SAVED and being SET FREE.” When your set free, the little things that used to bother you are replaced by the little things that bring glory to God and his Kingdom.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is in the book of Jeremiah (chapter 37, I think) about a guy named Ebed-Melech who rescues Jeremiah from an old, dried-up cistern. Ebed-Melech grabs some ropes and gathers up some friends to help rescue Jeremiah. But he did one other “little thing” – he went to a room somewhere in the palace and grabbed some old rags for Jeremiah to put under his arms so he wouldn’t get rope burn.

I don’t know why – but I’ve always thought that was a really, really cool story. I also think it’s so convicting of the way many of us try to live as residents of the Kingdom of God. We take care of the big things quickly….but the “little things” (removing temptation from our lives, giving to those in need, practicing hospitality, praying with others, disciplining our children) receive lesser priority.

I need to pay attention to "little things."

A Memorable Father's Day

2008-06-15T21:08:00.002-06:00

Father's Day. Yet another Hallmark-inspired holiday brought to you by the fine folks in Corporate America (man, am I turning into a cranky old person or what?!?!?!).

There - I promise that's all the sourness you'll get from me. I kinda enjoy Father's Day - not because of the gift-giving aspect of it. But more for the "church" experience that comes with every Father's Day. My FAVORITE part is what the kiddos bring you from their class...whether it be a big paper necktie...or a "#1 DAD" medal made out of a paper plate...or an interesting artist's rendition of you by your five-year old - one in which you have hands the size of Dr. J, pencil-thin legs, and wild hair (well...in my case, take out the hands and it's pretty close!). I also used to get a big kick out of a portion of the Father's Day worship service at a congregation Robin and I once attended...where the preacher would have all the dad's in the congregation stand while the rest of the congregation would sing "Rise Up, O Men of God." I would sit there doing the "church giggle" thanking the Lord that I did not, yet, have children.

This year, Father's Day was at its highest point at church. Elijah, my 7-1/2 year old, drew pictures of things that he thought made his dad special (for instance, he drew a picture of Dad's Favorite Food -- "salad." His teacher got a HUGE kick out of that). He also drew a picture of when he was happiest - when he's playing catch with his dad. I will admit that I teared up a bit.

But that's where all the good ended!

Robin and I lost a dear friend over the weekend...but since I have to fly to Indianapolis Monday morning, I was unable to go to the funeral. So Father's Day morning saw me and my three convicts...uh, I mean, three sons...set out for church alone. I eventually got everyone to class then ran off to mine. After class I managed to rustle my oldest two into the Auditorium. I had just finished reading the aforementioned note from Elijah when the pager in my pocket went off. This is the pager that they give you when you have a two-year old that is capable of violence in the nursery.

So I left the older two under the care of some unwary parishoner and dashed off to see what Jacob had done. I had not yet reached the door of the nursery when my olfactory senses kicked in. After I picked myself up off the floor, I peeked around the door to see if there was a problem. The nursery volunteer, a young lady not more than 13 with a bewildered, panicked look on her face, informed me that was not a dead body I smelled. It belonged to my son...and she wasn't changing it!

So I donned a Haz-Mat uniform, wished myself a Happy Father's Day, and did my duty (no pun intended).

After making a trip to the dumpster I made it back to the auditorium for worship. My two oldest were fidgety as usual. When the time for "Children's Church" rolled around, Noah informed me he would not be going. So I bid farewell to Elijah and hovered between consciousness while shifting my attention between a sermon about the recently departed Tim Russert and Noah's drawings of basketball courts. Quite nice, really.

So...it's Father's Day. And where do we go to lunch on Father's Day? If your answer was, "Wherever Daddy wants to go," then you OBVIOUSLY are either not a father yet, OR the man of the house in your family runs a Dictatorship. No...in the Campbell house...if it's Sunday lunch that means one thing, and one thing only....

Cici's!

Who in their right mind would trade the insanity and mayhem of a pizza buffet with arcade games for a quiet Sunday brunch?!?!?!

So after making a trip through the line to fill three plates...THEN making a trip to the drink machine to fill three drinks...THEN making a trip to the salad bar to fill three plates with some semblance of a vegetable...THEN making a trip BACK to the drink machin to refill Jacob's spilt Sprite, I get to make a trip through the line. Man...Canadian Bacon never tasted so good!

I've barely begun my meal when my oldest begins to stir the pot. Elijah, knowing full-well we would be going to Cici's, managed to smuggle a dollar from his bank. When he was done eating, he produced the money from his pocket and proudly walked to the game room. The other two, mouths agape and eyes wide with wonder, both turned to me and yelled in unison, "Where's my dollar??!?!?!" Hoping to AVOID a scene I produced two one-dollar bills from my wallet and sent them on their merry way.

In a matter of five minutes, World War III broke out.

While Jacob is trying to feed quarters into a game that makes the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" look like an episode of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, Elijah and Noah are duking it out over who gets to play Ms. Pac Man first. So as I begin the refereeing portion of my job I happen to glance over my shoulder to see a young couple with a baby no more than two months old shooting me the look that says, "And they let YOU be a parent."

After what seemed like hours I shuttled my kids out of the gameroom, VERY close to the young family's table, and out the door....fighting the whole way, I might add. When we get in the car I announce that all of them have earned a spot in Time Out when we get home. This announcement is met with a chorus of, "It wasn't my fault's" and "You're not fair's," and "We want Mommy to come home's."

We pull into the driveway, and I order everyone upstairs. As I sit down on the couch, I barely manage to get one shoe off when I hear a thud upstairs. Now thuds in the Campbell house are not uncommon. Then I hear crying. Again, crying...DEFINITELY not an uncommon sound in the Campbell house. But then I hear the type of crying that is more than "Ouch." It's the type of crying that says, "Wow, blood is supposed to be INSIDE your body, not outside." And my fears are confirmed when Noah announces, "Daddy, Jacob is bleeding!"

I dash up the stairs to find that Noah has issued quite an understatement. Jacob IS bleeding from the hand...and doing so quite nicely. I ask, "What happened?" Noah gives me the shrug of innocence. But not time to worry about that. I quickly call a neighbor and ask if they can watch the older two while I make yet another trip to the ER.

By the time everyone is in the car EVERYBODY is in tears. Elijah and Noah are upset because they don't want their brother to have to get stitches. And Jacob...well, he's upset because he doesn't want to get stitches either. And Daddy is crying because Daddy was sooo looking forward to watching the US Open's final round.

So off I go to Medical Center of McKinney singing "Happy Father's Day" to myself as I go. I'll spare you the gory details of my visit...but five stitches later I emerge lighter in the wallet and weary in spirit...but glad to have yet another ER visit in the books.

The rest of my Father's Day. Well...I'm just glad it was blood-free!

So Long, Elli Mae!

2008-06-05T10:20:00.000-06:00

2007 came to a sad close for the Campbell's. On the Saturday before New Year's Eve, I made the difficult decision that it was time for Elli Mae to, as the old hymn says, "Have a little talk with Jesus"...and do it face to face.

Old Elli Mae was 14-years old, practically blind, 99.9% deaf, and had reached a point where she was unable to stand up without help. Friday night I went out to the spot in the yard where she was laying and covered her with a towel and some leaves because she couldn't get up. I patted her a little bit and told her she wouldn't have to spend another night like that.

We got Elli Mae shortly after Robin and I moved into our first house. Robin thought she got an incredible deal - paying $50 for our "full-blood" yellow lab. It wasn't long before we realized that some random Shar-Pei had found its way into our Yellow Lab's gene pool. Those first nights were LOUD...with Elli crying and whining in the kitchen where we kept her hemmed in with cardboard boxes and other barricades.

Elli Mae was sweet...but she was on the same intellectual level as Forrest Gump. I could go on about some of her other habits...but I like to keep this blog as G-rated as possible.

Saturday morning I wrapped her up in a towel and took her for a ride in my father-in-law's truck. About halfway to the doctor's office I looked in the rear-view mirror. Incredibly, Elli Mae had managed to sit up and was hanging her head over the side of the truck enjoying the breeze. For a split second, I thought I should turn around and take her back home. But no sooner had the thought entered my mind than she slid her head back down into the bed of the truck.

When I arrived at the doctor's office, I boldly strode in and told the teenage girl that I had a dog that needed to be "put down." She asked, "What's the animal's name?" And I got the first syllable of the name out when the lump in my throat erupted. Geez - what a sap. She smiled, and said I could fill the paper work out later.

Out came the vet. We walked to the back of the truck, and he asked me if I wanted to be there when he gave her the shot. I should've stayed...but I just couldn't. So I walked away while he quietly sent "Big L" on her final journey.

He motioned to me that he was finished, and I walked over to her. He asked me to bring her around back so that he could dispose of her accordingly. I decided to carry her just so that I could hold her one final time...and I bawled like a baby the whole way.

It's AMAZING how attached you can get to something that has no soul. I mourned that entire day for that dog...and I have gone through a half-dozen Kleenex typing this short entry. It's a shame I don't mourn for all the lost people around me who DO have souls...and even sadder that I put forth so little effort to reach out to them.

Politics At Its Cruelest

2007-12-28T09:16:00.000-06:00

Why would anyone WANT to be President of the United States of America?

Your opponents go through your past, dredge up everything you ever said that was controversial, stupid, incorrect, or misunderstood.

Your opponents go through your past to find any and all improprieties, errors in judgments, and random acts of idiocy.

Your opponents do the same things to every member of your family.

And even if your found to be clean as a whistle...some dork winds up snapping a picture of you or a family member looking like this!

Now granted, this brought me a considerable amount of joy. Heck, I had to get up from my desk because I was laughing so loud. But c'mon - give poor Chelsea a break -- at least get a picture of her mom making a face like this!!!

Christmas Is About Learning

2007-12-27T08:34:00.000-06:00

I love Christmas!

But I don't enjoy watching people run willy-nilly to the mall during their lunch break to buy one more gift while I try to navigate the drive-thru at Panda Express. I don't enjoy talking to a customer on the phone while trying to tune out the din of my co-workers agonizing to one another about equalling out the amounts they have spent on their children. I don't enjoy wrapping gifts...even though I'm really, really good at it (just ask Robin)!!! Of course, I also don't enjoy the gift bag (I think that's a cop-out!). I don't enjoy taking back pants that are the wrong size...and finding that they no longer have my size (will someone PLEASE tell my mother I have a 34" waist!!!).

I don't enjoy all of that...but I do love Christmas.

I love the fact that Jacob, our youngest, is still more excited about the process of opening a present than he is about what's inside. Heck, you could wrap an empty two-liter bottle of Diet Coke, and the kid would be ecstatic! And I learned to enjoy the ride.

I love the fact that a used $2.99 Nintendo Gamecube game was really all that Elijah wanted for Christmas. Mommy and Daddy felt compelled to shower him with more than he needed or wanted. And I learned a valuable lesson - LISTEN TO YOUR CHILD!

I love the fact that a simple Whoopee Cushion (I THINK that's how you spell it) will keep Noah entertained for days (though I have vowed to get my brother-in-law back for that one!). And I learned to appreciate the simple things.

I love watching my boys shop earnestly for the family we adopted for Christmas. And I learned to do more than just go through the motions.

I love being around my family. And I learned that I am blessed beyond measure.

I hope both of you had a Merry Christmas!!!

I'm Glad You Can Read, But...

2007-12-21T11:41:00.000-06:00

One of the most exciting things about being a parent is watching your child learn. Elijah LOVES to learn...and it's amazing what a tremendous reader he has become over the past few months. He reads EVERYTHING...cereal boxes; the credits on a movie; billboards; etc. You write it - he'll read it.

And while it's great that he can read...it's not ALWAYS a good thing. For instance...

Elijah and I took a trip to the mall in Sherman to do a little Christmas shopping and visit with Santa. The mall in Sherman has a Dillard's...which just happens to have a jukebox blaring various songs by a wide variety of artists. It's a new-fangled jukebox - instead of records, it has CD's...with the CD covers displaying the artist, title of the CD, and list of songs available.

On this particular day, and Aerosmith tune was playing ("Toys In The Attic"...which, by the way, R.E.M. does a GREAT cover of). The catalog of CD's was opened to Aerosmith...and right above the Aerosmith CD was AC/DC's "Back In Black." I'm a HUGE AC/DC fan, and I commented to Elijah, as we walked by, "Oh man, that's one of the greatest CD's of all time."

Big mistake!

Elijah is thus moved by The Spirit to do a U-turn and run to the jukebox to learn more about AC/DC by reading this CD. Although Elijah is a fantastic reader, he has yet to learn the art of reading SILENTLY. In fact, with the volume of the music at a fairly high level, Elijah is not content to read in a normal tone. No - he feels compelled to read at a level that everyone within 50 feet can hear him.

And what does he read first? Do he go to Track 1? No...which is sort of a good thing, since the first song is called "Hell's Bells." Instead, he goes to Track 5, and reads the title of that song EXTREMELY loud...

"LET....ME....PUT....MY....LOVE....INTO....YOU"

Instantly every eye within earshot turns to Elijah...a couple with horrified expressions. Others begin to snicker. I...being the juvenile that I am...begin to giggle as well. Elijah looks at me with a quizzical expression.

"Daddy, what's so funny," he asked?

"Nothing," I replied, trying to muffle my laughter.

"Well, what does that mean - Let Me Put My Love Into You?" More laughter comes from the growing crowd...now anxiously awaiting an embarrassed father's response.

"Let Me Put My Love Into You," Elijah asks again? "Daddy, I don't get it - why is that so funny."

Daddy is now walking away at a rapid pace, hoping no one will notice his reddened face OR the child running behind him asking the meaning of this new reading phenomenon introduced by AC/DC.

I'm Alive

2007-12-21T11:30:00.000-06:00

Hi...

Yes, I know...I haven't written anything in months and months. So I apologize to both of you for my lack of blogging. Please forgive me...it's just that my life has been really boring for the past few months.

I promise to write more next week...as it oughtta be a really slow week at work.

In the meantime, since it's the Christmas season, please enjoy what I believe to be the best Christmas picture in the history of photography. This truly tragic photo was taken in December 2002 after Elijah had just turned two. It STILL makes me giggle out loud to this very day.

And don't worry....after months of therapy Elijah was back to normal.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

10 More Observations From The Road

2007-07-26T11:05:00.000-06:00

10 More Travel Observations:

1) You can tell you’ve left the Bible belt when you drive through a small town in rural America, and the biggest building in town is NOT the local Baptist church (the Catholic church or the Lutheran church are BY FAR the biggest!).
2) When the lady at the Avis counter asks, “Are you Preferred” she’s not hitting on you – she merely wants to know if you have a frequent renter’s agreement with their company.
3) Red Sox fans are very afraid that the Yankees will overtake them
4) The Pontiac Gran Prix has a REALLY big blind spot!
5) Massachusetts barbecue…not very good!
6) New York City is BIG!!!!
7) Folks from the Northeast enjoy hearing a Texan talk…but ONLY if he has a thick accent.
8) When you open up your Bible on a plane, the folks around you get really nervous.
9) However, people ask to borrow your Bible when the ride gets extra-bumpy!
10) Although I hate being gone from them, it’s really fun to come home and have your children sooo excited to see you!

Insights From The Road

2007-07-09T18:12:00.000-06:00

It's been two months since I began my travel-intensive role with IntegraSys. I enjoy travelling...although I feel bad leaving my wife at home with the three high-energy, high maintenance little boys. I'll make it up to her soon - she deserves a very long vacation!!!

Anyhow, I was reflecting on all the things I've encountered in a short period of time. Here are ten of them...

1. Why does Golden Corral attract seemingly the most down-trodden and most unhealthy folks in any given city?
2. Best beds - Hampton Inn!
3. Who are The Gideons...and where did they get all those Bibles?
4. If you ever get to the airport early or have a long layover...just sit down in a chair near a high-traffic area, and watch the people. It's fun to imagine what's going on inside their head.
5. I'm never traveling with golf clubs again.
6. Why does my non-smoking hotel room always smell like smoke?
7. Nothing beats minor league baseball
8. Waffle House doesn't take credit cards; neither does Cici's.
9. Moses could lead the Israelites through the desert...but I bet he couldn't get them through O'Hare!!!
10. Why do hotels place a full-length mirror on the side of the door facing the toilet? Do you really want to see that going on???

Happy Monday from Evansville, IN!!!

Accidents Will Happen

2007-06-25T17:28:00.000-06:00

In the 6-1/2 years that I've been a father, I've made a grand total of ONE trip to the emergency room. AMAZING...when you consider we have three rowdy, fearless little boys.

This past week, however, that number went to two.

I've been spending the week with my in-laws in Howe (the speed trap just south of Sherman on US-75), then driving back to Abilene on the weekends. To give Robin a break, I take at least on of the boys with me for the week. This also gives mee-maw and pee-paw a chance to hang out with their grandchildren on an individual basis.

Noah was with me this past week. It was about 9:30 Tuesday evening, and my 4-1/2 year old was brushing his teeth while standing on a stool. Noah likes to shake his "groove thing" while brushing his teeth...which is never a good idea while standing on an old rickety platform.

"Noah, you're going to get hurt - why don't you get down from there," I said.

Well...he got down.

I hadn't taken two steps past the bathroom door when I heard a crash followed by crying. Not the crying of a child who has fallen and thinks to himself, "Wow - that scared me - I should cry." No, this was the "Dang, that hurts...and I'm bleeding...A LOT" cry.

I walked back to the bathroom expecting to find a sleepy little boy who had a bump. Instead I found a sleepy little boy with a large gash below his eyebrow.

Now Robin and I have an agreement. It's not documented anywhere - it doesn't have to be! The agreement is simple - I handle the vomit; she takes care of blood!

But there was no Robin!

So Daddy had to act. I quickly scooped up my 50-lb son and pressed paper towels against his head. Meanwhile, I'm wiping puddles of blood from his face. Curious to see how my first aid is working, I pull the towels away from little Noah's head, and I felt like I was in a "Rocky" movie.

"Cut me, Mick," went through my head.

SO I grabbed my keys, slipped on my shoes and walked my nearly-naked son out to the car. Off we went to Sherman's Wilson N Jones Hospital. Ironically, the last time I had been there was when Noah was born.

We were triaged (is that a word?) at 10p.m....but it was a busy night in the ER. A shooting, a stabbing, a bad car accident, and lots of other more serious maladies kept Noah and I from being tended to until 2:30a.m.

The good thing about this was that Noah had fallen fast asleep...and all the blood, swearing, and crying hadn't phased him a bit (I, on the other hand, was completely traumatized - my nerves were shot!).

The doctor finally gets to the room toting a large leather straight-jacket. And he and the two nurses plan to get Noah wrapped up like a hot dog without waking him.

Well...they ALMOST made it!

About the time the last velcro strip is being fastened young Noah begins to stir. And as the doctor is approaching Noah with the lidocaine-filled needle his eyes open.

To say that he flew into a panic would be like saying Methuselah was middle aged!

Like vultures on an antelope's carcass, the nurses pounced my writhing son. "Talk to him, Dad - calm him down," one of them ordered.

GEE - WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?!?!?!? Uh, Noah, I realize that you have a big needle plunging into your eyebrow and your arms are securely fastened by your side to keep you from moving...but could you relax a bit?

All I could do was hum the theme from "Star Wars" and tell him how good he was doing. I feel confident that all of Grayson County and most of Collin County heard Noah's pleas for help.

Three stitches later it was over. I scooped my scared little boy and held him close. We walked back to the car ($125 lighter!) and before I could pull out of the parking lot he was asleep.

So I pulled the car over, kissed his little head, opened my car door, and threw up!

Where was Robin?!?!?

Oops...sorry!

2007-06-24T19:36:00.000-06:00

My most sincere apologies to both of you who occasionally stop by my blog for an update on the goings-on with the Campbell's. It's been a busy couple of months...but this is still no excuse for not checking in with you.

I just completed my sixth week with the organization I was with prior to my move to ACU. So I'm back in the rat-race in Frisco, TX (north of Dallas)...and, truthfully, I'm enjoying it.

Granted, I can reflect on my four years at ACU and remember them fondly. While I had many memorable moments while at ACU...here are my 10 favorite:

1) Being the voice of the ACU women's basketball team.
2) Living .6 miles from work!
3) Being apart of the resurgence of JamFest
4) Renewing old friendships from my college days
5) Hosting alumni events at Minute Maid Park in Houston
6) Coaching the Abilene Christian High School girls' basketball team.
7) Getting to talk about ACU Homecoming on Abilene television (I think as many people saw that as people who read this blog!)
8) Meeting some WONDERFUL people who love God and who love ACU...and made working at ACU a real blessing.
9) Learning how to play Texas Hold'em!
10) Figuring out where all the good Blizzards are at (FYI - the best Blizzards are at the Dairy Queen in Sommerville!!!)

More soon....I PROMISE!!!

Abilene In The Rear View Mirror

2007-05-03T07:35:00.000-06:00

Today concludes my second four-year stint at ACU. This time, however, I don't get a fancy piece of paper that declares I'm smarter than I was when I got here. I am, however, once again leaving with a flood of memories. Robin, the boys and I have had a great time here in Abilene...but this new move represents a better long-term solution for our family.

I'm returning to the organization I was with prior to coming to ACU. EDS sold the organization to a company called Fiserv - the division I will be working for is called IntegraSys. We supply data processing solutions to credit unions.

No...it's not real sexy or exciting...but it IS a great company, and I'm looking forward to the challenge.

I start on Monday, May 7th. Meanwhile Robin and the boys will stay behind in Abilene until the school year is over...AND to sell the house (know anyone that wants a 5 bedroom, 3 bath house on "the hill"???). So please pray for them during this transition. Oh...and pray for me, too...as I'll be living with my in-laws!

I will try to blog more frequently...so stay tuned.

Okay...someone cue up "40"!

"Thank you, Abilene! Good night!"

Top Ten Good-byes

2007-05-01T13:25:00.000-06:00

Thursday, May 3rd, will be my last day here at good ol' ACU. Robin, the boys and I are heading back to the Metroplex. I'll expound more on that next time.

But during this time of reflection I've been thinking of ways to say "good-bye." And what says "good-bye" better than a song. So...from the home office in Chickasha, OK, are the Top Ten Good-bye Songs of All Time.

10. "Friends are Friends Forever" (Michael W. Smith) - True, I hate the song as much as the next person...but nothing can get a bunch of folks swaying back and forth while holding hands (with the possible exception of singing "Saw Varsity's Horns Off" at an Aggie game). This song is especially effective when Amy Grant makes a cameo appearance during the singing...though I doubt she'll be doing that during my farewell reception.

9. "Time For Me To Fly" (R.E.O. Speedwagon) - I'm a product of the 80's, so this list will be 80's-intensive. And no list of good-bye songs would be complete without an offering from these guys.

8. "It's So Hard To Say Good-Bye To Yesterday" (Boyz II Men) - Soul meets doo-wop. Love it...I just wish I could sing it!

7. "Time Of Your Life" (Green Day) - It sounds weird to me for a punk band to sing an acoustic ballad-type song....especially when it almost brings a tear to your eye. This is the perfect slide show song.

6. "I'll Be" (Edwin McCain) - I was at the funeral of a teenager once when this song was played...and I cried my eyes out! It's sounds more like a love song...but it was a pretty effective good-bye FOREVER song for me.

5. "Take The Name Of Jesus With You" (Song #500 in "Great Songs of the Church): As a life-long member of the C of C, how could I not mention this?!?!?! We used to sing this practically every Sunday night as the dismissal song when I was growing up. Granted, I don't like the song...but it gets its message across.

4. "Goodbye" (Hootie & The Blowfish): C'mon, the name of the song is "Goodbye" -- how could it NOT be on the list. Even though it's the next to last track on "Cracked Rear View" (which, by the way, is what you get when a plumber comes to your house - ha), it really is a tremendous song about saying farewell to one you love.

3. "Adam's Song" (Blink 182): This is a little dark...especially since it's a good-bye as a result of a suicide. But, nonetheless, a moving farewell that causes one to think.

2. "Don't You Forget About Me" (Simple Minds): The title says it all...and, since it's associated with one of the greatest movies of all time ("The Breakfast Club"), it HAS to be on the list. But it ain't quite #1. That belongs to...

1. "40" (U2): Since 1984 they have ended every concert with this song. So when 15,000 screaming fans demand that you say good-bye in a particular manner...well, that's enough to make it number 1 on my list. I think I'll play this as I pack my office.

Either of you wanna weigh in on good-bye songs? Feel free...

What's wrong with this picture...

2007-04-25T15:20:00.000-06:00

One of my co-workers was trolling through facebook today...when they happened on this most unfortunate photo...taken some time in the Spring of 1992. It's a picture of the "leadership" (and I use that term ever-so-loosely) of the Senior Class at Abilene Christian University. Though this picture is of some great men (a doctor, two ministers, and a principal...oh, and Terry Sparks and I are in there, too!), there are also some significant problems.

1. Stephen Bailey's hat (far left) - No hat should look like it has been pressed and starched!

2. Craig Fisher (third from right) - Ah...where has the sweater vest gone?

3. Terry Sparks (second from right) - Acid wash. C'mon...really?

4. Me (far right...and yes, to quote Nirvana, I'm "half the man I used to be): The weave belt only worked if you had enough belt to weave. Unfortunately, I tried to take a belt that actually fit and turn it into something it wasn't.

5. Me (again!): No, I have no idea what was going through my mind when I selected that shirt from my closet. It was probably a shirt my mother bought for me...at least that's my story.

6. Six guys should NEVER look that happy to be hugging one another.

Feel free to chime in with any other glaring atrocities that you might see. Oh...and a special thanks to Brandon Scott Thomas for giving my wife yet another reason to roll in laughter at my expense!

Reflections While Cleaning Out My Hard Drive

2007-04-19T08:53:00.000-06:00

I was cleaning a bunch of old files off my hard drive this morning...when I ran across a short essay I wrote for a class I took. When I first came back to work for Abilene Christian University I was bound and determined to complete my Masters degree. Well....at least I STARTED working on my Masters.

Anyhow, one of the classes I took was called Cultural Diversity, taught by the late, great Charles Trevathan. Each student was tasked with interviewing someone of a different race, and find out what they thought about their experience at ACU.

One of our student workers in the Alumni Relations office suggested I track down a young lady from St. Thomas, named Dacia Samuel, and interview her. What a wonderful experience this was...and following is the essay I wrote (got an "A!")

The last time I walked into Sikes Dormitory was in the spring of 1990. While my goals fourteen years later were considerably different than they were back then, the results were the same – I met a sweet, charming young lady.

Dacia Samuel was born and raised in St. Thomas of the Virgin Islands. She had never left the tiny island of 56,000 people nestled in the Caribbean until her first day on the campus of Abilene Christian University. To see this young lady walking across campus one would classify her as African American, but her beautiful Caribbean accent quickly nullifies that categorization. Dacia does not refer to herself as African American. “I’m black, but I’d prefer to just be called ‘Dacia.’”

While she has loved her Abilene experience (“I never knew people could be so friendly,” she says), the West Texas landscape has often caused her to become a little homesick. There are other characteristics of West Texas that cause her to long for her tiny island. Society is much more laid back in St. Thomas. People are not in such a hurry to be on time. For instance, while the sign on her St. Thomas church building says worship begins at 9:00AM, one may count on it being 9:20 before the first “good morning” is uttered.

And though Dacia has a boyfriend here in the United States, she has noted something interesting about men on the ACU campus. “They are so sensitive,” she said with a giggle. “You can’t say stuff to boys here that you would say back home. They get their feelings hurt too easy.”

The number of prejudice moments she has experienced while in Texas have been few and far between. And even the moments she has experienced have been more out of ignorance than meanness or hatred. One particular instance she noted came from the ACU administration. A survey was taken on students’ satisfaction with Chapel. Several students made comments on the survey that a large number of black students routinely disrupted Chapel by leaving too early. An announcement was made at the Thursday “small group chapel” for Essence of Ebony asking for black students to refrain from leaving early. Dacia sited that a similar number of white students may be seen leaving Chapel early as well, and questioned whether they were admonished for their behavior.

Dacia has experienced more discrimination in her homeland than she has in the United States. Though small in size and in land mass, society on the island of St. Thomas remains segregated. The schools on St. Thomas are segregated – white kids go to school with white kids and vice versa. Dacia said that it is common knowledge on St. Thomas that white people go to the movies early while the blacks go to the later movies, and rarely do the races interact with one another

The one place where there is no segregation on St. Thomas is at Church. The church of Christ on St. Thomas is an even mix of white and black people. She loves her congregation back at home, but the worship at her home congregation in Abilene – the predominantly black 10th & Treadaway Church of Christ – makes Sunday morning the highlight of her week. Worship on the island is more reserved than at her experience at Treadaway. “We just sound like we’re full of joy and that we’re happy that God is alive,” she says with a huge smile.

Dacia is encouraged by the lack of prejudice she has witnessed while at ACU. While she expected the transition to life on a predominantly white campus to be difficult, it has been much easier than she anticipated. On-campus groups like Essence of Ebony along with other international students provide a valuable support group for minority and international students. Such groups also encourage Caucasian students to participate in their events. One such event is Chai Café, a weekly event held each Thursday night with the goal of mingling international students with other student groups. Though sparsely attended by Caucasian students Dacia is pleased to see international students attempting to cross cultural lines.

Essence of Ebony is another on-campus group that has created a great support group for Dacia as well as other black students. Dacia sees Essence of Ebony’s commitment to bringing black culture to the ACU campus as a positive step towards increasing racial harmony. However she would like to see Essence of Ebony reconsider their strategy on certain programs. “Essence of Ebony is not exclusively for black students; we want all types of students to be involved with our program,” Dacia said, “but we’ve named things so that only black students will want to attend." In her opinion some of their strategies have been more discriminatory than anything else she had witnessed on campus.

Dacia is not overly concerned by her fellow students’ lack of knowledge of her country. However she grows tired of pinpointing exactly where St. Thomas is located. “United States citizens know very little about the outside world, but they expect everyone to know about their country,” Dacia remarked, adding that ACU students tend to think St. Thomas is part of either Jamaica or the Bahamas.

Dacia Samuel is a sophomore working toward a degree in Management. She is confident, intelligent, well-spoken, thoughtful, and spiritual. Combined with a fabulous smile and a glorious accent, she is guaranteed to be a success in whatever career she chooses. She is not overly concerned with the fact that there are people in her new nation, her new city, and even on her college campus who hate her because of the color of her skin. Instead she chooses to surround herself with people who will support her and encourage her to accomplish her goals.

Other Reasons for RUNNING

2007-04-10T09:33:00.000-06:00

I didn't realize it had been so long since I had written anything in my blog...so I apologize to both of you for my long hiatus. Actually...since I work in the world of Academia, let's call it a "sabbatical."

So I was in the locker room the other day, fresh off my four-mile jaunt around the campus, and I'm visiting with a gentleman that has emerged from the pool. "You're a runner, aren't you," he says to me. "I see you running around campus a lot." I nodded in acknowledgment, since I find it uncomfortable talking to strangers when I'm wearing nothing but a towel. "I hate to run," he continues, "but I really enjoy swimming."

He had struck a nerve with me, and caused me to hearken back to one of my most embarrassing and miserable experiences of my adult life.

I guess it all started when I was a child. Being reared in a staunch, ultra-conservative Church of Christ home, I was raised with the understanding that water is to be used for three purposes. They are, in order: (1)Baptism, (2)Bathing, (3)Drinking. Notably absent from this list is swimming...especially swimming of the mixed variety (often referred to as mixed-bathing by parents to ensure that the sinfulness of this dreadful act receives the highest attention).

Long story short, it was the summer before my 8th grade before I learned to swim...and I only learned then as a fit of desperation - I jumped into my uncle's pool, and learned as a matter of life or death.

Fast forward 22 years. Working in the Office of Alumni Relations at ACU is a young man of significant athletic talent and ability who has taken up swimming as a form of exercise. Every day at lunch, while I would run or play basketball, he would swim scores of laps in the ACU pool. He would often encourage me to come with him, but I would decline citing my glaring lack of swimming skill. He told me not to worry - that there were other people with far less athletic talent than I who swam during lunch.

After weeks of encouragement, I finally decided to give it a go. I left the ol' running shoes in the bag in favor of a pair of swim trunks.

This should have been my first indication that I was in trouble...for the swim trunks that I brought were the kind that you wear while running around on the beach or while playing in the pool. They were not the sort of aerodynamic (or AQUAdynamic) swimwear that one wears while striving to swim laps in a pool.

But this does not phase me as I trot into the pool area wearing my maroon floral shorts. There are already folks in the pool, traversing the 25 meter distance with relative ease. Sitting off to the side looking completely disinterested is a young lady in shorts and a t-shirt (with the word LIFEGUARD) across the front. Beside her is a flotation device which looks as though it hasn't been used in years.

I remove my shirt and quickly jump into the pool (didn't want the poor girl to get ill!), and off I go! Since I don't have much experience swimming farther than a few feet at a time, I opt for the "put your head down and go" method. What the heck - breathing is overrated! I reach the end of the pool, grab the wall, and turn to look at the other end of the pool. To my shock it looks as though the distance has multiplied!

Unphased by this revelation I once again put my head into the water, take a good push-off from the wall and start heading back the other way. I'm approximately 2/3 of the way to the wall when my oxygen supply begins to run out. Having watched the summer Olympics my entire life, I feel confident that I know the breathing technique that world-class swimmers use. So I turn my head to one side, take a breath and return my head to the water. Unfortunately, I don't quite get my entire nose and mouth out of the water. In an instant I flew into a panic, coughing underwater while still flailing my arms and legs in an effort to get to the wall. Somehow I managed to reach the shallow end. I stood up to finish the gagging process and noticed that the lifeguard, who previously had been sitting back in a relaxed state, was now sitting at the edge of her chair...like she was watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

Paying her no mind, I began my second trip through the pull. This time, however, I opted for the "throw your head from side to side" method of breathing (I don't think that's the technical term for it). Halfway to the deep end it felt as though I was towing a small boat. My strength (or lack thereof) began to give out, so I stopped to tread water for a bit. While doing so, I noticed that the lifeguard was no longer sitting, but was standing beside her chair. Using this as motivation I stuck my head in the water and swam with all my might. Mercifully I reached the wall.

As I once again admired the distance I must travel to get back to the shallow end I looked around the pool...and everything had grown still. All of the swimmers had stopped where they were. It reminded me of a showdown in an old Western film. Two gunfighters meet in the middle of town to settle the score, and the townspeople turn out to watch the carnage unfold. And I felt like the gunfighter that everyone knew was going to catch a bullet.

Once again, I plunged beneath the chlorinated waves endeavoring to cover another 25 yards. But I could feel myself fighting the losing battle. I grabbed the rope that lines the lanes and looked up - I was barely halfway there. The lifeguard, once standing by her chair had now worked her way to the edge of the pool. I ventured forth again - legs kicking wildly; arms flailing against the water like a child playing Whack-A-Mole at Chuck E. Cheese. When I finally reached the shallow end I put my feet down and walked the rest of the way in.

I quickly exited the pool, wrapped myself in a towel, smiled and shrugged my shoulders at the once-again-seated lifeguard, went to the locker room, put on my running shoes, and headed out to a form of exercise that I feel much more comfortable with!

The Reason I Run

2007-01-22T08:30:00.000-06:00

We had Noah's birthday party this weekend. Nothing like getting fifteen 3 and 4 year olds together for a little sugar rush. Good times!

My mom and dad drove into town for the party. They take great pride in the fact they have yet to miss one of these little extravaganzas (what can I say - my mom is a former teacher, and you know how teachers just LOVE perfect attendance!). Anyhow, Mom has gotten into this mode of cleaning out her house of clutter...so every time she comes to Abilene she has a box full of items for me. It usually consists of old newspaper articles, stuff I made when I was in second grade, etc.

This time, however, I was pleasantly surprised at some of the items that were in there: My hood, cap and gown from my college graduation; a $50 savings bond that my grandfather gave me when I graduated high school (now worth $64.28 - woo hoo!); a book of coins from the year of my birth (1970); some old pictures of my family; and a slew of other items from my days in college and high school.

I also ran across and envelope that said "School Pictures." It looked too small to contain a photograph, and it didn't feel like it had anything in it. But I made the fateful decision to open it up anyway...with Robin standing nearby. What emerged from the envelope caused such a stir of hysterical laughter on the part of my wife that that I thought I was going to have to get out the Campbell family defibrillator.

It was my 6th grade and 7th grade class picture.

I have often recounted to folks that I was a fat kid...but I've been slow to provide documentation. However today, in a fit of humiliation, I proudly provide both of you with support of my claim that I was a big 'un!

After Robin managed to gain control of herself, she said something to the fact of, "But you were still cute." Uh...yeah. Sadly, the picture on the left (my 6th grade year) bears a striking resemblance to the character Englebert from the original "Bad News Bears" movie (remember - the fat catcher?).

So, dear friend, THIS is why I run, consume Veg-all and pineapple as part of my daily diet, and sympathize with most of overweight America.

And if you listen closely....you can still hear my wife cackling! THANKS MOM!!!

Prayers For A Friend

2007-01-19T09:04:00.000-06:00

Today I simply want to ask both of you to pray for a friend of mine. Don Booker is in a hospital in Houston fighting for his life. What once was thought to be a bad headache as emerged as hydrocephalus. Surgery was performed on Don to help relieve the pressure on his brain...but he has never woken up from the surgery.

Don has a wife and two teenage boys and a slew of family and friends that desperately want Don to stick around for a while.

So would you please stop down for a moment and pray for him? For more information on Don go to: www.caringbridge.org/visit/donaldbooker

Thanks!

FORE!!!

2007-01-17T07:32:00.000-06:00

Oops...I spelled that wrong. I meant to say "four." Noah turns four today. What a joy and a blessing he has been. While it's true that he is probably going to be the one that pushes the envelope, he's also the most loving and compassionate to his mommy....which, of course, simply makes her melt.

I've always been fascinated to see what celebrities share the same birthday as I do...and how that relates to patterns of greatness. For instance, I share a birthday with baseball greats Nolan Ryan, Ernie Banks, and Jackie Robinson. And, of course, my high school baseball exploits are legendary!!!

So I was curious to see who Noah shared a birthday with You can imagine my excitement at finding that he was born on a day of greatness. His birthday keeps company with the likes of Benjamin Franklin, James Earl Jones, Anton Chekov, Jim Carrey, Muhammad Ali, and Dwayne Wade. So I figure he is destined for greatness as an orator, author, entertainer or athlete.

Of course I continued to read down the list...and he also shares a birthday with Al Capone, Andy Kaufman, and Kid Rock.....YIKES!!!

The Ice Storm of 2007

2007-01-16T10:24:00.001-06:00

Okay...first of all, can we tap the brakes a bit and stop referring to this weather event in Abilene as an "ice storm." To me, an ice storm means inches upon inches of freezing rain, sleet and snow with power lines snapping and an entire city brought to its knees.

Anyhow, we heeded the advice to "travel only in an absolute emergency," so Robin, the kids and I were cooped up in the house from Friday evening through Monday evening. While we enjoy being together as a family, here are a few observations about our extended weekend.

I am a grown man with a college degree. Elijah is in Kindergarten. So why the heck can I not beat him on this stinkin' football game he got with his Gamecube?!?!?! We have played 8 times, and I have failed to beat him once!!! He keeps telling me "it's just a game," which makes me even angrier. But Monday afternoon was the final straw...as he asked me, "Daddy, would you like me to let you win?"
Worship was cancelled on Sunday due to the ice, so the Campbell's held worship at the Gill Drive Church of Christ (also known as our house). Noah led the singing...complete with a rousing rendition of the Wise Man/Foolish Man song. We raised our hands several times during the song...so I guess you could say the Holy Spirit was moving. Elijah prayed. Graham crackers and Capri Sun were the communion emblems. And for good measure, I took each one of my kids out on the front porch and spanked them - just wouldn't seem like Sunday worship without a good beating.
Good football games on this weekend...at least that's what I heard! Not bitter - just busy!
Monday was MLK Day. I asked Elijah if he knew what that meant. He knew that MLK stood for Martin Luther King, Jr. (remember, he's G-T!). I then explained how MLK wanted Black people to be treated the same as White people. He looked at me funny and then went into some commentary on blond-headed children being the best and the rest being killed. I told him it sounded like he was getting Hitler and MLK mixed up. Then he wanted to know who Hitler was...so I told him to go play his Gamecube.
The MLK Day Parade was cancelled in Abilene on Monday. Wonder how long it will be before Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson blame a white conspiracy for the ice storm.
By Monday evening the Campbell's had had WAY too much togetherness. Cabin Fever was setting in...so we made a trip to Wal-Mart. This is a friendly reminder to those of you who haven't figured it out yet. If your family is getting on your nerves...the LAST PLACE YOU NEED TO GO IS TO WAL-MART!!!!!
Does anyone else lay awake at night listening to your heater running and start muttering, "Please turn off, please turn off, please turn off..." And it never does!

Happy Tuesday!

Scaredy Cat!!!

2007-01-12T09:09:00.000-06:00

Elijah and Noah claim they're afraid of the dark. I ain't buying it...as I know the total disdain they have for bedtime.

So I'm making a last ditch attempt to get them to go to sleep a couple of nights ago, and Elijah begins his melodramatic monologue on his fear of the dark. Using my best fatherly voice I explained to him that there's nothing to be afraid of. My exact explanation was, "Things in the dark are the same as they are in the light...only they're...darker."

Now....both of you are thinking, "Geez, what an idiot." Not so fast, oh kings of criticism. My carefully crafted response worked...as it so totally baffled Elijah that he had to lay down just to ponder what the old man had said.

I give each of them a hug, tell them "good night," and I'm almost out the door when Elijah springs up in bed and says, "Daddy, were you ever afraid of the dark?"

"Uh...yeah. Good night!"

"Daddy, what else were you afraid of?"

While some of us parents mistake this as inquisitiveness and the quest for more information, children know exactly what this is. It's called STALLING!!!!!

"We'll talk about that in the morning, on our way to school," I said. And I left the room.

It was then that I began to ponder all the things I was afraid of growing up...and, in some case, am STILL afraid of to this day. Don't laugh!

Having My Head Cut Off: I might as well start with the most shocking one first. When I was in third grade there was a mass murder that happened in Fort Worth in which all five victims were decapitated. I just knew that my family would be the next one this guy would go after. So to make sure he didn't come through my window I carefully aligned two boxes full of thumbtacks around my window sill. And it worked -- I still have my head!!!
Tornadoes: In Texas, April showers bring lightning, wind, hail and tornadoes. It's a fact of life that every Texan must deal with. I, unfortunately, was not able to deal with it. When the clouds would boil and the thunder would crash, I'd run to my room, crawl under my bed and cry. Of course, the only thing that would make this worse would be some sort of weather bulletin flying across the TV saying that Tarrant County was under a Tornado Warning. It was then that I would start dragging mattresses off the bed and shove them into the bathroom. While I was in the bathtub praying and crying my parents were calling a psychologist.
Flying: I must confess that, even after logging hundreds of thousands of miles of air travel, I am still a little afraid of flying. I say a prayer as I step on every plane, I pray for the pilot as we taxi to take off, and I recite the 23rd Psalms during every takeoff.
Monsters: Contrary to what all the nay-sayers think, monsters do exist...and they lived in my closet! But as every child knows, monsters can only "get" to uncovered parts of your body. I was fortunate to secure the use of a snorkel sometime around Kindergarten...and I would fall asleep at night with the covers pulled up over my head (regardless of how hot it was) with only the snorkel peeking out from under the sheets. Though this made for an uncomfortable night's sleep, it did keep all my limbs in tact.

I'll spare you the rest of the details on other childhood fears...but a special shout out should go to deep water (I still don't swim very well), mice, snakes, heights, and Santa Claus.

Please feel free to share your fears...and let's work through these traumatic times together.

A Chip Off The Old Block...Kinda!

2007-01-10T10:55:00.000-06:00

So I meet Robin and the boys at our traditional Tuesday evening eating establishment, Rosa's, and Robin is absolutely beaming. "I've got some exciting news to tell you," she says hurriedly.

I immediately rule out the possibility of a 4th Campbellite being on the way...as we had spent the entire holidays at either her parents and my parents and...well...you know...you just CAN'T (can you?). Anyhow, so I start mulling over in my head what this exciting news could possibly be. She orders...and then is about to tell me her news...when our dining partners arrive.

"I'll tell you later," she mumbles out of the side of her mouth.

That's not fair! You can't tell me you've got something exciting to share and then make me wait. So I'm scarcely able to enjoy my dinner because I'm entranced on what it could be that Robin has to share.

Did a rich uncle die and leave one of us as his sole heir?
Did the Dallas Cowboys get rid of Terrell Owens?
Is our TV stuck on ESPN?
Is KISS doing another "farewell" tour?
Did our cable provider get rid of HG TV?

These and a plethora of other great moments are flying through my mind. As we're driving to the house Robin says, "I'll tell you when we get home - I don't want the kids to hear."

Uh-oh! Maybe Victoria's Secret had a clearance sale??? I was prepared to order every kid upstairs, slide a pizza under the door, and tell them not to come down until the sun rises!

So we pull into the garage, the kids hop out, we pile through the utility room, and Robin makes a beeline to a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. "What's that," I ask? (I'm well known for asking the tough, hard-hitting questions).

"This is what I wanted to tell you about - it's Elijah's G-T application."

I feigned excitement the best I could for a span of two to three seconds. But seeing how Robin was so excited, I had to ask the next "tough" question.

"Uh...what's 'G-T'?"

She shook her head as though she'd just been struck by an anvil. "Duh - it stands for 'Gifted and Talented'. He's made it through the preliminary screening, and he's being invited to apply for the Gifted and Talented program at his school."

Pretty exciting stuff...but I'll hold off on contacting the folks at Harvard and Yale until after he completes Kindergarten. And this just goes to show that Elijah got both his athleticism AND his brains from his mother.

Gee - I wonder if he's even my child!!!

Jacob's First Haircut

2007-01-08T11:38:00.000-06:00

You know that when your wife’s family starts referring to your youngest child as "Joe Dirt” it’s time to get the boy’s hair trimmed.

So that was one of our little adventures over the Christmas holiday. We were in the thriving metropolis of Howe, TX – home to Robin’s parents…AND to Jan – quite likely the greatest woman to ever wield a pair of shears.

I dread the first haircut…because in the Campbell household, the first haircut is a theatrical production of the highest order. Every filming device must be secured, so I trudge to the car with digital camera and video camera in tow. I also must tote a box of Kleenex. While my wife is most assuredly the emotional rock of our family (I, in turn, carry the title of emotional WRECK), the first haircut renders my wife into a blubbering, sobbing mass of uselessness. She sees this as their first leap from “baby” to “boy.” (I, on the other hand, declare they have made this leap the first time they’re in the bathtub and locate their "wing-ding").

So off we go…and my wife goes from being “mom” to “movie director.” I am instructed to take a variety of shots of varying poses. Take his picture walking to the car. Take his picture getting into the car. Take his picture sitting in the car. Take his picture getting out of the car. Take his picture trying to get back in the car. Video him (from the rear) walking up to the door, opening the door, walking in, disturbing all of the ladies getting their manicures and pedicures. Etc., etc., etc. It took John Hughes less time to direct "The Breakfast Club" than it takes for Robin to photograph her children getting their hair cut.

Finally, after investing four hours and three memory cards full of pictures, Jacob is in the chair and draped with the plastic apron. The squirt bottle hasn’t even begun to spray and Robin is already getting misty-eyed. I, on the other hand, continue to film away…but all the while I’m preparing for my other role. For in a short while, I am to become the “Human Restraint Mechanism.”

Rewind to almost five years ago when a young Elijah Campbell ventured to the same location to receive his first haircut. Granted, Elijah is our emotional child (gee, wonder where he gets that from)…but one would have thought the child was having his tonsils removed sans anesthesia! No sooner had the first drop of water touched his little head when he began to scream and wail like mourners at James Brown’s funeral! Before all was said and done I wound up sitting in the chair holding his arms and desperately dodging hair, scissors, and Elijah’s bobbing and weaving head. The folks that rate the movies would’ve given this event a PG-13 rating due to the sheer volume of foul language and violence.

Noah’s first foray wasn’t much better…though far less blood was shed. It was, however, entertaining enough to make into a music video – set to The Cure’s mini-hit “Boys Don’t Cry.” (One of these days I'll post that on YouTube).

So the cutting begins…and continues…and continues. Jan is met with very little resistance. “What child is this,” I exclaim aloud, myself now overcome with emotion and reaching for the Kleenex! Eventually, a little assistance is required once the hedge trimmers are brought out to make the final run-through.

Once the damage is complete Robin quickly reaches for her now grown-up boy and tearfully hugs Jan. Dutifully, I turn off the video camera and snap the final pictures.

Now if I can just get 20th Century Fox to buy the rights!

Random Holiday Observations

2007-01-08T08:30:00.000-06:00

Just a few rambling tidbits concerning the entire Christmas/New Year holiday:

Is there anything more fun than watching your kids run into the room to see what Santa Claus brought them!?!?! Elijah asked Santa Claus for a Nintendo Gamecube…and Santa easily secured this request. Noah, on the other hand, had asked Santa Claus for a treasure chest. Santa was a bit perplexed by this one, but got a little help in finding this cardboard treasure chest complete with a pirate costume and other accessories – eyepatch, sword, dagger, axe, headband, etc. He was tickled to death and has spent most waking hours with at least a portion of this costume on his body. Jacob got a whiffleball bat – BIG mistake!
Who decreed that it’s good luck to eat black-eyed peas for good luck? Why cant it be good luck to eat chocolate cake or ice cream? Why isn’t it good luck to eat chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes. Heck, I’d even settle for a variety of other vegetables to eat for good luck…as long as they don’t taste like dirt!!!
Are either of you uncomfortable watching Dick Clark on TV. I think what he is doing is admirable…but it is positively painful to watch him. That being said, it’s equally painful watching Ryan Seacrest. My wife tells me he’s good looking, but c’mon – is he funny??? I don't get him...but I guess that's why he's making millions doing what he's doing and I'm...well, I'm making less than he is.
Spent New Year’s Eve with some old friends of ours from our days in McKinney and had a blast. The best part of the night was playing this new board game that one of them brought. I can’t remember the name of it, but it was hysterical. I LOVE games like that – Scattergories, Outburst, SceneIt (Robin got me the ESPN version for Christmas), Trivial Pursuit, etc. A special shout out to other old reliables like Skip-Bo, Uno, Spades, and “42”.
How long is too long to leave up your Christmas lights? Christmas tree should come down the day after the last gift has been opened…but I think Christmas lights are acceptable up until the playing of the BCS Championship game.
A shout out to LSU for making my holiday season complete by putting a good ol’ fashion butt-whoopin’ on the Failing Irish of Notre Dame.
Only 349 more shopping days ‘til Christmas!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

2007-01-03T22:06:00.000-06:00

Man, I bet NO ONE has posted anything about New Years Resolutions on their blog yet!!! I’m not big on this type of thing…so let’s just say I’ve set some goals for myself to accomplish in the upcoming year. Following are a couple of those goals:

1. Read the entire Bible: I realize this is a popular resolution among Believers…and, admittedly, I endeavored to do this last year. Unfortunately I was not disciplined enough and quickly got off schedule…WAY off schedule. My “excuse” was that in my quest to READ the Bible I wasn’t taking time to truly study and search for what the deeper meaning was. Oh yeah…I also got to dadgum lazy!!! But Robin got one of those “read the Bible in a year” Bibles…so I’m going to try to be disciplined enough to follow that schedule AS WELL AS be a good student of what God’s word says.
2. Run A Marathon: I’ve run two marathons…but as I approach 40, I feel the need to accomplish something physically challenging. I figure this is the cheapest kind of mid-life crisis for a guy to have…as I can’t afford a sports car (as for the other sort of mid-life crisis…Robin has nothing to worry about. I love her more than the day I married her…and besides, no “young thing” is looking for a dumpy dude with a small bank account, a bald spot that resembles a plus-size yamulke and a minivan). Anyhow, back to my goal. Before children, this was a significantly easier thing to accomplish. Not so much any more – specifically because of the amount of time required to train. Granted, the daily runs of 5-6 miles aren’t that big of a deal – I can get those done early in the morning, during lunch, or late at night. It’s the long runs of 15, 18 and 20 miles that are difficult to incorporate. As slow as I run, you’re talking about investing 2-1/2 to 3 hours on a Saturday or Sunday. And then, once you’re done…you’re DONE! You’re outta gas! And my three sons cannot accept their father sitting on the couch recovering. They have to have a playmate that’s in his late thirties, has bad hair and answers to “Dad,” “Daddy,” “Dada,” or any other of a variety of names yelled at a high volume.. So this will be difficult, but I will find a way! (Oh, and I’d like to do one in a fairly exotic place so I can take my lovely wife with me – she can play while I sweat. See goal #4.).
3. Stop Swearing: I know this probably comes as an absolute shock to both of you, but I have the ability to drop a four-letter word occasionally. Granted, I don’t do it in front my children (I let my wife do that!). In fact, rarely do I do it in front of other people. But it’s a terrible habit I’ve battled since high school. So, in order to combat this, I have created a couple of jars (located at home and at work) that will receive a quarter for every tidbit of “unwholesome talk” that proceeds from my mouth. At the end of the year some lucky organization, to be determined at a later date, will receive this money. (Note: This entry is being written on January 3, 2007…and the jar already contains $1.00. I’m off to a bad start!!!).
4. Become Debt Free: Dave Ramsey is my hero. He helps hundreds and thousands of folks each year become debt free. Robin and I aspire to be two of those people…and by the end of the year, we want to be in that position. I’ve got a plan laid out in my mind, which will be on paper soon, and we’re going to get this done. So watch out eBay – HERE WE COME!!!

These aren’t all of my goals, but they’re the ones that I can share without looking like too much of a buffoon or a sap. If either of you have recommendations on other things I should be pursuing I’d love to hear it!

Lessons From Uncle Dave, Part III

2007-01-01T01:12:00.000-06:00

A Time To Be Restored
Robin and I had the opportunity to visit with Dave in the hospital a couple of weeks before he really started to go downhill. As we were leaving Robin hugged him and asked if there was anything we could do for him. He said, "I really want to be baptized." That was music to Robin's ears...as it was something she had been praying about fervently for a long time.

So we made arrangments to come back the next day to baptize him. It was a Sunday afternoon. Dave was hooked up to more electronic devices than I had ever seen...so we had to improvise slightly. While Robin and Tracy were getting things ready with the nurses, I had a chance to visit with Malorie, Dave's 7-year old granddaughter, about what we were going to do.

"So what does this mean," she asked me?

"Well...this is your Opa's way of showing God that he's sorry for the things he's done...and, from now on, he's going to live every moment for Him."

Malorie thought about it for a moment then remarked, "So God is proud."

"You bet He is."

"And I'll bet God is very happy, too."

A little lump grew in my throat. "You know, I don't guess God has ever been happier with your Opa than he is today."

So we baptized Dave as best we could. We prayed over him, we cried over him, and we rejoiced with him...because he had been restored.

Webster defines restored as "being made new." What a perfect definition...and what a great feeling. And while I rejoiced with Dave and the assurance that he had of a home with Jesus in Heaven, I also rejoiced in the opportunity that God gave me to grow.

More than one person expressed apprehension at the curious timing of Dave's confession, repentance and baptism. Sadly, there are many Christians that are not big fans of the "eleventh hour" quest for salvation. Some of us who have heeded the Great Commission and strive to perform the will of Jesus seem to think that there is a minimum amount of service necessary before your restoration can be regarded as authentic.

But Christ obviously knew that would be the case. In the parable of the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16), Jesus mentions the anger and jealousy of those who worked a full day. When they saw that those who had worked only an hour received the same payment as them they were appalled. To be honest I had never given much thought to that parable until I heard of the reaction some Christians had to Dave's conversion.

It made me sad.

No...it made me angry.

But I can't let garbage like that rob me of the joy of knowing that Dave was restored.

Lessons From Uncle Dave, Part II

2006-12-18T21:43:00.000-06:00

A Time To Repent
Dave was only 60-years old when he died...but his body had been put through the equivalent of 100 years. The first 57 years of his life Dave lived hard, embracing the saying "let's eat and drink for tomorrow we die lifestyle." His priorities were way out of line - "having fun" was number one on the list...and if that meant quitting a job in order to have fun, so be it!

In his quest for entertainment he sacrificed a lot of things. He sacrificed his marriage...and he sacrificed a relationship with his son, Tracy. Tracy is a great guy. He loves his dad - always has, always will despite the way he was absent from most of his life.

But Tracy knew that the way his dad was living was unacceptable, and he wasn't going to subject his children to that sort of example. He told Dave that, and Dave quit EVERYTHING.

But that wasn't the only change Dave made. He knew that if he didn't replace the bad things he was doing with good things, the temptation to drift back into old habits would be great. So Dave began going to church. Not every Sunday...but occasionally. More and more he realized church was a good place for him to be.

Four days before Dave died he was lying motionless in his hospital bed. The family had been gathered as nurses felt he could be in his last hours. My mother-in-law, not wanting Dave to die without someone holding his hand, went to his side and whispered to him, "We're here, and we love you."

Instantly Dave's eyes opened, and he sat up in bed. He asked everyone to gather around him and hold hands...a HUGE request for the Stonebarger family. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, they did so. Then Dave said, "I want to pray." And he prayed...and he prayed...and he prayed. It was a prayer of penitence and confession. Dave confessed everything he had ever done to his brothers and sisters. At the end of the prayer there wasn't a dry eye in the joint. And that was about the last time Dave ever had much to say.

Dave's prayer wasn't just for him. Rather it was for his entire family. Dave loved having his family around him...and he didn't want that to be the last time they would all be together. His prayer was his message to them to get their lives in order by repenting of the way they had been living.

Next "time" - a time to be restored.

Lessons from Uncle Dave, Part 1

2006-12-15T10:18:00.000-06:00

We buried Robin's Uncle Dave yesterday. He finally lost his 2-year battle with Leukemia early Tuesday morning. What a cruel way to die...and while watching him die was agonizing, it was also a tremendous blessing.

I know that sounds odd...so let me explain.

Dave was only 60-years old...which, in my book, is WAY too young to die. But his body was much, much older than 60. For years he abused his body with a variety of drugs, alcohol, and nicotine. His life was a catalog of foolish choices and poor decisions. And he would've told you, as he told Robin and I, that he had repeatedly punched his ticket to Hell over the years

Until, about three years ago, his only son, Tracy, gave him an ultimatum. "Straighten out your life, or you'll never see your two grandchildren again." Dave loved Malorie and Hayden more than just about anything in the world...and if you had ever seen them you would understand why. Malorie is the most beautiful 8-year old girl - with pretty brown hair, happy eyes and a contagious smile. And Hayden is a handsome young man with the biggest Southern drawl a 4-year old can muster. Dave loved thim - he called them "MY kids."

So, in the blink of an eye, he did exactly as he was told.

Tracy wanted Dave's funeral to be personal...and since I was the closest thing to a preacher the Stonebarger's have in their family (I guess working for a Christian university makes you a preacher - ha!), he asked me to perform the service. I was honored to be asked...and I agreed to help.

Those of you who know me well can again testify that I'm just about the weepiest fella walking God's green earth...and I certainly didn't disappoint the Stonebarger's. I shared with them three lessons that I learned from Dave's life...and I think they're worth sharing with both of you as well.

The third chapter of Ecclesiastes almost serves as it's own eulogy. There is a time for everything under Heaven. But in Dave's life I learned about three other "times" that exist in our lives that aren't specifically mentioned in those first eight verses.

And the first one is a time for reflection.

All of us will die one day. Some of us may leave hundreds of thousands of dollars behind. Others will leave cars, boats, and houses. Others may leave boxes and boxes of memories. And some may only leave the clothes on their back. But one thing all of us WILL leave is a legacy.

James writes in his letter, "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." (James 4:14)

While Dave's sickness was painful and tragic to endure, it was merciful in that it provided him an opportunity to reflect on the legacy he was leaving for his family. Not all of us are guaranteed to know the day that death will be near. Not all of us will have the "luxury" of being able to gather the family around our deathbed in an attempt to make things right.

So the day to create your legacy begins today. As I stood in front of the family at the graveside and led the family in a final farewell to Dave, my youngest son Jacob (who is very much a daddy's boy) started yelling to me from the back of the room "Dada! Dada!"

And I lost it...before I even got started.

Every day I am building my legacy for he and his two brothers to remember. Tomorrow is not the day to improve that legacy. Next year is not the day to shine up that legacy.

The day is today.

Next "time" - a time to repent.

Weekend Lessons

2006-12-04T14:49:00.000-06:00

Robin made the 3-1/2 hour journey to scenic Howe, TX, this weekend to be with her family. Her Uncle Dave is in the final stages of a long battle with Leukemia, and she wanted to see him before he went to be with the Lord. I'll elaborate more on this at a later time.

So it was just Elijah and Daddy for the weekend. And the Beach Boys couldn't have written it any better than when they penned the words to "Fun, Fun, Fun."

While the weekend was full of valuable lessons, time permits me to only share a few with you.

1) Pizza is a viable option for any and every meal...and should be regarded as such.

2) It doesn't matter how many kids are in our house, the Campbell's will ALWAYS find a way to be late to church.

3) "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody" and "That's So Raven" are HORRIBLE baby sitters!

4) Elijah is afraid of Harry Potter movies.

5) When Dad says "Clean your room," kids hear you saying, "Hey, relax - watch more TV and spill some popcorn on the floor."

6) Elijah LOVES "spaghetti westerns" like "High Plains Drifter."

7) Everyone is glad when mommy comes home!!!

Noah's View On Education

2006-12-01T10:14:00.000-06:00

Robin and I have three sons. And the reason we have three sons is because....well....you know.

Anyhow, our three young men have brought considerable joy and laughter into our lives. They also often cause us to scratch our heads in amazement and wonder at the things they ask, say or do. Elijah is very perceptive and curious...and his favorite game is "Twenty Questions." The answer "Because..." or "I said so" just doesn't fly with him. He needs more data.

Jacob, mercifully, is too young to say anything more than "Dada," "Mama," "Ball," or "Hut" (yes, he's going to be a quarterback!).

And Noah....well....he doesn't say much. When he does say something it's either downright hilarious or makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

However, this week I learned that Noah has a future as a radio commentator or newspaper columnist. He speaks his mind - he tells you what he thinks. And you don't have to drag his opinion out of him.

This is supported by the attached picture. This picture is undoctored and unedited....but it quickly and clearly gives Noah's statement on education (Noah is on the back row - second from the left). Kinda brings a tear to my eye!

101 Things To Be Thankful For...

2006-11-28T14:16:00.000-06:00

Wow - has it been THAT long since I wrote anything??? I apologize to both of you that stop by here occasionally hoping for some morsel of wisdom. Like many of you I reflected this past week on the things I was thankful for...and even though the list was long, I decided to narrow it down to 101 things...just to be witty. So here it goes (in no particular order...except for the first one!):

Robin (my wife)
Healthy children
Electricity
Indoor plumbing
ESPN
ESPN2
ESPN Classic
Peanut butter
Garage door openers
Dr Seuss (heck, he taught me how to read!)
Paved roads
West Texas sunsets
Television
Televisions with built in VCR/DVD players!
Basketball
Friends
Chicken fried steak
Abilene Christian University
Belt loops
File folders (even though I don't use them enough)
Digital clocks and watches
Sunglasses
Highlighters (any color)
Couches
Christmas lights
Video cameras
Lucky Charms
The Internet
School lunches
Diet Coke
Diet Dr Pepper
Calendars
On The Border
Mexican food, in general!!!
Grandparents
Gravy
Dogs
Running shoes
Chocolate
Baggy-fit jeans
Any team that beats the University of Texas
Leafblowers
Remote control
High school football
Spray starch
Ceiling fans
Can openers
Golf
Steven Wright (the greatest comedian EVER!)
Both of you who read my blog
R.E.M.
Nurses
Pineapple
Heaven
Photo albums
Hangers
Paperclips
Post-it notes
Long underwear
Locks on bathroom doors
106.9FM, The Point (Houston Texas - all 80's station)
"Ferris Bueller's Day Off"
Every KISS reunion tour
The fact that WOMEN are the ones that have the babies!
Oranges
Maggie Holland (my Bible class teacher all through elementary school)
Tape
Trucks
Central heat and air
Garage door openers
George W. Bush
Firefighters
Toothpaste
Life insurance
Surround-sound
Gene Hackman movies
Direct deposit
Self-adhesive envelopes
Bubble gum
Bono
Scissors
Holidays
Snow
Refrigerators
Front porches
Brothers
File cabinets
Laughter
Extension cords
Grape jelly
Parents
Buttons
Milk
Green bean casserole
Keychains
Deodorant
"Herman" cartoons
eBay
Wind
Butterfingers
Jesus

You know....that wasn't that difficult!

So What Do You Wanna Talk About?

2006-08-17T21:40:00.000-06:00

Getting old stinks!

Granted, the alternative to growing old isn't so great...and I much prefer the aging process to the dying process...but there are things about growing old that really ruin the moment.

Case in point.

When I was five-years old, there was no politics, there was no 24-hour news channel, there was no global warming, there was no Muslim vs Christian, Muslim vs Jew, Muslims vs The Gypsies, or any other issues that seem important to our adult minds. Only two things mattered: (1) Cartoons, and (2) What's for dinner? And that's what we talked about. We debated which of the Superfriends was the most powerful. We racked our brains to figure out exactly what kind of creature H.R. Puff'n'Stuff was. We pondered why Weird Harold wore a pink lampshade on his head on "Fat Albert." We anxiously awaited the next perilous excursion that Wyle E. Coyote would take in pursuit of the Roadrunner. And we wondered what kind of casseroles our mothers would whip up for dinner...and how we could sneak it to the dog.

By the time I turned 10, my focus switched to sports. The Texas Rangers and the Dallas Cowboys occupied my every thought. I practiced batting like Mike Hargrove (a.k.a., The Human Rain Delay). I dreamed of being Roger Staubach or Danny White, throwing a winning touchdown pass in the waning moments to Drew Pearson or Tony Hill. I would defend the Fearsome Foursome against any Steel Curtain discussion that anyone could dream up. And I begged people to quiz me about who the starting infield was for the Rangers in 1977 (Mike Hargrove (1b); Bump Wills (2b); Toby Harrah (3b); Bert Campaneris (ss))

By the middle of my teenage years, I was still into sports...but then I began to recognize why God made woman and said that it was VERY good. I also began listening to a brand of music that my parents didn't understand. So in between discussions of who was the epitome of "fine": Beth Sullivan or Kathy Jo McAteer (the best that Southwest High School had to offer!), my friends and I would discuss the newest offering from U2, R.E.M., INXS, or any of the other once-known-as-Alternative-Rock bands of the '80s.

By college we had become MUCH more mature. Our conversations turned to our careers and our future. "What do you wanna do with your life?" or "What should I major in?" followed quickly by, "WHOA, who's that blonde over there?!?!?!"

Once college is over you start talking about family. About money. About that next promotion. About becoming successful. About goals. You talk about dreams and aspirations with the one you love. And you talk about growing old together.

And then one night, you're 36-years old, and you're sitting on a couch in your home watching your bride's eyes well up with tears as she learns of another friend's shattered marriage. And your discussions turn to exclamations of despair on how a woman could leave a husband and four children.

Earlier you made a trip to the other side of town to purchase prescription medication for a clinically depressed college student that can't seem to make wise decisions. And your conversation centers around a slew of "I promise to do better" and "Why don't you or my parents trust me?"

That morning you went to the hospital with some friends who came to town for the birth of their daughter's first baby...only there was no father there to share in the joy. Instead of rejoicing over the baby you contemplate aloud with half-excited, half-sorrowful parents on how a single mom can be a full-time student and care for an infant.

You talk about your parents getting older, your kids getting wilder, your back getting sorer, and the bald spot on your head getting bigger.

Thank God that tomb was empty!

Anyone for being five again???

What a day!!!

2006-08-15T21:27:00.000-06:00

Well...the highly-anticipated first day of Kindergarten for Elijah came and went...and what a special day it was. It got off to a bit of a rocky start. Seeing as this was my first time to ever take a Kindergarten student to his first day of school, I was a little underprepared for the stress and strain this causes on a family...and, specifically, on a Daddy!

I had forgotten to read the Official Parenting Handbook which clearly outlines the number of pictures to be taken on this first special day. Elijah...Elijah and Noah...Elijah, Noah, and Jacob...Elijah and his backpack...Elijah and his lunch...Elijah's first step out of the car...Elijah's SECOND step out of the car...Elijah's first step onto school grounds...Elijah and Mommy...Elijah and Daddy...Elijah and the random student who runs through the viewfinder at an inopportune time.

You get the idea. And even though it was a painstaking process, Robin did get this sweet picture which I think is priceless.

Secondly...there are a lot of kids that go to Taylor Elementary! And all of them brought their extended family for the first day of school. You could tell who the veteran parents were. They were the ones who stood at a distance, made sure their kid made it to the sidewalk, then headed back to the car. They're smart. They've been through the carnage...through the hand-to-hand combat involved in getting a picture taken of a student's first step into this new world. They carry the scars - both physical and emotional - and they want no part of the melee. When Noah heads off to Kindergarten, I may just ask him if he feels comfortable walking himself up there.

Thirdly...public education brings out all kinds. While I saw lots of folks I knew, I also saw many people I had never seen before. Interesting people who I share a community with. I saw at least one Mommy-Mommy couple...thank God that kid isn't in Elijah's class. I'm not quite ready for that discussion yet. I also saw more ink than one would find in a Bic factory. Is it just me, or does EVERYONE have a tattoo now? I know I'm out of style...but I didn't realize how popular the tattoo had become. I asked Robin if I could get her picture tattooed on my forearm...but she didn't respond.

Fourthly...I had forgotten how exhilarating lunch time could be. Elijah saw some pudding cups in the pantry last night and asked us what they were for. "They're for your lunch," Robin exclaimed. Elijah got a horrified look on his face. "I'm not taking my lunch to school - they have a cafeteria!" So he insisted on buying his lunch...and you would think that was the coolest thing in the whole world. Elijah's commentary: "They give you your own tray...AND chocolate milk!!!"

Lastly...HOMEWORK! My son had homework! Granted, it was just a simple review of his day...but I actually had to help with homework!!! It was a sheet with simple, fill in the blank questions. For instance, "When I got to school today I was _____." One question asked, "What was your favorite part of the day?" I just knew his answer would be "lunch." Instead, he said, "Getting to see my friend Alan again." Alan is the child of a single parent who we thought had moved to Galveston...and we were pleasantly surprised to see him in Elijah's class this morning.

So it was a special day indeed. Elijah was ready for us to leave, though. Mommy was taking too many pictures and crowding his space. So as we turned to leave, I thought I saw a tear in Robin's eye. Meanwhile, I remained stoic as usual...until I heard, "Daddy!" I turned, and Elijah came running out of the classroom and wrapped his arms around me and said, "I love you," then dashed back into class.

So yeah - I cried.

Kindergarten Memories

2006-08-14T21:37:00.000-06:00

August 15, 2006, will go down as a landmark date in the Campbell family...as Robin and I trot our oldest son off to school. Monday evening Elijah, Robin, and I went to "Meet The Teacher" night at Taylor Elementary. We found his room and anxiously bounded in to see what Kindergarten looks like.

It didn't take long to figure out who the teachers were. They were the young ladies with the big, genuine smiles reaching from ear to ear sweetly greeting each little boy and girl as they entered the room. Elijah actually has two teachers - they alternate days in order to spend more time at home with their families. Pretty cool, I thought.

While Elijah and his mommy began the Scavenger Hunt to get acclimated to the room, I began reading some of the material left for the parents. I was ecstatic to see that both teachers remarked that they had been praying for each of their students.

It's going to be a great year!

As I watched Elijah move around the room, finding his seat, checking out the different centers to learn and play in, I rushed back 30-something years ago to my days in Kindergarten. What an exciting time. I felt all grown up...and it's amazing how much I remember from so long ago. Some of the things I remember...

- Sadly, I don't remember much about my first day of school. I DO remember mom wanting to walk me into the room and trying to hang around for a long time...and I remember turning around and telling her she needed to leave.

-Carla Beggs was a 5th grader who went to the same church I did. She was a "Courtesy Girl" - a group of girls that would hold the doors open for students in the morning. My mom always dropped me off at her door...and when I would walk into school she would hold the door open for me and kiss me on the cheek. Technically, I guess that was my first crush.

-At nap time, me and a kid named Chris Johnson used to thump spitwads at each other instead of sleeping. One day, we were evidently causing too much commotion...and our teacher came over and smacked Chris on the bottom. I instantly squeezed my eyes shut and played possum...fully expecting to get whacked as well. But it never happened.

-My teacher was Ms LaGrone. Not exactly the name you expect from a Kindergarten teacher. She was about 130 years old and retired after that school year. I guess I was enough to make any teacher quit.

-I got carted off to the office one day with Ross Bonnett and Sam Gandee. I can't remember why we were there...but I remember Ross crying and crying because he just new we were going to get a whoopin'. About the time Ms LaGrone corralled us all in there, the Principal, Mr Bryant, was taking two fifth graders into his office. They had been in a fight and looked pretty rough. About the time Ms LaGrone turned to leave, you could hear four sharp WHACKS come from the office followed by some sniffling and muffled crying. Mr Bryant, who seemed like he was 8-ft tall, came waltzing out of his office, crouched down to eye-level with all three of us, and said, "Am I gonna have to do that to one of you...or can I expect you to behave." Ross just kept crying while Sam and I vigorously shook our heads and said, "Yes sir" in unison.

There were a bunch of other things I remember...but I won't bog you down with those now.

I just check the Vegas odds on how Tuesday morning will go. Here they are:

2-1: Only Mommy will cry when dropping off Elijah
30-1: Only Elijah will cry when being dropped off
100-1: Only Daddy will cry when dropping off Elijah
150-1: Mommy and Daddy will both cry when dropping off Elijah
18-1: Elijah and Mommy will cry
33-1: Elijah and Daddy will cry
488-1: Elijah, Mommy and Daddy all will cry
1-1: Daddy will remain the rock of the family...until he gets to a nice, quiet place where no one is watching...and then he might just get a little misty-eyed.

Place your bets!!!

Happy Anniversary

2006-08-13T21:44:00.000-06:00

I've submitted the argument on more than one occasion that I have the greatest wife in the entire world. The reasons for this are many...and I'll expound further on some of them another time.

Today, however, I'd like to extol the greatness of my wife when it comes to our anniversary. On August 8th, Robin and I celebrated 14 years of wedded bliss. The fact that she has hung around a dork like me for fourteen years qualifies her for sainthood...but that's not the only reason I think she's the greatest.

When I ask Robin what she wants for her anniversary (or for ANY occasion) she gives me an honest answer...and that answer is usually, "Nothing." Granted, I know "nothing" doesn't mean "absolutely nothing"...but it does mean, "Please don't burst a blood vessel trying to come up with something fancy."

So I was driving back from Austin the day of my anniversary...and on my way out of town I passed an Einstein's Bagels. Now when Robin and I lived in Plano, we went to Einstein's every Saturday morning. We would get a bagel and coffee, read the paper, and visit for hours. So while I was thrown back in time ten years, I swung off the highway and dove into Einstein's. Seeing that we were celebrating our 14-year anniversary, I selected 14 bagels. When I told the lady behind the counter why I wanted 14, she shot me a quizzical, almost disgusted look. She was not impressed with my anniversary gift.

I made the 3-1/2 hour drive home, hit the back door, and proudly proclaimed "Happy Anniversary" and delivered my gift. Robin was thrilled, promptly digging around to make sure I got her at least one Chocolate Chip bagel (which I did!).

Now...ANOTHER reason I have the greatest wife in the world is she is also a clever gift giver. That morning, she happened to be school supply shopping for Elijah. They were in a section that had folders as far as the eye could see...and while Elijah was digging for a Superman folder, Robin happened upon the perfect gift for me.

So after securing the Chocolate Chip bagel, Robin promptly handed me the sack with my gift in it. I removed the gift from the sack and was thrilled to see my new AC/DC folder (if either of you don't remember, I'm very much an 80's metal head, and AC/DC is one of my favorites).

I looked at the folder and recognized that it was the cover of AC/DC album with...shall we say...and uncomfortable title. And sure enough, there at the bottom of the folder was the title of the album.

"Ballbreaker"

Two thoughts shot through my head:
(1) What exactly is she trying to say? (she claims she didn't see the title until after she left the store).
(2) What the heck was this folder doing in the school supply section of Wal-Mart?

A GREAT DAY IN AMERICAN HISTORY

2006-08-01T21:54:00.000-06:00

First of all, I apologize to both of you who have been anxiously awaiting my next post. Since I work in the world of Academia, I'd like to say I've been on a "sabbatical." However...since I'm not on faculty, nor do I have a Masters or a PhD, that excuse doesn't hold much consistency.

So let's just say I've been immensely lazy.

Now that that's out of the way, allow me to extol the greatness of August 1st in the annals of history. No, there were no great mysteries solved on this date, nor did scientists find a cure for a devastating disease. No great battles were fought, and no holidays were created.

But 25 years ago today, MTV hit the airways!

Now for those of you who don't remember, MTV used to play a thing called "music videos." I think you can still see a music video every once in a while...but to be honest, I haven't seen one in years!

Anyhow, my family didn't have cable television...so I was forced to wander down the street to Gray Bullis' house to get my MTV fix. In between games of "horse" and a variety of Atari-related video games, we would drift into the living room and take in a little MTV. Admittedly, there would've been much healthier ways for me to spend a Saturday afternoon...but a young boy in the midst of the mystery of pubescence just seems drawn to things like that.

So...in honor of MTV's 25th birthday, I'd like to pay homage to my 10 favorite videos of all time:

10. "Take On Me" (A-ha) -- One of the greatest one-hit wonders in history also made one of the coolest videos in history, dragging an unwitting lady into the lead singer's getaway saga in a comic book. Neat...but the end was a little weird.
9. "Hot For Teacher" (Van Halen) -- In the mid-80s, ANYTHING containing David Lee Roth was cool...and EVERY Van Halen video had something interesting. For obvious reasons, Gray always found this to be an entertaining video. I insisted on going to the other room to pray for him when this was on.
8. "Magic" (The Cars) -- The creepiest lookin' dude in rock'n'roll (Ric Ocasek) outdoes himself in this one. I can best describe this video as the way one of the gospel writers would have told the story of Jesus walking on the water...had the gospel writer been tripping on acid!!!
7. "Walk This Way" (Run D.M.C. w/Aerosmith) -- I guess this was the original crossover of rap into rock'n'roll (and no, Blondie's "Rapture" doesn't count!). The song is okay...but the video is especially entertaining...specifically because all of the participants look so uncomfortable with each other. I'm sure he made good money on it, but Steven Tyler and Joe Perry just don't look happy about having three guys from Hollis, Queens, giving their song an urban sound. Conversely, Run D.M.C. doesn't seem all-too comfortable being around these two long-haired old men...especially at the end of the song, when Steven Tyler starts some spastic looking dance and tries to rap his arms around DJ Run and D.M.C. Funny!
6. "Shiny Happy People" (R.E.M.) -- The boys from Athens, GA, don't look like your average rock band. There isn't one of them that is especially sexy or even attractive...and so they capitalize on that by being goofy. To film "Shiny Happy People," they stood out on a street corner and asked random passers-by if they wanted to be in a video. Then they taught them this quirky dance, filmed it...and VOILA! A great video. And don't overlook the great Kate Pierson of the B-52's lending her beautiful voice and face to the performance as well.
5. "I've Got My Mind Set On You" (George Harrison) -- My favorite Beatle uses a wide array of inanimate objects to help him sing this great song. I especially enjoy the bobbing parakeet.
4. "You Might Think" (The Cars) -- Yet another creepy offering from the Jeff Goldblum of 80s rock. Rick Ocasek goes so far as to become a fly just to be around this poor, tortured female soul...eventually running over her in a car.
3. "Like A Virgin" (Madonna) -- I guess this means I'll need to respond to the invitation on Sunday.
2. "We're Not Gonna Take It" (Twisted Sister") - The annoying ROTC Patton-wannabe from "Animal House" takes all out abuse from the cross-dressing metal heads in this anthem advising kids to listen to their music as loud as they want.

And number one...

1. "Oh Sherry" (Steve Perry) -- I know what you're thinking...but I loved this video. More than that....I was in love with Sherry. I have no idea who the girl was...all I knew was that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen....and she was hanging out with Steve Perry?!?!?!? It just goes to show you that if you can sing, beautiful women fall all over you!

Honorable mention goes out to "Money For Nothing" (Dire Straits); "Too Young To Fall In Love" (Motley Crue); "Raspberry Beret" (Prince...or whatever he's calling himself these days); and "Metro" (Berlin).

That's all I got. Yes, I'm well aware that I listed no Michael Jackson songs on my countdown...but you may feel free to list him on yours.

It's good to be back...

Guaranteed To Make You Wince

2006-05-30T10:28:00.000-06:00

Note: The following entry is rated PG-13 due to violence and adult themes. Readers discretion is advised.

I might lose my blogging priviliges as a result of this post...but Elijah mentioned this today, and Robin suggested it might make a good blog entry. And since she NEVER reads my blog, the fact that she actually mentioned my blog thrilled me. So hear it goes!

When I took this job at ACU, Robin, Elijah and Noah stayed behind in Howe to sell our house. Well...we sold our house quicker than we thought we would...and we hadn't yet found a house in Abilene. So we were forced to take drastic measures...and we moved into the University Park Apartments (a.k.a. "UP") on the ACU campus.

For those of you not familiar with these apartments they are TINY!!! There's barely enough room for a single person to maneuver around in them...much less a Mommy, a Daddy, a soon-to-be-three year old, and a curious 8-month old.

But we managed. And Elijah still fondly remembers the three months we spent living there. Mostly because it was a great place to trick-or-treat during Halloween...AND there was always a college student or two that would kick the soccer ball back and forth to him.

However, it was also the scene of his most traumatic experience in the 5-1/2 years that he has walked upon this earth.

At the time we moved to Abilene Elijah was finishing the potty-training experience. Truth be told, he was an absolute breeze to potty-train...and to this date has still not had one single accident (I attribute that to my being married to one of the best mothers in history!). And early on he insisted on doing everything by himself...to which his mother and I HAPPILY agreed.

One nice thing about living in UP was that I could walk to work. So I woke up one morning, spent some time in our cramped quarters with my family, then began my journey across campus to my office. About the time I reached the door to my office my cell phone rang. Before I could say "hello" I heard a cry like I had never heard before on the other end of the phone.

"Oh Daddy," came Robin's pitiful voice, "we've had a terrible accident. Elijah needs to talk to you."

I wasn't too concerned...as the tone in Robin's voice caused me to think that Elijah had lost a toy or had his first potty-training accident. But NOTHING could prepare me for the story I was about to hear.

"DADDY!!!!" came the voice of my screaming child on the other end of the phone. "I go potty and.....WHAAAAAA!!!!!!" Elijah dropped the phone, and I waited patiently for either he or his mother to pick up the phone to tell me what was going on.

After a few seconds Robin retrieved the phone with Elijah still wailing in the background.

"What is that all about," I asked?

Robin, starting to giggle slightly, began to explain. "Elijah wanted to tee-tee by himself this morning. So I let him."

Her giggle has now turned into a laugh.

"Okay," I said. "So why is he crying while you're laughing?"

"Well," she continued, "he was in there by himself using the potty. Then I heard the lid close...and that's when he started crying." She was still trying to hold in her laughter as I came to the horrific realization of what had happened.

Yes...the toilet had attacked my son.

While Robin is giggling uncontrollably, I, on the other hand, found this to be no laughing matter. Instead, I had turned loose of the phone and, empathizing with my first-born, was protecting myself from suffering the fate that had befallen him. My face began to contort and grimace as I pictured, in slow motion (and in technicolor!) what had transpired. I began to envision years of surgery, therapy and other procedures necessary to help a young man through a harrowing, traumatizing experience.

I then thought of what neighbors, friends, and family would say. I thought of myself walking across campus amidst the stares of students, faculty and staff. Oh, how they would shake their heads, point their condemning fingers, and say, "There he goes. He's the man that was so insensitive as to allow his son to be attacked my a toilet. And his poor son - he'll never be the same."

Oh...the shame and scorn I had brought upon the family.

I was jolted back to reality by my wife's resumed giggling.

"How can you laugh about this," I screamed into the phone! "You are heartless!" I then went into a diatribe attempting to rival this pain with that of childbirth...but I don't think I made a very convincing argument.

I quickly ran home to console my son seeing that his mother's rabid insensitivity was making things worse. I hit the door and Elijah was still crying. He was naked and curled up on the floor...with a bag of ice resting on his "area."

"Let Daddy see," I said calmly. But in reality I didn't WANT to see. I would compare it to watching a Friday the 13th movie when you know that someone is about to catch an axe in the forehead...and you cover your eyes with your hands, yet you spread the ring finger and pinkie apart far enough to see...because you rationalize that if you look at it in this fashion it won't be near as gross.

Well...I'll spare both of you the details...but it was obvious that Elijah's manhood (or boyhood as the case may be) had suffered severe blunt force trauma. He managed to waddle to the couch like a Cowboy who had ridden the Log Ride at Six Flags one too many times and continued to apply his ice treatment. His mother, finally penitent of her insensitivity, brought him a popsicle and turned on Bear In The Big Blue House. So things in the house began to return to normal.

Although...I must admit that I walked to work a little slower and awkwardly that day. And Elijah still stands a little farther away from the toilet than we'd like.

But wouldn't you???

The Evolution of Teeth

2006-05-24T08:18:00.000-06:00

Well...it's finally happened. Young Jacob Martin Campbell has successfully cut his first tooth. I wish I had a picture of the tooth to show you...but the kid won't let me pry his mouth open to take a picture of it (so I found the next best picture). But trust me -- the tooth is there. Just ask his mother!

While seeing baby's first tooth is a monumental occasion that folks love to talk about, people often forget the misery associated with it. Now I'm no doctor...but it just doesn't make a lick of sense to me as to why a kid would run a fever, get a snotty nose, create miraculous bowel artistry, and become downright unpleasant during this process. (If either of you can help explain this I'd love to hear it!)

Anyhow, Robin and I have been attempting to split night time duty caring for this uncomfortable little character during his time of need. However it always seems that he's WIDE awake during my watch. Take, for example, last night's extravaganza (actually, it would be more accurate to say "this morning's extravaganza").

I hear the dulcet tones of daddy's little boy emitting from his bed at 3:30 this morning. I picked him up and could instantly tell this would be a long process. He was burning up and couldn't breathe at all. So I administered some of Wal-Mart's finest fever reducer, attacked him with that nose syringe thing (sorry - don't know the technical term for it), plopped down with him on the couch, and searched the channels for our favorite early morning infomercial.

One hour later I'm still watching speed boat racing on ESPN2...and Jacob is wiggly, fussy, and loud. So I grabbed a hat, put on a t-shirt and my shoes (already had on shorts), grabbed the handy-dandy umbrella stroller, and set out on a neighborhood stroll feeling confident that Jacob would be asleep shortly.

Uh....no.

Off we went. Strangely enough, there are a few people out at 4:30 in the morning. Donut shop owners, newspaper delivery guys (the dude almost hit me!), convenience store workers, and old folks walking their dogs. Well, I saw 'em all this morning. And I'm sure they were all thinking the same thing: "Why's that dude walking his child so early in the morning?" I wish they would stop and ask me that question personally...at which point I would have made an appointment with them to drop the Teething Wonder off at their house the following evening so they can witness, firsthand, the oft-discussed joys of parenting.

So we trudged on...and on...and on. On the first couple of days of Jacob's life, while his mother was enjoying her Morphine Cocktail, I would sing him to sleep by singing "Bad" from U2's "The Unforgettable Fire" album. About 15 minutes into our walk I burst into song, praying that the combination of vibrating asphalt and Bono would send my son off to visit the sandman.

Uh...no.

Instead, he turned his head around and stared at me the whole time. For a brief moment I thought I was Bono himself...even stopping under a streetlight to serenade my youngest son while "on stage." Since that song didn't work I began a tribute of every somewhat-calm U2 song I knew...and none of them did the trick. So I gave up and continued my stroll through the neighborhood.

At the time, I wasn't sure exactly how far I had walked. There's a great website out there where you can map a route that you run or walk (www.mapmyrun.com). So at exactly the 2.21 mile mark into our walk young Jacob's head finally rested against the stroller...and he began to snore. I instantly sprang into an acapella rendition of "The Hallelujah Chorus" and turned my sights toward home. We made the remaining .42 mile journey (I LOVE that website!) back to the house, and I hit the door right at 5:30. I removed my slumbering bundle of misery (uh, I mean joy) from his stroller, and placed him back in his bed. I literally sprinted to my own bed anxious to grab an hour of shut-eye before my alarm went off...only to find that my other two sons were occupying my spot.

So I went to the couch.

Back From A Long Hiatus

2006-05-22T10:19:00.000-06:00

It's been awhile since I've written anything...and there's a couple of reasons for that. First, I haven't had a lot to write that I thought would interest either of y'all. Secondly, I haven't really been in the mood. I guess they call that "Writer's Block"...but since I've never really thought of myself as a "writer," I don't know if that term is applicable.

This past Friday was a sad day for us on the ACU campus. Wayne Miller, who worked over in the First Year program, died after a short battle with Pancreatitis (sp?). (On a side note, as a freshman in college I remember my biology professor saying there was fewer things the human body could encounter that would be more painful than a bout of Pancreatitis...because it literally eats away at the other organs with its digestive enzymes -- YUCK!).

I met Wayne while we were students at ACU. I didn't know him well...though I do remember an evening when he, I, and three other random folks who were void of dates on a Friday night played a rigorous foosball tournament in the basement of the Campus Center. I don't remember much else about the evening...only that we all had a good time being together.

Wayne and I got reacquainted this last Fall as our sons played soccer together. Together he and I would endure one-hour increments of watching a herd of 10 kids follow a ball around the field. Wayne's son, Alex, didn't want to play at first. In fact he hated even coming to practice. I know how agitated and even embarrassed Wayne was at the predicament...to the point that he announced to me they were quitting.

So it was a real joy a couple of weeks later to see Wayne and Alex show up for our Saturday game...and even more of a joy to see the smile on Wayne's face when he saw Alex actually score a goal!

I guess now Wayne will have a "sky box" seat to watch Alex and his other three sons grow up. I don't know why God allows bad things to happen to good people -- as Wayne really was the epitome of "good people." I don't know why four boys and a wife are left to fend for themselves. I can't look at the picture of my three boys on my desk without tearing up at the thought of missing out on their lives. I guess the entire book of "Job" seeks the answer to the question "WHY?"...and in the end we're left with a God that reminds us that He was here in the beginning, He is still here today, and He will be here when the end comes. And that's a pretty reassuring thought.

But maybe it calls us into service as God's people. Today at 6:30PM there will be a memorial service at the University Church of Christ as folks remember Wayne and say their final good-byes. Then 99% of that crowd will go back to their homes and resume their lives. But one family will go home husbandless and fatherless...and one mother will try to pull the weight of two.

So maybe God allows this to happen so that we can put our faith into practice. Maybe a community has the opportunity to help raise four young men and rally behind a mother who is struggling with the same questions that Job had? Maybe...no, DEFINITELY God has a plan, and I need to be open to being apart of it.

Whatever the case, if you're reading this PLEASE lift this family up to the Father in prayer.

Happy Half-Birthday

2006-05-10T08:12:00.000-06:00

For weeks, Elijah has been monitoring the calendar waiting for May 9th to get here so that he could turn 5-1/2. Well, yesterday was the big day (or, should I say, the "half-big" day). So after Robin picked him up from school, I dashed home real quick for a half birthday party. You could tell it was a half-birthday party...as there were no streamers, noise makers or even candles.

But there were the essential ingredients for an effective party: Hats (the same dunce-cap looking things we've been wearing for every birthday the boys have ever had); Presents (Elijah got a Star Wars watch); Cake (some brownie-looking thing with decorative icing. It was a yellowish-orange...and Noah wouldn't eat it because he thought it was cheese!); and Ice Cream.

But not just ANY ice cream...rather, ice cream that took me back in time thirty years! Think back to the day when there was no Marble Slab Creamery. A time when there was no Cold Stone Creamery. And a time when Austin folks hadn't discovered Amy's Ice Cream. Heck, Cookies'n'Cream wasn't even a flavor yet! The fanciest thing you could get was.....NEOPALITAN!!!

I remember LOVING that as a kid. After all, you had chocolate AND vanilla connected together!!! Of course, I also remember having to scrape away the strawberry part...as I would only eat the chocolate and vanilla. And Elijah, laying claim to the fact that he is MY son, did the exact same thing!

So everyone had a good time.

That night, as Elijah was getting ready for bed, he became very quiet -- almost depressed. I asked him what was wrong, and he started crying. After he composed himself, he told me that he was only going to get to see Teacher Michelle (his teacher at Rainbow Bible School) for five more days...and then he wasn't ever going to get to see her again (she lives around the corner from us, but I don't think Elijah knows that).

And more tears started flowing.

Robin and I both had to turn our heads so he wouldn't see us laughing. Granted, we weren't laughing at his crying; rather, we were both laughing because, again, he is MY son...and it sounded like something I would do when I was a little boy.

I sat Elijah down and told him that when I was little, I would do the same thing at the end of the school year. I remember crying and holding on with all my might to Ms LaGrone on the last day of Kindergarten because I didn't think I'd ever get to see her again. It was an embarassing time for my mother, but we still laugh about it today.

"You're ultra-sensitive, just like your daddy," I told him. And, for some reason, that made him feel better.

Anyone Got A Kleenex?!?!?!

2006-04-20T10:09:00.000-06:00

Those who know me well can testify that I'm probably the weepiest guy in America. I'm not ashamed of the fact that it doesn't take much for the tears to start flowing...but it does make for some awkward circumstances.

I was reminded of this fact yesterday...as I was hit with a barrage of sad news in a short span of time. Most notable of these were that one of my favorite students here at ACU is pregnant and the "male donor" wants nothing to do with her, and one of my most favorite people in the world was recently diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease.

So I'm relaying this information to one of my co-workers with my eyes welling up with tears. I apologized, noting once again that I'll cry at anything. And I began to detail some of the things that make me turn into a blubbering mass of tears and tissue.

Texas State Basketball Tournament: I know what you're thinking -- how on earth does a guy cry watching basketball...and girls basketball at that! Well...for years, Robin and I have gone to the girls tournament. In each championship game, there is a winner and a loser...and Robin giggles at me as tears stream down my face as I watch the losing team mourn their loss. The incident that sticks out is when Whiteface lost in the Class A championship game on a last-second shot...and while the winning team (Nazareth, I think) is celebrating, the coach from Whiteface went down the bench, took the face of each of his sobbing players in his hands, and kissed them on the cheek. I absolutely lost it, and, truth-be-told, am tearing up while typing this!

Funerals: Yes, everyone cries at funerals...but I cry at funerals of people I don't even know!!!! People I've never met in person!!! Sad, but true. How I eulogized my grandfather I'll never know!

Movies: Here, for your amusement, are five movies that stick out in my mind as paralyzing me with sorrow (no laughing, please)...

5. "The Champ" -- Boxing movie with Ricky Schroeder and Jon Voigt. This is notable as it's the first movie I remember crying in (Champ dies in his last boxing match)...and I was 8!!!
4. "E.T." -- Watched it not too long ago with Elijah and Noah; both thought it was funny that there daddy was tearing up. Both boys OBVIOUSLY have their mother's sensitivity!
3. "School of Rock" -- Not only is this my most favorite movie of all time, but I cry every time they play their song at the end. No, I have absolutely no idea WHY I'm crying -- I just am!
2. "Dead Man Walking" -- No lie, I cried solid through the last 45-minutes of this movie. I don't necessarily recommend seeing this movie as it's quite disturbing, but it's AWESOME! I actually felt sorry for Sean Penn's character!
1. "Hoosiers" -- I cry in three different parts of this movie each time: A) When Ollie (the short, funny-looking bench warmer) sinks both free throws to win the regional final game; B) When Everett and his dad (Dennis Hopper) have their reunion at the hospital; and C) When Jimmy Chitwood hits the shot at the end and the ensuing celebration takes place.

Honorable mention goes out to "Steel Magnolias," "Fried Green Tomatoes," "Dad," "Phenomenon," and any other movie that has a funeral scene.

Points to Ponder

2006-04-17T16:18:00.000-06:00

Random thoughts while pondering the whereabouts of Alex Winter (Bill from "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure" fame...I don't think he has worked much lately).
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It is indisputable that I am the more immature member of the Campbell couple. That being said, I was relieved to come home one day to find Robin giggling to herself while looking through Elijah's backpack. Elijah had brought home a drawing of the solar system, and his teacher helped him label all the planets. While going over each of the planets, Robin found it especially funny to say to Elijah, "Look, Elijah, there's Uranus." Truth be told, I even giggled while typing this.
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Have you ever driven the portion of I-10 in between Kerrville and Junction? I love that portion of interstate because the speed limit is 75. But the road looks like a Civil War battlefield! I've never seen so many carcasses in my life. Just had to share...
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Drove to San Antonio last weekend for an alumni event. On the way I saw five ladies on the shoulder of the freeway waving frantically to traffic. I pulled over to see what was going on. Before I could throw my truck into reverse, all five ladies (none of them younger than 55) began sprinting (a relative term) towards my truck.

"Thank God you stopped. We have a flat tire and none of us knows where the jack is." Granted, I'm an automotive idiot, but I've changed a few tires in my lifetime...so I was prepared to be the hero. After finding the jack, one of the ladies hunkers down beside me to admire my work. It was obvious to me that while waiting for their "hero" they had decided to visit with another friend -- Jack Daniels. So amidst the fumes of JD, exhaust, and dead deer, I got their tire changed. We said our good-bye's, and I walked towards my truck...when I heard the pitter-patter of shoes running up behind me. I turned to see one of the ladies extending her fist out toward me and asking me, "You want some almonds? They sure are good!" In her other hand was a can of almonds...and she was prepared to offer me some of her goods.

I declined...and made my way quickly on down the road.
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Stopped in a Dairy Queen in Schulenburg, TX (can anyone tell me what Schulenburg's mascot is?). Ordered a Peanut Buttercup Blizzard (nothing better) and made my way back to the men's room.

Posted in the bathroom was a sign that read, "If this facility is in need of attendance please notify management."

So I think I'm a funny guy...and I walk back up to the front and ask for the manager. She comes walking out, and I told her, "I was just in the bathroom. And I feel certain that there is no one in there any longer. Therefore, the bathroom is now in need of attendance." I cracked a wry smile at her...but got none in return. So I quickly grabbed my Blizzard and dashed out the door before she called the cast of "Deliverance" to do something with me.
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When did the Easter Bunny start delivering stuff other than candy. Elijah got a set of golf clubs; Noah got a mini-soccer goal; and Jacob (SEVEN MONTH OLD JACOB!!!) got toys out the ying-yang!!! When I was seven months old I didn't get squat!!! And I dang sure didn't get a set of golf clubs for Easter. You know what I got -- EGGS! And not just eggs, but boiled eggs...boiled eggs I had boiled AND colored the night before!!!

These kids today are WAY too pampered!
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Pray for me and Noah...as I did not attend church on Sunday. Noah and I enjoyed a stomach "bug" together, so we stayed home from church (I don't know if Noah's case was any sort of reaction to lipstick being placed in sensitive areas -- I'll get back to you on that).

Granted, I know that the Churches of Christ went to great lengths in my youth to hide the correlation between Easter and the resurrection of Jesus...but I still feel a bit guilty. Guess I'll have to WORK extra hard this week to ensure my salvation.

Never worried...

2006-04-13T08:26:00.000-06:00

...but slightly concerned about my middle son, Noah. Noah is 3, and by all accounts is exhibiting typical middle-child qualities. He's sweet...but in my wife's words, he's "mean as fire!"

Recently Noah has been trying to get in touch with his feminine side. The other day at Rainbow School his class earned pennies for a variety of tasks and by exhibiting good behavior. The kids could then use these pennies to buy various "junk" that parents had brought up to the school for this activity. So what did Noah buy???

A pair of girls shoes and a purse!!!

I don't know if I'm spelling this correctly....but in the words of Mel Brooks: "OY VAY!!!"

Not satisfied with merely accessorizing in a feminine way, Noah has also developed an interest in lipstick. No tube of lipstick is safe if left within his reach. I've attached just a small exhibit of his work. Granted, I've had to censor this picture...as Noah chose to apply the lipstick while in the nude.

Fortunately this wasn't expensive lipstick.

"Know what I wish?"

2006-04-06T21:00:00.000-06:00

That was the question Elijah asked me tonite as we were sitting on the front porch. The front porch is the new "rock-Jacob-to-sleep" spot. We figure he can scream bloody murder out there - that way we can share our joy with our neighbors!

Anyhow, Elijah and I were looking up at the stars, and he found a "wishing star." I think it was Mars that he found...but I didn't have the heart to tell him that there was no such thing as a "wishing PLANET." He asked, "Know what I wish?"

"No, tell me," I said.

"Nope, can't tell you, or you won't get your wish."

Silly me!

"Who makes wishes come true, Daddy?"

Searching for my theologian hat I said, "Well, if it's something you really need, and if you REALLY trust God, then God will answer every prayer."

"YES," came the excited and energetic reply! "Let's pray out here tonite, Daddy."

I felt a tear come to my eye and a lump start to form in my throat...but those quickly transitioned into a giggle as he began his prayer, "Dear God, thank you for Mommy and Daddy, and please send me a chocolate bar every time I eat something good..."

I guess I'll need to work on my explanation of wishes coming true.

It was my turn to pray, but before I could start Elijah asked, "Daddy what do you wish?"

That was easy. "I wish Baby Jacob would pipe down and go to sleep!"

"No really, Daddy, what do you wish?"

So I ran inside and got my Bible and read 3 John 4 -- "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth." I explained to him that both Mommy and I want nothing more in this life than for all three of our boys to love Jesus and do everything He wants them to do."

"That's a good wish, Daddy."

Yeah...I think so, too.

YIKES!!!

2006-04-06T08:37:00.000-06:00

As I've mentioned previously it's been awhile since I've had a good, long sleep. Case in point, I was up this morning at 3:30 entertaining young Jacob. We had a good time...though I would have much preferred to be staring at the back of my eyeballs! He thinks it's especially funny watching his daddy jump rope and lift weights. Come to think of it, pretty much everyone thinks it's funny to watch me jump rope or lift weights.

ANYHOW...the entire family was asleep at 10:30...and I was making that fateful tour of my favorite channels before I went to bed. I stopped on the History Channel...and was both horrified and intrigued by the topic.

They were examining the phenomenon of Spontaneous Human Combustion. And not only were they examining it, but they were detailing four cases of individuals thought to have died in this grisly manner. And whoop-ded-doo, they even showed pictures!!! The most disturbing picture was of two legs connected to what looked like a pile of charcoal ash. Unfortunately this poor lady was sitting in her recliner when her body decided to engage in, what one of the "experts" called, the Human Hiroshima Effect. WOW!!! That's a little insensitive, isn't it?

There were three other instances they reviewed as well...and each came complete with EXTREMELY graphic photos of folks who looked like a marshmallow that got too close to the campfire. All of the folks either smoked at the time of their death or had recently kicked the habit...so there was plenty of room for skepticism. But the "experts" defended their claim that human beings can turn into a fireball with no prior warning.

Now I'm one of the biggest chickens in the world. The list of my fears is long:

Heights
Snakes
Guns
Getting sick in a public restroom (or the restroom of a wealthy person)
Converting an uncontested layup
Being left alone with my three children for long periods of time

...but I think Spontaneous Human Combustion is a load, and I doubt very seriously I'll be lighting up any time soon. But if it happens, you're all welcomed to circle up, warm yourselves by the fire, and sing Kum-Bah-Yah.

However...."Scanners" did creep me out.

Random Thoughts After A Sleepless Night

2006-04-05T09:21:00.000-06:00

Baby Jacob, cute as he is, kept his mother and I up most of the night last night. In fact, I haven't had 4 hours of continuous sleep in more than two weeks. So now, for your reading pleasure, are 10 random thoughts that are, in no way, shape, form or fashion, relevant OR related:

I really like Hillary Duff's song "Beat Of My Heart" -- it reminds of a good 80's techno-song.
Instead of watching the NCAA Championship Game on Monday night, I watched the Stars play the San Jose Sharks on FSN (Stars lost in overtime on a one-timer by former Bruin Joe Thornton).
Reality TV does not interest me in the least.
I've never seen an episode of "Lost."
Molly Ringwald gets way too much credit for her contribution to the 80's -- give me Ally Sheedy!!!
Ameriquest Field (formerly The Ballpark At Arlington) is nice...but I miss ol' Arlington Stadium.
I LOVE "Steel Magnolias."
Why does every barbecue place have to make PEACH cobbler? I HATE peaches!
I don't think Natalie Holloway was killed. I think she passed out on the beach, got washed out with the tide, drowned, and then was eaten by a shark(s).
I don't sing near as well as I think I do.

There -- you may now continue on to a better blog.

A Visit From Soul Force

2006-03-28T14:33:00.000-06:00

When I came back to work for ACU nearly three years ago, I recognized very quickly this was not the same university I graduated from in 1992. The landscape had changed (we actually have trees on campus now!), the student body had changed (barely 60% of our students are from a Church of Christ background), our academics had changed (for the better!), etc.

And society had changed as well.

One can't turn on the radio or television without being inundated by the homosexual agenda. Every sit-com has a homosexual character; the media bombards us with gay rights activists and there neverending quest for equality and acknowledgment of the Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Transgender (LGBT) community.

In 1992, the thought of a group promoting homosexuality on the ACU campus was farthest from my mind. On Monday, the LGBT community made its appearance on the ACU campus. As an employee of the University I won't share much of my personal thoughts of what happened...though I would invite you to read a synopsis of the day's events on the ACU website.

One thing that DID happen was I had an opportunity to spend over an hour visiting with a young lady named Jamie. Each of the "Equality Riders" made themselves available to answer questions and have an open dialogue about anything and everything...so I, along with three other students, took advantage of the opportunity.

Jamie is 28 and hails from Seattle by way of Milwaukee. She works with mentally ill adults in a privately-owned institution. She has a sweet disposition...but seems very sad. Even though she claimed she was happy in the lifestyle she was in, I got the sense that wasn't the case. Maybe it was because she felt like a caged animal at the zoo -- everyone come and look at the lesbian! But maybe she was missing something.

All of the students struggled for questions to ask her...so being the "old guy," I started asking her about growing up in Wisconsin, her experiences in school, her family, and her relationship with God. She was your average American teenage girl -- enjoyed sports, dated boys, and hated school. She had a decent home life, but wasn't real close to either parent. She has one brother who works for the CIA; he's been in Iraq since the beginning. She told us all about the struggle she went through with her sexuality -- trying so hard not to be a lesbian...almost to the point that it killed her.

All of this was interesting...but I was intrigued by her response to my "relationship with God" question.

I had heard that each of the "Equality Riders" were Christians; Jamie was not. In fact, many of them were not. In Jamie's case she has been experimenting with a lot of world religions. What that means I have no idea! But she struggled to share exactly what spirituality meant to her. "I guess if someone wanted to say I was 'acting like a Christian' I would take that as a compliment. Most Christians seem pretty nice -- kinda like you guys," was her only response to Christianity. She enjoyed Chapel -- she thought it was neat that a community of people would get together once a day to praise together.

The group I was with saw that as an open door. I was searching for the right words to witness to her, but I felt inadequate. A couple of the students began chiming in as well -- talking about how much God had done for them. But in the end I felt like Paul talking to King Agrippa. I had so much to say...but I had only a short time.

I and one of the students asked to pray with her...but she said that was kinda weird. So instead I spent time in prayer last night for Jamie.

My New Favorite Team

2006-03-27T08:31:00.000-06:00

Is there anything greater (in the world of sports, that is) than the NCAA Basketball Tournament?

Let me help you answer that question. "NO!"

And the great thing about it is that every year something crazy happens. This year, it's the craziest of the crazy with George Mason advancing all the way to the Final Four as a Number 11 seed!

While that is exciting to me and to basketball fans all over the world...what is MOST exciting to me is who DIDN'T make the Final Four. That would be Dickie V's favorite team (Duke) AND the evil empire from the weirdest city on the planet (Texas).

And who do we have to thank for that? Why, the same team managed to knock both of these pestilences from the face of the basketball earth!!

So let's give a hearty "GEAUX TIGERS" to the bayou bengals from LSU! Thank you for allowing me to see a beaten-down J.J. Redick looking for a place to cry. Thank you for turning P.J. Tucker, the self proclaimed "Punisher" into the punished!

Three cheers for "Big Baby," Darrel Mitchell, and the rest of the gang!

He Said WHAT?!?!?!

2006-03-16T08:30:00.000-06:00

I distinctly remember walking home from school one day when I was in the fourth grade. I was anxious to get home and visit with my dad about my day at school. Something fascinating had happened.

I heard the familiar sound of my dad's Volkswagen Beetle pull up in the driveway, so I dashed to the front door to welcome him. He scarcely had time to do anything before I exclaimed, "Dad I gotta talk to you!" Dad was puzzled by my statement as I very rarely insisted on visiting with dad one-on-one.

We walked back into my room. My dad walked through the door, and I asked him to close it. Instantly his curiosity was peaked...and I could see beads of sweat form on his forehead. He looked at me with inquisitive and nervous eyes.

I was sitting on my bed, both hands clenched as I searched for the right words to begin our conversation...but nothing was coming to mind. So I began simply, "Daddy?" As I spoke my right fist unclenched slightly as one finger...THE finger...extended to it highest position, "What does this mean?"

It was like watching air escape from a large pool toy. My father's face sunk as he now searched his mind for the correct answer. He thought for a moment...then said simply, "Well, it means the same thing as f*** you." Thinking he had handled that well, my father's confidence returned quickly. But victory was snatched quickly from his grasp by my follow-up question. "What does f*** mean?"

For an hour my father and I covered every single detail involving vulgarity, swearing, and sex. You name it - we talked about it. I walked out of that room a new man. I also emerged hoping the day would never come when I had to explain such things to my son.

On Wednesday I was on the phone at work...when the other line rings. I see from the caller ID that Robin is calling me, but I'm not a point where I can get off the phone. Next my cell phone rings. It's Robin again, but I still can't answer. Then my desk phone rings again...and again it's Robin. Thinking that something might be wrong I answer the phone. "You need to talk to your son," she said. I told her I was on the phone and would call her back.

This has happened before...and it usually consists of my oldest son not wanting to clean his room...OR Noah (a.k.a. "Legion") trying to eat his baby brother. I was not the least bit prepared for what I was going to encounter.

Robin answered the phone, and I ask what today's mishap is. I hear the immortal words that no father ever wants to hear: "Do you know what your son said?" Instantly I flashed back to the fourth grade. "Good Lord," I thought. "PLEASE don't let it be the queen mother of all vulgarities." I'm jolted back to reality by my wife's voice.

"Elijah walked up to me and said, 'Where the hell is my hockey stick?'"

Not as bad as I was anticipating, but still something that needed to be addressed. "Here's your son," she said, obviously disgusted by her oldest son's behavior.

I hear lots of crying in the background; the sort of crying that results from spending many minutes in "time out." After I get Elijah calmed down I do my best to explain to him why that's an ugly thing to say. I'm then forced to put on my detective hat.

"Where did you hear that," I asked? All of a sudden I realized I wasn't prepared for an answer. "What if he heard me say that," I wondered? Granted, I've been known to play a PG-rated round of golf or game of basketball...but I've never said anything like that in front of my kids.

Or have I?

"I don't know," came the reply.

"Well," I began, choosing my words carefully, "you've never heard DADDY say that, have you?" The pause on the other end of the line seemed to last for an eternity.

"No," came the reply. YES!!! VICTORY!!!

But my curiosity was peaked. "What about Mommy?"

"No." I'm relieved by that answer as well...although an affirmative response to that questions would have proved EXTREMELY entertaining.

After minutes of interrogation and going through our entire family tree, I came to the conclusion that Elijah must have heard it on TV and figured it was just another way to emphasize a question.

So I've cleared yet another parenting hurdle...and I've began working on a script for the "where do babies come from" question.

Man's Worst Fear

2006-03-15T10:46:00.000-06:00

Warning: The following is rated PG for adult subject matter. Reader discretion is advised.

Admittedly, I fear many things. I refuse to go swimming in the ocean for fear of getting eaten by a shark. The idea of getting on a boat of any kind makes me nauseous. I am terrified of snakes. Though I'm a seasoned traveler, I pray fervrently every time I board a plane and recite Psalms 23 during every takeoff. I believe in ghosts...and while I'm not afraid of them, I can make myself sick over the anxiety of possibly encountering one (remind me to tell you about my encounter some time -- and no, it's not a "ghost story").

While I, personally, fear all of those things...there is one fear that every single one of us bears in common. It's the fear of something so heinous, so unpredictable, and so terrifying that we dare not speak about it in public. While it has never happened to me, I was on-hand to witness this unfortunate set of circumstances as it preyed upon one of my co-workers. This person shall remain anonymous to save him from the guilt, ridicule and shame that accompanies such misfortune. Instead, I shall refer to him as "D.P."

Aaron Burtch, DP and I were in Houston for ACU recruiting purposes. Instead of staying in a hotel on our Houston visits, we are privileged to stay in the home of one of our trustees, Mojo & Holly Lewis. Mojo is a world-renowned cosmetic dentist, and his home is immaculate. While there, Aaron, DP and I are given free reign of their upstairs. Each bedroom has its own bathroom, so we rarely see each other until it's time for us to depart on our next mission.

On our first morning, both Aaron and I were downstairs in the kitchen visiting with Holly over breakfast. David had disappeared upstairs to shower and finish getting ready. As we're visiting Aaron notices that a box of cereal that is sitting on the bar has slowly started to move...as though it were drifting at sea. Intrigued by this phenomenon, Aaron starts moving toward the bar to get a closer look...when he notices that the cereal box is, in fact, drifting on a small pool of water.

He quickly realized the water is not from a spill on the bar. Instead, the water has dripped through the light fixture hanging from the ceiling...a light fixture that happened to be directly beneath the room that DP is staying in.

I sprint up the stairs and knock on the door to the room that Pittman is in (oops, I mean "DP). No response. I knock again. Still no response. Thinking he might be in the shower I open the door...and I'm greeted by a horrific sight.

A frantic (and naked) DP, holding several towels, is staring in disbelief at the toilet in his bathroom. I quickly assess the situation, but DP's sorrow-filled proclamation confirms my fears: "I overflowed the Lewis' toilet." (A more accurate term would have been "clogged," but that is a detail better left for another time.)

I turn to go back out the door when I hear Holly and Aaron coming up the stairs. Holly, remarkably calm at the fact that her guests are flooding her kitchen, asks, "Is it the shower?" I cast a glance of despair towards Aaron. His face sinks, and he plugs his ears with his fingers as I solemnly reply, "Uh, no."

Holly wheels and returns to the kitchen anxiously searching for antiseptic. I call to the fleeing Holly, "We'll need a plunger," as Aaron and I both return to see if we can be of any assistance to David (oops, I mean DP). He is now down on all fours desperately trying to keep the tsunami he has created from reaching the carpet. Aaron and I sit there dumbfounded, overcome by both the situation and the resulting "aroma."

Moments later there's a knock on the door. Holly has returned with both a plunger and a laundry basket. We pass these materials onto DP and quickly exit the room to help with the downstairs clean-up process.

It's at this moment that Aaron and I realize we are running extremely late for our appointment...and DP is nowhere near being ready. Holly, overhearing our exchange, says, "Tell David to give me the towels, and I'll finish cleaning up down here."

God INSTANTLY vaulted Holly Lewis to the highest ring of Heaven. This woman was volunteering to clean the soiled linens resulting from a clogged toilet. About 10 minutes later a fully dressed DP emerges with a large laundry basket filled to the brim with "gross" towels. Holly, the mother of 5, grabs the towels from David without thinking twice and tells us to hurry on our way.

Needless to say for the next two nights that we were at the Lewis' all three of us made the trek down to the local convenience store when Nature called.

Age

2006-03-14T08:59:00.000-06:00

Elijah has this fascination right now with age. The moment he sees someone he proudly volunteers, "I'm five...but I'll be five and a half in May." If the conversation were to stop right there it wouldn't be so uncomfortable...except that he quickly transitions in wanting to know how old the other person is. I've tried to explain to him that not everyone is as giddy as he is about his age.

The other day he asked me when I was going to be 40. Thinking this was a great opportunity to work on subtraction, I helped him work through figuring out how long it will be until his 36-year old dad will be 40. He did a great job...and then proudly proclaimed, "Daddy, in 4 years you will be Over The Hill!"

WHAT!?!?!?! Where did that come from?!?!?! While I did get a chuckle about that, I encouraged Elijah to not inform other people that he meets that they are over the hill.

THEN...last week Elijah and I were driving to the grocery store, and we saw Rita Harrell walking. If you don't know Rita, then you are missing out on one of the truly special people that walks God's earth. She works down in the Volunteer Center here at ACU. Her husband has been suffering with Alzheimer's for many years, and she has cared for him tirelessly.

In addition to this she's an avid walker...and that's where Elijah and I saw her. I waived to her as we drove by, and she waived back. So Elijah asked, "Who is that?" I told him who she was...and his next question was, "How old is she?"

"Well, I'm not sure," I said. "She has a son my age, so I guess she's about grandma's age."

Elijah, fully cognizant that Grandma is 62, exclaimed, "Wow, she's old...but she's very pretty." So I took the opportunity to share that with Rita yesterday...the "pretty" part, not the "old" part.

So if you ever need some brutally honest reaffirmation give me a call. I'll be happy to hook you up with my 5-year old.

Moments of Minutia...

2006-03-13T11:06:00.000-06:00

...because I haven't written in FOREVER!!!
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Once again, I made a fateful late night trip through the channels before going to bed...and another great movie from the '80s was on. I was pleased to see that the Sci-Fi Channel had chosen to spare us another gore-fest, and opted for the greatness of "TRON." Man, I LOVED that movie!!! Granted, with today's animation and special effects it's a wee-bit outdated...but it's also a bit prophetic with some of its messages.

It also rasied the question: How did folks survive without Windows?
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A new ice cream place opened up near the ACU campus a few weeks back. It's called "Third Rock," and it's WONDERFUL! It really gives our local Cold Stone Creamery a run for its money. Best of all, they have some great music and videos playing inside the place.

I took Elijah and Noah to get ice cream after Bible Class on Wednesday...and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" had just started. So instead of getting in the truck and driving back home, I introduced my two oldest sons to one of the great movies of our time (and yes, this was a censored version of the movie)...including the great line, "I asked for a car, I got a computer."

Elijah especially liked the part when Cameron is wrestling with the proposition of going to pick Ferris up: "He'll keep calling me; he'll keep calling...uh...that's it! I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go! S***! G*******!" Fortunately, this was censored appropriately...but unfortunately I think Elijah saw the similarity between Cameron and his father.
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It's Spring Break here on campus for the students. Gee, I wish I still got one of those!!!!!
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Thursday at 10:00AM begins the greatest three week span in sports. 65 teams will be battling it out for the 2006 NCAA Basketball championship...and as long as it's not Duke or UT I'll be a happy guy. More on that in the coming days.
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In two weeks, a group known as Soul Force will be making a stop on the ACU campus. If you want to read more about this group you can check out their "Equality Ride" website. This is not the proper forum for me to discuss my views on what is going to happen on this campus. All I ask is that you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE pray for our students, for our administration, and for the members of Soul Force that will be here to visit with our student body.

That's all I got!

I Love Lectureship

2006-02-21T09:27:00.000-06:00

For those of you who have never been to or even heard of Lectureship, it is quite possibly the greatest thing that happens on the campus of ACU. I don't get nearly enough of an opportunity to hear all of the fine discussions that take place each year in February (now being moved to September)...but I have gotten to hear a couple of life-changing things. So here are some fairly random thoughts on a couple of lectures I've heard:

The Woman at the Well
David Fleer from Rochester College had an interesting sermon on John 4 (the woman at the well) last night. Two things that he said that are resonating through my simple mind this morning: (1) Jesus' response to the woman's "worship war" question: "A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks." (2)While the woman was off evangelizing to her entire community (gee, our women allowed to do that?!?!?!), the apostles (who happen to be men) are more concerned about eating.

Listening to his complete talk would be well worth the investment of time and money. And on a completely different note...the guy sounds like a cross between George Carlin and Mr. Hand from "Fast Times At Ridgmont High!"

U2 And The Psalms
That is, by far, the coolest title for a lecture that I had ever seen...so I HAD to make a trip over to the Campus Center on Sunday night to check this out. It's been over 18 years since I beheld the greatness of U2 live and in-person...but this was just as exciting and invigorating as the concert I saw in the Tarrant County Convention Center in the Fall of 1987.

Greg Stevenson, a Bible Professor also from Rochester College, presented a lecture that made me look at the Psalms and their place in worship in a new way. He also used a recorded U2 performance to exemplify his points. To top the evening off, a local ACU band, Homer Hiccolm and The Rocketboys, covered six U2 songs. The crowd was decisively young in nature -- I'd say 80% of the group were students. But I did see a few 30-somethings in the crowd...so I felt a little better about being there.

Granted, I can't do Bro Stevenson's lecture justice...but I'll try to give my version of a couple of the points he made.

If you take a trip through our hymnals very rarely will you find any song that would qualify as a "lament." Meanwhile, the "Book of Psalms" is FULL of laments from David...with the overriding theme encompassed in a two word question: "How long?" How long must Your enemies be triumphant? How long must we sing this song of sadness? How long must we wait for your return?

As a Christian there will be times to lament. However, being a Christian does not mean being full of lamentation. Rather being a Christian means that a psalm of lament can be answered by psalms of praise.

It was at this point in the evening that Stevenson played a portion of a concert. The first song he played was "Bad" (my favorite song of all times, by the way -- I looked silly with tears streaming down my face surrounded by a bunch of college kids!)...a song lamenting the drug-overdose death of a friend of the band. As the song "Bad" draws to a close, Bono begins to sing the chorus to "40" -- U2's rendition of Psalms 40:1-3. The words repeat over and over: "How long to sing this song?!" Staying true to form, the crowd quickly joins in and sings along...while the music becomes still." From there, the familiar intro of "Where The Streets Have No Name" begins. A song that once referred to the band's trip to Ethiopia is now often interpreted to be a song about Heaven. Bono recites the first 4 verses of Psalm 116: " I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live. The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came upon me; I was overcome by trouble and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the LORD: "O LORD, save me!" So a song of lament is followed by a song of praise.

Growing up "in the Church," I have been taught that it's not a wise thing to make your laments known to God. God is to be praised -- not whined to.

So I thank Stevenson for the new and Biblically sound perspective. Pretty cool.

Mike Cope is speaking this evening...so I'm sure seats will be hard to come by.

Basketball, Jesus, and My Family

2006-02-13T17:08:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, the congregation I attend here in Abilene (University Church of Christ) opened its Ministry Activity Center. We in the Churches of Christ still seem to be afraid of the word "gym," so we select creative names that allow us to identify things with cool-sounding acronyms. Thus, we now have the MAC! And it IS much more than a gym (four classrooms, a huge kitchen, great A/V setup)...but it's still funny to bring up the subject.

ANYHOW...I got a chance to play a little ball there this past Sunday night as our class had free reign of the place for a couple of hours. It's amazing how a simple game like basketball can draw folks in. That same night I had an opportunity to meet 4 gentlemen I had never met before. Each of them is "seeking" something; hopefully God will empower us to help them find IT/HIM.

It also gave me a moment to reflect on how basketball has influenced my family.

My father-in-law came to know Christ due, in large part, to basketball. He was living in the thriving metropolis of Howe, TX, with his wife, his son and his baby daughter (my wife). He knew some men from work who attended the Church of Christ there in Howe. They were starting a church basketball league, and they invited my father-in-law to join them. He loved basketball and anxiously agreed to play.

All of the families would go to watch the men compete against other congregations from around the area...and Robin's family would go to. The ladies would sit around laughing at their husbands as they longed for the glory days of their youth; meanwhile, the kids would run and play in the stands.

My in-laws didn't know Jesus...but they knew they enjoyed being around these people. So they started going to church with them. When they showed up no one asked them to memorize the "five steps of salvation," their opinion on instrumental music, or what they thought the Holy Spirit's role was in the Trinity. Instead they got to know them. They invited them into their homes. They made them feel welcomed in their church.

Were it not for those men inviting my father-in-law to play ball with them, I would never have met my wife. I would not have the three adorable little boys that Robin and I are privileged to raise. And in reality, I would probably have strayed from the Lord by now.

And it all started with basketball...

Super Bowl Moments

2006-02-09T08:51:00.000-06:00

The mixture of rabid sports fans, indifferent spouses of rabid sports fans, and children creates the potential for mass chaos during a Super Bowl party. It also creates the opportunity for comical moments.

Randy and Chellee Hill were kind enough to have Robin, the kids and I, along with some other families over to their house for the Super Bowl...and following are a couple of the entertaining things that went on...

A "Sandlot" Moment The younger kids were getting bored watching the game and decided they actually wanted to PLAY football. So the disappeared downstairs. A few moments later Macy, Randy's four-year old daughter, yells up to the crowd, "Daddy, we're going to play football outside." Randy responds, "Okay.......hey, wait a minute! Where did you get a football?"

"From your office," came the reply.

"Bring that football up here," Randy howled! A crowd of kids are heard stomping up the stairs with Elijah in the lead holding the prospective entertainment device...a football that just happened to be autographed by Dallas Cowboy legend and Pro Football Hall of Famer Bob Lilly.

So the kids wound up playing "House."
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Man, am I old! Derek Hood's 12-year old daughter was actually interested in the football game...and spent a good amount of time watching the game upstairs with the men. A few minutes before halftime Al Michaels reminds the viewing audience to stay tuned for The Rolling Stones. To which Derek's daughter asked, "Who are the Rolling Stones."

All of us looked at each other with the painful realization that we were quickly ascending the ladder of old age. No one even bothered to explain who The Rolling Stones were...as we were busy searching for our false teeth and Metamucil.

Once halftime started our young 12-year old audience member was still perplexed. However she finally realized she knew exactly who The Rolling Stones were. As the familiar guitar riff of "Satisfaction" cranked up, she jumped up from the couch, pointed at the TV, smiled at all of us and cheerfully exclaimed, "I know them -- that's my ring tone!"
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Indifference at its peak. There are 6 minutes left in the fourth quarter. The Steelers are up by 11, overcoming a halftime deficit on Willie Parker's record-setting 75-yard run on the second play of the third quarter...and Antwan Randal-El's touchdown pass to Hines Ward. Excitement is brewing as Seattle is mounting a drive down the field.

I run downstairs to throw some trash away. Circled around the dinner table are our lovely wives who claim they've been watching the game. There is little evidence to support this...as I start to head back up the stairs, I hear one wife say, "Hey, the Steelers are ahead now."

Birthday Memories

2006-02-02T09:46:00.000-06:00

I'm a couple of days late...so let's just consider this a Belated Birthday Memories List. But here are the 5 greatest birthday memories I have...

5) My First (and only) Birthday Slumber Party, 1978: It's probably not a wise idea to have 10 second grade boys in one house for an entire night. There were no DVD players, no X-Box (although I did have an Atari 2600), or other mass-entertainment apparati (is that a word?). Among the memories from that night are my parents making us play some stupid balloon popping game (which wound up lasting for hours - bad move on their part) and Reginald Stinson wetting his sleeping bag.

4) A Bad Cake Decision, 1976: For 36 years now, my mother has been the model of consistency when it came to birthday cakes. Every year (even the four years I was in college), mom managed to deliver with her WONDERFUL chocolate cake...except for the year 1976. My mother, who was a history teacher, was enamored with the United States' Bicentennial celebration...and assumed her six year old son would be as well. So...instead of baking a chocolate cake that year, I got a crappy red, white, and blue cake...complete with flags, patriotic soldiers, you name it. Heck, if she could've found a white wig and a Thomas Jefferson costume that fit a fat 6-year old, she would've put me in that as well.

3) Special Delivery, 1989: On January 30, 1989, West Texas experienced an ice storm that stretched the length of I-20 all the way to Fort Worth. I was a freshman at ACU, but my parents had planned to come out to help me celebrate my birthday. But with the roads as treacherous as they were, I didn't expect to see them. Lo and behold, on the morning of January 31st, Mom and Dad pulled into the parking lot of Mabee Dorm on the campus of ACU. Mom was driving her Pontiac; Dad was driving my birthday present...a 1985 Dodge Daytona. Boy, did that escalate me to Ladies Man status!

2) Chris Mowry & Joe Tomme, EVERY year I had a birthday party: I mentioned previously that every year, with the exception of 1976, Mom would bake a chocolate cake. No one in the world had a problem with that...except my high-maintenance pal Chris Mowry. He hated chocolate and refused to eat it. So my mother would bake a chocolate cake...and then would make two white cupcakes for Chris Mowry. The other constant during birthday parties was Joe Tomme. While it was a mystery what you were going to get from the other kids, you ALWAYS knew what to expect from Joe: a kite. And not JUST the kite...but a kite wrapped up in the comics from the Sunday newspaper.

1) The Best of All, 2000: It was the day I found out I was going to be a daddy. Robin got me a birthday card that was signed: "Love Robin...and the baby."

Fell free to share your own!

Thirty-six years ago today...

2006-01-31T09:34:00.000-06:00

...an 18-year old girl walked into a small clinic in a run-down part of Fort Worth. Since I never knew her, I can't imagine the thoughts and emotions that day brought for her. Maybe she was an emotional wreck because of what was about to happen. She may have spent a tear-filled night, staying up all hours pondering the decision she was about to make. On the other hand, it may have been an easy decision. She may have been relieved to get rid of the burden she had been carrying around for nine months, and was ready to get back to her normal routine.

Whatever the circumstances were on that day, I am thankful for that lady...because she gave me life.

In fact she gave me life twice. She gave me life when she made the decision to endure her unwed pregnancy and accept any humiliation or embarrassment that being a single, pregnant woman might bring. And then she gave me life when she decided that she wouldn't be able to care for a baby in the way that it deserved to be cared for and gave me up for adoption.

I was raised in a simple home, but I never wanted for anything. I have been blessed with two Godly parents who have done more for me than they will ever know. I have an extended family that is a blessing to be around. I have a wife and three beautiful sons that keep me smile on my face and cause me to marvel at how much one can love someone else.

I don't know who she is, where she is, or what she thinks about each year when this day rolls around. So a shout out to that sweet lady wherever she may be -- and a line from the song Signs: "I'm alive and doin' fine"...and thanks!
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In other random January 31st news:

This could be the greatest day in baseball history...as Nolan Ryan, Jackie Robinson, and Ernie Banks were all born on this day. Me...well, I never made it off the Junior Varsity!

Also a big day in rock'n'roll...as Scott Ian (Anthrax), Phil Collins and K.C. (yes, the Sunshine Band guy) are shaking their bootie to celebrate their birthday along with me.

...Scotch tape first hit stores in 1928
...the U.S. launched its first satellite, Explorer I, in 1958
...in 1992, Howard Cosell announces his retirement.

Gee...pretty boring day.

I LOVE BEING MARRIED!!!

2006-01-30T10:29:00.000-06:00

This is something I probably don't say enough...and I KNOW I don't show and/or tell my wife of 13+ year that enough, either. She's a wonderful mother, LOVES to watch basketball, she's a great kisser, and she enjoys a good dose of Hamburger Helper as much as I do!

I can provide you with several lame excuses as to why I don't communicate this adequately. Most notable is that Robin and I three kids, two of which are EXTREMELY high maintenance...and a third that is well on his way to being so. So we stay pretty busy around our house. There are others...but I won't bore both of you with them.

The reason this topic is on my mind is that this past week I learned of two couples that are my age (that I know!) are splitting up...or at least are on the verge of splitting up. The reason: the husband had to run out and find him a girlfriend.

A quick note to those of you who have wandering eyes and other wandering body parts: If you wanna screw up your own marriage, please choose a different way to do it...because YOU AREN'T DOING THE REST OF US MARRIED GUYS A FAVOR!!! That little seed of suspicion that you plant in the mind of your wives' friends is devastating to those of us who ARE interested in being married and who ARE investing in giving our children the type of home that God intended.

But I do appreciate your jolting reminder that it's my job to ensure that my wife has 100% faith that I am honoring the vows I made on our wedding day. But the help you guys could lend me would be greatly appreciated.

So please, go get some counseling (it's dang-sure less expensive than the attorney fees and child support you're about to pay), take your wife on a date for an evening or a weekend (heck, I'll watch your kids for you -- free of charge!), or have yourself neutered (you're on your own with that one)!

In the meantime let me enjoy my wife and my marriage!

Lessons in Sharing

2006-01-23T16:28:00.000-06:00

While I try to make Elijah and Noah sound like high-maintenance young men (which they are!), there are some very simple things in life that bring considerable joy.

One of those things is going to the mailbox.

Elijah and Noah love to run down to the curb, open our dilapidated black mailbox, and peer inside. They'll thin divide up the loot between them and scamper back up to the house to let Mommy and/or Daddy distribute the mail accordingly. This past week's mail delivery brought little tears to my eyes on two separate occasions...as my boys (once again) taught their father some valuable lessons.

On Monday Elijah got his first magazine. My father-in-law is the world's greatest handyman, and subscribes to a multitude of such periodicals. One of the magazines he subscribes to gave him a free subscription to give to a friend. Knowing how much Elijah likes mail, he signed Elijah up for 12 months of "Handyman Monthly."

When the first issue arrived on Monday, Elijah was ecstatic. He quickly sat down and started looking through all of the pages. He came to a picture of a large, lavish bathtub...the kind his mother has been hounding me for since we were first married. Elijah, knowing how much his mother loves to take baths, told her, "Mommy, I'm going to build this for you." Robin informed him that those cost a lot of money. So Elijah went to his room, got his piggy bank and Spider Man wallet, emptied on the floor in front of Robin and said, "Here, you can use my money to help buy it." (For the record, Elijah is also going to build me a tractor!)

On Saturday, the boys once again went through their routine. This time, Noah returned to the door with a birthday card from "Grandma Mart" (his great-grandmother). Inside the card was $30! When Noah opened the card the money fell to the floor. Noah quickly bent down and picked up the cash - holding a $20 in one hand and a $10 in the other. Then he looked at the money, looked at his brother, handed Elijah the $20 and said, "Here Elijah, I share wid you."

Maybe I'm wrong...but I think this is the sort of thing Jesus had in mind when He said, "Unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

The Longest Day

2006-01-17T10:07:00.000-06:00

Today "little" Noah is three years old. We started the day off with our little family tradition. On the morning of a family member's birthday we ditch the cereal, toast, oatmeal, etc., in favor of cake and ice cream! I'm sure publicizing this will further delay my "Parent of the Year" nomination...but I gotta be me!

As I was waking Noah up this morning I reflected on the day of his birth...January 17, 2003...the day that proved to be the longest day of my life.

Robin and I awoke at 4:00AM in order to be at Wilson N. Jones hospital in Sherman by 6:00. Robin's C-section was scheduled for 8:00...but all that pre-op stuff takes forever. This was to be Robin's second C-section. Robin labored for twelve hours with Elijah before a drastic drop in heart rate (the cord managed to wrap itself around his neck) called for an emergency C-section.

Many of Robin's friends had talked about what a breeze their planned C-sections had been. So while she was still a little nervous about the procedure, there was little apprehension about what was to come.

It was a typical January morning. Cold, but not unbearable. The hospital was eerily quiet, but at least we got to walk right in and get settled. Everything in the pre-op went smoothly, the doctor came by to calm any last-minute fears, we said a prayer together with our family that had gathered, I put on my scrubs and my shower cap, and we were off!

I came into the operating room to the sounds of Elton John (Dr Bost has seen him in concert several times). I'm not a big Elton John fan...but if that's what it takes to get the job done right then I'm on board. I've got the video camera rolling in one hand, and the 35mm ready in the other to help document history. I interviewed Robin, the anesthesiologist, all of the nurses, and even Dr Bost. The mood in the room was jovial...just the way it should be on such an exciting day. The anesthesiologist kept peeking over the curtain (cuz I wasn't about to do that!) to give us a running play-by-play of what was going on...and all the while we were having a good time.

But all of a sudden the room went quiet. The anesthesiologist looked over the curtain again and said, "Okay, you'll feel a little pressure." He then looked at Dr. Bost and the other doctor that was assisting him. They both had a look in their eyes that I didn't like. It's the same kind of panicked look that parents get when their child comes home from school and asks, "What does *$&%& mean?"

I looked at Dr Bost and the other doctor. Both of them had begun to sweat. I looked at the anesthesiologist, and he looked at me...and he knew that I knew something wasn't right. "A little more pressure here," he said, patting me on the back. I looked back over the curtain, and the second doctor has climbed up on the operating table to work on Robin and the baby. Robin senses that something is wrong and asks, "What's going on?"

"Oh, you've got a big baby here," came the reply from the anesthesiologist. "A lot of pressure...but the baby is almost here."

Now I'm not a "the-glass-is-half-empty" kind of guy...I am a "the glass-is-half-empty-and-it's-because-it-has-a-crack-in-it" kind of guy! But for once in my life I try to look at things in a positive light...though there are visions running through my head of what is happening on the other side of that curtain...and none of them are good.

I'm jolted back to reality by the words "it's a boy." But it's not the proud declaration that you see in the movies...where the baby is held up screaming at the top of its lungs. It's more of a matter-of-fact statement as the baby is quickly passed to a nurse and taken to the a table.

I followed the baby and the nurse, keeping the video camera going and snapping a couple of still shots. The nurse has an oxygen mask over my new son's face while she's cleaning him off. "Great, he's got my nose," I remember calling to Robin. I turn to look, and I can see the panic in Robin's eyes...because she doesn't hear any crying. "He's good looking. He's a little bit on the blue side, but at least he's tanner than I am," I joked...hoping it would help brighten the mood.

"I need some help over here!" Those are words you never want to hear a doctor or nurse say...especially when they're working on YOUR wife or YOUR baby. Noah wasn't breathing. A second nurse joins in the effort to get things going. After what seems like an eternity (in reality, it was about 60 seconds), Noah lets out a squeaky whimper. It's not exactly what the nurses are wanting, but it makes Mommy and Daddy feel better.

They rush him off to the nursery, and I turn to check on my wife. They're still working on her...but she appears to be okay. She tells me to got watch the baby.

By the time I get to the nursery they have two I.V.'s in baby Noah's arm, an oxygen helmet around his head, and he's resting inside an incubator. Great -- I can't even hold my son. The family starts gathering outside the room wanting to see the baby...but no one is allowed in. The doctor stops in to share with me everything that has happened. I'll spare you the gorey details, but it has to do with scar tissue and umbilical cords. As he leave he tells me how lucky we are -- a generation ago, both Mother and Baby would have died.

So I sit by Baby Noah's bedside...praying and singing. I ran through every worship song I could think of...so I began to sing the entire U2, REM, and Ramones catalog as well. In between songs and prayers, I would go out and visit with the family and give them updates on how things were going and play with Elijah. Then go back inside the nursery and hang out with my new little buddy

Finally...about 7:30 that evening Noah's vital signs were at the point that they felt comfortable taking him out of his little incubator and helmet. So I got to hold him and love on him. I introduced him to his mother...but she was enjoying her "Dimorol Cocktail" and wasn't able to carry on much of a conversation. Family hung out until 10:00 or so, and then everyone went home. I managed to send out a couple of emails to friends and co-workers letting them know how things were going...and when I looked up it was past midnite. I hadn't eaten all day, and I needed to get out of the hospital. So the nurse came and got the baby.

I drove down the main strip in Sherman and found the only thing opened 12:30 was a Taco Bueno. I went up to the counter and ordered. The lady looked at me (I had forgotten to take off my scrubs) and said, "Wow, you look tired. Must have been a long day at the hospital." It was at that moment that the day's events came at me in full force...and I broke down and sobbed at the counter in Taco Bueno. Poor girl -- I don't think she knew what to think.

Although day one was stressful to say the least, the rest of the days have been a tremendous blessing. And I thank God for my healthy family.

Scales and Memories

2006-01-12T09:10:00.000-06:00

Elijah and I went to the doctor a couple of days ago. He had to get a couple of shots to bring all of his immunizations current. Fortunately this trip to the doctor went much smoother than the last one!

Before administering the vaccination, they measured and weighed Elijah -- forty-eight inches tall; 52 pounds. "That's a pretty good-sized ol' boy," I thought out loud. "Oh, that's pretty average," came the nurse's reply. She could stand to get a little closer to average herself!

ANYHOW...that prompted me to remember a day almost 30 years ago. I was in the first grade at Westcliff elementary School in Ft Worth. My teacher, Mrs Meyers (whom I adored), rolled in a big chalkboard and a scale one day. "We're going to work on averages today," she said. Most of the kids in the class had no idea what an "average" was...but already being a baseball stat nerd, I had a good idea of what that meant.

"One at a time, I want everyone to come up here, and I'm going to weigh you. Then I'll write all the numbers on the board, and we'll add them up together."

My heart instantly sank. I looked around the room and knew this would be a painful exercise for me. You see...I was the fat kid. From the time I was in Kindergarten 'til the time I was in 7th grade, I was always the fattest kid in the room.

The first year I played tackle football (2nd grade) I was absolutely unstoppable. Not because I was a gifted athlete (ask anyone that has ever seen me play ANYTHING, and they can attest to that)... but because I weighed at least 20 pounds more than the other kids. The first year I played soccer, the other kids (and their parents) called me "Truck." In middle school football, they had to get pants from the high school for me to wear. That wouldn't have been so bad...except for the fact that everyone else had white pants, and my pants were BLUE!

I have vivid memories of going to JCPenney to shop for jeans...and searching for size 16-Husky with my mom. I would try them on...and they would be at least 10 inches to long, but the waist would fit. So we would buy them, and mom would hem them up. About every couple of months she would have to let the hem out...so by the time a couple of school years had passed, the legs on my jeans would have several rings around them.

There are other things I could elaborate on, but I won't beat you down with that.

So the weighing process begins. One by one, students walk up to the front of the room, hop on the scale, and Mrs Meyers would write their name and their weight on the board. All the while, students in the room are talking or doing homework.

Then it's my turn...and the room turned instantly quiet. I slowly plodded to the front of the room. It was at that instant that I think Mrs Meyers realized this may not have been such a good idea. I distinctly remember almost a sorrowful look on her face as I prepared to step on the scale. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Every students' eyes were glued to the chalkboard...kinda like people intently watch a horror movie, anxious to see what happens next.

I took my shoes off (because we all know that shoes add at least 10 pounds to your weight) and stepped on. The numbers on the scaled seemed to spin for hours...finally coming to rest just to the east of 80 -- EIGHTY-ONE POUNDS!

With everyone else Mrs Meyers had called out the number...but this time she simply wrote the number on the board. I bent over to put on my shoes as the "8" and the "1" went up beside my name. I didn't want to see the facial expressions of my classmates.

"WHOA!" was the general response...along with a few giggles. I was embarrassed...but not devastated. After all, being the biggest kid in the class meant I could also kick some butt. So no one tore me up too badly.

Later that evening, the phone rang -- it was Mrs Meyers. She called to apologize to my mom and then to me. I hadn't mentioned it to anyone at the house because I didn't think they would care. But it meant a lot to mom and to me to get that phone call.

Dabbling in Randomness

2006-01-10T09:13:00.000-06:00

I attended the National Conference of Youth Ministries this past week in Nashville. I didn't get to see much of the city...nor did I see anyone famous...but I did make one observation. Nashville has more Waffle House restaurants than any city in America! Now I love Waffle House...but are there that many people in Nashville that need therapy?
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Why is it that when your children are on their best behavior there's never anyone around to see it? But when you make a 7:30PM trip to Wal-Mart, and your children feel like they're on a casting call for Dennis The Menace, Part II, you run into EVERYONE you know?!?!?!
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Coaching -- a noble profession. But isn't it strange how the best coaches have never coached a day in their life? Every great basketball coach is sitting in the stands! NONE of them are down on the floor. NONE of them are spending hours upon hours reviewing game film, planning practices, conducting practices, or mentoring kids. It's only the ones who couldn't make it in another profession that have taken up this way of life.
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I absolutely despise the large university that is in Austin, TX...but I firmly believe the nation was treated to the greatest football game in college football history last week. And as great of an athlete as Vince Young is, he IS NOT an NFL quarterback.
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Picture of the day: Elijah and Noah informed me that they're going to be in a rock'n'roll band when they grow up...which I'm sure is a delightful thing for their mother to hear. They've already got their on-stage regalia ready to go. It appears they're going for the grunge, Seattle look.
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I'm trying to read more. So I'm starting off my morning by making my way through the New Testament, then reading something else in the evening. I've been working my way through "Power Of A Praying Parent." As you can tell from the picture, I should probably read that through a few times.
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An announcement was made in church on Sunday that there was to be a special collection taken up to help residents of a nearby town that were affected by a huge wildfire. Half of the money was going to the local Church of Christ -- that congregation was going to use the money to help their members who were affected. The other money was being sent to the Baptist congregation -- they were reaching out to the "unchurched" of the community. Hmmm......where's my WWJD bracelet?
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!

The Best of 2005

2006-01-01T23:29:00.000-06:00

I always thought that my parents were full of it when they would tell me, "You know -- the older you get, the faster time flies."

Well...they're right!

2005 has come and gone...and while most of the year has seemed like a blur, there has been some adventurous, exciting, and momentous happenings this past year. So following are a couple of things that stood out to me in 2005.

ACHS over Sacred Heart: I finally got a chance to fulfill a lifelong dream when Robin invited me to coach with her this year. I think my wife is an outstanding coach...and I got a chance to witness this firsthand as she guided the ACHS girls basketball team to a 20-12 record and a trip to the TAPPS 2A Regional Finals. The pinnacle of that journey was when our girls beat Muenster Sacred Heart. Sacred Heart had won the past seven state championships, and has a tremendous reputation around the state of Texas. So it was an absolute thrill to travel to their gym and beat them by three points.

Illinois over Arizona: Continuing with the basketball theme, I've never seen a basketball game quite as exciting as the NCAA Regional Final between Illinois and Arizona. I think Arizona had a 15-point lead with less than 5 minutes remaining...but Illinois managed to chip away at that lead, send the game into overtime, and earn a trip to the Final Four.

Good-bye to Grandy: After a 10-year battle with cancer, we said good-bye to my grandfather. I grew a lot during the process. I spent time in a hospice unit (what a beautiful spirit the people at All Saints in Fort Worth have); I watched my father care for his father-in-law in a way that words can't describe (my dad is incredible); and I had the opportunity to eulogize a huge part of my childhood.

NCAA Div II Nat'l Track Meet: For two days, some of the greatest athletes in America came to Abilene to compete in the national track and field championships...and I had a front row seat at the finish line. Even though I was technically "working" I spent a considerable amount of time taking in the experience...and being reminded of exactly how slow I really am! The final race (the men's mile relay) was especially exciting as ACU came from behind on the final lap to win.

Hurricane Katrina: Wow! What a devastating experience that was to behold! And not only did it affect me and countless other adults, but it affected my oldest son Elijah. For the first time in his life, Elijah recognized that people were suffering. He knew that kids like him didn't have a house to live in...or toys to play with...or food to eat. How special it is to see the compassionate heart of your children.

Jacob Makes Three: September 12, 2005 is the date that Robin and I were outnumbered. But what a tremendous blessing young Jacob Martin Campbell has been to our family. His brothers love him (a little too much), he's been as healthy as any parent could ask for, and his little smile makes his mother and I so proud. Now if we could just figure out how to pay for his college!

Well...that's just a few of the things that made 2005 special for me. I'm sure 2006 will be full of surprises!