This you have to see!

A few years ago we lived in a place where natural beauty was sparse. There were usually birds in view, some geometrically placed trees, plants clinging to life, and the ever-changing sky. There was a river that ran by at the foot of the hotel in which we lived. On a clear day standing on a footbridge you could see that the river really is, amazingly, teaming with life. Waterfowl floated on its surface. Big fish prowled the bottom, Catfish and Suckers – Bottom dwellers. …

When my grandfather was saved he was just twelve years old. It was in a revival service at the Methodist Church in Chatham, Ohio. He was even lay preacher once when he was a boy and he felt called to be a pastor. But some things confused him. There must have been some sin, some youthful lust, some worldly tug that made him wonder of he was really saved. Maybe he wasn’t.

Many years ago Richard Baxter accepted a call to a church in England in a town where few knew and loved the Lord. He preached faithfully and powerfully but he did more than that. He dealt individually with every member of the community. He made disciples among the people of the community. Two full days a week he started at one end of the village and went to every house speaking to every member of every house and asking in-depth questions about what they believed. …

I knew you would all want to see this photo. Lois went to Mishawaka today and took over 300 pictures. This is one of my favorites. Elizabeth, Kyle, and the world’s most adorable grandson.

Gravel roads girdled the gentle hills of rural Licking County. I rode the bright yellow school bus that growled along them one fall afternoon. It was comfortably cool. The sun was going down the crisp blue, October sky. From my seat in the bus I watched the fields and forests pass. Wind stirred golden fields of corn drying for harvest. Bright sunlight glistened off blue farm ponds. Red and yellow Maples stirred up a love of and longing for beauty in me that has never been fully satisfied.

This evening I was doing some thinking and some remembering about autumn evenings. In the neighborhoods of my youth the smell of burning leaves was a part of what made autumn, autumn. Apple pie, pumpkins, indian corn, cider and donuts, and tart Johathan apples in my lunch sack or eaten with my Dad on the back steps on a Saturday morning while listening to Big Ten football chatter and fight songs on the radio fill my fall memories.
This evening I got to thinking about how political correctness has robbed us …

I’m not all that sharp but I have learned a few things from being a father of eight and husband of over twenty-five years. Left to themselves young boys usually do not do a very good job on cleaning the garage. They either fight with each other or they just frog around and do a halfway job.

Celebrating success is an important and fun part of being a good dad. Today Hannah and I went on a little date to the Secretary of State’s office to get her learner’s permit. She has studied diligently and she was ready for her written exam. There were over one hundred people waiting for service but they moved us efficiently through the lines like cattle on sale day.