Then Came the Morning…

November 6, 2009 at 5:18 pm (family, grace, kids, spirituality)

I tried to sleep wondering when I would find a job, how would I support my family

Then came the morning…

My wife said she wanted a different life without me

I stirred all night considering the possibilities

Then came the morning…

I signed the papers forever putting us at odds with each other

I cried in jilted slumber

Then came the morning…

My children would hear the news that would forever impact their lives

I found sleep elusive and frustrating

Then came the morning…

I wandered through my existence looking for any justifiable means to continue

Nighttime presented a period when I needed to face the many demons that had taken up residence in my mind.  They never relinquished control and tormented an already confused thinking process.  I understand why children so fear the night and all the imaginary monsters, I’ve seen them and spent time wrestling them.  Those monsters don’t surrender to hope.  I hated when it began to get late in the evening for it meant the battle was brewing.  Peaceful sleep would never find me. 

Oh, how I hated the thought of a rising sun.

I dreaded the thought of going to church the next day

Then came the morning…

I would meet a woman who would teach me to love and trust again

I allowed my mind to stir with dreams of tomorrow

Then came the morning…

She said yes! She wanted to be my wife

I held her close and smiled as we slept

Then came the morning…

The news of our daughter was a wonderful surprise

I rest knowing my life is complete and full

Then comes the morning…

I give thanks for a delightful family, full of love, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Looking back at the hand of heaven providing strength in weakness, today I see that same hand bringing comfort and clarity to everyday life.

Bring on the morning.

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My Dream Team…

May 27, 2009 at 12:53 pm (family, kids)

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Blessings come in many forms, and my family is surely blessed.  As the school season unwinds for this year, we’ve had a great run.  Our five girls at various ages each have found their own path and doing an amazing job in the process.  Forgive me if I feel the need to brag a wee bit.

Brittany just finished her second year at FSU and what a year for her it’s been for this young lady.  She completed this semester with straight A’s.  She also was recognized for her writings and has been asked to contribute to an educational website directed at aiding incoming college students as they transition into the college experience out of high school.  Britt was just awarded a summer internship with a movie production company. 

Raleigh graduates from high school and has exciting plans for college.  She enjoyed a great senior year participating in cheerleading, yearbook, student government, and drama.  After getting accepted into college and receiving some scholarships the next stop is out west.  Off to Baylor University in Waco, Texas where many exciting life experience await.

Ashton also graduates from high school this year.  She participated in many activities and provided leadership to many as well.  FCA, Cheerleading, and Student Government were among the many organizations she contributed.  Ashton is heading to Texas for college where Baylor University has offered her many scholarships and will soon welcome her. 

Alainey enters the ninth grade after a scorching year of success.  Eighth grade just couldn’t contain all this child had to offer.  She completed the year with straight A’s.  She represented the county at a technology conference sponsored by Apple computers.  Her presentation drew compliments from technology leaders.  Alainey also won awards for her projects in poetry, video production, and writing. 

Michayla enters the third grade after a year of outstanding achievement.  She was recognized for her writing skills and volume of books read.  Excellent grades further memorialized this great year for her.  Her gymnastics ability also took the opportunity to shine.  She placed 5th on the beam and 7th on the floor in the state competition.  This strong performance gives  Michayla an opportunity to compete in the national competition next month.

Well done girls!  We are so very proud of each of you and your many accomplishments.

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18 years Ago Today…

March 3, 2009 at 2:06 pm (Love, family, kids)

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Eighteen years ago today the greatest interruption I’ve ever experienced took place.  I found myself teaching an uplifting Sunday School lesson to an eager group of high schoolers when there was the knock on the door.  “Come quick” was the charge, “your babies are on the way.”  Immediately I dropped everything, leaving the kids to divine care and was off on my way to become a daddy.  I had dreamed of this day for a very long time.

Smiles abounded as I proudly showed off my lovely offspring.  They were wonderful in every sense of the word.  Then came night time.  Getting a newborn baby to sleep is a challenge even under the best of circumstances, hoping for two to sleep is asking for a parting of the sea.  Even with a hefty supply of pacifiers there never seemed to be one when needed.  Many a night did I find myself stealthily crawling under the cribs in search of the elusive pacifier.  Armed with the knowledge that if I didn’t return with the holy grail an outpouring of frustration would soon follow. 

We made it through those early years.  Years of wonder and amazement.  Little Raleigh and Ashton grew lovelier each passing day, each seeking to find their own steps in life.  I remember accidents where Ashton fell off the Jungle Gym and came crying with a waffled tongue.  A sight most parents should avoid.  She healed and soon found herself climbing back aboard without any reservation.  One day Raleigh woke up and had little purple spots on her arm.  After a quick call to the pediatrician, we found ourselves in the same hospital where her life had recently begun.  She was bleeding internally and needed this medicine to stop the flow.  Scary times, but faith sustained us and our little Raleigh came home just like new.  Ashton too, had her visits to the emergency room, childhood asthma periodically roared its ugly head.  Soon she too would hit her stride and leave the maladies behind.

Coming home from work after a long day, I was greeted by two smiling faces at the door.  After parking my truck, the door would burst open and those energetic monsters would rush me in pursuit of a full contact wrestling match.  Laughter, giggles, screams of happiness sounded the time of togetherness.

But theses sounds of joy would soon be replaced with cries of sadness.  The life they knew and loved would be torn from them.  Upheaval of stability would become the norm.  The safety and comfort of family would be no more.  Mommy and Daddy were getting a divorce.  Instead of one big happy family, now these two angels had two unhappy houses to shuttle between. 

Raleigh and Ashton, I reflect on the pain your mom and I caused you.  On the way we put our needs so far out ahead of yours.  I’m sorry we couldn’t be the mommy and daddy you both deserved.  I’m sorry for the sadness that filled your eyes when previously they were so bright and cheerful.  We can never give you back what you missed out on, we can never make those nights alone crying yourself to sleep disappear, and we can never give you back your innocent childhood. 

Finding ones place in life is beyond challenging.  It is a lifelong pursuit.  It encompasses the purpose of our existence, to find the authentic us.  Most people never seek out this aim, instead live lives of frustration and anger.  I had to find my center.  I had to grow up.

This meant moving away and our time together decreased but never faded in depth of value.  We found ways to make travel fun and meaningful.  It was a part of who we were, we where travelers, this is what conjoined us.

Ashton and Raleigh, you grew both in beauty and kindness.  Each of your hearts matured into vessels worthy of honor.  You adapted to your ever changing environment with grace and never melted under the strain.  You were both becoming wonderful young ladies.  I was so proud to be seen with you and have the privilege of sharing you with my friends.

More changes were in store for each of you.  The lingering hope most children carry of one day their divorced parents reconnecting was shattered years later when I informed you of my pending marriage.  It was a difficult time for you both.  Not only were you getting another person in your world, a stepmom, but you also were getting two new sisters as well.  Change is a difficult pill to swallow.  Again you adapted and blossomed.  Your inner strength and resolve has been amazing.

By now each of you were a seasoned airline traveler.  Remember the Polly Pockets?  Each time as you left I gave you both a new one for the trip home.  You must have had quite a collection at one point.  For me, I started to notice your independence when you needed less comforting as you boarded the plane.  You were growing up.  I was both happy and sad at the same time with this prospect.

I have immense gratitude for the invention of the cell phone and computer.  It became our lifeblood.  It maintained our flow of communication and allowed our priorities to remain high.

Soon you both would be in high school and all that comes with it.  Friends, homework, clubs, cheerleading, and of course…boys!  The awareness that boys would come into play was constantly downplayed but reality determined this as inevitable.  With your charming dispositions, brilliant minds, and of course stunning radiance, well, how could the boys not be everywhere?

You both took leadership roles and excelled in means that reflected your individualized abilities.  Both rose to the top and rated yourselves as young women who others desired to be around.  Your lives became a testament to the purity of your hearts, an acceptance of divine love reflected to those all around.  Can you tell yet that I’m proud of you both?

Our trips together now became staging grounds for deep discussions on the meaning of life.  Our chats developed into full length conversations detailing our deepest beliefs and hopes for the future.  I found our disagreements rewarding.  It’s in these times the full you is revealed.  The one who exists to not just to please a parent, but desires to be truely herself.  Individuality determines our success not our acceptance of the expected.  Both of you have shown me the mettle to fight for your rightful place in this crazy world we call home.  Something has gone right in your lives to make this an actuality.

So here we are, only a few shorts months away from graduation.  Dreams come alive and burst forth with opportunity.  Live your lives with imagination.  Live your lives with possibility.  Leave regret behind, focus on instilling the essence of now with every breath.  Unleash your visions for tomorrow and never accept someone else’s expectation for you.  Raleigh and Ashton, God has infused each of you with greatness.  It is your job now to spend the rest of your lives letting it out and sharing that gift with others and the world as a whole.

Thank you for giving me eighteen delightful, entertaining, challenging, and unforgettable years of your life.  As a father, I can say without hesitation, it’s been a blast and I wouldn’t change a single thing.  I love the ladies you both have become.

Seek excellence.  Seek truth in strange places.  Look for the good in all.  Believe in possibilities.  Dream real big.  Chase the impossible.  Find happiness in yourself.  Believe in miracles.  See the wholeness of God everywhere.  Be kind.  Let gentleness prevail.  Let no one step on your dreams.  Live your hopes and no one else’s.

There has never been a day when I didn’t offer up thanksgiving for you girls.  I prayed for you long before you came into my world and seek God’s best for you daily.  I take comfort in your faith, as it gives hope.  Never let your faith grow stagnant.  Keep faith alive by testing it to find its value.  Faith is an individual effort that no one can determine for you.  You and you alone make it meaningful.  Let you light continue to shine.

Ashton and Raleigh…Happy Birthday!  I love you and believe in each of you.   Go forth and fly!           

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Quick Bit of Humor…

January 30, 2009 at 3:18 pm (family, kids)

 Brittany turned in her writing project and was initially told her paper was not acceptable.  “What she exclaimed” The professor said he ran a program that checked her paper against the internet and found something that was an exact match of what she turned in.  “But I wrote these stories, I promise” claimed Brittany.  The professor told her about a site that found her two stories posted upon them.  After reviewing the site a smile came on Britt’s face.  That’s my step-dad’s blog; he posted my stories because he enjoyed them so much.  To which the professor said, “He must be very proud of you, your stories are wonderful.”

 

Brittany, I am very proud of you.

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Another View of Dinner…

January 27, 2009 at 5:19 pm (family, kids)

As noted in the previous post, our lovely and talented daughter Brittany was required to write a paper decribing an event.  She chose to write about dinner with the family.  The assignment had a second part as well.  She was required to write the same story from another persons vantagepoint.  Here is the same event as seen by Alainey in Britt’s mind.

 

“LAINEY-BOB!”

 

“Oh,  no…he did not just say that. My name is ALAINEY, not ‘Lainey-Bob.’ I know he is perfectly ok with having like four hundred different names, but it doesn’t mean I am. In our house alone, we all call him something different. I call him R.C, Britt calls him Mike, Michayla calls him Daddy, and mom calls him all sorts of things. Why am I thinking this? Focus, Alainey, focus!  I hope Josh didn’t hear him…we just started going out…I don’t need that nickname going around school. I hope he didn’t see Josh’s arm around me…” I snapped out of my trance in just enough time to avoid running straight into the car door.

 

“How was your day, Lainey-bob?”

“Good…”, I responded. “Crap…I answered too fast. He SO saw Josh’s arm around me…crap, crap, crap!”

“So…who was the boy?” The pitch in R.C’s voice rose, as the question neared its’ end. I stepped into the car and fiddled around with my gorgeous new Juicy Couture jacket, trying to avoid the topic entirely.

           

            For the remainder of the drive home, R.C asks questions and I dodge them effortlessly through a series of subject changes. It seems that R.C is easily distracted. I point to a tree with the leaves still in tact, even with the below freezing temperatures. He begins to talk about how amazing the tree is and how God’s creation is so beautiful. When we get home supper is on the table. I am once again being questioned about Josh. “Damn…I thought he forgot about that.”  I decide to tell my family everything…it’s just easier that way. Throughout my rant, I continually glance over at my sister, who looks troubled.

 

“So how was your day, Brittany?” I say, hoping that the attention could now be focused on her instead of my currently pending relationship with Josh. (I say pending because my mother doesn’t exactly like the idea of her 14 year old daughter dating.)

            “Confusing. I don’t know…I’m having another ‘what the hell am I going to do with my life’ freak-out. How did you guys become so successful? I look at Mom and Mike, and I just get so scared that I will never measure up.” Brittany says, as her eyes begin to fill with tears.

 

           

            “ha…I knew that would get their minds off of Josh. Thank the Lord my sister is so screwed up…wow…I can’t believe I just said that…whatever. Thank you, Brittany!”  I look over to my parents, one of which has a comforting, yet strange smile etched onto his bearded face. “Brittany-Sue, when I was in college, I had NO idea I would end up being a stockbroker. Hell, fifteen years ago I had no idea. I have done everything from cleanin’ up Kennel crap, managing a restaurant and preaching, to construction, landscaping, and driving around in a truck delivering beer! It’s all about the journey! What you are doing right after graduation, I can guarantee you, is not what you will be doing fifteen years from now. Just worry about this semester, sweetie!” R.C always does have the right words to say when it comes to Brittany and her many ‘freak-outs”.

                        Rubbing my sister’s back, my mom looks at R.C and says, “What about your day honey, how was it?” Once again, his smile returned to his face. We then spend a majority of our time listening to R.C talk about golf balls. “This is why I don’t have friends over for dinner…” I think to myself as my parents get up and start dancing to some weird, old song. After dinner, my family sits in the living room and starts talking about the Notebook. As I am walking up the stairs, I hear R.C say, “Real men cry!” “Real men don’t watch the Notebook!” I say, as I head to my room.

            “Finally, some alone time. Are other families this bizarre? They can’t be. What am I going to do if I ever get the ‘ok’ to have Josh over? R.C is going to ask him all sorts of questions…then, he will probably dump me.”

           

            In the middle of my very own freak-out (Oh no…I am turning into my sister…), R.C opens my door. “Come downstairs, Lainey-Bob! We are going to watch the office!” I try to explain to him that I just don’t want to. As I am doing so, I unnoticeably scan his outfit. “Where do you even buy a shirt like that? Don’t people like smoke hemp or something?”  After about five minutes of me declining and of R.C strongly suggesting, I give in. I sit on the couch in between my two sisters and grab the some of R.C’s homemade popcorn. Looking around the room at my sisters, mom, and my hemp wearing, golf ball hawking, every now and again embarrassing step-dad, I come to a realization. “Josh would be lucky to meet my family.”

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Dinner with the Fisher’s…

January 25, 2009 at 7:11 pm (family, kids, parenting)

Our lovely college student Brittany, recently was required to write a paper on an interesting subject.  She chose to write about a “typical” dinner with the family.  I’m proud to have such a talented young lady in our home.  Here is what she wrote.

 

I crinkle my nose as the smell of a freshly cooked meal overwhelms the air surrounding me. As my family sits down at the dinner table, I glance at my stepfather. With his nicely trimmed beard, Beatles hat, and hemp sweater, he looks up and says with his southern drawl, “Let’s get to eatin!” My family’s mealtime conversations are far from anything normal. Mike, my stepfather, has Frank Sinatra playing lightly in the background and jumps up from time to time to dance to “Summer Wind”. “How was your day?” is the question that usually begins our dinnertime dialogue. My sisters babble for a bit about their schoolteachers or a current new 6’4’’ boyfriend. Then I begin to explain my concern for life post-college. My stepfather reassures me that what I am doing right after college, will not be what I am doing fifteen years from now. “Brittany-Sue, when I was in college, I had NO idea I would end up being a stockbroker. I have done everything from cleanin’ up Kennel crap, managing a restaurant and preaching, to construction, landscaping, and driving around in a truck delivering beer! It’s all about the journey! Just worry about this semester, sweetie!” Then, while comfortingly rubbing my back, my mother directs the question towards her husband, who, with excitement in his eyes, looks how a kindergartner would look when waiting to get called upon. Often times, I find myself leaning in, making sure to pick up on every word of his colorful and vibrant retelling of the day.  “I went golf ball hawkin!” He looks very pleased as he takes a bite out of his raspberry-marinated steak. He begins to explain how “hawkin” has a certain ‘zen-like’ quality to it and laughs at the puns being formed when he says things like “handling dirty balls”. “I saw the most miraculous sight today! Buddy-boy and I were on the seventh hole, a deer came out, and started kicking the golf ball around! Such a sight…nothing compares to being out there in nature with nothin but your dog and a pitching wedge.” About two minutes into his rant he stops, scoops up my mother, and says “Our song!” They then begin to twirl around the living room like a ballerina does in a jewelry box.

   Demanding attention is an act that Mike does not need to partake in. When he walks into a room, its’ occupants want to hear what he has to say. He has the mind of a philosopher, with the heart of a dreamer. I will always remember something that he preached in a sermon when I was sixteen: “Step outside your everyday way of living.  Look at today for exactly what it is…a present.  Today is the most important day in your whole life.  So focus on it.  Let today be the day you stop and smell the flowers, let today be the day you notice the clouds again, let today be the day you start chasing butterflies.” His ‘embrace the moment attitude’ is why strangers are drawn to him, why I take pride in him, and why my mother dances with him.

    After his mid-dinner workout, Mike venture’s back to the table and instructs me to go into his office and retrieve a book. His office is very fascinating: a blue acoustic guitar plastered with stickers promoting peace, one reading “Free Tibet”, leans effortlessly against his desk; the program from his latest play, in which he takes the role of a father of a crippled boy, hangs on the wall adjacent to the window; in the corner of the room, sit two large buckets of “hawked” golf balls; worn books are lined up unevenly on a shelf; The Electric Kool-Aide Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe, being the requested piece of literature. As I return to the table, I am caught in a battle between husband and wife.

                       

                        “I asked you if it was Jasmine rice, Michael, and you said no!”

“You never asked me that. You just asked me if we had rice and I said yes Ma’am!”

“When I talk all you hear is ‘blah, blah, blah, isn’t it?” my mother concluded.

Feeling slightly confused, I said “I have the book.” They were already laughing and holding hands again. “These two are nothing more than teenagers with degrees”, I thought to myself

‘You should read it, Britt!” Mike says enthusiastically.

“She’s got plenty to read already in school, honey.” My mother says.

“Yes Dear, but those books do little to stimulate the noggin!”

After taking a bite of my mother’s amazing mashed cauliflower, I say, “ Couldn’t agree more. College isn’t the place to go for ideas, according to Helen Keller!”

 

            With the conversation at an end, a high-pitched yet manly yell rings in my ears. “CLEAR THE TABLE, GIRLS!!” “Do you have to do that every time?” Mom asks rubbing her ear, hoping that her eardrums have not been damaged. “These scraps will be great for Buddy-boy!” That man and his dog…it truly is a sight. I suppose living with six girls can be an adventure within itself for a man. Hair ties, various undergarments, and tampons creep up on him throughout the course of his day. He has, on more than one occasion, been startled by a lonesome ‘just in case’ tampon in the side mantle of his own vehicle. With Mike’s many eccentricities, the word “tampon”, uttered around him in public, is enough to turn him pink. He will remove himself from any conversation when it crosses the line between girly and girly. In our defense, however, Mike did cry watching the Notebook. “A real man cries!” is his response when I bring it up. “Real men don’t watch the Notebook!” my fourteen year old sister jokes as she walks up the stairs. As my family congregates our now full bodies to the living room to watch The Office, Mike turns to my mother and says, “Great dinner, Maria! I think next time though, we should try it without the Jasmine rice.”

 

 

 

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A Brighter Light

January 5, 2009 at 6:06 pm (church, family, kids)

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The following is an excerpt from Anne Lamott’s book – Traveling Mercies.  I found the thought extremely insightful and worth sharing.

In this passage she describes why she takes her son to church.

I make Sam go to church because I can.  I outweigh him by nearly seventy five pounds.  But that is only part of it.  The main reason is that I want to give him what is found in the world, which is to say a path and a little light to see by.  Most of the people I know who have what I want – which is to say, purpose, heart, balance, gratitude, joy – are people with a deep sense of spirituality.  They are people in community, who pray, or practice their faith; they are Buddhists, Jews, Christians – people banding together to work on themselves and for human rights.  They follow a brighter light than the glimmer of their own candle; they are part of something beautiful.  I saw something once from Jewish Theological Seminary that said, “A human life is like a single letter of the alphabet.  It can be meaningless.  Or it can be part of a great meaning.” 

So all the resistance I encounter with the hair not being done right or clothes that don’t match perfectly I need to be steadfast.  When everyone’s nerves are frayed to a ragged edge preparing to visit the holy or the rain is pouring outside and umbrella can’t be found.  It is this very thought that challenges me to endure and continue the process of introducing hope and promise for my children.

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A Remarkable Little Boy…

November 18, 2008 at 6:59 pm (church, kids)

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“Daddy, tell me another story” was the repeated call from my youngest.  “Daddy, make it funny like the others”, requested the little ponytailed redhead.  “Make it one about church”, well that certainly limits my options, or does it?

Funny, I don’t even have to be creative to come up with amusing stories from when I worked in church.  All I need to do is be still for a moment and allow myself to remember.  The longer I’m quiet the more information floods my memory, seems like I have a hefty reserve available.

This came to mind.

The young boys name was Monte.  He was a tow-headed fellow, face full of freckles, great big toothy smile- probably around 7-8 years old.  He made a point to speak to every person he came in contact with.  Not being shy, he didn’t filter much of his conversation and one could expect a wide range of topics to talk about.  He had no friends because of his difference.  He was treated more like a pet than a child.  Monte would try to fit in and become like the other children but he seldom found much success.  He spent all his time with his grandmother in the nursery.  She was the church’s paid babysitter during church services.  She was quite old and her health was failing but Monte was always near her. 

Monte had Down Syndrome and acted like any other child except he was limited on his functionality.  Kind, caring, trusting eyes greeted every person.  Even though he was alone in this world he was not a loner.  I would often find myself on the floor engaged in deep conversation with him.

Monte had one peccadillo that caused many people in the church to have pause.  I believe if this one little issue could have been addressed, his life might have been totally different.  He might have been allowed to play with the other children had this been extinguished, but such was his fate.  Monte looked different from the other kids and acted different from the other kids, yet deep down inside, he was just like each and every other kid.

His downfall stemmed from his discomfort with clothing.  Monte simply didn’t like the way he felt when he wore clothes.  To him walking around the hallway of the church completely barren was a natural as breathing.  This of course bothered many of the people and his poor old grandmother would apologize and try to put his clothes back on him. 

Imagine the shock of horror found on a visitors face as they approached the nursery only to be greeted by a nude boy walking the other direction.  I’m certain he welcomed them and tried to strike up a conversation, but to no avail.  Whenever a loud scream was sounded we knew Monte had decided to go for a walk and he happened upon someone who wasn’t quite as understanding as most of the people from our church.

Monte made that church interesting, he kept things really fresh, we never knew when he would take one of his famous walks.  Truthfully, I thought he was entertaining and looked forward to each exciting chapter with him.  As one would imagine, complaints began to accumulate and the grandmother was told she would need to prevent Monte from parading himself about the church or he would not be welcome anymore.

After this pronouncement I would go by the nursery from time to time and see Monte sitting with his grandmother with the life in his eyes beginning to dim.  A sad image to take in.  His spirit was broken and he became a lifeless little boy after that.

Like all good rebels in life, the downtime was actually used to plot his next move, and boy, was it going to be a doosie.  Monte had a plan.

The sanctuary was full that Sunday morning, the choir looked angelic in their crimson robes, this was to be a Sunday service not soon forgotten.  After a rousing anthem by the choir the pastor strode triumphantly to the pulpit.  With his arms flailing and fists pounding, the message reverberated throughout the sanctuary.  At first the sound was almost indecipherable, but then it grew progressively louder.  Finally everyone focused their eyes on the location of the incoming noise.  As the collective congregants watched, Monte leaped from the steps of the baptismal pool into the water.  A wave of liquid slowly strengthened and delivered a baptism on the choir unlike any they had previously witnessed.  The drenching was so complete that church members met some choir members seemingly for the first time.  Make up and hair spray serve a purpose, especially for a choir made up of blue haired saints like these.  Wow!  The pastor stood stunned as the choir began to scatter in every direction.  Sheet music went everywhere…people starred in disbelief.  It was only a brief period but it seemed to last an eternity, this surreal moment had everyone asking, “did that really just happen?”

When the ruckus dissipated all eyes were transfixed on the image before them.  Swimming happily in the baptistry with only the clear glass wall facing the congregation was a naked Monte.  Everyone in the church that day understand completely that he was all boy.  And as a boy he would do the same things other boys his age liked to do and today that meant going for a swim.  His big toothy smile was back in full view as he hung on the front of the glass waving to all the bewildered onlookers. 

Monte and his grandmother didn’t come back to our church after that and they seemingly walked off into the sunset never to be heard from again.  That was truly a shame.  I’ll never forget that silly boy and his crazy antics that one very special day.  He did what no one else could do back then, and believe me, many had tried.  He managed to shut up that long winded preacher and allowed us to go home early.

I like to call it the “Miracle of Monte.”

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