As Traci and I leave North Carolina and move to Kentucky, we both agree (my father does too), New Life Fellowship of Chapel Hill was our “Rockville” in North Carolina. We have friends here that mean the world to us, friends that will forever be family.

The memories I have are many, but here are 11 of my favorites…

1. Rafting down the New River, and nearly getting tossed out on the very first Class 1 rapid.
2. Moving into Traci’s home, and 10 of my “family” show up to help us move in.
3. Playing bass in the praise band every week, and performing with Turning Point (Rainey, Dave, Pam, Laura, Doug, Lettie, and Keith, you guys can never be replaced).
4. The race to the alter (Traci and I beat Rainey and Laura by days, so they had to copy us on everything).
5. Sabbath afternoon biking trips down Crabtree Creek, or through Olmstead Park.
6. Cramming 30 people into our little, tiny house for Potluck or Game Night.
7. Dinner out or poker with the guys.
8. Keith, Joe, Jayce, Henry, Jason, and I discover, it is possible to score a 0 in Call of Duty 4.
9. Hitting my best tee shot on the 9th hole, off the light pole, and bouncing back down the cart path as Dave, Brian, Brad, and I all roll on the ground laughing.
10. Friday nights with Doc, Kathy, and Terry just bringing in the Sabbath.
11. Matt, Cindy, and Morgan... guys there are no other words needed.

I’ve now been lucky to have my own Rockville, and hopefully this won’t be our last. But I hope that someday, my children will be able to find their Rockvilles, because they are truly special.

It’s been a little while since we’ve had Susie update. She’s pulling herself up wherever she can. And she loves to use that to generate laughs. Here, we get to watch as she stands up and crouches at the coffee table, playing a version of Peek-a-Boo with Traci.

I’ve also taught her a new game. It started at the softball field with me throwing a ball (read handing it to her) very dramatically and then taking it back as she held her hand out. It has now progressed into a passing back and forth game. She’s gotten so good at it that if she misses, she’ll pick it up and try again. Just before starting this game, she picked up her toy, crawled over to me toy in hand, and dropped it in, essentially letting me know she wanted to play. She’s just so darn cute.

As the days get warmer and longer, I'm reminded of a joke I once heard on the radio.  It's been out a while, but still worth the read. 

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GOD: St. Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in North Carolina? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar FROM the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles.

ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers weeds and went to great lengths to kill them and REPLACE them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it, sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, sir -- just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You'd better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them INTO great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about....

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole plot FROM St. Francis.

So today started off like normal. I’m late for work, and running around to get everything together. Coffee… check. Laptops… check. IPod… chest pocket, check.  Alright, let’s kiss the family goodbye. As I lean over to pick Susie up off the floor to give her a kiss… thump. That’s right, the iPod slips out of my pocket and lands squarely on the top of her head. It take a minute to sink in, but then the tears begin. The look of shock, and the cries of pain just break your heart as a father. She looks at me like “What did you let happen to me?”  I feel horrible. I try holding her and whispering sweet comforting words in her ear, and it appears to be working. Then I see it… the giggle stick. 

Susie plays happily with the giggle stick

For those who don’t know what this is, it’s like one of those rain sticks, or cow noise makers, except the sound is a little different. It’s a wonderful toy, and one of Susie’s favorites. Every time it goes, she smiles, and this time is no exception.  I grab the giggle stick, shake it a few times, and the smiles return instantly. The tears haven’t even reached the full expanse of her cheeks, and she’s smiling again. I wipe the tears, hand her to Traci, and she’s smiling.

If only we adults could forget something or someone that hurt us that quickly. How often do you find yourself still angry or bitter hours, days, weeks, months, or even years later by something a good friend did or said.  I thought when I became a father that I would be doing the teaching, not the other way around. Obviously I’ve got a lot to learn still.

Here's hoping your Father's Day is filled with as many smiles.

So this morning when I got up at 5:30 to go to the gym, I noticed an interesting smell, and it only got stronger when I went outside. Smoke, definitely smoke. Now before anyone panics or begins to worry, it wasn't our house. In fact, it wasn't even our county. It's from a wildfire almost 200 miles away. Apparently the wind shifted last night, and the smoke from those wild fires out on the eastern shore is blowing back across North Carolina.

Now it's not causing any major problems for us, but it is a bit annoying, and you do feel like caughing every once in a while. But it could be worse right?