Helping to Prevent Suicide

Sunset Storm Rolls into Town Creek on Lake Guntersville - where Daddy, Mike and I used to fish

On Sunday, November 7, 2010, Tracie and I joined "Mike's Team" to walk to help raise awareness and funds for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  We met at Heardmont Park in Birmingham, Alabama and walked with Anna Ruth, Daniel and Terri Williams - the family of Mike Williams.  We were there because of two dates in our lives that changes our life course - July 18, 1982 and November 6, 2008.  My father, Josh Johnson, committed suicide on July 18, 1982.  Mike Williams - Terri's husband and Anna Ruth and Daniel's father - committed suicide on November 6, 2008.  Mike was one of my best friends and the former minister of music at Weatherly Heights Baptist Church where Tracie, Ana Ruth, Daniel and I grew up in. 

Suicide has touched us deeply and left us with a void that can't be filled.  We joined together in this walk - along with a couple thousand more folks including our friends who were part of Mike's Team - to prevent others the pain we have experienced in these losses.  That's what the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is all about - an organization to help people identify depression, guide them to help and treatment, and bring them on a road to recovery so they can live a full life with their family and friends. 
 
“Mike’s Team” raised $2,600 thanks to your generous donations!  Our walk last Sunday with Anna Ruth, Daniel and Terri Williams was a reminder of how many people struggle with depression. I can’t bring back my dad or Mike, but I can do my best to help others who battle depression. 

Here are some facts about depression and suicide in the U.S. (from www.afsp.org ):

•    Over 34,000 people in the U.S. die by suicide every year.  It is the third leading cause of death among those 15-24 years old.

•    Among young people aged 10-14 years, the suicide rate has doubled in the last two decades.

•    Risk factors for suicide among young adults include suicidal thought, psychiatric disorders (such as depression, impulsive aggressive behavior, bipolar disorder, certain anxiety disorders), drug and/or alcohol abuse and previous suicide attempts, with the risk increased if there is situational stress and access to firearms.

•    Depression affects nearly 10% of Americans ages 18 and over in a given year – more than 24 million people.

•    More Americans suffer from depression than coronary heart disease (17 million) and  cancer (12 million) and HIV/AIDS (1 million)

•    Depression is among the most treatable of psychiatric illnesses.  Between 80-90% of people with depression respond positively to treatment, and almost all patients gain some relief from their symptoms.  But first, depression has to be recognized.

At the end of the walk, Terri Williams talked to me and Tracie about her struggle on this day after the second anniversary of Mike's death.  We stood side by side with my right arm around Terri and my left arm around Tracie.  On stage, Anna Ruth released butterflies into the air.  It was a touching moment of pain, sorrow, release, absence, and celebration.  It didn't answer the questions.  It didn't take away the grief.  However, it did bring all of us together for the first time since our wedding day on February 21, 2009.  With the love of my life holding on to me, the moment reminded me how much I love Terri, Dan, and Anna Ruth as we our lives were joined by the common bond of Mike. 

I miss my daddy and wish he could be here to know my beautiful wife and his step-grandchildren Timothy and Jasmine.  I miss Mike and wish he could be here to go camping and fishing with our wonderful families.  For both of them, when I cast a fishing line into Guntersville Lake, their fishing legacies continue with me.  I wish they could be here to make more stories with us, telling stories of their own RATHER THAN me telling stories about them.

Tracie and I don't want anyone else to have to go through the pain we or our families have gone through in the loss of a loved one through suicide.  That's why we support AFSP.

Let’s continue to work together to battle depression so that more people can be a part of that last figure and help to lower the number of people lost to suicide. 

Mike Williams fishing below Wheeler Dam

Windows

Store Window, Downtown Huntsville, Alabama

I enjoy looking at windows – the framed structures made out of glass, not the ones on a computer screen named by a Washington state corporation.

Large picture windows capture my attention such as the visitor’s center window at Harriman State Park of Idaho where I gazed on the Henry’s Fork of the Snake River as it meandered through the meadows while off in the distance clouds enshrouded the peaks of the Grand Tetons.

Stained glass windows intrigue me with the stories to be told through artistic glass coloring such as the windows in the sanctuary of Weatherly Heights Baptist Church that cast a soft blue hue upon the pews inside.  There are the large beautiful windows of Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Huntsville that portray a gentle and loving Christ Jesus.

Central Presbyterian Church sanctuary, Huntsville, Alabama

I enjoy watching the reflections of light on the glassy face of windows late in the afternoon or early in the morning. 

Sunset Picture Windows at Lake Guntersville State Park Lodge, Alabama

Sunset Office Front, Downtown Huntsville, Alabama

As a photographer, my camera carries a window of the world through my viewfinder and lens.  I use this window to show others how I see the world and what captures my attention and focus.  Sometimes, this window displays the large and grandiose landscape, but more frequently I focus it on the small and narrow such as a single maple leaf hanging from a tree limb or the chrome grill front of a 1968 Mercury Cyclone or a store sign that says “Dang Alterations.”

Dang Alterations storefront, Hoover, Alabama

1968 Mercury Cyclone

One late afternoon, I was in downtown Huntsville photographing office building windows.  One window caught my attention as it framed a colorful red walled staircase.  I was wearing an orange jacket as you can see my reflection in the window.  I walked across the street carrying my fully extended monopod on my shoulder so that I wouldn’t have to extend it for the next window shot.  I took the shot from the sidewalk, removed my camera from the monopod and walked toward the steps leading down to Big Spring.  A police car pulled up, the officer got out of the vehicle as I walked by him and said,

“Excuse me sir, have you seen a man walking around carrying a weapon?”
I answered, “No, I sure haven’t.”

The police officer shrugged his shoulder as he saw the camera in one of my hands and the monopod in the other and said, “I see what’s going on here.  Sir, someone has called you in saying they saw someone walking around the square carrying a rifle wearing a red jacket.  I can see that you aren’t carrying a rifle, just camera equipment.”

Surprised, I said, “Oh, I’m so sorry.  I wasn’t trying to create a disturbance, just taking photos of windows at dusk. Do you need to check anything on me?”

“No sir, you can go about your business.”  Just as the officer finished saying this, two more police cars pulled up near the other police car to provide back-up to the call of a possible rifle bearing man walking around downtown.  This is when I decided that my photo shoot was done for the evening; I got in my truck and headed home.

Well, that gives you a minor rambling into what happens at times to the person behind the image making.

Red staircase window view in Downtown Huntsville taken before police questioned me

Windows offer us views to the world around us or the world inside of us.  They offer protection from the elements yet allow light to enter to guide us and warmth to heat us.
  
I enjoy looking through windows into the world outside.  At times I hide in the window shadow and gaze at the world on the other side of the glass – an anonymous observer to the world surrounding me.

As a minister and teacher, I guide students along in seeing into the word of God.  We can look at the grandiose such as Paul’s purpose in writing to the Philippians or the much smaller and narrower view of Jesus’ meaning in saying, “I am the vine; and you are the branches…”

Scripture acts as a window into who God is and how we can be His followers on Earth.  Surrounded by the Holy Spirit, scripture offers us protection, comfort, guidance and warmth.

I hope you will join with me in looking through these windows as we study the Word of God together in small groups, Sunday school, worship, and in our individual readings of Scripture.  Together, we can offer different views into the world inside us and how God is making a difference in our lives.

Reflection of Dean in Downtown Huntsville Office Window

Quotes About Ray Gargus

Recently, I’ve enjoyed reading comments on the influence of Ray Gargus on the lives of many.  Ray was a long time member of Weatherly Heights Baptist Church (WHBC) in Huntsville, Alabama where he served as a deacon, chairperson of various committees including search committees for pastor and minister of youth, but his heart was as a volunteer in the youth ministry which began in 1970.

Here are some things people have said about him in emails and on Facebook:

Jane Smith: “He was always a great friend to me at WHBC...What I remember most about Ray Gargus was his love for WHBC and his untiring love for the youth. He never came in the office and just asked me ‘how's it going?’ He always had time to sit down and listen to ‘how's it going.’"

Kerry Wilks:  “…I'm sure I'm only one of many, many people who were influenced by this wonderful man.”

Toyin Augustus:  “…Ray was an amazing individual who left memories in our hearts that we will never forget... he will be ever missed and ever loved!”

Mike Malone:  “I am saddened by the passing of Ray Gargus…As a member of the youth group there in the 80's, RG, as he was known to us punk kids, was an important fixture in our church life…RG, go with grace and love knowing you touched so many lives with your work. To not see ...you in the halls of Weatherly makes my heart ache…Ray Gargus was an amazing man who led an interesting life. His impact on the youth at Weatherly cannot be expressed with simple words….I'll never forget all the times we tried to sneak out of Camp Hargis that were foiled by RG. All of us could recognize his profile in the dark. I'll never forget RG and all he's meant to me and to the church…Weatherly Heights Baptist Church has lost one of the greats…”

Whitney Jimmerson Sparrow:  “...He was an incredible man and I know so many thought, and continue to think, so highly of him.”

Lisa Malone: “He had a tremendous impact on Bryant and all the youth whose lives he touched. What a gracious man. Heaven is richer and we are poorer for his passing.”

Kelly Bradford Howard: "He was a great influence in all our lives...Ray was my Sunday school teacher. His wisdom was great and always made me want to listen. His stories were never ending but i did not mind. Even seeing him 20 plus years later he still gave me a hug and asked how I was doing...

These are just a handful of comments of Ray’s impact.  Our lives have been greatly enhanced by Ray’s compassionate, humorous, and constant care.  Let’s keep telling the stories and passing on the same compassionate, humorous care for the younger ones that surround us now.

Reflections on an Emotional Week

The past several days have been emotional.  Last Friday, I heard about the shocking passing of Beverly Williams who served 35 plus years as the ministry coordinator at Pintlala Baptist Church. I served alongside Bev in my first full-time ministerial position prior to coming to Weatherly.  Bev filled a lot of rolls at Pintlala and will be missed greatly.  She leaves behind her husband, Don, who has Alzheimer’s.  Please pray for the Williams family and Pintlala Baptist Church.  Gary Burton, Pastor of Pintlala, needs our prayers as well.  Gary and Bev were like brother and sister and the key leadership for Pintlala for many years. Thank you Bev, for being a dedicated and caring follower of Christ.   

   
On Sunday, I was grateful to have the opportunity to preach at Weatherly Heights Baptist Church while our pastor, David Freeman, was preaching a homecoming service at his in-laws church in Sylacauga, Alabama.  In my sermon, I told stories about the 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey Team as portrayed in the movie Miracle.  I am very thankful for your words of encouragement, but one post-worship conversation got my attention.  Debra Thomas (Ryan & Ali’s mom) told me that she was an Olympic athlete – a speed skater - at the 1980 games in Lake Placid, New York!  Debra is one of Weatherly's members and a physical trainer at the Southeast YMCA.

On Monday morning, I discovered Melissa Baker’s father - Chris & Matt Baker’s grandfather - passed away on Sunday.  Chris & Matt were two of my youth at Pintlala and in July, Chris came to Greenville to hear our youth choir sing in concert.

Shortly thereafter, we heard that Ray Gargus passed away.  Ray Gargus – R.G. as he was known to many of us growing up in Weatherly’s youth ministry from 1970 to the early 21st century – is missed terribly.  It’s amazing to read the comments flooding in from many people who have been touched by the character of Ray Gargus.  Maybe next week, when I have my thoughts better prepared, I can post some of these comments – of course with the permission of those who wrote them.

I am grateful for a recent visit I had with Ray at Huntsville Hospital and for the many hallway conversations he shared with me.  He really enjoyed being around with teenagers and tried to keep us all laughing somehow.  He was one of several dear people who cared for me after Daddy died.  He put together a Winter Retreat that I attended either before or after Christmas of '83 where we went to the stone lodge at Alabama's Cheaha State Park. He was here at Weatherly when I was brought in as Minister of Youth.  He constantly stopped by to give me advice and to check in on how things were going.  He often told me, "Your grandmother is hysterical. She's always got me laughing about something. When she speaks, people listen." The stories can go on and on and I hope that we keep telling them for a long time. Thank you, Ray, for loving and caring for us so greatly!

Libraries, Aviation Heroes and My Newest Treasure

Growing up, my sister and I found libraries to be places to launch our imaginations and take us on magnificent journeys.  During summer breaks, Mother would take us to story time at the Huntsville Public library.  We were mesmerized by the readers and eager to check out books while Mother got a chance to grocery shop in peace.  Mother took us to Huntsville’s main library where I scoured the shelves for books on cars, auto racing and biographies about Richard Petty, A.J. Foyt and Eddie Rickenbacker.   

When I was 14, I began reading about jet planes, spacecraft and the pilots that flew them.  I read about pilots such as Chuck Yeager, Scott Crossfield and planes such as the Skyrocket and the X-15.  I learned about Project Mercury, Gemini & Apollo.
  
In the past several years, the history I read about came to life through a conversation with Jack Nunnally.  I’ve heard  stories of Jack’s feats of aviation as an Air Force fighter pilot and North American Aviation test pilot - first-hand accounts from a pilot THAT WAS part of the history of the golden age of flight testing high performance jets.  I marvel at the stories of the legendary people and machines that Jack has worked with such as Chuck Yeager, Wheaties Welch, his boss Scott Crossfield who was the first to fly twice the speed of sound, Bob Hoover who is a legend of air shows, Harrison "Stormy" Storms who led the Space Division of North American Aviation, and many others.

Jack's inspiration to fly began when he was a boy and his mother took him to an air field in Florida to meet Charles Lindbergh who had recently flown solo across the Atlantic.  Lindbergh picked up Jack and set him in the cockpit of his plane.  This experience inspired Jack's future to be a pilot.  That's one of the many stories that Jack has shared.  He talks with delight about flying the P-51, P-40, F-86, F-100 and many more. His accounts were first-hand from a person who saw airplanes go from atmospheric flight to the moon and back.  After testing airplanes for North American Aviation, Jack moved to Huntsville to help develop and build the second stage of the Saturn 5 moon rocket.  Later, he helped North American/Rockwell build the Space Shuttle.  Simultaneously, he served as the commander of the Alabama Air National Guard.  What a life he has seen and experienced.
  
Maybe this is how people felt when meeting Jesus’ disciples.  The stories had spread around about the miracles performed.  Then, they ran into a disciples and hear them talking about helping feed thousands with five loaves and two fish, seeing the demons cast out, sight restored to a blind man, and people coming back to life!  Nothing is better than hearing an eyewitness account.  Thankfully, these first-hand accounts were written for us to read today.  The stories come alive because Jesus is still alive and speaks to us through these stories.  We gather together in Sunday school and covenant groups to share these stories and how they impact us.

On July 4, 2010, Jackson Leo Nunnally passed away.  How fitting for this man who served his country in the U.S. Air Force, testing aircraft for the military and building the machines that powered Apollo and the Space Shuttle.

This past spring, Jack Nunnally came to my office after being released from re-hab.  He presented to me his signature on a die cast model of a North American Aviation (NAA) F-86 that says, “F-86F To Dean Johnson.  From Col. Jack Nunnally.  1st Supersonic Airplane.” Rob Lindstrom gave me the model a couple of years ago with the idea of getting Jack to sign it.  
 
The next hour, Jack told me stories of his aviation feats, first-hand accounts of living & flying in China and Japan during World War II and the Korean War, creating the Florida Rockets flying team and pride in his work as a test pilot.
   
Jack’s stories came in bits and pieces as he jumped, in the matter of a sentence, from subjects of the Apollo 1 fire to working with NAA’s CEO to flying in China.  I drew on experience of similar “dot to dot” conversations with Granddady and patiently connected the dots because Jack used key words that reminded me of what I read in history books.  I saw the smile on Jack’s face as he shared story after story.  For one last time, I was in the presence of an aviation hero talking about his life’s passions.

Following Jack’s memorial service, Charlene Pinke pointed out photos of Jack and his different appearance between official Air Force portraits of Col. Nunnally compared to photos of him in the cockpit.  The portraits showed a serious smile whereas cockpit photos showed a broad smile of delight.  Jack was a man who followed his passion and made it possible for others to follow theirs.
    
Every time I see this F-86 model in my office, it reminds me of the many hallway conversations we had, but especially the last one we shared together.  Thank you Jack for letting me see your face alight with pride, delight and fascination.

Willing Followers

In 1988, Idaho park ranger Ed Brashier called me and said, “Will you come to Harriman State Park here in Idaho to guide some tours and nature hikes?”  I agreed to go.  I showed up in late May to be a tour guide through this old working cattle ranch.  I didn’t know anything about the history of the park or anything about ranching or horses.  Our teacher prepared us because she worked the previous summer guiding tours.  We practiced giving tours and learning from each other as we followed a script around the ranch.  Within a couple of days, we were on our own to lead our own tour while one of the experienced guides chaperoned.  Then, we were on our own to guide the tour without any help.  I became very astute at meeting complete strangers, striking up conversations, finding out about them, and telling colorful stories of the people that lived on the ranch.  The toughest tours were small crowds of people that didn’t ask many questions and answered MY “get-to-know- you” questions with one-word answers such as “Yeah..No..uh-huh, etc.”  

Two years later, the park hired me back for another summer, but this time, they wanted ME to train the new crop of tour guides.  The student became the worker who became the teacher.  Of course, what Ed Brashier didn’t tell me was, “Join us where you’ll get to rake toilets, replace mufflers, wade waist deep in muck to observe a swan nest, deal with unruly park visitors, and be involved in a search and rescue party for a lost boy.”  He just said, “Come join us.”  And I flew to Idaho to learn.

Jesus provided his disciples a 3 year class in leadership development.  First, Jesus called them out to be his followers, “Come, be my disciples, and I will show you how to fish for people!” (Mark 1:17, NLT)

The disciples made a decision to follow Jesus, but they didn’t know they were students being trained to pick up where Jesus left off.  See, Jesus left out the part about, “Follow me, I’ll teach you how to lead other people, after I ascend to heaven.  Then, you’ll go on to do some amazing things to a few people while the majority of people around you will test you, taunt you, throw you in jail, and possibly put you to death like they did to me.”  They would probably have continued fishing for fish.  

The students became the workers who became the teachers who became the leaders.  All we have to do is be willing to follow.

A Year Later

Leigh Anna Jimmerson lets Dean do the walking for her

This weekend marks the one year anniversary of the loss of our dear Leigh Anna Jimmerson.  This has been one of the most difficult years I’ve experienced in a while.
 
Over recent months, Shauna Niequist’s book Cold Tangerines has provided solace to me (Niequist, Shauna, Cold Tangerines – Exploring the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life, Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007.)  In Shauna’s chapter “Hide and Seek” she says, "What writing teaches me, over and over, is that God is waiting to be found everywhere, in the darkest corners of our lives, the dead ends and bad neighborhoods we wake up in, and in the simplest, lightest, most singular and luminous moments.  He’s hiding, like a child, in quite obvious and visible places, because he wants to be found.  The miracle is that he dwells in both.  I knew he dwelt in the latter, the bright and beautiful, because I had been finding him there for years, in the small moments of beauty and hope that poke through the darkness of our days.

But lately, I have been finding him not just under the darkness, but in it, right within the blackness and deadness of these days.  I have found a strange beauty in the darkness, one I’ve never seen, a slower, subtler beauty, like how an old woman’s skin is more telling and rich than a teenage girl’s, how a storm can make you feel more deep emotion than a sunny day ever did…” (p. 136-137).
 
This Sunday, at Weatherly Heights Baptist Church in Huntsville, Alabama, we will dedicate a special place next to our sanctuary - the Leigh Anna Jimmerson Memorial Garden.  To me the dedication of the memorial garden this Sunday is a reminder of the presence of God through this dark year.  His mark is on the petals of the colorful flowers and in the dark soil where they take root.  He is in the stories friends and family of Leigh Anna's share about her and the smile those experiences bring us.  Join us this Sunday for a special dedication of the Leigh Anna Jimmerson Memorial Garden and discover its own unique meaning to you.  

Leigh Anna, Olivia, Megan, Dean & Chris

At Summit Retreat 2008 - Sarah, Claire, Kim, Leigh Anna, Bryan, Dean  Chris.

Tracie's Present

My wife Tracie gave me a wonderful wedding present – something I have desired for years, but didn’t think I would receive so soon.  The present is two wonderful step-children – Timothy & Jasmine.  On our wedding day, I went from a house of one to being a family of four. 

Becoming husband and step-dad on the same day was an adjustment for this 40 year old man, but it has been great!  For a long time, I lived by myself and when I saw announcements for “family events” I thought of moms & dads with their children, and the thought of me being there by myself brought fears of parents trying to keep their kids away from “that guy creeping around.”  For a long time, I’ve watched many of you raise your children, taxi-ing them to their various events of interest, eat with them, play with them, and helping them through sickness. 

I’ve enjoyed the small thing such as walking across the street to pick them up from school, walking home from school, playing on the play ground (Tracie and I play on the slides and swings too), answering home work questions, and sharing some things that delight me.  Timothy has been in Cub Scouts this year and will soon transition to Boy Scouts.  We’ve enjoyed sharing stories from my scouting days as we guide him through creating his own learning experience.  Jasmine will draw cars with the number “43” on the door.  Jasmine enjoyed a brief shopping trip we made to a sporting goods store to pick up some rattling fishing lures.  She was fascinated with all of the “shad baits” in the bright colors.  She would choose the purple and chartreuse colors over the boring black and chrome colors I picked.   Both of them have become very attached to a fish pillow I have that looks like a bluegill.  They named it “Mr. Fishman.”

Being husband and step-dad has changed my perspective on the wellness of Dean - greater purpose to take care of myself physically and with the choices I make.  I want to be around a long time for all three of these wonderful people God has blessed me with and entrusted into my care.  Soon, we will gather fishing rods and live bait to catch bluegill.  I will inform them that it’s not “Mr. Fishman” we are catching.

Thanks for your wonderful support and understanding as Tracie, Jasmine, Timothy and I have blended into the family that we are.

Life Celebration

(NOTE: The following entry was written as a worship devotion for a high school youth retreat to Alabama's Lake Guntersville State Park Lodge for February 28, 2010. I have edited it slightly for this blog entry.)

When I am anywhere around Guntersville Lake, I think about my friend Mike Williams. It seems that no matter what I do, I can’t shake the pain and disappointment of losing one of my closest friends of 20 years. We both LOVED this place and made many fishing memories separately and together on these waters. There are times when I get in a daze and stare at the clouds caught up in the thought, “What do I do now that you are gone? How do I move forward?”

Then, last fall, I began reading a book that helped me begin moving forward and rather than focus on the hardships, the negative, the difficult, the disappointing, and the loss – it helped me begin focusing on the great, the beautiful, the happy, the pleasant, and the thankful. The book is Cold Tangerines – Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life by Shauna Niequist (Niequist, Shauna, Cold Tangerines – Exploring the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life, Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007.) Here are some excerpts from the introduction (p. 9-11):

“This book is a shameless appeal for celebration.

I know that the world is several versions of mad right now. I know that pessimism and grimness sometimes seem like the only responsible choices. I wake up at night and think about pesticides and international politics and fundamentalism and disease and roadside bombs and the fact that one day my parents will die. I had a hard year his year, the hardest I’ve yet known. I worry about the world we’re creating for my baby boy. I get the pessimism and the grimness.

And that’s why I’m making a shameless appeal for celebration. Because I need to.

I need optimism and celebration and hope in the face of violence and despair and anxiety. And because the other road is a dead end. Despair is a slow death, and a lifetime of anger…shows on your face and your eyes and your words when you think it doesn’t.

The only option, as I see it, is this delicate weaving of action and celebration, of intention and expectation. Let’s act, read, protest, protect, picket, learn, advocate for, fight against, but let’s be careful that in the midst of all that accomplishing and organizing, we don’t bulldoze over a world that’s teeming with hope an redemption all around us and in the meantime…Today, humble Today, presents itself to us with all the ceremony and bling of a glittering diamond ring: Wear me, it says. Wear me out. Love me, dive into me, discover me, it pleads with us.

The discipline of celebration is changing my life, and it is because of the profound discoveries that this way of living affords to me that I invite you into the same practice…What God does in the tiny corners of our day-to-day lives is stunning and gorgeous and headline-making, but we have a bad habit of saving the headlines for the grotesque and scary…

…To choose to celebrate in the world we live in right now might seem irresponsible. It might seem frivolous…But I believe it is a serious undertaking, and one that has the potential to return us to our best selves, to deliver us back to the men and women God created us to be, people who choose to be the best, believe the best, yearn for the best. Through that longing to be our best selves, we are changed and inspired and ennobled, able to see the handwriting of a holy God where another person just sees the same old tired streets and sidewalks…

…The world is alive, blinking and clicking, winking at us slyly, inviting you to get up and dance to the music that’s been playing since the beginning of time, if you bend all the way down and put your ear to the ground to listen for it.”

Looking from atop Lake Guntersville State Park Lodge atop Little Mountain, you can soak in the beauty of this state park. Below is the largest lake in the state of Alabama. The mighty Tennessee River bends as it makes it’s turn to head nearly west on it’s way to Decatur and Florence. You can see the forest covered mountains of mighty hardwoods of oaks and maples. You can see the limestone rocks and see the weathering from many rainstorms. Above, eagles and hawks fly through a harsh winter for Northern Alabama. All of these things have made it through many storms of lightning, tornadoes, torrential rain, ice and freezing temperatures. However, the river keeps flowing, the eagles continue to search for food and the trees are ready to blossom out with new leaves of Spring. Soon this gray forest will turn pink, white, and green with life abundant.

I want to celebrate life. I’ve lost my dad, Granddaddy, a very close friend and a very dear student. Now, I move forward to build on the influence they had on my life. Guntersville Lake is where I took my first boat ride; learned to fish; fished with family and friends; took Tracie, Timothy & Jasmine fishing for the first time; and proposed to my wife! Tracie and I had dinner in this lodge the night we were engaged! I have a wonderful wife who I longed to be with and we’ve been married a year now! I am a step-dad to two wonderful children who seem to soak up the things that bring me happiness. My dad taught me how to fish and Granddaddy cultivated that. Mike helped me to revel in the joy of fishing. Guess what? Now, it’s time for me to pass this on to Timothy and Jasmine – and along with Tracie - teach them how to fish and soak in the beauty of the world of forests, lakes and rivers, watch eagles soar, hear frogs croak, and stare at clouds.

I get to continue ministering in the same church where my friend Mike Williams ministered to me! I get to pass on through teaching, playing and hanging out with a great group of students at a church where I was baptized. I get a chance to know these great students and be a part of their lives!

It’s time to celebrate what is in front and around us. As you read this, feel free to take part of an exercise. First find a notebook, a journal, or a sheet of paper. At the top of the page, write, “These are the celebrations of (write your name).”

Now, take several minutes to write your own celebrations. Here is a guide to follow. (If it helps you to do this while listening to music, feel free to do so):

1. What things do you have to celebrate? (could be your family, friends, the fact you are about to graduate from high school, going off to college, etc.)
2. What do you look forward to celebrating this year? (this is the big stuff, of course, but think of the small every-day things such as having ice cream with a friend, swimming at the pool, chance to fish/play sports/dance, etc.)
3. Make a list of at least 10 things that you want to do between now and the end of 2010.
4. What are you thankful to God about?

Today, begin storing your memories and celebrations and together let’s put our ear to the ground and join with Shauna Niequist to “…return us to our best selves, to deliver us back to the men and women God created us to be, people who choose to be the best, believe the best, yearn for the best.”

Careful Who You Tell to Find Their Own Fish

The house where I lived inside Harriman State Park was 200 yards from the Henry’s Fork of the Snake River - one of the best rainbow trout fishing rivers in the U.S. The river provides wonderful habitat for mayflies and stone flies which the trout love to eat. Fishermen from all over the country come to fish Idaho’s Henry’s Fork.

I fished nearly every day and caught numerous rainbow trout with the largest being 24 inches long. One mid-July afternoon, I fished in the river with about 8 others fishing nearby. I waded out to a wide spot of the river near a deep pool. Whenever I noticed a swirl on the water (caused by trout feeding on mayflies) I cast near the swirl to tempt trout to my fly. A swirl formed about 30 feet from me and I cast toward it. I stripped my line in to keep it tight. There wasn’t a fish strike on that pass, so I cast again to the same spot. That’s when I heard a voice from about 70 feet away say,

“Hey, go find your own fish!”

I looked toward the fisherman and asked, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He answered, “I said go find your own fish! For the past 10 minutes, I’ve been tying on a new fly to catch that fish!”

“Really?” I asked.

“YES, really!” He answered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” I said and quietly waded back to the bank to find another area to fish as I thought I had given adequate distance between me and the other fisherman AND there were other fish feeding around him. I got out of the river and decided that was enough - I didn’t want to fish anymore. I stood near the parking area until the fisherman returned to his car. I wanted to say something to him, even apologize again, but decided to leave as I was afraid of saying something unkind. Because of the rudeness of this one fisherman, I didn’t want to go fishing for two weeks. He turned me “off” of fishing.

The day after this man told me to, “Go find my own fish” I was back on duty as park ranger patrolling parking lots to empty trash cans, check restrooms and make sure all of the cars had paid their park entrance fee which was indicated by paper slips on their windshields. I noticed the car of the fisherman from the day before. He hadn’t paid his entry fee. I pulled out my parking tickets and left it on his windshield and said to myself, “Be careful who you tell to go find their own fish.” Later that day, another ranger encountered the same man who was complaining because he didn’t think he had to pay to enter the park because, “The fishing isn’t all that good this year.”

As Christians, we carry the mark of Christ. When we act Christ-like toward others it may be noticed and appreciated. However, when we act in ways that is rude or unkind, they notice us even more because of the mark of Christ around our necks, on our t-shirt, notebooks or cars. Remember to bring honor to the mark of Christ that you carry into the classrooms, restaurants, gyms and neighborhoods because together we are all fishing to be the people of God.

The Swimming Eagle

Harriman State Park of Idaho’s visitors center overlooks the Henry’s Fork of the Snake River. One morning in 1990, while waiting for tour groups, I looked through the viewing window and watched a flock of immature bald eagles flying over the river. Immature bald eagles are 3-5 years old and have brown plumage speckled with white before getting their distinctive white head. They are sort-of in their “teenage” years as they figure things out on their own, develop their wings, learn how to soar on the wind drafts and get better at catching their own food.

Suddenly, one of the eagles swooped down to the water and extended his talons. It was the typical “eagle stance” seen in photos, displayed atop winners trophies and stamped on the back of a 1976 American silver dollar. This majestic young eagle came in prepared to catch its prey. His talons hit the water, scooped its prey and THEN – well – uh- the eagle didn’t lift off of the water! All forward motion stopped! His talons were stuck beneath the surface because he hooked on a fish much larger than his body could carry. I picked up a pair of binoculars to get a closer view. With his wings still held high in a “V” shape the eagle began to sink into the river. Then, he used his soggy wings to swim to the sandy river bank. Once out of the water, I saw his yellow talons holding a fish about 4 inches long for in his haste to stop the sinking, he let go of the bigger fish and grabbed something to save face. His head darted left and right looking for his eagle buddies wondering,

“Did anybody see that?”

Within a minute, this eagle was surrounded by 4 or 5 more young eagles. They looked at him, his catch and “talked” amongst themselves,

“What happened to that great BIG fish you said you were going to catch?”

“Yeah, couldn’t you handle the weight?”

“We see you caught a little minnow to snack on. Hah-hah.”

The eagles remained on the bank while their embarrassed friend shook to dry his feathers. Fifteen minutes later all of them were back flying together.

Eagles go through growth to build their strength, gain confidence and learn through trial and error. As teenagers, we humans go through a period of trial and error where mistakes are made. We laugh about them with our friends, shake it off, fly off and try again. It’s not easy, but it’s easier when you have people to support and care for you.

As part of youth ministry, we hope to give you opportunities where you can learn and strengthen your abilities as you mature into adulthood. Join us as we fly together.

The Impact of Idaho, Montana & Wyoming

One of the most influential experiences of my life came through a summer job experience while I was a student at Mississippi State University.  In 1988 and 1990, I worked as a seasonal park ranger at Harriman State Park of Idaho. My job was to guide park visitors on nature walks and historical tours of an old cattle ranch turned state park.  I learned how to tell stories, strike up conversations with complete strangers, create multi-media presentations, and many other things that shaped my professional life.

In addition to these valuable experiences, my spiritual life was enriched by the people I met, rangers and their families who became friends, and the beauty of the Rocky Mountains.  It was in Idaho that I began to feel the tug of a call into ministry while I was helping a minister put up a sign for his church.  It was here that my spiritual life deepened through long hours of isolation from people – it doesn’t take long to get away from people in the Northwest.  It was here where I was given direction of what I SHOULD be doing with my life.

   

In the coming week’s I’ll share some of my stories of the people, people and places I experienced such as: what happens when an immature eagle tries to catch a fish bigger than itself; when fishing be careful which fisherman you tell to, “Go find your own fish;" the benefit of carrying thermal underwear in June when visiting Yellowstone National Park; and other stories.  Maybe these stories will make you laugh and maybe they will inspire you to make your own journey to somewhere meaningful to you.  It sure made a huge impact on me.

Looking at Clouds

This past month, I’ve been staring at the clouds every chance I look out the window. We are in the thick of winter in North Alabama, but this past month has brought us warm air, rain, thunderstorms and even a tornado. All of this came on the heels of an intensely cold week of teen and single digit temperatures. However, we live in the southeast where our winters are mild compared to the northern part of our country.

I stare at the clouds amid a backdrop of deep clear blue sky. Cotton ball puffy clouds pass beneath the fuzzy wiffs of white smokey mists billowed by high altitude currents. My eyes affix to this changing beauty above me and I freeze in place. Tears swell in my eyes as an aching hole returns to memories of my good friend Mike Williams. Mike would enjoy watching these clouds. There is something about them that lift me from the present place me in the past to the deck of an aluminum boat floating on the reflective yet absorbing lake water. There, in the past, I am reunited with my friend, my fishing buddy, my ministerial colleague. Mike is on the front deck and I am on the rear deck. With fishing rods in our hands, we stop our casting of lures to look at the clouds that lay in front of us as they reach from lake surface toward heaven.

“Wow!” I say. “Look at those beautiful clouds, Mike.”

Without words, Mike responds with a noise of acknowledgement and appreciation.

“MMM-mm. Gorgeous, aren’t they?”

"Yep!” I answer. Our words to each other end there as we soak in the experience of being there.

Heavy sky bound water vapor separates and moves within and throughout other clouds and I am ripped back to the present.

"He’s gone! Fishing days with Mike are gone!”

Pains of absence grip me as a daily reminder that I can’t shake this. I’m having trouble moving on because I don’t understand what happened on November 4, 2008. It would be easy for me to be frozen in place staring at the clouds unaware of time’s passage. The grief of loss continues to grip me. The hole will never be replaced and I wish it wasn’t there at all. I want today to be a time of looking forward to the next fishing trip with Mike, but nothing I do turns back the clock. We move forward to the next Monday which turns into Tuesday turning into Wednesday turning into another day off followed by another workday. Winter turns to Spring becoming Summer drying into Fall returning to Winter. With each passing day, month, and season, life goes on and I have to learn to live with the changes, sameness and absence of those that used to be here. Daddy is gone and I have learned to understand what led to his departure. Granddaddy is gone and we lived a full life with him. Leigh Anna is tragically gone leaving its own hole upon my life and ministry, but Mike’s departure has been hard for me to grasp and accept. I teeter on moments of anger - due to lack of understanding – and absolute gut wrenching tear driven stains of sorrow followed by joyous thanksgiving for over 20 years of creating friendship.

The clouds draw me in. It reminds me of watching Flip Pallot’s fishing show, The Walker’s Cay Chronicles and seeing Flip guiding his boat across the glassy surface of the intercoastal waterways of Florida. His fishing day ends with an escape from the oncoming battleship summer thunderstorm clouds. The feeling of fishing – the way it feels to me and was shared by Mike – is captured on the film and in Pallot’s narration. Watching the clouds pass returns me to the wonderful adventures shared with the best fishing buddy of my adult years. After Daddy died, my granddaddy – Bruce Gilbert – was my primary fishing partner. As he got older and less able to get in and out of a boat - and I moved away from Huntsville to Birmingham - Mike became a regular fishing companion.

The clouds represent how I view heaven – the kingdom of God surrounding us. The clouds spread from the high altitudes coming down to earth through foggy mornings and reaching us where we are. The dense air cannot be contained by shapes, metal boxes, or brick houses. It just surrounds them with beautiful white warmth.

For now, I’ll continue to look at the clouds and in time I will stare beneath them to find a better understanding of where I am now and how to move forward in absence of my dear friend. Amid the clouds we will laugh and stories will be shared. Mike remains with the clouds, in my boat, watching as I carry on our passion of fishing. His present voice is silenced, but his voice from the past guides me and lifts me as it always did. Encouraged by his spirit, comforted and led by the Spirit of God, I carry on as a minister to the people of God and one minuscule care taker of God’s creation.

I miss you Mike!