Eleven hours of driving today: three hours from Birmingham to Centerville, Tennessee, where I officiated a funeral, then an eight hour trip home. I’m whipped.

Of course driving somewhere you’ve never been before has its interesting moments:

* I was somewhere near James K. Polk’s house, and it isn’t every day you’re that close to the home of the 11th president of the United States.

* I was near the Jack Daniels distillery, too. This, in case you didn’t know, is a national historic site.

* I think I was in Minnie Pearl’s hometown today. I rode around the city square when I got there, and I swear that was a statue of her in the middle of the square. I could have been delirious, but at that point of the day I wasn’t too sleepy (nor had I toured the Jack Daniels distillery).

But the best part of the day was nature. Centerville had a morning low in the 40s, but the afternoon high was in the upper 60s with bright sunshine, blue skies, and a cool breeze. Add to the weather the fact that the leaves were just beginning to change colors, and my backroads Tennessee drive took me back some breathtaking views. The picture above is of the Duck River. It was so impressive that I had to stop my car and walk down the highway bridge to take a few pictures, although the picture doesn’t do it justice.

But now I have to get some sleep….

The picture (and quote) is from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famed “Letter From a Birmingham Jail.” That letter, originally composed on scraps of newspaper and toilet tissue, is one of the most amazing documents of all time (in my humble opinion). In it, Dr. King responds to critics that claimed his fight for justice created too much conflict, and called for less showdowns with the authorities and more quiet talks. With a lot of newfound time on his hands (in a jail cell), he took the time to frame his response.

For some reason, I think tonight’s “Blog From a Birmingham Motel” won’t be as enduring in American history.

There are some similarities, however. For one, we are both writing in the same town (though he was in prison, and I am on my way to preach a funeral). For another, he and I share the same occupation (ministers) as well as the same time of life (both in our mid-30s).

Yet there are glaring differences. For one, our settings are quite different. Some may claim that Super 8 is not that much different from jail, but I suspect my accommodations are much more friendly (I mean, I doubt there was cute little “conditioning shampoo” bottles in Dr. King’s cell). But even more importantly, King was on the leading edge of a landmark fight for justice. And I’m not.

Now it isn’t because the fight for justice doesn’t grab hold of my heart…

* My years living in residential childcare attached my heart to the cause of abused and neglected children. It makes me crazy to realize that there are millions and millions of folks who claim to follow Jesus in this country while there are dadgum pictures on the Internet of kids without homes, all with no response. Give my family a couple of years and there will be one less kid’s picture out there. For starters.

* And the cause of poverty housing is important to me, too. Begin with Habitat for Humanity and continue through Hurricane Katrina, and I’ve seen firsthand this problem in the United States of America. The richest nation on the planet can’t seem to care enough to provide simple, decent housing for all its people.

* I’m just getting wound up on the cause of Single Parents. I first heard single-parent families referred to as “modern-day widows and orphans” in a recent phone conversation with Pam Willingham. That definition is apropos. And who is doing something about these modern-day widows and orphans?

So it isn’t that there isn’t injustice in my world; it isn’t that there aren’t causes to fight for and take risks for and possibly die for… And it isn’t that I don’t care, or that I don’t do anything at all about it…

It’s just that I take a look at Dr. King’s eyes in that jail cell, and I see someone so much deeper into it than me. So much more passionate. So much more committed to the cause.

Well, it isn’t jail, but maybe a little quiet time in Birmingham will do me some good, too.

Today wasn’t very dramatic, which was welcomed. The rest of the week promises plenty of drama, so one day that seemed almost routine was nice. Lots of office work: phone calls to make, thoughts to prepare, and emails a-plenty…

The picture above provided a small bit of drama I guess. A really impressive little storm blew in around the time to pick up Hillary from school. The wind was very powerful, and the rain intense for about 20 minutes I guess. The picture is a slice of normal life for me: sitting in line at the elementary school with my little placard declaring my child. This is my fifth year to battle that crazy traffic. You’d think I’d be used to it by now?!

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Some of you have read my primitive poetry. I’m only somewhat embarrassed to say that I’ve already lost the poetry mood. It’s been fun, however, and I feel like I’ve composed three somewhat “real” poems. Plus, if the urge ever strikes me again, at least I know where to start. I submitted these three poems to a real poetry magazine, and I received my nice little rejection letter yesterday. That didn’t cause me to give up (I’d already done that). I’ve just learned that it doesn’t hurt to take a shot at something anyway, so that’s what I did. I’ve been rejected before, and if I ever intend to accomplish anything in life, I’ll be rejected again. Nothing but another little bump in a long road.

Upon the rejection notice, however, I decided to share these three finished (for me) poems for your reading pleasure. You can let me know what you really think if you wish… I’m kind of nervous, however: I haven’t even shared the one about my dad with my family, and it’s kind of raw I guess. I hope they’re received well…

Here goes…

ALBERT STURGEON, JR. (AN ELEGY)

Nothing reminds me of home like a pack of Camel cigarettes.
My dad smoked them, and then we shot Havlicek jumpers at his shoes
With the wadded-up packs. I hated the putrid smell of the smoke,
And knew I’d never take it up. But he did, so I loved it, too.

My dad was tough. He smoked hard cigarettes and had drank hard liquor.
He once cleared a bar with a pool cue and spent the night behind bars.
He had fought the Japanese, and he never cried. He lived his life
Without a shirt, his sun-weathered skin, barrel chest, and thick forearms

Nicked and bruised and spotted with “monkey blood.” His bicep sported a
Tattoo of a battleship with the name, Ruby, below. I was
Stupid enough for years to think that was the ship’s name. No matter.
I loved his toughness. Because he was my dad, and he loved me.

He was tough enough to kiss me on the lips and offer his lap
As a seat until I was too big. He called me “booger” and his
Grandkids, “tootie-wumps.” He was tough enough to sing songs like, “I know
A song, ain’t very long, toodle-up, toodle-up, now it’s all gone.”

He was tough enough to spend hours on end playing catch with me.
His toughness came from a hard life. Growing up in the Depression,
Becoming a man at war, and growing old carving sides of beef
As a butcher shapes a man’s perspective. His perspective shaped me.

When I fell down, he’d say “That’ll feel better when it stops hurting.”
He cussed like the sailor he was, using nigger and goddammit
With ease. Church was fine for us, but not for him, and yet none of this
Fazes me. He came from a different era, and he loved me.

He’d offer “a big onion and cup of coffee” as birthday gifts,
But it was no secret that his heart melted for his family.
I still see him with a flip-over baloney sandwich before
Heading outside to do “something.” Undefeated by life. My dad.

AUGUST 29, 2005

The nightmare opens with a piano
Sitting silent on Martin Avenue,
Illumined by flashlight amid darkness
While Katrina sings her sinister tune.

Two flashlights traverse the debris-strewn road
Like a crazy cat with twinkling eyes.
They are policemen courageously searching
For life, though they themselves are traumatized.

Katrina howls her haunting melody,
Over and over she whistles her scales.
A busted gas main hisses harmony,
Their music casting a hypnotic spell.

I begin climbing Destruction Mountain
Stepping on sofas, bedposts, like King Kong.
I shine my light ahead and see tree ghosts,
Bed sheets and clothes dance to Katrina’s song.

The nightmare pauses for intensity,
Leaving unforgettable images:
Hot breath, wind hiss, salt taste, gas smell, tree ghosts,
And a silent piano in darkness.

ONCE SEEN IN EATON, ARKANSAS

Old men in overalls fresh out of church
Sit in the shade as the meal is prepared;
Ladies busy with casserole dishes
And award-winning pies from county fairs.

The children still have on their Sunday clothes,
Now sticky with sweat from a game of chase.
The young men throw an old baseball around
Out by the oak tree that serves as first base.

An aunt goes in search of a cheek to pinch.
An uncle decides to sit for a spell.
The family historian writes down notes.
A cousin plugs a new product for sale.

A new car arrives with out-of-state tags.
Grandmama says, “Look who came after all!”
A tow’l-covered box comes out of the trunk,
Along with a cane so the man won’t fall.

Someone proclaims that it’s time to begin.
Granddaddy gives thanks to the Lord above.
As I bow now I can still remember
Old family reunions. Old family love.

After “church” this morning, Jody, Hillary and I went to Biloxi for their annual Seafood Festival. True to our Arkansas roots, we ate smoked sausage, a hot dog, and a rib plate (respectively) at a SEAFOOD festival! There was a nice crowd, good music, lots of vendors, LOTS of good food to choose from (even though we skipped paying the extra five bucks for the gumbo cook-off), but the weather was HOT!!!!! We didn’t stay a long time. After eating and wandering and standing in line a long time to get Hillary a cherry snow-cone, we headed back to the house.

Our worship time was interesting this morning. I’ve been preaching through Matthew, and taking it as it comes, my topic today was “divorce” (from Matthew 5: 31-32). I was a bit nervous taking on this difficult and emotional topic, but I thought it went well over all.

After my sermon, one of my elders motioned for me to come to the back with him (which is really bad karma after preaching a sermon on a controversial topic!), and when I made it to the lobby, I saw our friends, Tandy and Peggy. They had come late with the news that Mrs. Louise (Peggy’s mother) had passed away this morning. Peggy had the great idea of tacking on an impromptu memorial service to the end of our worship, and this is what we did. It was simply beautiful.

I began by requesting that folks who love Tandy and Peggy to come and surround them, and it was moving to see the people come to comfort them. They had people sitting around them, between them, almost on top of them!!! I said a few words off the cuff, then our song leader (Trent) led a couple of songs Peggy had requested (“A Beautiful Life” and “I’ll Fly Away”). Afterwards, I had the chance to say a few more words and then close with a prayer. Then, the hugging began in earnest.

And it was good.

Peggy asked if it was possible for me to travel to Tennessee and officiate the funeral this week, and after a bit of rearranging, it is going to work out. And I’m glad. It’s an honor to return one of the many good deeds that this wonderful couple has offered us over the years…

Tonight, I pray that God bless Tandy and Peggy, and that He will tell Mrs. Louise “hi” from all of us.

Not much time to blog tonight – I have to get to studying for my lessons tomorrow…

I got to spend the afternoon/evening with my friends Matt and Tracy at the Southern Miss / N.C. State football game. We had a great time: the weather was perfect, our seats were good, and the game was awesome as Southern just pounded the Wolfpack. Damian Fletcher, a freshman from Biloxi whom I watched play basketball a few times in the past couple of years, put on a show for the Golden Eagles. He’s VERY impressive.

We didn’t finish all the ceiling tiles at church this morning, but we came very close. I hate not finishing something, but sometimes you just don’t have enough people and time to get everything done. It will still be there for another day.

I’m 36 years old today. I had the chance to take my college daughter out to eat at Applebee’s before the game tonight: she looked so pretty, and I’m so proud of her. My mom and my sisters all called today, and I also got to talk to my “twin” (smile) cousin, Amy, who is also celebrating a birthday today.

It’s been a good day. But I know I won’t get enough sleep tonight!!!

Our fearless leader, Matt, works replacing ceiling tiles at the church building tonight… Ten of us showed up last night. Eight came tonight. Tomorrow morning is the “real” work day, and I hope there will be a good turnout then. We’ve accomplished a lot in the last couple of nights, but there’s still quite a bit to get done tomorrow. I was paired up with my friend, Tom, tonight, and he got on a roll in the very difficult section around the air conditioning ducts. We worked nonstop for 4 1/2 hours, but we got our side completely done. All I did was pick up tiles and hand them to Tom, but my arms are already hurting in places I didn’t know existed! Tomorrow morning they’ll feel REALLY good, I’m sure!

I got a surprise early birthday when I got home close to 11pm tonight! Hillary had made me a football birthday cake, and she and Jody gave me their gifts (my birthday is 24 minutes away!): Hillary gave me a HUGE Sudoku book and a mask she made at pottery camp, while Jody gave me the book, “The Great Deluge” (about Hurricane Katrina). I’m looking forward to getting to see Erica on my birthday tomorrow afternoon.

Today I had lunch at the elementary school with Hillary, which is always fun! I had a good burrito with salsa, potatoes, and a tasty fruit dessert. Plus, I had a GREAT roll. Schools make the very best rolls in the whole world. It was fun sitting with my daughter and her friends – it won’t be long until she won’t allow me there, so I’m trying to enjoy it for as long as I can.

I’ve got to take a shower and get some sleep! Good night, everyone! I’ll be 36 years old before I can even get to bed!!!

Those of you who have been to our “old” house might recognize it from this picture. We sold it to a local contractor about ten months ago now, and as you can tell from the picture, his major accomplishment has been to park a truck in the driveway.

I went out to our old neighborhood today to take a few pictures of the Little’s house. They are friends of one of our church family members, and our church has been helping them rebuild. After snapping a few pictures from the outside, I decided to drive by our old house, though I don’t know why I torture myself like that. Every time I see it, I’m filled with this enormous sense of embarrassment. Even though it isn’t ours, it just tears me up to know that our old neighbors, Brian and Tammy (and their kids, Shannon and Briana), have to look at that crap every day. I just hate it.

I spent a couple of hours at the hospital today visiting with Peggy (who was sitting with her mother, Mrs. Louise). Mrs. Louise’s broken hip needs to be operating on, but she has a bevy of doctors who all need to sign off on the surgery before it will happen. And her health is not good. So far, the lung doctor has refused to agree to surgery every day: Mrs. Louise just wouldn’t make it. Some time after I left, Mrs. Louise nearly made the decision moot for everyone when her oxygen levels began to drop dramatically. Peggy rushed to her side and kissed her goodbye, but the nurses rushed in and were able to help things improve. Life and death issues going on every day in that hospital.

Some of you Church of Christ folks will know the name of Joe Beam. He’s getting a whole lot of press with his traveling sex talks. He was on the front page of MSNBC today, and he is scheduled to appear on the Today Show. Ought to provide a lot of fodder for discussion all around.

We began work on replacing the ceiling tiles in our auditorium tonight. Ten guys showed up to begin the pain-in-the-neck project, about half of the older men, and half the younger men. It was actually pretty enjoyable, maybe most especially because the older men and the younger men got to hang out together. That doesn’t happen nearly enough.

A couple of chapters left in Dave Barry’s Big Trouble. I think I’ll read some before hitting the bed.

Good night, everyone.

My day began at the Ocean Springs City Hall for a monthly meeting between area church leaders and our mayor. It turned out that the mayor couldn’t make it, but that didn’t stop us from having a really good meeting. The major topic became serving the poor, since Jerry came to represent the floundering Samaritan Ministries. After Katrina, hurricane relief has taken center stage, and simply serving the poor who aren’t hurricane victims has taken a backseat. We discussed at length today the problem, and though we didn’t develop any firm solutions, at least the topic was broached and the dialogue begun.

In addition to Jerry (from the Presbyterian church) and myself, the following leaders were present: Mitchell and Cliff from St. Paul United Methodist, Carlton from Victory Full Gospel, Kim from Emmanuel Baptist, Jesse from Macedonia Baptist, Marcia from St. John’s Episcopal, David from Wesley United Methodist, and Bruno, a retired UCC pastor who worships at St. John’s. Out of everyone, I was especially glad to see Bruno. He spent his summer as the chaplain at the Chautauqua Institute in New York, which looks to be a fascinating experience. I’ve decided that I could learn a lot from Bruno, a fact I brought up just before he left for the summer. He remembered today, and I’m truly interested in making plans to sit and learn from him. I know I’ll be better for having done so.

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Class went well tonight. With my birthday coming up Saturday, the kids made me a HUGE card in their class (and they made Herman one, too). They were so proud sneaking it downstairs and presenting it to me after class. I guarantee it will have a very special place in my office!

At the end of class, I showed a video that grabbed my heart. I want you to watch the video, but you have to read the article from Rick Reilly (Sports Illustrated) first. So read the article below, then click on the video link that follows. You can thank me for changing your life for the better later!

Strongest Dad in the World
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he’s pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he’s not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars–all in the same day.

Dick’s also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much–except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

“He’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life;” Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. “Put him in an institution.”

But the Hoyts weren’t buying it. They noticed the way Rick’s eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. “No way,” Dick says he was told. “There’s nothing going on in his brain.”

“Tell him a joke,” Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? “Go Bruins!” And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, “Dad, I want to do that.”

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described “porker” who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. “Then it was me who was handicapped,” Dick says. “I was sore for two weeks.”

That day changed Rick’s life. “Dad,” he typed, “when we were running, it felt like I wasn’t disabled anymore!”

And that sentence changed Dick’s life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

“No way,” Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren’t quite a single runner, and they weren’t quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, “Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?”

How’s a guy who never learned to swim and hadn’t ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they’ve done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don’t you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you’d do on your own? “No way,” he says. Dick does it purely for “the awesome feeling” he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time’? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992–only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don’t keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

“No question about it,” Rick types. “My dad is the Father of the Century.”

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. “If you hadn’t been in such great shape,” one doctor told him, “you probably would’ve died 15 years ago.”

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other’s life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father’s Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

“The thing I’d most like,” Rick types, “is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.”

[Click HERE to watch the video]

What’s in a hospital? Oh, I know what you’ll say: patients and medicines, doctors and nurses, bad food and huge medical bills… And you’d be right. But there’s much more there, too. There is one particular hospital in Jonesboro, Arkansas, that contains memories of both of my daughters births, along with the painful memory of my dad’s final breath. And the Ocean Springs Hospital has its special places, too. Of Karen Mize’s final days last week. And of Mrs. Louise’s struggle as I write today.

Mrs. Louise was a talented artist and a high-energy go-getter LONG before we got to know her. By the time we came into her life, she was a stubborn survivor. A horrible accident and a massive stroke didn’t leave much room for hope when she moved in with her daughter and son-in-law 23 years ago, but just a little hope and a lot of fight proved to be enough. And she’s still fighting.

Mrs. Louise fell and hurt her hip Sunday night, and the first report came back that she had broken the ball completely off her hip. Upon further examination, it was determined that the ball isn’t there! No one knows for sure how long it had been since it had deteriorated.

She is having a hard time breathing today, and although that is normal, it is now much worse. She is having a hard time communicating today, and although that is normal, too, it has also worsened. When I visited her today, Tandy and Peggy had stepped out for about an hour. I said a prayer with Mrs. Louise and held her hand. She was able to say “okay” to a couple of questions through the oxygen mask as she fought to take every single breath.

But a fighter is what she is. And the hospital knows it.

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Today involved putting my class for Sunday together, as well as fighting a computer to extract a video that I want to play at the end of my Wednesday class (which will be GREAT if it actually works!).

I got to eat lunch with our friends from Killen again today. The cook insisted I stay and eat, and I didn’t fight her very hard. We had a very good spinach/cornbread sort of casserole, Italian cole slaw, orange “stuff” (congealed salad), and some cherry cobbler. Excellent all around… This work crew is working at Larry and Jo’s house, and I learned today that Jo isn’t doing well. Larry has his continued heart condition, but now Jo is having a very hard time with her legs. How does it sound losing every possession you worked all your life to acquire, followed by losing your health? I praise God for folks from Alabama who continue to come and help this family.

I enjoyed ladies’ class this morning. I know that sounds funny, since I am of the male gender you know, but after they roped me into teaching years ago, I discovered that this is one of my favorite things. We began sorting through the mess known as Romans chapter eleven today, and we made it halfway through. If nothing else, it inspired my bulletin article for this week!

I’ve just finished another three chapters in Brian McLaren’s book, “A New Kind of Christian.” One of my great email friends, Tom, sent me three McLaren books to see what I thought about them. I began this book recently, but last week was so nuts that I had to put my reading on hold. I climbed back into the book today and reintroduced myself to Dan and Neo and their venture into postmodern Christianity. Very good, yet familiar stuff for me so far…

As of now, there’s nothing major planned for tonight (which, although that is the only night like this on the calendar this week, I’ll take what I can get!). I hope to get a chance to read a little Dave Barry, do a little jogging (if these storm clouds cooperate), and hang out with my family (if homework doesn’t mess with that too much).

Happy Tuesday!

The picture is of Marvel and Charlene and Jody, the last folks standing after our S.P.I.N. Ministry meeting tonight. I am REALLY excited that our young adult group has chosen “single parents” as a group to reach out toward and help, and things are getting better all the time. Our SPIN group serves Single Parents In Need, and on December 2, we will have our first major event, something we’re calling the Single Parent Network. Stick around, and I’ll tell you all about as it comes together! It ought to be really exciting!

Speaking of exciting, my phone rang somethink like a BILLION times today!!! Sheesh!!! Mondays are usually fairly quiet, and I get a lot of things done. Today was extremely hectic, and I got a lot done, but I really don’t know how. My major task each Monday is to assemble my Peak of the Week Class for Wednesday night, and it is downright miraculous that I pretty much got it together today. And, oddly enough, I sort of feel like this one might be GREAT! If you are in the area Wednesday night, you might not want to miss it!

I got to eat lunch with the group from Killen, and it was really, really good. Jody fixed some great hamburgers for supper tonight, where we celebrated with Heath and Laura on their new jobs located today!

It’s been a good day. And to top it off, all three of my fantasy football teams won their week number one games (sorry David and Cole and John!).

Sleep well, everyone…