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They were two branches off the same Vine.
Designed in the Vine’s image, each a was unique expression of the nature of its Creator. One was tender and sensitive, with stunning intuitive wisdom. The other was strong and masculine, with a compelling view toward the horizon.
They loved being branches of the Vine. And they loved each other. But they’d cut themselves off from the flow of the Vine’s life. They believed the lie that they could thrive on their own. The result: An odd combination of life and death in the same form.
Form without flow.
Image without reality.
As they dreamed of a future together, they asked one another, “How can we shape ourselves so our offspring can know our love and be fruitful?” [click to continue…]
Dylan hadn’t smiled for days. His grandmother, whom he loved dearly, had died, and the ten-year-old was crushed. His friends were worried about him, and convinced him to visit their special friend, an old man they called The Storyteller. The Storyteller loved children, and often helped them with the special stories he would make up. The Storyteller also knew Dylan’s grandmother.
“This is Dylan,” one of the kids said that Monday afternoon. “His grandmother died last week, and he’s very sad.”
The Storyteller looked up from his gardening and sized up the boy. “Sad” was an understatement.
“Looks like she found the Big Surprise,” said the Storyteller, with a twinkle in his eye.
“What’s the Big Surprise?” asked Dylan dejectedly.
“Well, let me tell you about it,” said the old man as he turned to sit on the grass and the kids sat around him. [click to continue…]
Alexander's Bridge over Chickamauga Creek
Imagine throwing a little backyard barbecue and inviting 12,000 of your closest friends. And even closer enemies.
It happened nearly 125 years ago, in 1889, at a place called Chickamauga, near Chattanooga, TN. And it took place where these friends and enemies had once gathered 26 years earlier to kill each other.
You don’t hear as much about the Battle of Chickamauga as you do Vicksburg or Gettysburg or Shiloh. But in two days, 66,000 Confederate and 58,000 Union troops staged two days of hell – desperate, often hand-to-hand combat. Somewhere around 18,480 Confederate and 16,240 Union soldiers were killed, wounded or missing when all was said and done.
One side won the battle. The other won the war.
Then as time passed, something remarkable happened. [click to continue…]
(From the forthcoming book, Coach Lightning)
(Note: Anybody can be an influence to people sitting right in front of them. But it takes a special kind of character to continue to shape lives you first touched 50 years ago. The following is an excerpt about the way Morris Brown did that, and how his influence lives on to this day. You can see other excerpts here and here.)
Benjamin Disraeli, the British statesman, once said, “The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches, but to reveal to him his own.” That’s what you discover when you talk to the people whose lives were touched by Morris Brown. You hear the language of wealthy people. And they’ll tell you that Coach Brown was instrumental in revealing their riches to them.
One of the greatest contributions any leader, teacher, or friend can make in terms of influence is to “raise the bar” in the pursuit of excellence. Morris did that time and time again. Don Hunt calls him a “beacon in my heart and soul” to this day. From the days of Little League baseball until today, Don says, Coach Brown’s life and actions remind him to strive to be the best person that he can be.
It’s interesting to note that in all the conversations or interviews about Coach Brown’s influence, nobody went to a chalkboard and started drawing the X’s and O’s of a football locker room. Morris influenced players and students by first influencing them as people. As he helped raise up a generation of excellent people, the on-field or on-court play took care of itself. [click to continue…]
A Fable about leadership, teamwork, unity, and of course, honey…
It was a lovely morning in the Hundred Acre Wood, where Christopher Robin’s friends lived and played. The bees were abuzz making their honey (and You-Know-Who knew just who it was for).
Kanga had already gotten an early start on motherly things, while Roo was playing close by.
Piglet was pacing about his tidy home saying “Oh Dear, Dear, Dear” because he knew something Important was about to happen, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was.
Rabbit was tending his garden, nervously glancing around for signs that he soon may be bounced by Tigger.
Eeyore was a bit confused as he chomped on a thistle because he couldn’t think of anything to be gloomy about.
Owl was remembering the time to no one in particular that his great uncle Waldo on his mother’s side did something famous because it happened on a lovely day such as today.
And Winnie the Pooh? Being a Bear of Very Little Brain, he was sitting at the Thotful Spot, thinking. And wishing for just a bit of honey, because as everyone knows, bears think better when their tumblies aren’t so rumbly. And there’s nothing like honey to take the rumbly out of the tumbly.
This was no ordinary day after all. This was the day of the Grand Celebration. They weren’t quite sure what they were celebrating, but everyone had agreed that today would be a fine day to celebrate it. [click to continue…]
You wouldn’t have wanted to trade places with George. But bad as it was, when all was said and done, I don’t know that he’d have wanted to trade places with you, either. Years ago George Matheson was ushered into new dimensions of faith, understanding, and intimacy with the Lord. But the price he paid was beyond expensive.
It all began with the brutality of rejection.
George had his future shining in front of him. He was engaged to be married, and was pursuing a career and calling in ministry. But that bright future began to dim – literally – when George began going blind. When his fiancé learned that the doctors gave him no hope for a cure, she ended the engagement, saying she couldn’t go through life taking care of a blind man.
I don’t know of a loneliness more devastating and bitter than that of rejection. Matheson had to learn to do without a woman he had come to feel he couldn’t live without. What’s more, he had to live with the piercing thoughts that taunted him incessantly: [click to continue…]
You wouldn’t have known from meeting Martha the first time that her life had been a sinking ship. Rewind from the near-poverty this single mother of two sons lived to the day she walked away from her “covering” – an abusive, controlling religious system. Go back a bit further to the time her minister husband left her for another woman. If you dare, rewind a bit more to the night she and her husband came home to find their third son, Matthew, dead in his crib from SIDS.
Life had not been kind. But you wouldn’t know it from the courageous smile, the ox-like willingness to work, and the radiant joy she had in her relationship with Jesus Christ. Sure, Martha had her moments, and could cry with the worst of ‘em. But a heart so captured by the grace of God will cling to it, even when everything else seems lost.
I once asked her why she didn’t just walk away, since loving and serving God had been so costly. I don’t remember any words – just the look on her face that let me know I had just asked the most absurd question possible.
A heart once captured will never let go. [click to continue…]
(From the forthcoming book, Coach Lightning)
Mention Morris Brown’s name around Jones County, Mississippi to anybody who knew him, and they’ll probably reply, “Oh, you mean Coach?” Not much chance of somebody piping up and saying, “He was my Social Studies teacher!”
But don’t let the labels fool you. Coach was always a teacher at heart. And while a football field or basketball court may have been his favorite classrooms, they certainly weren’t his only ones. There were precious few, if any, specialists in rural education in the 1950s. But that was fine with Coach Brown. He willingly embraced teachable moments wherever the situation called for it.
Just ask Dale Holifield, who grew up on a small farm in Jones County. At age 11, Dale was so shy he could have been considered antisocial. Outside of farming, he participated in very few activities. Even when he went hunting and fishing, he usually did it alone. All of that changed one summer day at the W. C. Houston grocery store, across from Shady Grove School. Dale was getting a cold RC cola to drink and chatting with Bubba Houston, the store owner’s son. The time came for Bubba to go to baseball practice, and he invited Dale to come along. Dale reluctantly accepted, and joined Bubba at the small practice field behind Bubba’s house. Hoping not to be noticed, Dale took a seat on the ground under a shade tree to watch the practice.
He didn’t sit very long. [click to continue…]
(The 12 Ways of Christmas, Part 10 – The Way of Mourning)
Joan Hightower was a force of nature. At least that’s what the folks in Savannah would tell you.
Need something done? Calling Joan is like money in the bank. Problem solver, morale officer, executive earth shaker – no challenge seemed too big. She could plan the battle, lead the charge, cheer on the troops, bandage the wounds and make the refreshments – all with a convincing, contagious can-do attitude.
A 16-year veteran of widowhood, this impressive package of inspired living could run circles around women half her age. And men? Joan would just laugh. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 8 – The Way of Sharing)
(Note: Last year I started a series of stories titled The Twelve Ways of Christmas. Hopefully this year I will complete it. If you’d like to go back to where it all began, click here.)
K-Mart. It was the one place in Oak Ridge that David Carpenter knew would still be open Christmas Eve as he observed his years-of-time-honored tradition of last-minute shopping. Having made his way down every single aisle (also an annual ritual) and tossing in unique stocking stuffers, David now stood waiting his turn in the checkout line.
Behind him, Maria Martinez laughed with her brother Aaron as the two of them had gathered some last-minute items themselves. Aaron had a handful of stocking stuffers for his two boys; Maria was delighted that her niece, Sophie, would be joining the large family celebration. She was also excited that her new job as a lab technician had finally enabled her to be as generous with her gifts as she’d always been with her 22-year-old heart. Both were oblivious to the nicely-dressed man who waited and watched in front of them.
David watched as the random assortment of items passed across the scanner. The monotone beep of the cash register intruded on the sound of Brenda Lee singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” on the in-store sound system. Lightly touching the end of his items, a pretty red plaid little girl’s dress with a white turtleneck shirt glided across the conveyer belt. With one part of his mind, David could see where this was headed. With another, he was lost in thought as he gazed that the tag that read in bold letters, 4-T. [click to continue…]
They were two branches off the same Vine.
