March 2014

Growing up, I remember going to baseball games and getting autographs from the players, didn’t matter who they were. To me, they were larger than life because they were playing baseball.  And the first autograph that I got as a kid, was Jim “Catfish” Hunter, who spoke at my church in North Carolina and from there it has just grown.

Over the years, I continued to go to baseball games and started to grow my collection, picking up autographs from athletes and movie stars. My collection has grown and grown and grown, to the point that I think that my wife is getting concerned. But, a few months ago, I slipped a clause into our will that says that she can’t sell the collection if I were to die before the boys turn 18.  I have really built it up the last 3 years for them. I’ve gotten a lot of the players that I use to watch playing baseball growing up, many who are now in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

At some point in time, I’ll try to put everything into a spreadsheet for the boys, but the autograph collection is getting to be crazy. But, it is a hobby, one that is fun and one that I’ll be able to share with the boys in a few years. I just hope that it is a hobby that they will enjoy and will want to continue.

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Growing up in North Carolina, I UNC Basketball was a way of life. And the rivalries in Tobacco Road with NC State and Dook, these were things that we lived for.  But being a die hard UNC Basketball fan, you learned by watching the legendary coach, Dean Smith. Because, it was not about the individual or the individual awards, but it was about the team. It was about pointing to another player if they give you a pass to score, as a way to say thank you. It was the words of encouragement to lift a team up that is trailing to come back and win the game.

Dean Smith was not a fan of the lime light. He did not want the Dean E. Smith Center to be named for him, because he wasn’t the one the won the games, the team did. That was how Coach Smith was, he didn’t want the attention on him. I was fortunate to meet Coach Smith on a few occasions and he could not have been nicer. He always looked you directly in the eye and made it a point to ask what we wanted to do with our lives and the importance to school. Looking back on that, it is really exactly what I would expect from a teacher.

Coach Smith has been in the media a lot lately, not for his coaching, but for the loss of the man. Not physically, but mentally. Coach Smith has dementia, which in my opinion is one of the worst things that can happen to a person. Dean Smith could remember players names, games, plays, the team managers, but now that is long gone. I found this article yesterday and I couldn’t stop reading it, not because of the way the article talked about how Coach Smith is doing today, but because of all the games, the things that he did for the university in breaking the racial barriers, etc. Coach Smith was a pioneer in many ways, but he was a coach that cared for others first.

I have a DVD that was produced a few years ago for Carolina Basketball and it highlights Coach Smith, so I am able to go back and watch highlights of games that I remember from growing up. I just hate that my boys will never get to see him coach or meet him, because there will never be another Dean Smith.

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It is that time again, the time for Christians to decide what they are going to give up or take on for Lent. Last year, I gave up Coke Zero and you can read more about it here.

I have read that several friends are giving up social media, due to the distraction that it has caused in their lives.   I know that others are giving up soft drinks and chocolates. Well, I think that I’m going to do something different. I had 2 goals that I wanted to focus on this year for myself, reading the bible daily, which I have to say, I’ve been on top of that one. And then I’ve wanted to go to the gym more, which I have not been doing. So, for Lent this year, I am going to make the commitment to go to the gym, at least 2 times a week. And I realize that 2 times a week is not a lot, but it is a start.

 

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The weather man was right, it is another snow day. I’m fortunate that I get to work from home on days like today. And I’m really fortunate that my wife is at home today so that I can stay upstairs and knock out a few reports.

But as I watch the snow fall, I think about my excitement of watching with anticipation and going to the town commons and going sledding. Well today, hopefully after lunch, the computer goes away and I’m taking the boys out to play.

Another snow day, is just one more day to make lasting memories with my boys.

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Growing up in the church, I always remember that people would refer to the church goers that would attend Christmas and Easter as “Those People”. And it hit me this morning, of late, we’ve become “Those People”. I was reading my devotional this morning and it hit me, the biggest part of going to church, was not always the message, but the fellowship with others. With other believers that shared a common belief and faith.

A lot of my earliest memories and closest friends, come from my time running up and down the halls at church. And as I grew and faced some challenges with my family, I took a break from the church. I couldn’t understand how God would allow two people that I knew, the pastor of our church and his son, to die with in the same week. So I quit going.

Two years later, I get a phone call from my mother and my sister’s best friend’s mom just died.  My mom asked me to goto the funeral, which I did and something happened while I was there, I found that fellowship again. I found that common belief and that faith that I had been missing, in the the funeral that day.  Then I moved.

Living in Texas, it is true, a lot of things are really bigger in Texas, including the churches.  I went to one of the two Methodist churches in town and went to grab a hymnal only to realize that I was the only one in the sanctuary not reading the words off the wall from the projector. I struggled to fit in, but was on this roll and didn’t want to be one of “Those People” again. Then one day, a friend in my small group suggested that a few of us check out the other Methodist church in town, because it was smaller. So I took a chance.

4 years later, I missed only a handful services and cried the day that I moved and left that church. I was a part of a church for the first and loved every minute. Even though I traveled a lot for work, I stopped by the church to pray before every flight in our open 24 hr chapel. I was very close to our associate pastor, who I met with once a week for coffee and was one of the greatest men that I have ever gotten to know. But a job came along, so I moved again.

I really struggled finding a new church when I got to the Northeast, the Methodist churches here just didn’t seem to have caught up with what we were doing in church, so I disengaged, I was frustrated. I became one of “Those People” again.

Then, a few months later, I met my now wife.  We were talking one day about church and I told her my background and how I’ve struggled to find a church, which was perfect because she was really involved with her Methodist church and wanted me to come with her to meet her friends and family.  Because we lived 45 miles from the church, we didn’t always go, but we went at least 3 of the 4 Sundays each month. Then we were forced to face the tragic and untimely death of her mom and we became more involved than ever.  Then we had kids.

For the first year, we did ok. Then I needed to make a change and go to a different church, due to some philosophical differences that I had with the local church. We found a church much closer to home and the boys enjoyed going. Then, the boys started getting sick and we didn’t want other kids to get sick, so we stayed home. Then my wife would be on call and taking the boys to church when they are 2, was a little more than I could handle, so we stayed home. We were tired, usually because Baby A wasn’t sleeping, so we stayed home. The weather would be icy/snowy, so we stayed home. Soon, it just became an excuse and we were “Those People”.

Today, as I was looking outside, it hit me, it hit me, I miss the fellowship. I miss the connection that I would feel when going to church. I miss those memories of being around others, that shared a like belief and faith. And I felt guilty that  I haven’t been more proactive with taking the boys to church. But no more. No more excuses. No more reasons that are not legit. I can’t and will not get back into that habit again. I will not deny my boys the opportunity to start a life of faith and build their beliefs. Starting today, we are no longer “THOSE PEOPLE”.

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