WOW! What O' Week!
Camps were extremely taxing physically and emotionally this week. I praise God that I have a job which provides a steady reminder of the need for me to fulfill my responsibility as a parent. This week we saw many teens struggling with bitterness toward parents. Though I am unable to share the stories, know that they are many and they are real.
Several times after counseling situations, I went home and just held my kids.
I don’t know whether to blame the old pick up truck or the gravel road, but the drive to the hog buildings was a bumpy one. As Dad and I drove, or bounced, along for a busy day of moving sows, I looked to Dad for some assurance of better times to come. “Dad, what are we going to do when we get everything done?”
Puzzled, Dad asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been doing a lot of work lately, and soon we won’t have anything else to do. What are we going to do with the rest of our lives when the work is all done? Do you think we could move to Disney World?”
With great wisdom, Dad responded, “That sounds nice, but even Disney World would eventually get boring. It doesn’t matter anyway, we’ll always have something to do. We’re farmers, and farmers always have animals to take care of, fences to fix, crops to plant or harvest, roadsides to mow. We’ll always be busy.” Though I was discouraged with Dad’s answer I was confused by what he said next with a satisfying, even comforting, grin, “I kind of like it that way.”
“Daddy, Daddy!” My four-year-old mind spun tirelessly; a world shattering thought crossed my mind and I was going to move heaven and earth to resolve the problem—or at least ask Dad to solve it for me. With alligator tears in my eyes, I wrapped my little arms around Dad. “Daddy! I’m a terrible sinner.”
“Yes.” Dad paused. Looking back, I wonder what waggish thought caused his long pause.
Breaking the silence I proceeded, “I love you more than I love God.”
I’m not quite sure why, but I have never forgotten Dad’s response. It made since to me as a four-year-old, and I’ve often thought through the meaning. Today, I remind college students of this very principal. With super-hero speed, Dad answered, “Son, that’s OK for now. It’s hard for little boys to know how to love God, and that’s why God gave me to you. So that you can learn how to love God.”
Anything is possible. Right? If so, then the Republicans can loose majority in the senate to the Democrats.
Afterall, the D'crats only need to take six seats away from the R'cans.
Benj Buck is the managing editor of SC Headlines.
Oh what a beautiful evening! It took all of seven games but Carolina Canes conquer the coveted cup. Can you believe it?
Throughout the series a hero was born. Twenty-two year old Cam Ward virtually became part , let alone a key part, of the Carolina game plan during the cup series. Just a few weeks ago, Ward was an unproven rookie. Last night he went to bed (maybe) the recipient of the Conn Smythe Trophe for being postseason's MVP.
Photo courtesy of Michael Reed at www.thecemeteryproject.com.
The most influential book I have ever read was A.W. Tozer's THE PURSUIT OF GOD. A.W. Tozer, without any formal higher education, became one of North America's most sought after speakers. Even before his death in 1963, Tozer has been refered to as "A 20th Century Prophet."
Loving, debatably funny, and undeniably courageous. Dad still is my hero. Let's continue the spirit of recognizing dads. I'd like to introduce many of my guests to a truly unique man--David C. Buck.
My Dad, like many other dads, knew how to love even when it hurt. My Dad, like many other dads, had his corny jokes and truly embarassing moments. My Dad, like many other dads, looked in the face of fear itself and laughed. My Dad was like many other dads, but he had his own way of doing it.
To those who knew Dad, here's to the memories. To even more guests who never met my hero, here's to the greatest man you never knew.
Dad died on December 12, 2003, in a farming accident. We miss Dad, but boy did he leave us with a lot of memories. After Dad died, one of my professors encouraged me to journal my memories of Dad. I've finally gotten around to it, and I'd like to share a few of them with you. For several Thursdays I will submit a new story. I hope that through these stories you will see some of the many lessons my Dad gave me.
Photo courtesy of Michael Reed at www.thecemeteryproject.com.
Billy Sunday's body is in the Forest Home Cemetery (Forest Park, IL). Sunday played professional baseball for the Chicago White Stockings, which is now the Cubs. After a night of drinking, Sunday stumbled by the Pacific Garden Mission, where the good news of Jesus Christ was being preached. Sunday accepting Christ as his personal Savior and traveled the country, not as an athlete but an evangelist.
Remember 2000 and all the Florida voting jokes? One highlight for me that year was counting ballots in Gadsden County for the GOP. My time was not extremely exciting, but I did get a chuckle when I saw ballots with votes for George Bush and Joseph Lieberman or Al Gore and Dick Chenney.
To think of a Bush-Lieberman White House isn't nearly as comical as it was in 2000.
We were nearly two miles above earth in a perfectly normal Cessna 182. The door opens and I'm told to get out. I'm tethered to Dave, the jump-master, who has a parachute on his back. Before I can have a single thought, we jump backwards off the plane, then go head first toward the ground, and a brief belly down fall before the chute opened. Dave and I reached an estimated 120 mph in our 5,000 foot free-fall.
Once we reached 6,000 feet, Dave pulled the rip chord, the parachute opened, and sent me deep into my harness. Though it took less than 30 seconds to go the first 5,000 feet, I was able to enjoy a 15 minute float back to the airport. To give you an idea of the view, we were 50 miles away from Greenville. I could see downtown Greenville and even locate a couple buildings. Of course Greenville wasn't the only cool view. I saw the beautiful interweaving of lakes and mountains, the Oconnee Nuclear Plant and dam, and an awesome view of the Clemson campus.
People ask questions like, "Were you scared?" I only had one moment of fear, which came at 5,000 feet when another diver jumped out. I was able to look out the door, see the tiny houses below, and then watch this guy let go of the plane. I thought, "Your crazy, man." Then I thought, "Wait, I'm next only higher up; I'm crazy, man."
People also ask if I'd do it again. I don't even have to hesitate to answer. You bet I would.
I love it when people ask about how I snuck this one by Laurie. I didn't. She snuck it by me. She knew that I had a desire to jump every since I was a kid. She arranged the jump for my 30th birthday.
I'll be sure to let you know about the next big venture.
I'm going skydiving (tandum), and will be sure to tell you about the experience on Monday.
My wife is awesome. While some would never let their husbands jump out of an airplane, mine pushes me out. She's giving this experience to me for my 30th birthday.
To my friends at Pineridge, congratulations on your first journey of summer camps. Hopefully, this will be the first of many years to come.
Hey, friends of the family, can you find my mom in this picture?
