I believe the one thing that made it easier for my parents to say goodbye was that they knew there was a body of believers in Dasher, Georgia eagerly awaiting my arrival. Hugh and Jewell Guthrie had driven their truck and trailer to Oklahoma and moved everything for me. When I arrived in Dasher sometime around 12:30 AM I went directly to the Hyta House where I expected to find a trailer full of my belongings. There was no trailer. For some reason an empty feeling came over me. I guess I just wanted the assurance that everything had arrived and was safe.
Bummed, I got out of the truck and let the dogs run a bit in the yard. When I opened the back door, I immediately realized that everything had already been moved into the house. Each box was appropriately placed in the room for which it was labeled. Boxes not labeled were placed in spare bedrooms - there were even sheets on my bed.
That was truly a sign of the times to come for me in Georgia. Over the next five years I grew passionate about Georgia Christian School and the value of Christian education. I grew closer to the families that I worked with and whose children attended the school. I met alumni that were sent here in the 40’s and 50’s to live in the dorms and attend school at Dasher Bible School, and I heard their stories of spiritual transformation. I learned of the history of restoration in the Lord’s church in this area and the role the school had played in church growth. I’ve learned the value of commitment and understanding the real cost of sacrifice for something in which you believe.
When I began looking for church home, I felt it would only be fair to look at congregations outside of the community in which I lived. There were many that I visited and each and every one is filled with wonderful, beautiful people. But I never felt a connection with a body until I visited the Central Avenue Church of Christ in Valdosta. The very first day I attended, I knew this was the place I wanted to worship. I placed membership with the congregation in late January or early February of 2001.
Fast forward now to October 2002. Time was flying by but I loved my new life in Georgia. I had made many friends at work, at church and in the community. Then, one night after Sunday evening services, I went to Wendy’s to get something to eat. I had done this many times, but this night would be so different from the rest. When I walked in I recognized a large group of 39’ers (Sr. Saints, people over 55-60’ish) from Central. While I recognized faces, and some recognized me, we didn’t know each other well. Upon making eye contact, smiling and saying hello, they immediately asked me to join them. Sister Carolyn Brinson jumped up and began moving another table and chairs to the group so there would be room. She insisted I sit – and I did.
They liked me, and I liked them. We sat and talked for a long, long time. They asked lots of questions and I made them laugh. About a month later they invited me to a 39’er fish fry. Many joked with me asking me what I was doing at a fish fry for (older saints) 39’ers. I just happened to be 39 at the time and told them point blank that I was the only one there that was 39 years old, and the rest of the group were not telling the truth. Again, I made them laugh. Little did I know that after that night they would begin plotting.
My birthday is February 19. I tried to figure out a way to make turning 40 years old monumental. I thought about taking a trip. I thought about going home to celebrate with my family or with friends in Oklahoma and Texas. But one evening I received a call at the house. It was from Barbara Colson, a dear friend and the secretary of the Board of Directors of Georgia Christian School. She informed me that a group was planning a gathering of “donors and possible donors” at the McMullen Club House the very weekend of my birthday. The board felt I needed to attend this gathering and that I should be prepared to represent the school.
After pouting for a few weeks and a week of fighting the flu, I begrudgingly got dressed for the occasion. Barbara and Wally said I could ride with them. When we arrived, the clubhouse was packed with nearly 70 friends from church and school. They gathered to surprise me and celebrate my 40th birthday. My coworkers had covered so well I expected anything but this. I honestly felt like I was going to pass out. Moments later when I was surprised by my sisters Valarie and Laura, I broke into tears.
I know for a lot of people, a surprise birthday party or visit from family is nothing to cry about. The surprise party did not make me cry. The reality that this group of brothers and sisters in Christ cared enough about me to go to such great lengths to assure I would not be spending my birthday alone is what brought me to tears. I had no idea they cared so much.
Over the seven-plus years since that night, I’ve grown closer, and closer, and closer to the body believers at Central Avenue – specifically the 39’ers. With some, we have become family. Their kindness and generosity has had such an immense impact on, not only my life, but who I am! I know firsthand how something as simple as inviting someone to dinner can change a person’s life. I know how inviting someone to sit with you in worship service can change your spirit. I know how simply including someone can make a stranger feel at home in a new place. I know more and more what it means to be like Christ.
These are not new values to me. You can read previous posts and know that I come from a family that shares this same faith and these same values and practices. But until I found myself 1200 miles from “home,” I took these values for granted. Now I know their worth. Now my heart aches for those outside the body of believers who long for this connection.
When I began these thoughts in Part I, I said I was happy with ME. More importantly, I’m happy with what brought me to this place. I thank God every day for a congregation and faith family that recognizes the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. In these ten years I’ve opened my heart and life for the first time to let that Spirit guide me. Do I fail? YES! Have I mastered the art of giving up self? NO, NO, NO, I fight it every day. But I do feel His presence, I acknowledge His presence, and I challenge myself every day to let Him lead. Thus – I am happier with me.
You see, I no longer beat myself up because I fail every day. I no longer lie in bed at night and wonder if I should just give up because I know I can never be good enough. I no longer wonder if God will ever forgive me for the things in my past for which I am ashamed. I do know that Christ came so that we might live life more abundantly, and I intend on doing my best to live up to that every day. I thank God daily for leading me to this place.
Bubba
Happy Anniversary - Part I
For weeks now I’ve been planning to write something profound here that would justly document the last ten years of my life. You see, Sunday October 24 was the 10 year anniversary of the day I loaded my truck with the last of my belongings, my two dogs, and headed to Georgia. I seem to have hit a road block. I don’t know where to begin or how I want the piece to end. What I do know is that I’ve been happier these past 10 years than I have been in all my life. More importantly, I’ve been happier with me!
To understand what the last decade as meant to me, I suppose you would need to know what led me here. Let’s begin by going back to the summer of 2000 and southern Oklahoma.
In 1993 I began working for the Oklahoma Department of Human Services in the Division of Children and Family Services. More specifically, I worked in child welfare. I had worked hard, proven myself to be dependable, passionate about children, and a public advocate for children. My supervisors noticed this and I advanced quickly in the division and was promoted a few years before the policy standard. This was great for me professionally, but hard for me personally because I was criticized and disliked by those who had labored longer and thought they deserved the promotions based simply on years of service.
Nevertheless, I found colleagues that would become lifelong friends. We supported each other. We learned how to laugh out loud when your heart was breaking on the inside. We understood that when dealing with child abuse and neglect you are dealing with the ugliest side of humanity. It takes a special person to make a career in that field. I guess I wasn’t that special.
As I advanced to the state office adoptions unit, I daily worked with wonderful people that truly wanted to make a difference in children’s lives. But I also worked with the legal system, and I worked with lazy case workers. I worked with children that had been abused, neglected, and abandoned. Eventually, it would all take its toll. I came to a point when I simply didn’t know how to handle situations. I knew what the law and policy stated, but I also knew what my heart and my faith were leading me to do. While I wasn’t looking for another job, I was looking for answers to tough decisions.
One afternoon in the summer of 2000, I stopped by my house on Pine Avenue in Duncan, Oklahoma. I picked up my mail and headed back to the office with the intention of working late. After everyone had gone for the evening I pulled out my mail and began to read the most recent edition of the Christian Chronicle. It was there that I first read about Georgia Christian School in Valdosta, Georgia. They were looking for a Director of Development.
Fast forward to the evening of October 22, 2000 - All of my family living in Waurika came to Duncan to load everything I owned onto a truck headed for South Georgia. It was a happy occasion. Everyone seemed to know that this was a good thing for me. The next day, my sister Valarie and I would return to clean the house. The day after that changed my life. Sometime around 4:00 AM on the morning of the 24th I decided to stop fighting the inability to sleep and just get on the road. I quietly got dressed, walked the dogs, and woke my parents. I didn’t know what to expect. Daddy and I both cry at the drop of hat, and I feared goodbye would be difficult.
To that point, the decision to apply, interview and to move all came relatively simple. But what happened next was something I had never experience. What happened as Momma, Daddy and I gathered in the kitchen was a peace I had never felt before. I felt a sense of excitement. I saw smiles on their faces. For once in my life I was walking with God – I knew it, and they knew it.
Since the summer I had prayed more on this decision than I had ever prayed before in my life. I didn’t know what was ahead of me, but I trusted God and it felt right. I know now that my parents were praying equally as hard and they were feeling the same things. So there were no sad goodbyes; just well wishes and a challenge to have fun, and keep God in my life. As I pulled out of the drive it began to rain a little. I’ll never forget the two of them standing under the garage holding hands, smiling, and yes, happy tears.
There’s either a really great book or a tacky country and western song in all of the thoughts, reflections, plans and ideas that crossed my mind as this man and his two dogs drove 1200 miles (in one day) to his new home in Georgia. It was an adventure – a feeling I will never forget.
Bubba
