Start Somewhere

A Few Book Reviews

2010-07-13T09:11:00.003-05:00

What have I been doing? Reading, playing the keyboard, itching to take on a new house project, and preparing to become a FATHER! Yep, the Beam's are expecting a baby in November. Those are just a few things on the horizon, but I do have some catching up to do. Only two more Fanny Friday hymns remain in the Celebration Hymnal, and I don't plan to leave you hanging! They're coming, I promise.

Back to book reviews: First, Wicked, The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, by Gregory Maguire. This is a great read. It is a parallel novel to The Wizard of Oz, and I love that you go into it with so much of the work already done. Everybody already knows Dorothy's story, but here you get another side that is so real, so immediately engaging, that I was totally enthralled all the way through. As you might expect, it is a bit dark, but you end up seeing exactly how all the witches of Oz came to be who we know from the other, more famous story. It is tantalizing.

I began reading Brother West, about Cornell West, but found his endless, braggadocious banter about his superior education and womanizing so exhausting that I could not finish it.

Then I read The Widow of the South by Robert Hicks. Again, here is a story that continues on something we all know at least a little about, The Civil War. I enjoyed this book. It chronicles the life of Carrie McGavock and her time at the Carnton Plantation in Franklin, Tennessee, a true place that Amanda and I have visited. This is part romance, part blood and guts battle, part history, and all together fascinating.

Dog On It is a mystery/thriller by Spencer Quinn, written from the perspective of a dog named Chet. Chet's commentary is so true to dog behavior that it alone, without the story, could have kept me entertained throughout the whole book. His owner, Bernie, is a private detective, and together they search for a missing girl. It's not going to be on anyone's recommended reading list for college lit, but for a super quick summer read, it is perfect.

The Millionaire Next Door, by Thomas J. Stanley is a book that has been on my shelf for years. Dave Ramsey, the famous financial advisor recommends it for anyone who wants to know how to have more money. The book is full of case studies that disprove many commonly held beliefs about your average millionaire. Most commonly, you learn how thoughtful they are about the money they make, not necessarily the massive amounts of money that they bring in. In getting ready to possibly spend a good amount of money on a house, this was great to help me think about ways to keep from spending too much, and to make the absolute most of the money I do earn.

That's it! You made it through my reviews! I hope you stayed awake, and maybe found something you either wanted to read or to avoid like the oily shores of Panama City Beach.

(Just kidding PC Beach, you know I love your pink high rises, super sized surf shops, and drunken, sunburned, puking teen spring break parties.)

He Hideth My Soul

2010-04-16T12:38:00.002-05:00

Happy Fanny Friday! It is a fine one.

Watch me play He Hideth My Soul here.

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
A wonderful Savior to me;
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
Where rivers of pleasure I see.
- Refrain:
  He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
  That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
  He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
  And covers me there with His hand,
  And covers me there with His hand.
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
He taketh my burden away,
He holdeth me up and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day.
With numberless blessings each moment He crowns,
And filled with His fullness divine,
I sing in my rapture, oh, glory to God!
For such a Redeemer as mine.
When clothed with His brightness transported I rise
To meet Him in clouds of the sky,
His perfect salvation, His wonderful love,
I’ll shout with the millions on high.

I love the imagery in this song. It is so comforting to me. Definitely one of my favorite Fannys.

Living With Crazy People

2010-04-14T09:26:00.006-05:00

How is it that I was dropped into the middle of a situation full of people who won't do what I want them to do, think the way I want them to think? they go right when I was certain they would go left, up when they clearly should have gone down? What's up with that!?

Then, some smart Alec in the Bible has the nerve to tell me that I'm supposed to love my neighbor as myself? Well if said neighbor was the enlightened individual that he or she should be, then that would be a cinch. But things being as they are, this has proven to be an impossible task for me.

But it's all still there! Honor your Father and Mother, they will know we are Christians by our love, turn the other cheek... What!? This all sounds well and good when I'm in my Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes, I've just heard a great choir special, my hair's slicked back, got on my shiney shoes and my heart is right... But what about when reality slaps the livin' Sunday suit outta me!?

Say it's like... Thursday afternoon, the Sunday has all worn off by now and somebody does something that really pisses me off? Now I've read the whole Bible including the footnotes and have yet to find any exceptions to these commandments.

Even if you can find ten people to say that you are right and they are wrong. Even if you can find fifty! No loopholes.

So, that is where we live. In the real world. We are given an impossible task, and eternal damnation awaits us unless we can find a solution. GREAT.

Finally, here's the good news. Jesus. He already knows that we can't do it, so He did it for us. He bore our sin, took on our weakness, and made a way. What we have to do is admit that we can't save ourselves. Sound's easy, but that is the hardest part. We are SO smart, and we think around every corner we will find a new idea. Surely we can be perfectly independent? We sent people to the moon for goodness sakes! And all we really have to do is love our neighbor as our self? Surely we don't need help for that? Right?

Wrong.

Close to Thee

2010-04-09T08:53:00.002-05:00

Here is Fanny Crosby's Close to Thee.  Watch me play and sing it here, watch a far more entertaining version here.



1. Thou my everlasting portion,
 more than friend or life to me,
 all along my pilgrim journey,
 Savior, let me walk with thee.
Refrain:
 Close to thee, close to thee,
 close to thee, close to thee,
 all along my pilgrim journey,
 Savior, let me walk with thee.

2. Not for ease or worldly pleasure,
 nor for fame my prayer shall be;
 gladly will I toil and suffer,
 only let me walk with thee.
 (Refrain)

3. Lead me through the vale of shadows,
 bear me o'er life's fitful sea;
 then the gate of life eternal
 may I enter, Lord, with thee.
 (Refrain)

Blessed Assurance

2010-03-25T10:00:00.007-05:00

Here's Blessed Assurance. It is, maybe, my favorite hymn of all time. Definitely my favorite Fanny Crosby hymn. You will be happy to hear that I finally got my piano tuned! It had gotten to the point where everything was beginning to sound like honky-tonk pi-aner instead of piano. I mean, I love ragtime, dixie-land, 1920's whorehouse music just as much as the next guy, but when you're trying to play an altar call song in that style, it just doesn't jive! You know?

Watch it here.

There was a bird poop on the window so I covered it up with the cool Harry Connick Jr. poster we got a few weeks ago at his amazing concert at the Ryman.

Not Fanny Friday

2010-03-19T20:12:00.001-05:00

Fanny Friday will be back next week. Here's Dramatic Chipmunk.

Take the World but Give Me Jesus

2010-03-12T15:10:00.003-06:00

This is the first Fanny Crosby hymn I have come to in the Celebration Hymnal that I was not familiar with. I like it! How bout that?

Watch it here.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
All its joys are but a name;
But His love abideth ever,
Through eternal years the same.
- Refrain:
  Oh, the height and depth of mercy!
  Oh, the length and breadth of love!
  Oh, the fullness of redemption,
  Pledge of endless life above!
Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Sweetest comfort of my soul;
With my Savior watching o’er me,
I can sing though billows roll.
Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Let me view His constant smile;
Then throughout my pilgrim journey
Light will cheer me all the while.
Take the world, but give me Jesus;
In His cross my trust shall be,
Till, with clearer, brighter vision,
Face to face my Lord I see.

Texas, Travel, and the Truth

2010-03-10T10:51:00.004-06:00

I love to travel! We have been in Texas for the past few days, first for a horse show in San Antonio, then visiting family in Austin.

The Gray Moss Inn in San Antonio was superb. The fresh mushroom appetizer was amazing, then Wahoo (fish) flown in from Hawaii... oh my. Maybe the most perfect piece of fish ever, with grilled asparagus. We we're in the company of our dear friend, Mark Farrar. I feel so lucky to get to work with people I love.

We also got to spend time with our good buddy, Casey McBride, photographer. This guy travels across the country shooting beautiful photos of horses with his wife, daughter and black lab for a living. I am always inspired by people who have found a way to live their lives in an unconventional way.

To say that I've been staying with folks who are living outside of the box seems inadequate when it comes to Holly and Jeremy Shore, Amanda's cousins. These people make the unattainable look easy. When the layers come back, and you see the foundations of basic Christian principles behind the lives of this photo perfect, yet very real family, it makes me feel so encouraged. The super hip city of Austin doesn't hurt either.

Here's my point. If you want to live outside of the box, get out of your house. Get a little uncomfortable. Open your home to others. Share what you know, and learn from people who know more than you!

I read in the Bible just now about a woman named Lydia who listened to Paul's teaching and opened her home to him. It only said a few things about her, but all of them made me like her. She sold expensive purple cloth, she believed the good news, and she kept on urging Paul and Silas to stay at her house until they did. She wore them down with her kindness, and showed them hospitality in her beautiful home. I think it is safe to say that someone who sold pretty cloth would at least have some nice drapes.

I want to be like that. She shared her home with some strangers; and see what it got her? Her name is remembered for all time in the holiest book of all.

She was not afraid to associate with people who were a little outside of the box. These guys were going around teaching something that was stirring everything up. They were put in jail for it! But Lydia heard the truth, and apparently didn't care what anybody thought. She believed! And I do too.

That's the yellow rose of Texas in the photo.

I Am Thine Oh Lord

2010-03-04T08:01:00.005-06:00

Fanny Friday is here! This really is one of my all time favorite hymns.
I hope you'll be singing this one all week. Watch me play and sing it here.

I am thine, O Lord, I have heard thy voice,
and it told thy love to me;
but I long to rise in the arms of faith
and be closer drawn to thee.
Refrain:
Draw me nearer, nearer, blessed Lord,
to the cross where thou hast died.
Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer, blessed Lord,
to thy precious, bleeding side.

Consecrate me now to thy service, Lord,
by the power of grace divine;
let my soul look up with a steadfast hope,
and my will be lost in thine.

O the pure delight of a single hour
that before thy throne I spend,
when I kneel in prayer, and with thee, my God,
I commune as friend with friend!

There are depths of love that I cannot know
till I cross the narrow sea;
there are heights of joy that I may not reach
till I rest in peace with thee.

Change is a-Coming

2010-03-01T10:52:00.006-06:00

In the next few weeks, in an effort to streamline my blog with my home website, this blog will get a new address: stacybeam.com. From there you can listen to my music, see photos, videos, and continue to read all about what is going on with us. You will also get to download free music, and buy cool stuff from the store!

Just a heads up to all of you who read my blog, because if you are like me, sometimes things get lost in the busy-ness of life!

If you are interested, there are some new posts there that you might want to check out.

I always appreciate your feedback, and I hope you will continue to share my journey.

Pass Me Not

2010-02-26T09:29:00.002-06:00

It's time for Fanny Friday again! Watch Pass Me Not here. Hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
- Refrain:
  Savior, Savior,
  Hear my humble cry,
  While on others Thou are calling,
  Do not pass me by.
Let me at thy throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief;
Kneeling there in deep contrition,
Help my unbelief.
Trusting only in Thy merit,
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.
Thou the spring of all my comfort,
More than life to me,
Whom have I on earth beside Thee,
Whom in Heav’n but Thee.

How Did You Get Where You Are?

2010-02-23T08:35:00.006-06:00

What about the people on the side of the road wearing the big Gorilla, Statue of Liberty or Uncle Sam outfits? There is one guy who has been standing on the same corner wearing a huge "Cash for Gold" sign around his neck near my house for so long that we just nod every time we drive by like old friends. He's there in sunshine, rain, sleet or snow. How in the world do you get to that place in life?

How did I get to this place in life? It is all relative in a way. The cash for gold guy has a stable job in advertising where he gets to work outdoors and meet lots of people. By the same token, I work in the music industry. Granted, I often play to people who wouldn't know if I were playing Yankee Doodle or Bob Dylan; and I almost always can smell horse poo from where I play!

One way or another, we choose paths for ourselves whether we acknowledge it consciously or not. I got to this place as a result of many small and seemingly insignificant decisions. Here is a loose time line of a few of those decisions:

1. 1979: I'm sitting in my Mammaw Beam's den while my aunts, uncles, Dad, Mom, brother, and cousins play and sing "Just a Little Talk With Jesus," "Foggy Mountain Breakdown," and "Salty Dog." In that electric atmosphere of laughter, singing, and joyful rhythm, something so deep resonates in my soul that I think; I will do that or die trying. So, I decide to start learning the instrument that was in our house that made the most sense to me, the piano. (The guitar hurt my fingers too much, and I couldn't make out why the pitches weren't in order.)

2. 1989: I decide that I love horses so much that I choose to go to a horse show to show my horse instead of going to the big Mid-South Marching Band Competition with my High School Band. Band was a BIG deal where I came from, and I wrestled with that decision. For better or worse, it was an indicator of things to come for me. Music and horses... How can I make this work together? Hmmm.

3. 1999: After having moved to New York City (my apartment just happened to be around the corner from the only stable in Manhattan, where the handsome cab carriage horses stayed) and having marginal success playing music in piano bars, cabaret rooms, hotel lobbies, and church, I decided I needed a life at least a little bit more familiar to what I had known growing up. So I decide to move, not all the way home to Alabama, but quite a bit closer; I split the difference and moved to Nashville, TN and started taking gigs at tiny horse shows to pay my bills.

4. 2009: New Year's Day, I have found my place, I have a new wife, home, career, I'm playing all over the U.S. at very prestigious horse shows, making a respectable living, but I still feel the need to grow, change, get better, so I start writing my blog: "Start Somewhere" and here we are. I have a place, a purpose, goals, and I am a part of something way bigger than myself through sharing the light that Jesus Christ shines through my life, music, art, and hopefully what I write here.

Back to cash for gold guy. I mean no disrespect toward him. I simply want to pose the question: how did he get there?

I am going to make a few assumptions.

1: Too few smart, encouraging people noticed him, so he settled for what attention he could get: whoever happened to be passing by.

2: He had to figure out a way to provide for himself, which he did, but the best he could find still left him standing on the street corner trying to get attention.

3: He comes to believe that he is worth no more than a pole for a road sign.

4: He tries to make the best of the busy street corner where he finds himself.

I am wondering what the main differences between his story and mine were, and it comes down to people who cared enough about me to expect me to do great things and repeatedly tell me so. A few people in my life imposed big dreams on me, and I lived up to them. My parents gave me no other choice but to be a person of strong character, from as early as I can remember. I was given room to make choices for myself, and had sound advice from people who loved me everywhere I turned. Where did I meet these people? Family, church, school, horse shows. In that order.

I have written many times about the importance of mentors, and I am not finished. I owe so much to people who have believed in me, and I want to remember to believe in the kids around me, and always encourage them beyond their own circumstances.

The handsome little guy I'm sitting beside in the photo is one of the coolest kids I know. And I can guarantee you that he will not be wearing any Uncle Sam outfit in front of the payday loan store. Why? Because we are paid for what we know, and that little man already knows a lot more than me!

If you are wondering who you could mentor, look about waist high just about anywhere you go. They're everywhere! And they might be your boss one day, or driving you to the doctor, or wiping your... eyeglasses for you.

Jesus is Tenderly Calling

2010-02-19T09:00:00.000-06:00

Watch me play Jesus is Tenderly Calling here.

Jesus is tenderly calling you home
Calling today, calling today
Why from the sunshine of love will you roam
Farther and farther away?

Calling today, calling today
Jesus is calling, is tenderly calling today

Jesus is calling the weary to rest
Calling today, calling today
Bring Him your burden and you shall be blest
He will not turn you away

Jesus is waiting, O come to Him now
Waiting today, waiting today
Come with your sins, at His feet lowly bow
Come, and no longer delay

Jesus is pleading, O list to His voice
Hear Him today, hear Him today
They who believe on His Name shall rejoice
Quickly arise and away

I was looking for an image to add to this blog and came across Sister Marla Jennings. Check her website here for a good laugh.

Rescue the Perishing

2010-02-11T10:39:00.005-06:00

Happy Fanny Friday everybody! Watch me play and sing Rescue the Perishing on my funky old Hammond Aurora organ here.

Rescue the perishing, care for the dying,
Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;
Weep o’er the erring one, lift up the fallen,
Tell them of Jesus, the mighty to save.
- Refrain:
  Rescue the perishing, care for the dying,
  Jesus is merciful, Jesus will save.
Though they are slighting Him, still He is waiting,
Waiting the penitent child to receive;
Plead with them earnestly, plead with them gently;
He will forgive if they only believe.
Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter,
Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;
Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness,
Chords that were broken will vibrate once more.
Rescue the perishing, duty demands it;
Strength for thy labor the Lord will provide;
Back to the narrow way patiently win them;
Tell the poor wand’rer a Savior has died.

Crossfit Total Day

2010-02-09T10:17:00.005-06:00

I don't know about you, but I was ready for spring about a month ago. That means, about right now.. just don't talk to me about it. I'm doing what I can to accentuate the positive and all that, but dang! Cold, wet, dark, nasty brown snow piled up on the side of the road, dry itchy skin, high gas bills, dead grass, BLAAAAAH!!!

The top pic is me getting in a little handstand practice on a summer trip to Gulf Shores. Thank me later, ladies.

So when something positive happens like what happened today at Crossfit, I am ready to seize the opportunity to celebrate. In Crossfit, we have a periodic "check-up" kind of day when we test our strength in three fundamental exercises. It is called "Crossfit Totals." Today I busted my previous total by seventy pounds.

If you can't tell, I'm the second guy in this photo. These came from Crossfit Murfreesboro's website. It is an awesome community of elite athletes and I am so glad to be a part of it.

Even though it will not mean anything to most of you, I will give the numbers: My strict press was 115, squat was 280, and dead lift was 340. We total those numbers together to calculate our score. My goal was 700, and today I totaled 735! Yeah. Beamer's on FI-YAH!!!

Redeemed

2010-02-05T22:00:00.002-06:00

Happy Fanny Friday! Here I am playing Redeemed on my Hammond Aurora organ. Watch by clicking here.

Redeemed--how I love to proclaim it!
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb;
Redeemed through His infinite mercy,
His child, and forever, I am.

Redeemed, redeemed,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb;
Redeemed, redeemed,
His child, and forever, I am.

Redeemed and so happy in Jesus,
No language my rapture can tell;
I know that the light of His presence
With me doth continually dwell.

I think of my blessed Redeemer,
I think of Him all the day long;
I sing, for I cannot be silent;
His love is the theme of my song.

I know I shall see in His beauty
The King in whose law I delight;
Who lovingly guardeth my footsteps,
And giveth me songs in the night.

I have a friend who used to call these old 6/8 hymns "skating rink songs." However you feel about it, I challenge anyone to listen to this song and not have it come back several times to remind you of its fantastic message and insanely catchy melody and rhythm. Yea, the version might be slightly influenced by my background as a horse show man, but what's better than a good old Fanny Crosby hymn done "horse show" style? (No answers please)

You're a What? From Where?

2010-02-02T09:53:00.007-06:00

My name is Stacy Beam, like the whiskey, NOT the pinto. People often mistake me for a female, (that's why I grew a beard,) or just assume I must be gay, which is fine as long as they don't automatically start asking me for color consultations or the best place for a good back wax. I am a Horse Show Organist, and I'm from Arab, Alabama.

So when I meet people, or go to a party, I gotta whole lotta' splainin' to do.

Looks like with all that going on, at least one of those things could be just a little bit more normal. Right?

Like maybe I could be named Bob, or Roy, or Jason! Or have been unusually gifted at football... or finance... or even taxidermy! At least people know what you're talking about when you say "I do taxidermy!"

I think I'm just going to start breaking it down for people before I get all the usual questions like:

You mean like at Rodeos?
NO, it's not a rodeo!
NO, I wouldn't rather play at baseball games!
NO, I didn't mean to say "a"-rub, that's in another country!
YES, you can make a living at that!
and YES, in 1974, Stacy, apparently WAS an extremely popular name for little boys in Arab, Alabama!

And yes, there is medicine for it. And... believe it or not, I'm beginning to be somewhat OK with all of that.

You wonder why I write a blog? I'm DESPERATELY seeking others somewhat like myself!

Whatever. I'm unique. Get used to it.. I've been trying to for my whole, entire life.

Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross

2010-01-29T16:44:00.004-06:00

Watch me play and sing Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross here.

Jesus, keep me near the cross,
There a precious fountain
Free to all, a healing stream
Flows from Calvary's mountain.

Refrain:

In the cross, in the cross,
Be my glory ever;
Till my raptured soul shall find
Rest beyond the river.

Near the cross, a trembling soul,
Love and mercy found me;
There the bright and morning star
Sheds its beams around me.

Near the cross! O Lamb of God,
Bring its scenes before me;
Help me walk from day to day,
With its shadows o'er me.

Near the cross I'll watch and wait
Hoping, trusting ever,
Till I reach the golden strand,
Just beyond the river.

Pride and Prejudice Review

2010-01-27T18:32:00.010-06:00

It took me a long time to get into this book. I found it hard to follow. Having said that, I am thoroughly happy to have read it and would recommend it to anyone interested in 19th century English aristocracy, complicated family relationships, an entirely new method of speaking English, and romance.

However, if you are at all eager to get to the romance, you will be disappointed, or at least your patience will be tried. I just thought of a more appropriate title for it! "Patience and Perseverance." It takes the whole book for these people to finally get together. But, by the end you really do want them to get together.

They were all extremely concerned with social status, who would marry whom, and never tired of talking and writing long letters to each other on these topics.

I say a new method of speaking English and I guess that would technically be "old." I just wasn't prepared for how different it was. Spelling was often different, as were punctuation and capitalization. For instance, rather than using "ed" to indicate past tense, "t" was substituted only in certain instances like "learnt." Not to mention the extremely stilted tone to everything. I'm sure our informal language would sound like pure trash to them; it sounds like trash to me a lot of the time. I do think we have come a long way in the field of getting to the point over the past two hundred or so years.

There are some timeless themes: love of family, tragic misunderstandings, and, of course, lots of pride and prejudice. There are also some stereotypes that would never fly today; those are always entertaining to me. Namely the nervous, flighty, mentally fragile Mrs. Bennett, mother of Jane, Elizabeth and their sisters.

The photos are from some of the first illustrated versions of the book.

So, in conclusion, I became completely enthralled in the story but it took me three fourths of the way through to get there. More than anything, I appreciated the artful way Austen articulated her ideas.

I am also reading the One Year Bible on the seven year plan. I just got to the gospels and I love it!

The next non-Bible book I'm reading is "Inside of a Dog" about how dogs think by Alexandra Horowitz. That should be a perfect follow up to "great literature" right?

A Little Marital Advice

2010-01-27T09:22:00.006-06:00

If you are married and have never experienced having a violent stomach virus at the same time as your mate, you don't really deserve to fully claim your marriage certificate. It is the "Baptism of the Holy Spirit" for your marriage. For if one can remain in love after such travesties of the body which occur during these times, then you have truly experienced the refiner's fire.

This was actually the second time this has occurred for us, so I feel I have acquired some expertise in the field. In the light of these facts, I have compiled a list of suggestions for those of you who haven't been there yet.

1. Do not try to eat or drink anything until you are certain it is safe to do so. For whatever temporary pleasure may be gained in the moment from the crackers and Ginger Ale is sure to be canceled out by their dramatic return.

2. When your beloved is "in the act" you may try consolation, but nothing is to be gained from this. Just let them work it out on their own, for there are only so many toilets/trashcans in one bathroom.

3. If you should find pants, sheets, or any suspicious blankets, or clothing of any kind in a corner, do not let your curiosity tempt you. Just gingerly take them to the laundry room and set the dial to super heavy, triple soap, nuclear disaster if your machine has that setting.

4. Find the best photo of your wife/husband that you can and put it up in the bathroom so that you may remember that he/she is not the hurling, foul, Sasquatch that you actually see before your eyes.

5. You may try lighting candles, opening a window, spritzing your best pomegranate basil room spray, or placing scented "plug in's" in every outlet in the house... None of this is strong enough to come near alleviating the problem. Just get used to it. It might go away in the spring.

6. If you make it through all of this, and no one has issued a restraining order, there have been no serious mental breakdowns resulting in institutionalization, you still have a house, clothes, and each other, rejoice! For:

7. "We rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. Romans 5:3,4.

Tell Me the Story of Jesus

2010-01-22T09:23:00.004-06:00

It's Fanny Friday people. There she is in the photo. I totally forgot she was blind! What a gal.

To watch me play and sing "Tell Me the Story of Jesus" click here.

Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word;
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.
Tell how the angels in chorus,
Sang as they welcomed His birth,
“Glory to God in the highest!
Peace and good tidings to earth.”
- Refrain:
  Tell me the story of Jesus,
  Write on my heart every word;
  Tell me the story most precious,
  Sweetest that ever was heard.
Fasting alone in the desert,
Tell of the days that are past,
How for our sins He was tempted,
Yet was triumphant at last.
Tell of the years of His labor,
Tell of the sorrow He bore;
He was despised and afflicted,
Homeless, rejected and poor.
Tell of the cross where they nailed Him,
Writhing in anguish and pain;
Tell of the grave where they laid Him,
Tell how He liveth again.
Love in that story so tender,
Clearer than ever I see;
Stay, let me weep while you whisper,
“Love paid the ransom for me.”

Watch "Pants on the Ground" here.

The Dream

2010-01-18T12:06:00.002-06:00

Watch Dr. Martin Luther King's speech that changed history. Click here.

Share this with our children. We must never forget this great American who affected us all in such a deep and profound way. To say that this is an important speech is completely insufficient. To tell you that this is moving is like calling the Grand Canyon a ditch. This is the kind of eloquent truth that changes people from the inside out.

Dr. Martin Luther King Junior on August 28th, 1963:

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check. A check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our Nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment, this sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, and have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For whites only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friend, and so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will they be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snow capped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

To God Be the Glory

2010-01-15T11:13:00.002-06:00

Watch me play To God Be the Glory here.

I'm playing my 1979 Hammond Aurora organ.

To God be the glory, great things He has done;
So loved He the world that He gave us His Son,
Who yielded His life an atonement for sin,
And opened the life gate that all may go in.

Refrain

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the earth hear His voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father, through Jesus the Son,
And give Him the glory, great things He has done.

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood,
To every believer the promise of God;
The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment from Jesus a pardon receives.

Great things He has taught us, great things He has done,
And great our rejoicing through Jesus the Son;
But purer, and higher, and greater will be
Our wonder, our transport, when Jesus we see.

Another classic Fanny Crosby hymn. Maybe the perfect hymn of praise. It informs our brains while lifting our souls. That is how it is supposed to be.

It's Not You, It's Me

2010-01-10T09:39:00.003-06:00

Lately I have been reading Pride and Prejudice. Honestly, it is kind of a tough read for me so far. I guess I'm trying to fill in the blanks left over from my days as a high school slacker who could barely be motivated to read by a gun pointed at my head.

Jane Austen's language is like this wonderful flourless chocolate cake that Amanda makes. You have to take little bites. The cake will make you go cross-eyed it's so dense, and insanely decadent. I'm working on my pallet to expand my reading taste for great literature.

I'm pretty good at liking the cake, so surely if I keep reading what generations before me have deemed to be great, then I will start to "get it" at some point. That's what I'm telling myself anyway.

Our pastor introduced this concept with us at church regarding reading the Bible. He used the example of the beginning of Mathew's gospel. If a modern editor had spoken with the author of this book, he surely would have told Mathew that starting out with a a tedious account of lineage was hardly the best way to hook readers into what he had to say.

But it's there, and we have to consider that God wanted it there for a reason. We then must ask why. Maybe our taste for lineage needs to be cultivated. That is a clue!

Lord, please help me not to be so selfish as to consider your word boring. In other words, it's not you, it's me.

Praise Him! Praise Him!

2010-01-08T09:00:00.000-06:00

So for the next four months, Fridays on this blog will be "Fanny Friday." I am starting with the first Fanny Crosby hymn in The Celebration Hymnal, my favorite hymnal, and I'll posting a video of myself singing and playing every one of her hymns in the order they appear there.

1. Praise Him! Praise Him! Jesus, our blessed Redeemer!
Sing, O Earth, His wonderful love proclaim!
Hail Him! Hail Him! Highest archangels in glory;
Strength and honor give to His holy Name!
Like a shepherd, Jesus will guard His children,
In His arms He carries them all day long.
* Refrain:
Praise Him! Praise Him! Tell of His excellent greatness;
Praise Him! Praise Him! Ever in joyful song!
2. Praise Him! Praise Him! Jesus, our blessed Redeemer!
For our sins He suffered, and bled, and died.
He our Rock, our hope of eternal salvation,
Hail Him! Hail Him! Jesus the Crucified.
Sound His praises! Jesus who bore our sorrows,
Love unbounded, wonderful, deep and strong.
3. Praise Him! Praise Him! Jesus, our blessed Redeemer!
Heav’nly portals loud with hosannas ring!
Jesus, Savior, reigneth forever and ever;
Crown Him! Crown Him! Prophet, and Priest, and King!
Christ is coming! over the world victorious,
Pow’r and glory unto the Lord belong.

I have so many memories of singing this song at Gilliam Springs Baptist Church in Arab, Alabama where I grew up. Not to mention leading it at other churches where I have worked, visited, and worshiped. It is one of those songs that I would still be singing in my head long after the sermon was over, every head bowed, every eye closed, except mine, the car ride home, the roast with mashed potatoes, carrots and onions, fried okra, cornbread, tea, and coconut pie, all the way into school the next week.

Her songs are not only lyrically beautiful, uplifting, and just amazing, they have that staying power. So memorable, so singable, just pure Fanny, pure praise, pure joy. That is what this song is to me. No, it may not be the way we talk today, but maybe that is our problem, not Fanny's.

Really, Really Cold

2010-01-02T11:31:00.005-06:00

The tree is sitting in a big pile by the sidewalk with all of the dead greenery that had been hanging over our fireplace. The lights are all packed up, and the work is done. The house is a little darker, quite a bit less colorful, and outside it is really, really cold. Now we hunker down and begin the wait for warmer weather.

Here is a list of the things we CAN do now:
Have friends over, laugh
Nap
Eat stews, soups, root vegetables and winter greens, and the grass fed, organic beef in our freezer
Have some tasty beverages
Play lots of card games, tournaments even!
Work out at the gym
Do a puzzle
Paint, draw, write
Make funny YouTubes, watch funny YouTubes
Go to the movies
Watch movies in bed
Send cards/letters to friends
Play with Ginny and her friend, Lucy
Read, pray, sing, play the piano/organ
Blog
Ski (if we can come up with the money)

How do you deal with the winter "what do we do nows?" What are your ideas?

Give Yourself Away

2009-12-31T11:03:00.002-06:00

Watch Papaw's New Year's Resolutions.

"A new year's resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other." -Some wise cracker.

I don't really believe that, but there is some truth to it. But, if I did not think that change was possible, improvement was attainable, goals achievable, the New Year would not be worth celebrating.

I love new starts. I love the idea that one can dream, and then do the work it takes to attain that dream or goal. So what is this year's dream for me? What will 2010 bring?

I have to throw in the obligatory "lose ten pounds." That's just my tradition. Of course if I didn't gain it all back then I could never do that goal again. That would be kind of sad right?

There's usually some kind of "make more money" type goal, some lofty spiritual quest, and a highly challenging goal to create a certain number of paintings, songs, journal entries, etc.

What will make this year different? What will set this year apart as the one when I have the discipline to do the work, hang in there through the hard times, get going when the going gets tough?

Well, to start with, I'm writing it all down right here so that all ten or so of you reading this will know. So when you see me, please ask me how it's going. And I'm talking about in June or so. No, better make it around March. That's usually about the time my memory starts wearing thin.

Also, my whole church is in on it too. We've been challenged to declare a Mitzvot for ourselves this year. My interpretation if it is a worthy goal. Here is Pastor Dan's explanation of it.

My Goals for 2010 are:

Create a show that changes people's lives.

Integrate sharing Holt International's message that every child deserves a loving home at my performances.

Finish reading the Chronological Bible that I have already begun reading.

Lose ten pounds and keep it off by integrating better habits into my diet and workout regiment. Have been between 155 and 165 for most of the year on December 31st, 2010.

Give myself away by accurately recording what I experience, and by God's grace, create something uniquely beautiful, from it.

The most rewarding activity one can undertake in this life is to freely give of one's self. This is a wellspring of fresh inspiration, a renewal, a profound pick me up. When we follow Christ's example of generosity of self, we are rewarded exponentially.

What's Next?

2009-12-28T09:00:00.000-06:00

So it has almost been a year since I began writing Start Somewhere. That has me thinking, what's next? Video blogs? Music Monday? Mammaw Monday? Tasty Tuesday? Where are we now Wednesday? Therapy Thursday? Funny Friday? Fitness Friday? Follow me Friday? Fix up your old furniture Friday? It's time to take it to the next level, and I want your input.

It all started with this gut feeling that I should write. Sometimes I would think I wanted to write a book. Other times I thought I should write songs. I've even considered that one day I might be one of those lucky people who go to exotic islands and get paid to write about their experience. But mostly I just knew that I wanted to improve as a writer; and to do that, I simply needed to write more.

My wife, Amanda, and our pastor, Dan Scott, had both encouraged me to write, and I was also inspired by my dear friend, Stephanie Kling.

So then Amanda's cousin, Jeremy Shore, (also a blogger) sat down with me and helped me set up my blogger account (which is free and easy) and off I went.

What have I learned? That writing regularly takes thought, discipline, and time. And that you might end up having to write whether you feel inspired or not. In other words, that inspiration often comes after effort. I've also learned how to post pictures, add links, that without spell check I can't spell exercise, and that I can proofread something ten times and on the eleventh time I will find a glaring error. Oh, and that I really do love the written word, even if it is my own rambling.

At first I said I wanted to write three times a week; that didn't last very long. But I am glad to have written as much as I have, and I generally consider the first year of Start Somewhere to be a success. Some months I have been more prolific than others. Some of you have commented, thanks. Some have become followers, thanks. Some of you have told me in person that you laughed at something you read or found something inspirational. And I thank you too.

If you have a reason that you like my blog, what is it? If there are some things you wish I would shut up about what are they? What could I do better? I'm not promising I'll listen, maybe I'm just curious. Nothing is off limits. Except nudity. You must be fully clothed while posting your comments.

If you have left comments about my blog on my Facebook status or in the notes section of my Facebook page, would you consider clicking here to go directly to my blog and leave your comments there? You can also get there by going to the news section at stacybeam.com. It just keeps everything in one place and generally creates a more interesting blog.

If you have tried to post comments to Start Somewhere and you have had problems, what are they? You may just need to get a gmail account, which is free and very easy. Just click this link and follow the directions.

Finally, I would also like to ask you to officially follow Start Somewhere by clicking follow to the right of my page. Then, share my blog with your friends if you haven't already. Got all that? If you don't do it I'm gonna send one of my Start Somewhere staff thugs to your house in the middle of the night.

I'm telling you, she'll do it.

I Believe

2009-12-17T09:01:00.009-06:00

I believe:

That no paycheck is big enough to make me live a life that is untrue.

It's not just OK to be different, it's more fun most of the time.

Getting to do your dream is worth a lot of sweat.

That I am an artist.

January 29th, 2004 was the luckiest day of my life; because I married my dear Amanda on that day.

That dogs are a gift sent from God to teach us some of life's most important lessons.

There are a whole lot of things we could all just lighten up about.

There are a few things that must never be compromised.

That we live in the greatest nation in history.

Whining is a sin, and I'm guilty.

That relationships are the most important thing in life.

That I am worthy of my goals because God made me that way.

In God the Father Almighty,

Creator of heaven and earth;

And in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord;

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, dead, and buried;

He descended into hell;

the third day He rose again from the dead;

He ascended into heaven,

and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty;

from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

What do you believe?

Mammaw and Her Football

2009-12-14T10:50:00.004-06:00

My Mammaw Nita Ann is a character among characters. When I describe her to my friends, they are often stunned in disbelief at some of the tales that have become commonplace in my family's lore. Among those suitable for public viewing are: the time she sent me an enormous window unit air conditioner via US Mail to New York City from Arab, Alabama. Or the time she led her girlfriends on an expedition away from school for the day. When the principal found them and drove them all back to school, he marched them into his office. But before he could get in behind them, she locked the office door! Then, they all took off again out his window! Or the fact that she can recite our ancestors by name, not only back to Arab's founder, Stephen Tuttle Thompson, but all the way back to President John Adam's favorite signer of the Declaration of Independence, Stephen Hopkins.

She has found her life's purpose in pouring herself into family relationships. The ways she has loved me and supported my career as an artist and musician are far too many to name, but you can suffice it to say, she started early and has never stopped. More recently her devotion has been shared with my nephews, Bo and Blake and niece, Shelby.

Just for the sake of this story, I'll use Blake as an example. Between her visits to Lake View Dialysis for treatments, she has found time to go to every one of his football functions, games, and practices. Literally, poor Blake can't sneeze without her there to wipe his nose and then brag to her friends at the Beauty Shop about how bravely he went about the whole thing.

So, a few months ago, Blake and his teammates decided to take a game ball, all sign it, and give it to Mammaw. Well, she could not have been happier if the Queen of England herself had crossed the great pond with her Royal Entourage to Arab and declared her Lady Nita Ann Bentley.

It is a very special thing to be loved that way. I know. I've joked that she loves me so much that if I committed murder she would not only figure out why they had it coming, she might help me hide the body.

The point of this is to say that unconditional love is an extremely powerful thing. If you were not lucky enough to have a "Mammaw" like mine, just learn from her example and find a kid, believe in him or her beyond anything they could imagine, and watch what happens.

On Working Out and Pigging Out

2009-12-03T12:44:00.005-06:00

Somehow I seem to be able to be simultaneously into working out and pigging out. It is the lover extremes in me that is not satisfied until I've either worked so hard that I can barely move or eaten so much that, well, I can barely move. What's up with that?

Last night Amanda made this amazing Indian dish called Chicken Saag-wala. Click on it if you want the recipe, she said to tell you that she halved the cream and added a can of diced tomatoes. I ate all of my portion and then some, then I ate way too many chocolate covered almonds for dessert. I asked Amanda to hide those things from me when she bought them.. seriously! and that worked until the other day when I was looking for something else and stumbled onto them. Once it is in my house I have trouble leaving it alone.

Monday's workout was a Crossfit standard called Filthy Fifty. Basically, you do fifty repetitions of ten different ridiculously hard exercises. You can click here to read more about the crossfit gym in Murfreesboro where I work out. I was still way sore from filthy fifty when I went in yesterday and did yet another tough one, -and now I can't wait to get back in there again tomorrow morning! Evan Satterfield and David Branch do an incredible job there. They really are "forging elite fitness" as their motto states.

Just because I like to go to the gym and work out pretty faithfully, does not mean I that don't have my struggles. I have put on and dropped the same ten pounds three or four times in the past five years. I make deals with myself, I'll be very strict until a certain deadline and then make up for lost time. I've even known a cheat meal to mysteriously turn into a cheat month if you know what I mean.

The only conclusion that I can draw from this is that there are certain habitual struggles that we may be saddled with for a lifetime. There will be ebbs and flows, but all I can do is hang in there and encourage you to do the same. If you get too down over a slip, you might not get back up again. And if you get too high from a success, look out! Temptation and/or failure may be right around the corner.

I guess I can be happy now that going to the gym is not the drudgery that it has been at other times in my life. How did I get to this point?

*First of all, I think I have repeatedly told myself over a period of years now that this is simply what I am going to do (regular exercise of some kind.) I will actually picture myself with gray hair and wrinkled skin schlepping my gym bag and pruny butt to go run or bike or lift weights when I am eighty-five.

*Then, if I get too bored or in a rut with a workout I will try something new. For instance, I had been lifting weights at the same Y for a year or so and was a little discouraged. So I decided to try a spin class. I liked it so much that I got certified as a spin instructor -and I got my membership free! But soon enough I got tired of that. I really think you need to do a more varied workout than to ride a stationary bike. Sooner or later I'm sure I'll want to try something different than I am doing now, even though that is part of why I like Crossfit. We always mix it up.

*Also, I'll sometimes buy a Men's Health magazine. Or just getting a new pair of good workout shorts or shoes can make me feel better about hitting the gym.

*Finally,I also get encouragement from talking to people who have it more together than I do. Like Amanda's cousin, Jeremy Shore. He is the real thing. If you look around, there is always someone smarter than you who would probably be glad to share what they know.

So, if you struggle with achieving a goal, start somewhere. You are not alone. The apostle Paul even said "Why do I keep doing the things that I do not want to do?" Pardon my poor paraphrasing. Everybody struggles, you win some and you lose some, but if you never try, well, you won't get anywhere.

This is a pig out that I will not repeat. Some friends and I went to Bolton's Hot Chicken and Fish on Gallatin Road in East Nashville a while back, and lets just say the end did not justify the means. (My end was on fire!)

Christmastime is Here

2009-12-01T12:04:00.003-06:00

Have you watched A Charlie Brown Christmas lately? I could get a little obsessed with its music because I love it so much. One song in particular, "Christmastime is Here."

The song captures the strange melancholy that often washes over me in waves during the holidays. Somehow it is as if this flood of wonderful Christmas memories brings with it the painful realization that things aren't just right... I haven't accomplished everything I meant to by now, pretty soon I might be bald like Charlie Brown, there are loved ones with whom I will never share another Christmas dinner. The melody, with its odd chords paired with the sweet and beautiful lyrics together paints, in the foreground, the "Sleigh bells in the air, beauty everywhere," against a back drop of this unsettling, even disconcerting longing for something more.

This longing can feel like so many different things:
Why won't this stupid string of lights work?
Is everybody conspiring together to make me this mad?
Why don't I have enough money to really make this a great Christmas?
Why can't things be perfect?

Can I get a witness? Charlie Brown can relate.

I believe this longing is placed purposefully in our hearts by God. It is an awareness that we are yet incomplete. Inadequate to fulfill our own longing. We need a Savior.

The cartoon is as a near a perfect advent sermon as I have ever heard. Charlie Brown is depressed by all the trappings of the holiday season. In his frustration he turns to Lucy's "Psychiatric Help" stand and you know she only makes things worse! Finally, at the end, Charlie Brown pleads "Doesn't ANYONE know what Christmas is all about?" and we get to the point. Linus stands center stage and eloquently recites directly from Luke's gospel, the story of Christ's birth.

That is where we always must return. I'm not sure when "A Charlie Brown Christmas" airs in your area, but pay attention and watch it. It's great.

A Thanksgiving Memory

2009-11-26T09:52:00.003-06:00

The first Thanksgiving I ever spent away from my family was one worth remembering. It had its highs: eating an awesome traditional Thanksgiving meal complete with my favorite orange rolls from All Steak in Cullman, Alabama, with a view of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and its lows: a visit from the NYC fire department, and a run in with an army of New York City's homeless population.

Truthfully, the opportunity to spend it with my dear friend Cindy, one of the best southern cooks I know, at her New York City apartment overlooking Time's Square, definitely took the edge off of any tinge of homesickness I may have been feeling. She planned to host all of our friends who didn't get to go home for the holiday in style. In her tiny apartment that had once been home to Fred Astaire, we rearranged furniture, brought in extra tables, and set the scene for what was to be an unforgettable day. I had even brought a dozen rolls from home to be baked fresh for the occasion.

Fifteen or twenty friends packed into the place that was steaming with the delicious smells of turkey, dressing, pies and casseroles. There was probably enough butter in that one meal to choke a whale, that's how good it was. Well, about the time we sat down to eat, we all start to smell smoke. Probably something on the stove...

No. I looked out the window and reflecting in the windows of the building across the street were flames! They are coming from the building next door! Connected to us! Well, all I could think of were my rolls that were still in the oven. Everybody evacuated the building except for me. When the smoke got too thick I donned some oven mitts, grabbed my precious pan of rolls, and hopped on the hundred year old elevator which creaked slowly down to the first floor. Then I ran out onto 44th Street where hundreds of homeless people were waiting for a Thanksgiving meal that was being served inside by the church on the lower floors of the building.

A better man than me might have shared those rolls with the less fortunate, but frankly, I didn't haul them on that plane with me all the way from Alabama to give them all away. I'm sorry. Is that bad?

After about twenty tense minutes that felt like hours, we all got to go back inside. The fire next door had been put out and we all got to have our meals. Santa must have already passed by this point -sometime between the fire truck's sirens and the cross-dressing homeless guy who kept eying my orange rolls.

The point here is: You never know what your getting into when you break with tradition, but you might just end up with a great story to tell if your rolls don't catch fire or get eaten by a trans gender homeless guy.

Thank Some Veterans

2009-11-14T10:20:00.006-06:00

Amanda and I spent a few days at the campus of LSU last week for my work. Most of you know by now that I play the organ for horse shows. This was the Louisiana Fall Festival.

One morning we got to campus a little early and decided to take a walk. We saw this beautiful American flag in a grassy field and were drawn to it. If you look closely you can see Amanda standing at the base of the flagpole and it gives you some perspective on just how big this flag was. The musical sound of the folds dancing in the fall breeze was just amazing.

As this week passed, with the news of balloon mom and dad pleading guilty, the poor bastard, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed who is being tried in NYC for the heinous acts of 9/11, the shooting at Fort Hood... I tried to pause a few moments and reflect on some worthy people.

Our great country enjoys freedom and peace because of our Veterans. Those serving now and in the past are deserving of all our gratitude and honor. I am humbled at the thought of their bravery. In the coming season of Thanksgiving, lets all be sure to thank a few more Vets post Veteran's Day.

When You Fail

2009-11-02T11:16:00.002-06:00

When you fail, and it will happen, how will you deal with it? Will you lay down, find some friends who will say "Well... you didn't really fail, you were just a victim." Or will you change your standards to match your inadequacies? Or will you get up, dust yourself off and try again?

If you do not fail, you will not grow. If you constantly avoid failure, you truncate your potential. If you make the same mistake over and over, you are not alone. But if you decide that success isn't worth the effort, then you are wrong.

Change is possible, but it will not happen if you are not willing to confront the junk that is in place that facilitates the problem. Pastor Dan Scott preached an awesome sermon about this yesterday at Christ Church. Visit christchurchnashville.org and go to sermons to see it for yourself.

Lord, please give me the strength and wisdom to keep getting back on that old horse every time time I fall off.

Have a Plan

2009-10-26T18:07:00.004-05:00

This weekend I attended a performance "boot camp" hosted by Tom Jackson, performance coach to the stars. He jokes that people have called him a cross between Tim Robbins and Ozzy Osbourne. I was thoroughly inspired.

He reminded us that nothing happens without work. He spoke to the delusional side of those of us with unfulfilled goals who say to ourselves, once I get my big break, then I'll do the preparation for my big show in front of thousands of people, or whatever that dream might be. He offered the sound advice that unless we have done that work already, the chances of our break falling from a silver lined cloud are about as likely as Jon Gosselin returning to Kate on the back of a beautiful white wedding stallion. I'm paraphrasing of course.

The weekend had its high moments, and its low ones. Watching Tom take a performance from totally ordinary to really cool with a few small changes was clearly toward the top. The lower end was a toss up between the pre-packaged honey buns and the guy who lost me when he made fun of Jon Mayer. Don't get me wrong, he's a brilliant vocal coach if you can just get past his product pushing and name dropping.

Back to the good stuff. Don't wait for somebody else to make your dreams happen. You have to take it step by step. There are no shortcuts. OK, very few. If you build your strategy around shortcuts though, you will fail. Then you will probably blame someone else.

What do I do now? Start building the plan for my show. If you want specifics, you can check out Tom's website, onstagesuccess.com. He twitters, blogs, facebooks, yea he's a pretty hip dude. Not to mention that this guy started World Vision, which has raised astronomical amounts of money for charity, and tour support for the artists who share the information at their concerts.

I also plan to begin sharing opportunities to support Holt International at my performances. They are an international adoption agency that I connected with over the weekend and will be talking more about in the future.

Honestly, I came away from the weekend feeling pretty good about where I am now. I also came away with better defined goals, and a plan for some things I have to work on. Like what to say to my audience, whittling down the "goulash" of music to really point to the most interesting parts so that audiences "get it," and mainly just doing that thing that may be the hardest thing in my life to do... plan. You could apply what we learned this weekend to just about anything you wanted to do.

Have a plan, work the plan, repeat.

My Book Reviews

2009-10-19T09:51:00.007-05:00

I recently read my friend Melissa Richie's blog post titled Book Review. I liked it so much that it made me want to write a similar post here. A few of the books she reviews are Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, which I now plan to read, Dan Allender's Bold Love, and Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff. You can link to her blog from here, just look under my Friends Online heading and click The Richies Three.

I went to the bookshelf and tried to get a true cross section of books I have read in the past year or so. In reading Melissa's blog, she was quite positive most of the time in her opinions. I wanted to get plenty of things I did not like to include here, then I realized, I tend not to read the things I don't like. Duh.

I am warning you, this is going to be long, and I am going to be as honest as I can be.

The Bible - God

To prove that I'm going to be honest, I'll begin with the One Year Chronological Bible. My friend JT Thomas gave this to me about seven years ago and I am only a little over halfway through it. I am almost to the new Testament and I often pray that the Lord will help me be inspired to continue reading, but I'm obviously struggling a bit with it. There are a lot of kings who "did what was evil in the sight of the Lord" lately and it is so hard for me to stick with it. I know it is my duty, and I will continue, and my official review is overwhelmingly positive, I know how it ends, but there are some tedious parts that one day I hope to understand, but right now... whew, it's hard.

The Brethren - John Grisham

I was not crazy about this book. I guess I read it because he is so popular and I wanted to see for myself what all the hype was about. It has been a while, so I do not remember too many details; but the main story line was about man who came up with a scheme to extort money from high powered gay men by corresponding through the mail and threatening to expose their secret. Don't get me wrong, it held my attention, but for the most part, I felt that even though his characters were compelling, and very believable, he presumed too much upon the reader's patience by going on and on and on, which I will attempt not to do here.

Same Kind of Different As Me - Ron Hall & Denver Moore

Again, here was a New York Times Bestseller that I thought was just Ok. It goes back and forth between the perspective of an uneducated and poor black man and a rich white art dealer who strike up a friendship and in doing so, the white man ends up learning life lessons from his new friend. The white guy's wife, Debbie, dies of cancer in the process. I thought it was a bit predictable and over sentimental. I enjoyed the black man's parts. He was well written.

The Shack - William P. Young

I read this because our preacher recommended it from the pulpit and he has never let me down. It is an excruciatingly painful story of a man whose daughter is violently murdered. Don't worry, I'm not giving anything away, this happens very early in the book. Then he meets God in several different forms. Young has his weaknesses that I was happy to forgive in exchange for his profound insight into the nature of the Holy Trinity. This book helped me specifically through a difficult relationship when I needed to forgive a deep hurt. It is not for you if you cannot roll with supernatural things, a folksy and at times a bit exasperating writing style, or if you have no interest in the deep things of Christianity. None of those things bother me enough to poo poo this powerful work of fiction.

Harry Potter 1-7 JK Rowling

Melissa reviewed these books the same way I will. If you read them, you loved them, if you didn't, what in the world are you waiting on? If you are one of the Christians who disagree fundamentally with allowing children to read about such things, then I will bet you haven't read them yourself. Even though I sympathize with your position, I adamantly disagree and think you really should lighten up, read the books, then make your judgment. I was constantly amazed and inspired by Rowling's boundless imagination. The world she creates is so completely believable, so colorful, vivid, powerful, and so full of gut level wisdom. It teaches without preaching, it inspires courage, loyalty, and love. It goes beyond any earthly boundary without ever seeming far fetched. I didn't cry at the end, I sobbed. I heaved. I love these books.

Extreme Measures - Vince Flynn

Vince Flynn books are like the TV show 24 in book form. Mitch Rapp is Jack Bower without commercials or Fox's limited budget. My good buddies James Kling and Peter Thewes and I pass these books around like comic books. They are what we call "twaddle," or fluff, but I have to have one every now and then when I have been thinking too much. These books appeal to the conservative, the patriot, the adventurer. I honestly can't remember the exact story line of this one, but I can say with all certainty that if Vince wrote it, it's a page turner, it races to a breathless climax, and leaves you wanting more.

Angels and Demons - Dan Brown

Loved it. Same lead character from DaVinci Code, only without all the stuff about Jesus not being who he really is, and an even more dramatic ending. This ending may be the best of any book in the thriller genre that I have ever read.

Digital Fortress - Dan Brown

It is Dan Brown, but not as good as any of his other books. It was fine, but not worth a re-read.

Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell

If there is a better work of fiction, in my opinion, I cannot recall it. It contains all of the things I like in a book. Great characters, heart-wrenchingly sad parts, humor, set in the south, epic. If you are from the South and haven't watched the movie, I cannot imagine why, and I guess I am not talking to you. The book tells the story that the movie did not have time or money to tell. There are more characters, more story, just more, wonderful, Gone With the Wind. Mitchell's description of these people reminds me of my ancestors. The "old guard" always made me remember my great grandmother Kennedy. The way these men and women persevered through terrible hardship and held strong to their beliefs and identity is a testament to the character of a people who were defeated and still forged on through unbearable difficulty.

One particular device that I would be mindful of if reading this book, is Mitchell's creative use of animals to quickly and accurately describe her characters. For instance, Charles Hamilton, Scarlett's first husband is compared to a "calf looking at a new gate." Then any time he comes back, the calf reference takes you right back to his character seamlessly. That white trash Slattery girl is called "rabbity." Frank Kennedy is referred to as "that hen in britches." Almost every character has his or her own animal that gives a quick, and unforgettable snapshot of the person, yet if you weren't looking for it, you would not even realize it.

An inescapable aspect of the book that also interested me is the relationships between black and white people. The way Mitchell portrayed Mammy was at once as a wise old motherly figure while also using terms that would now be regarded as demeaning and politically unacceptable. Which came first, I cannot be sure, but I believe that the people of the south and our rocky history of race relations have been influenced by this book for better or worse.

Some other reasons why I love this book:
Miss Melanie. You love her so much because she is so good; but you hate her right along with Scarlett because she's so damn good.
Mammy. She can literally do no wrong.
When news came that the Tarleton twins had died, I cried.
When Prissy bawled "Miss Scarlett, I's scared a' cows!" it made me laugh out loud.
Rhett. You respect him through all his juvenile efforts to come off as a rascal, because you know, deep down, he just loves Scarlett, the poor idiot.
Belle Whatling. Who doesn't love a generous, kind hearted whore?

Then there is the end. It is the saddest place we can imagine to leave our fiery Scarlett. Dripping wet, finally realising things that we as readers have known for some time, asking Rhett, "Where shall I go? What shall I do?" Here is the reason we still love this book. Mitchell knows, as we know, that Scarlett will do what she has always done. Through hell or high water, she will survive. And we all hope we would have the guts to do the same thing.

Rhett Butler's People - Donald McCaig

This is the sequel to Gone With the Wind that was authorized by Margaret Mitchell's estate. It is well worth reading, and is certainly the better of two sequels that have been written after GWTW. The other one, Scarlett, although very entertaining to me, was entirely different from Rhett Butler's People, and maybe a little less believable.

McCaig's book begins when Rhett is a child, follows through Mitchell's GWTW story line, all the while expounding more information from Rhett's perspective. However, as expected, it continues on past the place Mitchell left off. To the GWTW devotee who says there will never be another, you are right, but this book will have you believing that McCaig was privileged to have a posthumous conversation with Margaret Mitchell about some things she forgot to put in her first book. For instance, there are letters from Melanie to Rhett that are totally unforgettable, a son from Belle Whatling, and a dramatic ending set at Tara that make this book a winner.

Be The Pack Leader - Cesar Milan

For any dog owner, I would almost say this is required reading. You basically learn that you have the power and responsibility to train your dog to be a well-behaved member of the family or "pack." He basically begins with walking your dog regularly and correctly. From here, Milan explains how most all undesirable acts from your dog can be remedied. He comes from a unique place, because, as he says, growing up in Mexico, most dogs there have no problem obeying people, although they are often mistreated. Here in the US, we have confused the fact that dogs are animals, and we mistakenly treat them like one of us and end up paying the price in manic behavior from our pets. We have dogs that believe they are in charge of their masters, so they make everybody miserable, including the dog!

A New Earth - Eckhart Tolle

When Oprah had a whole class on this book, I was intrigued. I wanted to know what it was all about. I suspected, as a Christian, that there would be much that I disagreed with, but I had no idea what a bunch of baloney it really was until I bought it and read the first fourth. It struck me as something that could easily be believed if you have been hurt by people claiming to be Christians, but not acting like it. It is the same new age bunk that proposes all roads lead to god that we have heard a million times. It is Hinduism more than anything else, although Tolle would likely not agree. It is surprising to me that someone with as much sense as Oprah would fall for this junk. I could not finish it, so maybe it gets better at the end.

Congratulations! You finished this blog. If you would like to add your own review for one of the books that I reviewed, or if you have a similar or a differing opinion on anything I have written, I would love to hear what you think. You can post your comments here or email me at swbeam@gmail.com.

As a Dog Lover and Health Enthusiast

2009-10-08T09:14:00.006-05:00

As a dog lover, we take the good with the bad. We deal with things that were chewed, puked on, pooped on, or otherwise creatively ruined. In exchange, we receive the most unconditional love, the funniest entertainment, and, if you have a pooch, you may fill in the blank here.

We have a dog named Ginny Jackson. She is the best dog I know, even if she is mine. But this week I had to deal with two window panes that she broke. I was so mad, but I really had to be mad at myself. Here's where the health enthusiast part meets up with the dog lover.

Just like humans, dogs have needs. They need to be walked, stimulated, engaged, and led. They need to be a part of a healthy pack. Thank you, Cesar Milan. Most every problem we encounter with dogs can come back to this principle. She has been cooped up without proper exercise for a week or so, and this energy went to poking her nose so hard at the window that she broke it.

Here is a photo of us taking Ginny to her favorite pond at the City Park in Arab, Alabama while we were on a trip there. We do give her exercise often. Earlier this week she went on a bike ride with me. This can be a little dangerous, so consider yourself warned if you want to try it.

This is our friend finishing a half marathon. Since his wife is a little freaked out about identity theft right now, we'll call him Dr. Doe. We had a great time a few days ago cheering him on. Now, we got out of bed at 6:00 on a Saturday morning, but after the initial shock of it, when Jane and the kids got here and we all went to the race route and cheered on the runners, we had a great time.

This is pretty cut and dry. If you do not make room for healthy pursuits like exercising and eating healthy, even for the dog, you will deal with the consequences. You can get out in front as much as you can and make good decisions, or you can deal with your bad decisions later. Either way there is some suffering to be done. It is normal and can even be healthy.

This is life's yen and yang. It is the beauty and the mess. Without the bad, we cannot appreciate the good.

Confucius Beam say, "Get off your butt and walk, run, bike, or swim the dog! Or yourself! You'll be glad, it might take a while, but you'll be glad you did."

To Communicate, and How

2009-10-05T09:50:00.006-05:00

Right now I am reading David McCullough's biography of John Adams. It is a bit tedious for me, but I am determined to get through it. As much as I find the history interesting, I think the thing that most intrigues me about the book is the command of our language that Adams and his contemporaries had.

These are the men who penned our Declaration of Independence. When I think about what passes for English now in comparison to their writing, I feel embarrassed. We do not hold our language up to the high standard that they did.

We treat our language the same way we treat our food. We drive down the road while stuffing a Gordita or Chalupa into our mouths after squeezing on a little red high fructose corn syrup Tabasco Ketchup mixture from a foil pouch and call it dinner. We txt OMG and LOL to our BFF's from our IPhone and Crackberry and call it conversation.

Our current poor language habits are no more communication the way it should be than those pathetic sacks of super high sodium meat by-products and white processed flour are proper meals. With all our education and twentieth century wisdom, I believe we can do better.

I am going to pick on my own kind here for just a minute. As Christians, you will find in the same congregation, those who will only read from the King James Version of the Bible but cannot put together a proper sentence. What's up with that?

OK, I like my fluff every now and then as much as anybody else when it comes to what I read, watch or eat. So I just want be aware that when I'm reading Twilight, eating Papa John's, and listening to SexyBack, I may not be rising to my ultimate goal as the wise and enlightened man that I long to be.

As a Southerner I want to preserve our unique culture and way of speaking as much as anyone; but I am afraid that many of us have equated a southern accent with a ticket to forget basic correct grammar. Then we wonder why we are sometimes perceived as backward and stupid.

There is no doubt that there will be errors in what I write, maybe even in this blog! I am working on becoming a better writer and, therefore a more effective communicator. I intend to teach my children, if I am ever blessed with them, to value and respect our language for what it is. After all, I think it is fair to say that words are something of extremely high value to our Lord.

John 1:14, And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

If you can't communicate effectively, how can you expect to have any influence? And if you do not have any influence, what do you have? You could still probably get a Chalupa.

Rain, Rain, Soggy, Sloppy Rain

2009-09-23T12:32:00.003-05:00

Lately I have been feeling a little soggy, sloppy, slimy. Just like everyone in the southeast. With this relentless rain and temps in the 80's for weeks in a row now, if I'm not getting wet from what's falling out of the sky, it's what's pouring out of me like Hoover Dam just busted open out from under my armpits.

Now Autumn is my favorite season, so I do have the consolation of knowing that at least the temperatures will soon subside, and hopefully we will be drying out a bit too. The other upside is that when the sun does decide to show it's beautiful face again, everything will be so green and lush, like a tropical rain forest in good ole' Dixie.

What a change from this time last year when we were all so parched that an eyedropper full of rain was as scarce as hen's teeth.

I guess this all boils down to the fact that, if you just look around and choose to learn, you can find something positive in every situation. I love the seasons. I think God gives them to us so we can better appreciate his creation. We get to see it in a full array of Fall color, the fury of a powerful lightening storm, the peaceful Winter snows, Spring's verdant bliss, and the lazy, hazy, crazy days of Summer. About the time one is coming to a close, I cannot wait for the other to bring something different.

Life is that way. If you are stuck, just hold on, keep looking toward heaven, and a new season will come eventually. You might even learn some patience in the meantime.

9-11

2009-09-10T16:00:00.006-05:00

This is a day that forever take me back. A day that will always make me ache with sadness and swell with pride. A day that I still have nightmares about from time to time. This is a day that makes me so mad that I could easily justify the most horrendous torture imaginable if it meant bringing every last one of those pathetic murderers who knocked down our twin towers and killed our firemen and innocent civilians to justice.

I work out with a bunch of firemen and EMTs. I know that their wives worry about them every time they go to work. I know that they are some of the toughest guys I have ever encountered. I know that I do not have what it takes to do what they do. God has gifted them with a bravery and a sense of adventure that I envy and respect.

The men who walked into those buildings with the singular mission that was to save as many lives as possible were that same breed. Brave, selfless, yea, maybe a little rough around the edges, but when things get as bad as they can get, those are the guys I want backing me up.

Never forget. Never forget. Never forget the surge of patriotism that we all felt together, the fear we shared, the tears we cried, the painful hours we spent glued to the TV, the blood we donated, the ones who are still fighting the fight that began that terrible day, the ones who died that day. Never forget.

Find a Mentor, Be a Mentor

2009-09-09T12:30:00.004-05:00

This happy little bundle of joy is Mugisha.

Last week I got to spend some time helping him and several of our other African friends move. Amanda and I met them while teaching ESL on Wednesday nights last winter at Christ Church. I hope I am an encouragement to them. I am truly inspired by them, and intrigued by their culture. In my attempt to enlighten them about the countless things they need to know as they continue to make the transition to becoming African Americans, I have remembered some of the people who have been important in directing my life.

My good friend Amanda Phillips always likes to get information in bullets, not paragraphs. So, in honor of Amanda, I will give a list of reasons why you should find a mentor and be a mentor.

1. There is no possible way you know everything you need to know about what you do/want to do. If you just look around there are certainly people who know way more than you who need to share their skills with you.

2. It is guaranteed that someone around you is suffering because they do not know something that you could be sharing with them if you would just notice, and make them a priority.

3. Relationships, to me, are the most important thing in life. If you are mentoring and are being mentored, you are building on to the quality of your life and others lives around you.

4. You get paid for what you know, not for what you do. It is a way for you to know more.

5. A mentor is someone whose mistakes you do not have to repeat.

6. You will need good people around you when you get old. The people you mentor might be those people.

7. Being a mentor is a wonderful way that you can leave a legacy.

This is Bertha. They pronounce her name "Mmberta." That laundry basket was overflowing with not only laundry, but all kinds of very heavy things, and she was balancing it with no hands while walking!

Louisville

2009-09-03T14:30:00.015-05:00

This is a post that somehow got deleted last summer. If it looks familiar, it was posted for a few days and then something happened that made it go away. But it is back for your winter enjoyment

Last weekend, we went to Louisville, KY for me to research the World's Championship Saddlebred Horse Show there. We brought our friend, Amanda Phillips along just for fun. (She's on the right, and my Amanda is the one saying to herself, when are you going to let us get up!?)

There was no shortage of fun to be had. Bardstown Road had some really cool shops where we spent the afternoon just looking around. First things first, we had sushi at The Dragon King's Daughter. It was excellent sushi at a great value. After lunch we stopped into Clay and Cotton. The Amanda's were looking for bargains, but all the colorful stuff in there put me in the mood to take pictures.

I believe these were rolls of paper. It might have been fabric; either way, I thought it made a fun pic.

Then we went into this funky dress shop, but all I could look at were the Styrofoam heads wearing big hats.

This chick is pretty content with her hat. She knows she probably couldn't do much better with those wrinkles and that big beauty mark.

This girl looks like she really has something going on under her sparkly pink hat. She's got some big ole lips.

Speaking of big... This size L "reading is sexy" t-shirt was at a neat store called "Why Louisville." There were so many cool things in there I can't even begin to describe it. Maybe I can. They had a six foot tall wolf man dressed like a nerd, a box of Mr. T Cereal, some extremely colorful poodle watering cans, pretty much anything you would need.

This little elf man looks creepy, in my favorite kind of way. Like he might jump out from behind that glass and say, "At your SUUH-VICE!"

The KY State Fair was going on at the same time as the horse show. I have never seen such clean cows!

This horse show is the fanciest one I have ever seen. There was a brass ensemble in addition to the regular organist. And the same bugle player who plays for the Derby. It was truly a high falooting ordeal. You know, you might be surprised at just how much those Kentuckians know about horses! Almost as much as us Tennesseans.

Thanks to Jason and Lyndsy Hammil for graciously hosting us. And to Kent Moeller for the passes to the Fair and the Horse Show. We had such a great time!

You Might Stinketh

2009-09-02T09:40:00.005-05:00

I noticed this little sign a few days ago and I started thinking; there are a lot of people who saw this sign and took it to heart! A brief explanation: I was at a big horse show and, by necessity, there are designated areas for such things.

Do you ever catch yourself noticing only life's manure? Unfortunately, I do. It's everywhere, and sometimes it seems to demand our attention. The problem is when we come to believe that we are somehow superior in our observations of life. Then, by focusing our attention on negative things, we slip into a bitter and jaded mentality, or a very crappy way of thinking.

John Calhoun was my pastor at The Lamb's Church of the Nazarene when I lived in New York City several years ago. He once preached a sermon on this topic that stuck with me until now. He said that it doesn't take a genius to point out the problems in a situation. They are easy to spot. That sounds simple, but if you actually begin to try to shift your focus away from the negativity as a habit, it starts to seem more and more profound.

What you choose to notice makes all the difference.

At that same horse show, we looked up one evening and the sky was like that beautiful scene from "Gone With the Wind" where Scarlett's dad, Gerald O'Hara, explains the importance of Tara. Now if Scarlett had been paying attention to some poop on the ground instead of listening to her father in that moment, she would have had nothing to say after Rhett delivered his most famous "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" line. That's when she remembers "I know what I'll do, I'll go back to Tara!"

Pay attention to what you notice, and make sure it is not only manure. Think about it. You become what you focus on. As a man thinketh in his heart, so he is.

Maybe if you are not happy with the direction of your life right now, you need to consider what you thinketh, because you might just stinketh.

Happy Ending to a Happy Beginning

2009-08-27T10:18:00.012-05:00

Yea, we had a grand opening for our Etsy shop about a month ago, and it went really well. The only thing that didn't go exactly as planned was that we were so busy making the grand opening into the huge, smashing success that it was, that we neglected to actually do the work of getting the stuff posted and available. So really, it was a grand preview for a grand opening that was coming soon.

Not a failure, just a slight miscommunication. It reminds me of a funny story that my Mamma likes to tell about me. As a kid, I had a reputation as the kid with the best Halloween parties in town, or maybe even in the whole of Marshall county. We had elaborate costumes, witches on pulleys that flew across the yard, cakes that burst into flames, once we even had a real headless horseman! Oh, and always, always, a casket with a "dead" person popping out. Huge fun right?

Well, one particular year, I had made all my preparations for the party, I may have already been suited up in my Vampire costume, that was almost always my costume of choice, and Mamma found me crying in my room. "What in the world is it?" She asked.

"I forgot to invite anybody." I boo hooed.

The story has a happy ending. My sweet Mamma got on the phone and called all my friend's Mammas. We had a big crowd that night, and my party was a success. Well, I did accidentally set the haunted piano on fire, (this year Dracula happened to get inspired to play a lot of minor chords on the upright piano in the haunted living room/dining room, and there had to be a candelabra and the best place for it to go was the little shelf where the music goes... there's a ledge above that that I didn't notice was right over the candle's flame.) We got it put out without having to call the fire department. Fortunately, my dad was on hand and he was a volunteer fireman at the time. You know this is all true. How or why in the world could I make it up?

In the photo, you see me re-living my past. Only this time I'm at a horse show on Halloween, and I'm getting paid to play those same minor chords I played while setting my poor parent's piano on fire. Sorry y'all. Does anybody else think I look like my Dad in this picture? I feel a little old looking at it.

I got in big trouble, but you know it was so worth it. What is a piano playing Dracula without a candelabra?

Back to the awaken shop. Today, you can go online to shopawaken.etsy.com and shop for our neat, one-of-a-kind, stuff. I really mean it this time. And just like the Halloween party, I pray this story has a happy ending to a happy beginning.

Drive-In Double Date

2009-08-24T08:03:00.016-05:00

On Saturday night, we had double date night with our friends, the Phillips. We had all said that it would be fun to go to the drive in, so Amanda, true to form, had researched all of the theatres within a 50 mile radius. She knew what movies were playing, who would charge extra for bringing your own food, the mother's maiden name of the owners, and what they had for breakfast. We chose the drive-in at Lewisburg, TN. It is a neat, family owned operation with a sweet, red-headed girl attendant whose grandparents have owned the theatre since the 50's. It seemed like kind of a one woman show, as she cleaned bathrooms, took up ticket money, ($6.00 per person) and gave the pitch for the concession stand -and the inside scoop on anything else one might want to know, like which horse to bet on for the 2010 Kentucky Derby.

We were a little early, so we pulled into a big parking lot and popped the trunk where Amanda had packed away an amazing spinach dip (1 box frozen chopped spinach, 1/2 cup whole milk Greek yogurt, or sour cream, 1/2 mayonnaise, 1/2 an onion minced, 1 clove garlic minced, a little fresh parsley) with Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits, mmm, because we were all hungry. This was everybody's favorite. Disclaimer: the food we ate on this trip is not approved by Crossfit or the Zone diet. It was the weekend!

We happened to be in the parking lot of the biggest Goodwill store I have ever seen.

The Amandas did their own thing for a while, looking at books,

while Christopher found some interesting old vinyl records, yea, that's Reba Rambo. And I took pictures of things that I found entertaining.

This little "coach" looks like he had a long, happy life on some kid's shelf, but the only thing he'll be coaching anymore is maybe the cockroach races when the Goodwill lights go off at night.

We all agreed that this little baby doll sandwich gets the creepy award. If you peeled the little green price tag off the side of its head, I bet blood would spurt out and the head would spin.

Micheal Bolton, Beaches, yea, those were the days. Of what? Big hair, Bette Midler, and tight rolled, acid washed jeans.

Kermit's Grandpa's golfing buddy.

Somebody didn't care one bit for this poor little blue bear.

We had an amazing picnic of one of our favorites, Shrimp and Orzo salad, Tomato and Tuscan Bread salad, (both Ina recipe's which can be found on the food network's website.) Dessert was Amanda's famous Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies.

Then came the movie. No previews, no Coke or popcorn commercials, just straight to it. There was a little getting used to the sound, you tune in your radio to hear it, but there was a little buzz. The tiny bit of rust on the old metal screen just added to the cool factor, but the picture was a little blurry on top of that, but then that might have been our dirty windshield. I think it made us all cry. My Sister's Keeper is the story of a family working through the horrible ordeal of a child's dying of cancer. Beautifully acted, gut wrenchingly sad, my kind of flick.

The highlight of the weekend was really being with great friends in perfect weather and laughing our collective butts off. Thank you, Lord. I don't know what we did to deserve this weekend, but I'll take it and some more, please.

Horseshow Time

2009-08-20T15:44:00.010-05:00

As long as I live, late August into September will be forever carved into my mind as horse show time. I grew up going to the Tennessee Walking Horse Celebration and the Racking Horse Celebration every year from the time I was born. It takes me back to sparkling chrome horse trailers, the smell of fresh hay and sawdust, saddle soap and fried food, thousands of horses and people... glory days.

My school notebooks were full of horse drawings and my brain was fixed on daydreams of myself riding around the big ring on my horse with a blue ribbon and cheering fans. Since I've become an adult, I have missed the Celebration just a few times, but even when I'm not there, these memories are so powerful that I'm sure if I never went back, it would still be a benchmark on my brain's emotional calendar.

The anticipation of seeing friends, the competition, the late night barn parties, and the occasional behind the barn mischief was something like mainlining adrenaline to my ten year old brain. So much of who I am now was being formed in those dusty alleys between barns and in the prints of horse's hooves.

I immediately think of my Mamaw Nita Ann and Papaw Harold. Their preparations began months in advance. They always had their big brown and white Pace Arrow motor home stuffed to overflowing with food, show duds, bill caps advertising the names of horses and stables, jackets embroidered in our stable's colors and our names on the front, -all necessary items for a proper Celebration, and that's really only the beginning. Even the golf cart had to be loaded up on the back of a pick-up truck, usually without any of us suffering serious injury, but not always.

Where am I going with this? Well, I guess I'm just thinking about how much those times mean to me right now. And whatever effort went into making them seems trivial when compared to the treasure chest of memories I have today. Yea, we were all utterly exhausted when it was all over, but I would not change a single thing. Maybe the stress of it all contributed to my Mamaw's current failing health and Papaw's heart attack and five hip replacements. But if I could ask my Papaw in heaven right now if it was worth all that effort, I am sure I know exactly what he would say.

"Hell yea boy! Them were some of the best times of our life."

I Love Roller Coasters/Turning Art Into Money

2009-08-18T21:35:00.005-05:00

Sorry for that repulsive picture of myself in that last post. What was I thinking!? I thought it was funny at the time, but now every time I check my blog I think it is less funny and more just scary.

Today I worked on my new horse show CD, Swingin' in the Saddle. I want to talk about what I do, and how I got to do it. I know so many musically talented people who have almost forgotten that part of who they are. In most school music settings, the obvious realistic options for making money in a music related field are, school music teacher, member of an orchestra, opera singer, hmm, that's about it as I remember.

That is not the real world. People need music in all kinds of places. And they will pay for it! You just have to find those places, and be able to deliver what they want. Here are just a few of the places I have been able to turn music into money: parties of every kind, church, theme parks, dinner theatre, piano bars, country clubs, weddings, funerals, and last but far from least, horse shows. I played my first horse show when I was maybe sixteen in my hometown of Arab, Alabama for the local Park and Recreation's yearly fundraiser. Now, almost twenty years later, I earn 90% of my income from playing horse shows all over the US. The other 10% comes from church work, parties, and other miscellaneous gigs.

I guess what I'm getting around to is, if you just listen only to what you learn in school, and aren't willing to do something that isn't perfectly laid out before you with step by step instructions, then chances are you will not make much money from music, or any of the creative arts for that matter. Do not hear me saying that I didn't learn a lot in school, I am saying that in my line of work, and probably plenty of others, school is just a starting point for your education. You become the Dean of Students when you get that diploma. You must always be learning.

Right now I am reading Andy Andrew's book, "The Noticer." I think the main point he makes in this book is a principle that has been working for me for quite a while now. Opportunities are everywhere, you simply have to pay attention and notice what is going on around you. You have to be flexible, identify the voices in your life that bring you up, and then you must listen closely.

I can name a short list of people who have mentored me and they are all voices that I still hear often. They are like Andrew's character named Jones. They noticed me, and I noticed them. Then God added his blessing and I am thankful for that.

If you are an artist of any sort, find a place to do your art. Find the people who respond to what you do. Notice those opportunities, and those people who are trying to guide you toward the path that God preordained for you long before you were born. Yea, it might feel a little like a roller coaster ride, but I LOVE roller coasters!

Dealing With Soreness, and Cake

2009-08-09T21:24:00.005-05:00

Something that it seems nobody really talks about that much when talking about fitness and exercise is soreness. The fact is, there is quite a lot of pain involved in getting healthy, relatively speaking. That is perfectly normal, and it will not kill you.

Now as you continue to work your muscles, your body adapts. You will become more efficient at recovery. But there have been many nights that I wake up and am shocked at how hard it is to waddle to the bathroom because of the squats, lunges, box jumps, or whatever I did the day before, or even two days before! Climbing up the stairs to get into bed can feel more like scaling Mount Everest, and sitting down, particularly the descent, whew!

I have a motto, one of many, but this one I made up all on my own as best as I can remember. It is, "Life is hard, once you realize that, everything else gets easier." Basically, there is a corner that every person can choose to round. It is when you look around and notice that there is not a single person born into this world that escapes pain. We convince ourselves that ours is unique, somehow worse than other's, or that nobody would understand if they only knew how bad we really had it, but that is a bunch of bull. You are not alone in your pain. And you can withstand far more than you think.

So I have taken a lot of Ibuprofen in my life. Lately I have been going for aspirin instead because Evan, one of my Crossfit trainers, made the point that the very inflammation that Ibuprofen treats is important to building stronger muscles. I'm really simplifying what he actually said, but I think that is the long and short of it. I'm not saying you should pop a pill every time you have a little ache, I'm just sayin' sometimes you've gotta have something.

So if you want to see your body change, don't kid yourself. There is no getting around the soreness and pain. But I believe it is worth it. To me it is like this; do I want to suffer a bit now on my terms, or have my body break down on me because of under use and suffer later? I'll take my medicine now, thank you. When I can do something about it. I know there are no guarantees, but I'm putting my money on working hard for a strong, healthy body now rather than waiting to see what will become of my "temple" by coasting along.

Yea, I just ate a piece of cake. But I have not had dessert all weekend, and this thing has been sitting in there since Amanda made it on Thursday. I had some cake with ice cream. You just can't have it ALL the time. Make it the exception and not the rule. I'm not saying it will be easy, I am saying that it can be done.

I have heard that even a bad picture is better than no picture, so there you go. There is a picture with this post.

Crossfit Chronicles

2009-08-08T10:54:00.005-05:00

Today I did something I haven't done before. On Saturdays, some of the really committed crossfitters go out to a local park and do insane workouts. I normally go to a weekly class where I am generally toward top of my class with regard to the amount of time I complete challenges and/or the weight I can lift. Today, however, I was solidly at the bottom of my class, but I still felt great. (Well, like really close to puking, gasping for air, and fire coursing through my legs great.)

At the risk of this blog becoming a little like an Andy Griffith episode where Opie, Andy, Barney or somebody always learns a lesson, there is a lesson to be gleaned from this. You gain strength and confidence from being with people not as strong as you, but you might gain even more from being with people who are much stronger than you in a particular area.

Our warm up was to run up a hill. Not a small one either. Then, the workout was to partner up, and sprint up that hill. At the top of the hill, you keel over and breathe very hard for three to five minutes, then walk back down that hill. I was with Matt and Mike this time. They smoked me, but they encouraged me and did everything they could to build my confidence and never point out my relative weakness.

Then I ran with Jason. I got off to a great start, a little ahead of him! But about halfway up, he breezed my ass like I was standing still. By the last ten yards, it would be a stretch to say I was running, but in my heart and mind, I was running like there was a bear on my heels.

Then, back at the bottom of the hill, you partner up again, pick up weights, from ten to thirty-five pound dumbbells in each hand, and run as hard as you can up that hill. This time I was with Jill. Now the ten pound weights were a hot commodity and they were gone when it came to be my turn, so I ran with twenty-fives against Jill, who had slightly lighter weights, but was ahead of me the entire time. Yea, I was totally beaten by a girl, but all I got was yells of praise and encouragement about how good I was doing.

You have to put yourself in an environment where you are challenged and encouraged if you want to succeed in anything. It teaches you how to act when you are on the other side and you have the opportunity to be patient and encourage someone who may not be as strong as you.

You have to look for opportunities to excel, to be great. You have to step up to the plate and take a swing and be ready for whatever happens. One thing is absolutely certain; you will never do it by settling for the status quo. You have to start somewhere.

Back to Basics

2009-08-07T10:18:00.004-05:00

With all of the great produce that is in season right now, and having over half of a lean, local, organic, grass fed cow in our freezer, I've been thinking about food and health a lot. I have also felt a huge amount of energy and been so encouraged by my workouts at Crossfit Murfreesboro.
Link
Thank you, Evan Satterfield and David Branch.

That gets me to today's blog topic. I'd like to get back to the primary value of this blog as it relates to my passion for health and nutrition.

In the last few months, I have gained muscle and lost fat, but more than that, I am stronger and can do things that I couldn't do before. Now when you read that I did that; I can imagine many of you saying to yourselves, "Whoopty doo, good for you," with a proper amount of sarcasm. But, when it's you, it is so much different. When you can walk up the stairs and not be winded, when you can fit into your clothes better, when you see a different person in the mirror, it changes everything.

I cannot give enough emphasis to the value of a healthy lifestyle that includes strenuous exercise and smart eating choices. I want to scream: "Do not believe that you are incapable of being fit!" That is a lie from the devil that will rob you of the best version of yourself. You may not be a lanky supermodel, but you can always improve.

When I was in Junior High School, I was chubby. I wore "huskies." Is that supposed to make a kid feel better? Husky!? I say why not call em' what they are. They're for fat kids! In my house, like most houses, where I grew up, we ate pretty much whatever we wanted. Even if that meant picking up a Snickers, or a bag of greasy chips for an after school snack. If we wanted it, we ate it.

In their defense, my parent's parents were close enough to poverty to remember true hunger, and that memory runs deep enough to pass down for generations. Now, except in rare situations, in the USA, even the poor have enough food to eat, and machines now do much of the physical labor that once kept us healthy. We equate food with so many things besides what it is: fuel. We exchange it for comfort, love, attention, celebration, mourning, reward, entertainment, or a remedy for boredom. You can fill in the blank.

We have to call a spade a spade here. Something has to change, or the next generation will go right on eating themselves to death the way we are! If we don't change, we are sure to lose the very thing we trying to gain when we choose to indulge in crap, and that is, quality of life.

Now, I still have room to improve, but I am pretty fit. And I know that when my health improves, my productivity in every other area of life improves, not to mention that I'm able to have more fun because I have more energy!

So are those extra 20, 30, 50 or more pounds you have by not exercising and choosing bad foods really adding to your quality of life? Are you ready for your heart bypass surgery or diabetes diagnosis?

I really mean for this to be inflammatory. I want you to think. I want you to know that eating healthy and exercising can be much more satisfying than the alternative. It takes work. Basically, it takes stepping out of your comfort zone into the scary unknown. Is that really so bad though? What we fear is almost always worse in our imagination than it is in reality. Start somewhere.

In the photo my Mamma and I are grabbing an opportunity to sweat a little at our family's Fourth of July bash. I am so proud of my Mamma. She has been working out at her local gym, while balancing a full time job and caring for my Mammaw. And she is seeing results.

We Talked About it, and We Did It

2009-07-27T10:10:00.005-05:00

Some people just have a gift for saying memorable things. One of those people is my good friend, Cindy Dupree. Hardly a day goes by that I don't quote her in one way or another. She has unbelievable stories, funny quips, and she has mottos. One of my favorites is, "You can sleep when you're dead." Another is "Once you've seen one sunrise, you've seen em' all." She truly has a supernatural energy when it comes to making the most of life. We have been to Paris together, met lots of famous writers, politicians, actors, and singers, sat on the front row of incredible Broadway shows and shared laughs and tears. But this blog isn't really about her, she just gave me the title, and she didn't even know it.

When it comes to good ideas, sometimes it seems like they're a dime a dozen. I find that what makes a good idea really a good idea lies in the follow through. In other words, at some very important point, you've got to quit just talking about a particular thing and do it. So that's what we did this weekend.

You've heard me talk about our new business quite a bit over the past few months. And the talking is important, don't get me wrong, but we got to sweat a little bit, well, a lot, at our sale this weekend and the weeks leading up to it, and it paid off.

With a little help from some great friends and family, I can honestly say that Amanda and I exceeded our financial goal, learned a great deal, and had some fun, essentially playing store in our den and dining room this past Saturday.

It was the grand opening event of our new online store called awaken. http://shopawaken.etsy.com.

I guess it all started some months ago after we had both read "Rich Dad Poor Dad" and were trying to come up with a business idea. From there, we had a few false starts, but finally agreed on something we could both get excited about... something we already did. We take what other people might think is useless, and make it into something valuable.

So the morning of the event, we are set to open our doors at 10:00.

9:03, I am on the phone, trying to find someone who could custom cut a mirror for the frame that sat empty, leaning against a corner in our otherwise finished showroom/den. I have called every glass cutter in Murfreesboro only to confirm that they are all closed on Saturdays. Finally, I found someone who could do it in time. Thank you, Farrar Brothers Ace Hardware. The very tattooed glass cutter there had a scrap piece of mirror that could be discounted and would fit perfectly into my frame after just a few cuts. Great!

9:36, I'm tightening the last screw to secure the prized mirror into the frame and hear a quiet but horribly ominous crack. I say a few words that I later had to ask forgiveness for, and we begin the process all over again. Since I still have signs to hang, Momma and Poppa B offer to go get the replacement mirror, which, will cost twice as much because there is no other scrap large enough to fit my frame.

9:59 I, oh so gently, tighten the final screw on the new mirror and the doors open to welcome our first customers.

10:02 Thank the Lord for family and home folks. Dennis and Susan Chambers were up from Arab, and Amanda's amazingly talented Uncle Norris (norrishallstudio.com) and his wife, Linda followed close behind them. The day progressed and we welcomed customers that were not even related to us, they bought things, got receipts with our new logo, ate Basil Cheddar Ham Biscuits, homemade mini blueberry muffins, and drank fresh peach Bellinis. It was all we hoped it would be.

Here are Ashley and Steph modeling with some of our merchandise. The mirror I mentioned is pictured in the background here, and in close detail at the top of the page. It is one of the few pieces still available for 125.

We talked about it, and we did it.

These are a few of my favorite kids

2009-07-27T08:32:00.016-05:00

In the last few weeks, we have gotten to spend some summer days and nights with a few of our favorite people, not the least of which have been kids. I have to share a couple of the photos, and I must say that this is by no means all of our favorite kids, just the ones who happened to be mugging for my iPhone on the last roll.

We love to have company. There is something about having overnight guests that takes me back to the excitement of packing my little red white and blue flowered or "flair-dy" as we said it, suitcase and going across town to have a "spend the night party" with friends as a kid. It's better than just spending casual time together, because when you have all talked and laughed until you can hardly keep your eyes open a second longer, then you wake up and share your morning ritual with your sleepy headed friends, you get closer, more like family. Last weekend we got to host two groups of great friends. Among them were Bryan and Ashley Johnson. This is Bryan (his blog, http://abryanphoto.blogspot.com/, has some of the coolest photography you will ever see) reading to his boys, Gavin on the left, and Noah on the right. It doesn't get much sweeter than that.

Well, OK, maybe a little. This is Stephanie Kling (she has an amazing crafting blog, http://birdsandtrees.typepad.com, that helped inspire me to start my blog) holding her nephew Tripp Sommerville. They, along with Steph's husband James, and Tripp's Mom and Dad, Emily and Nelson, were our other group of weekend sleepover friends.

Here are our African friends doing their thang. When they sing and dance, God's grace is everywhere. It is so cool. If you pray, pray for them. They have so many things to learn and so many cultural changes to adjust to, but as you can see, they are still singing!

It may not look like there is a kid in this picture to you, but to me, the good looking guy who outweighs me by thirty pounds or so and is almost a foot taller than me on the left, will always be my little nephew Blake, or Blako Beam. He turned 17 this month and that makes my head spin. I will never forget the moment when my teary eyed brother, Steve, walked out of the delivery room in his yellow disposable hospital apron holding each one of his three kids. Blake is sitting by his Mammaw, the first lady of Arab, Alabama, and my pretty Mamma, Olethia, at the big horse show at the city park where I was bringing home the bacon playing the organ.

This is little Miss Isabella Hardison. We spent a fun evening at the Uncle Dave Macon Days folk music and arts festival a few weeks ago with her sister, Georgia, and their Mom and Dad, Mark and Ashley. If she didn't already have me tightly wound around her little finger, she sealed the deal that night. What is it about a kid's affection that makes us so happy!? I'm a sucker for it. She sat there in my lap while we watched the freestyle buck dancing and clogging competition and we both ate up every knee slappin', banjo pickin', foot stompin' minute of it.

If you do not have kids in your life, I'm sorry. If you do, please don't beat them in the Wal-Mart check out line or yell at them in public. It makes you look so stupid, and they are smarter than you think. I know, it's easier for me because I can usually send them home with their parents when they misbehave, but still, come on people. Lord, please grant us all wisdom and grace when it comes to caring for our most precious gift, your children.

New awaken photos

2009-07-24T11:12:00.010-05:00

The big day is tomorrow! Here are some more photos of what we will have for sale at our grand opening event for our new online home store called awaken. Our den has been changed into a furniture and accessories showroom, and our dining room, a contemporary art gallery.

We will begin at 10:00am and finish at 3:00. Any of you who are in the middle Tennessee area who would like to see first hand what we have to offer, stop by at 320 E. College St. We are just off the square behind the Episcopal Church.

Leaf stencil set on cedar planks. 50.

Maple leaf clock sconce. 65.

Giant framed mirror. 165.

Black and white contemporary art. 35.

Thanks Christina Stiefel for our cool new logo!

Awaken!

2009-07-15T13:52:00.007-05:00

I have mentioned in this blog that Amanda and I have a new business based on our belief in redemption, or giving new life to old things. In other words, we are "Awaken" -ing the potential in wood from old fences, Mamaw's old furniture, thrift store and yard sale treasures, whatever we find that needs a new lease on life. We are planning an event to kick off what will be our online business called Awaken. You will soon be able to shop for furniture, art, lighting, and handmade accessories, all custom, one of a kind, by Amanda and I, and inspired by products you would expect to find in stores like Anthropology, At Home, and Pottery Barn.

The grand opening event will be at our home in Murfreesboro, Tennessee on Saturday, July 25th. Basically, we are transforming the front rooms in our house into a temporary showroom where our sale items will be priced and available for purchase.

Here are a few of the things that we plan to offer.
Black and White Retro Rocker. Our friend Patrick at Patrick's Upholstery in Arab did a jam up job giving new life to several things for us. Amanda found this sixties mod glider at a Murfreesboro yard sale and picked out the cool, clean, off white linen fabric for it.

Over sized Turquoise, Brown and White Cherry Blossom Branch and Bird art with cedar fence frame, 5ft 7in x 3ft including frame. I painted this simple piece with the huge frame in mind. I made it from a cedar plank fence that my dad had torn down a few years ago.

Retro lamp with hand painted shade. This lamp was just crying out for some new wiring, paint, and a shade at the thrift store where I found it. I saw the pattern I painted onto the shade in one of Amanda's Domino magazines. There are some little pink birdies in there if you look closely.

Antique white mirrored wardrobe. This was our find of the day when we went to the five hundred mile yard sale after the Strawberry Festival in Springfield, Tennessee a few months ago. We gave it the bright bird's egg blue interior and a fresh, weathered white exterior.

White wire tea light candelabra and plant stand on farmhouse table. These wire pieces were also from the Strawberry Festival day. I made the table they are sitting on and will post more photos later.

I look forward to your input and hope to see you at our house Saturday the 25th of this month!

Beef Bulletin

2009-07-15T12:53:00.003-05:00

Here is our cow. He is the black one in the middle, walking along in his grassy field, celebrating Independence Day in my parent's pasture. Today he is in the cooler at Weaver's Meat Processing in Hartselle, AL. In two weeks he will be in my freezer.

We are experimenting with him. Locally grown, grass finished beef is near impossible to find unless you are near a big city, and even when you do find it, it is outrageously expensive. So one day, my wife, Amanda said, "Wait a minute, aren't there a bunch of cows in your Dad's pasture?" And that got us to thinking.

There are all kinds of benefits to consuming beef this way. First, your money is going to someone you know, leaving out all the middle men who would most likely be getting that meat from all the way down in Mexico. Second, grass finishing beef eliminates a great deal of cortisol, or the bad cholesterol that is caused from the stress that the final part of a feedlot cow's life brings on. In addition, grass is a more natural and healthy diet for the cow than the feed that is designed to fatten the cow in the months it is confined before slaughter. (In the best cases that feed is a mostly corn diet, but it can often consist of dead chickens mixed with poo, and even parts of other cows. A healthier cow, to me, logically translates into healthier meat, and a healthier me.

When he makes his way onto our table, I will post more info to let you know prices and how the meat tastes. If all goes well, we will be offering more cows available for you to purchase at a much lower rate than you would be getting at Whole Paycheck, I mean Whole Foods.

Dad's farm is at 734 Copeland Road in Arab, Alabama, and his cows, though not "certified organic" are all natural, organic. The pasture is pesticide free, the cows are free range, and they are not fed hormones or anything else that could potentially contribute to early puberty in girls, cancer, or extra limbs caused by mutant Mexican A-Rod steroid steaks.

Our Lake Adventure

2009-07-05T09:58:00.006-05:00

This was a weekend full of huge adventure, family, food, music, fireworks, and fun. At some later point I might have some wisdom, (and more pics) to offer to inspire, uplift and amuse, but for now, here are some pictures from our time on Guntersville Lake with the our dear friends the Phillips and the Scotts.

Amanda B. and Amanda P. were perfectly cool aboard the inflated float of wild speedboat fury, but I think our sadistic chauffeur, Brian, took it a little easier on them than on us guys.

Christopher more than held his own on the crazy float while Brian hot dogged that boat like he was at the water version of the Indy 500.

After eating several gallons of lake water, I really had an awesome time.

Lynne said that, among many other things, "her boys" Jacob and Adam, could stand up on the moving float, and that sounded way too much like a challenge for me to pass up.

Somehow we missed getting pictures of everybody, but Jacob's sweet fiance, Mallory, also came along for the adventure. We packed a lake picnic which we all enjoyed while hundreds of tiny bats entertained us as if on cue at sunset at the "Bat Cave." This is a well kept local secret and I think the Scotts and all the lake dwellers around there wouldn't mind keeping it that way. This place is truly breath taking. Surrounded by rolling hills and gracious southern charm, Guntersville Lake is a hidden jewel in the middle of Marshall County, Alabama.

Chocolate Cake Recipe

2009-06-21T18:47:00.004-05:00

Some of you have asked for this recipe, so here it is. It is the cake my Mamma made for Amanda's birthday and it is SO good. I'm calling it Mamma's, but in her recipe book it's called Dianna's Chocolate Sheet Cake. My Mamma has been making it long enough that I think she can claim it now. Plus, she made it with dark chocolate this time, so she changed it a bit. In her favorite cooking notebook, this recipe is hand written and covered with splashes of batter and twenty years of cooking.

Olethia's Buttermilk Chocolate Cake

Sift together 2 cups sugar and two cups self-rising flour and set aside.

Then bring to boil 1 stick butter, 1/2 cup vegetable oil, 5 Tbsp. dark cocoa, 1 cup water.

Pour over sugar and flour mixture.

Beat 2 eggs, 1/2 tsp. baking soda, 1 tsp. vanilla, 1/2 cup buttermilk.

Pour this into other mixture.

Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.

Icing:

Boil 1 stick butter, 6 Tbsp. buttermilk, 5 Tbsp. dark cocoa

Add 1 box confectioner's sugar, 1 tsp. vanilla, and 1 cup chopped pecans.

Pour over cake right out of oven, and careful not to swallow your tongue.

Amanda's Wedding Birthday Party

2009-06-21T08:59:00.005-05:00

We have a weakness at my house. We can't resist the themed party temptation. We spend days planning, weeks really, we make fancy foods, we wear costumes, put up decorations, change out light bulbs, make special party play lists, and do so while putting off other less exiting responsibilities.

The Birthday Brides and Bride's maid.

The Grooms. Evan (top left) thought we said welding party, not wedding party. Ha Ha!

Why? I think it fits perfectly into our philosophy that relationships are the most important things in life. We laugh, dance, confess, brag, we might even cry, and we clean up the aftermath, eventually to do it all over again, hopefully sooner than later.

The Cake

So is it a waste of money? Do we worry what the neighbors will think when they see bubbles floating out our front windows, a strobe light flashing from our dining room window, or people pouring out of cars in outlandish get-ups? Not a chance.

My Review of "East of Eden"

2009-06-15T11:07:00.005-05:00

The early 1900's California country side in graphic detail, painfully difficult father-son relationships, whores, deep moral questions, scripture translated into Hebrew, a really wise Chinese guy who shares a mysterious liquor that tastes like good rotten apples, what more could you ask for? This is the kind of book that inspires mourning when the final pages arrive.

From the first descriptions of California's Salinas Valley, I was riveted to John Steinbeck's East of Eden. It is a page turner with meat. It is like a twelve course meal shared with friends that lasts and lasts, but doesn't leave you feeling too full.

The story picks up early in the life of Adam Trask and follows him through two turbulent, but ultimately satisfying generations. The perspective that ran as a theme throughout is really a moral question that is ultimately answered in Holy scripture. They don't call em' classics for nothing!

I found myself inspired on a spiritual level in addition to simply falling in love with the broad spectrum of realistically flawed characters. Thanks, Annie Thomas, for the recommendation. You've never let me down.

Our Trip to Bama

2009-06-13T14:09:00.008-05:00

It is always cool when work takes me back home and we sneak in an unexpected visit. I like holidays, but my favorite times are just the ordinary days like today. Amanda used her birthday money to buy a new camera, so here are a couple of the very first pics.

Ginny and I went for a swim. I was holding on tight to keep her from rushing the cows, (maybe one of her top five favorite activities in life.) Yesterday she caught a bunny. A real bunny. For a city dog, it doesn't get much better than a trip to Arab.

Here's lunch.

Mamma whipped up Amanda's favorite buttermilk chocolate cake, from scratch of course, then made sure all 29 candles were lit.

It was, hands down, the best yet of Amanda's birthday cakes. Not quite done in the middle, dark chocolate, pecans from the trees in the yard, hot right out of the oven, you know, perfect.

I was glad Mammaw felt like coming. She has been a true force to be reckoned with for her whole life. She still drives herself to dialysis after four years, but it has taken its toll. She knew Amanda and I were working on a new business, and she had several ideas to share. Her package for Amanda's birthday made it to the house a full two days before the day. If she's still breathing, her wheels are turning, considering ways she can help us grand kids.

We have big, fat, loud, and utterly delicious meals, mules, horses, cats, a new baby calf named Lloyd to bottle feed, enough fresh eggs to fill five Easter baskets, some laughs, some fights, but more love than you can shake a stick at. It's where I come from.

What You Gotta Do

2009-06-11T10:37:00.003-05:00

We have our strengths, we have our weaknesses. Sometimes we just have to work through our weaknesses just to get to our strengths.

Since about five o'clock last night, I have been performing a ritual. It involves lifting up couch cushions, crawling through dust bunnies on the floor, retracing steps, calling places I have been, visiting the gym, looking under the same stack of books and magazine's on my bedside table at least ten times until I finally gave up in utter dejection, picked up the top magazine to read it, and ended the ritual. It happens about once every two months or so with some regularity, yet it still holds this power over me, as if it is some kind of wicked punishment.

Today, it is the search for my wedding ring. This time, it was where I always put it, on my bedside table, it was just hiding under that top magazine. I imagine it to be buried in the back yard, mysteriously stolen, or maybe somehow blown into the outer limits of space into the black hole of lost rings, keys, driver's licenses, sunglasses, receipts, and one of my all time top lost things, my wallet.

As I frantically search, I go from extreme shame and self loathing to bitter blame, to hopefully, every now and then, somewhere in between, something like a healthy attitude. I tell myself, "It's a wonder you've kept up with this thing for five years!" And, "Don't panic, you've got a back up for just such times as this." But it doesn't help a great deal.

The disaster was averted, once again, this time. But this is a struggle that I have had since the year I lost three nice winter coats in one season as a kid. So, like the fact that I am so extremely confused by numbers that, hard as I try, I cannot calculate my score correctly in card games, or sometimes even count my reps at the gym, I must just keep plowing through the harder things in my life to get to the easy ones.

Nobody is good at everything, and I tend to think it best not to focus too much on your weaknesses. However, they have a way of showing up sometimes in places where they demand your attention.

So, full circle, you gotta do what you gotta do to get to do what you gotta do.

I gotta do my life in my own way. So I gotta put up with the fact that I'm gonna hit kinks, they are unavoidable. I just have to remind myself not to get too bent out of shape over the rough spots and soon enough I'll be flying again.

Our Four-legged Family

2009-05-31T09:15:00.009-05:00

Where in the world would we be without them? They make us laugh, they love us when no one else really notices, they help us get our exercise, calm us down, cheer us up, they guide us into better versions of our former selves, they fill our lives with meaning,.. OK, and some poop.

This is Image. He is a twenty-five year old Morgan gelding who belongs to my good friends. He is very fat, and he founders often. For you non horse people, that is a problem with the hooves that happens to fat, spoiled horses with some regularity, but if not taken care of, can be pretty serious. He gave my brother a job when he was a colt because he needed a little training. Come to think of it, he gave me a job a few times when I got to give him his water, oats and hay, when his mom and dad were out of town. The truth is, my family's long love affair with horses probably had more to do with bringing my dear friend's, his owners into my life than just about anything. Thanks Image.

This is Fred. He is a dog of extremes. The most obvious extreme is his size. Medium sized ponies are terrified of him. He can toot the foulest, sling the most slobber, eat the most rotisserie chickens, Vienna sausages, and jumbo dog treats, and snore the loudest of any dog I have ever known -by far.

That's Poo Bear eating a golden delicious. He just showed up one day with his mom and nobody had the heart to make him leave. I think that has a lot to do with his uncharacteristically furry face.

These are my dad's cows. Just looking at them gives me a sense of calm. They have the opposite effect on our dog, Ginny.

This is Ginny's friend, Lucy. She's kind of a tornado of affection and sweet Golden-doodle love.

This is Ginny and Amanda. They let me live with them. I can't begin to describe how much I love this picture and the two hot babes in it. They're my pin-up girls.

Just Imagine

2009-05-21T12:58:00.005-05:00

I've had a lot of creative energy lately. I've been working on everything from recording a new CD project, to restoring yard sale furniture to sell online, to writing this blog. I feel like I had about a four year period where creating felt more like a chore than anything else, and it sure feels good to remember what it feels like to be truly exited about a new idea, be it musical, or whatever.

The CD will be released in June, and it is swingin', instrumental, high energy, and full of my personality, if you like that kind of thing. It is the kind of music I want to put on when there's a group of friends over and you feel like dancing or just laughing and having a good time. Even though it is technically the music I play at horse shows, you don't have to be at a horse show to get it. I guess when I think about what I do at the shows, I'm really playing more for the people who don't know a canter from a cantaloupe than I am for the die hard horse crowd who might not know I was there if it weren't for the rare occasion that I have to get up for a bathroom break and they think "Hey why did it get so quiet and boring all of the sudden?"

What has changed? I think somehow I've just been listening better. Inspiration is everywhere if you can get outside of yourself long enough to experience it. (Now here is the part of the blog where I go on about how cool my church is.. you knew it was coming.) Christopher Phillips plays the piano at Christ Church among many other things. I know that God has opened up a new world of inspiration to me because I not only get to hear him play and listen to his awesome arrangements for the smokin' worship band and amazing choir, but he is my friend. So that means I get to ask him stuff like "What was that chord that made that totally hum drum hymn you played this morning sound so out-of-this-world fantastic?" and he just shows me. I love it.

I'll be writing more about this later, but Amanda and I have a new business that we feel really passionate about. It is based on our philosophy that you do not have to be rich to have a beautiful home. We are awakening the potential in pieces that were thought to be past their prime. I will keep you posted with pics and how you can get the cool one-of-a-kind tables, chairs, art, basically -Pottery Barn meets Anthropology but less expensive and all original.

So, that's what I'm up to. All of that with a headache seventy-five percent of the time. Just imagine what I'm gonna be doing when the Lord heals me of these flippin' things!

Headaches

2009-05-19T16:03:00.005-05:00

I have a LOT of headaches. One of them is happening right now. I'm not really sure what to do about it. I pray, take drugs, exercise, take naps, don't take naps, they get a little better, they get a lot worse, I don't understand. It sucks. They aren't migraines, they just feel like my skull is too small for everything in it. Sometimes I think how very easy it would be for me to become one of the millions addicted to prescription drugs, or non prescription drugs for that matter, or alcohol, or anything that would make me feel better.

So what do I do? Sometimes I get really mean and cynical. Mostly to my self and to my wife. It's my secret, but I'm telling. That does not help, but for some stupid reason I keep trying it -as if one day that will actually make something better. I avoid the very things that I have always said are the most important things in life, relationships. I don't return calls or emails unless they are absolutely necessary, and sometimes I even avoid those.

I've been to several Doc's, healing services, and gotten massages, but they've never completely gone away. It makes me so depressed. But when I start feeling too sorry for myself, I always think of something my Papaw Harold used to say. "You can always look around and find somebody "worse off" than you." I know I have shared that same quote before, but so far it is one of the best remedies I know for the droopy drawers brain that I am so prone to.

Do I lose my faith? A little every now and then. Somehow, thankfully, the Lord has bestowed enough faith on me to carry me through the times when I'm just thoroughly pissed off at everybody about everything.

Right now Nicole C. Mullen's voice is ringing in my ears singing "I know my redeemer lives." He lives. He is real. He changes my life daily. I do not have the power to do it on my own. Anything that you find encouraging about this blog can be attributed to our risen Savior.

If you have never encountered the one I am speaking of, come to Christ Church on Sunday morning. He is there. I know He's everywhere, but his Kingdom is so evident there. It is UN-deniable! From the music, to the testimonies, to the people you encounter in the parking lot, it's the real thing. And I am so thankful to be a part. Hey, my head feels better. I'm serious!

So right now, I must conclude that those headaches are there for a reason. I sure would like to learn whatever that reason is so I can get on to the next thing, but until then, I'm doing the best I can and trying to have a little grace and patience along the way.

The photos are from a weekend excursion to the Strawberry Festival in Portland, TN. You can see Ginny inspecting the torrential rain at the top, and the happy ending at the bottom, a little girl who decided to make the best of it.

Africa Has Come to Us

2009-05-17T09:10:00.008-05:00

John Senior, Thomas, and John Bosco

Last Sunday was a day to remember. Not only was it Mother's Day, but at our church, John Bosco, my African godson, was baptised, then watched his own father be baptised in the next moment. They were some of ten or so people who celebrated their commitment to Christ that day. I led the men from their Sunday School room where Rev. Jackie Stansfield had been expertly opening their minds to the gifts of the Spirit as Swahili and Nepali interpreters stood on either side of her, to the appropriate dressing room behind the huge sanctuary while the great Christ Church Choir belted out thunderous praise songs. I was sobbing as is often the case with me lately on Sunday mornings, but I was also happy, excited, and so thankful that God allowed me to be a part of this momentous day.

Amanda and I were invited to share a meal with this family and some of their friends afterward where we learned more about the struggle that has resulted in their presence in Nashville. It has been a week and it is still a little more than I can get my mind around. That day we found out what it feels like to be surrounded by people speaking a language which you have no knowlege of. We were the only ones of our kind in their warm apartment that was spilling over with people who told stories, thankfully interpreted into English for us, about the unbelievably painful atrocities being committed in Africa to this day, harrowing journeys through the African country, and one man's journey to Christ. We learned more about this culture that fosters story telling, singing, rhythm and dancing from an early age. Boy wouldn't I fit right in?!

Mothers with brightly colored dresses and head wraps explained that when we were told to eat, that refusal was not an option. That made me feel perfectly at home, as my Mammaw Nita Ann started force feeding me before I could walk, and she has never stopped.

We learned about the way a young African man has to prove that he is ready for marriage by building a house beside his father's house with his own hands. Then, once he has decided on the girl he chooses, he sends as many of his brothers or friends as he can persuade to, to wait for her in the bush and collect her, (one grabs legs, and one grabs head and arms and she is often screaming) then they bring her to his bedroom, where, in a violently romantic show of love, they are "married" if she doesn't get away first. I am not making this up.

It is then that man's responsibility to pay a cowry. That's the term I coined for the cows which cover the losses that the young bride's family has suffered if the marriage is agreed upon between families. Now if the marriage is not agreed upon, the strongest men from the bride's family get together with some large sticks and rocks and proceed to collect the bride away from the opposing tribe. Yeah. That's how they do it.

So my friend Lynne tells a story about me that once, while she was teaching us to pray that God would truly have his will in our lives, I said "But Lynne, If I do that, what if God decides to send me to Africa?" Well Africa has come to us. And I am so glad it did.

John Bosco is the one with the huge smile. Beside him is his brother, Claude, their Mother, who is so quiet that I'm not sure I ever got her name, and Father, John. The smallest boy is Mugisha. They are our family.

EC's War Story

2009-05-08T12:11:00.006-05:00

I just had a visit with my eighty-something year-old step grandfather, EC Cravens. If I'm really honest, I went because I felt a little guilty that I didn't visit last time I was in Arab, the town I grew up in. My visit with him was like every interaction I've ever had with him, it left me thinking what a cool old dude he is, and that one day I hope I have some stories that are half as good as his.

I will first give a little history about EC. My family first came to know him when my Mammaw, Mrs. Arizona Beam, casually announced that she was leaving in two weeks for a drive to Wyoming with her new "feller," who none of us had met, and, by the way, they were getting married. Now my Papaw, Hoyle Beam, a stern but good hearted man, died of a heart attack in 1980, so I barely remember him. After some time Mammaw found a group of girlfriends and began to emerge from her cocoon of mourning as a youthful, energetic, dancing machine. She went from withdrawn mother of seven to working single hottie in about a five year period. It didn't take long for her to find company with CB, her first boyfriend since Papaw. They had regular Thursday night dancing date night until cancer took CB away. Then came John, who didn't last as long as CB. I think it was a heart attack or a stroke that took him out.

So, with due respect to all involved, about the time the last shovel of dirt covered John, apparently EC was down on one knee, ready to seal the deal. He wisely figured that there was no time to waste. I don't blame him one bit, because they have been together for seven happy years now.

Since I have known him, EC has had a full head of fluffy white hair, a quick smile, and speech that is generously peppered with four letter words, but somehow, he never seems too foul. His southern drawl has an appealing resonance, and his unassuming, plain spoken manner leaves plenty of room for surprises. Every time I sit down with EC, I find out something I didn't know before. For instance, once I found out that he used to run moonshine. Then he was a race truck driver. Yea, that's what I meant to say, a race truck driver. He was actually in the movie, Smokey and the Bandit driving his huge truck.

The interaction with him that changed our financial life exponentially happened when EC convinced his sister, Geneva Jackson, (our dog Ginny Jackson's namesake) to sell Amanda and I our first house for what turned out to be the bargain of a lifetime. Even though we could barely make the payments for the ten or so months that we owned the house, we were so glad that we did, for we were dumbfounded when a big developer from Atlanta offered to buy the house from us at an unbelievable profit at the peak of the real estate market bubble.

Besides learning about his longstanding friendship with Alabama's current Governor, Bob Riley, today, I found out that he fought in World War II. This was one story he was a bit reluctant to tell. I asked him what he remembered about the War, and at first he said "I don't want to remember." But soon he reverently recalled the night he spent in a building that had been bombed by a German tank during the Battle of the Bulge, the single biggest and bloodiest battle in US history according to Wikipedia.

"The first group of men they sent in were all killed," he said. "But they went ahead and sent us on in after that." He and his entire group of infantry men survived after he noticed a German tank repositioning and they followed his suggestion to go down to the basement for cover.

I write this to say, if there is someone in your life from that Greatest Generation, do not overlook them. They have been there. And there is so much to learn by just sitting and listening as they unpack their life's treasure chest of experience.

Do this! Go visit and force yourself to just listen with no agenda other than to hear what they have to say. Be patient, and you are guaranteed to find something worthwhile. You will both be better for it.

Why Do I Write?

2009-05-05T14:10:00.009-05:00

Do I write to see if I can say the funniest thing about the swine flu? Partly. Do I write because I like to make people cry? Yes, partly. Is it so people will like me? Maybe a little. So maybe I'll be a famous writer one day? Yea right. OK, maybe that too, a little. I think I write mostly because I believe God gave me a lot to say and my sweet Amanda can only listen to so much without going to sleep eventually.

Well, maybe I've survived the swine flu pandemic this far because I have something important to say or do or be. Some days I think I have an idea as to what those "somethings" are, but most days I'm just doing my thing. Playing music, taking some piece of junk and attempting to work it into something of value, cooking, eating, laughing, cleaning, loving, complaining, and hopefully encouraging.

One big reason I write is because my wife told me to. Come to think of it, that's the reason I do just about everything! She's just as smart as she is pretty.

Maybe the point of this is to encourage you to ask yourself why you do what you do. I want to get on the offensive side of my life instead of just reacting to things going on around me. I want to realize all the choices that are available to me and not just settle for the first thing that comes along, or just fall in line with whatever is popular.

My friend Amanda Phillips' dad, Pastor Phil Goldsberry, spoke at church on Sunday and something he said rang a bell. It was "We should not be so much a part of our culture that we fit in without thinking."

I am afraid I work pretty hard to fit in sometimes, when we were never intended to blend in seamlessly with unbelievers. Now I have naturally stuck out most of my life just because that is the way God made me, but not always because of some defining christian value that set me apart. More likely it was because I was sitting at my desk in school and figured out a way to get my hair to stand straight up and make everybody laugh. Not that there isn't a perfectly good reason to do something like that, but I don't think that is the way we are necessarily supposed to be "set apart."

Why do you do what you do? What sets you apart? How did you get to be who you are? Those are a few of the reasons I write. I'm trying to figure this whole thing out. And I'm trying to find as many people as I can to jump in with me and start living like we are dieing. Thank you Tim McGraw.

I want to leave a mark, and I'd rather do it on purpose. The people who make a difference do not do so accidentally for the most part. I want to remind myself that I can roar if I choose to. I want to use all the colors in my life's painting, and I want to encourage you to do the same.

Believe it or not, the photos aren't Ruby Falls, they are from our trip to New York City. This is actually a spring that flows in the middle of Chelsea Market.

Sunday/My Review of Traveling Mercies

2009-05-03T18:40:00.005-05:00

It is raining outside and it is Sunday. I have that familiar melancholy feeling that is particular to Sundays. It has been raining all day. We got up, had breakfast, an almond butter, banana and honey sandwich on Amanda's homemade bread, coffee, went to church, came home, ate lunch, a pan seared chicken breast on arugula with blue cheese, walnuts, and Balsamic vinaigrette, went to sleep for about two hours, got up, ate dinner, chicken on brown rice with bacon and green beans, then turned on 60 Minutes. I left out three Lindt dark chocolate truffles (maybe four but who's counting) for dessert after lunch, and a Stockyard oatmeal stout with supper. Throw in some twitter and Facebook checks, and that's my Sunday so far. I also picked some pink peonies and put them in a vase on the coffee table. They smell like heaven.

Every time I look out the rain is still coming down. Sometimes hard, sometimes soft, but always coming down.

I finished Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies while we were in the northeast over the past week. I recommend it for anybody who can appreciate a real Christian's bone honest struggle through addiction, parents, real life, real problems. It has caused me to take an honest look at what I write and ask myself if I am willing to be that honest. Am I willing to really share my truest self the way she does in this book? I'm telling you, it's raw.

Those of us who grew up in the church learned early the way we speak in church, or to people who we know to be Christians. We know the way we speak around our peers at school and what we can get away with around our Papaw who just doesn't give a damn, our Daddy, our Mamma, and certain cousins. One gets the feeling reading Anne's book that she did not pick up that habit. She just lets it fly.

I'm not saying that I want to develop my foul language skills to her level, but there is something so irresistibly appealing about someone who functions so freely outside the confines other's expectations. I have to admit, in my life there have been so many times when I have failed miserably at this. Maybe that's why her writing appeals to me so much.

Sometimes it feels like our "Christian walk" is nothing more than a weak set of rules that should be adhered to around certain people at certain times. I have no desire to be that kind of Christian. I want to be transformed by the renewing of my mind! Sure, I want to be kind, and aware of others' sensibilities, but I refuse to be a slave to them.

By adjusting my persona to fit my company, really, who am I fooling? I'm not even fooling myself! Much less anybody else, and least of all God. So for a healthy dose of good humor, a heartfelt search for God, and a lot of practical wisdom, read Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies.

Coming Down

2009-05-01T12:27:00.012-05:00

We just spent a week up north with what had to be some of the nicest Yankees I've ever met. Whoever said that southerners had the "gracious host" market cornered never went to West Springfield Massachusetts for a Horseshow. After that, we met our good friends James and Stephanie in the big city where we ate and shopped ourselves silly.

We also got to see some of Amanda's family, and a few old friends, but there is never enough time to see everyone I'd like to see.

It is always good to come home, but with two days of clouds and rain, I'm feeling a little like Christmas is over, it's raining, and all I got was a crummy used sled.

Here are some photos of our trip if you are, like me, sitting inside wishing for sun.

We stayed on West 45th between 5th and 6th so we were very close to Bryant Park. It was as beautiful as ever in full bloom; so it made a perfect backdrop for my sweetie!

We visited this church on the lower east side to pray and admire its beauty after we walked by these pretty, pink flowering trees on its front lawn. There was a plaque inside in memory of an older woman who perished on the Titanic when she gave up her place on the last lifeboat for a young lady who had children to care for back home. We all stood in awe as we thought about her amazingly selfless sacrifice.

At the Chelsea Market, we were able to combine two of our favorite activities: shopping and food. The selection of produce and foods from every corner of the world is seemingly endless and gorgeous.

I've always said that travel is the best education. It can open up new avenues of thought that you never saw before, and clean out some of the old cobwebs that happen when you stay in one place for too long. At least it is that way for me. It helps to remind me that we are only a tiny part of a much bigger picture, which is good for someone who can get more self absorbed than Melissa Rivers on her last Apprentice challenge.

Who Said Work Couldn't be Fun?

2009-04-25T09:57:00.005-05:00

Last night began with a quick show that was finished before nine-o'clock. Then came the party! In an elegant but not stuffy ballroom Amanda and I danced like nobody was watching until we looked like the Biggest Losers after last chance workout. We had delicious food, plenty of drinks, and we all boogied the night away to a hot dance band complete with live brass, fantastic singers, and enough fire to set off three smoke alarms. Even the little kids were dancing! It was the most fun I've had at an exhibitor's party since I was five years old in Decatur, AL and I peed in my pants to avoid having to leave the sawdust dance floor.

This morning, I could have just stayed in bed but Amanda had a plan. We headed out at about 8:45 to the little German bakery, then went to this picturesque park. Norman Rockwell could not have painted a prettier park. We jogged, did some push-ups, found some perfect monkey bars for pull-ups, did lunges, squats, jumps, and found all sorts of ways to sweat off a few of last night's bacon wrapped scallops.

Now it's time to squeeze some work into what has felt a lot like a vacation. I have two sessions to play for today and then we leave for NYC. Who said work couldn't be fun?

Horsin' Around

2009-04-24T08:46:00.006-05:00

For the past few days Amanda and I have been in West Springfield, Massachusetts where I am playing music for the UPHA-14 Spring Premier Horseshow. I'm still getting used to my new Yamaha keyboard so the first day was a little stressful, but now I have found my groove and am rockin' with the rhythm of hoof beats.

The Eastern States Exposition Center is a beautiful old brick coliseum on a compound of sorts, surrounded by replicas of many of the eastern states' capitol buildings. The horses' stable areas are immaculately clean and decorated with colorful banners, curtains, brass lanterns, fountains, plants and huge glossy photographs of stunningly beautiful American Saddlebred, Morgan, and Frisian horses. Since this is one of the first shows of the season, everyone seems exited to be here and see friends after a winter's season back home.

The familiar smell of hay and the sounds of horses' pawing and clip clopping on black top is a powerful memory that always transports me to a carefree time when I was a kid hanging out at the stables with my Mammaw and Papaw. I guess we all return to what is familiar in one way or another. Even though my saddle is an organ bench now, I get to ride along vicariously while helping to create the festive mood that makes for a great horseshow.

I'm writing this to remind myself that I'm a lucky dog; and when I've been sitting there for umpteen hours trying to think of another good song appropriate for a little girl named Suzy to show Star's Big Something-or-other to, that I'm just carrying on an old family tradition. And I am thankful for the opportunity.

A Tragic Love Story

2009-04-20T08:05:00.005-05:00

I do not have much to offer today. But I will give a little window to what happens to be swimming around in my head right now.

Spring, you remind me of my first girlfriend. You showed up on what had been a cold winter day when I was really needing someone like you. That was back in February. Right after Valentine's Day to make matters worse. You winked and flirted and promised you'd never leave... then pbpblt! You were gone. Every time you come back I forget how much your previous exit wounded me and I am in love all over again.

Spring... come back and stay you fickle whore!!!

Our Cow Adventure

2009-04-12T09:08:00.006-05:00

This is the cow we picked out to be our dinner for two or three nights a week for the next year. We like his white face. He will not spend his last days in a feed lot ankle deep in his own waste like most of the cows who end up at Kroger. He will not be fed parts of other cows, inadvertently becoming a cow-nibal. He won't be fed growth hormones, or be be shipped from Mexico where we are cautioned not to drink the water. If the water in Mexico isn't safe for human consumption, then what do you think Mexican cows have been drinking? Jose Quervo? It would probably be safer!

No, I'm afraid we are the ones who have been drinking too much. Or something. Something has convinced us that our startlingly red beef magically appears on the grocery store shelf. You don't believe me? Well take your average kid to a farm and point to a pair of sweet, furry cow eyes and say "There's your next burger" then watch the horrified look come across his innocent little face. He'll think you are at a petting zoo. We are totally disconnected from the process by which our food arrives on our plate; and that is, I believe, one foundation of the health epidemic we are experiencing in the USA, especially in the southeast.

The more information we have, the better decisions we can make. I stole that from Oprah. (She still says a few things that are worth listening to.) For instance, if you knew you could buy an entire grass finished cow from a source you knew, at a reasonable price, and that the meat from that cow would be considerably better for you, might even taste better, and would certainly be better for the environment, would you want to do that? We decided to do just that.

The cow in the photo belongs to my dad right now and lives in his organically fertilized pasture. He eats grass mostly. His diet is supplemented in the winter months by hay, which is grass, just the winter version. This is by far the healthiest diet for him. And it results in much healthier meat for us. Grass finished beef is naturally higher in Omega 3 fatty acids and lower in saturated fat than corn fed or feedlot beef. And because he lives a less stressful life, his meat will contain less cortisol, or the stuff that makes you have a fat belly. (Besides the Krispy Kremes and BBQ potato chips.)

I believe the upcoming generation must begin to think differently about the food we choose to eat. There are healthier, tastier, and more responsible ways get our food. Our culinary culture is lazy at best, and downright trashy at worst. Think before you eat!

This is the first time Amanda and I have ever done anything like this. Although, I remember my parents having some of our own beef and pork slaughtered and butchered when I was a young kid. And it's funny, when I look at pictures from back then, most everybody was about thirty to fifty pounds lighter than they are today. I will continue to post the progress of our cow adventure.

Disclaimer: To all who were planning a trip to Kroger to buy some BBQ potato chips and Krispy Kreme Donuts, I apologise, but admit it, you are not helping the situation.

Relevence

2009-04-07T10:45:00.004-05:00

What does it mean to be relevant? Current, with the program, in the know, hip, cool, edgy? Right now, to me, it means that you are able to be taken seriously. That people do not write you off before you get to what it is you are trying to say... you with me?

Apparently, the Buick was once relevant. It wasn't when I was a kid. I was kind of embarrassed when my Mamma and Dad bought a blue and white Buick with Navy blue velour seats. That was in the eighties. Kids now have never even heard of a Buick. That's what happens when you fail to be relevant. Just ask Rick Wagoner, ex CEO of General Motors. Or the folks at the Rocky Mountain News. You'll make news if you don't stay relevant, it just might not be the kind you were trying to make.

I'm going to borrow my pastor, Dan Scott's soap box for just a second here and say that there are many modern churches that have confused plain old ignorance with being a proper Christian. I, along with Dan, reject that idea. If we continue to insist that the world is flat just because that is what we grew up hearing and that "round" nonsense just makes us uncomfortable, then that means we are stupid.

Now, being one who has, for many years, complained about the new praise chorus' lack of depth and melodic content, I am guilty of throwing out the baby with the bathwater when it comes to being aware of what is current in church worship music. I'm working on that. Maybe it would be more accurate to say God is working on me about that.

The point I am trying to make is that it is entirely possible to show great respect for our parents, and grandparents customs while responding to the world around us. If we do not, we will certainly go the way of the Buick. The world will go right on without our voice. Without our contribution. Without salt!

If I have ever heard this particular idea preached in church before, I am struggling to remember it. And I have been in a lot of church services. If you count fifty-two Sundays in a year, not even counting Sunday nights, Wednesday nights and revivals, over thirty-five years.. OK, knock off five cause I got "saved" when I was six so let's say that was when I started listening, that's around eighteen-hundred and twenty sermons I've heard, and this new idea comes along that proclaims it is not just OK to be "with it," that it may even be important! Dang. He's a dad gum revolutionary y'all!

This is loosely based on a sermon Dan preached a few weeks ago called "Leaving a Legacy." You can hear it or even watch it at http://christchurchnashville.org. You'll find it under sermons. If you are willing to do that though, I'm probably not really talking to you. Still, do it. You won't be sorry.

Daniel Smith

2009-04-05T09:27:00.003-05:00

This week I had the disturbing experience of finding out a friend died by reading through the comments on an old photo. I experienced an emotional flood of shock (he was only 34), guilt that I hadn't made a better effort to keep in touch, and pain over what seems so unfair.

After reading his blog, patdanielsmith.blogspot.com, what I knew of Daniel became even more apparent. This is a funny, strong, wise, and faithful man who kept his focus on Jesus till the very end... and God did not heal him. There are so many who rock along through life never giving a thought to the eternal and it seems like they can't do anything wrong!

Mouth cancer. Didn't smoke, didn't dip, ran marathons and paid close attention to everything he ate. If this doesn't cause you to do a double take, I don't know what will.

It wasn't that long ago that we were on stage together cracking each other up at Dollywood just having a ball, and now he is gone. If I could have known this was coming and told him then to do something different, what would it have been? No idea.

I don't know why, but something about Holy Week usually renders me an emotional time bomb, and this is no exception. I'm getting ready to go to church right now. I pray that God will open my mind to allow his wisdom to permeate my own and supersede my doubts and fear.

If Daniel could speak to us now, I wonder what he would say? He has seen heaven. It's real. Life is fleeting, get it right!

Aunt Violet

2009-03-29T10:35:00.005-05:00

I am going to my great aunt Violet's 75th Birthday Party this afternoon. She is my Papaw Harold's sister. When I was a kid, she was one of the people around me who just "got it." She let me sit in her lap and play the organ at her house. I remember her frequent laugh, her fancy house, and that she taught me what she referred to as "chording" which is the foundation of the way that most professional musicians notate and play music in Nashville, where I live.

I remember that she basically said to me "This is easy and you can do it!" We do not see each other very often, but when we do it is like a timeless friendship that easily picks up right where it left off. Now, her smile is the nearest thing I have to remind me of my Papaw besides pictures. I keep going back to that smile I think because it is so powerful. It is as if there is a boundless fount of encouragement and fun behind it. It truly has an energy of its own.

In a sea of people who seem eager to point out the difficult turns ahead, or to mourn the rocky past, I pray that I can be that kind of person. I want to pass along the secrets she taught me about music, but more about the positive jolt of joy and passion that comes from a heartfelt smile.

Thank you Aunt Violet!

A Little Perspective

2009-03-27T12:22:00.008-05:00

I gained a little perspective about what it is like to be an immigrant this week. On Saturday, I was honored to play the piano for the funeral of Krishna Kumar Rai. He fled to this country from Nepal where he had lived for many years in a refugee camp. His mother became a Christian when she heard the Gospel of Christ from a missionary there. Since moving to this country, many refugees like him from the apartment complex where he lived have been coming to Christ Church to worship and take free English classes.

Krishna was overcome by his difficult circumstances, and in a moment of profound misery, took his own life. Nepali, Indian and African people are just some of the many who came from all over Nashville and the Southeast United States to join in mourning this family's loss.

As different speakers addressed the grieving congregation of Hindus, Muslims, and Evangelical Christians, there was a great sense of hope if you can imagine that in such horrific circumstances. We were reminded of our connectedness as children of God, we were reminded that we are united in grief, and we were reminded that whatever your definition of home on earth may be, it is only a passing vision when compared to eternity.

There were some interruptions, awkward moments, false starts, misunderstandings, misinterpretations and failures to meet expectations; but I believe this was a snapshot of what the gospel tells us to do when we are instructed to bear one another's burdens. We may have done it clumsily, but we did it.

A few steps away from the resting place of one of gospel music's greatest "stars", Vestal Goodman, Pastor Dan Scott sang the Lord's prayer, we joined to sing Amazing Grace, Blessed Assurance, and listened to Nepali people sing, in their own language, praises to our risen Savior as Krishna was buried in a casket provided by the generosity of Christ Church, in a plot that I'm sure his family could not afford. We stood there until the last shovel of fresh red earth covered Krishna's grave beside a gently flowing stream, while white spring blooms rained down their snowy petals as if to add to the tears that were already being shed for this young man.

I am still trying to figure out what it all means, but right now it mainly makes me feel more sympathetic toward people who have a different background, and who face unique challenges that I cannot understand. It also makes me thankful for a place like Christ Church where we hear the gospel preached in genuine love as closely to the way I imagine Jesus himself preached it as I have ever heard. You can watch our services live on Sunday mornings, or watch past services anytime by going to http://christchurchnashville.org and clicking on sermons.

What's In It For Me?

2009-03-19T12:58:00.003-05:00

If you look at my reading list, you'll see that I'm reading Robert Kiyosaki's "Rich Dad Poor Dad". Anybody who is at all into the latest financial best sellers has probably read this already. But if you are like me and you still haven't read it, there are some challenging ideas in there for anyone who thinks the best way to make money is to find a good job with benefits and work hard.

Among those challenging views, Kiyosaki proposes that greed, in moderation, can be the perfect antidote for laziness. He says "whenever you find yourself avoiding something you know you should be doing, then the only thing to ask yourself is: 'What's in it for me?'"

I don't know about you, but as a Christian and polite southerner, that little phrase just doesn't feel very sweet, or Christian. I believe, however that those wonderful values we grew up on can sometimes get in the way of us acting in our own best interest. We put others first to a fault so much that we do not reach our own full potential, therefore shortchanging our ability to bless to others.

Maybe you are contemplating whether or not to volunteer at church. Maybe it is that you can't find the motivation to make your health a priority. If "what's in it for you" means you are more like the person God called you to be, or that you will feel strong and healthy, and look like the sexy beast/beastess that is hiding under those winter layers of fat, then by all means... grab a little sump'm fo yo OWN sef!

In the photo you see on the left, my Mamma, who taught me everything I know about being sweet, and on the right, my Mammaw, who taught me everything I know about being my OWN sef. I couldn't love them any more if I tried. I'm the one in the middle.

Life Will Teach You

2009-03-13T09:27:00.005-05:00

Life will teach you. You may decide what you learn, but learn you will.

I learned pretty early that there is a price to be paid for being different. In my current circle of friends, the fact that I couldn't carry on a five minute conversation about college football is not a big deal. When I was in the fifth grade however, in Arab, Alabama, it meant that I might as well have had a third arm growing out my butt.

I learned if you really want to reach your potential, that being an original is something to aspire to, not to avoid.

I found out that nobody avoids the hard parts, as hard as they might try. And that there are many things to be learned that cannot be truly understood without pain.

You may kid yourself and believe that you are the victim of an unfortunate mistake of God's. You might believe that if only you had been born into a different family with more money, fewer weirdos, or with Angelina's or Brad's looks that everything would be easy, but what you really learned was that life has it's pain. Even Brad's life.

The difference is where you go from there. You can learn the hard lessons and be so put off by the pain of it that you pitch a tent and hang pictures there that are little reminders of what could have been, find some friends who will do the same, and raise your "VICTIM" flag out front hoping that any other of life's difficult lesson's will move on before they decide to pay you any more visits. But all you have learned is how to tread water.

I, for one, learned to tread water, and it is a fine skill, but I've got to fly too. I want to dream beyond my capabilities. I want to reach the heights that only by the divine help of God's grace are attainable. I have no intention of pitching that victim tent. I will mourn losses, feel the pain of hurt, and cry. But I pray that after I have done that serious work, I will have the good sense to take one step at a time until I find myself soaring again. That is the life I was meant to live. Even if I have to remind myself of it every day. Even if I have to watch other people do it just to get a few hints.

I learned that the price you pay for being who God called you to be is so worth it. I would take it over the boring futility of conforming to someone else's expectations seven days a week.

Life will teach you. What have you learned?

The picture is me being an original. You need not take it that far.

Hope

2009-03-10T12:55:00.003-05:00

Hope is everywhere. Yet we choose to look in a different direction. The spring is overflowing with hopeful symbols. This is the first Daffodil I saw a few weeks ago at my Mammaw Nita Ann's front porch. When I look into my Amanda's face I am filled with hope if I really stop to think that she truly loves me while knowing so much about me. Some people find hope in a passion for old cars. That old yet to be discovered Thunderbird that is just waiting to be restored to its former glory.

One fundamental element of hope is its focus. It is about the journey, not the destination. It is the great possibility of tomorrow.

If you are fixed on your current problems, I encourage you to remember something that makes you feel hopeful and spend some focused time there. In Dan Miller's "48 Days to the Work You Love" there is great insight into getting out of the "rat race" or job you hate and discovering the place where God wants you to be. I believe that if God saw fit to make you, then He gave you a specific calling and you can discover it if you will listen. Miller's latest book is called "No More Mondays."

If your life is totally consumed with staring at a clock waiting for your job to be over, then I believe that is a clue that you need to read one of those books. If you are one of the one's who's Facebook update is some version of "Can't wait till Friday" or "Dreading work" or "Hurry five o'clock," I'm betting that you may not be much fun to be around.

Find your hope. It is out there. There are plenty of good reasons to work in a job you might not like in order to fulfill the next step toward a larger goal. We all have bills and obligations, but if your soul is not being fed, you're dead. And nobody likes dead people.

If at First You Don't Succeed

2009-03-08T07:51:00.003-05:00

Here I am on the third and last day of my first horseshow of the year. We're just outside San Antonio in the Mayberry-like town of Boerne, pronounced "Bernie." We've eaten some tasty food, discovered some unique shoppes, and I've begun to get familiar with a new keyboard after yesterday's seven or so hours of accompanying American Saddlebreds, Arabians, a Clydesdale and a miniture horse dressed as a "saddle-doodle."

Two months of no shows combined with energetic horse judges and ringmasters requesting everything from gregorian chant to Freebird left me feeling pretty toasted by nine o'clock last night when Amanda and I sat down to have the chocolate brownie pie at Chili's. We we're at Chili's because everything else was closed. The waiter wasted no time squatting at our table and draping himself over one end, which is toward the top of my waiter annoyance list. I digress.

I guess if this short little blog has a point, it might be summed up by a funny quote offered to me years ago by my Mammaw Beam. It is "If at first you don't succeed, just keep on suckin' till you do suck-seed."

My ESL Class

2009-03-01T09:10:00.007-06:00

As I have mentioned before, Amanda and I are teaching English to a group of African guys at our church on Wednesday nights. When Amanda felt the call for us to be a part of this ministry at church, I had yet to hear that particular call; but I was willing to concede that maybe the Lord could tell her something before He told me.

It only took one night and my reluctance turned to certainty. My excuses were all shot down and I realized that this was a basic need that I was well prepared to meet.

Our curriculum begins something like this. Can you write your name? How about your address? There's the first half hour. Those questions inevitably lead to others, and before you know it another two hour Wednesday night ESL class has passed and on the drive home I pray that the guys in our class have learned half as much as they have taught me.

First? Listen to your wife. Or whomever might be around that encourages you to move just outside your comfortable field of expertise. It is completely in God's nature to tell someone else something that you should know in order to perfect your listening skills.

Second? Gratitude. These guys, all of whom are refugees from violent and desperate situations arrive on time each week with smiles and notebooks ready to meet whatever challenge awaits them with sincere gratitude. When I asked the students to tell me something they liked about living in the USA, the answers ranged from, "I like it because we can meet other people who love God," to "I like nice teach-chah."

Lastly, it is impossible to explain how my heart is changed each week by these brave and intelligent men who are walking into new and foreign challenges daily that would make most of us curl up into the fetal position and cry like babies. The Lord is changing me for the good, and hopefully, before He is finished, these guys will be able to write their names and addresses perfectly.

What a Difference You Made in My Life

2009-02-22T09:29:00.007-06:00

Several of my friends were at a conference in Texas last week and I have been there vicariously through reading their remarks via Twitter. The energy was palatable all the way from there to Murfreesboro. One of the quotes they sent has been ringing in my head ever since I read it: "Someone was dealt the same hand as you in life, and they are winning with it."

As I looked through my photos this morning I came across these. As a kid, I remember singing with Ronnie Milsap's song, "What a Difference You've Made in My Life," on eight track to the top of my lungs in my Mammaw Nita Ann's beige Oldsmobile. The feeling I still get when I listen to this man perform is indescribable.

We know Ronnie is blind, think about what that means. Just consider walking through life in the dark.

A few months ago, I got to hear him in concert and he's SO still got it. He recalled a time as a young man when he got to meet his hero, Ray Charles. Ray said, "Son, they's a lot a music in you." Can you imagine that moment!?

My Papaw Harold told me many times that you can always look around and find someone who "has it worse" than you. I know that is true. I admit, I have wasted time thinking about the hand I've been dealt. That is ridiculous! Don't ever do it.

For Lent, I am giving up my habit of wasting time with futile thinking and comparing myself to others.

Homemade Fun

2009-02-21T10:57:00.005-06:00

I like homemade fun. The kind that you don't need ten quadruple C batteries and a two-hundred dollar hand-held device for. The kind that forces you to talk to other people, or even go outside! The kind that says, "Here's what we have, what can we do with it?" I like it because it's usually free or very cheap, you end up with original ideas, and it cuts down on the clutter of a million little toys making one's home look like a bunch of carnies moved in and left all their crap behind.

Here are just a few examples:

Our good buddy, Joel Brooks, Pastor of Redeemer Community Church in Birmingham decided to make some blocks out of scrap wood. Now he and his girls have tons of fun with the blocks, but the other night we had a fun night and the adults had more fun with the blocks than the kids! He made up a game where each player adds a block to the structure and the first one to knock it down is the loser. You may not believe me, but it beats Wi bowling by a mile and it is one-hundred percent cheaper.

This is a picture of a woman on CNN with hair that looks strikingly similar to the statue below her. That's pretty fun.

My current favorite free "adult" game is Homemade Balderdash. You need about six players, pens and paper, and a plain old Dictionary. (Those are the things people used to use instead of spell-check.) One person chooses a word that nobody knows from the dictionary and everybody else comes up with the best made up definition that they can. The person with the dictionary reads each definition along with the real one, and each player tries to choose the true definition. The reader gets points if the word's actual meaning wasn't chosen by anyone. If a player chooses your definition, you get a point, or if you choose the real definition you get a point. Try it.

As a kid my Mammaw Nita-Ann had her own version of charades that we called "Rum-Pum-Pum." Basically, there was a funny little rhyme you had to say before you did your charade. Somehow, that made it made it funny and special. My favorite game of her's was "I Spy." For some reason we always played it with some kind of a foreign accent, French-ish as I recall. (She said our ancestors were French.)

My great-grandma Barksdale had a very simple three or four room house with only the bare necessities. Among those necessities were always a medium sized rubber ball suitable for kicking around in her front yard in Fyffe, Alabama, some play-dough, and her ready laugh. I remember sunny Sunday afternoons after having the most delicious fried chicken (made the night before and heated up in the oven so as to avoid that hedonistic work of cooking on Sunday) I've ever eaten, her running around on stubby round legs with corn silk white hair in her homemade polyester floral print dress and black flat Sunday shoes having more fun than I could remember up until then. This is the same great-grandma who made for all her many grand and great grand-children stuffed elephants, turtles, squirrels and all manor of unusually shaped animals. All original, no pattern, and all with scraps from her or grandpa Barksdale's old clothes. These are the things I remember, but she was actually most famous in our family for being the best Christian anybody knew since Jesus himself. Seriously y'all.

There was always a piano or a guitar or various other instruments at my house and all my friend's and family's places. We inevitably ended up doing some kind of music for fun, and now I have fun for a living!

Point is, you don't necessarily get what you pay for when it comes to having creative fun.

Disclaimer: To all of you millions of Wi lovers out there, don't hate, create. And to all neat freak carnies, sorry.

Don't Jump!

2009-02-18T11:39:00.002-06:00

This morning I thought, if my life had a remote, I would probably fast forward through this part. It’s gloomy, I have a dull headache, and I have to make a two-hour drive in that kind of nasty cold mist that never fits any of the settings on my windshield wipers.

Why is my brain so connected to the weather? What I’m really asking is: How is it that a few days ago I was ready to sign up as team captain for the race to the moon, and today, I want to bury myself alive? The difference? Twenty degrees, clouds and rain. Nothing else has really changed!

What does that tell me? Emotions can lie. They are real, and there is a good reason that we have them. They can cause real pain. They have the potential to lead us off deadly cliffs or to soaring mountaintops. They can be a valuable consultant, but not a program director.

Emotions have lead people to say hurtful words that could have been avoided with some thought. They have ruined perfectly good relationships. They have led otherwise good people into promiscuity, and have even convinced people that love was dead when it was only buried beneath layers of hurt.

They have also been that extra push needed to win gold medals, break world records, even save innocent lives. Some of the greatest art is inspired by the darkest of emotions, and the quest for happiness, or to escape pain, has caused some of the darkest of human behaviors.

So today my theme song is “The sun’ll come out tomorrow.” I know that today I probably shouldn't make any major decisions. On days like this I tell the Lord: “I know you didn’t give me a remote control for a good reason… but what is it I’m supposed to be learning today?” Maybe it is so somebody could read this and avoid jumping off a cliff somewhere. If that’s you, please comment. Maybe it’ll help me decide not to jump. jk

Life is Short, Eat Some Chocolate!

2009-02-15T09:02:00.004-06:00

This week I had the unusual opportunity to explain the American calendar year to a group of African refugees in the ESL class Amanda and I help with at church. Beginning with January, not that difficult, New Year's is everywhere, moving on to Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter... Try to explain how our holiest Holiday's most widely recognized representative is a giant rabbit who carries a basket with colored eggs to someone who's had only a few months experience with the English language. I didn't. I just gave them the information and figured they could iron it all out later.

Now, after spending a nice Valentine's Day with Amanda, I think I may be a bit closer to understanding the point of all these random holidays. One thing about holidays is that they roll around whether you are in the mood for them or not. So, even if you've had a week full of little annoyances, and paper hearts and sweet words are not on your radar, V-day comes along to say, "Get off your butt and go buy her a present you big idiot! You're lucky to have her you know."

When I told my African friends that Valentine's Day was for love it made them happy. They seemed to get a charge out of the idea that we had a whole day dedicated to celebrating romantic love.

What's the point? We are forgetful. We need to be reminded that it is crucial to get out of our routine and eat chocolate, praise the Lord, be thankful, remember the sacrifices others have made for our benefit, make goofy April Fool's jokes... I know, eating chocolate is already an important part of your routine, that's fine. Really though... instead of being grumpy and feeling blue on holidays, I think if you just try not to blow it out of proportion and roll with it, these days can be just what we need to remind us to appreciate life. It's short.

That's Janvier in the photo. Thanks brother. He was a photographer in Congo.

The Time is Now

2009-02-10T20:47:00.005-06:00

Somehow I can always figure out a way to avoid the moment. Why? Is it habit? Is it easier? Hmm, yes and it does take less effort. We lull ourselves into a state of numb existence by filling our calendars with activity and filling our heads with TV, YouTube, food, and more TV.

I think about spring when it's winter, and fall when it's summer. I think about something I said that maybe I shouldn't have. I think of something someone else said that I wish they hadn't. I think of how it's going to be when I have more money, time, inspiration... What it will be like when we have children, a different house, other clothes. You name it, and I have probably worried about it.

Well, scripture tells us not to worry about tomorrow, for it has trouble enough of its own. (Mathew 6:25-34) We have to grab the now. We have to look around at the opportunities that are in front of us. We have to love the one, or ones, we're with. We have to pay attention to the needs around us. We have to stop worrying about what we are supposed to do and read the Bible, see what God's word says to do, and just do it. It ain't rocket surgery.

Love your neighbor as yourself... the greatest commandment. Love your wife. Love your husband. Love your family. Love your friends. They are right in your face!

Engage. Listen. Love. Put on kindness, gentleness, patience. Share peace and encouraging words. Be thankful. Show forgiveness.

This may sound a bit random; it is just what I'm thinking right now. My sweet Grandma, Mammaw Nita Ann found out yesterday that she is no longer a candidate for a kidney transplant and this has been understandably difficult for her. It seems her health isn't what it should be to ensure that the operation could be successful. We have many dear friends who are struggling with relationship problems and troubles of all kinds. Tough situations always spur me back to the basics. Back to the essential truths of the gospel. The timeless, ageless truth that has been sufficient for generations before me.

When are we supposed to live out our faith? The time is now.

Friends

2009-02-08T09:29:00.003-06:00

There is nothing in the world that can compare with good friends.

It's the opportunity to let off steam when something has been about to blow. It's the laughing at/with each other till tears stream down your face. It's the free, much needed counseling sessions. It's the inspiration to get up tomorrow and hope to get to do it all over again. Sometimes they have seasons, rarely they are forever, sometimes they burn bright only to fizzle, but I'll take them however they come, and try to be mindful enough never to take them for granted.

Don't get me wrong, family is good. But often you know too much. It's just a whole different thing. Every now and then the lines can cross and you can be both... but if you get tired of friends, you just go home to your family and soon enough, you'll have to have somebody to complain to about your family. Don't be hatin', you know it's true.

Thank you Lord for good friends.

Old Dogs and New Tricks

2009-02-06T14:33:00.004-06:00

We've all heard it. It's an easy excuse... You can't teach an old dog a new trick. Well, as I gain a good percentage of my income by playing an old organ that is really no longer serviceable, it has become apparent that I must learn a new trick. "It won't sound as good, it's gonna cost too much, you can't do it! It'll change your sound too much."

These were all going through my head last summer as a cool young guy named Jason Dyba came over to my house with the intention of helping me put together a system using my laptop, new software and some really lightweight keyboards that could replace my five hundred pound, thirty-year-old Yamaha organ Amanda and I nicknamed "Yanni." You know the type, Jason's a tech genius... I'm not. I'm definitely the senior Saint Bernard to this fresh out of college Collie. He's running circles around me; and I am feeling every bit of my thirty-four years. Well, after months of banging my head against the keyboard, I finally had a much needed breakthrough yesterday.

The first thing we tried didn't work, neither did the second. But yesterday I walked back into "Guitar Center," Nashville's best stocked music store for keys, and I found the system that will do what I want it to do. The reasons why are many and a bit complicated, but suffice it to say that it is going to make my life exponentially easier. Here's the point. If you don't try, you have already failed. This old dog is learning all kinds of new tricks. That old saying is a lie. Don't believe it! You'll get to be an old dog before your time.

Special thanks to Molly for her excellent modeling work in the photo... and Molly, you are surely no "old dog.'

The Stacy Beam New Year

2009-02-03T09:26:00.003-06:00

When I was about fourteen years old, on February 3rd, I was having a bad day. I can't remember all the particulars, but what I do remember is that I needed a fresh start. Now there are all kinds of reasons why I might have needed to turn over a new leaf, grades, girls, friends, some kind of New Year's resolution that had already fizzled... I guess it was a combination of all of those, and the fact that, every year, the day after Christmas, I inevitably begin dreaming of the first warm day when the Daffodils are in full bloom and the trees are covered with baby green buds. I was probably depressed that the Groundhog saw from his little roof hole how nasty the weather was outside and decided not to even poke his head out to see if there was a shadow. Anyway, that was the day I proclaimed February 3rd to be the Stacy Beam New Year.

This one man holiday doesn't in any way keep me from celebrating the other New Year. In fact, this year I even celebrated the Chinese New Year. (I found out that I was born in the year of the Tiger.) I always make resolutions on the first of January, but I'm afraid my timetable may be a little later than everybody else's. Maybe it's February 3rd before I really get serious about my goals. And during January, it's hard for me to do anything at all besides sit in front of a fireplace and hope for snow or ice to cancel whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing that day.

So today is my New Year. I think this is rooted in a message I was taught from scripture that says "It's never too late for one more chance with the Lord." Well, until your dead I guess. Feel free to comment and correct my theology or post the scripture reference that I am paraphrasing, or butchering. Also, feel free to make February 3rd your New Year in case you need a second chance to make good on resolutions that "didn't take" the first time around.

Amanda

2009-01-30T17:34:00.007-06:00

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this week marks five years with my sweetheart, Amanda. We still laugh at each other, we cook for each other, we clean up after each other, we share friends, we tell each other our worries, we cry together, we sometimes get a little weary of the other, we each tell the other how cute the other is pretty often, we try hard not to speak harsh words to each other (even though we don't always succeed,) we visit in-laws, we feed the dog, get the mail, give each other directions in the car, hug almost every morning, sometimes dance spontaneously, get really frustrated with each other, say we're sorry (whether we mean it or not,) but mostly what we do... is love each other.

This is the greatest evidence of God's grace that I know of. That two people from different families and unlike backgrounds can meet, fall in love, commit to a relationship, honor said commitment, and share their lives in relative harmony. It is the miracle that I am most thankful for right now. There are many, but this one is my favorite.

Ode to My College Band Director

2009-01-28T11:18:00.006-06:00

I have had many music teachers. Band, choir, church, professional and non professional, private piano, class piano, private voice, class voice, master classes, singer dancers, dancer singers, strings, woodwinds, brass ensemble... and really, that's not all. Among them are some favorites. Among them are some true idiots. (You probably don't have the sense to know who you are...) But a few stand out, right now one in particular. He has the intuition of a mother, the sense of fun of a rambunctious kid, the risk taking fearlessness of a father, the quiet wisdom of a philosopher, and the kind heart of a friend.

When I first arrived on the campus of Wallace State Community College in the sprawling metropolis of Hanceville, Alabama, in the fall of 1992, I was like most kids fresh out of public high school... I didn't have a single clue. I had some friends that I liked to cut up with, my favorite bleached out Guess jeans that looked like they had survived some sort of jean world war, and a music scholarship. It didn't take Mr. Bean long to invite me into his office, sit me down in his chair, and begin my education in earnest. He saw through my "too cool for school" facade and he, first: understood that I was a talented musician that needed to focus, second, was prepared to help me do it, and third, came to see me at a horse show... of all things. My college professor came to see me sing the National Anthem at a horse show. That got my attention. He really cared.

Soon after that, I found myself donning a full studded Elvis jumpsuit, (with black wig and sideburns,) closing out the big school showcase with his smokin' hot jazz ensemble in front of what seemed to me like thousands of college kids including the Dean of students. Now the closest thing I had ever done to that in my short life was maybe performing an extended version of "Because He Lives" for the offertory at the Baptist church where I grew up, or maybe dancing along to the theme of "Dallas" in some crazy get up I put together for my Mammaw and Papaw on a Friday night sleepover. I had NEVER done anything like that before, but for some reason he let me, and for me, it was like music meth. There was a small snag, however; that night I fell and hurt my knee right in the middle of the big "American Trilogy" finish, but he gamely handed me back the mike and made me finish the song from the ground! True.

I say he had the quiet wisdom of a philosopher. Some students mistook that quiet wisdom for being slightly spacey. I say this with the kindest respect that I can muster, because I didn't realise at the time that I had found a kindred spirit. He related big ideas to small minds. Like "too much music or art and not enough physical activity makes you flaky" I am paraphrasing, but that's pretty much how I remember it. Or "Sometimes you need to stop talking and really listen in order to know what is really going on." Or "It is OK, even important, to have a life outside of a practice room."

He has the kind heart of a friend. When my Papaw Harold died, he drove to another town and stood in line for a good forty-five minutes to hug my neck and tell me he was sorry.

There are sooo many more wonderful things I could say about Mr. Bean, and if you've never had a teacher who affected you in such a profound way, I am truly sorry. If you did, take the time to tell them in some way. What profession has more power than that of a teacher who, on a daily basis has the opportunity to effect so many at such an impressionable time? Thanks Mr. Bean. I should be standing in line to shake your hand.

Robert Bean lives in Cullman, Alabama with his wife, Linda, also a band director, and his two children, Maria and little Robert. He continues to teach at Wallace State College and in addition to that, directs a community band and regularly calls to keep up with Amanda and me, among many other cool things.

Shoot High

2009-01-26T18:15:00.003-06:00

I have a few sayings that I come back around to pretty often. One of them is, "Shoot for the stars and even if you miss, you might land at the top of a tree." OK... So I missed my goal of being named Country Music's Entertainer of the year by age thirty. I'm thirty-four. I admit, that was a blow. I have actually done a lot of things on that list, a few that I didn't even dare to dream.

I ran a marathon. Well, I mostly walked after about mile seventeen, but still... that's huge. Since then, I've adopted the idea that doing some kind of exercise is going to be a part of my regular routine until I am shriveled up. That was about seven years ago, and it has pretty much stuck.

I don't go to a job I hate every day. That one is a very big deal to me. The work I do, for the most part, is deeply connected to my passion of relating to people on an emotional level, usually through music. Now there's always room for improvement. Of course it would be nice to make more money, have a butler, a driver, a stylist, you know, little things... but I'm pretty happy with things the way they are right now.

I travel a good bit. Amanda and I took off to Costa Rica this past summer, mostly for a fun and partly to visit "The Abraham Project," an orphanage our church sponsors. We've been to New York City so many times I can't even remember, and we even snuck in a week at Disney World, just to name a few.

I have my sweet family, a few incredible friends, the coolest dog on my street by far, two cars that run, a lot of great books, and I found love. And after five years she hasn't tried to leave me once! What could be better than that?

I am redeemed by the blood of Jesus.

So even if I didn't hit a star, I'd say I surely landed at the top of a tree, I might even be on the moon. And I'm not even close to finished.

Warning, this is a big downer. Continue reading at risk of possibly being disturbed or maybe even offended a little.

2009-01-23T11:28:00.008-06:00

I am sad and worried about something. It is harming the overwhelming majority of people in our country. Harming isn't really a strong enough word. It is contributing to our early deaths. It is making us depressed, and it is causing us pain of all kinds. We continue to make light of it as if it isn't doing these things, as if our joking about it and dismissal of it will somehow insulate us from it's poison. As if we will somehow outsmart it. As if the satisfaction we get from it is worth all the hell we will suffer because of it. It saps our energy. As much as we justify it, it will never be worth what it costs us.

It is what we choose to fuel our bodies... what we eat and drink. I believe it is as sacred a part of our lives as anything else. It is not the occasional dessert, or biscuit or burger or order out pizza I am talking about. It is the daily overconsumption of high fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated vegetable oil, junk. It is poisoning our own bodies and killing the youngest and most vulnerable of our generation.

Maybe it started in the 80's, I'm not sure, but something has happened that has caused us to go from fairly average to averaging thirty to fifty pounds overweight. I believe, for many, it has a whole lot to do with money. Eating poorly is cheap and convenient. But it is not worth it!

We believe that eating healthy tastes bad. That is not true. I believe it is partly because we do not know how to cook. It is partly because we have chosen other priorities.

I usually have some comic relief in my notes, but I cannot think of one funny thing to say about this subject. It is the socially acceptable addiction. It is so many Christians' acceptable drug of choice, but how making a total hog of yourself became preferable to drinking alcohol in moderation is completely beyond my understanding. But that is the undeniable truth. (And another soap box altogether.)

Please join Amanda and I in our attempt to eat foods that come from nature, the way God made them. If it is in a box, wrapped in plastic, has a long list of ingredients you can't pronounce, the first ingredient is high fructose corn syrup, or you have the choice to get the Biggie version, don't eat it! Or at least just have it every now and then. This is my bull horn statement, and I won't have them very often. I think we all should be screaming at the top of our lungs! Our generation is going to be the first in centuries to live shorter lives than the one before us. Wake up and smell the locally grown organic steamed asparagus with garlic and e-v-o-o! It is delicious.

What's In Your Hand?

2009-01-21T21:40:00.003-06:00

I believe in redemption. My pastor, Dan Scott pointed this out to me after I told him about my first memory. This memory is kind of embarrassing, and unbelievable. But I’ll tell you it is true.

So I am in my crib. Not in the hizz-ouse kind of crib, I mean I was in my crib. I was a baby. Is is a summer day and my dad is working outside the window in the vegetable garden. I must have been very bored just lying there when I discovered something in my diaper that looked to me like, with some help, it could be a fun toy. So I rolled my poop into a ball and played with it. Now there are some you asking yourselves “If he really did that, why in the name of all that is Holy would he tell anyone?”

It helps make my point. Ever since that day I have been taking shit and attempting to make something useful from it. I’ll start with some small examples. It is very important to Amanda and me that our environment be beautiful and peaceful. We love nice art, furnishings, and tasteful décor. Our budget, however, restricts our purchasing power a bit, even if it does not stop us from having lovely things.

Here is our den. The chandelier was my great-grandmother Bentley’s. It used to be orange, gold, and avacado. I sprayed it white and then I saw one almost exactly like it on the cover of a very trendy home décor magazine. The little octagonal coffee table was a free (marked down from five dollars) yard sale find that I painted with some leftover paint from another project. The couch was Amanda’s grandmother, Annie’s, and I made the slip cover from some sheets that we weren’t using. That puts us at exactly no money so far. The rug we bought at the Atlanta mart at a discount and there are a few accessories that came from Ikea. The rest of it was unwanted from relatives or something we found very cheap.

This is some art I painted onto a piece of plywood that my father-in-law was going to throw away. I already had all the paint, and I borrowed the tree idea from something I saw on a TV show. The birdie idea came from my awesome friend, Stephanie Kling. Check out her great blog at birdsandtrees@typepad.com.

This is another piece of art that I painted onto some scrap wood. The Lamp was less than thirty bucks at a lighting dealer’s close out sale at the Atlanta Mart.

This incredible piece of furniture was given to us by a neighbor, who was about to trash it. All it needed was some liquid nails and a clamp overnight. It has served as our kitchen pantry, linen closet, and is currently pulling dining room duty housing our Vietri dishes. (all wedding gifts)

Here is our bed. I made the headboard out of a fence that had fallen down in our back yard. I bought the frame at Salvation Army. The guy wanted twenty-five and I got it for ten just because I asked my favorite negotiating question: “Is that the best you can do?” The art above the headboard… you can probably guess.

That is only the start. Our house is full of things that nobody wanted. And it is very beautiful if I do say so myself.

So I believe in taking things that had no value and restoring them. Isn’t that what Jesus does for us?

Sometimes I remember growing up as the grandson of an extremely popular football coach and not being able to play sports to save my life. In Arab, Alabama a boy who can’t play sports can start to feel pretty useless if he isn’t careful. Now I know that what I’m trying to redeem is myself! In taking all this useless junk and turning it into something of value, I am attempting to right a wrong. I am doing my life’s work. I am finding redemption.

Back to Pastor Dan. On Sunday he told a story of a man who gave away a shirt that had been very precious to him. When his son asked him about it, the man referred to the proper way to offer a sacrifice as outlined in the Scripture. Then Dan asked us to consider what we have in our hands.

What do I have in my hand? An old chandelier that nobody wants, some plywood, some paint, a fence that fell down? Now I have a pretty house. Now I have some friends to entertain in my pretty house. Now I can bless my friends and share the love of Christ with everyone I know… it goes on and on. What is in your hand? A life that needs to be redeemed? Turn to Hymn number… wait a minute, you can’t give an altar call in a blog! But He will take you just as you are.

You can hear/watch Dan’s sermon online at christchurchnashville.org free.

Black and White

2009-01-19T14:34:00.006-06:00

I have always been intrigued by race relations, especially in the south. Honestly, maybe I should narrow that down a bit to say I am interested in relationships between whites and blacks in the south. There are probably many reasons for this, one, I come from Arab, Alabama. Arab is a town of almost 10,000 and still, to this day there are very few black people who choose to live there. Historically, this has been because of Arab's vocal minority of racists, I'm sorry to say. I recently read Jerry Thompson's story of his infiltration into the Ku Klux Klan called, "My Life in the Klan." His brave work brought to light a first hand account of the reality of what has been a horrible organization founded on hate and fear. The work hit so close to home for me that there were several names that I recognized in the description of his time spent in North Alabama and Birmingham.

It was not unusual for me to hear that hurtful "n" word used to describe black people from folks who I saw in church every Sunday. After learning from my older cousin that the color would rub off if you touched it, I innocently stroked my African American nurse, Helen's arm. Then as I examined my fingers, she looked at me and said quietly, "No honey, it don't rub off." I have felt guilty for that, and I hope she understood that at four or five years old, I just didn't know any better. Somehow, I still feel like I should have.

It wasn't long after I left Arab that I began to meet people so far outside of the box that I had been accustomed to, that it opened up my life to paths that I had never dreamed possible. I met a friend named Nicole at my first real job who happened to be a drop dead gorgeous African American girl. We quickly became close friends and we still keep in touch. She expertly helped me acclimate to urban life when I decided to move to New York City. As you might imagine, that was no small task!

My all time favorite work of fiction is "Gone With the Wind," mainly because of the honest portrayal of life in the south and Margaret Mitchell's rich characters. Even in a story set in that racially charged time frame, Mammy rises from the pages as a heroine of calm strength and common sense. The book, to me, is not only a brilliant love story, it is an excellent study in human character and race relations. I know some people believe this book is inappropriate because it contains language that may be offensive today. I do not. What is deemed offensive must be held in the light of history, and most times, whether something is appropriate or not simply isn't that black and white.

On this day as we celebrate the life of the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the day before we inaugurate our country's first black president, I don't want to miss a thing. Even though I am politically more conservative, it is impossible to ignore the profound stride that has been made in this country, that not so long ago, allowed human beings to be bought and sold simply because of the color of one's skin. I am moved beyond words when I think of the pride that will undoubtedly be felt by people who remember the bitterly segregated south tomorrow. I am thankful to live in this great country and I pray that people of every political stripe will stop for a moment, move away from their fears of the unknown, and embrace this historical time for exactly what it is: A monumental shift toward that timeless truth our forefathers voiced so many years ago... that every man is created equal.

In Defense of the Cold

2009-01-16T12:04:00.006-06:00

I challenge anyone to walk inside from the frigid outdoors today and not have something negative to say to the first person you see once you are inside. In Murfreesboro, Tennessee today, we are hovering in the teens, but I write in a warm house, relatively speaking. It is almost one hundred years old and a bit drafty, but this is to say, I realize that there are vast numbers of people in the world who do not have the convenience of walking over to a thermostat when the temperature inside strays a little too far away from that perfect sixty-eight to seventy-two range. With all respect to them, I'm not really talking to them. I'm really talking to myself.

I like extremes. Take my coffee for instance. I'd almost as soon drink mud than weak, cheap, Maxwell House coffee. I realize I just lost some of you. I am as much of a coffee snob as one can be on a mildly successful musician's income. I even like the darkest dark roast. I also adore garlic. My great grandmother, whom I loved a whole lot, Lorene Kennedy, would holler to high heaven the minute we stepped close enough to an Italian restaurant to smell it... "Them I-tal-yun garlic eaters'll not catch me eatin' that mess!" she'd squeal. Now that I think about it, she liked her coffee just dark enough to tint the water a light beige. As for me, I'm a "more is more" kind of guy. So why can't I apply the same logic to that stinging cold air that hit my face the second I walked out the door to hit the gym this morning?

Amanda, my wife, starts dreading winter about mid-September. The short, dull gray days and the toes that feel like they might break off if you touched them can really get her down. So about that time I start singing the praises of a cozy hearth, the possibility of a ski weekend, and blessed relief from the sweaty long days with slow flies and sticky nights. It usually doesn't work, but I continue to try. It is a day like today when I find myself reaching deep within to ask "What are the redeeming qualities of winter again?" And do I really believe all that crap I've been trying to sell Amanda?

Yes. Winter is the season when we have more time for parties. More long card games and laughs with friends around a cozy fire after a big bowl of homemade beef stew and corn bread. It is the time when seeds go dormant and remind us busy bee's that from time to time an entire day spent in your pajamas can be just what the doctor ordered. Winter gives us time to go inward. To reflect on what we've been doing and what we plan to do in the coming year. It is the much needed calm before the storm of activity that usually accompanies the first warm days.

Even more than that, winter helps us appreciate summer, just as without the dark, we couldn't appreciate the light, and without pain, we could not fully know joy. That's probably one of the hardest and most important lessons I ever learned. Everybody's got pain of one kind or another. The important thing is to be reminded that you are not alone in it. So if you haven't invited some people you can laugh with over to a home cooked meal to fill up some of these endless hours between 4:30 and time to go to bed, turn off Howie Mandel and go to the grocery store. Get yourself a pound or two of hamburger meat, or chicken or whatever... shoot -call out for chinese if you have to, but get together and enjoy each other while the gettin's good!

Things I Learned From My Dog

2009-01-14T13:40:00.009-06:00

Not long after Amanda and I were married, I started lobbying for a dog. (Amanda liked cats more at first.) After some persuasive conversation, we agreed that we would start our search for a smallish dog that wouldn't shed much. Knowing we wanted to put off having children for a while, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to work on "parenting skills." We knew we wanted a dog that needed a home. Not only were we flat broke, we didn't really see the point in paying the pet shop hundreds of dollars for a designer breed.

Following several visits to the local pet shelters and a place called "Love at First Sight," which almost lived up to its name, but not quite, I got a call on my cell while we were sitting in our little half painted house on Long Boulevard in the heart of Nashville from a kind but no-nonsense lady named Alice. Turns out she's a friend of a friend and heard we were looking for a dog and this sweet dog just showed up on her doorstep and... "Were we interested?"

This is one of the first lessons I learned from Ginny: Don't be too set on your own agenda. As Alice described the dog, the only thing that sounded very positive was that she seemed to be pretty much house trained, and she was very friendly. Growing up with a brother and only boy dogs, my first problem was that she was a bitch. Amanda assured me that girls were OK and sometimes could be cleaner and easier to care for than boys... hmm OK. Secondly she's pretty big. Our house is so small that her kennel would almost be more roomy, but it's not like we have a lot of expensive furniture... "Oh yea, she doesn't really have any hair right now because she had the mange, but it looks like one day there could be quite a lot of it... hair that is. Mmmm, and she accidentally bit me the other day but that was totally my fault" Alice said.

OK. So let's get this straight. She's a big girl who is recovering from the mange, looks like part Golden Retriever, (very hairy) and part Shepherd of some kind, (also very hairy) and she "accidentally" bit the person who was feeding her? Ah, what the heck, bring her on over. Let's give it a try.

We decided to meet on neutral territory so KFC fit the bill. We are excited as we pull in and here is this sixty pound, truly pitiful looking, orange and yellowish gray dog and all I can say to myself is "I love her." Why? Maybe it is partly because I believe in "redemption" as my Pastor, Dan Scott pointed out one day. Boy was there a lot to be redeemed about this dog. But, I think it was mostly because, like so many other things in my life, my ugly little half painted house, myself -a somewhat talented but very broke pretty much unemployed-except for a once a week church gig, newlywed musician in a city where you could throw a rock and hit a musician with a resume a mile long and real gigs. Yeah, so she's nothing but potential... she'll fit right in. She'll be perfect! As soon as we walked in the door and sat down on our seventy-five dollar hand-me-down couch, we looked at each other and then at this smiling dog, and we knew, the trial period is over, she's ours.

So we bought "Dog's for Dummies" and both read every word. She was impossible on a leash and our new neighbors got to know us as "that crazy new couple who runs through the neighborhood screaming "GINNY!!!" every other day. She got away a few times. And I spanked her so hard that I was afraid some of them might call PETA and have me hauled off. This brings me to the second thing she taught me: "Be patient, and keep doing the right thing, and it will pay off."

But that is still just the beginning of what that fuzzy dog has taught me. Not only has Ginny turned out to be a well behaved, beautiful, member of our family, that ugly little house has paid off for us in an unbelievable turn of real estate fortune, but that's another story. I took her to get her stitches out this morning at the vet, (she partied a little too hard on New Year's Eve night and cut herself on a chain link fence while visiting an old friend.) As she sat there with her tail wagging while the vet was taking out her stitches, my heart was full of pride in this sweet dog that nobody wanted. She sat on the cold, stainless steel table with a perfect game face on, ready to face whatever she had coming with a great attitude and nothing but a thankful heart because, strange as it sounds, this dog remembers where she came from. And she never takes it for granted. That's a lot to learn from a dog.

Goodbye Granna

2009-01-12T14:02:00.002-06:00

This morning we said goodbye to a true southern Lady. Mrs. Jamie Baggett displayed all the graceful elegance of that charming definition of "lady" only known to those belonging to that greatest generation of ladies who could feed a full table of field hands, while balancing church work, taking care of her husband and cherished boys and do it all in the Tennessee summer heat, seemingly without breaking a sweat. Even though I only knew her when her hair was as white as cotton, there was so much evidence of her past in her presence, that everything I came to know about her made it seem easy to fill in the rest.

My wife's fraternal grandmother, Sam and Henry's mother was known to me as Granna. She spoke a dialect that is often imitated when that southern dialect with just a hint of aristocracy is depicted (often so poorly) in the movies. Even at 94 her voice was music. When she spoke of her eldest son Henry, a gentle and kind man who can curse more creatively than anyone I've ever had the pleasure to know, you might have thought he could sprout wings and fly right up to heaven if he took a notion. And her baby, Sam, my father-in-law captured her attention and affection to the degree that if he happened to be anywhere near you'd be hard pressed to catch her loving gaze in any direction other than his. "Say-am, you know I love you De-ah" she'd coo. Or to Amanda, "Don't evah fugit how much I love you Sweet-haht."

She had a reputation for her preference of quality, and it ranged from her fine solid furniture that, in her words, "You need only to buy once" to the people whom she held dear, and who in the end saw her through to the other side. She was not left to wonder whether or not she was loved in the halls of a nursing home or a hospital room, but she was cared for in Kelly and Sam's warm and beautiful home with family singing hymns around her bed, ready to bring her her favorite chocolates or anything else she might need.

Of course there were the moments of frustration, maybe even a thrown pillow. But for the most part Mrs. Baggett made her exit without much fanfare. She sang praises to her Lord, made certain those who cared for her knew she loved and appreciated them, and she peacefully bid her farewell to this earth.

Death is always sobering. It always makes me wonder what people will say about me. That's probably evidence of my uncanny ability to somehow turn everything around to be about myself in one way or another. But I think it is good to be reminded that one day, if we are lucky, friends and family will gather around and try to sum our lives up while not spending too much money (as the obituary does still cost by the word.) So what will it be? He sure did talk a lot? He played the piano pretty well? Or, he lived with grace, had a preference for quality, praised the Lord, and loved his family well? I hope it is something like the latter. Granna set an example that it would be wise for anyone to follow.