Picking up the running ...

A few days after my last post I broke down and got some more running shoes. I should've done it sooner. There are a lot of hills in our neighborhood and running shoes don't last as long on a big guy like myself. Imagine a semi having to go up and down mountains constantly -- the tires are going to wear down as are the brakes. Going down one hill near my house in early July I found myself looking for the sandy pit off to the side for an emergency stop.

While visiting my in-laws in Alabama, I looked into getting the Nike shoes that sync up with your iPod and monitor your progress. I've never spent more than $40-$50 on a pair of running shoes and didn't like what I saw in these things climbing to $80, $90, and more than $100. I finally saw a pair that had been marked down to $50, presumably because they weren't that great looking. Being a dude, I didn't care. The idea is I'm going to be running in these things, not modeling on the catwalk ... on the catwalk, hey ... doin' my little walk on the catwalk ...

Well, I'm hooked. I was worried the technology would be cool but the shoes would hobble me like an arthritic Budweiser horse, but that's not the case. Yes, I'm giving them a thumbs up. Just wanted to give my endorsement for those crazy kids at Nike and help them get their little business off the ground.

Last month, I set a goal for myself of running 60 miles. You gazelles out there do that in a week. For Clydesdales such as myself it's quite the undertaking. Well, not only did I make the goal but I started on the 6th and finished on the 30th. I love how you can track your progress and goals online. Your results from your latest run(s) are instantly sent to Nike Plus when you hook up your iPod as well.

Goals are to use the training program to get my 10K time under an hour. I'm hovering a few minutes above that right now. Soon hopefully I can go from being a semi to at least a moving van or something.

Running

It seems like I've hit a wall in my running. I tap out at only two miles, which is pathetic. Mental toughness is the biggest part of it. This morning I tried wearing my old shoes (the newer ones developed a hole in the air cushion-ey part and made a flatulent-sort of sound when I pushed off). About a mile and a half in I realized why I had relegated them to yard-mowing duty in favor for the new ones - it was jarring and felt like I was running in sandals. At my size you need a lot of padding on the ole tires.

Usually I can go 5 and even 6 miles before calling it quits. One thing that makes it harder is that in running around my neighborhood I'm back at my house every two miles. It's sooo easy to just pack it in and go inside. There are a million reasons to do so as well (need to get ready for work, check my email, it's Arbor Day, etc.). I've just got to toughen up and maybe get "Eye of the Tiger" playing on a loop on my iPod.

Why can't technology catch up?

I have this rant every time I go to the dentist. It begins with the framework of us being a very technological society. People living 15-20 years ago wouldn't recognize our lifestyles at this point. Small, tiny portable phones are capable of ordering a pizza or giving us a map of Machu Pichu. We take organs out of dead people and place them into living people. I write something on a computer screen here and almost instantly someone on the other side of the planet can read it. All that's pretty neat.

With that in mind, why is the dental world still using the tiny little hook?

Surely we can do better than this. It doesn't matter what office I'm in. I could go to Dr. Bob Marley, wolf down the complimentary brownies in the waiting room, and I'll still be tense when the sharp little hook is coming toward my very soft gum tissue. During the scraping I'm a full-blown body cramp. It's an especially nice touch to have hooks on either side of the torture instrument. This way I can contemplate on the hook inches from my eyes (another tender part of my body) as the other works me over.

It's 2008. I watched Val Kilmer do wonders with lasers in "Real Genius." You're telling me we can't get a teeny, tiny version of that to zap the tartar off my teeth? We have lasers that shoot into people's eyes and give them perfect vision! Take that one, ramp it up a bit, and replace the tiny hook!

Another recent advancement has replaced the twirly-brush thing, which kind of resembles a small circular buffer for your teeth. Sandblasting technology apparently has now advanced to give us the new teeth-cleaner. Not sure if I'm on board with this step. It felt like a small version of those cement-cutting saws that need water flowing on them at all times, except this was going on in my mouth. It was explained to me that this tool gets the stuff between teeth the rolly-dohickey didn't, but that just made me wonder if it was worth getting rid of that stuff in between.

My disappointment with technology started with those X-ray specs in the back of comic books. Didn't work at all. I've given up on the flying car coming around. Just give me a replacement for the tiny hook and I'll be happy, at least twice a year.

The iPod revealeth ...

Probably one of the best investments I've made in the last year is my iPod. Even at 34, I'm getting a little curmudgeonly and when these little devices first came out I poo-pooed them as just an extravagant little expenditure I didn't need. Eventually I decided to get one, but not one that of those with the screen. I still don't get why you would want one of those. Sure, I can watch "School of Rock" on it, but Jack Black could be dancing on the head of a pin, he's so small. Didn't want a shuffle, either, because I wanted to be able to control what I listened to. Wouldn't seem right to be working out and wanting angry metal music coming through and something from the High School Musical soundtrack comes on (From my daughter's playlist! Don't judge!)

I ended up going with a silver little 2-gigger. When given the option of paying another 40 bucks for the extra guarantee or whatever I firmly said no. (By the way, why do I have to pay extra in case your product craps out? If something goes wrong shouldn't you be open to fixing/replacing it anyway?) For the first 6-8 months I was extry-careful with it. Since then I've dropped it on the pavement many times and it still works fine. Bogus offer for extended warranty. Came out feeling like the man on that one.

The iPod is revealing about oneself, I've discovered. It didn't take too long before I realized iTunes was my own personal jukebox to Back-in-the-Day music. I went back to the late 80s/early 90s rock tunes and got them on there before putting on some music further into the 90s from the college years. I laid off after the initial gorging and then began a curious process of putting on a song here or there -- stuff that just struck my fancy (can dudes use that term?) and I wanted then. Later at some point I would scroll through my artists and wonder things like "Trixter? When did I download Trixter? Why did I download Trixter?"

It seems that my inner old man is beginning to creep out. Lord help me, I actually listen to more podcasts than actual music. I've ID'd a few churches spread out whose pastor's sermons I like. Some other pastors I'll listen to but not often through the entire message due to them routinely going with the same preaching game plan just with a different verse. An interesting juxtaposition is that generally I check out Bible Verse of the Day immediately followed by The Onion. A couple of syndicated radio shows - Dave Ramsey and Tony Kornheiser - are in the rotation but I'm listening more and more to podcasts that have to do with writing and media. Perhaps the nerdiest thing I check out is one called Grammar Girl. Only a few minutes long (trying to justify already), it opens with a little Cacasianish hip-hop jingle followed by the correct usage of lain, or something like that. When it's over I feel a little bit smarter but a little more feminine.

Even with all of its other uses, I'm still psyched that the games in it include Breakout and Missile Command (they're called something else, but we all know what they are). This little device has been more useful that I thought it could be. More revealing about myself, too. Speaking of which, I'm about to go surf for a new podcast or two. Seems there are some out there devoted to fans of "Perfect Strangers" and the comedic genius of Bronson Pinchot.

Two giddy boys

20080330 Dad racing 010
Originally uploaded by sbarkley.

Last Sunday my dad turned 68. Since forever he's been a huge NASCAR fan. My uncle Chuck was actually the gasman for Richard Petty for years, cementing the King as my family's favorite driver and us kids with Petty T-shirts.

Twice a year we would load up with with a few other families and caravan to Talladega. It was great for us kids. Most of us would sit in the back of a pickup that had been rigged up with a makeshift camper using a collection of 2X4s and a tarp. Somehow it held together for the 2-hour drive to the raceway. The whole way we'd cut up and raid the coolers for candy bars and Cokes.

Plenty of memories from the infield, where we always watched the race, but not enough time for that. My brothers and I have talked for years about getting dad inside a car to ride around the track. Kudos for my younger brother, Lance, for finally making it happen this year. One of the coolest things about the whole experience is that there are, maybe, 40 people there the whole time counting guys working with Dale Jarrett racing (group this was done through) and other people there having their riding/driving time. You've pretty much got pit road to yourself.

In this photo, dad is holding Jackson prior to the big guy getting his jumpsuit on. I had a feeling Jack would like the cars as they raced by, but the word "giddy" would probably be more accurate to describe him. It would also describe dad at Jackson's reaction.

In that moment ...

Tonight my family went to eat at a steakhouse in Gadsden, AL. We were split up between three cars, so I was riding with my brother, his son, and my dad. After leaving the steakhouse, we pulled into the neighboring gas station because Lance wanted to get a drink.

He was in there a little longer than it should've taken, I thought. When he came out he told how a girl who had been pumping gas came running in as he walked in. She was hysterical and blathering about watching a teen girl jump out of an SUV with her hands bound and start running toward the road. The people in the SUV then drove up to where she was, jumped out, and dragged her back into the truck before tearing off down the highway.

My first response was for us to go after them, because it had happened only about five minutes earlier. However, a speeding truck can go a long way in that amount of time. Also, the police had been called and we realized there really wasn't much we could do other than pray.

It stayed on my mind the whole drive home. A lot of it didn't make sense, such as why the girl ran toward the highway instead of the store where there were people. After getting to the house I called the local sheriff's department. I was then informed that the whole thing was a prank by some idiots. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was a group I saw leave the restaurant just before us.

The whole thing got me wondering about what makes up a hero. I think everyone would like that title to be on them. At some point everyone's tied a beach towel around their neck and pretended to fly. It's in us to be something bigger. Something that rescues. Something that inspires others to be better in return.

Heroes are made in the moment. That instant in time where our decision to benefit ourselves or others comes so quickly it reveals our character rather than our skill in thinking things through. It's an army medic who runs through bullets to help her fellow soldiers. It's a teacher who couldn't read in the third grade, dropping out of school but getting his GED, and then coming back as a teacher to help kids like himself. It's saving a 1,000 people when the possible punishment is getting hacked to death along with your family.

I imagine it's also more common than we think. One factoid about life I'm convinced of is that, in general, we never hear about the true heroes. People who do good things but make sure others know about it don't impress me. Those who are the real deal are hard to find. They simply don't care about the publicity. Their goal is to save this person from their addiction or provide that person with a place to sleep for the night or convince this kid he or she is capable of so much more than the world has told them.

And that leads me to believe being a hero is not as unattainable as we might think. I'm the father of two little ones. In addition to really limiting how much sleep you get, your life changes in so many ways with these little additions. I wish I could take credit for this thought, but a podcast I listen to regularly is The Village Church near Dallas, Texas. Pastor Matt Chandler, a guy close to my age, was talking about how in the eyes of my kids, I'm a superhero. How? Little things. I toss my boy in the air, he thinks regular people can't do that. I have tea time with my daughter, she knows no other man will take that time. Wrestling in the floor or helping learn to ride a bike makes me a superhero to them.

To others, it can be just as simple. If I sacrifice something of myself to help another, I become something bigger than I was before. Risk is involved, because I may invest myself and not see a return as soon as I'd like, but that's how it goes. I'm not in it for the return. I'm in it to give.

Being a hero requires us giving more than we think we're capable. Two thousand years ago a man stressed so much over what was coming his way he sweat drops of blood in a lonely garden. He took it, though. He became even more of a hero than his followers thought possible when he allowed himself to be their sacrifice, despite the risk that most would reject him anyway.

We honor that man, Jesus, by being more than we think we're capable of in our own power and will. We embrace the risk of it all. We give more than we think prudent. We look for those who need rescuing. We find those who need inspiration. In that moment we become more ... because we allowed ourselves to become less.

At the house by myself

I woke up this morning when my wife's alarm went off at 5:30. My first thought was "I overslept."

5:30.

"Overslept."

That should tell you a little bit about my daily schedule. Newspaper delivery people and morning news anchors are the only ones who wake up earlier. Sick of trying to work in some exercise time throughout the day. I got up at 4 a.m. Tuesday and ran five miles around the neighborhood.

Crazy, yeah. I got through it mentally by pretending I was preparing to fight the indestructible Drago (who cheats by 'roiding up). Lifting rocks and chopping wood came later in the workout.

Anyway, it's Good Friday and everyone else is off at school or work except me. A perk of working at a Baptist organization is that Good Friday is considered important enough to take a day, so I'm appreciative of that.

Right now I'm in that there's-a-bunch-of-stuff-I-can-be-doing-but-do-I-feel-like-it part of the day. I'll straighten the house and maybe go run at the park. It's actually gotten warm enough that I can't ignore the fact my grass needs to be cut. The drought last summer had me accustomed to a monthly mowing schedule.

Praise Gospel and Soul 016

Praise Gospel and Soul 016
Originally uploaded by sbarkley.

Choirs from M. Zion Baptist, Thankful Baptist, and Cartersville Baptist churches have what's become an annual concert. This one held was March 3.

Daddy's breath

Tonight Amy put Rylee to bed while I rocked Jackson to sleep. After putting him in his crib I went into Rylee's room and leaned down close to her.

Rylee: Daddy, your breath smells horrible.

Me: Really? What does it smell like?

Ry: Dead peaches.

It's been so long ...

... since I've actually written on this thing. Does it still work? Can blogs go out of date like a carton of milk?

It's the third day of the new year and I've (probably subconsciously) stayed away from the word "resolution." People usually have two outward responses to it: being a champion of the ways this is going to be the year or derision.

The fact is that everyone, on some level, plans to make even the smallest change starting every Jan. 1. It's natural to. We like start points that are simple to come back to. We can make general goals (be more organized) or specific ones (lose 30 pounds). The point is no one wants to be a worse person, you hope. To become better, there has to be change.

2 Corinthians 3:16-17 says that where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. Boy, is this an easy one to read however we want to. If there's something I want to indulge in, I can go ahead because God gives me freedom to do so, right? Nope.

The Spirit of the Lord has an element to it: conviction. For us to be convicted, we have to acknowledge we've done something wrong. At that point we take steps to fix what we've messed up. This is also called confronting sin.

After the holidays we're stuffed with food and experiencing the financial hangover that comes with Christmas. We're convicted, at least a little. Some more so than others. So we make resolutions to get our lives back on track.

What happens when we stick with these resolutions? We experience some success. We see some changes. We feel freedom from those overeating or overspending habits. When change comes, it feels tough during the process. But sticking it out brings a new perspective. It brings freedom.

Biff's Question Song (Stand-up Comedy)

I learned about this song a week ago and I still can't get it out of my head.

My Name is Earl, Rudy

Earl isn't one of those shows I go out of my way to get to, but if it's on, I'll partake. I'm glad I watched last night. It was on for something like 33 minutes and 28 seconds, or some kind of funky time like that NBC tends to use from time to time.

Jist of the episode: Earl is working on the loading dock of an appliance store when he decides he wants to work up front in sales. Neither the guys working on the docks -- the "Dockers" -- and the ones working in sales -- the "Dickies -- like that he's trying to make the switch. The head boss says if Earl can sell $5,000 of stuff by the end of the week he can stay in sales.

Both groups do whatever they can to make sure Earl doesn't succeed. When it seems like Earl is about to give up, the scene happens.

Charles Dutton comes in and says, "So you didn't sell $5,000 worth. Big deal. There are bigger tragedies in life."
I realized then that they were going to do the same scene from Rudy. All of a sudden I realized how it wasn't a coincidence that Dutton, Sean Astin, and the guy who played Notre Dame head coach Dan Devine in the movie were all in this particular episode of Earl. Dutton does his whole spiel and then to top it off all the Dockers come into the boss's office -- played by the same guy who played Dan Devine -- and lay down their credit cards to buy enough items for Earl to get the promotion.

I was having to laugh at this inwardly while holding a sleeping baby. Loved it.

For a look at how Hollywood tends to dramatize things, check out the final play of that ND/Georgia Tech game from the movie and then in real life.

Ware County Wildfire

I just filed a story on Sweat Memorial Baptist Church in Waycross and its providing a temporary location for students and teachers from Ruskin Elementary School. Ruskin is dangerously close to the fire and will not be usable for days. This video gives an erie sense of what it's like to drive through the area.

Calling audibles

It's rare that an issue of The Index goes from the start of the production cycle to the end of it looking the same. Months in advance we plan for particular feature stories/series to go in or prepare for stories that relate to that time of the year, such as Easter.

I was working on the first installment of the mental health series in preparation for the March 15 issue when we realized that Easter was coming earlier this year. Joe, our managing editor, is working on a story for that issue (March 29) about a former Satanist. Each year during spring training we run a story about Christians on the Braves. This year, Dr. Harris interviewed a fairly well-known one and wrote about his testimony. That story will be in our upcoming issue.

Something else being held is a story about a member of First Baptist Quitman who died in church but was then brought back to life. We thought it would go better with the Easter issue, for obvious reasons.

Upcoming series: Pastors and mental health

This topic is one I've thought the church has needed to address for some time. The stress pastors come under is intense, and the fishbowl they and their families live in is a situation the average churchgoer has no concept of.

We've all heard stories about a minister who lost his temper and didn't handle a situation tactfully, to say the least. At times these events don't just happen due to the stress, but because there is something wrong psychologically that needs to be addressed by a professional. We live in a world where there are more pastors being diagnosed as bipolar or with clinical depression. How is the body of Christ responding to those needing help for a wound that doesn't appear on the outside?

The Index is about to run a three-part series looking at this. I'm working on the first two parts while another writer is taking care of the third installment. My first story is going to be about a pastor who was dealing with these issues and even handed his resignation in to his church ... only to see the church reject his resignation. They stayed with him. Today, 15 years later, he's still there and the ministry has grown.

Remembers those lost in Honduras

Our current issue was a tough one to get out. First of all, it was centered around the deaths of three missionaries in Honduras. Two of them attended Tabernacle Baptist Church in Cartersville. In talking to the people there I saw how these two guys, Ric Mason and Perry Goad (Perry's on the left and Ric on the right), were not the type of church members to do nothing but keep a pew warm. They got out there. They were involved. They got their hands dirty.

Perry had his own heating and air conditioning business, a venture that I learned he treated as an extension of ministry in itself. His technical skills helped the church through the television ministry – a position that isn't very noticeable until you either mess up ... or you're not there. On the Sunday after his death pastor Don Hattaway said that after services Perry would have to chase him throughout the halls of the church to pass off the DVD of that day's service so Hattaway's parents could have a copy of their son preaching ASAP.

Ric had been known in Cartersville for years as owning a couple of eating joints, the last one being The Meating Place until he sold it. In addition to his work at Tabernacle, though, he was also the executive director for The Etowah Foundation, a group that provides grant money for students to go to college. Everyone seemed to have a memory of him and how he encouraged them to be involved in missions.

The most tragic thing about the loss of these two men is that they were solid family guys – the kind that you don't hear that much about. Service comes with a price, though we often don't equate that price with our lives. I never met either one of them, but every time the world loses men like these who are willing to set the bar a little bit higher, we all feel it.

When we're wrong ...

In putting together the paper, I basically read over each page at least twice and usually more than that. In that process, your eyes can play tricks on you and mistakes that are there are simply missed. It happens. When we get the finished product from the printer every other Tuesday I have a gnawing feeling in my gut because whatever is in there, is in there. Nothing you can do about it.

That being said, the San Francisco Chronicle has come up with an interesting way for readers to inform Chronicle staff of mistakes called Correct Me If I'm Wrong ... Their first one is an instant classic and will leave you hearing the phrase "pilotless drone" all day. I was crying at the end of it. Listen to it here. Warning: the poor guy on the phone is so irate he uses slang for "tee-tee."

To read what Poynter had to say about it, click here.

Being sure about safety on missions

I've been on a few mission trips, but none in a long time and never overseas. If I were to go, I'd probably think of some of the worst scenarios I could find myself in while overseas. The story I heard from Mark Harrison, pastor of Cumming Baptist Church, confirmed one of those scenarios. It also got me thinking about some basic stuff people should think about doing before heading off overseas on missions.
Last fall Mark and a group from First Baptist Cumming were teaching English at a school in Thailand. Late one night the missionary they were helping out came to their hotel room and told them to turn on the TV. That was how they learned that the country had been taken over by the military.
Interesting enough, the missionary who told them, Rick Kuter, is from Georgia. He learned from his son, who was working in Alpharetta. A co-worker knew his parents were in Thailand and asked him if he had heard about the government being taken over. He hadn't and after seeing it on TV called his parents halfway around the world to let them in on it.
I originally had that in the published story, but because of space restrictions I had to take it out. I also just couldn't find the right place to insert it.
Another element on this I wish I could've included had to do with a member of the team who had a hard time dealing with the uncertainty of the situation. He's retired from a successful business, but just couldn't stop shaking or pull it together for awhile after hearing of the coup. Scary situation. You have no idea how the military could view Americans, especially in this day. He told his teammates later that the experience just made him realize how he was somewhere that his money couldn't get him out and he was totally dependent upon God.
In order to get some more pictures, I did a search on Flickr for photos of the coup and found some good ones. Before contacting the photographers, though, I realized there could be problems with using them. We, of course, give photo credits for pictures we use. More than likely the credit would have been the Flickr sites of the individual. I think we were under deadline at the time, otherwise I might would've checked anyway. However, I didn't want us to be linked to someone and then if a reader went to that page (since we cited it) they might see images that we wouldn't want associated with The Index. It's an avenue I still might explore someday.

Small church burns, then rebuilds

I truly can't think of why anyone would want to burn a church. It doesn't seem there are too many things worse you could do to get on the bad side of the Almighty. When a tragedy like this happens, though, sometimes it can end up being a positive.
Emit Grove is a small rural church near Statesboro in the southeastern part of the state. It sits adjacent to some cotton fields off a county road. When it burned, a lot of history and sentiment went up with the flames. When I wrote the article for the paper I didn't want to sugar-coat too badly the fact that people were angry. Although there is grace and forgiveness extended to the guy who did it, people were ticked. I know I would've been.
It's cool too see that the church is rebounding though. The new family life center has become more than what it was originally supposed to be. This is opening doors for the congregation in the community.
The only thing I regret about running this story is that we couldn't use the picture bigger. We didn't want to wait another issue, and ads had eaten up our other color space. Too bad. The lady who took this, not a professional photographer, did a really good job with it.

Pastor Stan Wilkins 1953-2006

Stan Wilkins, director of the Davis Ministry Center at Shorter College and interim pastor at Cartersville First Baptist Church, died Nov. 29 at Atlanta Medical Center due to head injuries suffered in a fall at home. He was 53.

I write obits all the time at The Index, but this one was very different. See that baby being held in the picture? He's our adopted son, Jackson Reese, all of 16 days old at the time. He's being held by our interim pastor during baby dedication Nov. 19. Nobody knew this was going to be the last time Stan would teach us from this stage. Nobody knew that in just over a week this man of love and honor would be going home.

Like everyone else, I've gone through a slew of emotions since the mule-kick-to-the-gut news that Stan had fallen off a ladder at his house and was in serious condition. There was the high of hearing improvement on Sunday before bad news on Monday and Tuesday and then getting the wrenching news Wednesday morning.

It didn't seem fair. He had too much going on. How could this possibly be in God's plan? It felt like the last third of a really great novel had been ripped from the book's spine, leaving jagged and ripped bits of paper screaming for the ending of a wonderful story that would never be told.

Following his death it seemed like everyone had a Stan story. That showed an important trait about him: No matter who you were, he had a knack for making you feel like you weren't just another face. No one was kept at arm's length. You could only get as far as the crook of his elbow as he slapped his arm around your shoulder.

He could love you and be rough with you at the same time, befitting a pastor with the initials SAW (prominently displayed on the tag of his truck). He's the only pastor I've seen call his congregation geezers and hypocrites from the pulpit and get away with it. We knew it was in jest, but it also came with a dose of truth. He talked about being Christocentric. He spoke about living for Christ. He introduced us to the phrase "hair unit."

On the last Sunday he preached, he talked about giving thanks. He said gratitude isn't exclusive -- we're to give thanks in everything. It's not emotional -- emotions will fight against gratitude, but give it anyway. Most importantly it's Christ-centered, not man-centered -- it comes from what God has done for us, not what we can do for ourselves.

It may seem like Stan was preparing for some big things coming up in his life, but the fact is that he was doing the big stuff the whole time. In mentoring seminary students, counseling church members, or assisting pastors through the association, his ripple effect will be going on for a loooooooong time. I'm grateful for the time God put him in my life. I'm grateful for the time he was willing to invest in me and my family.

Stan can keep on teaching through all the things he taught us. I can be caring and genuine the way he was. We all can. Maybe the ending of that book isn't ripped out after all. Maybe it's up to all of us who loved Stan to carry on and write the ending ourselves through whatever ways Christ has blessed us. It's a great way to honor an honorable man.