Parents, are you an angel? I was headed home from a friend's house when the crash on the big green bridge happened. The Summer was waning and I was soon to be headed to South Carolina for college and we wanted to hang out some more, but it had gotten late and it was pouring rain. The rain still couldn't dissuade my Krispy Kreme cravings for “Hot Donuts Now”as I had to drive right by the glass and brick sugar box. The big flashing sign was like an irresistible magnet for my car. The contents of the white and red KK boxes left a delicious sugar/grease film on the bottom from each donut that was lickable after the contents were gone. Inside said boxes were both high sucrose and lipid self-medication for my teenage anxieties/angst AND they also served as a peace offering for my parents as a sugar coated penance for coming home later than usual. But I digress (see June 23 post on KK). I had just gotten 2 new tires for my newly restored ‘67 convertible mustang and the wisdom at the time was to put the new tires on the front of the car. This made for disaster when the slicker rear tires hydroplaned as they hit the expansion joint of the old green steel bridge that spanned the Tennessee river, not far from the convergence of the Holston and the French Broad Rivers. The bridge had long connected Alcoa and Maryville (pronounced Mur-vul) to Knoxville. The baloney skinned rear tires no longer had traction and became like inner tubes floating up the river of water torrenting down the bridge. This sent the back of the car slowly around to overtake the front of the car in a clockwise rotation. When I realized what was happening, instead of turning into the spin like my friend, Driver Ed, had taught me, in my panic I had turned away from the spin, sending Mustang Sally into an uncontrolled vortex. The front left bumper hooked the side of the bridge sending the left side sliding down the bridge, then the rear of the car spun around just enough to make a solid impact, which catapulted it back into the middle of the bridge, coming to rest with half the pony car in the oncoming traffic lane and half in the passing lane. The left side of the car had a smashed headlight so any oncoming traffic would not be able to see it. It was very dark with no street/bridge lights anywhere. As the sound of wet skidding tires and crunching metal became silent, I peered out and saw just one beam of my right headlight shining eerily into the deluge of large reflective water droplets with pitch black beyond. Thank goodness at the time no cars were coming either direction. As it was happening, all I remember is hanging on to the steering wheel for dear life and seeing myself bounce around in the rearview mirror in this pre-seat belt era car. I was unsure what to do as I exited the car, but God had a plan… another car slowly came up to me and the driver asked if I was okay. I told him I thought so. He told me to get in his car, out of the rain, and away from danger. He said he would call the police. This was very strange to me, because very few people had what we called a “car phone,” which, at the time was a big box on the floor connected by a wire with an old fashioned, black banana shaped handset with a mouth and earpiece on the ends. So, we drove to the end of the bridge and pulled over with emergency flashers on. He then called the police on the phone tethered to the black brick on the floor. A wrecker was dispatched. I called my parents with the dreaded phone call… “Dad, I’ve been in a wreck, I’m okay, no one else is involved, but the car is not good”… I was able to tell him where I was and he and mom were there in no time. We found out that my early adopter, cell phone pioneer, mysteriously appearing, angelic rescuer, God messenger, was a pastor, whom we strangely never saw or heard of again, he apparently just happened to be in the area at that moment. Dad had the car towed to our house where it sat in the backyard, three sides smashed as a classic pony car convertible “planter, ‘ as he liked to call it. He finally sold it for scrap and parts when I left for college. I was glad to be alive, but didn’t fully understand what had just happened.
Thursday, October 22, 2020
Parents, Are You An Angel? *Words From COVID 19 quarantine
Monday, October 19, 2020
Parents, Don't Throw the Hook!* Words From Covid 19 quarantine
Parents, don’t throw the hook. When I graduated high school, a wonderful and generous friend of my father was going on an ocean fishing trip to the Bahamas and invited us to go with him and his son. We left West Palm Beach in a fancy 24 foot Mako boat and joined a regatta of about 30 boats toward Walkers Cay, which was about 100 miles East. It would take us about 4 hours to reach the island, which would be our home base for fishing in a Blue Marlin tournament for a couple of days. I love the ocean, but most of my experiences had been close to shore, so this trip was an amazing experience. Once we reached about 12 miles away from shore, we could no longer see land… this was an eerie, slightly agoraphobic feeling, but the regatta with a few larger boats and radios were some comfort. The skies were a beautiful blue and the ocean was an amazing blue-green. At one point we passed an old shipwreck of a vessel run aground, its hulking, rusted ugly hull stood in stark contrast to the beauty of its cerulean resting place. The water was so clear, most of the time you could see all the way to the bottom of the comparatively shallow ocean though you couldn’t always make out what you were seeing. Once, as I was watching the bottom as we travelled at about 22 knots (or about 25 miles per hour for us land lubbers), the whole ocean floor under us was covered with a giant black "something" for a few seconds until it swam another direction. I still don’t know what it was, maybe a giant manta ray or large fish, but whatever it was gave me a vulnerable, “sinners in the hands of an angry Poseidon,” perspective aboard this tiny ship… “the mate was a mighty sailing man, the skipper brave and sure.” (Sorry, too many episodes of Gilligan’s Island!) I had a little thalassophobia, i.e. fear of the sea, its waves, depths and creatures. I began thinking, it would only be by the grace and mercy of God that we would make it to our destination and back. (What great faith it must have taken our forefathers to sail across the entire ocean for days of uncertainty to reach a new world of uncertainty for freedom.) Later, as we began to see our tiny island destination, we all got excited about fishing the next day, about our island stay, and to be back on dry land for a moment. The water was even clearer, so clear you could see conchs 25 feet below at the bottom, and the young local as he swam from the dock to collect it for his dinner. We disembarked and found our lodging. It was so hot that day, I went straight for the pool. It was salt water, so it smelled, felt and looked different, but somewhat refreshing all the same. I took a bounce on the diving board and the salt rusted bolts holding it snapped, sending me into the water with the board hurling in behind me, hitting me on the back. This was a fishing village, not a luxury vacation spot at the time, so pool maintenance was obviously not a big priority. We got some sleep and began fishing early the next morning. We trolled all day in great anticipation of catching a large billfish, but with no luck. The ocean and skies once again, were marvelous. The next day we trolled, but gave up on the Marlin and started bottom fishing at some point. BAM! Something hit my line and took the tip down toward the water unlike any fish I had ever caught in the lakes around my house, one that, for all I knew was big enough to swallow me were I in the water rather than a boat. I began trying to reel, but the fish just unspooled the line like it was nothing and it was a strong deep sea line, with the drag set accordingly. They strapped on the fish fighting belt, and the captain fired up the engine and we chased this fish to get some line back on the reel. Eventually, it was just me and this fish, I wrestled this sea monster for hours and it pulled the boat over a nautical mile. Finally, as we knew that we didn’t want to be out after dark, we tightened the drag and I began to pull and reel with all I was worth, we would either get this fish in the boat or snap the line trying. Just as I thought we may get to see this fish, he threw the hook. We guessed it may have been a large tuna, because of the way it was running and sounding, but we will never know. My Hemingwayesque adventure of the “(young) man and the sea” is one I will never forget...the beauty of the experience, the generosity of our host, the unique and new experiences, and the realization of God's grace and mercy to provide for us keep us safe and in His hands everyday.
Saturday, October 17, 2020
Parents, How Can We Love Big? Words From COVID 19 quarantine*
How can we love big? One staff kid at a former church was the daughter of one of the Administrative Professionals. Though I have permission from her Mom to tell this story, we will call her Addy, so we don’t embarrass this now teenager. The pastors and staff had known Addy from before she was born… I had the privilege of praying for her health, her family and even her eventual salvation at the hospital on the day she was born. All the pastors and secretaries watched each other’s kids grow up and invested in their maturity. We made it a big deal when the kids came to the office. They received words of affirmation, hugs, high fives and candy when they would do something great like get potty trained, do well in school, or be baptized. We encouraged them when they had a bad day. When Addy was about three, she was in the church’s award winning, 5 day a week Child Development Center. I would occasionally go down the hall from my office to the CDC and check on the director and teachers to offer some encouragement, prayer, or just let them know we care about them. One day I was talking with the director in the hall and Addy spotted me from the open door of the classroom. Before the teacher could get to the door, Addy had sprinted out and was headed toward me. One children’s minister I had worked with told me that getting down on a child’s level was a way to let them know you are glad to see them. So, I knelt down to greet her. I was a bit off balance, since I didn’t frequently do deep knee bends, but I thought, surely Addy will slow down before hugging me… nope, she hit me full force with her three year old body, arms open wide, full of joy, in a toddler sprint. She jumped, wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed. I tumbled over like a number seven pin and she was the bowling ball with a healthy topspin, picking up the spare. We both fell over laughing. I felt like a turtle on its back, unable to get up for a moment. The Child Development Director was not laughing so much, it was not something that had ever, and probably would never happen again, in that 3 out of 3 stars Child Development Center… that a child would escape an open door and tackle a pastor in the hallway. I went back to the office and told her mother what had happened. She laughed and said yep, that’s Addy, she loves big! She lives full speed relationally. Wouldn’t it be great if God’s people were all so glad to be with each other, that we gave each other full on topspin-sprint-tackle-hugs? Or the adult relational equivalent to avoid injury and bodily harm? The love Addy felt from her family, the church staff, CDC teachers, the director, church soccer coaches, and her Sunday School teachers is what is she needed to learn and grow. That kind of love is necessary for all of us to learn and grow and mature as humans and as God’s people. Addy was glad to be with those who were glad to be with her. She was glad to know what Christ’s unconditional love was like. She was glad to belong to a group of people who cheered her on. And, though she didn’t always enjoy it at the moment, she was glad when her family, teachers, and friends lovingly corrected her when she was doing something that was not okay. Addy and her family moved to another supportive church a couple of years after the hallway tackle and I learned that she was baptized there about 5 years ago. She had grown in her faith from a simple understanding as a toddler to a realization of what connection with Christ means. She continues to grow in her faith surrounded by people who love her and are glad to be with her.
Faith is between a person and God, but faith is fully lived out in the context of relationships with other people that God loves. Jesus pointed out to His disciples, and lived out in front of them, how important both the vertical relationship with God is, as well as, the horizontal relationships with other Earthlings. The Gospel is not just about what we say we believe, but a healthy relational connection with God and those He loves. Jesus knows that these truths can be easy to forget sometimes, especially when things get difficult and emotions run high. So, He reminds us with these words, “This is my command: Love one another as I have loved you.” John 15:12 Right now in our world, many of us seem to have forgotten Who loves us and that He "commands" us to love each other. We need to be like Addy and love big… greet people with a tackle hug… well maybe it’s not a great idea to topspin-tackle-hug someone, it may be misunderstood... but we can find other ways to love big... like Jesus does us, arms open wide in a full sprint from heaven toward us, bowling us over so our lives are changed by His big love for us.
Hang in there people! God is with us! I’m praying for us all!
Monday, October 12, 2020
Parents, Do You Love Your Work? Words From COVID 19 quarantine
Parents, Do you love your work? At a crucial point in my life, God allowed me to recover from a very challenging ministry by serving a church with a really fun loving staff. We worked hard together, but we also played together. We had group sermon development meetings each week and had lunch together regularly. Staff meetings included a lot of laughter and they were surprisingly more productive when they included a good dose of levity along with prayer and hard work. Church wide IMPROV comedy nights hosted by the staff were hilarious with these creative and very funny staff members. Once, we had a staff football game that included some other people to fill out the teams. It began as a fun game of touch football, but as some games go with a group of energetic people, the intensity escalated shortly into the game… still fun but a bit more competitive. For what would be my last play in that game, I was sprinting down the field (first mistake... sprinting with my less than youthful body) determined to catch the long bomb hurled from a young college man from several yards away (second mistake… lack of awareness of a defender sprinting from across the field to defend). I was looking over one shoulder watching for the perfectly thrown ball, accelerating to catch it, when, from out of nowhere, another younger and obviously faster staff member came up unseen behind me. Just as the ball was about to sail above my outstretched hands, I jumped. As I was air born with my amazing 3 inch vertical jump, he made impact as he left his feet and reached up for the ball too. The ball tipped off our hands and we rolled over and over like a Texas tumbleweed blown by a dust devil. I had no idea what had just happened, but he jumped up laughing. Apparently, that kind of uncontrolled fall was something he enjoyed and often hoped would happen again and again. I was having post traumatic flashbacks of a concussive flag football game in college (see earlier post http://williampmcg.blogspot.com/.../parents-when-we...). This time, there was no concussion, just a very sore body… stove up from head to toe, to remind me of the fun I enjoyed with my friends and fellow staff members. I wouldn’t have traded the fun times, refreshment, and laughter we had at that church. The staff connection God allowed us to enjoy was seemingly infectious with the whole congregation during those years. The church was growing and people were glad to be together. Weekdays and Sundays were a joy. We were able to witness God at work in people’s lives in many wonderful ways.
Friday, October 2, 2020
Parents, What Are You Glad About? Words From COVID 19 quarantine**
Parents, what are you glad about? In grad school at the University of Tennessee, I dated a true Vol fan, who now, by the way, is my wife. Since we were both students at the time, we could get student tickets for the games. One particular game we wanted to see was the Auburn v. Tennessee game. The year before, Tennessee had a horrible year, but this year was very promising with several who would go on to play in the NFL. As game day approached, we secured our tickets, which happened to be in the second student section, which meant the triple nosebleed altitudes of the upper deck. We knew the game would be on television and I considered just watching from the comfort of my parents living room 5 minutes away. I was even more motivated to be a couch potato fan, when we learned that it was supposed to be one of those cold East Tennessee heavy rains that day. The more I whined and complained about not wanting to sit in a puddle for 4 quarters, my girlfriend insisted that we needed to go have the whole stadium in person experience. As a cheerleader at another school in undergrad, I had experienced all kinds of weather cheering my team on the sidelines… the 110 degree scorching heat of an astro turf convection oven, to pouring monsoons and a giant pond to stand in with water dripping off my partner into my eyes as we stunted, and so cold you can’t get warm, icy fingers frozen, playoff games. My least favorite was cold rain, it soaks you to the core, sucks all the heat out of your body, leaves you all wrinkledy like a prune, and cold as a frog on an iceberg…It’s great weather for ducks, because they have a down coat on and water rolls right off… we silly cheer humans only had polyester uniforms on. At least on the sideline, we hyper cheerleaders could jump around and stand close to our partners to keep warm. In the triple nosebleed section of the iconic Neyland Stadium with the rain blowing sideways and only 17 inches of metal bench to sit on, I knew there wouldn’t be a lot of jumping around (but maybe some sitting close to my favorite girl). Auburn was a powerhouse that year and it was one of the biggest games of the season, my blonde beauty reminded me. So, fearing that I would be considered a wet weather wimp and a fair weather fan, I reluctantly decided to go. We found as much rain gear as we could. With everything from hunting all weather gear to trash bags, we made our way to the stadium in the deluge, so much for the fashionable and warm fall outfits that were normally displayed in stadiums around the country. The game began and it was a barnburner. Auburn’s normally dominant defense couldn’t stop Reggie Cobb (but apparently an unfortunate chemical abuse problem could, which he would overcome and play in the NFL for Tampa Bay). The whole game was close, but Tennessee hung on to win, in one of the most memorable exuberant games I had ever experienced and the goal posts were torn down and paraded through campus. That day, it was good to be a Vol with all the other fans who braved the elements, it was good to be in a rain soaked stadium to experience the victory first hand, and it was good to enjoy this memory with my Orange insistent favorite girl.