Local love-struck legend. . .

Last night my friend, Kim, told me a story that is making its way around the town of Hamilton. It seems there is a certain bachelor farmer who took a liking to the waitress at the nearby watering hole. The farmer himself is a bit of a local legend. He has three seasons: planting, drinking, and harvesting. When he's not on a tractor seat, he's on a bar stool.

Anyway, this little waitress of his apparently had only one flaw to mar her natural beauty: she lacked teeth. (She might have had more but, as I understand it, gals become more pristine with each subsequent beverage.) This farmer courted the gal and, when they finally became an item, bought her a brand new set of choppers.

Fast forward. The farmer and the waitress had a falling out and broke up. When the farmer left her, and here is the really legendary part of the story, he took her teeth with him!!!

If this were the end of the tale, it would be tall enough. But apparently the lovesick couple has begun dating again. Kim tells me that the farmer has returned her teeth but, unsure if the relationship will endure, he has only given her the top set!

Wow. . .

A lesson from Eddie

Several years ago our friends Mike and Shelly treated us to an evening at Eddie Merlot's. If you've never been to this incredible eatery, you would be amazed. It is p-o-s-h! For us, it was a once-in-a-decade experience where the incredible food was eclipsed only by the company of our companions.

In particular, what stood out to me was the attentiveness of the wait staff. A wait person stood sentry at one end of the dining room at all times. A mere glance from one of our party brought him table side. Eye contact was all that was required, and he immediately swung into action.

Why the talk of Eddie Merlot's? Something I read today made me think of that experience. The psalmist who penned Psalm 123 wrote:

I lift my eyes to you, O God, enthroned in heaven. We look to the LORD our God for his mercy, just as servants keep their eyes on their master, as a slave girl watches her mistress for the slightest signal. Have mercy on us, LORD, have mercy, for we have had our fill of contempt. We have had our fill of the scoffing of the proud and the contempt of the arrogant.

Reading Psalm 123 made me wonder, am I as attentive to the Father as my Eddie Merlot's waiter was to me?

Tracy is home . . .

Mrs. Frankly is back home after a rough week. She had surgery on Tuesday. She came home on Wednesday. She was home only one hour when she passed out and had to be returned to the hospital via ambulance.

She was bleeding internally and had to have another surgery on Wednesday night / Thursday morning. They found the "bleeder" and were able to get it stopped. She came home today. Nothing like a little stress on top of stress to raise the blood pressure.

Thanks for praying for Tracy and for me. We're grateful.

Victimology

I'm reading Thomas Friedman's award winning book, From Jerusalem to Beirut. I was interested to read what he had to say about the victim mentality. Speaking of Menachim Begin's willingness to violently confront the PLO, Friedman wrote: "Someone who sees himself as a victim will almost never morally evaluate himself or put limits on his own actions. Why should he? He is the victim."

That made me think of something my friend Lee Bracey, Executive Director of Woodburn Christian Children's Home often says: "We're not raising victims, we're raising overcomers." I'm glad Lee and WCCH are raising overcomers. Maybe that is why their kids more often break the "victim cycle" from which they come.

Grieving goodbyes

Earlier tonight my two oldest children were upset and crying because they had a bad encounter with one of their friends. Usually chatty and interacting, their friend blew them off at a party. They wondered, "is he mad at us for moving?"

That got me to thinking about the five stages of grief. I wonder, do they apply to saying goodbye to people you love?

1. Denial - They're not really moving away. They can't be.
2. Anger - Why are they leaving? Where's their loyalty? Doesn't our friendship mean anything to them?
3. Guilt - I wish we had spent more time together. If only I would have ______________.
4. Genuine grief - In essence, a good cry.
5. Resolution - I accept that the "status is no longer quo" and joyfully move on with life.

Tonight I tried to explain to Abby and Caleb that, when people say goodbye, they grieve the loss of that friendship. As they do, they go through various emotions like those listed above. They're not bad people, they're just hurting.

The time will come when all that remains is the joy of a lifelong friendship. I believe that. I hope my kids do, too.

Till my trophies at last I lay down . . .

Mrs. Frankly and I have spent the week getting ready for and now having a massive yard sale. We've been dragging . . . stuff . . . out of every nook and cranny of the Weller home. I had no idea how much . . . stuff . . . I had.

Tonight, as I was toting boxes out of the attic, I ran across a banana box filled with my old 4-H trophies. I've carted them from Indiana to Michigan and back to Indiana. We've been married twenty years, and this next move will be our twelfth (that's for you Scott and Sam). I've carried that same box each and every time.

I'm wondering . . . perhaps it's time I left the pig trophies behind. Or, should I lug them to Lansing once again? What say you faithful readers?

Our new castle

They say that a man's home is his castle. It looks as though our new chateau will be the home located at 201 Queen's Court in Grand Ledge, MI.

As most Frankly Speaking readers know, I have accepted the position of Senior Minister at South Lansing Christian Church in Lansing, Michigan. Consequently, we have been house searching for the past three weeks. We sifted through over a hundred listings in four school districts. We went through more than thirty homes. We finally settled on this beauty. Our counter-offer was accepted Tuesday, and our financing was preapproved Wednesday, so it looks like we're all set.

It is easy to find (click here for the map), so we expect all our friends to come and visit. There is plenty of room, and the A&W is right across the street so we can enjoy a visit over a root beer float.

Please be praying that our home in Butler will sell quickly (we plan to list it on Monday), and that our closing in Grand Ledge will go off without a hitch. Then pray for the transition as we sell some of our stuff, pack the rest, and tote it 90 minutes north.

Ninety-eight percent

The vote was cast Sunday morning at South Lansing Christian Church. 98% of the assembled congregation voted to call me as their new Senior Minister. I am overwhelmed and humbled by the confidence placed in me. Better put, I am pleased that South puts so much trust in the leadership of their church. It is a testament to the elders and the search committee that so many voted to approve their unanimous recommendation for my candidacy.

Tracy and I will be formally announcing our decision to leave our Butler Church of Christ family this coming Sunday. It will be a hard day for us - one that is bitter and sweet.

We dearly love the brothers and sisters at Butler. But when God calls, you either go and experience the wonderful things He has in store for you, or you ignore Him and risk losing His blessing on your life. We're going to go.

Bringin' home the bacon . . .

My friends Todd and Pat Imhoff just opened their new store, IQ Meats. We stopped in last week and bought some bacon and steaks to take with us to the lake. Gooooood eatin! Their grand opening is this Saturday. I plan to stop in and pick up some meat for my annual Father's Day carnivore spectacular.

My advice to Frankly Speaking readers: do the same!

Finally . . .

It's nice to see Bill Gates finally get his college degree from Harvard. He and that other college-dropout-loser Steve Jobs have done okay. I guess.

No small potatoes

Our Joshua's Men group is reading Point Man by Steve Farrar. Farrar quotes Donald McCullough in his book:

"We think we know what will secure greater happiness - marriage or divorce, a higher salary or professional recognition, steamier sex or deeper intimacy, a new faith or better spiritual experiences - the list is as long as humans are ingenious in imagining greener grass on the far side of the fence. But we don't realize how hungry we really are. Small potatoes won't satisfy. We need a banquet table that only God can spread."

Heading North to South

Earlier today the elders of Butler Church of Christ announced to our congregation that I will be preaching a "trial" sermon at South Lansing Christian Church next Sunday, June 10. For some, this came as quite a shock. Others began hearing whispers in the last few weeks, and our elders wanted to end any speculation that might distract from our church's mission. While we'll have to wait a week to learn if, in fact, I am called to South, the events of today compelled me to share some thoughts about this anticipated transition.

The decision to leave Butler might seem sudden, but it has been anything but.

Tracy and I began talking about 2007 late last year. For us, it promised to be a noteworthy year. In February we celebrated our tenth anniversary at Butler Church of Christ. Just last week both Tracy and I turned forty. In August we will commemorate twenty years of marriage. With all our "anums in alignment," Tracy and I began to pray about God's direction for our ministry. Was it his desire for us to remain at BCC? Or was it time for us to move on and begin a new chapter of our service to God's Kingdom?

In addition to praying we sought counsel from people we trust and admire. We asked them to pray. We listened.

Then, in late February, South's Associate Minister, Wally Lowman, called to ask if I was interested in discussing the Senior Ministry position at their church. Frankly, I was stunned. When I was an associate minister, I would average a phone call from another church about once every other month. But it had been ten years since another church seriously "courted" me.

Tracy and I prayed and talked, and decided to put Wally off until we completed our long anticipated mission trip to Haiti. While in Haiti, we continued to pray, and when we returned I phoned Wally. He asked how our trip went. After giving "Lowman the lowdown," he said something I later relayed to Tracy: "We have a group go to Northwest Haiti Christian Mission every year." For me, that was confirmation number one that maybe God was doing something. When I mentioned Wally's comment to Tracy she said, "Oh, don't tell me that!" She can recognize God's hand at work too, and she wasn't quite ready to call U-Haul.

Another confirmation came when Wally asked me if I was familiar with a discipleship process their leadership was working to implement. It is taken from a Thom Rainer book titled Simple Church. I nearly dropped the receiver. For the past several weeks I had been leading our church staff through a discussion of that book. At that point, we were already working to redefine our ministries in "Simple Church" concepts. Confirmation number two.

I agreed to meet with the search committee. Actually, finding a date when we could all connect was tough, but when we did, I was really blessed by our time together. They asked some tough questions. I asked some tough questions, too. We discussed South's mission, and I discovered that it is nearly identical to the mission I've been promoting at BCC for the last four years. By the end of the meeting I found myself making a subtle mental shift from, "God, are you doing something?" to "God, I hope you're doing something!"

The search committee told me that they wanted to make a unanimous recommendation to the elders at South. I expected to wait a couple of weeks before hearing anything. It took only two days.

We set up a meeting with the elders at South. Again, tough questions. One elder in particular, a 30 year Human Resources veteran at GM posed some difficult administration related questions. Another asked me to talk about my position on the role of women in the church. The time flew by, and before we knew it we had met for over two-and-a-half hours. Again, I anticipated hearing something in about a week.

Dick Novello, the chairman of the elders called me the next day to ask when I might be available to preach a trial sermon if, at their meeting later that night, the elders decided to recommend me to the congregation. Again, I saw God's hand at work.

There have been other confirmations, too. Larry Carter, the President of my alma mater, told me, "I believe you're the man for this job." His affirmation means a lot to me, and humbles me even as I write this. My GLCC English professor, George Brown, called to encourage me. George's opinion carries a lot of weight - not just for me - but for all who know him. Jeff Strickler, a guy I knew in college who now attends South, was an encouragement as was Ruth Doty, one of the kindest ladies I've known. Of course my buddy Fred and his wife, Mariah, have been an incredible support to us as has my long-time friend, Mike.

Let me give you one more signpost from God. We've been looking at houses and, on the recommendation from a friend, we contacted a particular realtor. Now, this friend doesn't attend South; he has just used Missy in the past with great results. We've traveled all over Holt and Grand Ledge with Missy, and she is a delightful person. It turns out she listed the last SLCC preacher's home. She even attended South at one time and told Tracy that she really needs to start going back to church. Tracy was happy to recommend she return to South and see us.

God, we're told, works in mysterious ways. Yet, I'm certain he also works in convincing ways. We're convinced this is God's plan for us.

It hasn't been easy, today. We've shed some tears, and watched our friends hurting. We wish we could wrap folks up and take them with us. But just as surely as God's plan for us is to move to Lansing, God's plan for Butler is to continue to connect with God, connect with people and serve the world. Somewhere right now, there is a pastor who is praying that God will reveal "what is next" for him. That pastor is about to be blown away by the providence of God and the goodness of the people at Butler Church of Christ.

I hope he enjoys the journey as much as I have.

Miller's Time . . . or at least it oughta be!

Did you see Donald Miller peering out from the cover of the latest issue of Christianity Today? Me either. It's a shame, too. Miller has become one of my favorite authors. His books, Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What and To Own a Dragon have all impacted me. It is entirely appropriate that Miller grace the cover of CT's Annual Books Issue.

Of course, to look at the cover you wouldn't know that he was there. Why? Because the "Annual Books Issue" of Christianity Today has been re-covered with an advertisement for the new movie Evan Almighty.

It is so subtle that I didn't catch it until I had nearly read through the issue. The only difference between the sell-out cover and a typical CT is the upper right hand corner addition of the word "advertisement" in small letters. [See it there above the "a" and the "y"?]

The marketing of CT's cover and the displacement of Miller's mug suggests that we live in a world where movies have supplanted books as the dominant media of our day. That is probably true.

But, as one who loves both movies and books, I still don't like it.

My May flowers

My yard is alive with color! After several weeks of off and on planting, my flowers are beginning to bloom and fill an otherwise drab spring with vibrant color. Marigolds were the first to go in the ground. I have one bed that fills up with orange and yellow blooms each year. Their golden orbs nestle beneath a yellow day lily and a black-eyed susan. Beautiful!

Right behind them, on the east end of our porch, are two window boxes filled with red and white begonias. They're a blue flower away from a patriotic statement, but I've yet to find a blue begonia.

There are euphorbia and knautia (I just like saying their names). I've got a purple cone flower and about fifty feet of canna lilies. They're just poking through the warm soil, but by mid summer, they'll stand five feet tall crowned with giant flowing red blooms.

I've potted a red geranium in a hanging basket next to the garden gate, and along the sidewalk in the back yard, there is a mixture of red begonias (in the sun) and red New Guinea impatiens (in the shade). In the front yard, I potted several gerberas. And, of course, there are a number of petunias in various hues of purple and red.

My most frustrating flowers, though, have been the dahlias. Last year I purchased some incredible dahlias and planted them in the front yard. They loved the southern exposure and bloomed all summer long. I dug up the bulbs and replanted them this spring, but they've been slow to come on. They're just now breaking the surface of the soil. Who knows when they'll begin blooming.

My horticultural endeavors remind me of several truths.

• Not every flower grows at the same pace. Neither do people. I've seen some folks bloom right away. Others take time and patience. Often it is those who take the most time who seem to bloom the longest and brightest - if I'm patient enough to stick around to see it.
• Conditions need to be right. It takes the right plant in the right soil with the right light, moisture, and fertilizer to get the really big blooms. Subtract any one of those ingredients, and the result ranges somewhere between disappointment and failure. I wonder if I am too quick to judge a person's failure to blossom when I really need to pay more attention to where and how they're "planted"?
• Some plants are more fragile than others. My perennials - the knautia, euphorbia, day lily and black-eyed susan - can remain planted through our harsh winters, no problem. But my canna lilies will rot in the ground if I don't get them out by Thanksgiving. They've got to winter over in the basement and be planted again in the spring if I expect a summer color spectacular. Some people are more fragile, too. Perhaps I need to be a more gentle with some folks.
• A world without flowers is a dreary world indeed, and so is a world without people. No wonder God said, "It is not good for man to be alone." He knew we need other folks in our lives to provide color and contrast.
• Set it and forget it only works for Ron Popeil. I can set my Ronco Rotisserie and forget it, but my flowers will need my attention all summer long if they're going to bloom. People need attention, too.

There are a lot of other lessons I could learn from my flower beds, I'm sure. Stop by some time, and I'll show you around my color parade. Maybe we'll both learn something.

The Arab View of Baptism

I am reading Dore Gold's book The Fight for Jerusalem. It is an interesting account of the importance of the Holy City, both throughout history and in the current political context.

Tucked within the book (on pg. 153) I discovered something interesting about baptism. In 1949

. . . Israelis were denied access to both the Western Wall and the Mount of Olives during the entire period of the Jordanian rule. Jordan further barred non-Israeli Jews from the Western Wall, demanding that tourists present a certificate of baptism before a visa would be granted.

Apparently Jordanian Muslims understand what some of us don't get. It is our baptism which signifies that we are Christians. Interesting . . .

Norwegian Helpdesk

A tough call

My son isn't speaking to me right now.

At last night's ballgame his team was down 7-4 going into the bottom of the last inning. I was umpiring the bases (how did that happen, I ask myself). His teammates mounted a two-out rally to close the gap to 7-6.

Little Javey Moreno came to the plate and hit a hard shot to the shortstop. Javey put on the speed and hot-footed it to first while the shortstop struggled to field the grounder. He gathered it in and fired it to first, but over the first baseman's head. Javey sped on to second base.

Just one problem. He never touched first. Nobody saw it but me. The visiting manager and coaches were looking at the overthrown ball bouncing down the right field fence. The home team was looking at Javey running to second. I saw it, though. Hence the tough call.

As soon as Javey touched second base I knew that he, by all rights, should be rung up. What to do? Call him out and the game is over. My son's team loses. I am a goat. Stay silent and . . . well . . . nobody saw. No harm, no foul, right?

Wrong.

It wasn't any fun, but I made the tough call and punched Javey out. Game over.

It's not always easy to do the right thing. It's never easy when you know it will hurt the people you love, especially when nobody will know if you did the right thing or not. But, as I told my son after the game, your integrity is worth more than a tally in the win column.

One thing's for sure. If Javey ever plays Major League Baseball, I'll bet he never misses first base again. And with a name like Javey Moreno, he just might make "the show."

Not in my Wildest Dreamz

Survivor on CBS provided a great teaching opportunity for my three children tonight. Last week Yau-Man won a new Ford F350 Super Duty pickup truck. He used the truck as a bargaining chip with Dreamz. The deal: in exchange for Yau giving Dreamz the truck, when they reached the final four, if Dreamz won immunity he would give the immunity necklace to Yau-Man. Dreamz gave Yau his word and got his truck.

Fast forward to tonight. Dreamz won immunity, and then completely welshed on the deal. Yau was sent packing.

By doing so, Dreamz earned a shot at a million bucks. Of course, the price for his one-in-three shot at the big bucks was his integrity. With tears in his eyes, Dreamz looked into the camera and said how important it was for his young son to see his daddy on national television keeping his word.

Well, he didn't keep his word. He may have a new truck. He may even win the million dollars. But for my money, I would rather be an empty handed Yau than an underhanded Dreamz.

Little League Loudmouths

It's springtime again in Butler, Indiana. On a humid night I can hear the call of the umpire wafting across the railroad tracks as little leaguers stare knock-kneed at their classmates firing baseballs in their general direction.

My son is playing again this year - had a big hit the other night in fact. I am umpiring, too. That seems only fair as many times as I've hollered at the guys in blue over the years. Simply put, we spend a lot of time at Hathaway Park.

Last night I attended my friend Scott's game. He is the coach of the Butler Angels. His son, Tristan, is their shortstop. They were playing a team from another town. I arrived late. The home team was at bat. As I was pedaling my bike toward the diamond, I was surprised at the unusually loud noise coming from the park. The 'hey batta batta" seemed particularly strong.

Parking my bike, I discovered why. The kids in their blue unies out on defense were doing their best impersonation of Ferris Bueler's classic "swing batta." But so were the parents. And the parent's sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. I think I even saw a Schwann's man getting into it.

The Butler parents were disturbed by this. My buddy's wife was about to go off. She told me, "Go say something to them!" Sure, you know me, Mr. Non-confrontational.

I walked over among the hollering hoard and leaned against the backstop. The ring leader looked to be about seventeen. He was doing his best impersonation of an up-and-coming meth dealer - silver chain with a dollar sign medallion, straight-brimmed Yankee hat on cock-eyed, shirt down to his knees. You've probably seen him before hanging out at the corner stop-and-rob looking for chicks with driver's licenses.

I stood taking it all in for several minutes. A mother ambled over my way and leaned into the backstop because, apparently, yelling at someone else's kid from twenty feet away wasn't nearly effective enough. I smiled at her. She smiled back. "I've never seen anything like this," I said. "Really?" she responded. "No, this is a first for me." "You mean this is your first baseball game?" "No, I've been coming to little league games for twenty years." I had her hooked. Now she was interested.

Her brow was knotted in curiosity. "What then?" "Well," I said with a smile, "I've just never been to a baseball game where the fans heckled ten and eleven year-olds. I mean, I've heard adults yell at umpires, and coaches, but I've never actually seen grown people scream at someone else's little boy to strike out." (I was still smiling, by the way.)

"We like to support our kids," she ventured cautiously. "I think that's great, but why does supporting your kid mean tearing down another?" As if in answer to my question she tossed her head back to indicate the howling mob, "But they're all my family."

Okay. . .

"See the little guy out there at second? He's my son and we're all here to support him." I smiled again. "I think that's great. I'm sure he appreciates it."

The inning ended and I jogged to center field to turn the lights on.

Our team came to bat the next inning and put up four runs. The heckling stopped. What common sense and casual cajoling couldn't accomplish the scoreboard finally did.

Coach Tony Dungy on the National Day of Prayer