i miss them

School is back in session.  Both of my daughters are no longer at the office during the day.  I miss them here.

There was a long period of time this Summer that our family was running on just one vehicle.  The old van was in the shop for a month due to a mysterious electrical problem.  Gina needed our only car running to drive to and from the nursing homes.  The girls and I were stranded together at the office during the work day.

It wasn't bad mind you.  Most of the days we brought sandwich materials from home to have lunch.  A few times a week Katie, Kelsey and I would close up shop at noon and hang an Out To Lunch note on the door.  We'd walk to lunch.  I miss THAT.  We'd hold hands, talk and laugh as we strolled together downtown.

Sometimes the three of us would venture down Broad for a  monster  of a club sandwich at Gadsden Variety & Deli or for a hotdog from Connie's Coney's.  The girls liked sitting outside under the shade of the umbrella and munch on a hotdog with chili and cheese.  Sometimes we'd venture down Chestnut for a reuben sandwich at the Downtown Deli.  Kelsey hasn't acquired the taste for a good reuben as of yet.  She'll take the ham & cheese.

Here I am writing about food.  I can get that stuff any old day.  What I MISS is enjoying lunch with my daughters.  I miss walking to lunch with them.  I miss sitting down and enjoying them on a Summer day.

Today  I sit alone at my office and contemplate what I'm going to do for lunch.  I find myself opting out.  It's just not as fun without my girls.

armed for school

Early childhood is a time when little ones are buffered from the world.  For most of us, the family unit was the comfortable cocoon in which to learn as we grew under the broad wing of parental love, guidance and encouragement.  Our world was our family.  Before we knew it, we found ourselves standing alone looking up at the towering doorways of public education for the first time.  Like a young bird being pushed from the nest, school was our first experience of first flight.

As a parent, I experienced emotions that my parents must have felt.  I remember looking in the rear-view mirror and losing sight of my young child as she became part of a herd.  It doesn’t seem that long ago that I watched Katie as she was shepherded into the building by a stranger.  I could hear the bell ring in the distance and remembered what it felt like to experience walking down those institutional walls for the very first time.  Like my first born, came my second child, and the feelings never changed.  With both children I felt both anxious and a little sad.

I was anxious because she was no longer completely within my protection.  I was anxious that she was now in a strange land without her father and mother.  I was a little sad because with each passing year, we have to let go a little more.  As parents, we begin learn to lean on God a little more.  We pray that our children will be okay in the world.  They begin by learning new things and experience new adventures.  They will bring home crayon masterpieces, construction paper hats, and progress with reading, writing and arithmetic.  When they are little, they look forward to the next school day.

By junior high, the landscape has changed.  The kid’s have been out there and know now what to expect.  By junior high, education isn’t bated with sugar cookies and recess.  Teachers are getting down to business, expecting their pupils to get down to business and bear the responsibility of learning.  Something more is going on though, more than classes and homework.  Something deeper and darker awaits our children.  Evil awaits!

As this year approaches I see it in my daughter’s countenance.  As the last week dwindled down to the last few days of Summer’s freedom.   She ponders the pending future with an uncertain gloom.  I can see it on her face and hear it in her voice.  School for her growing up was a happy place.  But now she approaches her new high school year as a soldier would D-Day. She is braced, but not feeling ready.

School is an unavoidable an un-erasable sentence.  School is a child’s first encounter with the world.  For those who were raised in Christian homes, they will experience first-hand the merciless salvos of principalities and darkness.  They are bused into a world where children are often cruel to one another.  Here young souls experience darts and arrows targeted directly at them.  Children can be cruel.  Peer groups, social elites.  Here the world sharply divided those who are weak, from those who are strong, those who are big, from those who are small, those who are pretty, from those who are plain, those who are rich, from those who are poor.  On the campus, let the cruelness begin.  Oh how the enemy in this world sets his forces against our own children, to break their spirit.

School approaches my child, and there is no stopping it.  It’s going to be a head on collision and I sympathize with her gloom of the looming inevitability of Monday.  As her parent, she seems to not believe that I was once there too.

Last night I told my child that as she pursues the Kingdom of God in her life, she will experience a Matrix moment.  If she is to overcome this world in her life, she will need to see the world for what it really is.  I believe she will see it.  She will see herself fighting not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and darkness.  She will see through the façade and see her part in this battle.  Each day is masquerade and she will learn to see behind the masks.   She will see the world as Jesus does.  Lost.

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."
-Ephesians 6:12

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh: for the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exaulteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of  Christ."
-2 Corinthians 10-5

Elitism has an ugly face. The lost soul will try to make another feel small, in order to feel big.  The lost soul will make another feel dumb, in order to feel smart.  How noble is a heart that would make another appear the nerd, in order to feel cool?  How beautiful is the heart that would make another feel ugly, in order to feel pretty?  It’s a small world after all.

The world is filled with fallen children of Adam.  This world is filled with a humanity that is self-absorbed, self-serving, and self-righteous.  This is what God sees.  This is why God sent His beloved Son.  The Matrix moment for everyone is to see that the world is filled with lost children.  It is in school that our children must learn to be in this mess, but not of it.

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.
-1 John 4:4

This is why I am sending my children to school armed.  Self-confidence is a good thing, but a child needs to be given more.  They need to be armed for the world with something sharp.  They need protection. The child needs the sword of truth, the shield of faith, the breastplate of righteousness.   My children need to have the mind of Christ. Katie reads her Bible daily.  I see that life is already putting the Word in her to the test.  All the scripture that she’s read have yet to reveal its full meaning.  She has still yet to experience enough life, not yet experienced all that is in the world.  Like the young rulers of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia, my children will be tested, but they will not be unarmed.  The Word is in them and their parents are equipping them and giving them continual prayer support.   We want them to know God and know His voice, no matter how far they are from us.

"We must put on the whole armor of God.  We must have the character of Jesus Christ.  It is impossible to have the power of God without having the character of God, which is holiness."
-Ephesians: 6: 10-18

As we each travel in the world, we learn what it means to be in it and not of it.  We learn that through each encounter, each valley, each hardship, we will find God’s glory beyond each personal conflict.  We can give thanks that no matter what we endure, we can overcome if we are always in Him.  It is how we weather the most difficult times that forges our character.  As we lean on Him, and go through life pursuing His Kingdom in our lives, we begin to take on the character of Christ.  Something I have discovered about my Creator, He redeems all of our hardships.  If we go with God in this world, we will come out the other end different.

And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
-2 Corinthians 12:9

The world would have my children think little of their selves.  As a father, I am given the eyes of God to see my children for who they truly are.  My daughters are beautiful inside and out.  They are each a gift from God and gifted by God in their own unique way.  They are loving creatures that love to love and love to laugh.  They will sing to the world their own song.  Yes, each of their lives a beautiful song to God’s glory.  The world will continue to lie, but we know that the world is a liar.  Gina and I will do our best to raise them in the light for as long as we have their lives to keep.

"These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world."
-John 16:33

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. This is true holiness."
Philippians: 4:8

So off to school my lovely children, off into the world you go.  You have God and God has you.
 

God on Katie!

God on Kelsey!

God on your children too!

somewhere out there

Mark & Brook jam at Skylight after the wedding. Sept 1, 1990

Back in 1986-87, I met Mark Edward Stephens.  I was sitting in the break room during classes at the Art Institute where I struck up a conversation with one of the music institute students.  Mark was a big friendly fellow.  We were both Christians, both enjoyed singing/songwriting, both trying to get a foothold on life.  I was in my late twenties and Mark was in his early thirties.  We connected.

I met Mark during a spiritually hard time.  I was disconnected because I had allowed other folk to affect my Christian walk.  Sure I was wounded, but looking back I know that I made the choice to distance myself from God.  Atlanta to me was a worldly jungle.  I told Mark that I needed to connect and he said that he too needed to find some fellowship.  We decided to venture out Sunday mornings together and find a church. 

After all that driving around I never found a church, but I did find good fellowship in my new friend.  We got together on several occasions and worked on songs.  Once he asked me over to his his apartment and we hung out throughout the night and hammered out a song 'Little Davids'.  I wish I remembered all the words.  All that plays in my head now is just the chorus.

Little Davids everywhere
if you love me
if you care
then feed my sheep
-feed my sheep

As always, I'd churn out the rhythm and sing the melody.  My more talented guitarist friend would lace the song with lead guitar and add harmony.  It was a good night.  Our talks would go on for hours upon hours.  We were so very different, but our lives where on the same chord at that moment.  He was a good friend.

Mark once came to stay with me one weekend after I moved back to Gadsden.  I was renting an apartment on Walnut Street at the time.  He brought his guitar and we spent most of the time talking or playing.

The last time I saw Mark was at my wedding.  He drove from Atlanta to attend.  I only got a chance that day to thank him for coming and give him a hug.  Mark hung around after the rice and got to know Brook a little.  He went to Skylight and jammed a little with my brother.

I lost contact with Mark not long afterward.  I often wondered what happened to my old friend.  I once tried calling various Atlanta Christian radio stations asking if they knew him, but no one would respond.  Have a rather common name, I gave up with the exception of occasional online searches.

A few days ago I was Googling his name, trying different combinations.  I finally typed in Mark+Stephens+Atlanta+Radio and found his obituary.  I don't know why I keep doing this to myself.

I'm sorry Mark for losing touch with you.  You were a good friend.  I know we'll meet again.

I'm not dead yet.

Here's another re-post (February 22, 2006) from my old tripod blog.  I still hear the same.  I still feel the same about it.

Now Playing: plenty of kingdom work to go around

I've heard statements and comments from various folks over the months in which I have disagreed. No big deal mind you because ruffled feathers can easily be put back into place. A few days ago I was talking to a brother who said he didn't agree with something he had heard. He repeated the very same thing that I had been thinking. I thought to myself, "Hrm, it's not just me then."

There have been comments that God is on a certain person within the church or that God is on a certain age group. That the older ones should step aside (that it's not our time anymore) and make way for a younger anointed few. I think it's a silly notion.

Funny thing, I feel God saying, "Hey David, I want to use you today...I am anointing this and am being glorified when you do that." Look at me, I am a 50-something, overweight, and odd looking character and YET God still chooses to put his hand on me and deem me useful enough for kingdom business.

Anyone who draws close to God will be embraced by their Heavenly Father. The only reason some people aren't used dramatically are because they do not offer themselves to be used dramatically. God has uniquely designed each of us to glorify Him in our own way. Anyone desiring to be filled completely must empty themselves completely. The less selfish and self absorbed we become, the more He can and will use us.

God never put anyone out to pasture. He never discards a loved one. He just eventually takes 'em home. Last week Gina was at a nursing home and an old man there ministered to her. He was a sweet old Godly man with Alzheimer's disease and his outlook on life and servant spirit blessed Gina.

Truth is, there is plenty of room here, plenty of work to be done for the old and young alike. No one should stand in the way of anyone and no one should be held back. The workers are few. Move in Him and He will be on and with you.

The only special generation I see today is the one fading in the rear view mirror. We each view things from the lens of our short life span. If there is a greater generation among us, then it was the one that came before us. The generation that was earmarked not for their talent and abilities but rather for their quiet sacrifices.

As for the younger generation...God be on you. You've got the energy, less battle scars, and a lot of passion. It's a beautiful thing.

May God bless ALL of you. Go spread His aroma around by living out His love in your day today.

leone would be proud

My girls wanted to rent something from Redbox and so they picked the computer-generated film RANGO.   I wasn't planning on watching it with them.  I was going to go about cleaning house as they enjoyed a kid movie together.  There was something about the sounds coming from the next room that kept drawing me back in, so I sat down and watched it.

I don't care for most kid movies that come out.   There have been exceptions.   I really enjoyed the SHREK.  I liked the first CARS, TOY STORY 1, 2, & 3 as well as UP.   I am a big fan of the exceptions.  Most kid movies though have little for the adults in the audience.  I think it's a bad move.  After all, it's we the adults that take their children to the movies and have to sit through it.   I can't tell you how many kid movies I've paid to go see and ended up falling to sleep.  RANGO is one of the exceptions, because it is exceptional.  It offers more than great characters and a good storyline.

What I like most about Rango is that it's a good Western with desert animals and reptiles in the cast.  Not only is it a good Western, but a good Italian Western.  It was like the entire film was paying tribute to the work of Sergio Leone.  I believe that any avid fan of Leone and the Spaghetti Western genre would appreciate this flick.   

Down through the decades directors have tried to pull off a Leone-esque Western.  Very few have given us anything thing memorable.  The most recent success was Quentin Tarrentino's WWII adventure The Inglorious Bastards.  Rango offers us some animated Leone, a familiar style, sounds and textures - making up a very unique film.

The cinematography of this movie is fascinating.  The film offered non-stop references to Spaghetti Westerns.  For any Leone fans out there, listen for the sounds, watch how each scene is framed, the characters.  I know my kids just enjoyed the characters, the action, and the humor - but dad sat there and enjoyed Rango on a completely different level.  Rango offered the grown-up in the room something special.

fallen fortress

While talking to the old airman at the Mighty Eighth Museum in Savannah, he told me that the Liberty Belle had flown her last.  The plane caught on fire and the pilot landed the plane in time for the crew to escape.

2007 flight on the Liberty Belle:

therein lies the rub

Gina had to work throughout the weekend as well as the Fourth of July holiday.  We've been on one car for an entire  month now.  Gina took the VW Monday morning and had it for the majority of the day.  My daughters and I spent the day stranded at home and making good use of the situation.  We cleaned house.

Usually we don't do anything special for the fourth. This time we had some ribs in the fridge.  I took some time from housecleaning to rub down the ribs - prepping them for the grill.  The two for one deal at Winn Dixie allowed for more meat than our small family needed.  Gina's been working so hard - I thought she might like to see her mom a little.  I called Mrs. Hale and asked her if she'd like to come over and help us gnaw on some dead pig bones.

We had a pretty big spread and all of us ate entirely too much.  Mrs. Hale brought over a big bowl of her incredible green beans.  She also made a pan full of fried okra.  I didn't ask her to bring anything, but glad she did.  It was a feast.  After the meal and the table was cleared, Gina and her mom sat down for a game of Scrabble.  They both seemed to have a good time together.

The one about the grill:

For years Gina had been push the idea of own a grill off on me.  She didn't want to just go buy one without justifying it as a birthday, Father's Day, or Christmas present.  She'd always ask me if I wanted a grill for a present.  I'd always turn the offer down.  I am not a grill person.  Unlike a lot of men, I don't find pleasure in owning or cooking on a grill.  I'd just as soon cook on a stove top.  The house has air conditioning and I don't have to scrape and scrub the eye of a stove like I do an outdoor grill.  Now I LOVE food smoked/cooked on a grill - but I'd just as soon pay somebody who knows how to do it better than I can.

Every time a birthday, Father's Day or Christmas rolled around Gina would ask the same question.  "How would you like a BBQ grill?"  It took her well over a decade to finally get the message that I didn't want a damn grill for a present.

Eventually she started a different approach by saying, "It coming up on our anniversary, or let's make OUR Christmas (or Anniversary) present to each other a grill."

"Gina." I'd say to her, "let's just go buy a grill and not make it a present."  I don't want it as a present - even if it's a shared present. I'd just as soon we buy a tire jack for each other.   "I don't want a grill."  Gina's mind doesn't work that way.  The expense of a grill has to be justified as a gift for some reason.  There was no sense debating it.  I didn't want the gift of a grill because I knew that it was a gift that had to keep on giving.  Like I said, I find no great joy in grilling.

The last time she mentioned giving me a grill - I told her that it wasn't I that wanted the grill.  I told Gina that it was SHE that wanted the grill.  If SHE wanted the grill - let's go to Lowes and just don't buy her a grill.

About three or four years ago Gina handed me a Lowes Black Friday Ad. She had circled a picture of the grill SHE wanted and told me to go get it.  "This grill is what I want for Christmas."
Okay.  I immediately went over to Lowes and bought it.  I took it home and assembled it.  It was a nice looking grill.  I hauled it up the stairs onto the deck.  It's been used about six times since its purchase.  I noticed while making the ribs yesterday how faded it looked.  It's even got some rust spots on it.

City of Savannah

"City of Savannah" 5000th airplane processed through Hunter Field, GA in 1944

While roaming the Combat Gallery at the Mighty Eighth Air Force Museum, an old airman approached me to talk about the B-17, 'City of Savannah' on display.  He told me that this particular Flying Fortress was built toward the end of the war never left The States.  Nevertheless, this bomber has an interesting history.

It was purchased for $350.00 after the war's end and used to fight fires.  Go rent the 1989 movie Always and you'll get a good idea what kind of combat this old bird experienced.  This B-17 was retired from the fire department in the 1970's and ended up at National Air and Space Museum until 2009.

It was then disassembled and trucked down 1-95 to the Might Eighth facility.  The ball turret and tail gun section had been removed decades ago to fight fires.  The old vet told me that they've secured a tail gun section and will be installing it soon.

You can see images of her restoration on facebook.

the mighty eighth

B-17 "Flying Fortress" being restored at the museum.

I was welcomed at the door by a kindly old veteran.  He introduced himself as we shook hands.  While visiting the Mighty Eighth Air Force Museum in Savanah, I could tell on the faces of all three old guides, that they were proud to be there.  At one point, one of the old gentlemen said that he's just as proud of his service to the Mighty Eighth Army Air Force Museum just much as he did during the Korean War.  They were there to honor those who served and didn't return.

As a boy, I was fascinated by that war.  I'd watch the old television shows, the movies.  My dad had a book Collier's Photographic History of WWII (1945) on the bookshelf.  I spent hours upon hours as a kid flipping through the pages of that book.  At that time, the war was only a few short decades ago.  The black and white images pushed the war into ancient of days.  Fathers didn't talk about it much so their children could be spared the pain of their sacrifice.  Their gift to their children was peace.

I continued my fascination as I grew up - reading many books about that war.  I have never lost my fascination of that time in our nation's history...in our world's history.

There was a moment during my visit to the museum that I thought about my boyhood fascination versus my adulthood fascination.  The museum attempted to offer the visitor a firsthand multimedia experience to simulate a bomb mission.  I felt the blast of cold air hit me from the bomb-bay doors opening from the floor, flack bursts in stereo, back and forth radio chatter. I didn't feel an exhilaration that I would have once felt as a boy.  I sat there trying to hold back tears.

my friend jim

I met Jim when I drove out to look for apartment not too far from Art Institute of Atlanta.  I had talked to him prior on the phone after receiving a list from the school of new students looking for places to live like myself.

Jim Byrant was 19 at the time.  I was about 27 years old.  We met face to face for the first time at a fast food joint.  After a vague and uninformative meeting, we decided to look around together for a place to live.  I didn't quite know how to take the guy.  I'm sure it was just as obvious to him as it was to me that we had little in common and that we came from different worlds.  It wasn't just the age difference.

Jim offered to drive us around because he grew up in Newnan, GA and was acquainted with the streets in Atlanta more than I was. It wasn't long before we found a place to live at Cherry Hill Apartments on Bufford Hwy.  We ended up having another roommate, who was a little younger than I was.  I soon discovered that I was the 'old man' around the Art Institute.  Most of the other students looked like they were just out of high school.

Whenever Jim and our other roommate Jeff went out to party, I'd stay home and study, read a book or watch television.  I've always have been quite the homebody.  Jim started jokingly call me 'dad' when he would leave to do his gallivanting.  I'd follow by telling him to drive safe - keep it in the road.  Even though we started out absolute strangers - we quickly figured we'd get along just fine together.

I think the differences faded as classes got underway and we found ourselves in the same classes, bringing the same assignments back to the apartment.  At first, I didn't know why Jim even got into graphic design.  The thought was rolling in the back of my mind that he was probably going to lose interest any day. I never saw him draw much.  I wasn't really impressed with his sketches.  At the time I thought people had to have a capacity to draw in order to become graphic artists.

I was wrong.

Jim ended up surprising me.  He didn't have to draw.  Jim was phenomenal at layout.  He quickly got the hang of design work.  His projects were always sharp looking pieces.  Working together soon made us buddies.  He was great at design and slick presentation and I was strong on concept and handy when it came to original illustration work.  We became a good team, like peanut butter and jelly.   I've always worked kind of fast and loose and Jim made sure everything was tight and polished.  I loved working with Jim.  This young fellow made me a better artists.

We were a dynamic duo when it came to projects.  Usually when instructors gave us an assignment, he or she would tell us to go and purchase specific materials we HAD to use for each project.  This got expensive fast.  Teachers didn't seem to acknowledge the fact that students had to eat too.  So my diversion from the official rules started early.  I decided that in order to eat, I was going to have to break the rules.  I decided I was going to start saving some big bucks and start being creative with the ever growing art material scraps back at our apartment.

Now Jim wasn't in the same financial bind that I was.  He had resources.  Since we always ended up helping each other with our assignments, he got into the game too. We challenged each other to not use the required medium/materials required and ace the projects in the process.  We made each assignment as a pass or fail endeavor.  If we got caught, we'd fail.  If we didn't, we'd pass.  We never failed. We always seemed to break all the given rules and present our projects to where the instructors couldn't tell we made up our own rules.  I didn't see it as cheating. We were having to work harder, challenge ourselves, be more creative to pull it off.  Our design projects were at the top of the class.  We were never caught and always made A's.

Along the way, Jim befriended another fellow that later became our roommate, Troy Williams.  Troy was an incredible artist and had a great eye for design and business.  Troy soon became my friend too.

Jim Bryant didn't finish his art training in Atlanta.  His dad drove him up to check out Parson's Art School.  Jim moved up to New York to finished his design training.  I only saw him a handful of times since those days.  Troy and I became roommates and Jim was out of the picture.

Jim ended up living in Manhattan, working at a prominent Ad agency with national clients.  He kept moving up, eventually running the entire agency.  Years later Jim moved back down south and worked for another large agency.  He also became a graphic designer for Coca-Cola.  Eventually he ended up away from the design table and in marketing end of the business.  Sharp fellow.
 
We'd keep in touch from time to time down through the years - but not often enough.  Anytime we did talk, it was as if no time had passed at all.  We were still buddies as the decades passed.  He became a very successful designer, a very sharp Ad man.  He knew the business more than I did.  When we talked, his projects seemed so interesting and adventurous.  He had come a long way from that kid I met that first day.

I had not talked to my friend in a very long time.  I Googled  his name online late this afternoon, hoping to find his phone number.  I found his obituary instead.

Mr. James (Jim) Bryant III
 
We were so very different from each other,  and I am thankful that life put us together for that short while.
 
I stayed at the office tonight and searched for family members on-line.  I had to know what had happened to Jim.  I tried to find his dad, or one of Jim's siblings.  After many failed calls to phones that no one answered - I found his brother Don.  Don Bryant remembered me, and was kind enough to take the time to tell me what had happened to his brother - my old friend.

Don said that Jim had an elderly neighbor across the street who looked like he needed help cutting down some branches.  At one point the neighbor went in to cool down and rest a little.  Jim offered to continue with the work.  After a while, Jim's neighbor noticed that the chainsaw had stopped.  Jim's truck was parked at the end of the drive, and that it was running.  Don guessed that maybe Jim got in the truck to run the A/C a little in order to cool off.  Jim's  young son came across the street to find his dad unconscious.  The neighbor got someone to get Jim's son away from the truck and back home.  Jim neighbor tried to resuscitate him.  It was no use..

Jim was rushed to the hospital, but there was nothing anyone could do.  Jim had suffered a massive heart attack.  My heart goes out to the Bryant family.  I am sorry for their loss.  I feel the loss too.