A Life Well Lived

By all accounts, Tim Russert was a pretty incredible guy.

Of course, I didn’t know him. But I did “listen” to the Meet the Press podcast pretty regularly. I always liked his style. Straightforward. Dogged. Personable, yet direct. He asked the questions we wanted to ask. He didn’t throw up any gifts. Even though Chris Matthews has the show “Hardball,” Russert played hardball every week.

I knew he had written a book about growing up called “Me and Big Russ.” I haven’t read it – but I probably will now. (It’s interesting to me how little we want things to change, really. I don’t think I would have ever read that book – but now that Russert’s dead, I want to hold on to him for a little longer.)

What has impacted me most in the coverage of his death has been this simple statement that he made about his book. He said this:

“My father has read it, and my son has read it. And that makes it all worthwhile.”

I’m impressed by that. He’s had tons of accolades heaped on him posthumously. He’s been called “the greatest journalist of our time” and other lofty titles. But it’s this very simple life principle – that we are all just links in a generational chain that connects us to those who came before us and to those who will carry on without us is a great life lesson.

CPR

So, you sit around for years and years thinking, “you know, I ought to learn CPR.” Then, you finally take the course, get certified and feel like you’re ready to help the little old lady across the street, or an aging parent, or someone at church.

Or a 30-year-old, 6′3″ North Carolina highway patrolman running at the beach.

That’s what my girl did. On our first day of vacation, Aprill says “call 911, there’s a guy laying in the road” as she runs out the front door of the house. I’m running around trying to FIND the phone and by the time I get outside, she’s finishing her second round. She said to me, “take a round, I’m tired.” But the results were already there. He was breathing, and we just kept him stable until Medic arrived.

He is fine. A night in the hospital, tests, and now he’s back on the road. And I’m living with a hero.

Learn CPR. Do it sooner rather than later. I will say – knowing that there was something we could do was a good feeling.

Charleston

OK, Charleston is really good.I have to explain this statement a little to all of you Charlestonophiles out there who have always extolled to us the virtues of Charleston (and whom we’ve largely ignored).Aprill and I have spent the last couple of days in Mt. Pleasant, SC, just across the Cooper River bridge (officially named the Ravenel Bridge – one of the prettiest bridges I’ve ever seen. Google it!) We’ve been with our good friends Joe and Stephanie Shuster who have been house-swapping here for about 3 months. Mt. Pleasant is one of the coolest waterfront communities in the Carolinas. Mainly residential, quaint. Of course, like all Carolina coastal communities, housing here has become completely ridiculous. A shack costs $750,000. Oh well – glad I don’t really want to live here.Anyway, we had only been to Charleston once before – about 16 years ago – and we just didn’t really have that great a time. So we haven’t been back. Our loss. Just walking around Charleston is a visual feast. To me, it’s New Orleans without the trash and decadence. The homes are gorgeous. The streets are picturesque. You can look into the backyards of the homes and imagine all of the events that have happened there through the centuries.There is amazing food. We had mahi mahi both nights! Sunday night we went to a restaurant near the beach, and last night grilled at the Shusters. Yummy. Love mahi. We brought Henry, and it’s been fun hearing Joe campaign to Stephanie all three days about how nice it would be to have a dog. We thought about renting him to them for a month, but I think we’ll go ahead and take him home with us today.The Shusters used to own “Java Joe’s” in Charlotte. So they have a really nice espresso/cappuccino maker. It’s hard to beat fresh cappuccino made by a professional when you get up in the morning.As if it couldn’t get any better, we spent both days here relishing in Tennessee heading to Charlotte to play in the Sweet 16 on Thursday. Anyone hear of any available tickets? (BY THE WAY…I have no idea why when I post on Aprill’s computer it doesn’t break paragraphs. Sorry!) 

A Surprisingly Good Sunday

Today was Youth Weekend at church. We only have two “special” weekends a year – Youth Weekend, and Senior Weekend. (They’re weekends now because we have 5:21 Saturday!) What makes them special is essentially a 5-minute presentation within the context of the service.

But one of the things that I’ve committed to is giving our youth worship team the platform in the Cafe on Youth and Senior Weekends. I always play the role of lead worshiper to keep the flow, manage the transitions, etc. Since this was only my third time doing it since becoming worship pastor, I had moderate expectations. They’re always zealous, but not always focused.

This year, big difference. I really, really enjoyed myself. The team was amazing. These kids led one of the best worship services that I’ve ever been a part of. The vocals were stellar. The musicianship was professional. These were 16- and 17-year-olds, and the music was spot on.

For any of you who have the chance to work with the next generation’s leaders, I encourage you to do so. I don’t do it enough. But here’s what I see when I look into the future. I see adults like me sitting around a restaurant talking about things, and one of them says, “when I was a kid, we tried to have a worship team in our youth group…” Then, he or she will say one of two things. 1)”…but no one really seemed to care. We didn’t get any encouragement.” or 2)”…and there was this guy named Chuck Jones, and he really encouraged us and helped us.”

I don’t always make it – but I sure want that conversation to end in #2. If you have the chance, make sure yours is #2, too.

I’ll try to post an mp3 of a song from today. To Brad, Brian, Hannah, Madeline, Julie, Anthony and Daniel, it was incredible.

Mark, Henry and God

I’m kind of a morning person. I was never the kid whose mom had to drag him out of bed kicking and screaming. I like waking up, getting up and getting my day started.

But not as much as Henry. He’d get up at 4:30 and take off around the block with me in rain, snow, sleet or a firestorm. He loves the morning.

One of the things that I love most about getting up is seeing how happy he is that I am up. He is elated that I’ve finally decided to get up and take advantage of this new day with him (even if FINALLY is 5:30 AM) . He runs around, stretches, gives me some sniffs, huffs and puffs. He delights in my presence.

In a way, it’s probably a bit blasphemous to compare your dog to God. But yesterday, Pastor Mark’s lesson was so simple and yet so powerful. No histrionics. No theatre. No razzmatazz. Just a simple message from Isaiah 62:

“No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah (which means ‘my delight is in her’), and your land Beulah; for the LORD will take delight in you, and your land will be married. As a young man marries a maiden, so will your sons marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.”

I heard him say it Saturday night, and it made me feel so good that I made it a point to hear it again two times on Sunday. And it never got old to me. And it never will. The simple message that God loves me, takes delight in me – even more than Henry in the morning – is enough to get me through anything.

Weddings

OK, I’m not afraid to admit it. I love weddings. And I love the receptions that follow.

On Saturday, Graylyn Kallam and Manny Rodrigues were married in an afternoon ceremony accompanied by a rare, January snow. I didn’t get to attend the ceremony because I was preparing to lead 5:21 Saturday – but I got to watch the prelims. The bride and her court posed for pictures and hammed it up for videos OUTSIDE. Guests arrived decked out in both formal and semi-formal wear.

Then, the reception afterward with the presentation of the bridal party and finally, the new husband and wife. There was great food, music, dancing and an air of celebration.

One reason I’ve come to love weddings so much is that, in a way, they are the last of the formal celebrations in which we engage as family and friends. There are still formal events. But weddings bring us together in a way that other events do not.

While I am about as informal as they come, I do miss that some of the formality that we used to cling to is gone. People go to performances in jeans and tennis shoes. Fewer and fewer of us (and I include myself in this group) dress up for church. We’re casual to the max. And while I love that, I do miss some of the pageantry that “dressing for the occasion” brings.

Weddings have been frozen in the old ways. And I love that.

Mr. C

I’ll just call him Mr. C.

When you decide to train your dog to be a therapy dog, you make the decision to get involved in lives at a different level. As Andy (our trainer says), “you’re going to share your dog’s love with other people.”

It would be hard to find someone who enjoys a dog’s love more than Mr. C. “I’ve had dogs all my life…sometimes as many as 6 at once. I love dogs. I wish I could have one now.”

“You can’t have one now,” replies Mrs. C. “But you can enjoy these dogs while there here.” And he does. He laughs as he pets the dogs. He talks about the dogs with whom he shared his life. He strokes their heads, calls them “good dog” and talks about how beautiful they are.

Henry and Angel and Daisy all take their turn, and Mr. C spends time with each of them. His fingers in their fur, he talks to them and relives his youth. And we learn about how to grow older and stay plugged in.

When we leave, he always says, “I really appreciate you bringing the dogs. I’ll see you next time.” And we walk out, better for the time spent.

There are good things at every turn.