Back in the summer of 1994, I worked for the Alabama Baptist State Convention. I traveled around the state with a guy named Mike; he was a worship leader, and I was the speaker for a series of revivals all over the state. We worked with several small and medium sized churches from one end of Alabama to another. One of those churches was Little River Baptist Church in Chrysler, Alabama. Chrysler is located due south of Uriah, Alabama, which means it is smack dab in the middle of nowhere. However, it is within driving distance of Atmore, where my grandfather lives.

That summer, my grandmother was still alive, though just barely. She was completely bedridden with Parkinson’s and dementia. Parkinson’s was destroying her body, and dementia was ravaging her mind. Frankly, I am not sure she even knew who she was during those eight years she spent in the back bedroom, much less who we were. God used that eight years to transform my grandfather. He went from being a particularly gruff man to an incredibly tender caregiver who refused to even consider a nursing home as long as he was able to care for her at home. He didn’t get out much during that time.

But he did make plans to come to Little River Baptist Church to hear me speak. In fact, he even drove over during the day before coming over that night: he wanted to make sure that he knew how to find the church. He came in right after the service began, so I didn’t get a chance to speak to him. I did acknowledge him before I spoke by introducing him to those in attendance that night.

After the service, the members of the church were very friendly as they welcomed my grandfather and told him how they had enjoyed having me there that week. In fact, I had to wait my turn to get to speak to him. As I approached him, I was mindful of his less than affectionate nature, and I just stuck out my hand to shake his.

He took my hand in his, and for the first time, he pulled me into a hug. He told me how much he had enjoyed the service and how proud he was of me. His face was beaming that night, and I will never forget the pride in his eyes or the way he hugged me.

Grandaddy is not doing well. We have been noticing his mental decline over the past months, and we know that he is now experiencing Alzheimer’s firsthand. Two weeks ago, he had surgery on his feet and was kept in the hospital in Atmore for observation and antibiotics by IV. While there, his lungs began to fill with fluid, and he experienced congestive heart failure. A doctor there was able to revive him, and he was airlifted down to Mobile. He was in ICU for a week and half, and only two days ago was placed into a regular room. He has been stabilized, and his lungs and heart seem to be functioning better. In fact, they are now looking at transferring him back to Atmore.

Unfortunately, many times when an Alzheimer’s patient experiences a physical problem like this, it speeds up the mental decline. Thus far, it seems like that might be the case. We are hoping that part of the confusion might be from the drug-induced coma he was in for over a week, but we just don’t know. Only time will tell.

If you pray, keep him in your prayers.

I think the part of the devotional that I like best are the discussion points down at the bottom of each. Each page starts with a scripture, and then one of the authors (a husband and wife team) offers some thoughts about the topic. After the author’s thoughts, there is a usually a question or statement for starting discussion between the husband and wife.

The past two nights, we have read about our need for one another. The authors pointed out that sometimes it is difficult for husbands and wives to admit their need for one another. To be honest, I am sure I struggle with many things in life (and many things in my marriage as well), but I don’t think I really struggle with admitting my need for my bride. Last night’s devotion challenged us to take the general (admitting our need for one another) and make it specific (why do we need one another). We were challenged to write a list of specific reasons why we need one another.I hope she doesn’t mind my choosing to do this in a public forum, but I have decided to write my five reasons here. (If I get in trouble, I will let you know!)

I need Miranda because she offers a different point of view. She often challenges me to see situations and people from a point of view that doesn’t come naturally to me. By doing this, she often causes me to see things in a more realistic way than I am naturally prone to.

I need Miranda because she is my best friend. The fact is, I like people. I truly enjoy them, and I tend to be drawn to them wherever I go. I want to know their names and their stories… EVERYBODY’S story. I like knowing the name of the gay guy who rings up my purchases at the gas station when I am on my way to class at AUM, and I like hearing more of my waitress’s story… what brought her from a life in Italy to waiting tables in Prattville? Even though my life is filled with friendly acquaintances and some close friends, Miranda alone knows me completely. She is not only my friend, she is my best friend. When something wonderful happens in my day, she is the one that I want to tell. When something horrible happens, she is the one I want to be with.

I need Miranda because she knows me completely, and she accepts me. All of my life, I have struggled with acceptance. Some people may find complete acceptance with their families of origin, but I have never felt completely accepted there. I am casting no stones… I am sure that I am as much to blame for that as anyone else. Nevertheless, the fact remains that my family of origin has never been a place where I have felt accepted completely. Various groups of friends over the years have offered various levels of acceptance, and I am certainly appreciative of that. However, only my bride knows me completely… and accepts me. That acceptance brings a level of comfort and intimacy that is unrivaled.

I need Miranda because she is my partner. When I proposed to Miranda, I told her that every dream I had for the future involved her… that I couldn’t picture any part of the future without her by my side. I still can’t. Every dream… personal, spiritual, professional… she is my partner. She is right there by my side, and together we can face anything.

I need Miranda because she is my other half. Scripture refers to the two becoming one, and I don’t believe that this is just a lovely little metaphor for sex. I believe that a married couple does in fact become something new when they marry, and I honestly believe she is my other half. I told her recently that I would rather die than live without her, and I didn’t mean that in any kind of dysfunctional, unhealthy way. If God gave me a choice between living with only half a body or dying and going to heaven… then take me to heaven. I am not talking about half of my body being paralyzed…. I am talking about half of my body being physically REMOVED…. like the left half from the top of my head to the soles of my feet…. GONE. What kind of life could I live as half a man? I feel the same way about Miranda… she is not merely my wife, she is truly the other half of who I am. Just as I can’t imagine living with half a head, half a torso, one arm, one butt cheek, one leg…. I can’t imagine a life without her in it.

So what about you? Why do you need your spouse?

Updated at 10:13 p.m. - Miranda had her list ready to share tonight… she just didn’t post it on her blog.

Chloe:
For no particular reason, I will start with our youngest. Chloe, or Coco as she is apt to be called, is in her second year of preschool, and she absolutely loves it. She is truly a social creature, and preschool gives her an outlet for that. She usually runs in each morning, greeting her friends by name. She has many of the traits of a leader, and I have jokingly said that we need to make sure that she uses her powers for good instead of evil! She is strong-willed and very independent, but at the same time, she has an incredibly sensitive heart. Her laughter is one of my favorite sounds.

Jordyn:
Jordyn is in the first grade, and she is truly excelling academically. She has developed a true love for learning, and I hope we can continue to build upon it. She loves to read, and is often found with a book in her hands. (Come to think of it, Coco has an affinity for books as well, and she can’t even read yet! I wonder where they learned to love the written word?) Of the two, Jordyn is more shy, but she is apparently overcoming this. In fact, when I asked her teacher about her shyness, her teacher looked at me like I was talking about another child! I suppose she really has come a long way, but it is hard to see when you have a child as naturally gregarious as Chloe is. Jordyn usually shows a true servant’s heart; she truly enjoys helping others.

Miranda:
My bride recently experienced her second promotion less than a year. She is now the manager of the lab at LensCrafters. She has worked in the optical field ever since we married almost eleven years ago. She started with Wal-Mart Vision Centers and was with them for three years. She started as an optician, and was promoted to management a short time later. When we moved to the Montgomery area, LensCrafters began to recruit her pretty heavily. They had a pattern at that time of recruiting Wal-Mart Vision Center managers. When she joined the company, she was one of three former Wal-Mart managers working at her LensCrafters location. She worked retail for a while, but eventually moved into the lab. She truly enjoys what she does, and I think she is excited by the challenge of making the lab her own. When she has spare time, she is often found constructing a scapbook page of one sort or another.

Blair:
I am now in my sixth year at SEHS and my eleventh year in education. I finished my Master’s at the end of the summer, and somehow or another, I was able to pull it off with a 4.0. I didn’t even slow down - I enrolled for fall semester to begin work on my Ed.S. (Educational Specialist). At my current pace, I will finish it by the end of fall semester next year. Hopefully, I will then transfer to Auburn’s main campus where I will complete my Ed.D. I am not sure how long that will take, but I have been told anywhere from a year and a half to two years. At that rater, I will cease to be “Mr. A.” and become “Dr. A.” before my fortieth birthday.

So that is pretty much it. Anything that I forgot to mention, feel free to ask.

When we first me them, Bill and Nita Crawford had three children. Their oldest, Wynne, was in college after having graduated high school at the early age of 16. Nilha, their middle child, was in high school, and so was Trent, their youngest.

When Wynne was home for breaks, she would babysit my big sister and me. (My younger brother wasn’t born yet.) Nilha was often a baby sitter as well. They would even load us up into the backseat of their cars and take the two of us to Montgomery to see a movie. I saw countless Disney movies with the Crawford girls. I also remember Nilha taking us all the way to Montgomery just so she could buy us some bublle gum ice cream. Nilha was even my first fiancee, but that is a story for another time.

Trent was there for me in a different way. If I ever had bike troubles, I knew Trent could help me fix them. On more than one occasion, Trent put a wayward chain back where it belonged so that I could return to terrorizing the neighborhood.

Uncle Bill may not have taken me on my first motorcycle ride, but he took me on the first one that I can remember. Late one morning, he came and picked me up, and I sat behind him on his Goldwing as he drove around town. He took me to lunch, and we had Reuben sandwiches. I must confess… I don’t like Reubens. I have never liked them, but I ate mine that day anyway… after all, Uncle Bill was eating one, and Uncle Bill was cool! He drove a motorcycle! Plus, he had an old Model A Ford in his garage. Of course, at the time I didn’t think it was cool to have an old car like that. In fact, I told my mother once that I thought a doctor should be able to afford a nicer car than that.

My Aunt Nita has loved me in more ways than I could ever tell you. Even when I was a small child, she always took time out of her day for me. She would play air hockey with me, and sometimes she would even let me win. She talked with me, and, more importantly, she would listen to me.

When I was just seven, she shared about Christ with me. Together, we knelt by the couch in their den where we prayed. She introduced me to Jesus.

The stories that the Andress family and the Crawford family share are too numerous to tell here. I think they could make up a book if I tried. But tonight, I can’t begin to try. Tonight, my heart is sad.

My Uncle Bill had surgery this past week. As I understand it, he was having a heart valve replaced. Technically, the surgery went fine. As the week went on, it became clearer that Uncle Bill just wasn’t recuperating the way we had hoped. This morning, at about 6:00, my Uncle Bill passed away.

He told Aunt Nita before the surgery that he was prepared… that he was ready if something were to happen. He went on to tell her that he sure would enjoy spending several more years with her if the Lord would just let him. The Lord had other plans.

God has been glorified in the life of Dr. Willis V. Crawford. He used his medical practice as a ministry, and I am sure many lives were impacted as a result. He and his bride raised three wonderful children who all love Christ. He and his bride shared a lifelong marriage that was an inspiration to many.

Bill Crawford touched many lives, and there are countless people who will be forever different because of him and his family.

I know. I am one of them.

I don’t really remember going to kindergarten much. My parents registered for for two different years of private kindergarten, and I do remember going some when I was four and five. I also remember when I was four and I went streaking at Little Big Top in Troy… and went home with a note pinned to my shirt. I suppose that is a story for another day.

When I think about kindergarten, I think more of when my brother Matt started school. He is five years younger than I, so I started fifth grade at the same time that he started kindergarten. We rode the bus to school, and I made sure he sat with me. I felt some sort of need to protect him at the time. Sure, I was fine with beating the crap out of him at home, but I had to make sure that nobody else did it. (For those of you that know Matt… I was bigger than he was at the time. It wasn’t until he hit his mid-teens that he outgrew me.) When the bus driver assigned us different seats, I am pretty sure I lied to her and told her that my mom was going to be pretty ticked off because she wanted me to sit with him. I suppose the threat of an angry parent was enough to scare the bus driver into submission because she put me and Matt in the same seat.

On the first day of school, I remember my mother making a huge deal over Matt. She asked him dozens of questions, and I stood there silently while I was ignored. I sulked masterfully, and then Matt made The Proclamation.

“Guess what, Mom? I learned to read today!” he exclaimed. Sure enough, he produced a purple mimeographed piece of paper that he had colored. At the bottom of the page was one sentence, and he read it to her.

Oh, crap! My world was sinking. All along, I had been the Smart One. Kim, our sister, was the Responsible One. Matt, as the baby of the family, was the Youngest One… and I was the Smart One. (Also, the Lazy One, the Disobedient One, the Rebellious One, the Lying One, and in later years, the Tattooed One… but always the Smart One.) Suddenly my world was topsy turvy… Matt had learned to read, and he did it on his first day of kindergarten!?!??! If I was no longer the Smart One, who was I?

We went by the hospital on the way home that afternoon to see my grandmother. I am not sure what her ailment was, but I don’t remember it being too bad. As we got out of the car, my mom poured salt all over my wounded heart when she said to Matt, “Hey, Matt, why don’t you show Mom-mom how well you can read when we get to her room?”

“Okay, Mom!” the little turd said happily as we got out of the car. Of course he was happy… he had taken my throne!

As we crossed the parking lot, Mom looked down at Matt and realized he was empty handed… the purple mimeogrpahed sheet was still in the car. (Have I mentioned that he hadn’t even done that great a job coloring? I am pretty sure that I remember stray marks all across the lines. How could he read when he couldn’t even stay in the lines?)

“Matt, you don’t have your sheet!” Mom said.

Matt quickly replied, “It’s okay, Mom…. I can read it without it!”

Hallelujah! The little turd could memorize, but he still couldn’t read! I was still the Smart One.

Don’t tell him this… but twenty-five years later, I still am. For real… don’t tell him. I may be the Smart One, but he is the Big One, and he could kick my butt if he got mad enough.

The birth experience was traumatic, and if my bride were willing, she could share it in schools as a means of preventing teenage pregnancy. But once the child was here… the adventure began.

I remember watching as they cleaned her up. It took a while, but she started to look less like a lizard and more like a baby. I remember counting fingers and toes and checking to make sure that everything was in the right place. I started at the top of her little cone-shaped head and worked my way down. When I reached her toes, I noticed that she had toes like mine.

All my life, the middle toe on my left foot has had a tendency to rest beneath the bigger toe right next to it. When I was little, my mother called it my bashful toe and told me that it was just a little shy. To be honest, I had not thought about that toe being bashful for years before that day five years ago.

As a I gazed at my perfect daughter, I noticed that the middle toe on her left foot was a little bit bashful… it was trying to hide beneath the bigger toe right next to it. Seeing it made me smile just little bigger.

We took that little girl to Birmingham this morning. She got to go to the Build a Bear Workshop where she made a pink poodle who is now wearing pink pajamas and sleeping in a pink bed. I am not sure where the past five years went, but I don’t have a baby anymore. I have a little girl…

… a little girl with a bashful toe on her left foot.

In high school, she dated a guy that I never got to know very well, but I always thought a lot of. Everyone seemed to like Chris, and I was no exception. He was always kind to me, and he always had a smile. He always seemed genuinely happy to see me… who doesn’t like being around those kind of people?

I last saw Chris several years ago when my wife and I attended a concert at a local church. He was playing drums that night, and I recognized him before the singer introduced her band. Afterwards, I walked up to him with Miranda, and his eyes lit up when he saw me. He recognized me before I said a word, and as I stuck out my hand to shake his, he took it, and then he put his arm around me to hug me. We talked briefly that night about the roads that the providential hand of God had led us down. We shook hands as said our goodbyes and wished one another well. Because of the nature of such encounters, we probably said something along the lines of how we would need to catch up again sometime.

We will… sometime.

Chris and his wife, another native of my hometown of Enterprise, Alabama, were on their way to church this past Friday evening. Their two children, two years apart like my own little girls, were sitting behind them in the minivan. They exited the freeway and came to a redlight. Patiently, they waited for the light to change so they could go on to church. As they sat at the redlight in their Mazda MPV, another vehicle exited the freeway and made its way down the ramp. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t see either the redlight or the minivan.

Due to the lack of skidmarks, police say he made no attempts to slow down and was probably doing between 60 and 70 miles per hour when he slammed into the Walls family van, knocking them through the major intersection and through a fence into a construction site.

I pray that the family was killed by the impact, because if they weren’t, officials say they would have been burnt alive. The gas tank exploded… and four lives were lost.

I know that Chris and his family have been worshipping in an incredible way this weekend, but many of us who knew them have been asking, “Why?”

I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know several things.

They were on their way to church. You know, of all times to go… that seems like a good one. What an incredible reminder to those that you leave behind of what is truly important to you! They weren’t going to a friend’s house, they weren’t going to a club, they weren’t going shopping… they were going to church.

They are remembered well. Already, I have heard from folks in several states. I have read blogs written by those that knew them, and I have read interviews with others. I know that we are always reluctant to say negative things about the dead, but this is not just a sense of propriety. Chris and Leah had a positive impact on others.

They were together. In a world where so many marriages and families fall apart, this family lived… and died… together.

For the friends and families left behind, I pray for comfort and peace. For Chris, his bride, and his children, I pray a joyous homecoming.

And for myself, my bride, and my two little ones… I pray for protection… and for a sense of urgency that will allow us to live tomorrow in the fullest manner possible.

For the past nine months or so, our family has found ourselves at a crossroads. At various points, we would take steps in a certain direction only to return to the crossroads. We desperately long to be a part of a community of faith, but at the same time, we want to make sure that we are part of the right body of faith for us. So many things are weighed as we consider where God wants us to invest in others as well as have others pour into our lives.

First of all, let me make it clear that we are not merely approaching this as mere consumers. We are not looking for a church in the same way that someone might be looking for a new place to shop for groceries. We are looking for a place where we can give completely of ourselves, but at the same time, my family has needs. As the spiritual leader of my family, I must make sure that we are in a place where those needs are going to be met.

So what all have we considered? In no particular order, we have considered the following:

Doctrine. I am a mutt of sorts, I suppose. I was reared in a Southern Baptist home by Southern Baptist parents. In high school, I became part of a Methodist youth group, and in college, I was part of a Presbyterian collegiate ministry. I was ordained as a Southern Baptist minister, and I have served numerous Baptist churches. My most recent church was non-denominational, but it is heavily influenced by the Assemblies of God.

I share all of this so that you will know that I know what I believe, and I know why I believe it. There are certain places where I know that I am not a good fit; my DNA doesn’t match that of the church. There are many wonderful churches in the metro Montgomery area, but because of my personal belief system, they are not a good match for me.

Church Structure. There are many contemporary churches in this area, and even more churches who are trying to be contemporary. The problem is, I think many of them are Church 2.0, and I am looking for Church 3.0. I am borrowing from Mark Driscoll, so let me explain the terms as he uses them.

Church 1.0 would be the church of my childhood. This would be a church born of a different era, more modern than post-modern. The choir wore their robes, and we all sang along from our hymnals as Miss Hilda played the organ. The pastors were viewed as as servants and teachers. This church expected a privileged place in society as a whole. The concept of missions was that we would send Americans and American dollars overseas through major denominations and associations. According to Mark Driscoll, approximately 40% of all church worshippers attended this type of model in 1906, but by the turn of the millenium, less than 16% did. Why? Because a transition had occurred.

At some point, we began a transition towards Church 2.0. (We could argue over when this began, but really… what’s the point?) This church model proclaims itself as contemporary and seeker-sensitive. The cultural context is somewhat different than Church 1.0… it is neither modern nor post-modern. Instead, it is in the valley between the crests of those two waves.
A cultural war is being waged to attempt to reclaim the lost power, prestige, and influence. Pastors are viewed as CEOs, and the church services recycle 80’s and 90’s pop culture through music and drama in an attempt to reach out to seekers. The concept of missions also changed, and instead of funding overseas work through denominations and associations, missions is now handled by a department within the church that organizes trips.

In this area, there are plenty of Church 1.0 models and even some Church 2.0 models. The problem is, my heart is crying out for something more… I am longing for Church 3.0. So how is it different, you might ask.

Well, for starters, it is emerging and missional. By emerging, I mean that it is not yet… but it is coming to be. As I understand it, missional means that the church has an incredible, passionate love for Christ, a relentless love for the faith family, and is in tune with the culture which surrounds it. It realizes that its cultural context is post-modern and pluralistic. It realizes that its place in culture has been marginalized. Pastors view themselves as local missionaries, and they are viewed that way by the church as a whole. Missions are both local and global. (Mark uses the term “glocal” to describe this… I like it!)

My frustration? I am not sure that a church like this exists in this area. I know they exist… I know of many, throughout the nation. The problem is, none are within driving distance of Millbrook.

Enough now… more later.

When the trash can is overflowing, you have to take the trash to the outdoor trash can for it to be picked up.
I am aware. I had considered asking the local garbagemen to come into the house and collect it themselves, but they look somewhat seedy. Not to mention the fact that I can’t even get them to pick up large items left beside the trash can because they don’t actually fit inside the can.

You have to actually plug in the vacuum & move it around the room for it to work.
Is that why it makes a noise when you use it but remains mysteriously silent when I have tried? Duly noted.

Clothing has to be put in the washing machine for them to be cleaned. Placing the clothes in the dirty laundry basket is a good place to start.

Children under the age of 5 do not actually clean up after you nor themselves.
I am trying to train them to do better at picking up my stuff for me. Why do you think I agreed to have the little tax deductions in the first place? I knew you were getting tired of cleaning up behind me and I can’t look at you and say, “Because I said so, that’s why!” I am really trying to build character in our children. Please support me in this.

When you are finished using an item (ex: hairbrush, toothpaste, etc), put the item back where it belongs. Then, next time you need it, it will be located where you can find it.
Wherever I put it / drop it / take it off = where it belongs. I always look for stuff wherever I left it, so if you would stop messing with my system, I would appreciate it.

If it is a piece of trash (ex: wadded up tissue, empty soda can) throw it into the trash can.
How do I know if it is trash? I might actually need some of this stuff again. Once I have determined that I have exhausted all possible uses for an item, I will throw it away. I promise.

If the counter is sticky, wipe it with a damp cloth.
I think the hamster (aka - Booger) did that, and I am trying to teach him to clean up after himself. I will talk to him about this.

If the floor has bits of food or trash on it, use a broom to sweep it up.
Then what would the hamster have to eat?

If there are toys everywhere, pick them up & place them in the toy baskets.
But then how would the kids ever find them?

If there are bits of trash & leaves on the carpet, the vacuum will get this up.
And again I am asking… what would Booger have to eat?

If you lose a kid in the yard because the grass is too tall, it may be time to cut the grass.
I know, but the four-year-old isn’t tall enough to push the mower yet. Until she grows, we will just have to go for the natural look. Look at it this way… I am doing all I can to keep sky-rocketing property values in our neighborhood within reason.

There is not a button on the T.V. remote control labeled cleaning mode.
Well, not literally. I told you last night that I tried to be a sensitive husband this weekend. You always complain about how big a mess I make the house, so I spent every minute possible either on the couch or in the bed watching TV. By being as sedentary as possible, I was trying to keep the house as clean as possible. Once again, you never appreciate what I do for you.

When the dishwasher is overflowing, you may actually have to turn it on & run the clean cycle. Also, after the cleaning cycle is finished, the clean dishes have to be taken out & put away in the correct cabinet.
Putting up dishes makes no sense as I am only going to get the dishes out of the cabinet at some point. I am short and the dishwasher is easier to reach. Putting up dishes is as senseless as making up a bed that I am only going to get back into.

****This reply was in no way, shape, or form a response to my oh-so-sarcastic bride.

We talked about Christmas for a minute or two and discussed how it is important because that is when we celebrate Jesus’s birthday. I then asked her if she knew why Easter was important.

“No, sir,” she replied in a sweet little tired voice.

I then asked her if she would ever take a spanking for her little sister. “You know, if your mommy told Chloe that she was going to get a spanking, can you imagine telling your mommy, ‘Mommy, I love Coco so much… it makes me sad when you spank her. Will you give me her spanking?’ Can you imagine telling Mommy that?”

She very quickly told me, “Uh-uh… Coco can get her own spanking.”

I tried to explain how Jesus took our punishment, how he died on the cross so that we could be with God when we died. I went on to explain that Jesus didn’t stay dead… that on the third day, He came back to life. I was doing this very patiently, in four-year-old terms. Seing as I am not much of a children’s minister, I was proud of the job I was doing. (Note: I am better at this than my brother. Matt recently tried to explain the concept of the trinity to a six-year-old and made the kid cry.)

“Daddy, can I ask you a question?” she asked.

I was anxious. My daughter was engaged to the point that she wanted to know more. She had processed all that I was giving her, and now had a question.

“Of course you can, baby. What is it?” I prompted.

“When you were little, did you have a cell phone?”

Sigh.