Which sports teams were you a fan of as a child?

 From my Storyworth collection

This is kind of a funny question to answer. Both as a child as an adult, my “favorite” sports teams have pretty much been those of family. Ever since I can remember, my parents have been fans of the Dallas Cowboys, so much so that they call them by their first names when they yell at them on the TV! As a child, the Cowboys were my “favorite team”…I think I even had a pair of Dallas Cowboy pajamas at one point.

My family watched a lot of professional football, so growing up (in high school), I had a fairly decent a knowledge and players. Somewhere along the way, I chose the Washington Redskins as my favorite football team and actually had a Redskins sweatshirt. When I went to college outside of Chicago, I rooted for the Chicago Bears as well.

When I got to college, we did not have a TV in our room, and I was not a big fan of going down into the lounge to watch anything on the community TV. School and homework kept me busy, and I pretty much lost touch with who played for which team, etc. After that, I was never really a football fan again.

And then, in 1993 I met this crazy chick, fell in love and got married. This girl grew up playing softball and watched all kinds of sports (golf, baseball, college and pro football). Brooke is a HARD-CORE Alabama fan, so my college team of choice is, of course, Alabama. Besides wanting to support my wife, I have noticed that post game time around the house is MUCH happier when the Crimson Tide wins, so yet another reason to cheer for Alabama. The same goes for pro football. My wife was a 49ers fan when Joe Montana played there and then she converted to a Kansas City Chiefs fan (and has remained so to this day) when Montana moved there.

Brooke and I were grocery shopping today and this guy told me he liked my shirt. I bought myself this shirt I am not sure how many years ago, but it is still true today! I don’t care that much about sports, but I do LOVE my wife!

When did you get your first car?

 From my Storyworth collection

I got my first car as a graduation present…I think (1987). It was my dad’s “classic car” that he was so proud of. It was our old family car, a 1972 Chevy Impala convertible. One of the first places I remember driving it was to Steamboat Days (annual fair) on the river in Burlington, Iowa. The Beach Boys came to town, so I drove my friend Matt and myself to the concert. We put the top down and drove into town playing my Beach Boys cassette tape using an 8-track adapter in the car’s stereo!

This is not a picture of my actual car, but this is the 1972 Chevy Impala convertible, and it is the color of our car (although the paintjob on ours was more faded). The car was HUGE and huge gas guzzler.

I could not afford the gas and so my parents bought a 1980-something Ford Escort from a family at church in Burlington. I had a couple interesting stories with this car. This was my first stick shift, so I practiced driving it up and down our country roads until I was comfortable with the clutch. One of my first trips into town was to the library in downtown Burlington on a BIG hill. I pulled into a parking space going uphill so that when it was time to leave, I could push in the clutch and brake, put car in first gear, leave the clutch in and let off the brake so it would coast back out of my space. I could then brake and let the clutch out pulling forward and not have to focus on shifting the car into first gear since it was a BIG hill, and I was not really comfortable with a stick shift yet. My plan fell apart when somebody was standing next to the car to my right, waiting for me to back out so they could get in their car. I nervously put the car in reverse and back out, braked, quickly threw the car into gear and tried to pull off (going uphill). The car almost died, so I pushed in the clutch and hit the brake. I tried again and car bogged down, about ready to die. All this time, the person getting into their car was watching me and I was beginning to panic. Finally, I revved the car WAY up and was able to pull out going up the hill. The car still bogged down, but I made it. When I shifted into second gear, the car LEAPT to life! In my nervousness, I had thrown the car into third gear instead of first gear leaving my parking space. No wonder it kept trying to die and I had to rev the engine so much to make it!

Again, this is not an actual picture of my car, but mine was similar and it was tan. One day I noticed a couple rust spots on my hood, so I stopped by the auto supply store and bought some “tan” paint. I’m not sure what I was thinking, I guess “Tan car, buy ‘tan’ paint.” I had no clue about color matching, so I sanded the rust spots and applied several generous spots of primer paint. It looked pretty bad, but I wasn’t worried since I had purchased the tan paint. I covered the primer with the ‘tan’ spray paint I bought. When it dried, I had a concept of the importance of color matching! I ruined the paint job on my car. Fortunately, Dad was kind enough to do a business trade with a guy who ran an auto paint shop, so my car was soon repainted a very cool looking dark tan with gold flecks in it. It looked like a new car!

This is the car I drove to college in Kankakee, IL. My last memory with this car was when it had to go into the shop because it quit on my on the way to church one Wednesday night. I don’t remember all the details, but my church paid to have it towed to the shop of an auto repair place owned by a guy in the church. It appeared my newly discovered speed shifting skills were NOT good for my car. I am not sure what broke, but the church paid the guy at the shop what must have been a heavily discounted rate. He let me know it was a LOT of work to replace the broken part, it cost a LOT more than he charged and my speed shifting was NOT a good idea. I learned my lesson and took better care of my car after that.

Did you have any serious accidents as a child?

 From my Storyworth collection

The first serious accident of my life I only remember hearing about because I was so young when it happened, but I still carry the scar today. I had to have been less than two years old, and I understand that I found an extension cord which I put in my mouth. The crazy thing is, whatever was plugged into the extension cord was not plugged in all the way and I touched my lip to the exposed plug. I do not know all of the details of what happened, but I know it burned away part of my lip (in the very corner where my top and bottom lips meet on the right side of my mouth) and I must have had quite the scab for a while. As if this was not enough excitement for my parents, a very short time later (while my lip was still trying to heal), I fell in the bathtub. Dad was giving me a bath while Mom was at work. I guess he either stepped out of the bathroom briefly or just turned his head, but somehow, I first stood up and then slipped and fell, hitting my already-busted-open lip on the faucet. I understand that my lip then became the faucet, and I was bleeding…a LOT. For some reason, Dad thought running cold water over my cut would make it stop bleeding so that is what he was trying to do when Mom came home from work. Fortunately, Mom’s nursing/first aid skills knew I needed pressure on the wound, so she applied pressure and my lip eventually quit bleeding. Again, I’m too young to remember this, but my understanding is that the bathtub incident could have ended very badly.

On these next two, I’m not sure which came first, but I don’t think chronological order matters. Our family took several family vacations to Horn Creek family camp in Colorado and one of their activities was horseback riding. I only vaguely remember going for the ride. I both liked it and I was scared. I rode behind one of my parents, I don’t remember which it was, but at some point, the horse shied, and I fell off. I roughly remember sitting under a tree or along the trail for a while and then I guess we went back to the lodge. I do not have very vivid memories of this time, but I am told I complained of back pains after that. Some years later (again, I am told, I do not really remember), I attended a prayer meeting with Mom. I was prayed for, and Mom said I described having a warm feeling. I think she assumed that the Lord had healed my heart condition, but it turns out my back was healed at that prayer meeting, and I did not complain about back pains after that.

I got another scar as a young child around the time I was 3 years old. Mom and I went over to a friend’s house and I was told that their dog just had puppies, so I should stay out of the garage where they were being kept. My friend wanted to get something out of the garage, and I knew better than go in, but I stood by the door as he was preparing to go in. When he opened the door, I peered in, and the mother dog leapt out and bit me on the nose. Mom said panicked when she heard me screaming. Mom, ever the nurse, told her friend not to worry, she could tell by my screams that I was running to her. This is the dog bite where I rubbed my nose on the couch to avoid scratching the itch while my mom was on the phone with the doctor (read previous story for details).

When I was in preschool, I was running in a parking lot while wearing cowboy boots. Because the soles were slick, I fell and busted out my front tooth. Mom took me to the dentist, and I had to have the root of the tooth removed. It was a baby tooth that would have fallen out naturally not too much later, so I was just front toothless a short time longer than natural. I don’t think it was a serious deal, but that is where my “million-dollar tooth” (as I now call it) began. First, I busted out my baby tooth, then my permanent tooth grew in. In the 4th grade, I busted out the same tooth while swinging around a basketball goal. That tooth was temporarily capped I believe. Later I had a root canal and crown. I got braces in high school and at some point, I got my dead tooth filed down, and cap put on it so that the dead, gray top part of my tooth no longer showed. As an adult, this crown came lose. The dentist tried to glue it back on, but it did not go on right and I appeared to have a “giant tooth”. This made me very self-conscious, so I eventually had it repaired. In just a couple of years’ time, I had to have another root canal (along with the tooth next to that one). I was still having problems, so I had to have an apicoectomy which is basically a root canal on the top tip of your tooth’s root and then I had a “permanent” crown put on. That went bad, too, and I eventually had to have the tooth pulled and replaced with a bridge. All that work, over time = “million-dollar tooth”!

Since I’m sharing accidents that weren’t really serious now, just a couple more. When I was six years old there was a neighborhood cat that hung around. He was friendly most of the time which is why I had no problem petting him when he showed up in driveway and laid down for me to pet him. I now know it was NOT a good idea to try rubbing his belly. He grabbed my wrist with his front paws and scratched the SNOT out of my arm with his back legs. I just remember it was all very painful and took a while to heal.

I remember having to get stitches twice in Jr. High and High School. One time our Uncle Don was visiting, and my sister and I were playing in the back yard. The rule was no playing outside when our parents were gone (a safety thing), but since Uncle Don was there, I reasoned it was OK to play catch in the back yard while my parents were out square dancing. The ball went under a three-beam-fence, so I ran up to the fence and rolled under it to get the ball. Turns out there was a quarter of an acorn shell, with a very sharp point, on the ground right where my knee hit. Needless to say, my parents were not thrilled to come home from square dancing to take me to get stitches when we weren’t supposed to be outside in the first place.

The last story is also about getting stitches…on my 17th birthday. While Mom was in the kitchen cooking my birthday meal, I was sharpening a pocketknife on a sharpening stone. The knife slipped (newly sharpened) and sliced open my thumb. I was not serious, but I was pretty sure it would require stitches. I went in to show Mom and as I walked into the kitchen here response was, “Oh Rob, I was trying to surprise you with your birthday meal.” I apologized and told her I was pretty sure she would need to see this, and so I went to the hospital for stiches on my 17th birthday.

How have your political opinions changed over time?

 From my Storyworth collection

This question doesn’t seem as exciting as some that I have answered so far, but I guess if there’s a new question every week, they can’t all be exciting, right?

The first time I remember being aware of politics was when I was six years old and living in San Diego, CA (1976). I didn’t understand much of anything, but I knew it was election time for the President of the United States and my parents voted for Gerald Ford over Jimmy Carter, so I wanted Gerald Ford to “win”. Not only did he not win, but reading history now as an adult, I don’t think our country won in that election, either!

The first time I remember thinking politically was in 1988. The Sunday School teacher of the class I attended was very patriotic and quite political. That year, evangelist Pat Robertson was one of several who ran for the Republican nomination for President. I was taking a political science class in junior college where we had the option of writing a paper or volunteering for a political candidate. I volunteered for Pat Robertson’s campaign. My Sunday School teacher had converted part of his lawnmower shop and used it as a local campaign volunteer center. I spent a several hours there making phone calls encouraging residents of our Iowa county to attend their local meeting to vote.

I did not and do not fully understand the Iowa caucus process (furthermore, I do not know if it is the same today or not). When we were voting for a candidate to represent our party (the Republican party), we went to a person’s home near us. (There was a name for these meetings, but I cannot remember what it was.) Everybody was allowed to make a “speech” as to why their choice should be the party’s candidate. After that, we voted. I do not remember who got the most votes from our group, but it was not Pat Robertson. My understanding is, somebody from our group went to the caucus and cast a vote for the candidate our group voted for. These votes are the ones that determined our party’s nomination from the state of Iowa.

Because I was taking a political science class and because I was volunteering for a candidate, this was the first time I paid real attention to an election. I remember my political science teacher was not a conservative (liberal/conservative are labels I use now, but at the time I just knew he thought about most political issues differently than I did). As I mentioned in a previous post, back then students were allowed to have different opinions. When my professor heard I was volunteering for the Robertson campaign, he said he would like to hear more about Robertson, what I saw in him, etc., so he invited me to his office one day after school. The climate then was SO much different than it is now. My professor was a PhD and obviously would have been able to talk circles around any thoughts a freshman-just-starting-to-think-politically could express, but he asked questions, listened and was very respectful of my simple, incomplete answers. I remember sharing with him my observation about liberal bias in the media. He, of course, did not agree with my observations. As an adult living in today’s political culture, I am in shock of how kind and respectful my professor was to my conservative political opinions. At that time in my life, I was still forming and trying to understand my own political views so I’m sure my arguments were pretty weak (to put it kindly), yet Dr. Fryer showed me the utmost respect.

Sometime during college, I discovered Rush Limbaugh on the radio. I did not listen regularly, but when I did hear him, I remember thinking everything he said “made sense” to me. Around the time Bill Clinton became President, I was listening to Rush Limbaugh enough to know what was going on politically and I was a definitely a conservative. I think back then I would just have called myself a Republican. I now refer to myself as a conservative because issues are more important than party to me (but yes, the Republican party is the one closest to my conservative beliefs and opinions).

I have voted Republican every election since I was old enough to vote. I became more “serious” in politics when George W Bush became President. When President Obama was elected to office and I saw how he divided America, my conservative political opinions became much stronger. This man had a unique opportunity to draw our nation together racially, but instead, he used his opportunity to RIP OPEN a divide in our country that continues to this day.

My strong opposition to President Obama and my strong support of President Trump, led by my conservative beliefs (shaped by my faith) led to a very tight bond (in my mind) between my faith and my politics. I was unashamedly Christian and Republican because I believed that the Republican party platform most closely aligned with biblical values. This led to political posts on social media, and, for a while, I was of the outspoken opinion that Christians should be involved in politics (as Republicans, of course) because our form of government and the freedoms it gave us was a gift from God. As good stewards (both American stewards and Christian stewards), we should treasure and defend the gift God gave us.

During this time, several people in our church were very political…some from both sides of the aisle. I had several discussions with church friends who had differing political opinions than mine, but I started to notice that my political opinions and discussions made me like certain people less. When I would see them on a Sunday morning, my first thought would be of their political opinions, and I did not love them as Christ called us to love one another. Not long after this, some people left our church because their political opinions did not match those of the majority of our church. WOW…what a failure on my part and on our church’s part!

The tragedy of people leaving our church opened my eyes. I was personally convicted even though I am sure these people would say I was not one who ran them off. As I began to repent before God, I realized how many, including myself, used politics to judge others. Not only that, but if this ran Christians out of our church, how did we ever hope to make our church a welcoming place for unchurched people who would likely have different political opinions? How could we tell them about Jesus if we were making “correct” political opinions a requirement for friendship and acceptance? That is pretty much the opposite of the world knowing us by our love!

Because of this, I have stopped making political comments on social media and I do not engage with others who do. First of all, I want EVERYBODY to know Jesus and if my politics keep people from hearing me talk about Jesus…well, I just don’t need to talk about politics. Secondly, I have yet to see one single person change their mind during or after an online political debate. For me, I have to choose between loving all people and having political discussions/debates. I choose to love people.

The older I get, the more conservative I get in my political beliefs and sometimes it is hard for me to keep quiet in public discussions. But the more I see the brokenness in our fallen world, the more I want people to meet Jesus. My hope for our world lies in Jesus, not in a man-made political party. In a culture that is SO divided, I choose to try finding common ground with people and showing them respect, love and, most of all, Jesus.

What was your mom like when you were a child?

 From my Storyworth collection

When I think about my mom and how she raised me, I think of two things: 1) it seems like she had a plan from the very beginning to help me succeed as an adult and 2) she had a love for animals which she has passed along to me.

Helping Me Succeed as an Adult

Mom says I was an early talker, and she attributes that to talking to me from a very young age, and not talking to me like a baby. Mom always explained things to me simply so that I could understand whether it was teaching me how to do something new, the consequences of my actions or how to think for myself. I remember two humorous situations where I thought through things for myself and although I put some serious thought into it (as a 3–4-year-old), I came to the wrong conclusion. I remember one day Mom did something nice for me. I don’t remember what it was, but I did not thank her for it. Her exact words to me were, “You did not say thank you, kiss my foot or anything.” Even at 3 years old, I realized that I should have been more appreciative, but I did not know there was more than one way to say, “thank you”. Since I had messed up, I chose the ‘new way of saying thank you’ and I replied, “Kiss my foot.” I honestly thought I was just saying “thank you” a different way, but it took me about a second and half of reading Mom’s face to realize I messed up again. Fortunately, Mom could tell by the look on my face I did not know what I had said, and she asked me, “Do you know what ‘kiss my foot’ means?” It was explained to me that day (in simple language a 3-year-old could understand), and I never chose that ‘thank you alternative’ again.

The second humorous instance I remember honestly trying to do the right thing (while solving a problem at the same time) was when I was bitten by the neighbor’s dog, which opened up the skin on the front of my nose. While calling the doctor, Mom clearly explained, “Do NOT scratch your nose” because that would further open the wound. As Mom was describing to the doctor what happened and asking if I needed to go see him, my nose really itched. I knew I was not supposed to scratch my nose, AND I knew that the itch would go away if I rubbed my nose along the embroidery on the back of our couch (scratching was using my hand, so this did not count as scratching). By the way my mother yelled at me, I again quickly figured out, despite my best efforts to be obedient and solve a problem at the same time, rubbing my nose with the couch to make it stop itching was NOT acceptable. I have a scar on my nose demonstrating both that scratching my nose would make it scar and that scars on a man are sexy! (LOL)

Mom also taught me to respect others whether it was being kind to kids my age or looking an adult in the eyes and speaking when being spoken to. The rule at our house was, if they were 10 years older than me and my sister, we called them Mr. or Miss/Mrs.

When I was in high school, I attended an ACE school (stands for Accelerated Christian Education), and our education was self-paced. We literally had PACEs (self-study, magazine-like books) where you read, answered questions and self-tested. At the end of each PACE, you were given a written test. Generally speaking, the expected accomplishment for each grade (to graduate on time) was 12 PACEs in each subject. Ideally this would put you at PACE 144 when you graduated, but if you tested below your grade level when you came into the school (almost everybody tested low in math and I think I was low in English when I came in, too) you would have to do extra work to get to PACE 144 by graduation. Because I was college bound, I needed to be at PACE 144 in all of my subjects. I think I was motivated like most high school students, and I was doing what was required of me, but nothing more. This pace would not get me to PACE 144 in all of my subjects, so Mom had a difficult conversation with me sometime during my junior year. It was difficult because she pretty much said, “I don’t care what your excuses are, you are going to have to do extra work at get to PACE 144 in all of your subjects.” I did not like it, I probably didn’t think it was “fair”, but I learned how to look at what had to be done, break it down into doable steps, and get it done. I planned how many PACEs I needed each quarter, how long I had to complete each one, how much I needed to complete each day at school and how much I needed to complete as homework. I did 15-20% more than the required PACEs my junior and senior years, and I completed my goal (with a good GPA). Not only did this prepare me for college academically, but this taught me to set goals, organize myself and excel both in college and in future jobs.

This was me tickling Mom and her “defense move” (maybe THIS is why I have that scar on my nose!)

This picture was taken around my senior year in 1987.

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Speaking of being prepared for college, Mom also made sure I was prepared for life on my own. I did not have to cook for myself in college (thanks to a cafeteria plan), but I knew how to prepare simple meals and could cook for myself. I also knew how to wash clothes, make a bed (complete with hospital corners thanks to Mom’s nursing background) and keep my room clean. When I got married, my wife did not have to pick up after me or care for me like a kid.

Which brings me to another area where Mom helped prepare me for life…how to treat my wife. I’m still a guy and have had my fair share of “dumb guy moments”, but from the time I was old enough to understand, Mom spent time explaining to me how women think and feel different than men. At age 53, I still do not have this all figured out, but I entered into marriage understanding my wife will not see the world as I do, and if I want her to feel loved, I’m going to have to take that into account when I act. Brooke and I have been married 29 years this year and I attribute much of our making it through the first years to the things my mom taught me.

My Love for Animals

I think I will save a list of all the animals I had growing up for a separate post, but I will say we always had animals growing up because Mom was an animal lover. I’m not sure people (i.e., your parents) can make you an animal lover, I think the animals themselves do that. But when you are raised by an animal lover who takes good care of the animals, I think that’s highly likely to rub off on you. I appreciate that I not only got to experience being around a lot of different kinds of pets growing up, but Mom also taught me how to care for them not just when it was ‘fun’, but every day like their lives depended on me. I learned not to forget to keep water in the dog’s bowl by going half a day without water! I know, this would probably be considered ‘child abuse’ today. I don’t remember thinking of was going to die of thirst (so it may not have been a literal half day), but I do remember ‘lesson learned’. Pets really do depend on us for everything, and I’m glad my mom taught me how to care for them.

This was an article the local newspaper ran on Mom (a.k.a. “Nona” thanks to the reporter's typo) and her pet skunk, Tobias

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Mom loved her cats. This was 2 of the 26 cats (literally) we had when we lived in the country in Iowa.

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Mom Through the Various Stages of Life

When I was little, she was Mommy who loved and cared for me. In elementary school, she taught me how to learn and be respectful of others. In junior high, she taught me how to care for myself and learn the skills I would need for life. In high school, she taught me to set goals, challenge myself and work hard to achieve those goals. In college and Bible college, she supported me, and I image prayed a lot for me. After I married, she listened a lot and had advice when asked.

Now that I’m older (and she’s even OLDER!), I have the opportunity to care for her like she did for me. Caring for a parent is not like caring for a kid and being cared for by your kid is not something that comes naturally when you’re used to being self-sufficient. We’re still working it out, but we have a lot of years of LOVE behind us and we’re figuring it out as we go along. She has been there for me all of these years so I will definitely be there for her. Ha! I bet she’s glad now that she invested all of that time into helping me become a decent adult who loves and respects others and knows how to accept responsibility!

Mom and me at Amanda and Canaan’s wedding (2018)

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Mom and me grabbing lunch at Steak and Shake (2019)

What has your Jesus journey been like?

 From my Storyworth collection

No sharing of my life’s stories would be complete without sharing about my Jesus journey. My relationship with Jesus is a journey that started when I was a child, is currently ongoing and will not end until I see my Jesus face to face.

Like all of us, I was created to have a relationship with God. I am thankful that my journey began at a young age. I grew up in a Christian home going to church. I remember one day at our church in San Diego (around 1976, age 6) the teacher talked about God’s love for us and Jesus dying for our sins. She asked if anybody wanted to ask Jesus into their hearts. I clearly remember thinking, as a 6-year-old, “I’ve heard this story before, and I believe it, but I have never responded.” That day, I raised my hand, asked Jesus for forgive me of my sin and come into my heart.

I grew up in Sunday School, so I learned all of the Bible stories. I learned them and I believed them. I don’t remember a whole lot more about my spiritual journey until 6th grade. We moved from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to Burlington, Iowa. I don’t know if it was moving out of the Bible Belt or moving into Jr. High (6-8th grade was Jr high), but there was a major shift in the atmosphere at my new school. There were not many Christian kids in my school. I knew Jesus but was not really sold out for Him, so I struggled but did not really turn to Him for help. It was a MISERABLE year for me.

As my 7th grade year was approaching, my parents asked me about attending the Christian school in town. We (my parents, my sister and I) checked it out and both my sister and I were enrolled. We attended Burlington Christian School and First Assembly in Burlington (the church that hosted the school). Those six years from 7th grade to graduation were so good for my Christian faith…a real foundation was laid.

Another significant milestone in my journey happened during this time when I was in the 10th grade. One Sunday night I was at church with my girlfriend (we both played trumpet during worship on Sunday nights from time to time) and the teaching was about being filled with the Holy Spirit. My girlfriend went to the front to be prayed for, so I went and stood behind her to pray for her (I am not sure why I did that…it was God). Next thing I knew as they were coming down the line praying for people, I started praying in tongues. I was standing BEHIND the prayer line, nobody laid hands on me, and nobody prayed for me, but the Holy Spirit filled me that night.

The next big step in my spiritual journey was my freshman year in college. I attended the junior college in Burlington, and I remember a discussion about abortion in one of my classes. The professor and the class were not Christian nor pro-life, but back then diverse opinions were allowed. I was asked why I felt abortion was wrong and I knew the “answer” was because it killed the baby. I was then asked, “What about… (this and that hypothetical situation, difficulty, etc.)”. I had no answer because in my Christian school, I had been taught all the Christian “answers”. It’s not that the answers were wrong, but very quickly I figured out I had learned to parrot the answers, but I had not wrestled with the questions for myself. That year of junior college was another year of great spiritual growth as I learned to understand why I believed what I believed, to own my faith and to be bold sharing it with others.

My sophomore-senior years in college were spent in Kankakee, IL. When I arrived at Olivet Nazarene University, it was never a question of “if” I would go to church, I just had to find one. It was the first time I ever had to find a church on my own. I went one week to the campus Nazarene church, and it was not really for me. The next week I went to the other Nazarene church in town and although it was freer in worship, it still did not feel like “home”. Before the Internet, you had to use a phone book to find a church. I don’t remember what “label” I looked up, but I found Peoples Church and decided to visit there. That church was definitely a God appointment! Because the University in town was a Nazarene university, most students were Nazarene and attended those churches. I was pretty much the only college age kid at Peoples Church, and they not only welcomed me but very soon adopted me. I LOVED that church family!

Not long after beginning to attend the church, I heard about a meeting regarding the youth ministry and an invitation for anybody who wanted to help. I went to the meeting, listened to the need and offered to provide rides for students needing a ride to or from the church. I remember going home that night, very excited at the thought of helping with the youth ministry and telling God, “Lord, if there is anything else you want me to do besides giving rides, I will do it.” Two days later I got a phone call from the volunteer at the church who was going to lead the newly formed youth ministry. He said, “I volunteered to do this because I love students and our church does not have a youth ministry, but my work schedule keeps me very busy. I will be there on Wednesday nights, but would you consider leading the youth meetings?” I hardly had time to process this when I heard the Lord say, “You offered. There ya’ go.” And so started my time in youth ministry.

As the Lord began to lead me in this ministry, I remembered back to a convention I had attended during high school with my Christian school. One night during the convention, an altar call was given for vocational ministry. I responded feeling the Lord was calling me into ministry, but it was odd because I never thought about it too much after that night. I had never questioned what kind of ministry and I did not plan a career in ministry. It is almost as if I responded that night and did not think about it again until the Lord reminded me of it as I was in the midst of starting youth ministry.

For three years I served in the youth ministry at Peoples Church leading the Wednesday night youth service, helping with youth Sunday, going on youth outings and taking kids on retreats. As graduation was approaching my senior year, Pastor Terry called me into his office for a meeting. He asked me my plans for the future, and I told him I wanted to attend Bible college and be a youth pastor. He talked to me about a Bible college in Chicago, offered some tuition help and a position at the church as youth pastor. As he was talking, the conversation playing in my heart and in my head was, “This is absolutely my DREAM scenario.” I was familiar with that Bible school, I LOVED Peoples Church and that is where I wanted to serve. But at the same time, I knew that was not the Lord’s plan for me. I told Pastor Terry I was flattered and could think of nothing I would rather do, but I would have to pray about it because I sensed the Holy Spirit was leading me in another direction. I did not know what that other direction was, but I knew, and I trusted Him. I was sad, but I knew God had another plan.

As God closed that door, He opened the door for me to attend Christ for the Nations. I moved to Dallas, began attending classes and looking for a local church internship as youth pastor. I was offered a position at one church but knew that was not what God had for me. I met with Brad Howard, the director of the youth program a CFNI and asked for counsel. Should I intern at a big church and gain experience there or look for a small church to lead the youth ministry? Brad encouraged me to find a church where I could lead the youth ministry, so I did. A friend invited Brooke and I (I will save the story of “How I met your mother” for its own post) to attend the church where our friend worked in the nursery. Brooke and I liked the church (Trinity New Life Fellowship) and as I tell people “It just so happened” that they were looking for a youth pastor. Pastor David took me under his wing and mentored me in ministry. Brooke and I were married at the church, I volunteered as youth pastor, was brought on part-time, and then went full-time as secretary and youth pastor when our secretary got married and left. Sometime later I was able to go on as full-time youth pastor until 2002 when my heart for ministry changed and I became the administrative pastor at the church where I still serve today (now called Vine Fellowship).

Sometime during the mid-nineties, some of our staff attended a prayer conference. I was not that excited about it, but it was a staff thing, so I went. It was here that I was introduced to the idea of prayer journaling. After salvation and being filled with the Holy Spirit, this ranked as the next biggest thing in my personal relationship with the Lord. I had prayed most all of my life and I knew God heard me, but I never was really able to say, “This is what God said to me today” before that conference. I was taught to write down my prayer to the Lord and then ask, “Lord, what would you say to me?” either with a specific question or in a general sense. Then, as soon as thoughts started coming, write them down. Don’t pause. Don’t analyze, just write. The basic premise was, “God speaks to us through our thoughts, so ask Him to speak and then write down what comes to you.” After you have written down what you heard, THEN it is ok to analyze and judge the word. It is ok to read it to a friend or spiritual leader and ask, “Does this sound like God to you?”, especially if the word gives some sort of direction. I think the biggest take-away from learning how to do this is how GREAT God’s love is for me. I have always been so hard on myself, but God is not. When I mess up, I write out my prayer and repent. God’s answer is usually something along the lines, “Yes, that was wrong, and you know it. Don’t’ do it again. I forgive you and love you, now let’s move on and do this…” I do not take my sin lightly and neither does God, but He doesn’t beat me over the head with confessed sin. He acknowledges and accepts my repentance, forgives me and then shows me where to go from there. I can pray without journaling, but I have found nothing that makes it easier for me to hear God speaking to me than through what I call “two-way prayer journaling”.

Lastly, two other significant steps in my spiritual journey. I will cover them briefly because I cannot point to a specific time as when these steps happened. They happened over time and were not related to any particular event other submitting my heart to Jesus. The first step has to do with loving people. My personality, ever since I was started testing and analyzing it in my college psych classes, has always been task oriented. I did not dislike people, but I found that people could be a hinderance when I had a task that needed to be done. Even in ministry it meant, “I don’t have time for people, I have a job to do.” Over the years, even though I am still task-driven, the Lord has given me a LOVE for people. I used to be uncomfortable with people one-on-one, but now I enjoy meeting new people and having the luxury of sitting down with them and hearing their story. I love to hear people’s story.

And the most recent step in my spiritual journey (which has been taking place over the past SEVERAL years) is my falling in love with Jesus in a new way. Besides being task oriented, I was also very legalistic. Because I loved Jeus, I tried to follow all of the rules. It’s still in my nature to be a rule-follower, but in my walk with the Lord, I now focus on giving my heart to Jesus. When He has my heart, when I fully love Him, my actions will follow. In the midst of this learning process, the Lord gave me this prayer during my journaling time. It has become my life’s prayer: “Help me to keep in step with the Holy Spirit so that I might bring honor to Jesus and a smile to the Father’s face.” I can tear up just thinking about bringing a smile to my Father’s face…there is nothing I want more.

I will close with my three life verses and the lyrics to the song that has become my heart’s cry.

“Now without faith it is impossible to please God, since the one who draws near to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” ~Hebrews 11:6 (NLT). I will be one who seeks Him!

“We cared so much for you that we were pleased to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us. ” ~1 Thes. 2:8 (CSB). This is my ministry life verse.

“Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way. The Lord be with you all. ” ~2 Thes. 3:16 (NET). This is a blessing the Lord gave me specifically for officers any time I get to share with them. I also have the privilege of speaking this blessing over our congregation each Sunday as we are dismissed.

Lastly, I will end with the words to the song “Lifesong” by Casting Crowns. If I were to put the cry of my heart into words, this is what it would be:

Empty hands held high

Such small sacrifice

Not joined with my life

I sing in vain tonight

May the words I say

And the things I do

Make my lifesong sing

Bring a smile to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

I want to sign your name

To the end of this day

Lord led my heart was true

Let my lifesong sing to you

Lord I give my life

A living sacrifice

To reach a world in need

To be your hands and feet

So may the words I say

And the things I do

Make my lifesong sing

Bring a smile to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

I want to sign your name

To the end of this day

Lord led my heart was true

Let my lifesong sing to you

Hallelujah, Hallelujah let my lifesong sing to you

Hallelujah, Hallelujah let my lifesong sing to you

Hallelujah, Hallelujah let my lifesong sing to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

Let my lifesong sing to you

I want to sign your name

To the end of this day

Lord led my heart was true

Let MY lifesong sing to you

What were your favorite toys as a child?

 From my Storyworth collection

One of my favorite toys that I think about often from my early childhood was a kid’s toy jukebox that played Disney songs. You pushed a button, and it supposedly found the song on the cylinder inside and played it (I think it had a needle and read the cylinder similar to a record player). I mostly just remember that I liked it and that Dad spent a lot of time trying to repair it/make it work like it was supposed to. I don’t remember how long I had it, but I remember liking it a lot.

As a young child I also had a teddy bear that I liked. It had short arms that stuck out to the front of it allowing my toy handcuffs fit on him perfectly. He was my cops and robbers partner and was always the bad guy. I would punch him sending him flying across the room then wrestle him to the ground and handcuff him.Speaking of playing cops and robbers, I also LOVED various dart guns that I had. Why can’t kids get these anymore?? I had one that looked exactly like this, and I had a toy .357 Magnum dart gun that actually shot hard enough you would know you had been hit! There may have been a cat or two that was “hunted” with these when my parents were gone from the house.

I also had (have!) a red Tonka fire truck. I say had/have because Mom kept it for me, I still had it as an adult, and we gave it away to Amanda’s friend Brian when they were little kids. When Amanda grew up and had a son, Brian’s mom returned it us for our grandson to play with, so it’s gone through 3 generations now.

The bike Dad fixed up for me (see “What was your Dad like growing up?” post for details) was one of my all-time favorites!

The last “toy” that really sticks out in my mind was the Atari 2600. Our family went through a time where we did not trick-or-treat on Halloween, but we would go downstairs into our walk-out basement, board up with windows (so as to not be bothered by other trick-or-treaters) and play games as a family. The first year we started this (around 1981), my parents bought us the Atari. We kept it for many years.

What was your dad like as a child?

From my Storyworth collection

One of my earliest memories (age 3-4?) was of Dad building his glider and working on it in the garage and driveway. The glider port, I think, was not too far across the street at the top of the hill near our house. I vaguely remember what must have been my first glider ride, some from my perspective and some from the story as Dad told it. Dad says it was a beautiful day with plenty of lift which would make for a long flight. I guess he told me if I felt sick to let him know and we would land. According to Dad’s story, I told him I was feeling sick, so he very SLOWLY headed back to the airport since it was such a beautiful day to fly. I guess I had been around my dad and gliders enough to know there was a spoiler on the wing, which if pulled, would make you descend more quickly. When we were not coming down fast enough, I asked Dad about the spoiler, and he reluctantly pulled it and brought us in for a landing after a short flight (on a beautiful day). Like I said, I only remember this event vaguely, but I’m pretty sure I remember saying I was feeling sick to my stomach only because I was scared looking out the window and I wanted to get back on the ground. Sorry Dad!

I remember going to Dad’s optical lab. I *think* there were some days when I was in preschool that I had to go to work with Dad for a short time before getting dropped off or picked up and taken to school. I just remember eating cereal in the morning at his work. When I was 6 years old, we moved to San Diego. Dad was at another lab, and I remember him going in and taking my sister and I with him, it must have been on a Saturday because nobody else was there. As an adult now I know that was probably stressful for Dad trying to work and watch me and my sister to make sure we were not getting into trouble! I remember the lab in San Diego because it made a great “track” to ride my Kick-n-Go scooter. It wasn’t until I was close to 50 years old that I found out that Dad was a pioneer in plastic lenes. He didn’t have anything to do with the creation of them, but he created shortcuts, specialized tools and “fixes” for many manufacturing and production problems. His solutions were good enough to be shared with other labs.

I remember Dad building and flying model airplanes. He was good with the gliders, but there was something about flying powered model planes that jinxed him! I remember being with him one day and watching the plane just fly out of range, never to be seen again. But the model gliders were fun. I remember going with him when he flew them. He tried to let me fly them, but I was too scared of crashing them. I could fly them going away from me when moving the joystick left made it turn left and right turn to the right, but it was too hard when the glider was flying back towards us to remember that the joystick operation was switched.

That is the wing to a model glider that Dad is work on sitting on the front porch in the home in the Turtle Creek housing edition in Broken Arrow, OK. Circa 1978.

There was a time when Dad had 1/5 ownership in a real plane, a green and gold Cessna Cardinal. I was old enough not to be afraid of flying anymore and I remember flying to the EAA fly-in at Oshkosh with him, shooting touch-and-go’s and flying to Grandma Hurt’s. We took my Husky, Mitzi, with us a few times. She didn’t seem to mind flying at all, but I do remember one time Dad made a sharp turn and pulled a very low G and it was enough that Mitzi could feel it. She suddenly sat up and looked around like “What is happening?”

We lived in Iowa when Dad had part ownership in the plane. When we lived in town, we had a pretty good-sized back yard and Dad would take me out to throw the football or hit the softball. I remember being “afraid” of the football when we first started throwing it (6th grade). I thought it was going to hurt when I caught it, so I was kind of a panzy! One day a neighbor and his son were over, and we were all in the back yard playing catch with the football. Dad threw a long pass to me and although I believed it would hurt when I caught it, I wasn’t about to look like a wimp in front of other people, so I caught it. I discovered it didn’t hurt and it was actually fun to run plays and catch the ball. I remember Dad commenting on my “improvement” that day and throwing the football in the back yard became a “thing” for us after that.

I also played church league softball in high school, so Dad would hit fly balls to me to help me improve my game. We did that both in town and when we moved out to the country. We had a big front yard out there and we spent quite a few evenings with Dad hitting the ball and me fielding them.

I LOVED it when we moved to the country. We had 10 acres of land, horses and lots of fun things to do. Mom & Dad taught me how to ride. I remember I would go with Dad to take the horses out of the pasture to the front yard to eat some good grass. We would let them graze for 30 minutes or so and then take them back to the pasture. During one of these times, I jumped on a horse bareback. I learned how to keep my balance riding back and forth to and from the barn and that began my love of bareback riding. Dad and I also spent time building and repairing fences and doing “country work” together. I don’t think my work ethic was the best as a teen, but Dad always worked hard and didn’t let me slide. I learned how to work hard from him.

Dad on his horse, Ladybug. Circa 1986.

Me on our Arabian horse, Penny. I was using my bareback saddle in this picture. Circa 1986.

Another one of Dad’s model hobbies…remote control cars. And, of course, it was a sprint car. Circa 1986

This is the tractor Dad bought (literally) the weekend after I left for college. It took me 3 hours to mow the property. When I left and Dad had to mow, he bought this tractor. Mowing time went from 3 hours to 1 hour!

It was while we lived in Iowa that I noticed my dad’s devotion to reading the Bible. Every day, without fail, I saw him sit in his chair, pray and read the Bible. I am not sure how many years he had been doing this before I noticed, but I remember getting up early for jazz band practice and seeing Dad open the bifold doors of the piano room where he had been praying and reading his Bible. When we moved to the country, I would be up early to detassel corn or go work for the county and I saw Dad in the den reading his Bible and praying. Every house we moved to after that Dad had his chair with his Bible beside it where he would read every morning. He never lectured me, “You should read the Bible every day”, but it was his example that led me to reading the Bible through in a year for the first time when I was in college. After that I was hooked for myself, and I know it was my dad’s faithful example that planted the life-long love for God’s Word in my heart.

Dad had opened his own optical shop in Iowa. God blessed my dad’s business enough to allow me to attend a private college. During this time, Dad created and patented the Aqusizer, a hand-held tool for measuring the circumference of a lens. If I understand correctly, the money from this patent (and the eventual selling of it) was what enabled my parents to pay for my private college education. Yet another blessing of God on our family and an example of Dad’s unique gifting as an optician.

I found this image of the Acqusizer doing an image search in 2022. It was on a flash card from some (now very outdated) optical/optician test. I am not positive, but those *may* be my dad’s hands and an original picture he took for selling it.

I have 50+ years of memories with my Dad for which I am very thankful. The two legacies he has passed on to me are my love for God’s Word and an ability “figure it out and fix it”. I remember my dad fixing all manner of things growing up. I don’t think anybody taught Dad how to do all that stuff, it just needed to be done, so Dad took it apart to figure out what was wrong or broken, and he fixed it. Appliances, cars, bicycles, electrical, plumbing, my toys, etc (and he did it all before Google and YouTube!). I don’t remember Dad showing me, “Here’s how you fix this or do that” because he just fixed things as they came up, but over that past 10 years I find myself calling Dad to tell him what I figured out or fixed. I learned it from him. It’s not going to fix itself, there’s nobody else to do it…so figure it out and fix it! It’s amazing how much you can accomplish with that attitude…and I owe it to my Dad’s example.

——-

MISC PICS

This is one of my favorite pictures of Dad. I think this was his 40th birthday party. Mom invited a bunch of their friends over for a party and she made several different kinds of pie for Dad that year.

This is the only picture I have of “the bike”. In a previous life this bike was a banana seat, cruiser type handlebars type bike. For Christmas (circa 1976), Dad (who could build anything) put knobby tires on it, motocross handlebars, the racing number on the front, a cool black seat, a clip-on “gas tank”, a dirt bike chain guard and he painted it black. I had the BEST bike, and this was my all-time favorite Christmas gift! This picture was taken after the bike was a couple years old.

Where did you go on vacations as a child?

From my Storyworth collection

If I tried to write about all of our family vacations as a kid, I would have a VERY long post and probably not do justice to all of our trips. Two memories stand out in my mind when I think about childhood vacations. The first memory is simply our trips to visit our grandparents. I think the most frequent trip was to visit Granddad & Grandma Hurt and “Jonesy” (Grandma Hurt’s mother, Great-Grandma Jones who died not long before her 101st or 102nd birthday). On the way to Salisbury, MO there was a red light in a small town at the top of a hill. Dad would try to judge his speed correctly, put the car in neutral coast up the hill trying to stop right at the red light without using the brake. I don’t remember how many times we did that or if he ever made it, but it is a fond memory. Once we arrived, I remember dad watching us and letting us climb up their TV antenna, going to visit Grandma at Dr. Harms’ office (she was his nurse), going to Granddad’s barber shop, walking to the dime store and walking to the park. I also remember going to Grandma’s church and the hymns we sang. I remember a nasty lettuce, mayo and olive salad Grandma fixed too frequently and Mom always made us eat, Jonesy eating green onions with every meal and my sister and I hiding in the back room/porch and meowing like a cat, laughing when Jonesy came to the back door looking for a cat to let inside.

JONESEY…I THINK SHE WAS 98 IN THIS PICTURE

I remember visiting Grandma Yates/Robinette (Mom’s mom). I remember going to visit her work (the Unity Village), her sending me stuff from there including some sort of monthly magazine as well as the Little Green Dragon book and cassette tape recording that I LOVED. I remember visiting her house, playing outside, catching fireflies in her front yard and I think I remember no air conditioning.

WE ARE SITTING ON THE PORCH AT GRANDMA ROBINETTE’S HOUSE ON OUR WAY HOME FROM VISITING HORN CREEK. THE TANK TOPS WE WERE ALL WEARING WERE “STRETCH-N-SEW” MADE BY MOM.

I remember visiting Grandpa Sleighter and Gram Mert (Mom’s dad and his wife) on their farm I am not sure how many times (not very many). I remember getting to help milk a cow (it was hard work and not much fun as a little kid) and having to walk down to the basement naked (in front of everybody…I was a little kid) to take a shower with the shower head in the corner of their basement and a drain in the floor. And I remember when their cow had calves. One of the calves was standing too close behind the mother and Gram Mert said to the cow, “Well, you done sh*t on your baby’s face!” I knew that was a really bad word, but it was funny that the cow pooped on her baby!

My fondest vacation memories were our multiple trips to Horn Creek Family Camp in Westcliff, Colorado. I am not sure how many trips we made, but I remember some as a younger child and one I think as a teen. Each family had a hotel-type room in a lodge with a meeting room and dining hall in the middle. There was breakfast together with other families, a morning devotional, family time during the day, dinner together at night and then a nighttime meeting with Bible teaching all with other families. Some random things I remember:

    - Dad climbed the 13,450 mountain a couple times. One year he took me with him. I cannot imagine the patience it took to coax/drag me up the mountain, but we made it together and it is a memory I will cherish for a lifetime.

    - Horseback riding was always fun. I don’t really remember it much, but as a young child I was thrown off a horse at Horn Creek and I guess it hurt my back for a while. The Lord healed me as a child at a prayer meeting.

- There was family skit night one year that was a LOT of fun. Our family did a corny skit. It was Dad’s idea, and it was REALLY corny.

PICTURES OF DAD AND ME ON TOP OF HORN PEAK, 13,450 FEET. I LOOK OLDER IN THIS PICTURE, BUT THE PICTURE ABOVE OF US ON THE PORCH OF GRANDMA ROBINETTE’S PORCH WAS TAKEN ON THE WAY HOME FROM THIS TRIP. THE “MEDAL” I WAS WEARING ON MY CHEST AND THE PATCH I WAS HOLDING IN THE PORCH PICTURE WERE FOR MAKING IT TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN.

I do not remember all the details, but I also remember an enjoyable vacation to Mout Rushmore (I think this is the same trip we saw the Corn Palace and a few other tourist attractions). This may have been the trip where I have my funniest vacation memory. We stayed at a budget motel and during the night, a bunch of people (I want to say bikers, but not sure on that) came in late and drunk after partying. They were loud and carried on for quite a while. One drunk lady kept yelling, “I’m so ugly he doesn’t love me anymore. I’m so ugly. I’m so ugly.” When morning came, we headed out early and TOTALLY out of character for him, Dad rolled down the window and yelled, “I’M UGLY. YOU’RE UGLY, WE’RE ALL UGLY” as we drove out of the parking lot!

How did you get your first job?

 From my Storyworth collection.

My first job was as a paper boy when I was in the 5th grade and lived in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma in 1980. I think I got the job because somebody I knew had the route, was quitting and needed somebody to take his place. I would come home from school, fold and rubber band the newspapers, put them in a bag that I slung over my shoulder and headed out on my bike to deliver papers.

Some of the things I remember about this job:

- Wednesday was the BIG paper day. It took longer to fold them, they were heavier, and I could not carry as many at one time.

- I would collect once a month. A monthly subscription cost $2.75, I believe, and I usually got the quarter tip.

- I remember one big snow day I had to deliver. There was too much snow to ride my bike, so I loaded my papers on a sled and walked my route. It was WAY slower doing it this way and I remember Mom had to come pick me up in the car and drive me on the rest of my route because it was getting so late.

- I would try to ride by on my bike and throw the paper onto the porch. If I was too close or threw the paper too hard, the paper would WHACK the glass storm door, people would call to complain to the paper, and I would written up by the paper.

- There was a bully from school who would stop me and harass me on my route. My “boss” from the paper (must have been the guy who was over several paper delivery boys) went to the boy’s home and talked to his parents. The bully was mad at me for it, but he left me alone while I was delivering papers after that.

- There was a guy on my route that was either a then-current player or retired player from the Cincinati Bengals. I remember seeing his helmet on the fireplace one time when I was collecting my monthly subscriptions.

My first “real job” was when I was in high school, probably my sophomore year (so 1985ish) at the restaurant, Autumn Winds, just a mile from our house on Skunk River Road in Iowa. I got this job just by stopping by and filling out an application. I would go into work around 3:30-4:00 pm and do food prep before they opened at 5 pm. I worked in the kitchen doing dishes, making salads and making sure trays were ready for waitresses to take out to the dining room.

The restaurant was owned by a husband-and-wife team, Bob and JoAnn Thornburg. It was a cloth tablecloth, steaks and seafood, nice restaurant. Bob was the chef and JoAnn was the hostess. I usually worked 2 nights during the week and then Friday and/or Saturday. Bob and JoAnn treated everybody there like family and it was a great place to work.

Some of the things I remember about this job:

- We had an annual Christmas party every year. Bob and JoAnn would cook for all of us, and it was like a big family gathering. They took good care of all the teens who worked there.

- New Year’s Eve was always a BIG night and we would work late. One year the restaurant was robbed at gun point about 20 minutes after I got off work. Somehow one of the patrons thought they saw me outside before the robbery. Bob and JoAnn never thought anything of it, but I was questioned as a “person of interest” by the detectives investigating the case! They came to the restaurant one January night when I was working right after that, asked to follow me home and speak with me, Mom and Dad. They questioned me about what time I got off work, what time I got home, did I go back to the restaurant, etc. (Guess I was eventually cleared!)

- My boss, Bob, was one of the first people I witnessed to about the Lord. During the week, it was just Bob and one teen in the kitchen, so we talked some then. Sometimes Bob needed somebody to go pick up new kitchen equipment and I would go with him. There was a time that Bob had a breakdown and spent some time in a treatment center. He later told me, “One of my assignments while I was there was to write my life’s story and talk about the people who have impacted my life. You were a part of my story.” Bob never made a confession for Christ, but that was the first time the Lord let me see the impact I could have on others for the Kingdom.

- Right after graduation my senior year I had jaw surgery. Bob asked what I wanted for my “last meal” before my jaw was surgically broken and I had to eat ice cream, baby food and protein drinks for 8 weeks. He fixed a burger and onion rings for my parents to bring me the night before my surgery.

- I worked there until the summer before I left for college. When I would come home from college for Christmas break, I would pick up some shifts at the restaurant. (I LOVED coming home from college for Christmas break. Life was super stressful with finals, but they were over, I’d come home to see my family and my Husky, I could relax, read a book, listen to Christmas music and pick up some shifts at Autumn Winds…like being with family).

- Bob and JoAnn got divorced sometime after I left Autumn Winds. Brooke and I used to send out Christmas newsletters right after we were married. Bob’s newsletter got returned so I called the number I had for him. The wife he married after JoAnn answered, asked who I was and how I knew Bob…and then told me he had passed away. That was really hard on me. Bob and JoAnn and my experience working at Autumn Winds was a GREAT time in my life and I am thankful for them and my time there.

JoAnn Thornburg (left); Me circa 1987 (middle); Bob Thornburg (right)

What Is Storyworth

 

At the end of last year (2021), I began seeing links for Storyworth in my Facebook feed. The basic idea is that once a week, Storyworth will send you a prompt or question such as "What was your favorite job growing up?" or "What were your favorite cartoons as a kid?" or "Describe your father as you were growing up". You can either answer the question, pick a new question from the list, or make up your own question to answer. 

When you set up your account, you can select people who will receive each answer/story you write. At the end of the year, Storyworth will print all of your questions and answers into a nice book and send it to a person of your choice. My wife, daughter and mother receive an email copy of my question/answer each week, and at the end of the year, my daughter will receive the printed book. I thought it would be a fun way to share parts of my life she may not have heard. I have decided I will share my Storyworth questions/answer on my blog as well. 

12 of 12 February 2021

 12 of 12 - I got the idea from somebody else and modified it. My 12 of 12 is 12 pictures for each of the 12 months of the year (I print a 12 picture collage each month). Here is February 2021.

February 5 - Bo needed updated shots so he got special attention while we waited (a long time) at TCAP in Arlington.

February 6 - First work day moving the church playground. Raymond and Roger had the system for getting those posts out of the ground!

February 12 - When Pops is home on Friday, James gets to hang out with Spurgeon.

February 12 - Hanging out with Queen B.

February 13 - An early Valentine's date at Chamis do Brazil before the bitter Artic Blast was to hit.

February 14 - The puppies keeping each other warm.

February 15 - Redneck "weather proofing" the house during the Artic Blast of '21

February 16 - Repair 1 and 2 out of 5 burst pipes. Thankfully found these two while the pipes were still frozen so they did not flood the house.

February 18 - Sammy seemed to enjoy playing in the snow. It was too cold to say out long, but he had the long hair. It didn't take long for snow to get in his paws and he was not such a big fan of that.

February 20 - Weekly old people Saturday grocery shopping date...our favorite!

February 21 - With the Artic Blast of '21 over, it was time for Delilah to loose some hair. Bless her heart (and Sammy, too), she looked more sheared that groomed when I was done, but it will grow back, right?

February 27- Work Day #2 moving the playground. Vine Fellowship and La Vid worked together to dig out, jackhammer and remove all the playground equipment.

12 of 12 January 2021

12 of 12 - I got the idea from somebody else and modified it. My 12 of 12 is 12 pictures for each of the 12 months of the year (I print a 12 picture collage each month). Here is January 2021.

January 6 - Got the water turned back on today! This is how you get by when there is a water leak under the house and you only turn on the water for 30 minutes each day until the plumber can come fix the leak!

January 9 - La Vid will start meeting in our facilities tomorrow. What great things does God have in store for our two churches together?

January 10 - It was James first snow! The Fam was in quarantine because of Covid, but at least we got to see a picture of this happy boy in the snow.

January 10 - It doesn't snow very often in our part of Texas so Miss Brooke took advantage of the opportunity and took the kids out to play during Kids Church.

January 16 - Brooke took me out to one of my fav's for an early birthday lunch...Red Robin.

January 16 - Hiking at the Trinity Trails along the Trinity River in Ft. Worth. Maybe discovering a new hobby for the two of us together in 2021.

January 17 - My roommate from college, Craig, made sure I got to celebrate my birthday in style!

January 23 - Gender reveal! Amanda and Canaan took turns smashing cupcakes on each other's forehead until the one filled with pink or blue told the story. It's gonna be another boy!

January 28 - First day James got to come visit after quarantine. I cannot tell who was happier, James or Queen B.

January 28 - Very thankful to get to celebrate with Dad on his 87th birthday.

January 28 - The new police chief, Al Jones met with local pastors this week. ACAPP was there and got to meet him...welcome to Arlington, Chief Jones.

January 31 - Everybody in their spot waiting for the "OK" to run to their bowls full of food. Our two dogs on the left and two grand dogs on the right. Samson, Delilah, Bo and Paris (aka "Weenie").