The Ordeal

At 8:30 on December 11, 1965 I began an ordeal that would last for the next six months. When I couldn't stand up without help on the sideline Coach Gray called for the doctor to come down. After some preliminary tests Dr. Apple decided that I should go to the hospital for x-rays.

At the hospital, not really knowing the extent of my injury I was put in a wheel chair with my jersey and shoulder pads removed over my head without regard to what injury there may be. I was taken to the x-ray room where the technician moved me in all sorts of directions to get pictures of my shoulders and neck. Then is was back to a stretcher where I lay on my back waiting for the results.

The next thing I remember is a doctor coming up to me and saying, "lay very still and don't move." This was an odd request since I had been moved every which way since tackling the player on the field. Then I heard the doctor say that I had crushed the fifth cervical vertebrae. I was wheeled to an operating room where they prepared to drill a couple of holes in my head and put me in traction. While waiting a group of doctors came in and moved me to the side of the room while they rushed in a man from an automobile accident into the same room. As they frantically worked on him I heard the final comments "It's no use. He's dead."

For the next 7 weeks I was in traction in a foster frame. To turn me over I had to have a canvas bed like the one I was lying on placed on top of me, bolted to the bed and the whole bed turned, removing then removing the part that I had been lying on. It was 7 weeks of lying flat on my back or stomach.

At the end of this time I was taken to an operating room where I was put in a plaster cast. It rested on my hips, covering my back, chest and head. The only openings were for the arms and then around my head for my face, ears, throat and top of my head. This 20# plus cast would be with me for the next 6-7 weeks. The only pivot place would be my hips. This was the only time I cried during the entire 6 month ordeal. At this time I felt trapped. The only good thing was I could now walk around and sit in a chair. Of course whether lying down or sitting, I was always on a rock. I'm sure I was scary looking, looking like a zombie. I know I was to my youngest brother when I first came home.

The day finally came when I went into have the cast removed. That was the happiest day of the entire ordeal. For the next several months I'd be in a neck brace, but when I sat down on the hard vinyl seat of our Falcon Futura I felt like I was sitting on nice fluffy pillow. Now I could take a shower, get my hair cut, drive a car and lie on a nice comfortable bed.

Then in June of 1966 I was able to take off the brace and resume a more normal life. My future would be changed however. There would be no college football, no military service and arthritis in my neck whenever the weather changed too drastically. But there was no more paralysis and I was able to move on with life.

Every day I realize how fortunate I was to be where I am today. Every once in a while I look back I wonder at times how I made it through this ordeal so easily. Then the answer comes as easily as the question. It was the support of friends and loved ones. I received hundreds of cards and letters from the people of Plano as well as places far away from my hometown. I knew I was in the thoughts and prayers of thousands of people, most of whom I had never met and never would.

The week following my injury the Plano Wildcats went on to win their first state championship and was on the road to become one of the best high school football programs in the state of Texas. Upon returning my teammates presented me with the game ball from the state championship. I'm looking at it as I sit here writing this blog. It's a Spalding J5-V. It's just a football to most people, but to me it's the love of group of my brothers that I'll never forget.

"If one falls down, a friend can help him up. But pity the man who fall and has no one to help him up." Ecclesiastes 4:10 I survived because of those who were there to help me up.

A Night to Remember

Many of us, and we all will at some time, have had a life changing event occur in our lives that changed the course of our destiny. These events usually make us step back and look at life differently than before. They sometimes give us wisdom and a strong desire to succeed in ways we could never had imagined. Others send us into a downward spiral that infiltrates every part of our lives. In many cases the same event could be the cause of either scenario. That's all determined on how we personally choose to use the event.

One such event happened to me on December 11, 1965 in Wichita Falls, Texas. Our high school football team, the Plano Wildcats, was only one game away from reaching the state AA championship game. We stepped on the field that night against a strong, highly favored team, the Iowa Park Hawks. Most papers were picking the Hawks by two touchdowns and to be the northern Texas representative in the title game.

The year had started out rough for me. I had had three injuries, a bad ankle sprain that hobbled me in the first game, a broken collar bone in another game kept me out another 6 weeks and a bad hip bruise that sidelined me in yet another. But this was my senior year and I loved football so I'd try to get back in the groove in the midst of these trials. As a result of all the injuries and having to be replaced at tailback I was now placed in the position of offensive and defensive end. I must have been about the smallest defensive end in the state at 5'7" and 150 lbs. (Of course the 150 lbs was what was on the program which was a slight exaggeration of 7 or 8 lbs.).

The event that changed my life happened in the first quarter with the score tied 0-0. On this particular play my job was to cover the split end to my side and turn any runner to the inside to trap him in the midst of our pursing line. On this particular play Iowa Parks top runner came around the end and I held my position to turn him inside. As he came around the end the runner didn't have much of a choice. He could either turn up field into a group of 6' 190 lb. linemen or challenge me and my much smaller stature. I held my position, planted by cleats in the sod and took him on planting my head firmly in his stomach.

The next thing I remember is a slow motion fall backwards. I don't remember being knocked out, but when I opened my eyes the first thing I saw were coaches hovering over me. To the best of my recollection the first thing that I said was "I can't move coach". There was no panic, no fear and oddly enough no pain., but I was paralyzed from the neck down. The coach's response to my comment was "You're just scared". Looking back on it I think he was the one scared. I just couldn't move.

The paralysis lasted a short time I'm guessing since before long I could move my leg. My concern at the time was holding up the game so I asked the coaches to carry me off the field. This act in itself could have been devastating due to the later findings. At the sideline our manager helped me to the bench. A short time later the coach asked if I was ready to go back into the game. I raised about 6 inches off the bench and sat back down. I had no strength to stand up. It was then that the doctor came down and decided that I needed to be taken to the hospital.

I had broken my neck, the 5th cervical vertebrae. The word I heard from the doctor was "crushed". I was lucky to able to move at all. Football was over. The ordeal that followed would be tough for an eighteen year old. I'll discuss that in the following post. Yet I'm blessed with a full recovery. So many others have not been as fortunate. To this day when I see someone hurt on the football field the first thing I look at is their legs. As they lie still on the turf I look for sign of movement. If he moves his leg I have a sigh of relief.

I have seen other boys loose the ability to use their arms or legs because of such an accident and I hurt for them and with them. I always think, "that could be me!"

I do not know why I was so fortunate. I do know however that it changed the way I view life. God gives us this short life and we can use it for all sorts of things. The one thing we never know is exactly how long we have to accomplish them. We can use our life to make a difference or we can waste it. Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 3 that there is a time for everything.,"a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and an time to laugh, at time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, at time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace."

The decision on how we use life changing events is up to us. They are a time to pay attention.

Oh, by the way we won the game 40-8!

Peacock Feathers

Growing up my brother and I would at times do things we shouldn't. Well, maybe more often than sometime! This however was one of those incidents that bordered on being mean and cruel. However, out of our innocence of being elementary school boys it at the time was just a simple experiment.

When we lived on 21st street in Plano we knew pretty much all the neighbors on our street and those across the alley as well. One family with whom we went to Sunday services came over frequently for a cookout. It was at one of those cookouts that I was in the room when a certain conversation took place.

It seemed that their daughter who was my age was highly afraid of feathers. An incident had occurred when she was young where here grandmother had rung the neck of a chicken for dinner and the dead fowl had flopped around and onto her sending her into a panic. From that moment on she was terrified of feathers.

Well, I told my brother and we could not understand how anyone could be so scared of feathers. It just didn't seem logical to an 8 year old. Soooooooooo, we decided to put it to a scientific experiment. My mother had two long peacock feathers in her closet. The plan was that my brother then 6 when get her into my mother's bedroom and I'd tickle her with the feathers. It went just as planned, my brother lured her in and I took the feathers and lightly touched her face.

Guess what! She was deathly afraid of feathers and ran from the room in terror and tears. Our company went home and my brother and I received our just reward for our actions. There was no room for explanations. In addition we had to make a trip to the neighbors and give a personal apology for our actions. Fortunately, the incident did not hinder the continued friendship of the two families and the kids involved.

There are times in our life that we do things we know we're not suppose to do. So why do we do them anyway? Are we just stupid? Maybe. Do we not care? Sometimes perhaps. But Paul gives us the best answer as he wrote in Romans 7, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

Life is a struggle where we have both good and evil tugging at us. It's kind of like the old cartoons where we have an angel on one shoulder and and a devil on the other. What we have to decide is which one we are going to listen to. In the end we can only win the war by listening and acting on what God tells us and not what the world wants us to do.

Nope!

A long, long time ago in a town far, far away the congregation that I was working with decided to have a "gospel" meeting. The meeting was to last from Sunday night to Thursday night and everyone was expected to invite someone to the service. My youngest son was around three or four at the time and on the first night of the meeting sat with one of the elders and his wife while Kathy and I were working with the older children in a separate Bible Hour.

The crowd the first night was decent, but rather disappointing to the leadership. The speaker for the meeting began to encourage everyone to bring someone to the meeting the next night. He talked about asking your neighbors and those with whom you worked. He preached about how it's really not that hard to just ask. They could say yes and come or not come or at worst just say no.

All the time my son was looking down at some papers, drawing as he sat quietly between the elder and his wife. Then came the challenge. The preacher talked about the motivation we have to ask others to come. He ended with the mock challenge, "I'll bet if we gave you a hundred dollars for bringing a visitor to the meeting that every one of you would bring someone, wouldn't you!

My son, head down, drawing, without looking up spoke up loud enough for the preacher and those several rows around to hear, "NOPE!" The preacher was stopped dead in his words and there was a momentary pause before several around broke into laughter, including the preacher.

The preacher turned to the audience and said, "Well maybe not everyone, but I bet most of you would!"

What is it that motivates us to do good works? Does it take a challenge? Does it take a good talking too? Does it take money? Or is it something deeper? Is it something that grows within us and just makes us want to do good?

The answer is simple. We do good because that is what we were created to do! Ephesians 2:10 "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

That's really all the motivation we should need. Simply that God asks us to.

(Image courtesy of http://www.clipartheaven.com/)

I Owe 7-11 97 Cents

It was a hot summer night in 1964 when a group of my high schools friends and I were cruising around our hometown of Plano, Texas. Back then it was small and there wasn't really much to do. That's usually when a group of guys does something that they shouldn't and this night was no exception for our group.

Driving down 15th street we decided that a slice of watermelon sounded pretty good on this hot night. Unfortunately, cruising around after 10:00 in 1960's Plano meant that all the stores were closed. That's when we spotted the 7-11.

I really don't remember if it was a 7-11 for sure, but at any rate sitting in front of the store was a big pile of watermelons, unattended and unguarded with a sign stating "97 cents each" on the wall behind them. This is when the group in the car went into a "Mission Impossible" mode. Fortunately, I don't remember who was in the car so I cannot implicate them and besides the "statute of limitations" has probably run out. Anyway, the driver of the car pulled into the parking lot about 10 feet from the pile of melons. His job was to keep the motor running.

I was in the back seat driver's side. My job was to keep my eyes pointed west to warn the group if a car was coming. The front passenger stood by the door looking east for the same thing. The back right passenger,when the coast was clear sprinted to the pile of melons, grabbed the biggest he could see and raced back to the car, watermelon in hand. The melon was tossed in the back seat, the sprinter and two lookouts hopped back into the car and the driver quickly but quietly eased back onto the main thoroughfare heading West. It went off perfectly. It was a successful raid, unnoticed and unknown by anyone but those in the car.

The criminals headed west to the city park. We pulled up to a picnic area, took out the melon sliced and ate. It was the worst tasting watermelon that I had ever eaten. Not because it was a bad melon, but the guilt I felt for having done something I knew was wrong was so intense, I just didn't feel like eating the prize. I never did it again.

Paul wrote, in 2CO 1:12 "Now this is our boast: Our conscience testifies that we have conducted ourselves in the world, and especially in our relations with you, in the holiness and sincerity that are from God. We have done so not according to worldly wisdom but according to God's grace."
To live like Christ we must have a clear conscience, one that listens to God and not the world. God gives us a conscience to help remind us of what is right and wrong. Because of this it's important that we learn to listen to our inner being, which is constantly reminding us what we were taught.

Ninety-seven cents isn't much from a monetary standpoint, but it's a fortune from a Godly standpoint. You see, it's not the amount that made it wrong it was the action. My conscience was telling me this that night in the park over 40 years ago and it reminds me of it even today.

Piccalo

Growing up in the 50's and 60's segregation of races was something that was just a part of life. In the small town in which I lived black and white mixed very little. Part of town was designated as "colored" town. The schools were separate and the only time I can remember stepping into the black school building was when some of our science class were asked to judge the science fair contests. Not only was housing segregated but so were the theater, water fountains, restrooms, restaurants, and any other public facility.

At the local Gulf station there was a congenial black man who worked there whose name I recall was Piccalo. I don't know how he got the nickname but it may have been from eating Pickle Loaf sandwiches with Piccalo being the derivative. He was a nice guy as I remember, but most of all I remember one particular event. My dad and his friend were in the front seat of the car with his son and me in the back heading out of town for a football game. Piccalo came over to the car to greet us as he usually did. After greeting the dads up front he looked in the back window to talk to us boys. He happened to touch the other boy on the arm and the boy went berserk. Screaming for him not to touch him because he didn't want to turn black!

Needless to say this was embarrassing for everyone in the car. But who told him he'd turn black if touched by a black person? Chances are it was a relative, maybe his father, but certainly someone who he believed when it was told to him. Prejudice is like that. Prejudiced toward people for whatever reason is not something with which we are born. There are things that happen in our life or people who teach us certain things that cause us to develop these feelings.

In 1949 the song writing team of Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote a play entitled "South Pacific" based on James Michener's book "Tales of the South Pacific". The play deals with prejudice with one song, "You've Got to be Carefully Taught" being the central theme of the story. The song was the subject of widespread criticism and it was suggested that it be removed or the play would flop. One southern state even introduced a bill that would make it unlawful to have songs that promoted "communism". As to this song one lawmaker stated "a song justifying interracial marriage was implicitly a threat to the American Way of Life".

Lieutenant Cable introduces the song with the statement that racism is "not born in you! It happens after you’re born..."

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!

Unfortunately, many of us have our prejudice feelings because of the time in which we grew up or due to the way we were reared. We too often carry on the feelings and views of our past instead of making an effort to change the world of today.

I wish we could say that this is not a problem in our society today, but we all know that is far from the truth. Every part of the country has some group that is the target of prejudice in one way or another. Within cities and towns we still see the divisions in communities, social events and even churches. You hear it in the language, in the stares and in the actions of people of all nationalities and races. It is certainly worse for some than others, but no one is immune from being either the target or the perpetrator of prejudicial actions and thinking.

Romans 2:11 tells us that God does not show favoritism. Looking a 1 Samuel 16:7, "The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart".

There is only one way that prejudice and racism will ever be eliminated in the world in which we live. That is simply to teach ourselves and our children to look at people through the eyes of God.

The Hands of Time

I like music because of the message that a song can bring in ways that talking simply cannot express. The song "Hands of Time" by Michel Legrand (Music) and Marilyn and Alan Bergman (Lyrics) is one of those songs. Not only does it have a beautiful melody it's message is something that we all ponder from "time to time".

The Hands of Time

If the hands of time were hands that I could hold,
I'd keep them warm and in my hands,
They'd not turn cold.

Hand in hand we'd choose the moments that should last,
The lovely moments that should have no future and no past!

The summer from the top of a swing.
The comfort and the sound of a lullaby.
The innocence of leaves in the spring.
But most of all the moment when love first touched me!

All the happy days would never learn to fly.
Until the hands of time would choose to wave good-bye!

Wouldn't it be nice if we could revisit those moments in life when we were the happiest... To know the love that once brought sparkles to our eyes! Or maybe the time we held our child for the first time. Summers running through the grass barefooted. The screams of joy as the bike was let loose and we rode it for the first time. The home runs. The touchdowns. The recitals. Sunday picnics at the lake. Homemade ice cream in the backyard. Christmas morning as a kid. Christmas morning as a parent! Our first car. Our first house. Going to grandma's house. The family vacation.

If you really stop and think about it life has so many more good times and memories than bad ones. Somewhere along the line a lot of us tend to lose the joy that can come from the world God has given us. We become a little too serious. We get angry easily. People get on our nerves. We have a tendency to focus on the negative of life instead of the good.

As Paul wrote in Galatians 5:22 "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy... Joy! We tend to forget that one, but there it is right after love. Right there in Paul's list! As the hands of time pass we should continue to dwell on the joy of today and the smiles of yesterday. If our heart and thoughts are always focused in this way then those sad and gloomy days will break apart with the warmth of which the joys of life continue to remind us.

Here it is from a You Tube post (Also known as Brian's Song):



Photo at top of story courtesy of Shareware Connection free download.

The Peach Tree Incident

When I was in elementary school my mother planted a peach tree in the back yard. That was the time when during the summer months all the kids played outside in either your yard or some neighbor's yard. Ours was no different. It was a football field, baseball field and golf course.

There were clotheslines with Yellow Jacket nests in the ends of the poles. There was a swing set, part of which worked. We had a chain link fence with a gate to the alley and Honeysuckle vines growing the entire length of the fence and of course more Yellow Jacket nests mingled with a few honeybees.

One spring my mother decided to plant a peach tree in the backyard. Since the backyard is the domain of every young boy the tree was actually in the way of several athletic activities. It covered the end zone and made us move the baseball park to the other end of the yard.

One summer the tree looked much like the one in the picture above, well shaped with full leaves and blossoms starting to emerge. As you know summer is baseball season and with baseball season comes gloves, balls, bats and bases. The peach tree was third base.

Then that summer came the incident. I'm not sure what made it transpire but nevertheless it happened. My little brother, baseball bat in hand, proceeded to take the peach tree apart, limb by limb, top to bottom. By the time he was through one whole side of the tree was completely gone. It looked like a buzz saw had gotten hold of the north side of this little peach tree. About that time my mother exited to the back yard form the screen door. I'll leave the rest of this incident to your imagination.

Mother was crushed that this had happened. Her beautiful tree now looked rather lopsided to say the least. Somehow it made it through the summer, winter and then in the spring it began to bring on new life. The limbs on the victimized side began to sprout and before you knew it the tree looked as if it had never gone through any trial at all. In fact after my brother's carefully planned pruning job the tree came out better than before producing peaches that same summer.

Life is much like the peach tree. We can go on day to day with things looking and feeling just great. We grow and blossom and enjoy the world around us. Then one day something happens and it seems like the entire world comes crumbling down around us. We wonder "how can I go on after this?" We retreat to a shell or become angry at the world and wonder again "why me, Lord, why me?"

But God in the midst of our trials still says "I love you" and puts his arm around you and helps you make it through those tough times. It may take a while, but eventually you can overcome the devastation and once again grow back to being the person you were before, but this time better for having weathered tough times. Isaiah wrote in Isaiah 41:10, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." And Jesus told us in Mt. 28:20, "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

So next time you feel like someone has taken a baseball bat to your life and heart. Just remember that God is still there beside you nourishing you and encouraging you to not give up and reminding you that you'll bloom again.

North Platte Canteen

One of the beautiful stories that comes out of World War II is the story of the North Platte Canteen of North Platte Nebraska. One day in late 1941 the North Platte Bulletin received a letter from a 26 year old woman, Rae Wilson. She spoke of how the mothers of the boys in World War I set up canteens along the railways for the troops as they traveled across country. On December 22, 1941 the businessmen and civic leaders of North Platte, Nebraska met and said "why can't we do the same?" A committee was selected and on December 25, 1941 the North Platte Canteen was opened.

For the remainder of the war people from 125 communities in the North Platte area sacrificed their time and talents to provide snacks, magazines, small gifts and entertainment to the troops as they crossed the country by train on their way to camp or service. On some days as many as 5000-8000 soldiers were treated with love and hospitality at the North Platte Canteen.

Soldiers heard about the canteen through the grapevine and every train load looked forward to that stop. If there was no time to get off the train the townspeople would board the train and pass out the gifts. If it were a birthday the soldier would get a cake baked by one of the ladies. The people of North Platte and the surrounding area became mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters to the soldiers on their way to war.

The people of North Platte met every train from December 25, 1941 through April of 1946 with cookies, coffee, snacks, magazines but most of all love. In those years they served more than 6 million soldiers. It was a whistle stop that every American soldier would never forget.

To truly care for someone means more that just saying thanks or using mere words to express our feelings. To truly care means to take action. The world is full of "gonna doers". It is full of people who have good intentions. But the true people who care are the ones who say "why can't I do that" and then go out and do it.

For more info on the North Platte Canteen check out the website:

http://npcanteen.net

Trouble in the Amen Corner

It was a stylish congregation; you could see they'd been around
And they had the biggest pipe organ of any church in town.
Now over in the amen-corner of that church sat Brother Eyer,
And he insisted every Sunday on singing in the choir.

His voice was cracked and broken, age had touched his vocal chords,
And nearly every Sunday he'd get behind and miss the words.
Well, the choir got so flustered the church was told in fine
That Brother Eyer must stop his singing or the choir was gonna resign.

So the pastor appointed a committee, I think it was three or four,
and they got in their big fine car and drove up to Eyer’s door.
They found the choir’s great trouble sitting there in an old arm-chair,
The summer’s golden sunbeams lay upon his snow-white hair.

Said York, “We’re here dear Brother, with the vestry’s approbation
to discuss a little matter that affects the congregation.
Now, it seems that your voice is interfering with the choir,
So, if you’ll just lay out, or...Are you listening, Brother Eyer..?”

The old man raised his head, a sign that he did hear;
and on his cheek the three men caught the glitter of a tear.
His feeble hands pushed back the locks as white as silky snow,
and he answered the committee in a voice both soft and low:

“I wonder if beyond the tide that’s breaking at my feet,
in that far-off heavenly temple where my Master and I shall meet:
Yes, I wonder if, when I try to sing the songs of God up higher
I wonder if they’ll kick me out of singing in Heaven’s choir?”

A silence filled the little room, the old man bowed his head;
The committee went on back to town, but Brother Eyer was dead.
The choir missed him for a while, but he was soon forgot.
A few church-goers watched the door, but the old man entered not.

Far away his voice is sweet, and he sings his heart’s desires
Where there are no church committees and no fashionable choirs.

by Archie Campbell

This is a poem that I remembered from long ago. It always reminds me of what was written in 1 Samuel 16:7 "The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."


Just imagine what the world would look like if more people started looking at others through the eyes of God instead of through the eyes of their own bias! Unfortunately, we're quick to pass judgment based on what we think about things instead of what God thinks. Jesus taught us before we criticize others and the small issues they have to stop and look at the big issues that we have in our own lives (Matthew 7:1ff). Next time before you criticize someone, pause and think about yourself and how imperfect you may be in their eyes. Then as Jesus says, "you will see more clearly".

Clipart Courtesy of www.free-clipart-pictures.net