A Soggy Prayer

A wonderful thing happened this morning.

After getting the the boys off to school, it rained during my two-mile walk. And then it rained some more ... harder still. Because the unpaved track behind our local Y has a tendency to get very slick, muddy and rutted when it's wet, I only tried to run during the first half-mile or so while it was still sprinkling.

As the downfall got heavier, I stopped for a moment to put my iPod in the car. My glasses fogged up and drops of water were making their way back and forth on the bill of my old-school Braves cap before finally falling off. I was getting soaked, but for the last mile and a half, all I could hear was the sound of the rain in the trees and the steady crunch ... crunch ... crunch of my footsteps.

It was just me, God and the rain.

Lord, help me to be a better dad. Let me have more patience.

Crunch ... crunch ... crunch ...

You know the things Jesse faces. Help him cope. He's so smart, waaaay smarter than his old man.

God, Adam is such a character. All I ask is that he can always have that same sense of almost overwhelming joy.

And Richard ... dear God, Richard. You name the time and the place, and I will be there.

Crunch ... crunch ... crunch ...

Be with Jeanie. There's no way I could ever do her job. Grant her wisdom.

Speaking of jobs, You know that one I've been going after so hard for so long? Any chance of You helping me out on that one?

Please?

Losing weight is so hard. Please help me stick with it this time.

Crunch ... crunch ... crunch ...

Father, for whatever reason, You've seen fit for me to be elected as a deacon at my church again. I do not want to fuss. I do not want to argue.

Every church has challenges, so when they take place at Maplewood, help us to be Christians first and right or wrong second.

Crunch ... crunch ... crunch ... 

Master Motivator

Gray Garrison, the promoter at Bowman Gray Stadium and a realtor here in Yadkinville, is a master motivator.

The 5k fundraiser for the Victory Junction Gang Camp is less than three weeks away, and this morning at church, I spoke for a few minutes about the race I'm going to run and why it's important to me. I told folks how they could contribute and left it at that.

After the service, Gray came up to me and asked what kind of time goal I've set for myself. As I've written here before, I hope to run it in 40 minutes or less. I believe I might be able to make it -- the last two times I've done a three-mile training run/walk, I've finished in 36 and then 35 minutes. Add in an extra fifth of a mile and the very hilly terrain around Victory Junction, and I might be able to make it.

Maybe.

Gray grinned, took a $100 bill out of his billfold and tore it in half. He kept one portion and handed me the other. "You can have the other half when and if you make it in 40 minutes," he said. Then, he added something else that caught me completely off guard.

"You can have the other half for 40 minutes ... and I'll double it if you finish in 35."

No pressure there, huh? I'm not promising anything, but I'm going to give it my best shot. Here's a thought ... if I finish in 30 minutes, how 'bout naming me the official pace-car driver at Bowman Gray Stadium next season?!?

What say you, Gray Garrison?

No. 48

Don't know how it happened exactly, but I've developed kind of a weird habit when the boys are in the process of getting in trouble.

Instead of saying something I'll regret and have to apologize for later, I've taken to saying, "For the love of ..." -- and here's the strange part -- I'll include the name of a baseball player from the 1970s or 80s. Thing is, the better the player, the more they know it's just a warning shot across the bow.

For the love of Pete Rose ...

For the love of Mike Schmidt ...

For the love of Tony Perez ...

For the love of Johnny Bench ...

For the love of Nolan Ryan ...

They're OK, for the time being. But if I start evoking scrubs, Adam and Jesse know for a fact that the four horses of the apocalypse are about to head through our house.

For the love of Biff Pocoroba ... Jesse, we're dead men.

For the love of Ed Armbrister ... hide. NOW!!!

Thanks ... I Think

Leaving the Y this morning, I met an older gentleman I hadn't seen in a while. He's always been encouraging, and he asked how much weight I've lost so far. When I told him, he smiled and gave me the ultimate backhanded compliment. He said, "You're about where you need to be. Now, you just look like a really big man."

Well ... gee. Thanks, I think. What did I look like before, a fat, hideous ogre?!?

No, wait. Don't answer that ...

No. 47

The ground shook and the windows rattled. What could this possibly be? A truck going by, surely. Thunder? Can't be ... there's not a cloud in the sky. It couldn't be ... no. Not an earthquake, not here in Yadkinville.

Adam walked into my office, his eyes as big as saucers and very clearly scared. Most of the time, he is a ball of energy, joking and trying make folks laugh. This was not one of those times. "Dad ... what was that?!?" he asked with urgency in his voice. "Dad, are we OK?"

Yes, we were fine. There was little or no damage involved in the quake that had its epicenter in Virginia, but how do you convince a frightened child that it wasn't another Japan? He knew what happened there and he had just felt the ground move beneath his own feet. I will never forget the look on his face or the sound of his voice.

Jesse never missed a beat, kept right on playing with a buddy who was spending the afternoon at our house. Later, Jeanie asked if he'd been scared. His reply, a full day later, gets the best of me. "A little bit," he said. "But I wasn't nearly as scared as the kids in Haiti."

The perspective of a child ...

Who Is That?

I had something kind of cool happen at Adam's soccer practice the other night.

There's a kid on the team who looks EXACTLY like Goldberg from the "Mighty Ducks" movies, chubby cheeks, jet black hair and everything. This is at least the third straight year they've played together, so I know the young man and he knows me. Or so I thought.

As they practiced, I walked some laps around the field. The kid had seen me coming in with Adam, and he asked him, "Who is that?" Adam said, "That's my dad."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. Why in the world do you think it's not my dad?!?"

"Well ... he doesn't look the same."

Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ... if I had the money, I'd buy the kid a car.

That said, I hit a new milestone this morning. After working out at the Y this morning, I went to the doctor's office and weighed. I have now lost exactly 70 pounds since late June 2010. From my heaviest ever, I'm down 85, but I'm not counting that. Before starting my current routine, I didn't care one way or the other. I was headed back to my heaviest weight ... and beyond.

No. 46

As most of you know, Jeanie was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 2006 and then had it come back a couple of years later. She is now cancer-free, but has to have regular checkups to make sure things are still in check.

Yesterday was one of those appointments. The boys and I were going to go with her to the doctor's office, and before she got home from work, they were asking how long the visit was going to take. I told them I wasn't sure, but we'd stay there for as long as it took to make sure she was OK.

Because of the issues he faces, it's sometimes hard to gauge just how Jesse truly feels about things. This time, it was not.

In no uncertain terms, he declared, "If it helps keep Momma from getting cancer again, I'll stay at the doctor's office for a month."

Considering my family's history with cancer, his words rang in my ears. If it would have kept my mom and dad from going through the things that they did, then yeah ... me, too, Jesse. I would've gladly camped out at the doctor's office.