Behind the home my dad grew up in, and lives in today, my grandfather built a smokehouse around 78 years ago. Every winter, when the weather got extremely cold, my grandparents, my dad and his siblings, and their farm hands would kill 10-12 hogs – 3-4 at a time. I’ll spare you the details (you can thank me later).
My grandmother’s job was to smoke the meat. After the meat had been salted down for 21 days, she would take it out, dip it into warm water to get the salt out of it, then hang it in the smokehouse on poles. She would smoke the meat really slowly for two weeks, keeping the green wood barely smoldering. She wouldn’t let the fire blaze up or have any heat to it. She kept it going just enough to cure the meat and give it that good smoked flavor.
Here’s how she described life with the smokehouse: [click to continue…]
Write your epitaph. That was the assignment.
I was attending a nifty goal-setting seminar, sponsored by a local business. The two presenters were carrying us through a series of exercises to help us clarify our highest priorities, so that we could prioritize our time consistently with our deepest passions. Think of it as a LifeVesting seminar where Jesus was welcome, but not necessarily the host or guest of honor.
Anyway, the presenter asked us to reply to the following:
“(Your name) was known for…”
But this was no press release or publicity sheet. I had to assume the ultimate. [click to continue…]
It was, without a doubt, one of the lowest periods in my life. I was broke and jobless, living in the wake of my own failures. My whole world had turned upside down. I was torn between two directions – to stay in that part of the world that I had always considered home, or to venture out to a place I had only seen on trips to my in-laws’ house.
My wife wanted to be near her parents during that season. I wanted to live in Anywhere Else, USA. “If the world was flat,” I said, “Lubbock would be on the edge of it!”
But my world was flat. [click to continue…]
“Something’s wrong with your work.” The conversation eventually landed there.
A member of the denomination’s hierarchy delivered the critical review to a faithful old pastor during a prescribed periodic evaluation.
“Only one convert has been added to your church this year, and he is only a boy,” the boss said.
Later that same day, the pastor languished alone in his study, praying with a heavy heart, when someone walked up behind him. [click to continue…]
I had an experience a few years ago that moved me more than anything had in months or years. And to this day, I’m still not sure why, and/or why it moved me on that particular day.
It was a Sunday afternoon. The house was quiet and I was alone. I lay down on the bed and started watching a rerun of “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” I’d seen the movie several years earlier, and for whatever reason, decided to watch it again.
I had already gotten pretty weepy at a couple of places in the movie. But at the climax of the film, when Mr. Holland sees the lives he has impacted, and hears the governor, once his student, say, “Mr. Holland, we are your opus,” my guts turned inside out. It hit a nerve – a deep, raw nerve – like nothing had in years – perhaps ever.
By this time I was sitting in the den, alone in the house, sobbing. [click to continue…]
I don’t know geology, but I know generally what they’re talking about when they use the word, “fault.” Somewhere deep in the foundations of the earth are places where cracks produce shifts at times in the earth’s foundation. We experience them as earthquakes. Destructive and deadly, they leave scars on lives and landscapes that time alone doesn’t fix. All the result of faults that, may have seemed nonexistent a day earlier.
Faults show up in the Bible, too. “Admit your faults to one another and pray for each other,” James says, “so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous man has great power and wonderful results” (James 5:16, LB). First thing I notice is that even “righteous men” have faults. And who better to pray for our faults than someone who is painfully aware of their own?
Of course, we have other names for faults… character flaws, weaknesses, besetting sins, vices. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on March 17, 2009
in Enlarging Your Capacity, Exploring the Possibilities, Five LV Laws, Insight, Leadership, Life Currency, Love, LV Alter-egos, LV Cycle, LV Stories, Principle of Freedom, Principle of Legacy
Maewyn Succat. Bet you never thought to hang that name on your son. But Maewyn wasn’t from around these parts, and his name apparently suited him as he grew up in his native Wales.
Maewyn had a pretty respectable upbringing. His granddaddy was a preacher, and his dad was a deacon – though rumor had it that Dad’s religious affiliations had more to do with tax deductions than spiritual passion.
In most ways, I suppose, Maewyn was your typical teenager. Times were tough, but youth is a time to dream of something better. No doubt this teenager had dreams, hopes, and plans to get there.
But all of that came crashing down when Maewyn’s family estate was attacked and he was abducted, placed in chains, and hauled off into slavery, far away from his home and his family.
What do you do when all you’ve ever known is ripped away from you? How do you respond when your dreams, your hopes, your family, and your heritage become distant memories or painful reminders of a life that once was?
Some children encounter such things at very early ages, and never remember their heritage or parents. Not Maewyn. He’d seen too much. Known too much. Missed too much. [click to continue…]
Awards season is in full swing. The Golden Globes, Grammys, and Emmys are history. The Oscars are approaching. That can only mean one thing:
Michael Minutoli is probably close by.
Michael Minutoli is a party crasher, and without a doubt one of the best. For more than 15 years, this man has boldly gone where few of us would dare, and he never had a ticket. You could find him at movie premiers, awards programs, concerts, and backstage parties. Have tux, will travel.
He moves with such congruence, he blends right in. And he has the pictures to prove it – more than a thousand of them. You can find disposable camera prints of Michael with his arm around the likes of Harrison Ford, Katie Couric, Britney Spears, Paul McCartney, Dustin Hoffman, Tom Hanks, President Bill Clinton, Jack Nicholson, Sean Connery, Madonna, and Bruce Willis. Just to name a few.
And boy, does he have stories to tell. [click to continue…]
Last week at a yet-to-be-revealed location, the President of the United States was assassinated.
Don’t rush to your local paper – you won’t find any mention of it in the press. Many people believe it was a conspiracy, but there will be no arrests. Nor will you hear of trials, sentences, or executions. And lest I start an ugly rumor, I’m not talking about President Bush, or President-elect Obama. This president didn’t actually make it to the White House, or Congress, or even a voting booth before he was cut down.
Fact is, he never made it to the nursery.
The President wasn’t alone. Also killed last week were six federal judges, thirteen members of Congress, two state governors, thirty-one legislators, and more than a hundred teachers at various levels. Figure a dozen or so preachers into the mix, but they don’t count. Add to it almost a thousand nameless welfare recipients, a couple hundred various professionals, and some amazing artists and musicians.
All dead. The killings were executed(!) flawlessly.
All defenseless. No one had time to call the police, send for Secret Security agents, or even pull a weapon. One or two might have raised a fist in self-defense. Not much help, though. [click to continue…]
Okay, surely this is just a coincidence.