Christmas Day fun with Heelys and Ripsticks

I’m just glad I was the one behind the camera. No shots of my attempts currently exist.

Merry Christmas!

I don’t know how I got out of it, but Carolyn wrote the Christmas letter this year and did a great job! Make sure to tell her! (That way I can get out of more letters in the future.) It’s been a year of growth, learning and discovery. We’re grateful more than ever for friends, family, and most importantly, for the all-gracious presence of our Lord Jesus Christ. He has been our Rock this year in some difficult times.

We are hoping that you too, whoever you are and however you might have stumbled upon this little blog, will seek to discover for yourself the tender might of the God who announced good news of great hope for all people. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Jeff has been blessed by two great gifts (or toys) this year. A good friend gave him his white Honda moped. Everyone loves it! When you fill it up with gas each month for $2.91 you suddenly do not care what people are saying about you. “Ghost,” as he proudly calls it, has been a blessing.

His pride and joy gift from his dad was an Apple iPhone. Sam and Carolyn stood in line for 3 hours on the day it was released. He literally has not put it down since he received it. It has made him proud once again of Apple and all of it products.

Journey Church is still going strong. Jeff’s prayer this year was for Journey to see God work throughout the nations. Prayers have beeen answered. One of Journey’s families surrendered their life to missions and moved to Alaska to be bi-vocational missionaries. Journey has also partnered with a church in India where we have sent them letters, books and even a bicycle. We also have had mission teams travel to Denver to help in the Operation Christmas Child distribution center and to Memphis to help an inner city church with a live nativity.

Once again, God has proved himself faithful. We continue to follow.

Carolyn has enjoyed our travels this year. In February, we all played hooky and spent a week at Walt Disney World. We went the week of the Superbowl so Sam and Jeff got to see Tony Dungee and Dominique Rhodes. That made things smoother when Adelyn and Carolyn drug them to eat at Cinderella’s caste. The week really was ‘magical’.

Jeff and Carolyn also traveled to Washington DC with a group of Monticello leaders. We were honored to be in such company and loved seeing our nation’s finest. This summer Carolyn and a good friend met up at Schlitterbahn in San Antonio, TX. The two crazy friends and SIX children enjoyed every soaked minute of the world’s largest waterpark, and no one drowned or got lost. It was a miracle considering the amount of water and people there! In October, she and a group of ladies from Journey
walked in Race for the Cure in LR. The quantity of people alone was incredible, even so, the quantity of money raised for breast cancer.

Carolyn continues to take photos. She did not get an iPhone this year, but opted for a new camera lens she found more practical!

Sam is ten years old and has had quite a year. In January, he joined the Drew Co. 4-H Shooting Sports Club. He practiced shooting archery, shotgun, 22 &
Muzzleloader twice a month which prepared him for two state competitions that he attended in June and July. Being part of such a great group prepared him for Arkansas Youth Hunt in November. Sam killed his first deer. It was a doe. Although, he didn’t have antlers to show for his hunt he had an incredible experience. He not only killed a deer, he helped skin and clean it, he packaged the meat and we all enjoyed the yummy deer steak dinner he prepared.

Sam is in the 5th grade and on the honor roll. He still enjoys playing baseball and came close several times this season hitting the ball over the fence. He has his own
fantasy football league. He and Jeff spend Sunday afternoons watching football and keeping up with their players’ stats. He is growing into a young man, and we
are very proud of him.

Adelyn is eight years old, and her signature this year is Converse tennis shoes. She is quite the free spirit and we never know how she will be dressed each morning for school. Her claim to fame this year is her role as a little angel in the Arkansas Ballet and Arkansas Symphony Orchestra’s Nutcracker. On a whim in August, she tried out for a part and made it. That experience alone was a great but the whole production is something we all will cherish, even though her time on stage was
only one minute long. Many family and friends were there to see her and she hopes to try out again next year.

She also swam for the Monticello Swim Team this summer where she was awarded, for the second year, “Most Points Swimmer” for her age division. She loves her weekly dance class where she learns tap, jazz and ballet. She has a new love for the piano. Her teacher has started teaching her chords and how to sing along with the music. She is a great student in all areas and we love to watch her grow.

Fantasy league Superbowl Sunday

I’ve been playing fantasy football since 1992. I’m still in that same league with some friends from Ouachita and a few others who have joined in the past 15 years. About nine years ago, I created another league that has guys who were mainly from Monticello, but it too has grown and expanded to include others. Finally, there’s a kids’ league that was created last year, mainly for Sam and some of his friends, and this year, it is just our family and another family, with a total of six teams (1 team for me and another for the other parents and the other four teams for kids).

Long story short… I’m in the Superbowl in the Kids Rock League and in 15 year-old Stink Baby League tomorrow! Also tomorrow, I’m playing for the division championship and the right to represent my division in the Superbowl in the mainly local Weevil League. So three championship games in one Sunday!

Already, the fantasy football gods have sought to smite me. Pittsburgh Steeler running back (and NFL rushing leader at the time) Willie Parker broke his ankle in Thursday night’s game. I owned and started him in two different leagues.

My son Sam and I are both addicted to fantasy football and usually devote our Sunday afternoons during football season to watching the games and keeping track of our stats and scores. (That is, unless I fall asleep on the God Couch).

Most of you won’t be able to appreciate this, but during the last game of the regular season, one of my team’s scored a league record 309 points. As far as I know that would beat any record in any of the three leagues I’m in.

So for all you fantasy coaches out there who are still in your league’s playoffs, good luck! Here’s hoping that this is my year… in more than one league!

Nap times and a God couch

Aaaah. Glorious nap time…

I don’t remember exactly when this sacrosanct experience entered my life as a priority, but I am hooked. Sunday afternoons have become around our house enforced unconsciousness. Our kids are warned to not disturb us.

Usually, we return home from a Sunday lunch out with friends from church, and the race begins. Whoever jumps into comfy clothes first is awarded with the most comfortable napping location. The one place I like least is where I most often end up… our God couch.

Yep. We have a God couch.

You see, a few years ago, Caro and I were in a local furniture store, and she was drooling over one of the couches there. It was beyond our budgetary grasp, so the attendants mopped up the saliva, and we put it out of our minds.

However, a few days later, we were called and informed by the store owner that someone had bought the couch for us! We were stunned. Caro was ecstatic. It has since become known as our God couch, because our generous benefactor still remains somewhat of a mystery. Since Scripture says that “every good and perfect gift comes down from above,” we have simply come to call it our God couch.The only thing about the God couch is that it’s corduroy. Do you know how hard it is to get those parallel lines off your face when you wake up from a nap only 20 minutes before a meeting? I’ve attended many a Sunday afternoon get-together as a marked man – all because Caro beat me to the bed for nap time. 

Carolyn took Adelyn to Little Rock this past Sunday for practice in the upcoming Nutcracker-ballet-thingy, and Jeremy came over to watch the games with Sam and me. It wasn’t long before I was out cold, and Jeremy was left to fend for himself on the God couch. We had failed to adequately warn Sam about being quiet so that we could peacefully fall into nirvana while watching football.

Jeremy’s voice woke me (he’s single, by the way)… “SAM, CAN YOU NOT BE QUIET?!!!

“”Welcome to my world,” I mumbled sleepily… and turned over.

We got elfed

Check this out… (click on the image)

Family photos, the sun, and a lake

My family joined the Files family at Lake Monticello Friday afternoon for an annual event that is closely related to having a root canal done – the family photo. The five Files females and TJ seemed to actually enjoy themselves as they primped, preened and posed for picture after picture in the setting sun.

My over-photographed and camera-weary kids, however, skated on the very brink of being drowned in Lake Monticello as they could not muster a genuine smile and were generally uncooperative. For once this year, I behaved myself extremely well. It was probably because I could see the steam coming from Carolyn’s ears related to our kids’ behavior. There was a beating look in her eyes, and I didn’t want to be the recipient.

When all was said and done, we some incredible shots of both families – ones in which you simply can’t tell that the Noble children were in danger of physical harm.

While Carolyn was snapping shots left and right, I had my iPhone out as well, just playing with it. It was pretty amazing some of the shots I got from it, including the one of the lake above.

Our Story: Back to Arkansas

It was a rather strange experience. We were sitting in the airport lobby of Love Field just outside Dallas sharing soft drinks with David James, the Collegiate Ministry Team leader for Arkansas Baptists. After visiting with him on the phone that evening, we had scheduled an initial interview with him.

During the last week of May 1995, I found myself sitting in a room at Ouachita Baptist University for the yearly Arkansas BSU Directors workshop. Campus ministers from across the state converged once a year for refreshment, fellowship, planning, praying and strategy for the upcoming year of ministry. There were several other “new guys” there during that May: Neal Nelson (then at SAU Tech, later to move to HSU), Jackie Flake (UAPB), and Tim Smith (UALR).

It was much easier attending the meeting and making the transition with others who were doing the same thing. In fact, I remain extremely close with three of those guys, including Ben Phillips (SAU) who came on board the following year.

In a short span, Carolyn and I had purchased our first house, met two dozen new collegians, and over that first summer “remodeled” the Baptist Student Union ministry building at UAM. We began to gear up for the fall of 1995, when students would arrive back on campus and planned an event-packed “Welcome Week.”

So began an eight-year love affair with campus ministry that still runs in my blood. Carolyn and I both found an incredible network of friends and support in the campus ministry family in Arkansas. Because we remained in the Southern Baptist Convention, our health insurance transferred over, which was a huge concern because of Carolyn’s cancer (the term pre-existing condition suddenly became an important part of our lives). In addition, our children were born while I ministered with collegians. I’m convinced there’s no greater place to raise your children than around Christian college students. They loved our babies and poured their lives into ours even as we also poured ours into theirs.

The BSU became the BCM in about 2001 – from Baptist Student Union to Baptist Collegiate Ministry. I’m still not sure if the change was necessary, but it was part of a wholesale denominational effort at transitioning what were deemed as generational names for organizations – “Union” – to a more apt description of who we were.

At our campus ministry at UAM, we developed the following vision statement:

• To magnify God as life’s ultimate joy by inviting students into an authentic relationship with Jesus Christ
  and equipping them for loving ministry to others for His glory.

In many ways, that vision statement still describes my own approach to ministry. God is life’s ultimate joy! We were created to know and enjoy Him forever. So many folks relegate God to some heavenly Santa Claus or Inglorious Grinch. However, the only way to truly love our Creator is to devote your life to knowing Him. It’s a life-shaping and never-ending pursuit that results in our own fulfillment and joy.

As a campus minister, my eyes were also opened to the world. Having always served on church staffs before this time, I had allowed myself to become myopic in my vision. It was always trying to get ready for the next week, the next worship service, etc. However, with collegiate ministry, we began to think.

What did we want a Christian college student to look like? What did we want them to do? And more importantly, how could God use young people who devoted their lives to Him while young?

Through the influence of the Passion movement and One Day events, I ran into biblical teachers like Louie Giglio, John Piper, Beth Moore, Voddie Baucham and others. Carolyn and I had our entire Christian worldview transformed as we saw in the scriptures that God’s primary goal is His own glory. He does not exist for us. It’s not about us. Life is about God and bringing Him glory!

We began to live that way. And we began to direct collegians toward God’s glory in everything they did. We saw lives transformed first by the Gospel through student salvations, and then we were delighted to see life purposes and missions being redirected as students embraced the pursuit of God’s glory wholeheartedly.

I was humbled to be able to lead student teams all over the world – all with students from southeast Arkansas and beyond. I walked the Great Wall of China two different summers as we shared the love of Christ in conversations on a Chinese university campus. A group of students were deeply challenged to get out of their comfort zones as we did evangelistic surveys on the campus of the University of Colorado at Boulder. We ministered on the campuses of the University of Southern Maine, Colby College, and University of Connecticut. We walked the campuses of three different universities in Alberta, Canada, seeking to strengthen existing Baptist campus ministries there. I traveled to the Ukraine, to Slovenia and to the Dominican Republic.

In short, we realized with deep conviction that there was no place on our planet that was not under God’s authority. We took seriously Jesus’ words “to go into all the world and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 28.19-20)

All the while, we continued to notice that the local churches in our area were much like the ones I had served at previously – more concerned with programs and activities than leading their members to spiritual maturity and preparing them to proclaim the glory of God locally and among the nations.

However, in the midst of incredible activity, ministry and delight, our life was turned upside down again.

To be continued…

DHL – freaky fast…

I was on the back porch and had just hit the submit button for the DHL website to schedule a pickup. It pained me to do so, because I am having to send my Macbook back for service.

At less than a year old, the plastic along the edge where my wrists rest had cracked and small slivers had peeled back. I called Apple Thursday and learned it was a known issue. On Friday, I had a box via DHL to ship the laptop to Apple for free repair. I waited until today, because we use the laptop in worship at church for presentations (go Propresenter!).

So, I shut the Macbook down after hitting submit and walked back into the house. I LITERALLY didn’t make it to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

“Hmmmm.” I wondered who it could be.

Lo and behold, it was the DHL gal.

“I was just around the corner when I got notified of your pickup. I know it’s not 12 yet, but wondered if you were ready?”

I was flabbergasted.

She waited patiently for me as I packed up the Macbook into the provided box and waved a cheery goodbye as she left.

DHL – freaky fast.

Sniff.

Groan. I have been waylaid by a sinister snot monster. It ambushed me sometime early Wednesday a.m., because I woke up talking like Donald Duck. Normally, I would appreciate that since he’s my favorite cartoon character.

Just before lunch, the sneezing started. Ryan came over for a pastoral meeting, and I still had the energy to chuck snotty tissues at him. Just when you think a person can’t move any faster, they surprise you.

After lunch at La Teraza, I came home and worked through the afternoon on some website stuff and began to slowly go through a roll of toilet paper, which I find to be much more convenient at times like this than a box of Kleenex.

Our small group met at my house last night, and no, I wasn’t emotional… It’s just my eyes had started betraying me – trying to keep up with my runny nose, I suppose. (oooo. nose… suppose…)

I went to bed early and discovered this morning a vacant house. I was rather surprised to discover it was also 11 a.m. I realized that my phone had roused me. I froggily informed (my voice sounded like a muppet) a friend that I wouldn’t be making it to Fordyce for lunch.

I’ve drug around the house this afternoon doing some reading and just finished some belated design work for Beech Street First Baptist Church in Texarkana. The kids both have afternoon activities, and Caro is taking pictures at Kim’s Dance all week.

My trash can is filling and my TP is shrinking. What a day…

We gotta Wii!

Just to follow up on the Yard Sale… The kids raised $168 at the yard sale, sold their PS2, a Gameboy Advance, an Epson printer and an Apple wireless mouse to come up with enough money for a Wii, and extra controller and a game!  I’ve got to admit that the Wii is one of the most innovative gaming experiences I’ve ever seen… I about threw out my arm trying to bowl a strike last night. 

They want a Wii

A new friend + a new toy + two determined kids = Saturday morning garage sale + Ebay and Amazon.com listings

Some great friends of ours have moved to Monticello from Arkadelphia, and their son was the recent recipient of a Nintendo Wii. It was a parental gift to ease the transition to a new town, I suppose. Sam and Adelyn both have been invited over to play the Wii, and it’s even been brought over to our house for an afternoon and evening.

I must admit that I was rather engaged in watching them play! It’s completely interactive, and just watching someone swing their controller like a baseball bat or a tennis racket and seeing the result on the screen is amazing!

Needless to say, Sam and Adelyn were hooked. Sam, of course, is my gaming buddy, but Adelyn has never gotten into gaming that much. However, she was totally enthralled with the Wii. In addition, Nintendo has always had great game selection for kids and adults.

The kids were told that if they could come up with the money, they could buy their own Wii.

So… all this week, they’ve been piling up junk in the hallway for this weekend’s yard sale! It’s been rather funny. I actually think they’re going to make quite a haul. Sam’s Playstation 2 (the fat one) has already sold for $110 on Ebay (with several games and three controllers); both of their Nintendo Gameboy Advance SPs are listed on Amazon. When you throw in my 19″ Sears TV that my dad bought me during my senior year in college, a very nice inkjet printer and a bunch of other junk, I think they’re going to surpass their goal.

Our Story… God bless Texas

In the spring of 1995, Carolyn was still receiving treatment for Hodgkin’s Disease. We had settled into a strange, surreal routine by that time after months of treatment. On the days she would receive treatment, we could basically count on her being sick and lethargic for a few days after that.

Members of our church and friends from Carolyn’s work were incredibly gracious as they arranged to have our meals taken care of on those hard days. Caro would basically crash on the couch or bed as her tired body recuperated from the harsh doses of chemo. I did all I could to keep a steady barrage of light-heartedness around the house during those days.

We prayed a lot together, and I believe those days laid a spiritual foundation in our lives that helped us learn to depend completely on God and His strength and joy. Our own was too often exhausted. Even today when Caro and I sit down together to pray, I sometimes reflect on those days in which we prayed diligently for healing and help.

That spring was my last semester in seminary. It had been a four-year ordeal for me. I had expected an experience at seminary similar to the one I’d had at Ouachita, but instead, I found that I simply did not enjoy seminary. Don’t get me wrong; I loved learning. However, what I saw at seminary – in some of the students and some of the professors and in the theological educational system as a whole – greatly disturbed me. It’s another post for another day.

I couldn’t wait to get out.

Our church was in the process of planing for a dynamic family life center, and I had become the minister to singles and young adults in late 1992, early 1993. We loved working with this new ministry segment in the church, and it was exciting to see it grow and new families and singles getting involved almost on a weekly basis.

However, as I’d mentioned earlier, a pastoral change at the church also brought a significant change in leadership style – one that I was deeply uncomfortable with. My restlessness grew, and I found it harder to keep my frustration to myself.

I was at seminary one day and noticed that there would representatives from the “Arkansas Baptist State Convention” on campus. This was pretty common, as I remember. It was a wonderful gesture as denominational leaders from your home state arrived on campus and often hosted a dinner for students from that state. It was pretty smart as well, as they would discover potential pastors and church leaders in order to recommend them to churches who might be looking.

Since we lived in Garland, which was an hour away from the seminary, I never really experienced “campus life” and never attended one of those dinners. However, on that particular day, I simply felt drawn to visit with someone.

I found the rooms where some of the denominational leaders were interviewing candidates for different positions, and happened to find a man named David James just finishing up an interview. I introduced myself and explained that I wasn’t looking for a “job” or a change but had just wanted to “meet the folks from Arkansas.”

David has an incredible ability to get anyone sharing within moments. Before I realized what was going on, we were deep into conversation, knee to knee, with me pouring out my heart and my hurts and my frustrations to him. I don’t know what happened. The gates of my soul seemed to have come unhinged.

He smiled and nodded and empathized with me in a genuine, Christ-like way. I literally felt like a massive semi-truck load of burden lifted from me as I shared. I told him about Caro and her cancer. About my hopes and dreams for doing relational ministry. About our church leadership transition and frustrations associated with it. I shared until I was empty.

Then he prayed for me and Carolyn as if he’d known us all our lives.

As we departed, he got my phone number and thanked me for the visit. I thanked him profusely for his time and listening ear. As I drove home, I was a little unnerved by how I’d unpacked my entire life onto this stranger. What was that all about? I wondered.

I told Carolyn about it at home and slipped back into routine for the next few days.

I can’t remember how many days later it was, but one afternoon, I received a phone call. It was David James.

“I’d like to talk to you about coming to Arkansas to be a campus minister,” he said.  “Would you be willing to visit more about this?”

I was shocked to hear myself answer, “Yes.”

To be continued… 

My day as a Watch DOG

I was Monticello Intermediate School’s first Watch DOG today. I hope you can paws long enough from your blog hopping to bark up this tree for a moment. I had a great experience; let me tell you why…

First of all, Watch DOGS is a national program, and you can read about its inception at MIS here. It’s a first class effort to involve dads and father figures in their children’s lives while at the same time assisting our schools with encouragement, protection and a level of added security.

I arrived at MIS this morning with my Watch DOGS shirt on, and every child that was dropped off happily greeted me. Some even stared in awe. It was a surreal reception. If only I could get my wife to treat me that way…. ;)

I was given a schedule for my day, which included observation/assistance in 5 different classes for only 45 minutes each. In between classroom time, I patrolled the hallways. I was able to eat lunch with my kids and even had a blast at recess with the third graders and then the fourth graders.

At recess, I initiated a small game of Chinese Freeze Tag with Adelyn and a few of her friends which blew up into this chaotic event involving 50+ screaming third graders. That was cut short quickly when one of the third graders slipped from the monkey bars and fell on his arm. I walked him to the office, comforting him and then returned. I broke up one girl fight and helped another student who had tripped and fallen, scraping her hands.

As the third graders left and the fourth graders arrived on the playground, I wondered if this injury rate was normal for the school… At that rate (I was doing mental calculations), every child should have equal opportunity for injury at some point during the school year…

I was extremely impressed with the teachers and classrooms I observed in. I am deeply grateful for kind instructors who demonstrated remarkable creativity, patience, and dedication to our students. I was reminded all over again why I am such a vocal supporter of public education. Our public school systems in Monticello are an excellent example of what happens when sharp, talented educators and administrators are involved and parents commit themselves to holistic education.

[Soapbox Tirade coming up:

The education process does not begin or end in the school. The foundation for education must be in the home. When parents reinforce, support and assist their students and schools, the result is a dynamic, holistic educational process. I was deeply proud of my children's school and its leaders and staff today. I know that the process is not perfect, but a perfect one doesn't exist. However, I continued to be thankful for the blessing of our local schools throughout the day.

End of Soapbox Tirade.]

I didn’t hear the intercom announcing that the school’s “first Watch DOG” would be on campus, but apparently the students were encouraged to “high five” the dad on duty. I felt like a hero all day. Every child that saw me in the halls wanted to high five me. When I passed a line of kids in the halls for bathroom break, I felt like an NFL athlete coming out of the tunnel on game day. It was just a long line of high fives.

Although I had seen the promotional video for Watch DOGS, I don’t think I was quite prepared for how the kids would receive me. Is it so unusual to see a dad involved at school? I guess so. Even the teachers and staff treated me like I was special today. Perhaps that says something to our dads in our culture… If we will connect better with our kids and be intentionally involved in their lives, huge things can happen.

I will be talking to the guys at our church who are graduates of our Raising a Modern Day Knight study and scheduling a time to offer it to men in our community. In addition, next January, we will be partnering with a few other churches to offer Men’s Fraternity in our community. Both experiences encourage men to be the men God created us to be.

Oh, by the way, I was on my last hallway patrol of the day when I heard over the intercom… “Will Jeff Noble please report to the office?”

A cold chill went down my spine. Even though I knew what it was about, it was still unnerving and brought back nightmarish flashbacks to grade school days. I think it’s the fear of every kids to be called to the office. Mine was even more heightened since my mom worked at my school. If I was ever in real trouble, the office was only the first stop; my mom’s room was the last.

Upon arriving in the office, I had to fill out an injury report on the third grader who had fallen from the monkeybars at recess. A trip to the doctor had revealed a broken arm.

As the kids loaded up into their cars and buses to end the day, I got more high fives and smiles. If you’re a mom or dad reading this, I highly encourage you to check out the program and get involved or begin one in your school system.

Whew. Now it’s time to go gnaw on a bone or something…

Ghost is back..

First of all, Ghost is back.

Two weeks ago,  I discovered an unfortunate result of being a two-wheeled traveller… a flat tire is total stoppage.

There is no spare on a moped.

I was at a meeting at Sam and Adelyn’s school, and when I strolled out into the parking lot after school, donned my Village People Moto Helmet and prepared to disembark, I felt an unsettling wobble in my rear end – the moped’s that is.

I dismounted and stared at the tire, totally confused as to what to do. Ah! Cell phone. Wife. Bicycle pump.  Yep.

Carolyn arrived in her Sequoia with a rather snide grin on her face. At least she’d brought the pump.

I aired it up and zipped back into town. I made it to the square before I felt the back tire begin to give. I pulled over, with Carolyn pulling into the parking space in front of Discount Merchandise and went to pumping again.

I made it home on the second air-up.

The next day we took the moped to Exxon. They couldn’t get the tire off to change it. It seems it’s not as easy to change a moped tire as one would think. On to Monticello’s Outdoor Store, which sells motorcycles and four-wheelers.

Poor Ghost sat there for two weeks, waiting patiently for a new tube while uglier and less-loved vehicles were repaired in front of it. Darn hunting season!

Finally, we were notified on Saturday that Ghost was ready to ride.

So, beware Monticello… Ghost is back!

The Noble Look-alike-Meter…

With many thanks to Jenny for posting this first in our blog circle…


I don’t think this thing is real accurate… What do you think?

The Squirrel

We have a chihuahua that I can’t stand.

We have a fish that appeared over night.

There is a bird in Sam’s room that bites me.

We finally got rid of a hamster whose roll wheel kept me up at night squeaking.

The cat that stays outside is the only animal I remotely like at our house.

And I’ve always wanted a pet squirrel…

Carolyn yelled at me on Tuesday from her office to “come here quick!!!!” I jumped up and ran back there. To my horror, the cat had a baby squirrel, and was preparing it for dinner. Carolyn was just watching.”What are you doing, you sicko!?” I exclaimed and ran out the back door.

Apparently the door slamming startled the cat and allowed the squirrel to leap onto the nearest tree. It was barking/squeaking. And it was cute.

My photoset at Flickr probably tells the story best.

What happened next was a tragedy. I allowed Carolyn to talk me out of keeping it. I envisioned putting it in the chihuahua’s kennel and raising it with TLC&A (tender loving care & acorns). Carolyn didn’t think that was fair to the chihuahua. Mind you, this is the same demon (the dog, not Caro) that bit through my fingernail last month when I was trying to put her in her kennel.With regret, I placed the squirrel back on the tree, and watched it slowly climb up a ways.

As I entered the house, a surge of determination overcame. I will have the squirrel for a pet. This is nuts, I thought. I hurried back outside, to see to my dismay that the squirrel was higher than I could reach. I ran and got a ladder and placed it clumsily against the tree. The wobbly climb began.Little did I know that Squirrel Hater (previously known as my wife) was laughing her head off as I delicately climbed the ladder – and taking pictures.

I got the top run and for a brief moment, grasped the squirrel’s tail, but was unable to dislodge it from the tree without also dislodging myself. It was then that I realized that I was dangerously close to falling. I had a death hug on a pine tree. And here came SH – the photographer I live with…

Anyway, I think I’m over it today… But I still wish I had a pet squirrel. Its parents (or two larger squirrels) found it, and they were building a nest in the pine tree out back on Wednesday. Buddy (as I have now named him) could be seen watching from about 20 feet up.

Our Story, a week in October

Many of you who know us well and have been following this gradual epic of “Our Story” may have been waiting for this particular entry. In some ways, this week in October 1994 still remains the epicenter of our relationship. It was both our worst and best week ever.

Since moving to Garland in the summer of 1992, we had truly carved out a wonderful niche for ourselves among the families, youth, and staff of First Baptist. We loved it. While every church has problems, and they always seem to be intensified at the moment you live through them, our memories of FBCG are ones of delight and gratitude. It was through that family of Christ that we experienced intensive care at a time when we most needed it.

In October 1994, I was beginning my last year of seminary. I would graduate the following May, and the church was entering a massive building project to create a Family Life Center. After much prayer and a sense of calling, I had moved into the position of Young Adult and Singles Minister at the church, becoming a peer with Kevin on staff (no more cleaning volleyball pole holes as a youth intern!).

Carolyn had been cancer-free for two years, and we were seeing the Lord do some extraordinary things in the lives of singles and young families.

Those days were not without some scares. Carolyn had had a few lumps appear since the cancer that had to be biopsied to ensure that they were not the return of Hodgkin’s Disease. All had tested benign. However, she had had a lump under her arm removed the previous week, and we were a little on edge as we waited for the results.

On Monday, Carolyn’s 1987 Nissan Sentra SE – completely dependable to this point – hiccuped, coughed, and then died. A tow to the service bay revealed that the engine was shot. $1500 estimate to replace it. We were devastated. It was just not something we had money for at all. We moped around and wondered “why” like most of us do when inexplicable and inconvenient things happen.

On Wednesday, I was studying in the library at seminary when Carolyn called me. There was a quiet hush on the line, and then I heard a familiar refrain…

“Jeff, it’s cancer.”

I drove immediately back to Garland from Fort Worth, pondering the implications and praying all the way for understanding and strength. The return of cancer certainly caused the inconvenience of a car breakdown to pale in comparison.

Upon arriving at home, on Avenue D, just a block from the church, Carolyn and I spent the afternoon together, talking, crying and seeking comfort from each other and the Lord. We also started calling family and friends. Little did we know at that point the magnitude of prayer effort that would soon be organized for us around the nation.

Sleeping on things always helps, but Thursday was surreal. I went to the church to work, and Carolyn returned to her teller job at Nation’s Bank.

Friday was rainy.. and unbelievable.I walked home from the church at lunchtime to grab a bite to eat, and upon arriving, was curious at the aroma of wood burning on the front porch. As I opened the front door, a black cloud of smoke and heat billowed out, singing the hay scarecrow hanging on the front door. Startled, I peered inside, through the smoky haze.

Seeing no flames, and not really thinking clearly (surprised?), I ran into the house to use the phone in the living room to call 9-1-1. As I blurted out that our house was on fire to the voice on the other end, she asked, “Sir, where are you now?”

“In the living room,” I replied breathlessly.

“Of the house that’s on fire?” she asked incredulously.

The realization of my stupidity dawned on me as I meekly replied, “Uh, yes.”

“Get out of the house, sir,” she ordered. “The fire department is on its way.”

Everything was such a blur for the next hour, I barely remember the sequence of events. I do distinctly remember two things:

1. I ran next door and called Carolyn at work. I told her our house was on fire. She didn’t believe me, and I had to put the neighbor girl on the phone to convince her. “Omigosh,” she said, and hung up.
2. I was standing in the front yard, watching the fire department arrive and prepare to enter the house when two of our church’s deacons showed up. It was drizzling, and they stood there with me, comforting and encouraging me. At this time, Carolyn arrived. She had had to go the long way since Avenue D (a major thoroughfare east-west between Garland and Dallas) was blocked by the fire trucks. As she trudged through the wet lawn to where we were standing under an umbrella, all we heard my beautiful spouse saying over and over again was some colorful expletives.

I also remember grinning sheepishly at the two deacons and then all of us bursting out laughing at the sheer unreality of it all.

It was only a few minutes later that our State Farm agent, Danny Binz, arrived with a significant check in his hand. I can’t remember if I’d called or how he found out, but he was literally there out of the blue. He was also a member of our church.”Go check into a hotel, get some dinner and then go get you some clothes,” he said. He was incredible. Rather, the Lord was.

In our moment of total shock and at the culmination of what we’ve since always referred to as “The Week From Hell,” the Lord was present and reminding us of His love and provision.

Dazedly, we checked into the La Quinta and discovered over the next week or so a very caring and kind staff who went the extra mile to allow us to feel at home. We ate out for the next week or so, and were invited into so many people’s homes for meals that we could never possibly thank them for their kindness.

That Saturday, we went to Town East Mall in Mesquite, with the money we’d been given to shop for some clothes and needed items. Since church was the next day, and all our clothes and belongings had been smoke-damaged, we had to get some “Sunday clothes.” Carolyn was rather excited about it all, but I was rather uncomfortable. I just don’t clothes shop. Period.

I remember walking into a trendy store of the time called Structure. There were life-sized posters hanging everywhere of models in Structure clothes. A salesman noticed my discomfort and asked, “May I help you?” I looked around, overwhelmed, and said simply, “Make me look like one of those guys,” pointing to one of the posters.

I was out of there in 15 minutes with a large sack of clothes. I still have the cool, tweedy sports coat I bought that day.

As treatment began in the next few weeks, we learned that it would drag on for a while. Carolyn would have intense chemotherapy this time. We had to find a new home, and were relieved to discover a nice home just around the corner from where we were. As we settled in and buckled down, we simply sought to endure for the next several months.

Our church family was incredible to us all during this time. We received cards and notes from other churches and individuals from dozens of cities over the next several weeks. We were literally upheld by the prayers of the saints during this time.

As Caro began losing her hair, she amazed me at her resilience and strength. True to our nature, we found ways to laugh and simply lean on God during all those hard days. It was His unrelenting assurance of His love for us in a thousand small and large ways that kept us looking up and looking out. He simply would not allow us to become self-consumed. It was a glorious blessing. The worst thing anyone can ever do is to focus exclusively on themselves and the “unfairness” or “wrongness” of whatever they’re enduring.

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. (1 Peter 4.12-13)

As 1995 began, we were wondering what was next for us. We were struggling to decide if FBCG was where God wanted us for the longterm, or if He was preparing us for something else. A pastoral change at the church had left us and most of the staff reeling with the abrupt change in morale as well.

In July, the doctors (who were incredible) would inform us that there was no trace of cancer left. The treatments appeared to have been completely successful. We and hundreds of others who had joined us in our ordeal through prayer and support rejoiced and thanked the Lord.

However it was late that spring that an arbitrary encounter with someone at seminary proved to be a supremely transitional event. You just never know what the next day will bring.

To be continued…

(By the way, there is another version of this story that I wrote back in 1995 here.)

Our Story, ruining the Metro

This entry will be a little different from most of the others in our story, but it’s such a “moving” story, and one previously unwritten, that I thought it might be appreciated here. It occurs during our tenure in Garland, Texas, and it happened on an ordinary day.

Kevin Wieser and I had left the church in separate cars, heading for our favorite eating establishment – Uncle Wings. This incredible dinery was deceptively named, for it was not a KFC competitor. Uncle Wing was a Chinese buffet restaurant, nestled into the corner of a small strip mall less than a mile and a half from the church.

It was part of our daily routine to eat together and usually consisted of the normal..

“So where do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. Where do you want to eat?”

Insert a long list of suggested restaurants, including Grandy’s, Chili’s, Black-Eyed Pea, Wendy’s, Golden Corral, etc. Finally, one of us would hit on one each of us felt like stuffing our stomachs in, and away we’d go.

However, on this particularly fine day, we had taken separate cars – Kevin in his maroon Nissan something-or-other, and me in my mighty fine roadster, a 1991 red Geo Metro. If I played my cards right, I could almost shift into fourth gear between stoplights on the way to Uncle Wings.

I was never really that self-conscious about this car until after this day.

We ate and bantered back and forth about fantasy football, church and the dream of DJ-ing a morning comedy radio show together. We are still rather funny (to us) when we’re together, and we had dreams of blessing the entire metroplex of DFW with our wit.

We concluded our meal, and I jumped back into the Metro for the obligatory, testosterone-induced drag race down Avenue B to see who would make it back to the church first.

I had barely shifted into third when my… (At this point, I’d advise the squeamish and mothers with small children reading over their shoulder to please be ready to minimize the screen) stomach made a strange, rumble-gurgling noise. It was almost immediately accompanied by an intense discomfort immediately behind my belt.

I’m sure I turned pale, and I can distinctly remember saying, “Whoa.”

I have an affectionate term for stomach cramps that lead to power dumping (yes, this is the screen minimization part). I call them “crap waves.” I don’t know how else to describe them, but in random conversations (with both men and women) over the years, I’ve discovered that I am not alone in this experience. Others have their own terms for these gut-knuckling, forehead-sweating, on-and-off grips of bowel pain that precede a hasty trip to the toilet where one remains until a significant amount of groaning and unusual noise takes place over a period of time. (Is that a bland enough description?)

Anyway, this sudden bowel concert concerned me greatly. I knew what it hinted at, and I was in the middle of post-lunch traffic on one of the busiest streets of Garland. And I was driving. Not good.

Well, I instantly formulated my strategy: Intermittent relief by controlled farting. I felt I could make it to a bathroom in the church (somewhere high on the third, unused floor at this time of day) if I could just let out a couple of relief-producing farts. With that thought, I slowly leaned to one side to aide in the gas passing, and… the explosion happened.

I don’t know how to say this delicately… I pooped my pants. Bad. The runny, voluminous kind.

I’m sure I uttered a completely appropriate expletive and regardless of the traffic danger, veered to the far lane, and made a quick block so that I was heading toward home in less than 15 seconds.

I drove the next five minutes to home with my left leg straight as a rod, jammed against my floorboard to keep my heinie elevated above my seat. I didn’t want to mar the Metro’s fine linen upholstery.

Upon arriving at our house at breakneck speed, I envisioned doing a General Lee slide into the curb in front of my house until I saw our neighbor out mowing his yard. I had to settle for a nonchalant parking job and then exited the car as normally as I could, walking slowly up to the house so that I would not attract attention to myself.

I thought I had done rather well, until I stepped soggily into our bathroom and looked at my pants over my shoulder in the bathroom mirror. They were brown. So was my shirt about a foot up my back! I realized that my cool, “No-I-haven’t-just-crapped-on-myself-it’s-your-imagination” walk up our front sidewalk had been a farce. I was a walking, gushing advertisement for laxatives.

Anyway, I threw those clothes away in a trash bag and took a long shower. Eeeeew. I still get chills thinking about it all.

I finally got changed and headed back out to the car, thinking the ordeal was over. I was going to be late for staff meeting at this rate. When I opened the car door, the smell hit me… Then I saw it. My entire seat was stained brown – and it was damp.

I spent the next half-hour cleaning my car up. Thank goodness my neighbor had gone inside. (He was probably calling his friends and describing my Cool Crap Walk to them.)

When I finally made it back to church – late for staff meeting – Kevin looked at me quizzically and whispered, “Where did you go?”

I refrained in embarrassment from saying, “In my pants,” and sat silently through most of that meeting, pondering the betrayal of my bowels.

It was at least a couple of days before I could bring myself to go back to Uncle Wings…. and my Metro finally sold later (not because we were trying to get rid of it or anything…). We didn’t tell the buyer that it had become affectionately named the Crapmobile.

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Survivor Men

Sam and Zac McKinstry spent the afternoon together. I never saw them until they came loping into the house, dripping in sweat.

“Where have you been?” I asked, curious.

“Riding bikes on North Main,” Zac said.

“Where on North Main?” I said.

“On the road,” Zac said.

They both snickered and then proceeded to the kitchen to eat an MRE, which Zac had brought with them. I stood there, scratching my head, wondering when I had begun to let rugrats get the best of me in conversations like that.

Zac and Sam both love the outdoors – Zac probably more than Sam, cause he lives, eats, and breathes the new shows like Survivor Man and Man vs. Wild. I think the McKinstry family have been living off MRE’s for the past few weeks, cause I keep hearing them describe various meals they’ve had. The most intriguing thing about an MRE is watching a plastic bag boil food without melting itself.

I sampled the Vegetarian Burger and tried to swallow some “cinnammon bread,” and in doing so wondered if they make PeptoBismol packs for the soldiers.

A weekend of service

Whew! I’m sitting here on a Sunday night reflecting on a busy, fulfilling weekend which our family and friends, many from Journey, spent in service.

On Friday evening, about 15 of us volunteered to work the concession stand at what is always the busiest home football game of the year for one of the local high schools, the Billies. Since they were playing their rival Warren, the stands were completely packed on both sides. It’s a surreal experience to realize that in many places, Friday night high school football is not as big a deal as it is here. However, in our locale it is a cultural icon.

From the moment I entered the concession stand with Carolyn 30 minutes before game time to the moment we shut the doors as the game concluded (Monticello got blown out), we felt like it was piranhas at a buffalo river crossing. And we were the buffalo. It was simply crazy – but fun.

We got up Saturday morning for a work day at Journey. It was the first work day we’ve had there since late mid-June, I think. After moving into our new facility and remodeling it, we’ve simply been too busy to take care of a lot of minor projects and cleaning. We had a herd of workers show up and help with everything from cleaning 15+ years of mulch out of the roof gutters to building shelves in a closet for the praise band. It was awesome to see so many be so enthusiastic and helpful about menial things.

After church today, one of our members cooked a major gumbo feast for everyone as a fundraiser for our upcoming Denver mission trip. It was delicious! Sunday afternoon, another church member went out to help make plans to hook water up for a family that has been attending Journey who doesn’t currently have it.

Finally, tonight we had a small group leader meeting back at Journey, and every family that is helping lead a small group faithfully showed up. We had a wonderful, laughter-saturated and prayer-filled time of sharing and preparation. Then we watched a portion of a video about biblical interpretation that was fantastic.

Right now, the kids are in the living room, cleaned and ready for bed, shooting Hot Wheels all over the place and laughing the heads off. I’m signing off for the evening and the weekend!