Update on Dad

So it is Day 5.  Still not sure what is going on.  Might be thyroid, infection, heart, kidney, liver, and I am sure might be something else. 
We are praying, stressed, worried, laughing, I am sure we are crying, what thoughts do you not have when you see a loved one in the hospital.  Today has been the most trying one of all.  Dad, went for fluid withdrawal and well his Blood Pressure bottomed out and he almost flat-lined.  I was not there but had a fear come over me that was so strong it was difficult to deal with. Made it to the hospital and he was doing some what better.  Most recent update he has been moved to ICU, so he can be monitored more closely.
The thing is, what does it all mean?  I do not question the man upstairs.  You know they always say God never puts more on you than you can handle. Agreed.  I am sure there is some hidden meaning behind it all.
Here is the thing.  I am not immune to hospital scares, close calls, etc.  But when it becomes someone so near and dear to your heart, someone that you know would do anything for you at anytime if needed, who has provided love and comfort for so many years, etc it becomes difficult to be apart of it all.  He was there for me when I was young and there for me now, but it is so difficult because he is my hero and right now I cannot help the hero get back up. He has fallen.. But there is one good thing about all those hero stories, they usually rise again.  I know God will give him the strength he needs to get back up and conquer the world.
I do not want to appear as selfish because I know so many have lost loved ones as well.  But I am slowly feeling the pain that you have, or have had.  My thoughts are with you and your families as you have dealt with or dealing with the same struggles that face me and my family now.  I have FAITH that GOD has a plan and he will watch over dad. 
We love you dad. 

The Mortal Man

I ask for your prayers as I blog with a heavy heart. 
Tonight I finally witnessed the weakness of a man that I hold dear to my heart.  At roughly 600pm I was contacted by Jetona as she let me know my father was being admitted to the hospital for the first time in his life.  At this time there are no known problems just more precautionary measures being taken by the doctors.
 As I drove home on I-65 the realization that my father is no immortal human being began to set in.  I finally realized that the man I grew up looking up to, the man I longed to be, the man I placed above others, the man I thought was Superman, is nothing more than just that, a human being, he is a man in the truest form. While I have known for all my life that he bleeds, he cries, he gets mad, is happy, gets hurt, sick, etc today brought to the forefront of my mind that at anytime, no matter how powerful, how magical, how indestructible, how unbreakable, how strong, or how super, the truth is we all are prone to the elements of this world (psychologically, physically, emotionally, etc).  My father is by no means perfect (I'll admit it), he is not indestructible, untouchable, he is not superhuman, but in my eyes he was/is.  But while sitting there watching him in that hospital bedroom I realized that one day this will end up possibly being his final destination, as God calls one of his children home.  I sat there and looked at a man who for my 28 years plus has never needed or asked anything from anyone, but I sat there and watched a man that I realized at some point is going to need someone.  My father is 51 years old and I finally saw in his eyes a small bit of fear (though he would never admit to it).  But through the fear, being the strong man that he is, he constantly told me and reassured me that it was going to be ok, that he was going to be fine.  I sat there and wondered how can he be so sure, I found myself telling him the things I have only seen in movies, Dad we need you home, you got to battle through whatever this is, etc.   For many of you who know me you know that I tend to have a big soft side, I tend to get somewhat emotional (ok really emotional).  But tonight I finally realized that he is not invincible, but that he is MORTAL! 

I leave you with the following verse:

Deuteronomy 31:6 ESV / 113 helpful votes

Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.”

Making/Taking Vows

What is a vow? 
In society most of us think of vows as what we do the day we stand up and make a commitment to get married.  This is true.  However, vows are more than just something we do at marriage time.  Making a promise to do something, committing our time, talents, etc to a purpose is making a vow.  So why do we break vows so often?  In my case I tend to make a lot of promises: I'll do the dishes, take out the trash etc.  I usually always put a clause in there but I'll do it in a minute.  Sometimes that minute turns to 15 and sometimes it goes forgotten.  Was it intentionally forgotten, No.  I get side tracked, a lot.  But the point is I committed to doing something so I should just do it.  It's hard to change bad habits. 
As we have been doing to devotion we came across a section called The Magnitude of Vows here are few things I would like to share with you about vows. 
First Numbers 30:2 says When a man makes a vow to the Lord or takes an oath to obligate himself by a pledge, he must not break his word but must do everything he said. 
So in layman's terms, your only as good as your word. 
Second, a marriage perspective: we make commitments to our significant other.  We say we are going to love, obey, cherish, etc.  Some of us take that as a serious commitment and others see it as unfulfilled truths.  But there is one person that takes those vows very serious, God. 
Third, Gods word. If you look back over the Bible and know even just a little His word is not broken.  He sent His son to die for us, Check.   He said that Jesus would arise again, Check.  He told Moses to go to Egypt and to set his people free and in doing so they would be rewarded with the Promise Land, Check.  The Bible is filled with these promises/vows and well He has delivered on all of them.  And these are no little promises might I remind you, these are HUGE. 
So why is it that when we say we are going to do something, when we commit, when we vow. It is so easy to break promises.  Every time we make a promise (to a loved one, to a friend, to work, to God) we are held accountable to those promises.  So let your yes mean yes and your no mean no (Matt 5:37). 
So I task that start by taking is slow and easy, build up our commitments and follow through on them.  If you are married recommit yourself to honor, cherish, from this day on.  If not married commit to yourself that when you say you are going to do it do it. Of course, this doesn't mean things will not happen or come up that requires you to tweak the circumstance.  I look forward to hearing you success stories or difficulties that you might have.  But together with God's assistance we can do this. 
God Bless!

Father's Day Part III

Here are just a few songs that remind me so much of my dad: 

Father's Day Part II

My friend Ron Chilton posted this the other day on his facebook page. I hope you enjoy.  Dad/Father's remember that even on those days that you feel so tired, so worn out, like life is getting you down that we children are storing memories that mean more to us than you ever know. 
here is the link to the video:

http://www.simpletruths.com/spp_TIMEoptin.html
In addition to the link I have posted photos of one of the best days of my life.  It is my wedding day.  I married my best friend that day but more importantly my dad stood up with me as my best man.  I am not sure if he knows how much that meant to me but these photos are of us as he attempted to do a toast. 

I love you Dad. 

Happy Fathers Day

Hello Friends,
It has been awhile.  I am sorry if you have missed reading my post.  Recently, I started back to college, between college, work, life, etc I have neglected my blog.  I will try to get better in the coming days. 
However, today is a great day. Today is Father's Day.  For all of us out there at some point and time in life we have been blessed to have a FATHER (still living, past on, estranged, etc).  We have the Earthly one here and then the greatest of all in Heaven.  So with it being Father's Day, it made me ponder what is a Father?  According to Webster Dictionary

a : a man who has begotten a child; also : sire 3 b capitalized (1) : God1 (2) : the first person of the Trinity

Additional definitions:

1. man who is parent: a man who is the parent of a human being, or a male animal that has produced offspring
2. man acting as parent: a man who brings up and looks after a child as if he were its father
3. man who is ancestor: a man who is an ancestor, especially the founder of a family or people

However, I do not feel that those definitions define a father.  I have been blessed to have numerous father figures in my life.  Ranging from my dad, both grandfathers, a father-in-law and many other men who have had a hand in molding me into the man I am today.  Most people think of fathers as providers, they are suppose to be strong for their families, lend advice, be there when the world turns their back on you, teach you life lessons, etc.  I believe a father is a person who should be there no matter what, be that person that you can depend on in a split second, offer encourging words, mold you into the person you shall become. 

I am currently 28 years old and two of the most influential men in my life are my father and my grandfather from both I have learned many valuable lessons.  From both of these men I have learned how to love, how to show compassion, how to work hard, how to stand up for what you believe in, how to provide for your family, how to share a encouraging word, the list goes on.  From these men I have been molded into the man I am today and I thank the good Lord above that he placed me into their lives and most importantly me into theirs.  I am proud to call both of you "father" in some form of the word. 

I found this on a website that Paul Harvey had to say about Father's

In honor of Father’s Day this coming Sunday,
I am posting a piece by Paul Harvey.
What Is a Father?
A father is a person who is forced to endure
childbirth without an anesthetic. He growls
when he feels good and laughs very loud
when he is scared half-to-death.
A father never feels entirely worthy of the
worship in a child’s eyes. He is never quite
the hero his daughter thinks. Never quite the man
his son believes him to be. And this worries him
sometimes. (So he works too hard to try to
smooth the rough places in the road of those
of his own who will follow him.)
A father is a person who goes to war sometimes
…and would run the other way, except that war
is part of an important job in his life (which is
making the world better for his child than it has
been for him).
Fathers grow older faster than other people,
because they, in other wars, have to stand at the
train station and wave goodbye to the uniform that
climbs on board. And, while mothers cry where it
shows, fathers stand and beam … outside …
and die inside.
Fathers are men who give daughters away to other
men who aren’t nearly good enough, so that they
can have children that are smarter than anybody’s.
Fathers fight dragons almost daily. They hurry
away from the breakfast table off to the arena,
which is sometimes called an office or a workshop.
There they tackle the dragon with three heads —
Weariness, Work, and Monotony. And they never
quite win the fight, but they never give up.
Knights in shining armor; fathers in shiny trousers.
There’s little difference as they march away each
workday.
I trust that you will be able to honor your father,
either in person or as you share with others what’s
in your memory about your dad.
I hope you dads out there will be a blessing to
your families and that you will be blessed by
your families.

Something Found on my Email

Something to Ponder,
 
Dear All,
PLEASE ENSURE YOU READ THIS TO THE END, PREFERABLY WHEN YOU ARE LESS BUSY.

I can only imagine...
Heaven as written by a 17 Year Old Boy  
This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in Heaven.

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.

Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.
It makes such an impact that people want to share it. "You feel like you are there," Mr. Moore said.. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moore 's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.

Here is Brian's essay entitled:
                                 
                             " The Room.."
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at."

Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents Often there were many more cards than expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.

Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards...
But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.
Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?