COMING HOME...WELCOME, LeBRON!

So what makes a woman/pastor/non-athlete/fairly casual sports fan feel so emotional about LeBron coming home? Why did I cry when I heard his announcement? Bear with me, and I will tell you. It's a lot more than basketball.

I never was a hater when he left. I really disliked the way he did it, felt a young man was surrounded by influencers who gave him poor advice (not necessarily about "the decision", but about the way to handle it), and felt grief for him when so many people who had been fans not only acted despicably towards him, but towards his family. He had a right to play where he wanted to play, and make the decision he wanted to make.

I LOVE that he is coming home. I love even more that HE considers it coming home. I DOUBLE-TRIPLE-QUADRUPLE LOVE the way he is doing it. I completely identify with several things he said in his announcement:

"People there have seen me grow up. I sometimes feel like I’m their son. Their passion can be overwhelming."
In it's own way, that is what it is like to be a pastor's child, spouse, or a pastor. The love and support people give you is such a gift. But it is also overwhelming. If you ever do anything that isn't what they would do, you can be so harshly rejected and criticized, it takes your breath away. There aren't words to adequately explain how much it hurts to be treated badly when YOU still love them.

"But it drives me. I want to give them hope when I can. I want to inspire them when I can. My relationship with Northeast Ohio is bigger than basketball."

Oh, yeah, LeBron. Hope is my big word. On my Bible it is engraved, "Speak Hope". A huge HOPE sign hangs in my office, and multiple signs declaring hope all over my house. My life is dedicated to bringing hope and inspiration in Jesus' name. I consider it a down day if I haven't been able to lift anyone. My relationship with Northeast Ohio is so much bigger than being pastor at Cornerstone Church. I feel as called at Wal Mart or Target or the ball field as I do in my pulpit. This is MY place. The place God gave me to make a difference.

" I didn’t realize that four years ago. I do now."
Ah. Growth and humility. We never see enough of it. I personally have grown so much in the last 4 years, 10 years, 20 years. I am SO glad most people have been willing to let me grow with new realizations and not hold me to what I knew and didn't know back in the day.

"If I had to do it all over again, I’d obviously do things differently, but I’d still have left. Miami, for me, has been almost like college for other kids. These past four years helped raise me into who I am. I became a better player and a better man. I learned from a franchise that had been where I wanted to go. I will always think of Miami as my second home. Without the experiences I had there, I wouldn’t be able to do what I’m doing today."
This and other statements attest to the same thing I can say. There are a few things I have done in life I would do differently if I could get a re-do. But they taught me. I haven't wasted my tears or pain. I admire that HE hasn't, and is quick to give gratitude and applause to those who helped him grow.

"To make the move I needed the support of my wife and my mom, who can be very tough. The letter from Dan Gilbert, the booing of the Cleveland fans, the jerseys being burned -- seeing all that was hard for them. My emotions were more mixed. It was easy to say, “OK, I don’t want to deal with these people ever again.” But then you think about the other side. What if I were a kid who looked up to an athlete, and that athlete made me want to do better in my own life, and then he left? How would I react? I’ve met with Dan, face-to-face, man-to-man. We’ve talked it out. Everybody makes mistakes. I’ve made mistakes as well. Who am I to hold a grudge?"
Family before career. Giving and receiving forgiveness. No grudges. Oh, man. That's good stuff.

"I feel my calling here goes above basketball. I have a responsibility to lead, in more ways than one, and I take that very seriously. My presence can make a difference in Miami, but I think it can mean more where I’m from."
Oh, I love that word "calling." God has given each one of us gifts, and a person will never be more blessed than the moment he/she not only KNOWS what the gift is, but what is the CALLING that goes with it. What were you sent here to do?? I agree with LeBron--his presence here will make such a difference. MY presence here makes such a difference. Everyone who is living out their calling has that same thrill. Funny--this morning before this had even happened, I wrote a blog about how much I love this town Akron. God has CALLED me here. No other place has the appeal of the place where you know your presence makes a difference. I am thrilled FOR LeBron and BY LeBron that he knows this.

"In Northeast Ohio, nothing is given. Everything is earned. You work for what you have. I’m ready to accept the challenge. I’m coming home."
Oh, yeah---I get that. I struggle, My church struggles, My community is in a struggle right now. But I am in it up to my eyeballs, loving the challenge, and glad for the opportunity. This is my home.

WELCOME HOME, LeBron. I am praying for you, that your presence and leadership will make even more of a difference than you dream.

Loving my hometown!

I guess you could say I am a well-traveled person. Amber waves of grain and purple mountain's majesty, from sea to shining sea, in this nation have made my heart beat fast. I have been privileged too visit many other countries, make fascinating discoveries and have memorable adventures. I was born in Lexington, Ky., spent toddler days in Wilmore, Ky. , was heartbroken when my father's calling took us away from Caldwell and Noble County, Ohio. The beautiful rural people and rolling hills combined for an amazing childhood. I soon learned to love Zanesville, Ohio, though. It was where I graduated from high school, grew in my faith with wonderful mentors, developed lifelong friendships, and even was married in the church where I was raised. I lived in Circleville, Ohio where I completed college, solidified God's call on my life. I met my incredible husband there, and share the most amazing memories, laugh-till-your-sides-hurt moments, remembering our crazy friends and even more ridiculous escapades in C-town. Our first years of marriage were beautiful in our little pink trailer as we attended seminary. We were gifted to pastor in Cincinnati in the hey-dey of  the Cincinnati Reds and got many autographs from the greats--Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench, Sparky Anderson, George Foster. I felt  my tears would never stop when we were informed we had received a new pastoral  assignment, and would be leaving the century-plus parsonage and our little flock and the dynamic city for Akron, Ohio.

Akron, Ohio???? No. Not there. I left heel marks all the way up the state when we moved from the south to the northeast. Now we have been here  36 years. It has long ago become my home. I am grateful to have raised our children here and now see our grandchildren calling it home. The caring, giving people here have become our forever friends. My life purpose has found fulfillment here.  Akron has survived the fall of the economy and  the struggles of a changing city . It has been able to hang  on to and honor its history, and build a beautiful and promising today. The downtown  is more  beautiful every day.

I  love my hometown. Proud to be an Akronite, an Ak-rowdy, a Zip.... You name it.  I love this place.

Let Them Be Little...and You Be Imperfect

Our grandsons Max and Mav are potty-training.
Yikes.
I remember those days.

The kids remember loudly and publicly when they need to go one time, and then the next time a mess signals it is too late. And it's not as if their Mommas don't have anything else to do. Both mothers have smaller babies, truly infants, demanding much time and attention , too, with teething and nursing and learning to communicate a variety of wordless messages. The conditions are not nearly optimal for oopsie-free training. So, there are plenty of mistakes...and messes...and sometimes a mom gets grumpier than she wants to be. When a mom gets grumpy, it's not long before the guilts catch up with her.

If you've been a mom  with a normal sense of responsibility (or a dad, for that matter) for 10 minutes, you're familiar with the guilts and inadequacies that dog the steps of a parent. "Why did I say/think/do that? I must be the worst parent in the world. I am failing--my children deserve better than me."

Absolutely normal to think. Absolutely untrue and unhelpful to believe. Here's the news. The challenges of life don't diminish as they get bigger and older. You'll second-guess yourself and feel like a failure so many times over the next years--you could reserve a weekly hour in therapy to try to deal with yourself if you don't get a grip on the truth.

Here's the truth. You need to let them be little and let you be imperfect. Yep. Even when they are teens and bigger than you, they are going to be mess-makers, in different ways. And some days you, the parent, will lose your cool.  I had plenty of days when I cried and knew when it came bedtime I was lucky if I could pull out a C- that day for my parenting skills. A few moments in those days were flat out F's.  And yet, by the grace of God, those flying flunker days were outnumbered by the amazingly adequate days. Some days I wowed myself with a Grade A day. Here's the most awesome and wonderful thing--my children have a very forgiving memory. If the notes and Mother's Day cards are to be believed, they think I'm one of the all-time greats.

My phenomenal Dad says he blew it on many occasions when we were growing up. Funny. I don't remember that either. I do remember the climate of our home---warm with love, laughter, encouragement, and apologies. I remember the humility and commitment of my parents. I remember our prayers and dinners together and night-time making sure all was well before bedtime.

Let the kids be little. Don't freak out because you aren't perfect. Allow yourself to learn and grow through their messes and your mistakes. Very few individual moments will be remembered, but the love and humility that sets the thermostat in your home will be. "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." I Peter 4:8

And, hey--if you need to say "I'm sorry" to one of your littles for a less than perfect moment today, for God's sake (and theirs and yours), get off the internet and go say it. Now. GO. You'll all be glad you did.

How to Be a Hero :-)...No, really.

My beautiful daughter-in-love Jessica is afraid of ants. She hates them with a vengeance that is hard to overstate . An ant was crawling up the bedroom door (OK, to give her credit, it was a big black ant--and she swears they 1) never travel alone, and 2) always leave an invisible trail so their friends can find them) and she screamed like she was being attacked by a grizzly. "JAKE!!! AN ANT!"

He scurried down the hall, smashed and disposed of the offending critter. If she only could have waited, the little guy is only created to live for 45-60 days, so he was on his way out anyway. :-) "Oh, thank you, Jake!", she gratefully laughed, and all was right with the world again.

When Jacob came back up the hall, shaking his head and smiling, I said, "You're a lucky man, Jacob. The bar for being a hero at your house is pretty low."

Truth is, being a hero to those who love us is pretty simple for all of us. Just do what Jacob did. Take their needs and requests seriously, whether you understand them or not. Don't tell them how they should feel. Respond quickly when they ask you for help. Laugh with them, not at them. Find their quirks charming. And...well, that's a really great start. Try that and your hero rating will start inching upwards.

D-DAY Plus 70

70 years ago this weekend, June 6, 1944, more than 160,000 Allied troops landed along a 50-mile stretch of heavily-fortified French coastline, to fight Nazi Germany on the beaches of Normandy, France. My Dad was one of those real American heroes. He and the other members of the 101st Airborne blackened their faces, and, inspired by Winston Churchill and Dwight Eisenhower, telling them the "eyes of the entire free world are on you", climbed into C47 airplanes, and took off in silence for France. Dad says no one spoke a word. They sat with heads in hands, everyone lost in their own thoughts of family and freedom and the very real likelihood they would not return. Dad said there were just a few clouds, and he was stunned at the number of ships he could see in the shadows of the water. When they reached their destination, they leaped out into darkness, landing behind the German gun placements. They were there to provide cover and take out enemy troops as Allied soldiers came in waves to storm the beaches.

 Ron Hutchcraft shared, "A few years ago Steven Spielberg used his cinematic genius to help this generation get a taste of what that victory cost. 'Saving Private Ryan' had to carry a strong 'R' rating - because of the brutal D-Day violence it portrayed. Hollywood has no rating for how awful it really was."  Dad, Lt. James Mason, only saw a couple of the men he led into the fray again. Charlie and I stood in awe and grateful agony on a long stretch of Omaha Beach outside of Carentan where Dad was eventually wounded on June 21 after days of battle. We were speechless at the sheer courage it took to come ashore. Dad said, "I knew we were doing something really big. Eisenhower knew we were; Churchill knew we were. And we knew the success of this depended on us."

They did do something big. The heroism of the Allied troops who dropped from the sky and waded ashore that day defies words. They knew they faced death--many died in the jump or in the boats before they reached shore.  The beach was not friendly--it had landmines on the ground, Nazi sharpshooters and artillery on the sheer cliffs above, weapons focused to mow them down. But still they charged. They gave it all.

And we can be so glad they did. 70 years later we are here because they did. I tell Dad, "Dad, you're a real hero."

He says, "No, I am a soldier. I did what soldiers do. I would do it again."

"Thanks" is not enough, Dad. Not for you, not for any of the men who did what soldiers do. Some soldiers die, and many did. As long as I live, I honor you all. And I ask that God will help me always believe in something enough to die for it. Easy to say. Harder to do. Much harder. But you did it. And we are all so glad you did.