A month of Advent ....ure

If you would have told me November the 1st what our December was going to be like, I would not have believed you.

Lewis came home from the hospital a few days before Christmas. 9 days and approximately 23 lbs later,  Lewis is attempting to piece together his post-graduate life. He has had one post-hospital visit with the doctor saying he is on the mend. As the doctor said, he was one sick kid.

Papa Jerry, we hope, is spending his last night in the Forsyth hospital tonight, Sunday, December 30. The doctor and caseworker gave dad the go-ahead to leave the hospital on Monday with a 4-6 week prescription of formal rehabilitation. His insurance/doctors have chosen Bermuda Commons in Advance, NC for this next chapter.

On the last Monday of November, mom called me indicating that dad could not get up and she was unable to get him mobile. I arrived and we decided to call 911. That was the beginning of his month-long stay at Novant Forsyth Hospital. He was diagnosed with some type of infection that we believe was causing communication problems between his legs and brain. He simply couldn't walk. Soon after entering the hospital, he was diagnosed with Clostridium difficile (klos-TRID-e-um dif-uh-SEEL), often called C. difficile or C. diff,  which is a bacterium that can cause symptoms ranging from diarrhea to life-threatening inflammation of the colon. (Source*Mayo clinic)

This began a month of terrible diarrhea.  When I say terrible, I mean terrible. The ordeal caused weakness, significant nutritional interruption, and weight loss. In fact, his entry weight in November was 250 lbs. Today he weighed in at 215 lbs; a 35 lbs loss. Needless to say, he is weak. His body has been on shut down because of lack of hydration, food and no exercise. The nurses have only been able to get him out of the bed a few times to sit up in the hospital chair in this room. His room has been a prison. He has been stationary in a 4x6 bed for the entire month.

All of that being said, we are excited to say his Cdiff has been controlled; his desire to eat has been regained. The doctor told him, "if you want to get out of the hospital, you're going to have to eat". In an effort to awaken his taste buds, I asked the doctor if an old fashion honey bun would be ok, he said, "yes, eat 8 if you want". I asked dad if he would eat one, he said "yes'. So Friday afternoon, I fed him an old fashion honey bun like he had eaten 100s of times at my grandmother's country store. He ate it all. Saturday and today he continued to eat more normal including a sausage biscuit, Arby's roast beef, and other common food staples.

Regarding rehab: The doctor said to expect 4-6 weeks at Bermuda Commons. He will receive approximately 2 one hour strength training daily.  We'll just call this chapter 2 of his medical story.

Two final comments:

Mom and the family have had many reach out to us via social media, calls, cards, and socially. Dad told me many times he has felt the prayers of so many. We will never be able to thank each of you personally, but please know that dad, mom, and the family appreciate the sincere outpouring of our friends. The phone calls, post, and visits have been relayed to him; every one of them.

A Day in Montana - 2015

Regarding my mother. Daily, she has been at the hospital, spending approximately 8 hours each day, 7 days a week being by dad's side. She has been his advocate, soul mate, and life love. Her dedication to him in his absolute time of need has been heroic and beautiful. Mom may be a small little lady, but she is tough as nails. Thank you for your example of a Godly wife. Better or worse gave you a little worse this month. Your example is powerful.



Christmas is over. December was the beginning of Advent, the period beginning four Sundays before  Christmas and observed by some Christians as a season of prayer and fasting. Many of you in your own personal way used this season for celebration of the incarnation of Christ. I witnessed the embodiment of the deity of God through Christ through so many people. The prayers were felt, they were received. My family's personal advent became an adventure. It was one that I would have rather not gone through. But despite the fear, the pain, and interruption of our lives, I know that something good has come from all of this. All things work together for good for those that love the Lord. Praise God!

The fog lifted this morning.

First off, I appreciate the way so many of you have reached out to Lewis thru Elizabeth & me.

This morning at 7 AM, the nurses came to pick Lewis up to take him down 8 flights to the operating room. He was so thirsty, all the whole time brave. They cut his water intake off at 10 the previous night. The OR prep team explained the procedure and Lewis said, “lets get this done”.

Both his grandmothers, Liz and I waited as we watched the monitor identifying “prepping, in “surgery” and “recovering”. As all people waiting for a love ones to get out of surgery, we anxiously waited for the OR waiting room phone to ring. I hurried over to answer and they ask for someone in the Swicegood family; I said “speaking” . The nurse said "the surgery went well, and his first words were I want my mom”. Only one person could go back. Twenty four years old or 10, a boy wants his mom when he's in a pickle.

The doctor said that he accomplished his goal by cleaning the infection surrounding his left lung and inserting two new larger tubes. Currently, the tubes are secreting blood like fluid from his chest. They have given him a button for the pain, and like Lewis, he is trying not to use it. When he heard me talking in the room, with his eyes closed, he slowly reached out with his hand and squeezed my hand. That felt like a waterfall!

I showed up this morning at the hospital around 5:45AM. Liz had spent the night. It was foggy, but as the sun breached the horizon, the fog began to lift. I took a picture of the sun rising near his room. The scripture in Lamentations came to my mind “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:22-23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The surgeon said the tubes will probably come out towards the end of the week. We see that as good news.

On a not so happy note, my dad is doing no better. I am seeing no progress. We continue to ask for your prayers!

The Storm is still raging....

Despite Lewis' energy last evening, our hopes that he is getting better was diminished this morning with a visit from the surgical team doctor.

Inside of Lewis' left lungs is a spider web, mesh like infection called "loculated capsules". The strong antibiotics they have him on is no match for this infection. So, in the morning (time unknown), he will be going into surgery to have these things removed from his left lung.

Last night, in hopes of seeing himself coming home the week before Christmas, he wanted to be cleaned up; so, I gave him a shave. He also wanted to walk down the hall, so they hooked up the suction devices to a battery and the mobility nurse Kim (who was so helpful) walked him down the hall. She asked, "how far do you walk to go", and like Lewis, he said "my goal is to the outside window and back". He made it and was so happy
to get out of the bed.

This past summer, the two of us were on the Missouri River in Montana. Suddenly, an electrical storm came on top of us. Lightening was every where. We were soaked. Our boat rowed hurriedly to a bridge to seek shelter. While I was unnerved, the sight of that bridge overhang gave me confidence. We are now looking at another bridge overhang and its coming tomorrow. I can't wait to be back on that river with Lewis this summer and praise God together about that storm and this one.

Thank you for your prayers

Praise God in the Storm

I'm sure if you're like me,  music seems to always show up in your mind during life events and the memories of them. Summer time, Sweet Home Alabama, Christmas, Josh Groban's O Holy Night, and the funny one, My first year of dating Elizabeth, Caribbean Queen by Billy Ocean.. " now we're sharing the same dream". I guess she was my queen.

But tonight, sitting in a hospital room with my son, and my father directly above him on the 9th floor at Forsyth Hospital, the chorus to the Casting Crown's song, Praise you in the Storm has been on my mind.  
And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands, For You are who You are no matter where I am, And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand, You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm

Fun times in Craig, Montana

Don't we take life for granted! Three weeks ago we were talking about final exams, caps, and gowns. The college milestone was coming upon us.

The night before Liz and I were planning on driving to Wake Forest to see our son graduate, we got a call from him saying he was going to the ER. It was 9:30 in the evening. I honestly discounted his complaint of pain thinking it was a gym rat muscle issue. We got to the hospital at midnight, only 11 hours before the commencement exercise. The doctor in the ER told us that Lewis had Pneumonia. I said "you're kidding". She gave him some antibiotics and we found a hotel at 1 AM and camped out in north Raleigh. Lewis' pain level was 9 as he described. 6 hours later we all got up and Lewis struggled across stage to receive his Bachelor of Arts in History.

He came home to only take his prescribed medicine and maintain a 102 temperature. Saturday night  we got snow and being the south, roads were impassable until Tuesday. I called the doctor's office thinking he needed a visit and because of the weather, I couldn't get thru Monday or Tuesday morning. At 11 on Tuesday, by what I think was providence of God, I ran into Dr. Joel Edwards. I explained what was going on. He said, "bring him to the office in one hour". We did that and discovered that his left lung was basically depleted of any air and full of infection. From there they sent us to Novant/Clemmons Hospital to do a CT scan, and immediately sent us to Forsyth Hospital for admission. Within 10 hours, they took Lewis into the OR and placed two tubes into his chest. Since then they have been draining his left lung of the "bad stuff".  This evening, they suggested that he may be here thru Christmas. He has leg compressions on, heart monitor, oxygen connected to his nose, two tubes that are between his ribs into his left lung, and two IVs in his arms.

Two observations:

First, Lewis has been so strong; brave. He hasn't complained. Frustrated, yes, but complained, no.
Every time the doctors come into the room to monitor, he listens and wants to know the facts. I know he's my boy, but I have witnessed a man.

Second, Liz and I have been pretty strong too. however, yesterday was significantly emotional. I had friends calling from home, Montana, California, Virginia and Tennessee. Social media created essentially a prayer meeting over Lewis. My bible fellowship group leader Jerry Morrison, called, visited and text me multiple times. On social media,  as I read the kindness of people's inquiries, prayer offerings and such, I can't explain to you the humbling nature of knowing my son and family are the recipients of such goodness. It all came to a climax when a high school friend, Karl Naylor posted on Facebook that he was praying for my son. We haven't seen each other in years, I mean probably 20 years, but he wanted to pray for what my son was going through. I don't know what it was about that specific post, but it was right before Lewis was being taken back to have the tubes placed in this chest. It broke me down (in a way I needed to be). His and all the other post was the switch for me to realize I'm not in control here; God has this, no matter what. 

So, I'll praise God in this storm. 

Don’t always go with your expectations!

Expectations sometimes show up because of years of mis-thought.

Recently, I was invited to speak on behalf of the National Auctioneers Association in Boston. It was the New England Auctioneers Association. As I prepared for the weekend event, the thought entered my mind, “how would these New Englanders welcome a southerner. I had never visited the Boston area and was coming with a few preconceived notions. As a southerner, we pride ourselves on being gentil (or at least we think we are). Maybe even a little more patient than the folks in cities like Boston who apply the horn a little more often than we do down south. In fact, if you visit my hometown and are from the northeast, you would probably begin to ask yourself, “why does every car driver wave at me”. It’s the truth, we wave at strangers driving in the opposite direction. I guess its just a kind gesture of recognition or maybe not wanting to be perceived as stuck up.

So, Elizabeth and I landed at Logan airport. I made my way to National Car Rental. The red head behind the desk was seated very close to the corner of her kiosk next to the competition. I asked “Is this National?” She replied, “you see the green don’t you?”.  I said to myself, “oh boy, my preconceived notions are coming true”.  So we got into our little bitty compact, and I mean compact vehicle that would probably fit into the bed of my Duramax, and began to drive. We entered the first tunnel that was probably 5 lanes wide and found ourselves in the wrong lane. I thought to myself, these people will never let me into the right lane, but lo and behold, they did. I even got a smile and a wave.

We visited the Kennedy Museum that day and enjoyed raw oysters at Union Oyster Bar. The shucker (shucka) was amazing. We had a great conversation. I even caught myself saying “Lob sta” and “butta” . But don’t ask for saltines with your Oysters….. they don’t eat’em that way.

We made that first night to our destination and I reviewed my Power Point for the presentation I would be giving the next day. I was more anxious about my accent than I was about the content. The next day, I was greeted by one of the leaders, Nichole Pirro. We had never met, but quickly we made friendship.  Then I ran into Sara Adams who originally invited me. She too made for quick friendship. I told Elizabeth, I really like these guys. Then Michael Chambers,  who I competed against in the International Auctioneer Championship a fews years back came in a greeted me. Then I began to feel right at home!

I gave my two hour presentation and felt warmly received. In fact I think we all had fun! Granted, I had to translate a few of my words, all in all, I thought it went great. We all had auctioneering in common, but on a human level, I realized that territorial prejudices probably exist because of the lack of communication. Don’t get me wrong…I’m not saying I was prejudice against New Englanders, but I didn’t expect such a friendly group. A few of us enjoyed a late afternoon dinner at a pub in Salem, Massachusetts. It was a great way to end a weekend with new friends. The great thing is, Elizabeth and I have new friends and we love New England. Now don’t get me wrong, I still think they talk a little funny, but heck, one of the people in my presentation used the word “hick” in referring to my southern dialect.

In this world of tribalism as the political pundits call it, our trip reinforced in my heart that we are one great bid country filled with unique and good people. We are Americans. The only thing that separates us is a few miles and a few rivers. Accents and heck, even political views should not keep us from finding value in each other.

How We View Our Historic Enemies. How a German Cemetery Changed Me.

A Visit To La Cambe German War Cemetery

In 2012, our family decided to travel to Paris and then be transported to Normandy, the site of incredible American drama. It was on the shores of the famed D-Day beach called Utah, where we placed a photo of Frank Couch, an American purple heart recipient who wore German delivered shrapnel in his body until he was laid to rest in the sloped cemetery of Jericho Church of Christ in Mocksville, NC.

On this trip, internal patriotism was pounding in our chest. We visited the St. James Cemetery and listened to the chimes of the church bells as we surveyed the crosses and stars of David in rows upon rows. Later, tears accrued upon each of our cheeks as we visited the Colleville-sur-Mer cemetery where 9,387 American souls are buried. An insignificant bluff overlooking Omaha beach made significant by heroes who were born there by their blood and where the future of so many young American’s ended.  As an American, the emotions are hard to describe. 

We had hired a tour guide for the entire experience.  He took us to the Ranger made famous cliff called Point du Hoc.  At the top of the 100 feet cliff was a German army fortification with concrete casemates and gun pits.

As we left these two metes and bounds of American death and victory, our tour guide took us to La Cambe German war cemetery. When he told us, we were going to a German cemetery, I quietly asked myself “why”. 

When we left the vehicle and entered the grounds, it was quiet. There was a monument on a great mound and statue honoring the dead of German soldiers; soldiers that killed and wounded American soldiers. We walked

Located in Bayeux, France. Contains in excess of 21,000 German military personnel of World War II,  maintained and managed by the German War Graves Commission.

silently down the rows just as we did at Colleville-sur-Mer. A transformation of thought came over me as I thought about these German soldiers, some Nazis, others who were simple soldiers like my good friend Frank, loyal to the Motherland. Emotions of hate, anger, and bitterness began to soften. It was divine what the Allies accomplish, not only for the interned Jews, but the entire world from future tyranny.  

The experience created in my heart a clearer understanding of history and the players in it. History, like a moment in time, is concreted in the past. It is typically not black and white. It is complex, layered with many narratives and ideologies. This visit unpeeled a layer for me.

I didn’t celebrate the statues or grave markers as I left La Cambe German war cemetery, but I did leave with a perspective of looking through the eyes of a common German soldier. I’m glad we took this detour of the American path to victory! The German soldier’s life and history are concreted in this cemetery; they served a lost cause, they served wrong cause.

PS: to be clear, what the collective German Army did to the Jewish population was beyond terrible. Please don't read into this any endorsement of their cause whatsoever. 

Are you listening to me, I said NO

The Answer is NO

There are many reasons to go to church, most importantly to give God his glory. But every now and then, you hear things, you learn things that have an impact on your life. Today was one of them.

A Morrison Bible fellowship friend, Gary Baldwin quoted a past pastor by the Name of Mark Corts, former pastor of Calvary Baptist Church who said, “I challenge you to say “No” to something at least once a day”. Later in the afternoon, I began to think about that profound idea. We live in a luxurious society where “yes” is preached to us constantly. “Yes” you need a better car, “yes” you need a larger house, “yes” you need those designer clothes, “yes” you need the iPhone X (guilty, kind of, I have the 8). All of those things are good, but so often we turn good things into bad things. Just look at our waist lines.

 “Yes” is certainly important as I’m glad my wife said it to me many years ago. But think about the times we said “Yes” in our life and the consequences that followed them. Consider the internal moments we’ve wanted to fight with our spouse, and the moment we said “Yes. I’m going to release those angry words” ….if only we’d said “No”. I thought about the many times I have said “Yes” when I should have said “No’. It made me think of the trajectory that the word “Yes” has the ability to make. Simple decisions that five years down the road you wish you’d said “No”. 

 
It’s all about self discipline!

The Exercise of saying “No” is something I’m going to consciously attempt to reflect on this week. If nothing else, the practice will at least make me stand at the cross road of decision and make a slow wise choice. Who knows, I might even lose 10 pounds.

The power to direct, delight or destroy!

Jerry Morrison summed up a powerful message about the tongue! I fall short very often. However, I hope that when people hear my name, or your name, they think positive things rather than words like sarcastic, self centered talker, etc. Listen to what Jerry has to say about the part of your body that offers life or death.

Travel decisions....

Robert Frost wrote about travel. In his most famous piece, “Road not taken”, he ended by saying “I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”


Writing this on Delta getting ready to leave a conference I attended in Jacksonville, FL, my mind is fast forwarding to another jet I’ll be boarding this next Wednesday.  I have traveled many places and I can say they were fun. Some more exciting than others. But like Frost, this Wednesday I’ll be traveling down a road that is not traveled so much. Unlike the crowded beaches of the east coast (which I dearly love) or even the Appalachian Mountains that I sit at the base of in the foothills, Montana takes me to a place of solitude that has made all the difference to me. Waking up at the base of the Elkhorn Mountains lookin up at its 9000 feet summits, then looking to the river that Lewis & Clark traversed years after Jefferson said Go West to watching the eagle soar along the banks of long written about rivers.

What is it about the quiet fall of the waters on the Missouri with canyons on each side of your boat enveloping you physically and even spiritually as you realize that only a divine creator could use his brush strokes to make something so significant. It’s hard to describe how the snow-melt waters of the Dearborn River intersect with the might MO. While this road has taken me to a peaceful place over and over, the excitement that comes with a fly line that goes from needing mending to briskly leaving your float boat with the amazing colorful rainbow or brown on the end of your line.

Montana is less traveled than the average place to vacation. But the views, the waters, the mountains, and the friends Ive made have made all the difference. So with a sigh, as I prepare to go back to Montana, I can say, this incredible state “has made all the difference” to me.

It was very quiet

The power of quiet!

I have often heard in church “Be still and know that I am God”.

As an extrovert who is charged by activity, being still is probably one of the hardest things to accomplish. But this morning, in the quiet of a Charleston, SC hotel, I sat on an chase lounge, and from about 5:45-6:30 am, I didn’t turn on the TV, I didn’t hear text messages beeping, and there was little to no traffic noise outside. Elizabeth was in dreamland and I just sat there quietly and silently spoke to myself and heard the quietness of God in the room.

All is quiet

Our generation probably more than any other, is challenged with noise: good and bad. Our phones are glued to our bodies. They are used for talking, listening to music, books and etc. We are addicted to TV. We proudly talk about binge watching Netflix shows. When we wake, we turn on the news. As we get in our vehicles, we turn on the radio. But this morning, the soundtrack of my life was simply silence.

Meditation? I don’t know. I just sat there. But the experience seemed to help me organize all of my priorities into an orderly list. It was as though life was in slow motion. And for a guy who seems to be in pretty fast motion everyday…..it was good.

I might have found something here. The sound of silence.

Thomas Jefferson Randolph....right here in Davie County!!

Thomas Jefferson was 6'2'. Jeff towered over me.

Since we sold the estate of Andre the Giant in Ellerbe, North Carolina, I thought that would be our celebrity of the decade transaction. But recently Ashton & Elizabeth  took a conventional listing call. The usual took place, comp searches, sharing of our marketing plan, etc. Everything was typical until Elizabeth asked the client to give her his full name. He said, sure, Thomas Jefferson Randolph VIII. She kept writing and said, Thomas Jefferson....the eighth?? He said yes, I am the 8^th descendant from Thomas Jefferson. By the way…. You can call him “Jeff."

America's third president, Thomas Jefferson married Martha Skelton and of their six children only two girls made it to adulthood. Their first born child was Martha Jefferson who later married Thomas Mann Randolph. 8 generations down the line enters Thomas Jefferson “Jeff” Randolph.

Thomas Jefferson

Martha Jefferson

Jeff is selling his house in Davie County, NC to serve a church in South Carolina. He and his wife Sarah have a beautiful baby girl named Lydia.

If you know me, you’ll know I love history. So meeting Jeff and Sarah was really neat. Ironically, Elizabeth and I had just visited Monticello this past fall so Elizabeth and Jeff had much to talk about that day. This is his family's estate and where his family convenes for reunions. He and his wife both have a spot reserved in the family cemetery at beautiful Monticello where Thomas Jefferson and his decedents are laid to rest.

After we met, I thought….wow!! An actual descendant of Thomas Jefferson, an American founding father who was the principal author of the Declaration of Independence and President from 1801 to 1809.

President Jefferson graduated from the College of William & Mary in Virginia. He had a brief law practice. Two years into his presidency, Jefferson convinced Congress to fund an expedition through the Louisiana territory to the Pacific Ocean. In 1803, Jefferson commissioned the Corps of Discovery, and named U.S. Army Captain Meriwether Lewis its leader. Lewis selected William Clark as second in command. We love the story of Lewis & Clark and have followed much of their travels in our own adventures to Montana, along the banks of the wide Missouri River.

Jefferson’s last days were at Monticello where he died on July 4, 1826. I thought this was almost like divine fate for a founding father to leave this earth on independence day. On our tour, we saw the very bed in which he drew his last breath.

We appreciate Jeff and Sarah placing their trust in our firm to sell their most valuable asset. While their past is written about and opined by countless historians all having their own biases, I honor them for their unique heritage. But the one thing I walked away with is despite the celebrity and fame of their past, these are two young people who I would call salt of the earth.

PS: If you haven’t visited Monticello….it's worth the trip!!

Holy, Holy, Holy Anticipation

You know, the anticipation of trips are almost as much fun as the trips themselves.

For about 6 months, Elizabeth, Lewis (our son) and I have been anxiously awaiting this day.  When Elizabeth and I were in the Holy Lands in 2012, we told each other, "we WILL bring our children here."  Now it's Lewis' turn.

Now, getting ready to board a Lufthansa airplane headed first to Munich, and then on to Tel Aviv where we will arrive early Wednesday Morning.

Packed and ready to go

We will ride down the Mifrats Shlomo Promenade to the old city of Jaffa. More commonly referred to in the English bible as Joppa,  it is the oldest part of Tel Aviv -Yafo. It was an ancient Mediterranean port. The most famous biblical story there is about Jonah, who was reluctantly called to preach and was swallowed by a big fish. The area is also known for stories about Solomon and Peter.  Consider reading in the New Testament Acts 9:36-43 to read about the charitable lady name "Dorcas" It was there that Peter performed the miracle of bringing her back to life.

If you're following, you'll probably see my gray & orange hat with a star and gavel. It was a gift from my friends at Bidwrangler. They are my auction software bidding platform company. They have been a great partnership on my digital journey to make auctions as easy as a click. So, you'll probably see my  hashtag #Bidwranglerjourney . I wanted them in some small way to enjoy my journey as they have been a part of mine.

Shalom for now

Saying goodbye to a loyal friend

It was a cold winter afternoon when we picked up our new found friend Zoe. With puppy breath and a sleek chocolate coat, Liz and I took her home with the expectations of an exciting December  morning. Our kids Ashton & Lewis received the puppy as a Christmas gift at their grandparents house. I am certain 14 years later, its the only present they remember getting that year.

One of our Appalachian Trail Journeys

Elizabeth, put Zoe into full training mode which the results showed up the rest of her life. Zoe walked with me on a few Appalachian Trail journeys. She followed Elizabeth and I up and down Oak Meadow lane as we attempted our health walks. Many times, we would walk on to the busier Ratledge Road, we would tell her to “Stay”, we would walk a mile or two, and when we returned, she would be sitting there just waiting for us.  She shadowed me and my horse on our rides around the farm. On good days and bad, she was there to greet us as we came home.

After the trail rest.

She was there at the prom pictures, birthdays and cold Christmas mornings. On my daughters wedding day, she greeted all the guest at our house. Lewis, our son, treated Zoe like his on. She wasn’t a guard dog, although now my heart needs guarding.

It is our time to say goodbye. Her health is poor and she is no longer eating. Her body is frail. On this cool Friday morning, Elizabeth and I made the decision she doesn’t need to suffer any longer.

Zoe was loyal. She watched our family grow. In some small way, she raised us. Today, I am functioning with a broken heart, but tomorrow, I will walk with memories that only a man and a dog can create.

Donkey thoughts

This friend lives down the road from me.  I passed him today and noticed his lack of might and his diminutive stature. Unlike a mighty dutch warm blood, this small little donkey stood up against the barbed wire fence with very little movement. 

Used in many cow pastures to protect young calves from the blood thirsty coyotes, they serve a great purpose in herd development. 

So, on this week, two millenniums ago, Jesus Christ entered the city of Jerusalem on a donkey much like my friend. Walking along the cobble stoned streets in what was called the triumphal entry. This story, a classic example of why we are humans and He is God. I’m not sure, but I think If I'd been God, I would have shown a little more muscle than a small little donkey. Maybe the Clydesdales. Possibly the grand wagon that they pull, minus the logos. ;-). But then again, knowing that crucifixion was imminent, would I even have gone to Jerusalem. Probably not.

I’m not sure of my friends name, but I appreciate him shading himself along the barbed wire fence this morning. He took my mind to exactly where it needed to be this week. 

Zechariah 9:9:

Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Am I the only one that has this effect

Can you imagine life without the art of music? Consider the movie Star Wars with the epic opener by the great composer John Williams. Or Mark Isham, who described with notes the Montana of Norman Maclean's youth.  So powerful, you can hear the music and it takes you there.

Or is it just me?

Most all places have an anthem of some kind in my mind. Like Boston's "More than a Feeling" that takes me to a cool fall afternoon where I was falling in love with Elizabeth. Over and over we listened to that incredible rock piece. Or 1984, Myrtle Beach listening to Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen".

I think that is one of the things that God created in the human. Our ears connect to our mind, triangulated with our heart to form an emotion that only music can make. It happened to me when I pulled pieces of Baroque music together to help create the holiness of that special day in my life on March 17, 1989.

And how could you talk about music and not address the music of praise and adoration to the One who gifted so many with the ability to play, sing and write music, and who gifted all of us with the opportunity to enjoy it. I grew up in a church where great pride was placed on their a cappella style of gospel singing. Even today, I occasionally find myself humming or even quietly singing "My hope is built on nothing less of Jesus blood and righteousness."

My iTunes account and Amazon music is filled with a variety of music. There is music that I have for celebration, and music to calm my melancholy spirit.  I am moved by the great works of Bach, and can even tap my feet to Bruno Mars.

To say my taste are eclectic is an understatement. But I'm glad God gave me, gave us, music. It is comforting to the soul. Its like a brush that paints a three dimensional picture of life. Like the movies I mentioned above, music has a way of displacing you for the moment and taking you there.

As a sample, I'll take you to one of my favorite places that music takes me to.... Montana! Where does this music take you? Click above

What's in a name?

If you've been to the farm, you'll notice a small granite placard on our brick entrance column. We built the columns the year we built our house. I called Carl Lambert, the local funeral home director and asked him to have a tombstone company create an insert in the column. It says "Ellafield, Est. 2000" and  " as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord".

So what's in a name? If you grew up in the Jericho-Hardison community, you would recognize the name "Ella".  It was my paternal grandmother. Essentially, I was born into her world as she lived with my mom and dad from the time I was born. In the day, Ms. Ella, as she was called by all,  ran the little country store on the corner of Jericho Church Road and Buck Seaford Road.  I could write and endless blog on life at the country store, but this one is about names.

Unembarrassed,  I will share with you a short story about a gift.

A simple woman, Ms. Ella, was frugal. After Liz and  I were married, we lived in a small rental property on Deadmon Road in Mocksville. In her humble way, she gave us an envelope one time with a gift of $5,000.  This was at a time we were figuring each month how we would make the checkbook stay in the black from month to month. Along with this gift, she told us her desire was for us to use this towards a house. So, soon after, we purchased a property on Jericho Road. We decided to borrow money from Mocksville Savings & Loan, using the  $5,000 as a down payment to satisfy the bank. Both of our kids were born and experienced their first of many things in that house. We took care of that property and within 4 years, we sold it and built a larger home on a larger piece of property. But in our dreams, we wanted to have acreage, a few horses and cows.  On a whim, we allowed a real estate agent  at our office to show our second house at a price we wouldn't say no to. Well, because of that, we had to say YES, and sold house #2.

So, we took that $5,000 that my grandmother gave us and multiplied it. We multiplied it to the point we were able to build what we called our "dream farm". During the construction, I told Elizabeth I wanted to enjoy and always remember the financial and spiritual blessing Ms. Ella gave to us. So, we named the farm "Ellafield". We moved in in January of 2000.  Because my grandmother knew where true blessings came from, you'll see the inscription "as for me and my house we will serve the Lord".  So, there really is something in a Name.

Grandma, never got to see our little dream come true, But, as March always reminds me of her, I know she would be tickled to see the little granite placard. She would have been 110 on March 20.

World War II Honor Luncheon-Davie County Friday March 23

As a child, I remember being fascinated by the story's of my Uncle Charlie Swicegood on Buck Seaford Road. His hands were wrinkled, the map of his long life you could see in the lines beside his eyes, yet his memory of December 7, 1941 was a clear as day.  As a 12 year old boy, I listened to him intently. He described the horror was yet remembered the resolve in the hearts of America. I feel certain my relationship with him is what caused me to value the American soldier.

For the rest of my life, I read about the war in Europe and the battles of the Pacific. When I visited Arlington the first time, all the years of interest became like cured concrete. My resolve to thank American soldiers became my commitment. Later, when I took my family to the beaches of Normandy, France, the pounding rising tide rose in me a deeper appreciation for the blood, the sacrifice that at one time laid upon these sands.

In 2011, when I was asked to serve on the board of directors for the Triad Flight of Honor,  I was eager to help take the 1300 World War II veterans to see their monument; a monument that was built
 59 years after victory was declared. 

One of the off shoots of the Triad Flight of Honor was a luncheon honoring the WWII guys/gals. Friday, March 23, 2018, we will have once again, a small thank you to these guys. A  BBQ sandwich and fries from Deanos BBQ in Mocksville is a simple way, in the twilight of their lives to say thank you.

If you know of a World War II veteran, please bring them to have lunch with their fellow servants. Lunch will be provided for the veteran and their guardian.

Expect to see heroes. Expect to get a lump in your throat. Expect to take away a memory you will talk about 20 years from now when you will say, I sat among heroes who helped save America.

A special thank you to Dwight Sparks and the Davie County Enterprise. They have graciously sponsored each event. Also to Kathy Miller, with One Shot Photography who will be present at the event with camera in hand.

Thoughts on the Graham repose

Business had us in south Charlotte today. Our meeting ended early at 11 so we decided to enjoy a little Bucca di Beppo (Italian food). Since we were in the queen city and the Billy Graham repose was in its last day, we decided to visit the Billy Graham Library.

Parking was off of Nation's Ford Road at Samaritan's Purse distribution center. The line was probably 300 people. We were bused over. I had never visited the Library. The atmosphere was  solemn but yet you saw smiles on peoples' faces. The staff at the Billy Graham Library reminded me of Chic-fil-A employees, greeting us and thanking us for visiting. I bet I was thanked 20 times.

Something happened while I was in line that caused me to become uncomfortable. I'm not sure if its my age or the significance of a man who has literally shared the Gospel of Christ to millions. I became a little emotional. I never met Billy Graham, but probably like you, I knew about his celebrity. Celebrity, yet unlike the celebrity that the current generation is use to. Celebrity with humility. Reading the story of his life, and the love of his life made me look at Elizabeth and realize the fact we all know. We're not going to be together forever. One of us will die. That reality probably was part of the emotional serum that caused me to shed a few tears. But then I thought about how they lived a long, loving life and thought about the model they were for their children.

I hope if I live to be 99, my children will look at our marriage and say wow, what a love story. But more importantly, I hope they will say Mom and Dad pointed us to Christ in their  life and marriage.

Billy Graham is gone. He had an impact on a lot of people. I'm glad I was able to participated in some small way the memorial service of a humble servant of God.

It is Done

So often, the work I'm involved in doesn't have immediate gratification. I have weeks, sometimes months of putting the pieces together to a  point we call success. Of course when you have worked hard and cross the finish line, there's not a better feeling.

When spring time shows up however, I begin a few chores that provide me that immediate gratification. Yesterday,  I had 100 pounds of grass seed, 300 pounds of weed & feed and an 8 acre field that needed mowing (that is refined for bush hogging).

While the grass seed doesn't provide that immediate growth, the rows that I walked spreading it does. Walking over brown Bermuda grass, I broadcasted the seed with the exciting expectation of a green yard.  Then, the fertilizer. Once again, the rows that I create helps me see the end of my job circling the house. I know the first rain we have will turn the yard into a growing field over night.

Figuring out what "it is finished" means

Probably the most satisfying immediate gratification I get is found on the tractor. Circling the wide field, getting rid of the old growth, and then seeing the circles getting smaller and smaller. In other words, that first circle is the longest cycle and from that point forward it gets shorter and shorter. Tell me if I'm wrong: when you're making that mowed circle, whether on a tractor or lawn mower, you're doing mental math in your mind, "about ten more circles, about nine more circles". Tim Keller said "All work has dignity because it reflects God’s image in us and also because the material creation we are called to care for is good". While God created the earth and said it was good. I worked in my yard and looked at it and said "it is good".

Yesterday, I worked about 5 hours in the yard and on my tractor. When the day was done, I was dirty and tired. But as I looked at what I had accomplished, I was satisfied. Inside, I said, it is done. Its almost as though I am preparing my yard for the flourishing of Easter. The difference is when I said "it is done", that was only a temporary finish. When Christ said "it is finished" on that first Easter, it truly was finished, his final words on the cross.

I guess that's why God placed in each of our hearts the need to accomplish "things". Work in not a four letter word. Tim Keller in his book Every Good Endeavor said, "According to the Bible, we don’t merely need the money from work to survive; we need the work itself to survive and to live fully human lives."

I am thankful for the ability to work whether it be in my vocation or simply trying to make my yard and pastures look better.  My yard work is only temporarily done, but because of Christ work on the cross, what matters is truly done.

Billy Graham... I believe he would ask you this question.

"Have we lost our hunger?"

Tonight as I watch the tributes to Billy Graham, he was quoted as asking that very question. Over my fifty years, I feel like I have seen the demoralization of the country that I grew up thinking was a Christian Nation.

On reflection, Billy Graham was not only a pastor, but his leadership demonstrated servant-hood. As the scripture in Romans reads "For I am not ashamed of the Gospel". He used every platform he had to make Christ Jesus famous. He enjoyed a 60 year love affair with his childhood sweetheart.

I appreciate how his son Franklin continues his father's legacy and  his grandson Johnathan speaks to churches and groups about how Christ has impacted his life.

Now, as the family prepares his life dedication services, I believe his question for you who read this is "what will you do with Jesus Christ?" As Kathy Lee Gifford said this morning on NBC, we all have a malignancy of the soul, and there's only one way to rid yourself of this cancer.  It's Jesus Christ. What will you do with him?

The Supreme court ruled 7-2 against freedom...wow

I’m a proud American. Our founders created a wonderful nation. Although imperfect, they forged together a diverse group of people and created the experiment we call America. It’s quite amazing. In the continual process of creating this nation, we have had to make a number of course corrections.

Today in a board meeting, I learned of a fascinating fact that hit home to me.  Consider this, in the historic town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, at the corner of Charles and William Street, there is a reminder of America’s tattered past. On this corner lies a stone that is said to be an auction block. This solid piece of rock is where  a person would be placed for observation in front of a bidding public.  Human beings were sold to other human beings for the purpose of work, the purpose of property and for the purpose of being a slave.  Sadly, in this era, it was not looked upon as the horror it is. In fact, it was considered a right. In 1857, Dred Scott who's case went to the 

The Auction Block in Fredericksburg, VA

Supreme court, was a slave seeking his freedom.  His first attempt to go to trial to sue for his freedom was in 1847. Ten years later, after a decade of appeals and court reversals, his case was taken up by the United States Supreme Court. In this infamous case, the court decided that all people of African ancestry, slaves as well as those who were free could never become citizens of the United States and therefore could not sue in federal court. The court also ruled that the federal government did not have the power to prohibit slavery in its territories. Scott, needless to say, remained a slave. The amazing thing is the case was a 7-2 victory for the pro-slavery movement. Slavery supporters believed they had a victory. I'm sure pro-slavery people said, "That settles it, it's the law of the land".

Today, we ask ourselves how could a nation, founded on Christian principles, steer so far off course? The interesting fact about this stone is that it lies in the shadow of the steeple of St. George’s Episcopal Church, the home church of Mary Ball Washington, mother of our first president. In the view of the cross of Christ,  people would gather on Friday for a slave auction and attend church two blocks over on Sunday in good conscience.

But consider this, today, much like slavery of old, a tragedy has been happening under the same guise of “rights” similar to the argument of the  slave holders. It is Abortion. We become uncomfortable when we hear or even use the word. We don’t like it. In fact, many main stream Christian pastors and church leaders, even in my hometown, are afraid to confront it. Are we cowards or have we  just decided to cooperate with secular society. According to the CDC, “In 2014, 652,639 legal induced abortions were reported in the US from 49 reporting areas.* The abortion rate for 2014 was 12.1 abortions per 1,000 women aged 15–44 years, and the abortion ratio was 186 abortions per 1,000 live births.”

Whether your pro-life or pro-choice, these amounts are staggering. Again, notice the white wash on word usage by the names of both camps. Why not just say, "pro-abortion", "anti-abortion"?

Had I lived in the 1800s, I hope, amidst all the backlash, I would have had the courage to say slavery was wrong. By saying that, I would have been kicking against an institution. But thankfully,  there were people who said "No"! In fact, it was the church that awakened the anti-slavery movement; not to mention the brave slaves who sought their freedom.

Well it’s now 2018 and since Roe vs. Wade a case much like the Dred Scott case, which said a mother’s baby in her womb was not a person and therefore not a citizen and therefore without rights. It is estimated that there have been 60,069,971 abortions. Someday in the future, I believe people will read this blog and say, at least he had the courage to stand up against the surge of abortion, despite it being the law of the land since 1973.

We all know someone who may have had an abortion. Many were deceived or uniformed of what they were actually doing. I can only try to understand the emotional burden that must come with such a decision. Those persons will find no judgement, no condemnation from me. Instead, they will hear a message of hope and healing. I'm proud to support a ministry, Salem Pregnancy Care Center that offers programs such as Her Time to Heal.

To my African-American friends, praise God this nation changed and made a course-correction. Your heritage came hard. I admire your ancestors and Dr. King for their insistence on human rights.

**New Hampshire and California do not report abortions statistics.