Reflections

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 ...

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 mu...

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 w...

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 Fligh...