Archive for the 'friends' Category

Los Tres Amigos

Published
by
Mike
on January 23, 2005
in family, friends, music, prayer and the wreck
. 8 Comments

Yesterday morning two of Los Tres Amigos got to go home. Hurrah! We watched Jon Weston and (a few minutes later) Austin leave their rooms to head back to Abilene. It was kind of a lonely feeling for Chris, but he was glad his friends were doing that well.

And we had a good day, too. From the outside it would probably seem like baby steps. But from the inside it was gigantic leaps. Chris is now doing some simple exercises and is able to get into a wheelchair for brief periods. He had a couple buddies come up yesterday (plus his two very attentive female cousins who are hovering around him when he’s up to it) and they watched ballgames together.

Today he has his brother and sister-in-law to watch NFL playoff games with.

There was a moment late last night when just the five of us were in the room and prayed that I thought, “Life might one day be ‘normal’ again.”

During one of those early dark nights when we were waiting on word about head and lungs, I kept searching in my Ipod for something that would comfort. It came down to one thing: Zoe music. Probably because I could hear the familiar voices and know that those very people were praying for us. The two songs that ministered the most to me were “Come, Ye Sinners” (I know the words “bruised and broken by the fall” are referring to sin . . . but for the moment that spoke to our situation) and “Be Still My Soul.”

Last night and this morning I was supposed to have been speaking at a Zoe Conference in Fresno. I know it’s going well.

Well, that’s the report from Cook’s Children’s Hospital this morning. I think my mom and I are going to slip away to early service at Richland Hills. There are so many places I’d like to go this morning: to Burleson to say thanks for all the food; to Grapevine to say thanks for the banner signed by middle schoolers; to . . . . You understand.

Thank you all so very much for your prayers. We had one note sent up by someone saying that she is a member of this blog community though we’ve never met. She just wanted us to know she’s thinking about us, praying for us, and would do anything to help if we’d call her.

Are there words in the English language to say what that means to a family in crisis?

Update from Cook’s

Published
by
Mike
on January 18, 2005
in family, friends, prayer and the wreck
. 55 Comments

Dear Friends -

First, thank you so much for your prayers. We have felt the love and prayers of people from all over. Thanks also for remembering all the families who were effected by the wreck–especially the family who lost their precious 6th grade son. (The funeral, I understand, is tomorrow at 1:00 p.m.)

Second, I want to provide an update on Chris. For now, I want to be brief and to the point. There’s more I’ll share later, but I know some have probably been checking here for info. We’ve just been too caught up with everything happening in ICU to be able to break away.

Apparently, Chris is no longer in critical condition. The dangers we feared seem to be past. Yesterday (the day after the accident) he began communicating through hand signals. He became quite clever at a simple game of charades. His first major question to me was, I finally figured out, “What time is it?” A funny question for a kid who, because of the trauma, doesn’t even know what month it is yet.

Last night after his lungs had improved so much, they exubated him, and he’s been breathing on his own quite well. It isn’t pleasant mind you, with two or three broken ribs and bruised lungs, but he’s doing well nevertheless.

This morning he became very verbal. He’s very responsive, and can have pieces of ice. This afternoon the tube in his side (that went into his pleural cavity–I only know this because my med school son is standing beside me while I type) was taken out. Can you say, “BIG OUCH”?

He’s close to being ready to leave ICU. We’ve been told his neck brace can’t come off yet because of all the swelling in his neck, but nothing about that seems to alarm anyone.

Chris has a broken L4 vertebrae. They measured him for a mold that will be made for him that he’ll have to wear for a while (couple months?). They (I keep using the infamous “they” to refer to a slew of wonderful docs, nurses, and therapists) aren’t concerned about this break; he just has to be very careful for a while. Translation: his basketball season is over.

He and Austin Lemmons have been friends from the womb. Their mothers were pregnant at the same time, and they’ve been big buddies ever since. They’re together for covenant group most Sunday nights. They’ve been side-by-side up in PICU, intubated together, and now breathing on their own together. They keep asking about each other. Austin has been about a day ahead of Chris in all the areas of getting better (plus he doesn’t have the back thing to deal with), so we’ve been able to watch him and know what is hopefully ahead.

I don’t want to say more publicly about Austin or the other Highland boy here, their buddy Jon Weston Bennett. That’s up to their families. But suffice it to say that the Highland report from Cook’s Children’s Hospital today is very good.

More later. This was just for some who might check in. Diane and I appreciate you so much. It’s been one of the hardest 48 hours of our life. As you know, we’ve been down some of this road before–we flew Megan here and were in ICU so many years ago.

I’m fighting back tears as I tell you that my son appears to be all right. Thanks, Mike.

Limping Along in the Lord’s Army

Published
by
Mike
on August 26, 2004
in Megan and friends
. 12 Comments

I can’t believe it, but Megan would have been 20 today. She was born August 26, 1984 in Wilmington, NC, and died on November 21, 1994.

These words are taken from a piece written by our friend Thom Lemmons called “Limping Along in the Lord’s Army”:

“One of our friends once characterized Megan as a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and, the more I reflect on that description, the more apt it becomes. Megan was a living proclamation; not, like her father, by means of artful words and powerful phrases nor, like her mother, in visions and a spirit of discernment and prayer. Rather, Megan proclaimed her message in her life. She was a walking icon of Christ’s admonition to take no thought for tomorrow, but simply, in faith, to let each day unfold on its own. I doubt it ever occurred to Megan to make long-range plans or to fear what the next five minutes might bring. Megan, like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, trusted in the Creator, through his human agents, to supply whatever requirements she might have. She knew no other way to live. And in that respect, she sits in judgment on us all, and leads us toward a more primitive and perfect trust. Megan was a flesh-and-blood display of the topsy-turvey economy of the kingdom of heaven. She was one of the least of us, yet she occupied the apex of our care, absorbing all the loving service we could offer, and able to absorb still more. Without any ‘thank you,’ without any false reticence, without even seeming to notice, she took all that we could give her, and still we were left with the sense that it was not enough. And yet, to anyone who held her down for a breathing treatment, or marched with her through the church parking lot, singing ‘I’m in the Lord’s Ar-my, Yes, Sir!’, or changed her soiled undergarments, or tried in vain to rescue some semi-edible artifact from her unbelievably quick hands, or held her as she gasped for breath–to anyone who ever poured a minute’s worth of love down the bottomless pit that was Megan, the blessing which followed beggared any other reward. Megan taught us all the difference in value between receiving and giving. We only wished we could have done more: there was no question of doing less. And all the while, we were the ones being made over by her innocent carelessness and her shattering need into a closer imitation of the one who poured out his life as a ransom for many.”

Happy birthday, Meg. You are deeply, deeply missed.

Whose Face Would You Want to See?

Published
by
Mike
on May 23, 2004
in friends
. 5 Comments

Back when Bill Clinton’s sins became public fare and when several religious leaders were feasting like ravenous wolves, I heard Landon Saunders say something profound. He said he thought that the real test of a friend is this:

Imagine that you have just done something unimaginable, something you deeply regret. You’re lying on the ground in anguish. Then you open your eyes. Whose face would you like to see?

I have so many faces in mind: Landon, Darryl, Leonard, Adam and Donna, John and Evelyn, Eddie P. and Eddie S., Terry, Dickie, Leon, Ross, Charles, James, my brother . . . .

What do you think? Whose face would you like to look up and see?

Men Who Shaped My Life

Published
by
Mike
on March 16, 2004
in friends and memories
. 1 Comment

As I near the graduation of Son One from ACU, I’m thinking back to my own four years of college. Recently I wrote about how influential Jim Woodroof and Terry Smith were in my life. But there were others . . . .

Jerry Jones. The man who taught me my earliest lessons about preaching. (I don’t blame him for my excesses!) But beyond that, the man who filled me with a passion for preaching. And even beyond that, the man who drew me into his life. It wasn’t always serious stuff. Often it was playing ping-pong. Or jogging 5 miles at night. But he wove a love of Christ into all of that fun. He never could figure out why I wore my hair on my shoulders, but he’d joke about it and move on. One of my most vivid memories of my years at Harding was the night the two of us stood in his front yard and prayed after jogging. He prayed for my life of ministry and for my upcoming wedding. It’s a quarter of a century later, and I still remember that prayer.

And there was Neale Pryor. One of the best teachers I’ve ever had in my life. He was funny, kind, and full of knowledge. Sitting in his Hebrew prophets class (and several others) was a joy. I remember waking up in the mornings excited to know that I’d be going. I still can’t open up Amos or Micah without hearing his voice. (Several years later when I was preaching at the College Church, he and Treva drew Matt into their lives — so he blessed me once again!)

And there was Cliff Ganus. What a Christian college president should be. He never looked past people. He knew the name of everyone who worked for him at the university and cared about each one of them. While he couldn’t name every student, it was still evident that he loved every last one. Powerful preacher. Insightful historian. Amazing athlete. (One of my favorite memories of Dr. Ganus — sorry, still can’t call him “Cliff” even after being his preacher for seven years! — was in the summer of 2000. We went to live in Uganda for a month following Matt’s graduation. Turned out Dr. Ganus, now Harding’s Chancellor, was there for about the same length of time. One day when Diane and I were going out to a village without the boys, Dr. Ganus sat down at the Source cafe with Matt for a couple hours, telling stories, asking about his life, and encouraging him. Maybe that will one day prove to be the most significant part of that whole trip!

Tom Eddins. He was the young guy on the Bible faculty when I was there. His dry wit and his cynicism — to say nothing of his brilliance! — drew me in. Little did I know at the time that he’d become one of my closest friends during the College Church years, 1984-91. (And speaking of dry wit, there was Bob Helstein, my wonderful German teacher.)

Jack McKinney was my Greek teacher. I had seven years of Greek (counting graduate school), and Jack is the one who launched me on that journey. Whether it was sailing through Johannine material or plowing through Blass/Debrunner/Funk, he helped me fall in love with the study of scripture in the original language.

And, of course, Jimmy Allen. He took me verse-by-verse through Romans and Corinthians. And his fervor for being God’s man made an impression that went way beyond those semester classes. An amazing man, really. Someone said he’s the Billy Graham of the Church of Christ. I don’t know about that. But I know this: he could take the ball to the hoop (and you didn’t want to wait on him to call a foul!) and he could convict of sin and he could encourage young preachers.

There were other men and women, of course. But these are some of the men who helped shape my life from 1974-78.

How about you? Who are the people who helped mold you?