This Weekend is Finally Here!

I am a proud fan of the Ole Miss Rebels. I say that with honesty and integrity and lacking any shame. However, as an Ole Miss fan, it has been a long while since I have looked forward to a college football season.

I guess we were excited about 2003, but there were so many unknowns. Yes, it was Eli's senior year but the cast around him had us wondering and guessing. We had done average the season before and there were some untested players stepping up to fill the voids of graduation. As it turned out, 2003 was a very exciting year, but we proved our hesitancy with losses to Memphis and Texas Tech.

But, in reality, it's been a long time since Ole Miss fans were this excited about a season. Last year's six game run to end the season was magical. The Cotton Bowl victory was as exciting a game as we've had in the last ten seasons. The players lining up to wear the red and blue are talented, confident, prepared, and anxious to go. So are the fans.

Ole Miss starts their season this Sunday against Memphis. The Tigers want the upset. The Rebels want the decisive win to kick off the season. The fans want their high expectations to be realized. We want that illusive trip to Atlanta for the SEC Championship game. We want to be the hunted and still succeed.

I've waited for the return of Ole Miss football since January 3. September 6 has been circled on my calendar for months. It's finally here and I can't wait!

"Building Blocks" on MPB Televison tonight at 9 p.m.

Please take the time to watch this really amazing documentary. "Building Blocks" tells the story of restoration for several historic properties on the Coast after Katrina. The stories are about properties but they're really about the people within the historic buildings.

http://www.gulflive.com/living/mississippipress/index.ssf?/base/news/125076332194510.xml&coll=5

Great Memories

Recently, I had the chance to visit the church where my wife and I got married. It is the church she grew up in and her family still attends. She was singing the offertory and we all went to worship together. I love that church. It has so many wonderful memories, most of which come from that special evening nearly 14 years ago. It's a simple sanctuary and it's a really good metaphor for marriage.

I've been in many different churches in my lifetime. Several have been my home church, but many more I saw during my days in college. As a member of the Millsaps Singers, we performed in dozens of churches throughout the Southeast and in several from other areas of the country. I've seen my share of sanctuaries... large and small... simple and ornate.

Covenant is a tall, A-frame sanctuary made almost entirely of long, copper-colored wood planks. It has a single pulpit, a beautifully simple alter table, and a tall ceiling that seems to reach to the sky. It has a backdrop wall that stands alone behind the alter and adds to the space of the room. It's so big but they don't feel the necessity to fill up the space with "stuff". When I worship there, it feels like a living, breathing thing. As time passes, the timbers that make up the walls/ceiling creak and moan with the wind and changes in temperature. The sounds are deep and penetrating. The choir loft is in the back of the sanctuary so it seems as though their sounds drop down from heaven. It's a wonderful experience.

Whenever I'm there, I think back to our wedding and reflect on our marriage. Life has not been easy over the last 14 years. ("Easy" is NEVER promised when it comes to marriage.) But it always does my heart and soul good to go back to Covenant. It reminds me of the beautiful (inside and out) woman I married. It also serves as a reminder that marriage is designed to be simple and honest, just like that church.

So many times, I have made my marriage much more complicated than God intended it to be. A place of worship needs nothing more than an alter on which to pray, a pulpit from which to read and preach the Gospel, and space for God's people to praise and worship Him. Everything else in a church is "stuff".

I've heaped on to my marriage so many needless expectations and limitations. They're just like the unnecessary statues, overly ornate woodwork, and all the other extras that we see in many churches today. I've piled this "stuff" onto to my wife and myself. Neither of us can live up to the unfair requirements.

Being in that place reminds me of the simple ideas of love, marriage, and commitment. On that evening back in 1995, I pledged to love, honor, and cherish. I promised God that I would care for my wife as I do myself. I vowed to care for her in the same way that Jesus cares for his people. And I committed myself to a beautiful person. I did so in the presence of God.

Those were simple promises. Yet, over time I've threatened them with doubt, harsh words, terrible behavior, simple-mindedness, and many other sinful acts. I've jeopardized my relationship with my wife by acting selfishly and pridefully. I've been quick to anger and slow to forgive. Unfortunately, I've neglected the vows I made.

However, every time I go back to Covenant, I am reminded of that wonderful day and our shared memories. It's almost like looking back at the photo album and feeling the excitement and joy all over again.

God created marriage as a way to honor Him. He gave me a partner to cherish and glorify. When I'm in that church, I find myself so inspired that I renew my commitments to my Lord and my wife. I renew my vow to be pleasing in His sight, both as a husband and a believer.

When is football season going to get here?!

This is an AWSOME SI cover. Hope it's not a jinx.

Put this on your To Do List for November

This is a great story about a good kid and a good family. It makes your heart warm to see people reach out to help one another.

http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810088176/video/14881491

Hotty Toddy!!!

http://espn.go.com/ncf/features/themoment/_/year/

Rainy Days

I've loved rainy days for as long as I can remember. Not only are they nourishment to God's green Earth but they have sights, sounds, and smells that are so appealing to me.

Some of my first memories are of my Grandfather and I playing in the rain. Mom and I lived with them right after I was born so that Dad could work for Old Uncle Sam in the Marines for a few years. I can remember my Grandfather dressing me up in my slicker and rain boots and taking me out to the yard and street to splash in the puddles. He was a "hard scrabble" man and earned his reputation of being rough around the edges, but his laugh was intoxicating for his grandchildren. When we played in the rain, he was a kid like me. I think he was enjoying some of the childhood he was never allowed to have.

After Dad did his time under a crew cut, we moved to Raymond where I grew up in a house with a million windows. Mom and Dad designed it and Mom was claustrophobic. Therefore, we had big, beautiful picture windows everywhere and none of them had drapes. (We lived on nearly three acres so there was no worry of people "looking in" on us.) The house was a modified A-frame design which meant rooftop from ground to apex. More than half of the exterior seemed to be roofing shingles. It was like something you'd see on a ski slope but in the middle of Mississippi. It's no wonder my Dad loves to go skiing now. He lived in a ski chalet for nearly 20 years!

When the storms blew through the lovely berg of Raymond, our house was a symphony of sights and sounds. There is no sound like that of rain hitting a window. It has a rhythm and timbre that has always done my heart good. And with our walls also being part of our roof, it made some beautiful music throughout our home.

Summer storms are the best in the South. It really is like watching God's fireworks. And you could feel the electricity when you were outside playing and got caught in a thunderstorm. If there was a strike really close, you could taste it and that sensation stayed with you awhile. I use to take Mae (my sister) upstairs when she was little and we'd watch the storms come in from the northwest. We'd sit in the den and enjoy the show as the rain filled up the puddles in the backyard and the wind whipped the pecan trees with all its might.

My Dad and I hunted at Kings Flat Hunting Club in Jasper County. It was a great place to grow up and to learn how to hunt. It was serious hunting, but it was driven by the desire to be a family place. No alcohol, no renegade hunting, and plenty of music and great cooking. We had a simple, sturdy cabin that we lived in while we were there. We built it ourselves and it was good craftsmanship.

I really enjoyed hunting. It was a real experience and the deer were abundant in Jasper County so it was almost always exciting. But... there was no feeling like waking up at 4:30 a.m. and, upon hearing the rain on the tin roof of the cabin, rolling over and going back to sleep. The deer weren't going to be moving and the hunting could wait until after breakfast, at least. It was, without question, a gift from God.

In my former professional life, I was a baseball coach. It's a hectic world and I felt like I was always on the field doing something. If we weren't playing or practicing, we were grooming the diamond constantly, it seemed. It's a world that can wear you out if you don't take time to rest. But, when the rains came, we couldn't do much on the ball field. I fondly remember sitting in the dugout, watching the drops fall from the roof, and realizing that I have a great excuse to stop and take a breath.

Rainfall can be soothing. It can be cleansing. It can be healing. Throughout my live, a rainstorm has been an opportunity to be still and rest. It is a gift.

I love rainy days.