TAMIE TUESDAY: The Christian Version of ‘Pimp My Ride’ – or – Elders as Servants
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- Not me stirring this pot, either.
Guest blog by Tamie
First and foremost, the gatekeeper is gone. He is 6,000 miles away and has no Internet access. Muhahahahaha.
No really, I’ll behave. Even though a good friend scolded me last week about such activities as stirring pots. As if! I try not to cook in the summer if I can help it. Definitely NO pot-stirring going on here.
So … that said … let’s talk about church elders, shall we? Speaking of gatekeepers and all that. And also speaking of completely independent links!
I mentioned offhandedly on my Facebook page last week that we should debate whether church elders do/should get what seems like lifetime appointments to that particular role in church leadership – not unlike U.S. Supreme Court justices do in arguably the most powerful positions on a national level.
So as not to disappoint, let me say that on one hand, I think some shepherds out in church land seem to view the role as theirs ‘til death do they (de)part. They’re usually (by nature of the job description) older than most. And generational differences can make some of them view their mission as that of keeping us all from sliding down the proverbial slippery slope. The one that goes uphill both ways, in the snow, for at least five miles. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. And, by golly, they’re not stepping down, aside, or any other direction other than having both feet firmly planted because what horrors might happen then?
But I also know some completely fantastic, awesome men who serve in that capacity. And I say capacity because it’s a shiny word and sort of sums up how well I understand the role because I really have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for other grown people’s souls, much less all the physical, financial, emotional and spiritual demands.
The best, most approachable elders – at least in my humble opinion – are first and foremost servants. To me, that word is kind of the unspoken qualification. Of course anyone who sacrifices so much time and energy is a servant, right? But I know shepherds who literally serve their sheep in very real and meaningful ways, and it is humbling to both see and be the recipient of that kind of love.
To wit, I shall share a story (one that really happened, to be clear) of such an example of service that recently happened. (To me, again, the clarity thing. No preacher stories on this blog!)
We were at the church building, in the auditorium, during worship one recent Sunday when we had to make a hasty exit due to the fact that I was about to pass out. Obviously, I was only thinking about getting out of there before I hit the ground and disrupted a sermon, so I forgot my Bible on the pew.
A certain elder (and dear friend of mine who went to school with my parents long ago) picked up my Bible after worship and took it with him. Somehow he noticed that it was in slight disrepair. And by slight, I mean the navy blue cover had taken on a tent-like appearance because it was pulling away from the rest of the Bible. And by him somehow noticing, it might have been that half of it fell off in his hands, I cannot be sure.
I’d like to say that its condition was a result of extreme overuse, but it’s more because we travel so much and my Bible doesn’t always get a first class ticket. (For instance, one year in Mexico, it got a red Kool-Aid shower. I secretly love that stain because it reminds me of our times working there. And I may add a photo later to show you once I figure out how NOT to get four of them on here.)
I digress. My Bible. Looking sad. Picked up by elder, who later called my husband to check on me and to let him know he had it.
Between that day and the time it took for me to reclaim my Bible, this awesome and yet anonymous elder had repaired it for me, sort of the Christian version of “Pimp My Ride” or “Trick My Truck” or some other catchy-sounding show I don’t actually watch, yet know about. Is that not amazing? With all his responsibilities, he took time to fix my Bible. Wow.
I know the names of so many others who I could share similar stories about. I have seen elders wait on tables at potluck dinners. I’ve seen them drive teen-agers hundreds and hundreds of miles to do mission work. I’ve seen them hold hands and pray with family members outside operating rooms.
As a group, they are an easy target in church settings. And, like all of us, they can always do better. But I have a warm place in my heart for the true servant-leaders that I have known throughout the years. They are the ones who show me on every level what it means to step up and yet stay back to serve.
Americans in Amsterdam — and Antwerp — and on the way to Africa
(Erik and me with the Amsterdam Church of Christ. Photo by Paul Brazle)
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(blogging live from Paul and Carol Brazle’s guest bedroom in Antwerp, Belgium)
Erik Tryggestad and I spent the weekend in Belgium and Holland, where it’s after midnight Monday. We’re on a rare reporting trip together, flying this afternoon to Ghana. As you probably know if you’re reading my blog, Erik is the international writer for The Christian Chronicle and has traveled all over the world.
I am the national writer and have reported from about 40 states in my four years with the Chronicle. But I mainly stay on American soil, except for a few trips to Canada and Mexico. This is my first time in Europe, and it will be my first time in Africa. So, I am both excited and apprehensive.
It has been interesting and educational to see Erik in action. He is certainly “in his element” interviewing fellow Christians of different backgrounds and even languages, and he takes a million pictures.
And this morning, he even preached at the invitation of the minister of the Amsterdam Church of Christ, a congregation of more than 100 Ghanaian immigrants to The Netherlands. He had a sermon ready in his Bible just in case it was needed because he has found himself in that situation before.
Fortunately, I have NEVER found myself in that situation or I would be forced to find a new profession. 
But Erik did a wonderful job.
— Bobby
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(Erik preaches at the Amsterdam church, while a member translates the message into twi, a Ghanaian language)
(Me interviewing Samuel Acheampong, a Ghanaian who helped start the Amsterdam church 15 years ago)
(Missionary Paul Brazle and me in Ghent, Belgium, after a church service tonight at Luk Brazle’s house)
(Move along — not much to see in Ghent)
(Missionary Luk Brazle at Central station in Antwerp, Belgium, with a teen mission team from Ohio)
(No, that’s not the Home Depot garden center — it’s me and Erik eating lunch in Antwerp)
(Me in Antwerp)
(Antwerp without the bald chubby guy to mess up the scenery)
(The bald chubby guy at Burger King at the Amsterdam airport)
(Ahhhhhh, jet lag — the train ride from Amsterdam to Antwerp)
The modern worship experience: Text, tweet and please log on to 2 Thessalonians?
The Abilene Reporter-News had an interesting story last week about worshipers bringing their iPhones and Blackberrys to church:
Southern Hills Church of Christ minister Phil Ware can gaze out into the aisles and see more than a few members of his church bathed in a familiar, digital radiance.
The gleam comes from smart phones in their hands, but church-goers aren’t tuning out Ware or whoever is preaching.
“When it gets a little darker, you can look around and see these little glows where people are using their mobile devices to look up Bible passages,” he said.
As the story explains, members aren’t using the phones to send text messages to friends during the sermon. Instead, they’re taking notes and accessing online versions of the Bible. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.
Seriously, I am one who finds the Bible on my iPhone so convenient. Outside of church, I do most of my Bible reading that way because my iPhone fits so conveniently in my hand, and the ancient words seem to jump to life in a hip new technology. But on Sunday, I take my regular Bible to church and — when the preacher refers to it — act like finding Habakkuk amid a few thousand razor-thin pages is no problem for me.
But I can imagine a point in the future — perhaps the not-so-distant future — where online Bible reading becomes more widely understood. Maybe then I could use my iPhone at church without offending too many of my brothers and sisters.
Then again, I have to ask, would the temptation to check my e-mail or change my Facebook status be too great if the sermon drifted off into a, shall we say, less than compelling mode?
Is there something more sacred about God’s Word on a simple sheet of paper than on a computer screen? Oklahoma Christian University professor and Christian Chronicle editor emeritus Bailey McBride shared with Tamie recently that he has 30-plus Bibles in his office, ones he has collected over the years, and he shares them with students who read their Bibles exclusively online. He wants students to have the experience, too, of holding the Word in their hands.
At what point does the technology become too much?
(Veering off point for a moment, you’ll recall that in our list a few years ago of ways to tell you might be a Church of Christ member, this was one of them: “If you think ‘progressive’ refers to those in the church who want a sound system and PowerPoint.” Sorry, the question about technology reminded me of that.)
Back on point: I have written in my Christian Chronicle column and on this blog about some of the ministry and faith benefits of online social networking.
However, I am not certain I want Don Vinzant, Kent Risley or Randy Roper (the ministers at my home congregation) taking questions from the pews via Twitter, as some pastors across the nation are doing.
Time magazine reports:
In Seattle, Mars Hill churchgoers regularly tweet throughout the service. In New York City, Trinity Church marked Good Friday by tweeting the Passion play, detailing the stages of Jesus’ crucifixion in short bursts. At Next Level Church, outside Charlotte, N.C., it’s not only O.K. to fuse social-networking technology with prayer; it’s desirable.
On Easter Sunday, pastor Todd Hahn prefaced his sermon by saying, “I hope many of you are tweeting this morning about your experience with God.”
In a freelance article for Religion News Service, my Facebook friend Amy Green also explores The Gospel According to Twitter:
Tweeting during church? Isn’t it rude?
David Loveless doesn’t think so. Loveless is lead pastor of Discovery Church , a nondenominational congregation that draws about 4,000 on Sundays to three locations in Orlando.
The congregation always has thrived on the cutting edge, becoming among the first to embrace contemporary music and remove its steeple from its building.
Now the congregation is tweeting — using 21st-century technology to discuss the gospel in 140-character cell-phone text updates sent via Twitter.
I could go on, but I’d rather hear from you.
Do you use your smart phone during church? If so, how? If not, are you irritated by people who do?
Do you have any desire to tweet questions or observations to the preacher during the sermon? If you are the preacher, do you see any potential for immediate feedback via text-messages or tweets while you’re at the pulpit?
— Bobby
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If you haven’t seen this video with Mrs. Bobbie explaining the Sunset Church of Christ Web site, you MUST check it out!
TAMIE TUESDAY: Red, white and boo-hoo — She gets nervous this time of year
Editor’s note: Opinions expressed in guest columns do not necessarily (which is putting it mildly) represent the views of or constitute endorsement by the founder and president of bobbyrossjr.com. But this is America, where anyone (including the writer below) is free to express her questionable opinions. Above video courtesy of the blog owner.
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Guest blog by Tamie
I get a little nervous this time of year.
Inevitably, there’s a worship service somewhere around the 4th of July – because it is a number on a calendar, after all, and Sunday comes around once every seven days.
And that means I’m probably going to hear, led in worship, the song. Or the other song. Or (oh please no) that song.
Before I go too far down this particular road, let me first say that I love the land of my birth and current residence. I try hard to appreciate the lifestyle that the U.S. affords my family – the choices and freedoms we have. I am humbled by those who serve in our armed forces, and their myriad sacrifices to protect our country’s citizens from harm. And I know there are allegories in Scripture pertaining to the armor of Christ and our war against Satan, etc.
However …
There is a tendency, especially around America’s Independence Day, to militarize and/or patriot-ize our worship. The song choices, about war and battle and victory, make me bristle. The public prayers sometimes choke me up, and not always in a good way. It feels wrong to me.
I noticed it maybe for the first time after Sept. 11, 2001. Some church auditoriums that never before had an American flag on their stages suddenly did. Our nationalism seeped into our churches in a physical form and it colored our praise and adoration to God in shades of red, white and blue.
Patriotism and American flags and “God Bless the USA” have their places – and there are many. But corporate worship isn’t one of them. Jesus wasn’t an American. He does love Americans and he died for Americans, but the same is true for Germans and Iranians and Swedes and Afghanis and South Koreans and people of every tribe and tongue. And nationality.
In our daily lives, it’s a positive thing to have a strong allegiance to country. As Christian patriots, though, we know that the cross of Jesus stands high above the any nation’s flag – including our own.
If we don’t possess this mindset, how else can we challenge our earthly authorities to remember that they serve at the pleasure of a God who is just and merciful and requires the same of them?
If we truly want to serve God and be loyal to our country, isn’t that the best way?
After a busy few weeks, he was ‘tarred’ (but not feathered!)
I wrote on my Facebook page the other night that I was “tarred” — as in past tense of “tire.” And I wasn’t kidding.
The last few weeks have been incredibly busy.
A week after we finished the June issue of The Christian Chronicle, I flew to Canada on a five-day reporting trip to Saskatchewan and Alberta.
When I got back to Oklahoma, I worked a couple of days and then left town again, this time bound for the extended Ross family’s annual summer vacation to a Tennessee lake.
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With Papa in Tennessee
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By the time I returned from vacation, we were about a week out from our press deadline for the July issue of the Chronicle — and I had about three weeks’ worth of work left to do.
I am exaggerating. Slightly.
Fortunately, like many of my journalist friends, I thrive under deadline pressure and even find it thrilling.
But by Thursday, I had worked 11 straight days and needed a break. First, though, I had a freelance story to finish for Christianity Today. Too beat to write it Thursday night, I set my alarm for early Friday and got it done by CT’s 9 a.m. deadline.
And then I was off — as in off from work!
The Chronicle office closes the Friday after we go to press, mainly to allow the staff to recover from putting one issue to bed before getting serious about starting the next one.
I enjoyed a nice, two-hour nap Friday afternoon and woke up ready to conquer the world — and even blog for the first time in a couple of weeks. After all, I couldn’t let Tamie Tuesday and Trygg Thursday have all the fun!
— Bobby
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When I stayed with Stan Helton in Saskatchewan, he introduced me to Corner Gas. It’s a cool show, and I love the opening scene!
TRYGG THURSDAY: Churches of Christ go on vacation, plus a VBS video worth watching
Guest post by Erik Tryggestad
(Even if you don’t read this whole thing, scroll to the end and watch the video. You’ll be glad you did!)
When you take a vacation, do you also take a vacation from church?
Orange Beach, Ala. (photo by Erik Tryggestad)
This topic came up in my own family recently as we planned a week-long vacation in Orange Beach, Ala., just west of the Florida panhandle. We discussed the possibility of bringing grape juice and communion bread and just having church in our condo. That way we wouldn’t feel compelled to pack dress clothes and we wouldn’t have to get up early on Sunday morning and take our kids to a church with which they’re unfamiliar.
I wasn’t too keen on this idea, partly for selfish reasons. I have a hard time leaving work behind, and whenever I’m out of town I like to visit Churches of Christ for worship and make connections for future stories.
Plus, I wrote a story about churches in vacation destinations back in 2005 (yes, using research that I did during a previous vacation) and one quote from that story was repeating itself in my brain. It came from Dorman Diller Jr., minister for the Pagosa Springs, Colo., Church of Christ:
While out-of-town visitors can encourage local members, they also can discourage, especially if they treat the church merely as a place to take communion while on vacation, Diller said. Some church groups opt not to visit the local church and have short devotionals to give them more time on the ski slopes.
‘While our local work goes on after they leave, we enjoy joining hands with our visitors in fellowship,’ Diller said. ‘It can be a brief glimpse of heaven.’
The Gulf Shores, Ala., Church of Christ (photo by Erik Tryggestad)
So, after we arrived in Alabama, we headed out the next morning for worship at the Gulf Shores Church of Christ, about 12 miles from Orange Beach. I thought we made the right decision, and I was looking forward to meeting some of the local members.
That didn’t happen. We got lost on the way there and arrived late for service. And, since it was Memorial Day weekend, the church of about 150 swelled to about 515. We sat cramped into the pews. When the service ended, it was hard to find anyone who wasn’t a visitor. (My sister and brother-in-law were with us, and they ran into some people who go to their church in Nashville.)
More than 500 people squeezed into the Gulf Shores, Ala., Church of Christ on Memorial Day weekend. (photo by Erik Tryggestad)
To be honest, it felt like a clock-punching expedition. I was using the church “merely as a place to take communion while on vacation.”
I decided to go back on Wednesday night. Not everyone could make it, so it was just me and my dad. (That, in and of itself, was really cool, by the way. It’s rare that the two of us get to do anything together.) Obviously, the crowd was much smaller on Wednesday night.
After hearing a lesson on Romans (walk into any church, and there’s a 60 percent chance they’re in the middle of a class on Romans) I went up and talked to some of the members. I met some die-hard fans of The Christian Chronicle and got some interesting news leads about work that they support in Cuba. It was a very faith-affirming experience — one of the highlights of the trip, actually (aside from seeing my daughter dip her toes in the ocean for the first time).
So, I’ve got mixed reviews on the whole “church on vacation” issue. Frankly, I think it might have meant more to us to do church in the condo, enjoying our time together as a family. But I’m glad I went back to the Gulf Shores church on Wednesday night.
Have any of you had similar experiences?
And speaking of vacation … or should I say Vacation Bible School?
Here’s a video produced by my home congregation, the Memorial Road Church of Christ, to go along with this year’s VBS theme — Joshua.
All I can say after watching this is, “Children of Israel keepin’ it real. In the wilderness for the 4-0, y’all. Spies 4 life!”
TAMIE TUESDAY: Have I become THAT person!?
Read the blog post or not, but you MUST watch the video!
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Guest post by Tamie
The last few weeks — months, really — I have become that person.
Bless your heart, you’d tell me no, no I haven’t. You’re happy to pray for me, you say. It’s no problem at all for you to (insert name of seemingly ordinary task here) because I can’t and don’t know when I will be able to again. Why, you don’t mind! And how did my last doctor’s appointment go, by the way?
That person, for clarification, is the one whose life has become a veritable soap opera. Their troubles seemingly take on a life of their own and there are new developments all the time that eclipse the normal flow of living until all you can focus on is the train wreck and you can’t look away because OH MY GOODNESS.
See, drama! I can spin it, can’t I?
I’ve always thought that churches, God help us, seem to really bring out that person. It’s the atmosphere of love and support, no doubt. But sometimes (remember, I’m no expert, just me talking here) the warm climate turns into an enabling environment for people with troubles to allow them to eclipse all else. They tend to seek and find attention through their issues, and instead of resolving or coping and moving forward to focus on others, they revel in the attention they receive for having said issues.
God obviously knew how I felt about that person, and he has let me walk a few thousand miles in their (specially fitted, orthopedic) shoes the last few months. It has been a very humbling experience. I’m sure it will continue to be, too, as he refines me with some very hot fire that has singed my eyebrows more than once!
What have I learned so far?
1. Independence is nice, but it also can be selfish. A good friend has gently reminded me throughout my illness that when I keep someone from serving me, I’m preventing them from doing God’s work. Ouch. I’ve done it, lots.
2. Confession is good for the soul and so is discretion sometimes. I don’t have to share everything with everyone. Yes, the whole CAT scan story is its own stand-up routine, but maybe I should let the other person tell their own funny story, no?
3. Shared experiences aren’t just conversation starters. I think God gives us the gift of relating to people on different levels to allow us to live life together in a better way. I feel closer to people that I had previously distanced myself from because I’ve been allowed to suffer a bit lately (again, on my own teensy scale).
4. Your health really does define you to a lot of people — yourself included. I’ve had little quirky things happen here and there, but I haven’t ever been “not well” for so long. As I’ve logged these frequent-flier miles in the doctors’ offices, I’ve thought about how there are people all around me who look really sad and depressed. Are they having bad days or bad years? How can I keep the physical from affecting the spiritual, even as Paul struggled with the thorn in his own flesh.
I’m 39 and I figure I’m just starting on this whole journey. My body is (hopefully in the DISTANT future) going to deteriorate. I look at beautiful examples of strength and determination among people I know who are truly struggling with long-term health and aging issues and want to be as graceful and focused as they are.
TAMIE TUESDAY: Do you greet visitors at church, or just your friends?
Guest post by Tamie
I am one of more than 1,000 folks who attend/belong/find themselves at my church. The latest Churches of Christ in the United States directory says there are 1,033 of us at the Edmond Church of Christ, in fact. That’s a whole lot of crackers and communion cups!
It’s a big building. And it’s also a whole lot of doors (17 points of entry from the parking lots, according to my good friend John Trotter, an elder and the office administrator at Edmond).
This could easily turn into one of those story problems that tormented me in fourth-grade math: “If one person in a crowd of 1,033 walked into a building through one of 17 doors … what are the chances they might meet a visitor? Seek out a member they don’t know and talk to them? Notice someone who’s hurting? Make a mental list of those they DO know and DON’T see so they can check in?
For me, the odds are lower still. We usually arrive with seconds to spare, then park near one of the doors closest to our Bible class. We parcel out everyone’s Bibles, make sure no one has their clothes inside out or buttoned like Michelle Obama’s J Crew sweater, and we’re off to our respective places.
After class, we make sure everyone is either with us, sitting with the youth group or given to a friend and their family with instructions to please sing and try to listen. The Rosses usually occupy the same section in the balcony, if not the same pew, positioned near those who usually sit there, too.
After worship, conventional wisdom says we’d greet those around us (the aforementioned, mostly familiar folks) and maybe even walk out with them. To the car, parked near our classroom, where those in our class probably had parked. Thereby increasing the chances that we already knew them, too.
It’s easy to be invisible in a crowd. But it’s also comfortable to be part of a large group and do nothing to actively draw others into your circle.
I’m really not a math person. And to be honest, I’m not much of a greeter. I’m more of a greet-me. I’m a talker and a smiler, but not really the type that puts themselves out there and strikes up a conversation with someone they don’t know.
But excusing myself from something because it isn’t my nature doesn’t seem very mature. Plus, I like a challenge. So last Sunday, I challenged myself privately – then publicly on Facebook – by announcing I would meet five people on Sunday.
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Maybe meeting five people at a church our size wouldn’t be a challenge to anyone else, but it forced me into a different mindset even before I entered the building (via the same parking place and same door – baby steps, you know). I was looking for people I didn’t know. I had a mission! And some accountability, thanks to my friend Rachel Burkett, who asked me about it later.
I did meet my five people. I shook hands and chatted with a single guy named Chase who was carrying a Starbucks cup. An easy conversation starter for me, ahem.
I introduced myself to another couple in the stairwell. They were doing the small kid thing, patiently helping their little boys up the stairs. That was us a few years ago.
That evening after worship, I talked to another young couple with whom I had shared pew space (another confession: I don’t always know my pew-mates and don’t always meet them, either). Their baby, Ezekiel, had flirted with me during the song service and I was sad when he made his pre-sermon exit. His mom, wearing shorts (I love that people come comfortable on Sunday nights, by the way) told me he’d be 9 months this week. I told her she was doing a great job with him.
I got in plenty of time with people I did know and made a few new face-name matches in the process. Not a bad start. Maybe I’ll make a few locker room signs for the van, you know, “Meet One for the Gipper.” “Greeters Never Quit.” Feel free to leave your suggestions for me, too.
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In loving memory of Aunt Joan (1946-2009)
Mom, Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan at Thanksgiving 2005 (photo by Bobby Ross Jr.)
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We said goodbye to my precious Aunt Joan this week.
“She’s too young too die,” my mother, Judy Ross, said through tears after learning of her sister’s death at age 63.
There is family, and then there is family.
Aunt Joan was family and had been my entire life.
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Dad, Mom, Aunt Joan, Uncle Jerry, Uncle Ted, Aunt Jo Ann
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Joan Carol Hill had battled cancer and other health problems in recent years. After the death of her second husband, Jerry Hill, a few months ago, she had been moved into a nursing home. Still, her death came as a shock.
Born 17 months before my mom, Aunt Joan was the oldest of my Grandma and Grandpa Nanney’s three children. My Uncle Ted, five years younger than Aunt Joan, is the baby of the family.
When I think of Aunt Joan, I can’t help but smile. She was opinionated, bossy, spunky and smart — all traits that endeared her to me. She loved to spar good-naturedly with her nephew Bobby. And vice versa.
Aunt Joan also enjoyed writing and always told me that I got my writing talent from her. I took that as a compliment.
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Grandma and Grandpa Nanney’s grave marker in Portageville, Mo.
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When I was growing up, Grandma and Grandpa Nanney lived in a trailer beside Aunt Joan’s rural home on an Interstate 55 frontage road.
My brother Scott, sister Christy and I spent countless childhood hours there in the Missouri Bootheel, playing “colored eggs” and swimming with our cousins Angie and Kim — Aunt Joan’s daughters. We dodged tornadoes at Aunt Joan’s house in the spring and celebrated Christmases there in the winter.
Even before Aunt Joan’s death, we were planning to visit southeastern Missouri during our family vacation this week.
We intended to spend time with Kim, Angie, Angie’s daughter Kristy and Kristy’s newborn Ella Marie — Aunt Joan’s first great-grandbaby and the joy of her final weeks.
Aunt Joan, adjusting to the nursing home in Peoria, Ill., where Angie lives, was expected to be in too poor health to make the trip. But she showed us — she did make the trip back to Hayti! Only not as we’d expected!
Aunt Joan was one of a kind, and we will miss her.
May she rest in peace.
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Ella Marie looks a lot like her great-grandmother Joan at that age
My cousin Kim laughs at something my brother Scott said
My cousin Angie with her husband Chuck
With Christy, Kim, Angie and Scott after Aunt Joan’s funeral
FRENCH-FRY FRIDAY: Five random tidbits while I put the ‘Gone Fishing’ sign on this blog
French-Fry Fridays are a chance to lighten the mood and enjoy ourselves a bit after a week of serious, sometimes deep discussions.
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This and that while I pack my T-shirts, swim trunks and sunscreen and prepare to load up Betty for the family vacation:
1. One-third of the way into the baseball season, my beloved Texas Rangers are in first place! May the ghost of Rusty Greer carry us to our first playoff appearance in 10 years.
2. I bought “Mambo No. 5” on iTunes last week and have been jamming ever since with my stuffed primate son Bobby the Monkey. B-Monk really knows how to “take one step left and one step right.” (I wanted to include the YouTube video, but then I discovered that it’s not G-rated.)
3. ET (the internationally renowned Christian journalist, not the extra-terrestrial from the 1982 movie) and I are headed to Amsterdam and Accra, Ghana, on a reporting trip next month. Just figured out that President Obama will be making his first visit as president to Africa — specifically Accra — while we’re there. If Barry wants to get together with us, I’m sure we’ll try to fit him into our busy schedule.
4. I was a band geek back in high school. I played the tuba for four years. Now you know. (Of course, I spilled the beans in my Inside Story column this month in The Christian Chronicle, so maybe you already knew.)
5. My favorite week of the year is the one I spend on the lake in Tennessee with the extended Ross family: Papa, Grandma, Mom, Dad, brother, sister, sister-in-law, sons, daughter, nephews and niece. Swimming, fishing (by folks other than me who like sticking worms on hooks and standing in the hot sun), burgers, barbecue, relaxing, reading by the pool, frying the fish that other people catch. And then we typically head to the Bootheel in southeastern Missouri to see relatives on my mother’s side of the family. Can’t wait to see cousins Kim, Angie, Kristy and baby Ella Marie!
We leave Saturday on this annual adventure, so forgive me for hanging the “Gone Fishing” sign (figuratively speaking, of course) on this blog for just a bit.
— Bobby
