Happy Birthday, Mom and Dad

May is a month that holds several birthdays for our family. Two of them are my mother and father's.

Last night we celebrated Dad's 81st birthday, and since I'll be half way around the world when Mom's comes around this Friday - we celebrated hers also. Here's a photo that Linda made where part of our family gathered for a dinner in their honor. Mom enjoyed the salad - Dad enjoyed the attention. In case you're wondering, that's Dad wearing the hat.

As an elderly lady at a nearby table was studying Dad's new birthday hat, he told her, "I only get to wear this thing one day a year." She smiled and then refocused her attention to her plate.

The chapeau is courtesy of my younger brother, Bruce. He seems to specialize in unusual gifts for Dad. I won't go into a list of the more exotic gifts, but, if you have ever seen the green baseball cap that lights up with red letters, spelling out "Bah, Humbug" - well, Bruce is also responsible for that. We can look for that gem to come out again the day after Thanksgiving.

As we were walking toward our seats, a party at one of the tables began singing, "Happy Birthday" do Dad (obviously due to the head gear he was sporting). He and Mom stood there talking to the folks while the rest of us were seated. After several minutes my son, Benji, walked back over to the table and said "Papaw, come on and let these folks eat."

"Are you kidding?" the guy at the table answered. "We'd have to pay for a show like this anywhere else!"

Dad knows darned near everyone, so I asked him who those folks were.

"I don't know." he replied. "The guy asked, 'Aren't you Caudle Adkins?' When I said, 'Yes' he said, 'I've been listening to you on the radio for years! When I was just a young Christian, many years ago, you came to our church at Dry Branch (in Kanawha County) and held a revival. You've always been one of my favorites.'"

And so it goes.

Besides me and my brothers (Bruce and Carl) Mom and Dad have impacted many lives over the years.

Yesterday Dad turned 81. Friday Mom will be 79. I am thankful for my parents, and so grateful that I still have them. Mom will not remember the events of the evening but she had a good time, none the less.

Dad ALWAYS has a good time...

"This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118: 24

My Little Pal

Meet Matthew Asher Adkins - Grandson number four.





He is my little pal...





We celebrated Asher's third birthday this week, and it is hard for me to comprehend where the time has gone. When my mind goes back to that morning (May 12, 2005) when Asher made his first appearance at Kings Daughters Medical Center in Ashland, KY, my eyes well up with tears of joy. It was truly a bright moment in the midst of one of the darkest times of my life. This little guy was sent from God to give me hope in a time when hope was a rare commodity.



It was barely six months earlier that I had been diagnosed with "incurable, fourth stage" colon cancer. The big tumor had metastasized to my liver and a number of lymph nodes. Facing "an average survival time" of 18 to 22 months, the outlook was bleak. Linda and I were exploring every avenue of treatment, and trusting God to perform His perfect plan in our lives - whatever that might be. When Asher came into this world I was in the midst of my first six month course of chemotherapy. In fact, that very morning I waited around the hospital, I was scheduled for a chemo treatment at the Ashland Belfonte Cancer Center in nearby Russell, KY. Fortunately, Leigh Anne cooperated by delivering the little guy in time for me to meet him before hurrying along to make my appointment for the four hour drip.



Asher has been a joy.



During the tough two years that we were battling the malignancy, he was an important part of my therapy. At first I was depressed, thinking that I might never see Asher or his cousin Canon (who was born the week before my cancer was discovered) grow beyond the toddler stage. Anyone who has gone through chemotherapy knows just how bad one feels during those times of treatments. The effects are both physical and emotional. Well, Friday evenings became a time that took my mind off the troubles and sickness for a little while. Those sleep overs and other visits from Will and Asher were good medicine for me and Linda, and have built a lasting bond between us and these two local grandsons.

Asher shares the name of one of Jacob's sons in the book of Genesis. The name means "happy", which pretty much sums up Asher's existence. He is a happy little guy - until someone tells him he is not big enough or old enough to do a particular thing. I have told others that he is three - going on sixteen. Oh, how he wants to be a big boy! He is big for his age and most folks think he is older than he really is. But despite his protests of "But I AM a big boy", he still endures the frustration of standing on the sidelines watching Will play soccer, basketball, football, and baseball. He wants to play so badly too. It's just hard for him to understand why he can't be in the middle of the action when he is 6' 4" tall - on the inside...



He loves and admires his brother who is four years his senior, but he is not going to be a doormat for Will and his friends. Asher demands equal time and equal treatment, and exhibits a competitive spirit. He is a determined little guy, and one can't help but think that Asher will make his mark in life. But for now, he watches his brother, imitates his actions, and loves the times that he and Will play ball together in the back yard.




Asher has an unruly shock of curly hair that will probably be a major source of aggravation for him as he gets older (it was for me!) His little gap toothed grin will win your heart in no time. Like his brother and his two cousins in New Orleans, Asher is sharp as a tack and has a sweet, loving spirit. He is blessed to have both grandfathers close by, but he simply takes "Poppy" Clanton and "Papaw" Adkins for granted. Not long ago, in a moment of excitement, he came running up to me wanting some help with something.

"Poppy! Poppy! Poppy!" he called.

"Who?", I asked.

He screwed his face up in frustration and said, "I mean Papaw!"

I thought I'd have some fun with him so I asked, "Who is Poppy?"

Asher looked at me like I was crazy and announced, "He's that OTHER guy!"

Lance and I may just be those "two guys" to him right now, but he's pretty special to us.

More Soldiers Coming Home

Two Christians with very different gifts and ministries went to be with the Lord this week. One was a prolific songwriter and singer and the other a Pastor of a large church in the Tampa, Florida area. Both died in tragic accidents. Both impacted their world for Christ using their gifts and God given talents for building His Kingdom.

Dottie Rambo died on Sunday when her tour bus left the roadway on a Missouri highway striking an embankment. Her group was on its way to a scheduled performance in the Dallas area. The other members of her traveling group sustained injuries in the crash but Rambo was the only fatality. The western Kentucky native was well known to fans of southern gospel music. She burst on to the gospel music scene in the late 60's, winning a Grammy in 1968, and Dove awards in 1982 for "We Shall Behold Him" and 1999 for "I Go To The Rock". Over the past decade or so had become a regular on Bill Gaither's Homecoming Tour. During her prolific career, Dottie Rambo published more than 2,500 songs, including, "One More Valley", "He Looked Beyond My Fault”,“If That Isn’t Love”, "He Looked Beyond My Fault And Saw My Need", “I’ve Never Been This Homesick Before”, "To Much To Gain To Loose", "The Hills of Home", "The Church Triumphant", “If That Isn’t Love”, "Sheltered In The Arms Of God" "Remind Me Dear Lord", "Tears Will Never Stain The Streets Of That City", "In The Valley He Restoreth My Soul", "He Ain't Never Done Me Nothing But Good", and "Behold The Lamb". Dottie Rambo was 74.

On Monday, Forrest Pollack and his 13 year old son, Preston, died in the crash of his private plane in a remote area of western North Carolina. Pollack and his son had flown to Asheville, NC from Tampa for a brief stopover before heading off to a conference in Texas on Monday morning. His plane left Asheville at 5:00 AM, but concerns arose when he never reached his destination, and had made no radio contact with anyone. Search activities began and the wreckage of the plane was found in the rugged mountain terrain of The Shining Rock Wilderness area of the Tar Heel State.

The Asheville newspaper reported that Pollack had come to Asheville to visit his mother for Mother's Day. His 14 year old daughter, Brooke, had gone on the trip as well, but stayed behind with her grandmother as Pollack and Preston headed on to Texas for his preaching appointment there. The paper also reported that he had planned to stop off in Arkansas to pick up a friend on the way to Texas.

Pollack was pastor of the Bell Shoals Baptist Church in Brandon, Florida (Tampa Bay metro area). Only 44 years old, Pollack was a "mover and shaker" among Southern Baptists in Florida and throughout the Convention. In fact, he was scheduled to be a featured speaker at the upcoming Southern Baptist Convention's Annual Meeting in Indianapolis next month. He had previously served on the Resolutions Committee, the Committee on Committees, and the Southern Baptist Council on Family Life. He had authored two books, and was President of the "Large Church Roundtable" pastor's fellowship, which he founded in 1999.

Having seen him many times at convention meetings, I had only met Brother Pollack once. It was in a hotel elevator in Greensboro, NC two summers ago at the SBC meeting where he nominated South Carolina pastor Frank Page for Convention President. His nominating speech was one of the best I have ever heard as he spoke eloquently and passionately about how Page was the best man to lead us at this point in Convention history. Pollack was bright, personable, and friendly. I cannot remember seeing him when he was not smiling.

His passing leaves his lovely wife, Dawn, five surviving children, and the 6,000 member Bell Shoals Baptist Church to mourn their loss. Yesterday the church website simply bore this statement, "We grieve with hope and assurance that our Lord Jesus will lead us and carry us through these difficult times. We have lost a great brother, pastor and friend in Forrest Pollock as well as a precious little brother in Christ, Preston Pollock."

Forrest Pollack and Dottie Rambo were two very different people, with differing gifts, called into very different ministries, but both were able to make a mark for Christ during their lifetimes. It has often been said that the most important data on a tombstone is not the name of the deceased, nor the date of birth, nor the date of death. The most important mark on that stone is the little dash that separates those dates. That "dash" represents all that was accomplished in the life of the departed one. There is an old saying, "Only one life that soon will pass, only what's done for Christ will last." Dottie Rambo and Forrest Pollack used the "dash of their lives" to exalt Jesus.

May each of us do the same.

Another Great Ministry Under Way

This Saturday, May 17th, will mark the third week of Westmoreland Baptist Church's initial season of Upward spring soccer. So far, the program has been a great success.

Over 70 young people from Pre-K through 5th graders are participating in our Upward Soccer League. There are eight teams in this initial season. The level of coaching is excellent and the kids are having a wonderful time. The motto for Upward Sports Ministries is "Every Child Plays... Every Child Learns... Every Child Wins!" We have found that to be true in our Upward Basketball and Cheerleading efforts during the winter months, and the spring soccer program has proven to be a wonderful ministry.

Upward is a sports ministry begun about 25 years ago at First Baptist Church of Spartanburg, SC under the direction of Caz McCaslin, a staff member of the church. Upward is now a national program with over 2,000 local churches doing ministry to children and families through Basketball, Cheerleading, Soccer, and Flag Football. Our church has opted to try Basketball, Cheerleading and Soccer, and it has been a good fit. Over two hundred reservations were received for our Upward Basketball and Cheerleading Awards Ceremony back in March. The crowd was so large that if the league grows next season (as we believe it will) we may have to move our games from the church gym to the Westmoreland Boys and Girls Club (in the former Westmoreland Elementary School Gym), one block down Hughes Street from the church.

Soccer has already proven a bigger draw for us, and we expect that the Soccer Awards Ceremony will be even better attended than the Basketball ceremony was.

The ministry is much different than other "youth sports programs". It is truly a ministry, as every game begins with prayer and every child gets a Biblical devotional each game. No ministry such as Upward would be possible without the unselfish dedication of the leaders, coaches, and helpers. An important part of our Upward ministry is the prayer team of over 100 church members who are praying for 100 days for the success of this ministry and the safety of the children involved. The coaches are dedicated Christians, who must give testimony of their relationship with Jesus Christ. Integrity is essential in the coaches as they are the primary role models for the young people involved. The coaches are positive, dedicated to instruction and building up the lives of these children, and well educated in the Upward system.

Jeff and Tara Lockhart head up our Soccer league, and have already devoted hours of their time, as well as assuming much expenses along the way. They joyfully give of themselves in this important ministry. Even some of our senior members have gotten deeply involved in Upward. Retired guys like Thamer Calhoun, Charley Dygert and Bob Moses have donated hours of their time and talents. Wonderful folks like Dallas and Dee Ashworth and Maxine Bias, man our concession stand at each basketball and soccer contest. They are not in it to "make money" for the league, but rather to provide a service to the kids and their fans. This past Saturday I heard one mother question the cost of the concessions she had purchased.

"Are you sure that's right?" she asked.

"That's right", Dallas answered.

"That can't be enough", she protested. "You all should raise your prices".

I smiled as Dallas explained, "We're doing this as a ministry".

We'd give it away if we could...

Someone has asked if we are trying to get all the families involved to attend Westmoreland Baptist Church. The answer is, we are trying to bring Jesus to every family involved. About half of the applicants listed home churches that they regularly attend, but half have no home churches. We want to show Christ's love to them!

In closing, I want to share an email with you that I received from a lady whose family has been attending our church on a regular basis since her son participated in Upward Basketball this past winter. I'll leave her name off, but I want you to get the gist of the message:

"Pastor C.J.

I would like to thank you for making us feel so welcome. When we first moved to Hughes Street, I told my husband and kids that I wanted to start attending your church. I was a little intimidated at first because I was worried about how "welcome" I would feel and I guess that's why it took me so long to start coming. The Upward Basketball program was the little 'push' that I needed. I feel like I've been a part of the church forever. I really do feel at home. Everyone there is so friendly. Thanks again. "

Now THAT's what I'm talking about! That's part of what makes Upward such a special ministry. I thank the Lord for opening this wonderful door of ministry to us at Westmoreland Baptist Church.

I highly recommend it.

Happy Mother's Day

These are some of the women in my life whom I have dearly loved. I'm sorry that I do not have photos of my grandmother Stidham and a better photo of my grandmother Adkins.

Pictured here are my mother, my wife, my mother in law, my daughters in law and their mothers, an old photo of my Dad's family, and my great grandmother. All are (or were) special mothers.

So, I really have nothing profound or charming to say today. Just a simple wish to the ladies in my life, and for all the other mothers who may read this blog -

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

We Are Marshall

I watched the movie again last weekend with my 7 year old grandson. Will went with us to the theater when "We Are Marshall" first came out, and he has asked to see it again several times. I don't watch the DVD often, but whenever I do, it never fails in bringing tears to my eyes. Most likely any Huntingtonian who remembers that night in November 1970 has a similar flood of emotion when the film is shown.

Most of us can remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard the news of the Southern Airways chartered plane crash at Tri State Airport, claiming the lives of most of the Marshall University football team, coaching staff, Athletic Director, sports announcers, boosters, and flight crew. I had been a classmate of a number of the players at Marshall. My doctor and his wife were on that plane. The parents of several of my friends were also aboard. Our neighbor, WHTN Sports Director, Ken Jones lost his life as well. It would have been hard to find anyone in Huntington who would not have been touched by the tragedy.

I had transferred from Marshall to Free Will Baptist Bible College in Nashville to prepare for the ministry only a semester before the crash. Several guys in the dorm were talking that evening about the results of various college football games. Alabama, North Carolina, Georgia, and South Carolina were the favorites of most of the southerners in the dorm. I asked if anyone had heard how Marshall had done and Grady Holder said, "I think I heard they lost to East Carolina."

"Oh well", I thought, "Same old same old."

It wasn't until I climbed into bed that night that I turned on the radio. That was my usual routine, with the radio turned down low, listening to Scott Shannon, I generally dropped off to sleep pretty quickly. At the top of the hour (11:00 PM) the regular five minute news report came on with the lead story that a plane carrying the Marshall University Football team had crashed upon landing at Tri State Airport in Kenova, WV.

I couldn't believe what I heard. Sitting straight up in the bed, I asked myself, "Did I dream that?" My roomate was home for the weekend so there was no one to verify what I thought I had just heard. I quickly put on my pants and made my way to the pay phone on the third floor in the stair well at Goen Hall. I called the radio station and the DJ answered after a number of rings.

"WMAK"

"Did I understand that there was a plane crash in Huntington, WV?" I asked. "What can you tell me about it?"

"I don't know a lot" he said. "It was a college football team and everyone on board is believed to be dead."

"My God!" I gasped. "I know some of those guys."

"I'm sorry, man. That's really tough. I sure hate it for you..."

Immediately I called home and Dad filled me in on what was known of the tragedy at that hour. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind and suddenly I felt so very, very far from home. Over the course of the next few days, I poured over newspapers, caught the TV news when I could, and called home often. The more I learned about the various friends and neighbors who had been lost, I just felt more and more helpless, and incredibly sad...

Now, nearly 38 years later, the feelings come rushing back every time I see the movie. I know that director McG. employed some theatrical license, but basically the story is based on fact. It succeeded in bringing the old memories flooding back, and I wonder where the time has gone. There was the deep sense of loss in the community. Then the years of frustration as the football program slowly went forward. The frustrations of the 70's - the hope and promise of the 80's - and the championship seasons of the 90's. What a great story, and a great movie to keep it new in our minds. Now I have grandchildren who are fascinated by the story and love the movie.

Upon seeing the movie for the first time, Will asked me about the fountain. "Do you know where that is Papaw?"

"Sure do, would you like to go see it?" I asked.

He couldn't wait. He generally spent the night with us on Friday, so that Saturday, Linda and I took him up to Huntington for his first visit to the Marshall Campus. After visiting the fountain, I asked him if he would like to see the grave site and memorial in Spring Hill Cemetery, and we made the trip up 20th Street hill to visit that sacred spot. Will is a Marshall Football fan now. He loves to go to the games, and thanks to "We Are Marshall" he will never forget what transpired in Huntington, thirty one years before he was born.

I think it's important that we never forget.

Perhaps the movie will cause a whole new generation of fans to remember the ones who lost their lives, and to build a sense of pride in what has been accomplished after such a great loss.

"From Ashes to Glory" indeed.

I am proud when I hear Will and his little brother, Asher, say, "We are... Marshall!"

Every Pastor's Bad Dream

"Pastor", the voice on the other end of the line says, "This is Bill down at the funeral home."

"Yes Bill, how are you?" the pastor asks.

"Fine sir. One of the members of your church has passed away, and the family has asked if you would be able to handle the funeral service on Thursday..."

The pastor is shocked. He has a number of sick members to whom he has been ministering lately, but none of them seemed to be near death. Perhaps it is one of the many homebound members - some of whom are in nursing homes and convalescent centers. Maybe there has been a terrible accident. Many thoughts run through his mind.

"Of course I will Bill. Who is it?" he asks.

"Gladys Hornbuckle", the Funeral Director says matter of factly.

"Gladys Who?", he thinks. The pastor doesn't ask it audibly, of course, but he is dumbfounded. Who in the world is Gladys Hornbuckle? He racks his brain, but to no avail. It's no one he seems to remember. There are a number of members of the church who would be classified as "inactive", but in his 10 years as pastor of the church, he has a general idea of whom most of them are. Some members are no longer residents of the community but have kept their membership at the old home church. Maybe Gladys was one of those, he muses. He only has a moment to consider the question.

"The family is here with me now, making the arrangements", says Bill. "The service will be as 2:00 PM on Thursday. What shall I tell them?"

"Sure, Bill. Tell them I will be happy to try to help." the pastor replies. "Please give me the name and phone number of whoever is making the arrangements, and I'll get in touch with them by this evening."

The pastor spends part of the afternoon researching Gladys Hornbuckle. He finds that she is on the "inactive member" list. Only one or two of the long time members he inquired of thought they might remember the late Mrs. Hornbuckle. One of the members of the Membership Committee remembered several telephone conversations with Gladys. That committee meets periodically trying to manage the information regarding MIA church members. Notes of that committee indicated that Gladys did still live in the community and had been contacted on several occasions, each time replying, "I know I need to get back in church. That's my church and I love it, but I just need to get back in the habit." The pastor allows for how he would like to have a dollar for every time he had heard similar comments over the years of his ministry.

Later that evening the pastor calls the cell phone number given to him by the Funeral Director. He speaks to the daughter of the deceased.

"Mother really loved that church", she says. The voice on the other end sounds seems genuinely convinced of Gladys' devotion to her church.

"Where did your mother live", the pastor asks.

"About a mile from the church" is her answer.

"Was she homebound?"

"No".

Confused, he continues. "Had she been ill for some time?"

"No" the daughter says, "She's really been in pretty good health for someone her age. This was just a sudden stroke that took her."

The pastor expresses his sympathy for her loss, but struggles to try to learn more about the situation. "I don't think I have ever met your mother. Had she been attending another church?"

"No. She really loved your church. She was baptized there forty two years ago. She took us to Sunday School there when we were little kids. We wanted to have the funeral service at the church because she really did love that place, but I think it would have cost extra to have it there - having to use the hearse for an extra trip and all."

"When was the last time your mother was here?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure."

"How about you?"

"Oh, it's been a while since I was there", the daughter says. "My favorite member was Mr. Wayne. He's really a great Sunday School Teacher. How is he?"

"Well, Brother Wayne passed away about five years ago" the pastor replies.

"Oh".

"Do you attend church regularly somewhere?" he continues.

"No. We work so we really don't have much time for that."

The pastor sighs, "I see". He's had this conversation before, so he seeks to find out more about the deceased.

"When might I come by and talk to you about your mother?" he asks. I would like to have more information if I am going to do her funeral service.

"Well, what do you need to know? It's all in the obituary."

"Is there any particular scripture reference that she may have considered her favorite?"

"No", comes the reply. "I think she kind of liked the Psalms. Probably something from Psalms."

"Do you have any plans for any particular music during the service?"

"Don't you all have someone who can do that?", comes the incredulous reply.

"Well, we do have some musicians and vocalists, but if you wanted one of them, it would help if you had some particular information about favorite songs, etc."

"What would that cost?"

"I'm sure most of them would not have any set charge for doing music at a funeral service, but most of them might have to take time off from work to do so."

"Well, the funeral home told us we could have recorded music."

"That's true. That particular funeral home has an organist, or they can offer a number of beautiful recorded hymns. Did your mother have any favorites?"

"Well", says the daughter, "I thought I might have Vince Gill's 'Go Rest High On That Mountain', Nat King Cole's 'Unforgettable', or 'I Did It My Way' by Old Blue Eyes - she really liked that one."

"I'll bet she did" the pastor says to himself.

The conversation continues, but I will spare you further details...

Every pastor has had a similar conversation. Some of us who have been around a long time have had several of them. After 37 years in the ministry I am still amazed at the number of people who identify with a particular local church, but never darken the door. They say how much it means to them and how they love the people, but it has been so long since they have attended, most of the congregation doesn't even know who they are.

Now, there are legitimate reasons for some members to be missing. Genuine health problems can keep some away. Some are bedfast and genuine shut ins, but how many times have we heard the health excuse, yet regularly see the "sick folks" at the grocery store, beauty shop, or going to the local bingo game? More times than some might imagine!

Eventually, that final appointment comes, and the family is left to plan the funeral service, and a conversation like the one above ensues. Sometimes these situations remind me of a little verse on a card my Dad use to carry in his Bible. It bore a photo of a hearse in front of a church building and the text read:

Every time I pass the church,

I stop to pay a visit.

Else someday when I'm carried there-

The Lord may say, "Who is it?"

"...not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching." - Hebrews 10: 25 (NKJV)