30 for 30: Part III

Part I:
Part II:

5) Life calls for a few indulgences. I really do wish I was more disciplined and I have a great admiration for people who demonstrate a high-level of personal discipline on a regular basis. I attempt to discipline myself and I'd like to think that I do well in certain areas. Today was an ice cream day, however. I volunteered to help with supper tonight and made a quick trip to Greer's to pick up a few things for the meal. Upon exiting the store, Suzanne called to remind me to get Pedialyte for Amelia. You see, after Suzanne had an appointment today and Maggie got a cap on her trip to the dentist, Amelia was diagnosed with a nasty case of hand, foot, and mouth disease. I headed down to CVS to pick up the Pedialyte and came to an important realization: My family needs ice cream tonight. As luck would have it, the Edy's was on sale, so we got ice cream. After supper, Maggie and I sat down to share a bowl of dulce de leche. It wasn't all that great, but I'm a firm believer that the only bad ice cream is that which is not found in my bowl. Tonight, my daughter and I shared a few moments of bliss. It was a waste of money and a waste of calories. It kept her up past her bedtime. It was completely worth it and I plan to do it again soon. I hope that I will embrace a more disciplined life in the days ahead, but I also hope that there will always be room for ice cream.

6) I wish that reality tv would die a quick painless death. Others have said it more eloquently, but I'm deeply saddened that my children will never know what a regular tv show looks like. As I write tonight's observations, the Food Network is playing in the background. I love the Food Network, but I would give anything if they would get rid of all of the horrible "competitions". I don't need to see anybody else make a big overly decorated cake or cupcake tower. I don't care about any of the interpersonal drama that gets "cooked up" (so punny!) on the show. I'd like an entertaining and informative look at where food comes from, how it can be prepared, and/or places that it is served. Also, Guy Fieri looks like Ed Hardy has decided to produce its own line of middle-aged men who are trying too hard to be edgy. But, I digress. People like Martin Luther King, Jr. had really important dreams, I just dream about a world without reality tv. Is that too much to ask for?

30 for 30: Part II

If you missed part I you can click here to find out what's going on

3)This summer has helped me realize the importance of the weather. As a child, I never gave much thought to the weather, as it usually came in four varieties: hot and wet, hot and humid, cold and wet, or cold and humid. Mom made sure that I was dressed appropriately for whatever situation arose and my only concern was whether or not the weather would prevent me from going outside to play or not. As a teenager, my interest in the weather increased ever-so-slightly. By this time I (mostly) dressed myself, but was in the fog of adolescence that prevented me from caring about staying warm or dry. No, my interest in the weather was a consistent prayer for rain. Exceptionally bad weather would mean that football practice might be cancelled or moved indoors. A rain-out at work would mean a day off. For those of you familiar with the weather pattern of south Mobile County, I'd find myself sitting in math class during Spring training while we experienced a miniature reenactment of the Deluge outside. Hoping beyond hope that practice would be called off or moved, I would watch in despair as the rain stopped just in time for the start of practice. Not only were we able to practice, but we had the added benefit of doing it in sauna-like conditions. At one point during my junior year, I found myself thinking that if I could just land in the right spot I might be able to take a quick swig from the mud puddle and stave off Death for a few more minutes.

At 30, which I am, as of today, I pay a lot more attention to the weather. I'm not exactly sure why, though. I don't farm or have a garden. The extent of our greenery are the two ferns on our front porch. Regardless, I found myself paying attention throughout our most recent round of drought, counting the days and praying for rain. Maybe this was empathy for those most affected, or perhaps I noticed that all of the grass was dying. Regardless, this would not have bothered me 10 years ago. I'm also interested in the tides. I don't fish all that often, but when I do, I try to take a look at the tide tables and I'll happily report on the phase of the moon and discuss the rising and the falling of the tide. I'm not all that sure what it really means or what in the world it has to do with fishing, but I feel much more knowledgeable when I do. My attempts to discuss things that I have no comprehension of will probably merit another point in this series.

Regardless, I wonder why the beginnings of middle-age have brought on a weather fascination? Will I soon find myself watching the Weather Channel? My wife used to do this. Is that as weird as I think it is? To this point, I've only found it acceptable to watch the Weather Channel during Jim Cantore's hurricane coverage. (Life rule #1 if Jim Cantore is reporting from anywhere near you, seek shelter immediately) It's not a real hurricane party if Jim's not on the tube. Is it possible that my priorities are shifting towards weather-related items? Maybe I'm more observant than I used to be. Friends and readers, will this get worse with age?

4) Item #4 is somewhat related to item #3: The rains will return again. We've been through a little drought here, south of Highway 90. For any of my readers who are not from this area, Highway 90 is the dividing line for Bayou La Batrians. If you live north of 90, you're a Yankee. We've had the driest summer that I can ever remember, marked by lots of hot dry air, all through May, June, and the first half of July. After many weeks of waiting, worrying, and praying, an amazing thing happened: it rained. And it rained, and it rained, and it rained. I'm sure that we've not caught up on our rain yet, but the last two weeks have certainly helped. Things seemed to last forever when I was a child: waiting for Christmas or the end of school, getting my driver's license or leaving for vacation would just never come. Unpleasant situations, poisonous relationships, and broken hearts felt like they would never mend. I just knew that whenever that endpoint would come, then everything would be OK. I've discovered an important truth: It all comes around eventually and the new day will carry it's own troubles. I'm thankful for people who are walking the road ahead of me, because I'm blessed by their wisdom. As often as I told my Dad "I can't wait for..." he would always tell me, "Son, don't wish your life away". He was right.

The rains will come again. Vacation time will be here before you know it. You'll be married soon, then your kids will be grown, and you'll be retired. Don't wish it away. I hope that I've got plenty of years left to enjoy and use this life to the best of my ability, but time will march steadily towards its conclusion whether I'm ready for it or not. My hope for the next 30 years is that I'll spend less time waiting for the rain to come and more of it making the best of the days of drought. God, grant me the grace to trust your mercy to make the days of waiting days of joy.

30 for 30: Part I

In which my readership indulges my ramblings about whatever happens to pop into my head at the moment...

1) Birthdays are funny things. I'm not sure why we place so much emphasis on the passage from one year of life to the next or the significance of the move from one decade to the next. I was born on July 30th, 1981 at Mobile Infirmary, the first child of Claude and Kay Landry. I was named after both of my grandfathers. The choices were Joseph Clinton or Dillard Claude. I'll let you figure out which one they chose. None of us gets to choose our birthday, but if I had been born a day later, I could have shared my special day with Harry Potter (7/30/80). Instead, I'll have to share my birthday with Arnold Schwarzenegger (7/30/47), Sid Krofft (he of HR Puffnstuff fame 7/30/29), and Lisa Kudrow (7/30/63). On a personal note, I share a birthday with my favorite TV chef, Alton Brown of Good Eats fame (7/30/62). The only famous person born on 7/30/81 was US Women's soccer star Hope Solo. Clearly, as a July 30th baby, I'm in good company.

2) Apparently, no great portents heralded my entrance into the world. According to Wikipedia, exactly nothing worth mentioning happened on July 30th, 1981. After a little bit of research, I found that BB King was the special guest on Johnny Carson. Much of the world was tuning in to watch the video of Charles and Diana's little wedding in the UK from the day before, the search had just begun for 6-year old Adam Walsh after his kidnapping and subsequent murder from a Sears store in Hollywood, FL, and Dawda Jawara was deposed as president of the Gambia. Apparently, my arrival made some difference in the world, as Major League Baseball ended its strike the next day and within 36 hours a few thousand cable subscribers in northern New Jersey were able to watch an MTV that featured actual music videos.



Exit thought: Based on the video evidence, the 80's were strange but wonderful times.

A Preacher Looks at 30

"The only time you really live fully is from thirty to sixty. The young are slaves to dreams; the old servants of regrets. Only the middle-aged have all their five senses in the keeping of their wits." - Hervey Allen

It's the big week here on N. Wintzell. Saturday will see my 20's come to a close and I will step into the beginnings of middle age. I don't expect much to change between Friday night and Saturday morning. Many of you who have known me feel like I've been 30 since I was 5. The occasion of my 30th birthday has given me reason to pause for introspection and over the next few weeks, I hope to share some of those insights with you. They'll probably be narcissistic, absurd, self-indulgent, or cliched. But then again, it's MY BIRTHDAY!

So, be on the lookout in the days ahead for my own 30 Thoughts for 30 Years.

One Year Ago...

OK, so it's taken awhile to write this one. It's hard to believe that just over a year ago I started my current journey down N. Wintzell, and I must say that the ride has been a blast. Over the past year, I've had the opportunity to serve a great church, come back to a hometown that I love, and get closer to a family that I've missed over the past few years. We've welcomed a new addition to our family and we've seen our church family grow as well. I don't know what the next year holds for any of us, but I just don't know how it could be any better than this year has been.

One of the highlights of the journey has been writing this blog. I've never really considered myself a writer but I've enjoyed the opportunity to share my thoughts, memories, and experiences with all of you. Hopefully, life will slow down in the days ahead and I'll be able to give the blog a bit more attention. Writing has been good for me and I want to do it more often. Thank you for indulging me and thank you for the many words of encouragement that I've received as I continue to write. If the measure of a man's life is the quality of his friends, than I believe that the last year has proven just how blessed I am. I'm surrounded by some of the best folks a person could ask to associate himself with and I don't take that lightly. I've been taking a look down N. Wintzell and I believe that the view is mighty fine!

A Late Father's Day Thought

I know, I know, the moment's passed. We had the opportunity to celebrate Father's Day Sunday, and I hope that you enjoyed your day as much as I enjoyed mine. Dads are special people (I'm biased, I know) and I know that I've been blessed with a great one. Dads are never more special than when you are five years old. At that point, they carry near-mythic powers. I heard this account of a conversation between a group of five year-olds that I believe is instructive on the subject.

"Three five year old boys were discussing which one of their dads was the smartest. The first little boy told his friends, 'My Dad is so smart, he writes a few words on a scrap of paper, calls it a poem, and they give him $100 for it.' Not to be outdone, the second little boy said, 'Oh yeah! My Dad is so smart, he writes a few words on a scrap of paper, calls it a song, and they give him $1,000 for it.' Finally, the pastor's son spoke up: 'My Dad's smarter than anyone of your dads. He writes a few words on a scrap of paper, calls it a sermon, and it takes four guys to take up all the money!'"

In my mind's eye, my Dad will always be 27. He's not anymore, and when I look at him, I can tell it. But when I think of him, he's always a young guy with dark hair (hair! and dark...)who has just come home from another day of hard work at the shipyard. My kids see him at work today and think he gets dirty. I remember when he came home so nasty you could only see the whites of his eyes. I wanted to play baseball, but my total lack of hand-eye coordination made it difficult. I was never the worst kid on the team, but I was never far off either. Regardless of my lack of skill, he was patient, going out in the backyard to practice with me as often as we had the opportunity. I never became a good baseball player (list this as reason #4,312 for why I am a pastor), but I did get better. It's important that every young boy be able to throw, catch, and hit well enough to not wear the dreaded "swings like a girl" label. I managed to avoid that, and it's all thanks to dear old Dad.

Over the years, he remained patient with me. Whether it was at home or at work, he did his best to teach me the manly arts. Some took, some did not. I'd like to think that the area where the lessons were best learned regard the art of the grill (an article for a later date). While I'm not all that handy, nor particularly proficient at anything requiring much skill, I can do enough to get by. Knowing my skill base, the fact that I reached this point at all should be a great testimony to Dad's patient instructions.

I still count on him. He's still patient. Slowly but surely, I'm learning new things. I'm staring down the barrel of 30 and I have three kids of my own. My Dad's still there for me. And though I've aged and he has too, I still see him as the same young man who filled his son's life with so much wonder. If I'm able to inspire in my children half of what he's inspired in me, I'll be able to look back on this life and say that my job was well done. Here's to you, Dad. Enjoy (a few days late) your day.

I think I'm going to find my boy and go play catch. Try not to be too impressed by my display of athleticism, as you take the drive down N. Wintzell.

VBS Time

If, like many of my readers, you grew up in a small town in Alabama (or really, most anywhere across the region) you probably had the opportunity to participate in one of the Summer's great traditions: Vacation Bible School. We're gearing up for our own VBS here on N. Wintzell, and I'm looking forward to it. If you have children or grandchildren in Kindergarten-6th grade, we'd love to have them come out and participate June 20th-24th from 8:30-11:30am. It'll be a good time!

Now that the commercial is out of the way, a few observations on VBS:

1) At a real VBS, you march in, say pledges, and learn the motto and memory verse for the week. The real key to all of this is the march. My dear Aunt Helen insured that each morning's opening assembly began with a processional into the church from outside. I'm not sure exactly why we have a processional, but we do. Maybe it's because everybody looks forward to the chance to participate in a parade? Regardless, standing around outside in the morning sauna in south Alabama is an important character-building experience that every child should participate in.

2) You can make almost anything with popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners. Over the course of my years as a student at VBS, we made things out of pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks that would have put MacGyver to shame. This is especially important given the fact that I may have been the worst craft-maker in the history of VBS. My poor parents would walk into my classroom each year on parent night to "see what I had made" at VBS this year. Thank God that they always smiled and told me it was great regardless of how poorly I had done. Leave me to memorize Bible verses and answer questions, thanks. I did always wonder, however, what in the world kind of pipes you cleaned with those pipe cleaners and who got to eat all of those popsicles?

3) Snack time was always a real highlight of VBS for me (Surprise!). But the greatest year of VBS I can remember was the year that we rented a sno-cone machine. Unlimited (ok, limited to one) sno-cones right there at my finger tips each and every day... It was heavenly. No begging to stop at a sno-cone shop, I could just go to VBS each day (not that I really had all that much choice in the matter) and when snack time came around I could enjoy my own icy treat. Other favorite snack options include cookies and kool-aid.

4) VBS was also a great opportunity to play with kids that I knew from school and wouldn't otherwise see all summer. There were always lots of kids who came to VBS that didn't usually attend our church and it was a fun time.

5) For one week each summer, a lot of fantastic adults poured out their love for Jesus into my life. Working with kids isn't easy, and at times it can be downright frustrating and disappointing. In the midst of all that, I got to experience the care and affection of good men and women who wanted me to know Jesus the same way that they did. Those weeks of VBS helped shape me and mold me. Now, I get the opportunity to return that investment, as I serve some of those same folks as their pastor. (Be careful what you teach those kids and VBS, they may preach it from your pulpit one day!)

If you're one of those faithful volunteers, thanks for what you do. If you're not, you should be! If you've got kids, grandkids, or great-grandkids, get them out to VBS at your church this summer. In the meantime, I'd really like one of those sno-cones, here on N. Wintzell.