There are abundant blessings to be found in every trial. One of the surprising blessings for me in our breast cancer journey has been meeting the sisterhood of breast cancer. That is when I first realized that bald is beautiful. These women are everywhere. And they are awesome. They are courageous. They have dignity and strength. One of my favorite t-shirts simply says… I am a REAL survivor! Not some weirdo who eats bugs and runs around scheming against one another to win big money. These survivors have looked death in the face and they have not blinked. Part of my early adapting to Joni losing her hair was watching these beautiful women come into the infusion suite at the cancer center. For those of you who have been blessed with never having to learn the terminology the infusion center is a room full of reclining chairs where you come for your chemo cocktail drip. Not exactly my idea of happy hour. But I came
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We have established a blog to keep you updated on Joni’s cancer journey. The site is Sharing the Journey. It will be updated whenever there is news to report. Blessings, Dave
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One of my smart aleck remarks that I use periodically is that “I am not burdened by that whole maturity thing.” There are many times when I go about demonstrating that in real life. But the unwelcome intrusion of “life” into my happy little routine has caused me to evaluate a lot of things. God is teaching and revealing a lot of things to me during our cancer journey. 1. I am clearly a work in progress as a follower of Jesus. 2. He has done a lot of work over the years that I was not aware of until this cancer trial came along. Last night I had the weird privilege of helping clip off the rest of my bride’s hair that was falling out from the chemotherapy. As I reflected on that moment later I realized that nearly everything I knew about beauty when I was 25 years old was wrong. Like most men I looked for appearance first and then tried to find some
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Because many of you have somehow forgotten to buy my books. (shameless link) I continue to make my primary living by directing sporting events. I am the faceless guy (actually I have a face, it just isn’t on camera) that selects the camera shots that you see during a televised game. For twenty three years I have directed Texas Rangers baseball. And this season has taught me a valuable spiritual lesson from the National Pastime. I have learned how important it is to be a good closer.   In baseball parlance the closer is the pitcher who comes into the game in the last inning to protect the lead and finish off the win. It all comes down to the closer. If he does well the collective efforts of nine position players and the pitchers that proceeded will have a happy ending. If the closer fails all of that effort is wasted. The Rangers have had to change the pitcher they
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One thing I hope is true of these humble ramblings is that they are, at the very least, honest. So I will confess that I struggle mightily with “celebrity” books. I remember when my first book was released and I visited a local book emporium. One lonely copy of my brand new baby was buried on a bottom shelf in the back. Featured on a table at the front of the store were dozens of copies of the autobiography of fifteen year old singer Charlotte Church! The title was “Voice of an Angel” and the subtitle included the obvious disclaimer…My life: (So far). Here is some of what she had learned: (so far).…what I’ve learned is that no experience goes to waste. Life is made up of building blocks. Each block makes way for the next block. Because of this there is something positive to be gained from everything you do. Just be true to yourself and be prepared to
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For the last post you were blessed with a respite from yours truly as eldest Son Matt filled this space. His words impacted me and made me think about how I view others. We really don’t know what baggage others are carrying. Here are Matt’s comments about an unwilling conversation he had on a plane with a guy who just needed to talk. He starts it.  The conversation begins with small talk. I am an unwilling, tired, frustrated twenty something that doesn’t want to talk about jobs, hometowns, or those small talk things that fill gaps in between awkward silences as I try to return to Velvet Elvis or Backpacker or Sports Illustrated only to be interrupted again. He rambles some more about life and love and all the things I don’t want to talk about.  A tear wells in his eye.  Divorce.  Kids.  Lost jobs.  Bankruptcy.  Grace.  Forgiveness.  Redemption.  Hope.  I was wrong.  He was carrying a lot.  My backpack had some books and magazines but he is lugging a broken
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Today you get a break. I am pleased and proud to turn these humble ramblings over to a guest rambler. And a pretty special one at that. Eldest son Matt came home a couple of weeks ago to join a weekend home edition of “Makeover for Mom”. The boys decided to show their love for their wonderful Mom by updating a tired bathroom, cleaning out a cluttered garage, and stripping some outdated wallpaper. They worked almost around the clock and the results were wonderful for both the house and the heart of a Mom who felt very loved. On his way home to Nashville Matt put these thoughts together. I proudly turn my space over to my Son. Enjoy. We carry a lot.  In our hands, hearts, souls, minds…we always have baggage.  While walking through the airport recently, bored and exhausted, I started trying to figure people out.  Briefcase, loafers, Blackberry…small business owner.  Backpack, flip flops, Nalgen bottle…college student. Shorts, laughing, holding hands…honeymoon.  This game is easy! I
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