Fridays Are For Family

I was raised in a family of three boys. My brothers and I are about two years apart, very competitive and shy isn't a word that you would use to describe any one of us. We are, and always have been, very driven, loud and opinionated. So, let's just say that as we were growing up "peace and calm" was not a phrase that you would use to describe the Whitt house. There were fights in the living room, bathroom, backyard, front yard and basically anywhere else you can imagine. Holes were knocked in walls, lips were busted and noses were bloodied.

"I love you." Everybody from sociologists to pastors to grandparents tell us that these are the three most powerful words in human language. Yet, sadly, there are many children who grow up and never even hear these words spoken, much less displayed, by those who should show and say it the most - their parents. Now, I am not naturally what would be considered to be a "soft" or "sensitive" person. I don't cry at the drop of a hat. I don't normally get "misty" in the sentimental parts of movies. I don't really care for "tear-jerker" books or stories. I know, this fact may not go over well with some of my female readers, but it is simply the truth. I am not interested in, and don't really plan on, getting in touch with my "feminine side."

Over the past couple of weeks I've been thinking a lot about weddings and marriage.  That's not because I'm looking to get married again. (I'm happily married to the "wife of my youth.")  The reason marriage has been in the forefront of my mind is because as we've  reached more and more young people through the ministry at Abilene Baptist Church I have started to receive more requests for me to counsel our young couples and perform their weddings. I count this not only as a great honor; I consider it a great responsibility.

It's that time of year again. Time for those long, family road trips, "over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house..."  Or, to the house of another family member or friend. I don't think that I ever really thought much about long trips before we had our first child. "B.C.", (Before Children) Kim and I would just throw a small duffel bag in the back of the car, jump in and go.  We wouldn't stop except when we needed to gas up the car. The "end" justified any of the "means" that we had to endure to make it through a long-distance trip as fast as possible.

This past Sunday afternoon Kim, the kids and I made the nearly 12 hour trip (bottle, potty and leg-stretching stops included) from Augusta, Georgia to Milan, Tennessee for Kim's grandfather's funeral. He had been sick for several years, but his health had deteriorated quickly in recent weeks leading to his death early Saturday morning. So, after preaching Sunday morning we loaded up the family minivan and headed north toward Tennessee.

My brother told me last night that he'd told somebody recently that I'm a "very driven person." I'd never heard him make that statement about me out loud before, but I guess that I have to admit that it is true. I'm a very driven person. There are very few hours of the day - or night - that either my body, my mind or even my spirit isn't working on something. I'm always racing, and very seldom resting. In fact, I've been known to run out of gas on the side of the road a time or two because I didn't want to take the time to stop and gas up my old Ford Explorer. (That's another post for another day.)