Olympics 2022

       Watching the Olympics has been our family tradition for forty years. And now, because we watch on YouTube TV, I can watch almost any Olympic sport at any time of the day. It’s a great time to be alive.

       Every two years it’s the same story. We stay up late and watch sports we don’t understand, we take sides when speed skaters are feuding like junior high boys even when we don’t really care about which guy is right, we discuss short-track strategy as if we understand it, we comment on the figure skating costumes and whether they are manly enough, we wish we were young and wild and crazy like snowboarders, we hope we look as good together as ice dancers, and occasionally, we even watch hockey (if curling isn’t on). We are fans of every Olympic sport for at least two weeks.

       I enjoy the opening ceremony; my favorite is the parade of athletes when they enter the stadium. The team members from Kazakhstan don’t look like each other, they look like individuals, but they look significantly different than the athletes from Norway. (Although the mandatory masks didn’t help with this observation.) I like to know, in our modern connected world, we’re still individuals, and we resemble other members of our tribes.

       I also like analyzing all the team uniforms for the opening. It’s obviously a struggle to represent individual cultures and yet remain practical (except for American Samoa – they don’t care about practical). However, some of the team uniforms look like they were designed by committees who never had to wear them.

       So far, I’ve never cheered for an Olympic team that my next-door neighbor hated. I can’t say that about college football. And knowing the games will last only a couple of weeks (as opposed to the NBA playoffs, for example) helps me sacrifice the time and energy to watch.

       All sports have an aspect of danger to them – some much more than others. The Winter Olympics seem to have more opportunities for high-speed crashes than the Summer Olympics. The Ski Halfpipe, for example, saw 28% of athletes injured in the 2018 games. Snowboard Cross had 26%.

       I’m inspired by the skill and talent of the athletes. Their stories are inspirational and show their hard work and determination through obstacles. This is the power of stories: When we think we cannot go on, when it is just too hard and no one really understands, we hear these stories, and we gain strength. These stories inspire us and give us hope.

       We don’t have many ways left in our culture to be collectively inspired. After more than a year of lockdown, tragedy, and uncertainty, watching athletes achieve their dreams despite all the challenges feels like one.

       Regardless of whether it’s winter or summer, I love it when it’s that time again and the Olympics take over our television. I can’t wait for the Paris Olympics in 2024.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

 Thank you for reading! This is a reader-supported publication and it only works with your help. Please share with your friends or buy my books. You can find more of my writing, and learn about my books, or subscribe to this free blog, at http://berrysimpson.com.

Certainty

       We traveled to Mansfield last weekend for our granddaughter’s baptism at Rush Creek Church – Mansfield West. It was a joyous affair. I don’t know how often this church has baptisms; the setup was not a permanent installation, but it was quick and celebratory. The morning we were there they baptized ten, ranging from our 8-year-old granddaughter up to two high school juniors.

       After looking around at the people sitting in the front five or six rows of the worship center, I mentioned to Cyndi that either the demographics of this church skewed much older than I’d expected, or we were all grandparents who were here for the baptisms.

       When we first arrived at the church we noticed small pieces of paper on every chair. Each paper had two peel-off dots each about ¾” diameter - the type used to mark prices at a garage sale. The campus pastor, Scott Oldenburgh, asked us to write the name of someone on each dot – someone who needed more of Jesus in their life – and then peel off the dots and stick them to the underside of our chairs. He said they do this every few months and if we looked under the chairs we’d see several dots and names. He said, “Every chair has a name, and every name has a story, and every story matters to God.”

       The baptisms took place in a long, narrow metal trough positioned front and center on the stage. Each person climbed in and sat on the bottom of the trough. The youngsters were baptized by Children’s Minister Misty Nailon after answering a question or two, then climbed out and huddled dripping under their towel while the rest of the group were baptized. It was holy and joyful and practical all at the same time. It reminded me of a quote I captured from Dennis Okholm’s book Monk Habits for Everyday People: Benedictine Spirituality for Protestants. He wrote, “Benedictine spirituality is not glamorous. It is extraordinarily ordinary.” That feels right to me.

       Our granddaughter was brave to be the first in line, which meant she stood longest in her wet clothes. I wasn’t surprised. I’m used to bold courage and stubborn determinations from her.

       I often tell people I live among a multi-generational tribe of strong women. From Landy and her sister Madden, to their mother and my daughter, Katherine, to my wife Cyndi, to her mother Deanna, to Cyndi’s grandmother Ruby, and then to her great-grandmother Stella (who owned Smith’s Grocery and served as U.S. Postmaster for Tolar, NM).

       This powerful lineage makes me happy. I’m stronger and braver because I live alongside these women.

       On Saturday we all had lunch together: Katie and her girls, Cyndi and me, Byron and Angela (another strong woman, by the way). After our tasty hamburgers we visited the Dallas Makerspace where Byron and Angela have a membership. It’s a huge 36,000 square-foot warehouse of tools and equipment and ideas. As we walked through, we saw members making ceramics, woodworking, repairing auto parts, programing electronics, using 3-D printers, and lots more. The entire space felt to me like an invitation to learn new skills and turn ideas into stories.

       Angela told us a sad story about a man who, just a few days before, dropped his beautifully completed laser-etched cutting board and watched it shatter on the floor. People in the room, all working on their own projects, held their breath as he picked up the pieces. It was heartbreaking for everyone.

       There is no certainty in life no matter how much we try for it. Our efforts can be shattered no matter how hard we work or how much our ourselves we invest. Ozan Varol wrote, “Our yearning for certainty leads us to pursue seemingly safe solutions. Were certainty ends, progress begins.” (Think Like A Rocket Scientist)

       Pursuing safe solutions may feel logical, but it may cause us to miss the beauty of handmade cutting boards.

        The baptism of a beautiful 8-year-old girl in not an act of certainty. It doesn’t guarantee she’ll always make great choices or never be distracted by our crazy world. But it a picture of hope, and hope always trumps certainty.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Thank you for reading! This is a reader-supported publication and it only works with your help. Please share with your friends or buy my books. You can find more of my writing, and learn about my books, or subscribe to this free blog, at http://berrysimpson.com.

I Like to Know

      In mid-December we made two trips on Southwest Airlines flying non-rev, which means standby, which means maybe they have room for you on the airplane or maybe they don’t. Both trips went well; we made all our flights and got home when we needed to.

      Why does it matter? Because I’m much more comfortable flying with a purchased ticket, even though it costs money. Flying non-rev costs, too; you pay for it with uncertainty. In general, I’m happier spending money than sacrificing certainty.

      The first trip was to Nashville for a concert (Amy Grant and Vince Gill). We arrived with plenty of time to enjoy a late lunch of Nashville Hot Chicken at Hattie B’s.

      And on the way home, even the full flights had seats for us. I was worried about getting home Wednesday night since I was teaching Iron Men at 6:30 am Thursday morning and Cyndi was teaching yoga at 5:45 am. We knew it would be impossible to recruit substitute teachers at such short notice. But we made it home just fine.

      The second trip was to Dallas, leaving at 6:00 am from Midland, to see our oldest granddaughter, Madden in her first gymnastics meet of the season and her first meet after moving up to the next competitive level. The early flight was not crowded, and we arrived with enough time for a leisurely breakfast at La Madeleine’s in Grapevine. Afterwards, our 4:00 pm which had been full, opened, and we got “C” boarding passes. We were home and in our house by 6:00 pm.

      I told Cyndi I can see a day in my future when I’ll be more relaxed in the standby world.

      Is it possible to begin any new year without a huge cloud of uncertainty? Has anyone ever reached the last week of December and said, “That was a perfect year. Everything worked out how I wanted it to, and it all makes sense. I can’t wait for another year like the one I just had.”

      No one says that. The end of each year feels like the worst year ever even though it’s been happening over and over since the beginning. Even back in the days we now refer to normal, as in pre-Covid, we weren’t as satisfied as we remember. It was rough, then, too. Life is always confusing and mysterious and unpredictable on the fly.

      The thing is, I should be better at living with uncertainty as much as I write about it. I should have solved much of my discomfort by now. In fact, I’m not sure why I expect anything else from life.

      But I do. I long for order and structure. I want systems that work and can be depended on. I create endless checklists and calendars and plans-of-action to organize my life, and I put them on spreadsheets (who doesn’t?), searching for that one special spreadsheet to rule them all.

      I assume having a predictable life would be better than being confused all the time, but that comes from the logic portion of my brain. My intuitive part tells me I wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s because of chaos I turn toward God, turn toward Cyndi, turn toward family and friends. I’m not sure I would do that if my world were more structured.

      For the past year I’ve gotten the same question from well-meaning friends almost every week: Are you officially retired these days? They ask because they care about me and because they’ve noticed my leisurely calendar. It doesn’t bother me except that I can’t decide how to answer.

      I’m on the payroll as a Professional Engineer for a local environmental company, which would normally mean I’m still working, but they haven’t needed me since last summer. I would like to be working more (Cyndi says I’m not happy unless I’m solving problems), but sometimes I dream of this next phase of life. In the meantime, I want to know how to get ready, whether working or retired, so I can plan. I want to know what’s next.

      I want to know my next move as soon as possible – whether I’m writing a book, or doing a big training ride on my bike, or picking the best lane on I-20 – I want to be ready before I must be. I don’t like making last minute decisions when I had plenty of time to avoid waiting until the last minute.

      Well, Friday morning, Christmas Eve, I told my friend Bill about my Southwest Airlines non-rev adventures and how I’m getting more comfortable not knowing how things will turn out. He laughed at my discomfort and said, “You made it through last week, you’re ready for 2022.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

100 Things That Made 2021

       It’s the most wonderful time of the year, the time for making lists, and I’m still at it. Lists make me happy, calm me down, and push me forward into the future – especially lists of happy things and good times.

       We tend to remember the bad over the good since most good things stretch out over long periods of time, but bad things happen all at once. So the bad things stick in our memory while the good things fade to the back. Also, we have an Enemy who tries to rob us of joy and love.

       Therefore, we must remind ourselves of the good things, the grace-filled things, the influential things, and the things that make us human. Living with gratitude is the secret to a meaningful life, and this exercise of listing people, events, and things that made the year better is a powerful move toward having a habitually thankful heart.

       Writer and artist, Austin Kleon, taught me to do this, and thanks to him this is my 7th edition. You may notice some repeats from my previous lists. That’s on purpose. I love the good things that stick year after year, and I want to call them out.

       I encourage you to put together your own list, and don’t stop until you can identify at least 100 things. It won’t be easy. You may have to find help to remember the best, so dig out your journals, comb through your calendars, review your reading lists and music purchases, and ask those who are close to you. It’s worth the effort.

       And when you do, I hope you share. A big part of imbedding gratitude in your life is making it known.

       (By the way, this list has been randomly sorted using the magic of Excel. Trying to rank items by importance is paralyzing.)

100 Things That Made 2021

1.       Lunch with my former colleagues, the Mayor, City Council members, and City Staff, reminiscing good times.

2.       Quote: "When you’re young, it’s easy to confuse strength with dominance; when you’re older, you realize the feat of character it takes to be meek. I used to imagine my calling was to defend the Truth. Now I’m just trying to figure out how to love.” (James K. A. Smith)

3.       Book: This Odd and Wondrous Calling: The Public and Private Lives of Two Ministers (Lilian Daniel and Martin Copenhaver)

4.       Song: Anyone At All, Carole King (from You’ve Got Mail)

5.       Holding hands with Cyndi

6.       Quote: “About 80 percent of the writing I do looks nothing like writing. It looks like reading, or daydreaming, or driving, or drawing, or listening to music, or lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.” (Elizabeth Percer)

7.       Successfully replacing the 12-volt battery in Cyndi’s Lexus hybrid without smashing my fingers or throwing out my back.

8.       Dinner in El Cajon with Randy and Sue Luce

9.       Ruthlessly blocking hateful people on Facebook

10.    Attended a Michael W Smith concert in Midland with Pyeatts and Hodges.

11.    Summer Lawn Concerts at the Museum of the Southwest, in Midland.

12.    Fly fishing in the Guadalupe River with Byron

13.    Reentering church leadership

14.    Regular phone calls from my brother, Carroll … and because of his new after-market hip, dreaming of future bike rides together

15.    Reading my Daily Bible

16.    Christmas concert at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville featuring Amy Grand and Vince Gill.

17.    Specialized Tarmac Elite road bike

18.    Watching my son, Byron, teach his niece and my granddaughter, Madden, how to peel and mash potatoes.

19.    Bear Trap Ranch

20.    Whataburger Yeti cup

21.    Working on my first novel, my first attempt at writing fiction

22.    Quote: “The greatest call of a spiritual director is to open the door to the opportunities for spiritual growth and sometimes to provide a glimpse of the great mysterious light behind the curtain of life.” (Henri J. M. Nouwen)

23.    Online conversations with Jeff Andrechyn about the fulness of life.

24.    Book: Think Like A Rocket Scientist, by Ozan Varol.

25.    British television series, New Tricks

26.    Playing music with Rabon Bewley

27.    Gran Camp 2021

28.    Playing in the FBC orchestra and Midland College Jazz Band with Cyndi

29.    Blue Bell vanilla ice cream, my summertime reward for each bike ride longer than one hour and 95*

30.    Soft Cover black squared Moleskine Journals

31.    Listening to Cyndi’s excitement when her students find deeper understanding.

32.    Playing solos with the Midland College Jazz Band

33.    Our large tribe of clever, intelligent, godly friends. Sometimes if feels like we have more than our share.

34.    Two garage doors that work.

35.    Our Family Vacation to Seacrest Beach, Florida

36.    The Quiet Room at Centennial Library finally reopened (after Covid shutdown).

37.    Base Camp Gathering in Colorado with my Noble Heart friends

38.    Story: While donating blood, a big bodybuilder sitting beside me finished up and stood, wavered a bit, then walked on. He asked, “If someone big like me falls down, how do you women get me back up?”
“We don’t. We put a blanket on you and a pillow under your head and leave you alone.”

39.    Sitting with Cory on the back row of our church orchestra

40.    100 continuous days of working out (and hoping this is only the first of many 100-day projects).

41.    Movie: The Adjustment Bureau

42.    A dress-up date with Cyndi to the High Sky Crystal Ball.

43.    Uncovering the actual date of my baptism with help from Kermit friends: January 19, 1964.

44.    The Delta Flyer podcast

45.    Celebrating the life of Robert Walter.

46.    Journey Groups

47.    Riding the Paluxy Pedal and Tour de Agua bike tours with my brother, Carroll

48.    Receiving letters from my granddaughter, Landry, and writing back to her.

49.    Book: Everything Happens For A Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved (Kate Bowler)

50.    Playing trombone with Denver and the Mile High Orchestra in Tyler, Texas

51.    Quote: “I have everything that I wanted as a teenager, only 60 years later.”

52.    Playing with the FBC Praise Band with Rabon and Craig

53.    Cyndi soloing on the vibraphone at our Christmas concert.

54.    Leonid & Friends

55.    Donating 123rd pint of blood

56.    Green Chile Chicken Stew from Market Street.

57.    Book: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (John le Carre’) -(book, movie 2011, TV mini series 1979 (I like them all))

58.    Energel Liquid Gel Ink Metal Tip 07mm ball pens

59.    Quote: “I shall never forget you. And in all my troubles past and all my troubles yet to come, I'll never find a better friend.” (Kris Kringle, Miracle on 34th Street, 1994)

60.    My Panama hat

61.    My first time to testify as a witness in a courtroom trial, and it was on behalf of a great friend.

62.    Magazine interview with James Pankow, trombone player with Chicago, titled “Making the Trombone Cool for 54 Years.” I still play trombone today because I heard Pankow play a solo in 1971.

63.    Movie: Salmon Fishing in the Yemen

64.    Discussing life plans and future projects with Gary Barkalow and Sam Williamson

65.    30th annual Midland Storytelling Festival

66.    Gentle yoga class

67.    Kevin’s graduation from Marine Corp Boot Camp in August in San Diego.

68.    Hike to the summit of Guadalupe Peak with Iron Men, my 21st time on top.

69.    Sitting on the couch with Cyndi watching TV episodes together – a practice we learned during the Covid Shutdown of 2020.

70.    Road trip to Tyler with Craig Freeman

71.    Watching granddaughter Madden blossom as a gymnast. I have no idea where she hides all that strength in such a tiny body.

72.    2020 Summer Olympics (held in 2021)

73.    Watching the 2021 New York City Marathon on TV. It was the first time in the past ten years I’ve felt left out.

74.    Forty Ways to Keep Your Lover

75.    Finding my books on the Local Author shelf at the Centennial Library in Midland (I look for them every time I pass by.)

76.    Movie: A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

77.    Lunches with Chris Cruz; he always takes me a new restaurant I never knew existed.

78.    Watching Cyndi decorate cookies

79.    Song: Wouldn’t It Be Nice, by Trousdale

80.    Trusting Cyndi when she says celery juice is worth it.

81.    Reading beside the stream in the park near my house

82.    Yellow highlighters

83.    Cyndi’s homemade apple pie

84.    Working on Granbury lake house projects with Katie

85.    Sudoku puzzles

86.    Playing a Conga-Trombone duet with Cyndi for the 11:00 service at our church.

87.    Donating eight boxes of books to the Midland County Friends of the Library (don’t worry, I still have more than plenty).

88.    Cyndi playing the congas.

89.    Story: Cyndi was singing songs from The Sound of Music, so I joined in.
Me: “I am sixty-five, going on sixty-six, I’ll take care of you.”
Cyndi: “That doesn’t work.”
Me: “But you need someone older and wiser.”
Cyndi: “That just doesn’t swing.”

90.    Daily writing practice

91.    NB 1540v2 running shoes

92.    Mailing birthday cards

93.    Traveling down the highway listening to audio books with Cyndi

94.    Regular dinners with Britt and Patti Pyeatt

95.    Cyndi Simpson in yoga pants

96.    Returning to the MS150; riding with a strong southerly tailwind.

97.    Bill Britt with Integrity Massage – he keeps me straight and loose

98.    The peace that comes from not watching 24-hour TV news

99.    Fleece pullovers

100. Walking around the neighborhood ponds across from our house with Cyndi

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

The Season Comes 'round Again

      I’m working on this while flying home from Nashville, where Cyndi, Katie, and I attended a concert – Amy Grant and Vince Gill in concert at the Ryman Auditorium. Amy Grant is especially fun at Christmas, and this was no exception. The concert was excellent. In fact, it was a respite, no, a reconstruction, or reestablishment, of the hope of the season. It was what I needed.

Love has come
For the World to know
As the wise men knew
Such a long time ago
And I believe angels sang
That hope had begun
When the God of glory
Who is full of mercy
Sent His Son

      Last week I testified in court as a character witness for my friend, David. It was my first time ever in the witness box; not only that, but I’ve never even served on a jury. My courtroom experience was zero. I’d been thinking about this, about what I ought to say, about not making a mess of things, for two months, since David first asked me. I was more nervous testifying for a friend than I would’ve been testifying for myself.

      There were about six of us on the list to testify, and we were called to the courtroom Wednesday morning at 8:30 am. They were ready for us first thing. I was third in the queue, and I couldn’t’ve been in the courtroom more than three minutes. I was on my way to the parking lot soon after 9:00 am.

      After leaving the courthouse, I drove to Whataburger near I-20 to decompress and work on my Iron Men lesson for Thursday morning. I needed something else to concentrate on. We’re working our way through the book, Jesus is the Question, by Martin Copenhaver, and in chapter eleven (about how we often feel abandoned by God) he wrote, “In most instances, the greatest obstacle to faith is not belief’s irrationality but life’s injustices.” It felt especially on-target to me.

      I drove home, intending to put some big miles on my bike to burn off the adrenaline built up over the past two days, but by the time I got home I was too heavy. I don’t know any other way to describe it. My heart felt heavy, and my mind felt heavy. So instead of riding my bike, I went to bed and napped for about an hour. It worked for Elijah, maybe it would work for me. David has been one of my guys for ten years; I’d underestimated how much of this load I was carrying around.

      I could feel the weight of a family who lost their son because he was doing his job, protecting the community, and the weight of a great friend whose own son was Nathan’s best friend when they were growing up.

      I felt the weight of a police force who feared this was one more instance of open season on officers.

      And I felt the weight on David, how everything can go completely wrong in an instant, even when all you want to do is protect your own family.

      Sorry to be so dark just before Christmas, but these past days were a deep dive into faith for me. I was reminded that the very sense of injustice we often feel is an indicator of the image of God within us. We didn’t learn our expectation of fairness as a process of evolution, but because we were made in God’s image.

      After the concert I left the Ryman auditorium singing songs in my head … mostly this one, which is one of my favorite Christmas songs:

May the new year be blessed with good tidings
‘til the next time I see you again
We'll all join hands and remember this moment
And we'll love and we'll laugh in the time that we have
‘til the season comes 'round again

      Christmas is a reminder that no matter how bad the year has been, whether because of a long quarantine shut-down, or a scary trial of a close friend, or something even worse, God did not leave us to wallow in despair. We aren’t alone, we haven’t been abandoned, we have help to work out our lives. We know and expect 2022 to brings it’s own share of surprises and disasters, but we can enter it with hope because of Emanuel, God with us.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

25 Good Books I Read in 2021

      It’s no secret – I’m a man of lists. I love making lists, whether shopping lists, to-do lists, book lists, running and biking lists, hiking lists, blood pressure and heartrate lists, and even list lists. I agree with the sentiments of Sheldon Cooper, from The Big Bang, who once said, “If there were a list of things that make me more comfortable, lists would be at the top of that list.”

      Way back in 1986 I followed the advice of motivational speaker Jim Rohn and started keeping a list of books I’d read. It wasn’t a hard decision. I love to read, and my reading habit precedes my list-making habit by decades.

      I don’t expect everyone to love reading as much as I do, or like the same books I like, but I know all of us would be better people if we read a book or two every year. And so, here are some suggestions. These are listed in the order I read them; I didn’t try to rank them by importance or enjoyment … that’s a paralyzing and pointless exercise. However, if you’re interested, give me your email address and I’ll send you my entire Excel reading list for 2020. In fact, I’ll send you my complete list going back to 1986 if you want, but it isn’t a quick glance. And send me your own list. I’m always searching for ideas.

      I read non-fiction almost exclusively. But my audio books are almost all fiction, and most likely spy thrillers and the like.

      This is my list of 20 Good Books I Read in 2020, the books that turned out to be the most meaningful for me over the past twelve months. Reviewing my spreadsheet to find these particular twenty books helps me remember God’s providence throughout the year. What was it I thought I needed to hear or to learn, or to remember, that caused me to choose that particular book? Sometimes these lists give me a clue.

      Should you choose to read one of these books, I’d love to hear from you. I enjoy hearing different takes on books that made my year better. And if you have any recommendations for me, I’d love to hear those, too.

      (By the way, this list is in the order I read these books. Trying to rank them by importance would freak me out, so I went with straight chronology. 

1.     Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: A George Smiley Novel, by John LeCarre … Ex British spy, George Smiley, searches for the Soviet mole buried within the highest level of British Intelligence. I enjoy the audible version of LeCarre’s books – The reader’s British accent matches the prose.

2.     Everything Happens For a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved, by Kate Bowler … A deep dive into the prosperity gospel and it’s conflict with the author’s diagnosis of stage IV colon cancer.

3.     Tribes: On Homecoming and Belonging, by Sebastian Junger … about the human instinct to belong to small groups defined by clear purpose and understanding.

4.     Grandma Gatewood's Walk: The Inspiring Story of the Woman Who Saved the Appalachian Trail, by Ben Montgomery … In 1955, Emma Gatewood hiked the 2,000+ mile Appalachian Trail at age 67.

5.     Running the World: Marathon Memoirs from the Seven Continents, by Nick Butter … In 2018-2019, the author ran 196 marathons in every one of the world’s 196 countries.

6.     Little Drummer Girl, by John LeCarre' … A young British actor is recruited to infiltrate a Palestinian terrorist group.

7.     Jesus is the Question: The 307 Questions Jesus Asked and the 3 He Answered, by Martin Copenhaver … considers the questions Jesus asked - what they tell us about Jesus and, more important, what our responses might say about what it means to follow Him.

8.     Ten Marathons: Searching for the Soft Ground in a Hard World, by Doug Schneider … a memoir of a mid-pack runner who tracks the ups and downs of his life with marathons.

9.     Fred Rogers: The Last Interview and Other Conversations, by David Bianculli … Demonstrates Rogers’ impact on us all even twenty years after his death.

10.  We Need to Hang Out: A Memoir of Making Friends, by Billy Baker … the author’s search to understand the modern loneliness epidemic.

11.  This Old Man: All In Pieces, by Roger Angell … a collection of the authors writings for the New Yorker.

12.  Fearless: The Undaunted Courage and Ultimate Sacrifice of Navy SEAL Team SIX Operator Adam Brown, by Eric Brown … a biography of courage, persistence, redemption, and rescue.

13.  Being Gary Fisher: And the Bicycle Revolution, by Gary Fisher … The story of a maverick kid bike racer who went on to transform the cycling industry by selling mountains bikes to the world.

14.  King Richard: Nixon and Watergate: An American Tragedy, by Michael Dobbs … An excellent account of the events and characters of the Watergate scandal (the first national news story I paid attention to besides the Viet Nam War).

15.  The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction, by Eugene Peterson … words of wisdom and refreshment for pastors caught in the busyness of preaching, teaching, and running the church.

16.  The Optimist: A Case for the Fly Fishing Life, by David Coggins … makes a case for the skills and sensibility of fly fishing

17.  On The Road Bike: The Search for a Nation’s Cycling Soul, by Ned Boulting … A search asking how Britain become so obsessed with cycling.

18.  This Odd and Wondrous Calling: The Public and Private Lives of Two Ministers, by Lilian Daniel and Martin Copenhaver … An honest look at the challenges and joy of pastoring.

19.  Half a Life: A Memoir, by Darin Strauss … examines the far-reaching consequences of a tragic moment that shadowed the author’s whole life.

20.  The Illusion of Separateness: A Novel, by Simon Van Boy … How one man’s act of mercy during World War II changed the lives of strangers, and how they each discover the truth of their connections.

21.  The Genius of Jesus: The Man Who Changed Everything, by Erwin McManus … Examines the person of Jesus not simply through the lens of his divinity, but as a man who radically changed the possibility of what it means to be human.

22.  My Mother Was Nuts, by Penny Marshall … A memoir from the movie director and TV star who was funnier than all the rest.

23.  All the Places to Go … How Will You Know?: God Has Placed Before You an Open Door – What Will You Do?, by John Ortberg … Opens our eyes to the countless doors God places before us every day, teaches us how to recognize them, and gives us the encouragement to step out in faith and embrace all of the extraordinary opportunities that await.

24.  Think Like a Rocket Scientist: Simple Strategies You Can Use to Make Giant Leaps in Work and Life, by Ozan Varol

25.  The One Year Chronological Bible, published by Tyndale … I read through this every year, and nothing has influenced my relationship with God more.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Giving Thanks

      Thanksgiving was a good time. We had, at the peak of the crowd, ten people in our small lake house in Granbury, and most of us stayed for five days. Ten people, even people we like, felt a bit like we were always on top of each other, especially for the introverted branch of the family – namely, me, Katie, and Madden.

      Besides cooking excellent food and deserts, we finished several projects: replaced a broken and dead washing machine, assembled and put into service two bunk beds, and repaired (rerouted) the washing machine drain pipe.

      Our son Byron was in charge of preparing Thanksgiving dinner, Cyndi and daughter-in-law Angela made pies, Cyndi handled breakfast (including some improvisatory pancakes that contained none of the expected ingredients, but were very tasty), daughter Katie made gooey delicious sandwiches. Me – I mostly took care of the ice. Thanks to me, we had plenty of ice. Especially since I was the only one who used it.

      We watched two football games in which the wrong teams won, a Christmas movie or two, and Cyndi guided our granddaughters through a series of Christmas crafts.

      We attended the annual Granbury Christmas parade, which is always short in length but deep in small-town-Texas values. It was crowded. We arrived an hour before parade start and nabbed the only remaining frontage to set our lawn chairs. All the rest of the courthouse square was occupied, all the way around, both sides of the street.

      This year, I brought a project of my own for everyone to do together. It was something I found in a newsletter by Austin Kleon, one of my most significant influences nowadays. He published a tiny Gratitude Zine and instructions for making your own. I printed enough pages for us each to have one.

      Kleon wrote, It is possible to have everything and feel nothing! It’s possible to be alive and feel dead! Here are some exercises that help me cultivate gratitude and be awake to what’s good in my life.

      I wrote, I’m thankful for:

      (1) Cyndi

      (2) B & K & A & T & K & M & L & D

      (3) movement

      (4) dirt trails

      (5) music

      (6) playing music

      (7) my Daily Bible

      (8) books

      (9) cycling with a tailwind

      (10) Cyndi’s homemade apple pie.

      My list of people I’ve learned from and what they taught me:

      Thanks to my dad, who taught me to find the joke in all things and all times.

      Thanks to my mom, who taught me to pay attention to details and to read and observe.

      Thanks to Cyndi, who taught me to be open to wacky ideas and spontaneous fun.

      And what do I love to do (not nouns, or objects, but verbs that give joy)?

      Move – run, bike, hike

      Read – lots of books

      Write – express personal thoughts

      Music – play and improvise

      Teach – give away what I’ve received.

      I encourage you to download this Gratitude Zine and answer the questions. Being intentionally grateful takes courage because so many things come at us unexpectedly. It’s easier, lazier, to simply complain about everything, but who wants to live a sorry life like that?

      Why does it matter? Because the grace of God follows, even chases after, hearts full of gratitude. I hope this holiday season is a grateful, thankful, worship experience for you. Thank you for reading these blog entries. I am grateful for you.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Another Conversation with Myself, Part Two

 (To read Part One, click here)

       Don asked, “So, how’s your ankle, now? Did you try praying?”

      Berry answered, “It’s mostly all I did last weekend – prayed for healing and understanding.”

      “That’s all you did all weekend?”

      “Well, I limped around a lot. And watched college football.”

      “What happened?”

      “The Sooners won.”

      “What happened with your ankle?”

      “When the pain in my ankle moved from the outside to the inside, I knew this wasn’t a muscle or tendon injury. They don’t move around. And when it started to swell and turn red, I knew my typical treatment - suffer until it goes away - wasn’t working, either. I started asking around about Podiatrist recommendations, planning to make an appointment as soon as possible.”

      “What happened?”

      “Sunday morning, I stayed home while Cyndi went to church. I knew I couldn’t play in the orchestra and negotiate my way on and off the stage in either worship service. I also knew it would take the entire Sunday School hour to hobble my way to class and back. So, I stayed home.”

      “You seem to be working up to a big story. What happened?”

      “Cyndi told my sad tale to the other guys in the orchestra, and they jumped on it. Thought it was an infection, and I should go to the neighborhood clinic for a shot to clear it up.”

      “Leave it to the boys in the band to recommend pharmaceuticals.”

      “I went to the neighborhood clinic. It was surprisingly quick and inexpensive, and it took Jeff, the NP (Nurse Practitioner), only seconds to rule out infection and rule in gout. That was something I ruled out in the beginning because I thought it only happened in toes.”

      “I remember you were pretty sure of your analysis about it not being gout.”

      “Well, yes. Of course.”

      “But once again, always thinking you are right led you down the wrong path?”

      “Yeah, whatever. The point is, a nurse gave me a shot of anti-inflammatory and sent me home.”

      “Did you feel better?”

      “The first thing I did was sleep for five hours. Like a stone. “

      “Did you feel better?”

      “When I finally woke up, I was surprised how much better I felt, how much smaller my ankle was, and how well I could walk. It was the miracle I had been praying for.”

      “I thought you got a shot, not a miracle.”

      “Miracles happen in all forms. God works through science and medicine, not against it.”

      “So, you got a miracle in your butt.”

      “Sure. But that would be a terrible title for the sermon.”

      “What happened next?”

      “By Monday I’d forgotten my ankle had ever hurt. I was walking everywhere. I might’ve broken out into a happy dance if I were the sort of person who does that sort of thing.”

      “Did you learn anything, except to diagnose gout quicker?”

      “I calmed immediately when I had a professional diagnosis and plan. Even if the plan turned out to be wrong, I was following expert advice. I needed that.”

      “What about prayer?”

      “Well, I believe the miracle I was praying for turned out to be more than healing my ankle. It was about healing my heart. It was about laying down my self-sufficiency and allowing God to answer through someone else. Someone I’d never met before.”

      “Well done, Mr. Simpson. That was indeed a miracle.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Simpson. You guided me well.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Another Conversation with Myself

      Berry asked, “Did you sleep well last night? I noticed you got up and went to the living room couch at 2:00 am.”

      I answered, “You know I didn’t. My right ankle throbbed all night. Kept me awake.”

      “I thought your left ankle was your bad one.”

      “That was yesterday. Today, it’s my right one.”

      “What happened to your ankle? Did you overuse it again? Isn’t that what usually gets you into trouble?”

      “I have no idea what happened. I don’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary all-day Monday. I rode my bike for a couple of hours, but there’s nothing unusual about that.”

      “Maybe it was the Finance Committee meeting Sunday afternoon when they released the members who were rolling off and you bolted from the room?”

      “Cyndi would laugh if she heard you use the term bolted to explain anything I do.”

      “So, what happened? Ankles don’t go bad on their own.”

      “Well, firstly, maybe they do. Maybe injury without warning is more common than you think. I have a friend whose eyes blew up on him this past summer, with little or no warning. And secondly, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m older than I used to be. Maybe it is a natural part of aging to get new pains in the middle of the night. In fact, it happened to me about a year ago with my big toe.”

      “If I remember, that was gout. Not an injury. Do you think you have gout in your ankle?”

      “No. Ankles aren’t susceptible to gout. Toes are. And if it were gout my ankle would be swollen and red.”

      “Did you feel any other soreness? Were you especially tired? As if you had been wrestling all night?”

      “You are referring to the Bible story of Jacob who wrestled all night long with an angel? I have no memory of that, which would defeat the purpose. Also, I’m sure Cyndi would have noticed had I been wrestling all night.”

      “Because Jacob ended up with an injured hip. It bothered him the rest of his life.”

      “That’s right, he did. That isn’t what happened to me.”

      “So, you’re saying you weren’t touched on the ankle by God.”

      “No, not saying that. God might very well have touched my ankle. But I am saying there was no wrestling match.”

      “What are you going to do about it?”

      “I have a giant bottle of ibuprofen and a drawer full of ankle braces. I’m going to start with those and see what happens.”

      “What are you afraid of?”

      “Who said I was afraid? I’m in problem-solving and making compensation mode.”

      “What are you afraid of?”

      “I’m not afraid of anything. I expect this to be gone in a couple of days and I’ll be back to running and cycling. I might even be able to do a long ride on Saturday.”

      “What are you afraid of?”

      “I’m afraid of being the weakest link. I’m afraid of being the one everyone waits for. I’m afraid of explaining why I’m limping.”

      “Really, that bothers you when people ask why you’re limping?”

      “No. I appreciate people caring about me. But I don’t want to be answering that question for the next thirty-five years.”

      “What are you going to do next? Today?”

      “Well, besides the ibuprofen and ankle brace and all, I’ll spend most of the day sitting down. I want to give my ankle time to heal.”

      “You aren’t going to a doctor?”

      “Not yet. I don’t have a podiatrist anymore, so I don’t know where I’d go. And I won’t consider going to a doctor unless I see swelling or discoloration.”

      “I see you’ve thought a lot about this.”

      “I think a lot about everything. You, of all people, should know that.”

      “Do you think you’re immune to the aches and pains of aging?”

      “Is your name Bob? He always asked me that.”

      “Do you think you’re immune?”

      “Yes. And no. Yes, because being immune is always my default assumption. No, because I’ve learned of the past few years that I’m not immune to anything. I’m way more vulnerable than I’m comfortable with.”

      “Have you prayed about this?”

      “I was about to. Now I’m waiting for you to stop chattering in my head.”

      “Maybe you should have started with that, instead of waiting for me.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Garage Door Blues

        It’s Tuesday and I’m sitting at my desk in my library, typing on my laptop, with the door to our garage standing open in case the gentleman doing all the work needs my help.

       I finally broke down and called Overhead Door to fix the big double door on my side of the garage. Yesterday, even my secret personal magic couldn’t make the door go down, and by the time I was finished, it was hanging crooked and disconnected from the chain track. I was so much at a loss of ideas I resorted to the last thing I wanted to do … ask someone else for help.

       I waited around all morning at home knowing he might arrive at any time. While waiting I replaced the taillight assembly on Cyndi’s car so I can get it inspected for her. That was more of a project than I expected. It eventually required pulling loose the interior cover of the hatchback. This made me nervous. Pulling it loose was easy. Pulling things loose is almost always the easiest part. Putting it back so that it stays in place from now on even when your wife is driving on a bumpy road or loading treasures in Canton and she isn’t embarrassed when it all falls off is the hardest part.

       So far, I got everything back in place, no extraneous parts, and nothing has fallen off. Of course, I haven’t moved the car yet.

       When the Hector the garage door repairman drove up, the very first thing he noticed – I should say, the very first THINGS he noticed – were all my previous repairs to both doors. It didn’t take him long to understand the improvisatory nature of my work and, I have to say, to my regret, he wasn’t impressed with any of it. None of it.

       The first thing he did was replace all my work with correct pieces and attached them properly. I’m glad Cyndi wasn’t here to witness my disappointment, after the bragging I’ve done through the years showing her my ad hoc repairs and boasting about all the money I’d saved. Hector had them off the doors and new parts back on in only minutes.

       Of course, in my defense, he had an entire truck loaded with correct parts and correct screws and proper glue, not to mention the fact he knew what he was doing and had done all of it many times before. So, he definitely had the advantage over me. I should have invited him inside to work on a spreadsheet or two, or maybe type an essay, or how about this, play some jazz licks on my trombone. Who’d be the boss then, huh? Me, that’s who.

       Well, the thing is, I know that when Hector drives away both doors will work better, and Cyndi (and I) will be happier than ever. I expect our neighbors will be happier, too, since they won’t have to wait behind me in the alley while I try four or five times to lower the door.

       I keep waiting for the day to arrive when all my stuff stays together. I hate constant maintenance, fiddling, or adjusting. I want to put in the effort to make something I like and then know it will stay that way from now on. But instead, the lawn wants to be mowed again (that one, I’ve taken care of), the sprinkler heads want to pop off and blow water into the street, the air conditioner filters want to be changed again, the room wants to be painted again, the clothes want to be washed again, my bicycle tire needs air again … there is no end to it all.

       Sort of like me. I keep waiting for the day to arrive when I know the right thing to do every time, when I treat people the best and most loving way possible, when my calendar comes together and stays together week after week, when, all my joints settle into their present pains and don’t introduce new ones, when all writing is easy and all lessons a joy to learn and study and teach.

       I don’t know how old I have to live for all those dreams to come true, but I know my dad was eighty-eight when he died and none of those things were true for him. Apparently, constant maintenance is the way of the world. From now on.

       There is good news, however. As my friend David reminded me this morning over coffee, Philippians 1:6 says, “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (NIV). That means it isn’t all up to me. I don’t have to improvise and fake my way through life with wrong parts and marginal techniques. I have help from the maker of all things, and his desire is to finish his work in me.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32