Autographs

I have known some of the greatest and most influential men of my time, and I have their autographs.

One of them was a highly respected entrepreneur and wealthy beyond all imagination. His earnings were so large that they have taken years to count and though he died 35 years ago, his riches are still being credited to him and his posterity.  Until the day he passed from this world, he never stopped sharing his wealth with those he loved and with every stranger he met.  Yet you would not even know his name.

 His business was people, his wealth was kindness and laughter.

Another was considered to be a "hard" man by many, but his life work was to instruct the ignorant.  His rough words of warning and lessons glued themselves to the minds of his students.  He taught survival in a harsh and bitter world.  He was known by many, understood by few.

He left deep marks, deep marks last lifetimes.

The next was a quiet hero.  He toiled many years under the harshest burdens of life, yet I never knew him to have a single dark moment.  Surely he had many, for the shackles he walked in were not removable and caused great pain.  But his countenance was always bright, cheerful, and positive.  He had one great joy and passion in life when I knew him, and he spent every waking hour protecting that jewel.  

He saved a life and in so doing, his life was saved.

Like them, while we walk on this earth we leave footprints - our autographs.  If we leave footprints on the beaches of meaninglessness, they wash away with the waves and tides of time.  If we walk firmly on young rock, they outlast our journey and leave trails for others to follow - for generations to come.  What ground do you leave your footprints in? How deep are your trails that others may follow?  Where do they lead those behind you?

Autographs of great people are prized.  I got Their autographs - signatures inscribed on my heart.  I take them out and reflect on them too rarely.  I have signed autographs too - I am humbled by the privilege and quake at the responsibility.

Cherish your autographs.  Pull them out, dust them off, and look deeply.

The Greatest Gift

I struggled with demons one day - sin committed, with full knowledge that I had wronged my Creator, those who love me, and myself.  The fight within me lasted many rounds, and I, bloodied in battle finally could pick myself up from the mat no more.  I was defeated, the victor an ugly foe - taunting me, humiliating my soul, almost convincing me that I was lost forever.

With all my strength, I lifted my wounded head to look up.  No, my face was lifted up by unseen hands - soft, strong hands. As I opened my eyes, my adversary was nowhere to be seen - and I thanked my Comforter, and begged forgiveness through my tears...but no words of comfort were heard.

Then I looked up - and saw an unseen vision.  My Savior, hung to a cross, spoke unheard words that seared the depths of my heart:

"Dear friend, you are forgiven - I forgave you even before your match was fought.  I knew you would lose this battle - why did not you call on me?  Your battle was not a stranger me, I entered it long before you were to face it - and I was victorious.  You also can be victorious, but only with me at your side - you can never defeat this enemy alone.  After all this time, do you still not understand?  I defeated the enemy for you ages ago - you have always been forgiven, even before you made your request.  Your tortuous pain seems just to you, yet it is needless and in vain.  I forgave you because you are My son, not for your valiant but losing fight.  I love you as none other can love - just because you are My child, and for no other reason...I love My own because they are mine.  Do you not, in your own feeble way, love your children in the same manner?  Rise up, live in peace and joy, My beloved son.  Live each day with faith that the victory is won...living defeated is an offense to My sacrifice, to My victory."

The warfare continues, the battle rages on.

Father, give me strength of faith to know Your mighty hand protects, defends, and provides.

"So abideth Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is Love."

Graveyard Voices

I spent some time in two cemeteries last week - two graveyards, each with different residents and different meanings to me.  Both with ancient headstones, yet one living and the other dead.  One I visited with youth at my side, the other with wisdom holding my hand.

The first was a cemetery that has been all but forgotten - maintained by the living, but deprived of new dead - she is filled with ancient memories that none remember.  Voices of the old South whisper through barely readable epitaphs as mild winds blow through her trees.  Yet life sits at her feet in the form of my niece.  Special words and moments now crown her ancient stones, bringing life where death sleeps.  Her unknown guardians smile and are comforted through giving comfort...we know them not, yet they know us and bring eternal gifts.

Multitudes of strangers travel fast by the second cemetery - unknowing, uncaring.  But her gate offers wonders as she still gives shelter to the living and the dead.  I have been in this place before with grief as my companion.  She is a history book - one can discover new faces of the ancients there, as long as you have a guide.  My guide, wandering with purpose, uncovers the stories and makes the names and dates come alive.  As my guide's mind explores the memories for me, I realize that she has been my life's guide too - ever teaching, ever nudging me along to find true life.

I have learned that graveyards are special places - for the living.

Approaching Slow Deep Waters

Growing up in Louisiana, I always had a great appreciation for fast moving water.  The only rivers I had ever known were slow, dark, and muddy - they were called "rivers", but most were simply wandering endless bodies of water more aptly described as bayous because they were not in a hurry to get anywhere fast.  My grandfather used to say a bayou is so named because it flows "by you house"...simple, and quite appropriate.

It was not until my teens years that I experienced "white water" - water moving so fast that it gurgled and belched foam as it laughingly barreled its way downstream. It was water untamed and unleashed, searching for adventure - like the old familiar callings of "Go West Young Man" or "Go Find Your Way in the World" - limitless opportunity, journeys for exploring.  Life called and its voice was high, shrill, and unavoidable - not to be denied.

My white waters were a magnificant ride - filled with adventure as they boiled over the downhill slope of life.  But there were dangerous rapids along the way - violent places where only lifeless floating things or strong swimmers survive.  As with surviving river rapids in a craft, life is all in the approach...always and eternally, it is all about the approach.  Approach the rapid poorly and you end up captain of a wreck - approach life poorly and you can wreck your craft and perhaps even the lives of those around you.  Successful white water approaches require planning and preparedness for the unexpected situation.  Your path through the turmoil must avoid the traps, the rocks, and make use of the current.  It must be planned by advanced scouting, determining the goal, and you must give yourself escape options when things do not go as planned. White waters are full of adventure and pleasures, but also fraught with turbulence and danger.  I appreciate them more now, not for their shallow pleasures, but for their lessons.

Slow deep water is rarely exciting after you go through the rush of white water.  Its lazy flow requires paddling to get through.  Its endless boredom surrounds, its silence lulls the sailor as he yearns for rest.  The quagmire of the muddy bayou offer up its own dangers: septic places, rotten stenches, sweat and toil.  

Life's river tends to get slower and deeper as the years go by - remembrances of rampaging rapids becoming stories that we tell our children.  Yet, slow deep water remains all about the approach.  Planning and preparedness remain necessities of success.  Lonely and forgotten places require work to negotiate, and dangers still abound.  Approaching the slow deep water of life takes more time and patience than the deadliest of rapids.  Strength must be gained and peace must be welcomed - not just to endure, but to enjoy the journey.  Strength requires exercise, peace requires patience and faith.  Let our exercise be spiritual discipline, allow our faith to make patience our friend.

Now I approach slow deep waters too with excitement, knowing that wonders lurk beneath.

A Warrior's Heart

Who can know a warrior's heart?


A heart that has been shattered by the sound of the gun, by the violence of mortal combat, by terror in the night, by fallen comrades.


Dreams that become nightmares, both waking and sleeping.


A heart full of great courage, a heart full of great fear.


A heart joyous in victory,  a heart downtrodden in defeat.


Battles that should not be remembered, filled with moments that should not be forgotten.


Returned from the violent field, yet peace comes not, or ever so slowly.


We cannot know.


But God knows a warrior's heart, He is the Great Warrior.


Dear Father, bring Your Peace to our Warriors, returned from the battle.

A Poem

I have always loved poems.  The best thing about poems: as author, you can do anything you want with them - bad grammar, poor sentences, and they don't have to rhyme.  You see, poems belong to the author, and whomever he wishes to give them to.  They don't even need a title, if you wish it so.


I had always heard it would come to this.


That love between two minds and spirits would travel beyond the physical realm.


That two would in all ways become one.


That friendship and faithfulness would outlast all things.


That we would become comrades in the battle of life.


That spending time together would become our favorite thing to do.


That when apart we would long for each other's company like a thirsty one longs for quenching waters.


That small courtesies and short tender touches would delight the heart so.


That forgiveness would become eagerly given.


That time and age would change everything, forever, and for good.


It has come to this.


I am grateful.

Homecomings - A Post Script

P.S.  We never know where homecomings will lead.

On that one particular homecoming from Wyoming, as a beautiful and remarkable summer drew to a close, my life was changed forever.

At the end of the dirt road that led me home, on that very same gravel driveway, as I opened the door to my truck, I saw and met for the first time the little bundle of energy and ray of sunshine who was to became my best friend, and eventually, my wife.

Homecomings can be that way, special and life-changing...may your next homecoming be a blessed one.