100 Things That Made 2024

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

      Writer and artist, Austin Kleon, taught me to create a list of things that made my year; I wrote my first list in 2014, so this is my 11th 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.

      When we look back over our life, and over the previous year, we tend to remember the bad over the good.

      Why is that?

      Two reasons: 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 and covers over our best memories with the debris of daily life.

      Therefore, we must intentionally 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.

      I encourage you to put together your own list and try not to stop until you can identify at least 100 things. A list of the best things you watched, the best things you ate, the best advice you received, the best apps you discovered, the best lines you heard in a movie, the best book you read that’s been sitting on your shelf for more than a decade, the best changes you made to your daily routine. Ask yourself, what did you watch or read or cook or listen to or consume this year? Look back over 12 months and ask: “What did I love this year? What do I recommend?”

      It won’t be easy, and it will take some time. You may have to find help to remember the best, so dig out your journals, flip through the photos on your phone, comb through your calendars, review your reading lists and music purchases, and ask those who are close to you. It can be a lot of work, but trust me, it’s worth the effort.

      And when you do, I hope you share. I’d love to see your list. A big part of imbedding gratitude in your life is making it known.

100 Things That Made 2024

      (By the way: (1) This list has been randomly sorted; trying to rank items by importance is paralyzing; and (2) I don’t mention Cyndi very often, but you can correctly assume she was part of almost every one of these.)

1.     Our jungle of a front yard this summer; not only lots of bushy plants but ten-feet-tall sunflowers.

2.     Speaking at The Springs Church men’s breakfast in Colorado Springs, in January, about relational mentoring. (for more information about relational mentoring, follow this link.)

3.     Serving on the Midland Development Corporation board. After six years I’m term limited; my last meeting will be in January 2025. It will probably be my last fling with city government, but who knows. Maybe something else will come up!

4.     Traveling down the highway listening to audio books with Cyndi. We may go hours without talking to each other, yet it feels like we’re on a date.

5.     Rediscovering a collection of essays I wrote from reading the Bible book of Exodus. I had forgotten about them.

6.     Solving Crossword puzzles each morning. (This year I switched from Sudoku to Crosswords to use a different part of my brain. It’s my small effort against dementia.)

7.     Stuffing my first dollar into a Salvation Army kettle at Loop 250 Market Street in Midland.

8.     Kevin Willhite with Soft Touch Chiropractic Clinic. He keeps me straight and pain-free.

9.     The post-ride protein reload at Black’s Barbeque in San Marcus with Carroll’s family, following the Ride to End Alzheimer’s.

10.  Watching the total eclipse in April. I didn’t expect to ever see one in person.

11.  Book: When the Sea Came Alive: An Oral History of D-Day, Garrett Graff

12.  Walking around our neighborhood park with Cyndi. (I’ve finally embraced walking instead of running. It feels like who I am nowadays.)

13.  Our July trip to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, with Katie and Madden and Landry and Tonya. Thanks to Craig and Linda for their hospitality.

14.  Making cotton candy with Cyndi at the FBC Candy Jam.

15.  Playing jazz with Craig at the Schrenkel’s Christmas party, hoping some of Craig’s skills might slop over onto me.

16.  Cold plunges at Cyndi’s yoga studio. No one could be more surprised than me how refreshingly fun this is.

17.  Joke: (from drummer phenom Gene Cedras) The Calvary was crossing the Great Plains when they heard the sound of war drums. The captain said, “I don’t like the sound of those drums.” Then a voice called out, “It’s not our regular drummer.”

18.  Chicago & Earth Wind Fire concert at Dickie’s Arene in Ft. Worth with my horn-blowing buddies and families.

19.  Speaking about writing to Clark Moreland’s Integrated Reading and Writing class at UTPB

20.  Cyndi’s insulated cups she made for the 20th Anniversary of Iron Men.

21.  Pentatonix concert in Ft. Worth. It was a stunning performance shared with 15,000 people.

22.  Telling stories about my mom at the Mother’s Day Storytelling event.

23.  Book: Empire of the Sum: The Rise and Reign of the Pocket Calculator, Keith Houston. (This was an excellent account of invention and development, and a walk through my personal timeline.)

24.  Cooking on my Pit Boss pellet grill. So far, pork chops, brisket, and hamburgers have been my best efforts. This year for thanksgiving, I smoked my first turkey. (I would love to have your favorite recipes.)

25.  Strawberry Hot Springs in Steamboat

26.  Watching The Muppet Christmas Carol on November 1st. “Mother always taught me: Never eat singing fruit.”

27.  Book: God Gave Rock and Roll To You: A History of Contemporary Christian Music, Leah Payne. (Another walk through our family timeline, from teen years to grandparent.)

28.  Metro Big Band music mission trip to Naples, Italy. It was the 4th Global Missions Project for Cyndi and me.

29.  Watching the Paris Summer Olympics. We tried to see at least a bit of every event.

30.  Attending the Southern Baptist Convention in Indianapolis with church friends in June.

31.  Wrangler Relaxed-Fit jeans. Skinny jeans don’t work for me.

32.  At a group lunch at Murray’s in Midland, world-famous storyteller Antonio Rocha, sitting across the table from Cyndi and me, said, “I can tell you two enjoy having fun together; I can see it in your faces.” His comment makes us happy every time we remember it. It’s who we hope to be.

33.  Quote: From an announcer at the Paris Olympics 2024. “Young horses run fast; old horses know the way.”

34.  Quote: “Not enough sleep is the apex predator of human behavior change;” Dan Harris, How to be a Better Human podcast,” (I have to force myself to get enough sleep. There is always something else I’d rather do.) (Bonus: apex predator of human behavior change is my favorite phrase of 2024.)

35.  Speaking at the FBC Midland Men’s Breakfast in June.

36.  Thanksgiving dinner at our house with Tonya, Michal, David, and Melanie.

37.  Reading my Daily Bible.

38.  Cycling 70 miles with my brother Carroll up and down the Texas Hill Country near Wimberley in the Ride to End Alzheimer’s.

39.  Our Christmas in Granbury with Byron, Angela, Katie, Landry, Madden, and Tonya.

40.  Quote: “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘Wow! What a ride!’” (attributed to Hunter S. Thompson) – correspondingly - “The problem with putting things off to the last minute is that the last minute arrives more quickly than we expect.” (Maggie Smith)

41.  A friend found me in my secret hidden back corner at Rosa’s and said, “I thought it was you.” “Really? How?” “I recognized the back of your head. And only you, as an adult, would carry a quirky backpack like that.”

42.  Watching and listening to Cyndi read from the book, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, in our Ezekiel Class. I’m sure I’ve listened to Cyndi read this at least 100 times, whether in class or in our car while driving to my parent’s house for Thanksgiving, and yet, I still haven’t developed an immunity. I can’t help tearing up when Gladys Herdman yells, “Hey, Unto You a Child Is Born.”

43.  Playing in the FBC orchestra and Midland College Jazz Band with Cyndi. (One of my favorite things about life is that Cyndi and I’ve played music together since 1973. It’s a strong tie that binds.)

44.  Soft-Cover, black, squared Moleskine Journals.

45.  Tuesday and Thursday morning gentle yoga class at Midland Yoga Works. It’s just my speed.

46.  Cyndi Simpson in yoga pants.

47.  The 33rd annual Midland Storytelling Festival. We’ve attended all 33. Follow this link for videos.

48.  Playing with our reinforced FBC orchestra and choir for the Christmas presentation. Sometimes I can hardly stay seated in my chair.

49.  The outside escape room in downtown Steamboat Springs.

50.  FBC Men’s Retreat at The Greathouse Center with my good friend, and our speaker, Sam Williamson.

51.  Playing in the combined jazz ensemble (Midland College, Odessa College, UTPB) with guest clinician and premier trumpet player, Willie Murillo.

52.  Joining the crowd from Midland to watch our local favorite, Bryce Hoppel, run 800 meters in the Paris Olympics.

53.  Attending the High-Speed Aerospace Transportation Workshop at UTPB School of Engineering. It was one more opportunity to see and hear ideas that are literally over my head. Each year I pick up another 2-3%. One thing I’ve noticed. Attendees find their seats quickly, and sit quietly. This is a room full of introverts, not social butterflies. Engineers, not real estate agents.

54.  Book: How We Got To Now: Six Innovations That Made the Modern World, by Steven Johnson

55.  Playing trombone with Denver and the Mile High Orchestra in Fredericksburg and Midland.

56.  Skiing in January at Santa Fe with Katie and our granddaughters, Madden and Landry.

57.  Writing Sunday School lessons for Connect 360 and GC2 Press. (Me: “Cyndi, all the other authors are seminary grads and PhDs.” Cyndi: “That’s why they asked you, to hear a different voice.”)

58.  Mailing birthday cards.

59.  Quote: “We shouldn’t see our opinions as cherished possessions. We should treat them like everyday clothes. Look at the views in your closet that were trendy once. Discard the ones that look silly to you now. Wear the ideas that fit you today. Be ready to outgrow some of them tomorrow.” (Adam Grant) … and correspondingly … "I hold ideas very loosely," (Malcolm Gladwell) … and … Me: I hope to spend the rest of my life revaluating my opinions and learning new viewpoints.

60.  Friday evening dinners with Britt and Patti Pyeatt. Feels like family. Feels like home.

61.  Yellow highlighters. I buy them by the box and use them all the time. Also Pentel EnerGel 0.7 tip ballpoint pens, red and blue.

62.  Playing Rummikub with granddaughters

63.  Book: Gun Lap: Staying in the Race with Purpose, Robert Wolgemuth. (This will be our book for Iron Men Spring 2025)

64.  Me: “Can I pick up a prescription for my wife?” Pharmacist (smiling): “Can you prove that you are married?” Me: “If you look deep into my heart …” Pharmacist: “That works. But I also need her name and birthday.”

65.  Learning about South African Braai, and wondering how to create something like that with friends in Texas

66.  Teaching in the Ezekiel Class.

67.  Sharing cartoons on my Facebook page.

68.  The neighborhood ducks laughing at us on our early morning walks around the ponds. They’re so proud and protective of their duck life.

69.  Reading Austin Kleon’s compilation newsletter every Friday morning

70.  Dancing with Cyndi.

71.  Movie: The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. I loved the newest version released in 2024, and I also loved the previous version from 1983 featuring Loretta Swit.

72.  Cycling on the Austin Veloway and surrounding neighborhood with Carroll.

73.  Not watching 24-hour TV news.

74.  Worshiping in the Vita Abbondante Chiesa Battista de Casoria (Abundant Life Baptist Church of Casoria), singing Jesus Mesiah in Italian.

75.  Book: The Dusty Ones: Why Wandering Deepens Your Faith, A.J. Swoboda

76.  My Whataburger Yeti cup.

77.  When people show me their own list of 100 things.

78.  Hiking Guadalupe Peak with the Evermore Class.

79.  Our standing date (Cyndi, Tonya, and me) at Blue Sky every Friday at 1:00 pm, where we split a hamburger, tater tots, and Caesar salad. Simple, routine events like this place another drop of glue that binds us together.

80.  A new word I learned: Assumicide (to cause harm due to faulty assumptions).

81.  Taco Tuesdays with friends from the Ezekiel Class.

82.  Cyndi’s homemade apple pie. Not only it is my favorite, knowing she makes it just for me feeds my heart.

83.  From my friend Jody: “You say introvert. I say state of the art social filtration system that improves the quality and purity of interaction by preemptively reducing contaminants.” Well said, Jody.

84.  Finishing the year with 3,031 books on my reading list (since 1986). Send me your 2024 reading list and I’ll send you mine. Maybe we’ll discover new books together.

85.  My first experience with Virtual Reality, flying an F-104 at Mach 2.5, using MITRE’s Virtual Reality flight simulator.

86.  Regular lunches with my pastor, Dr. Darin Wood, and friend, Clark Moreland. The conversations trend toward brainy, even when discussing Legos.

87.  The Thanksgiving Sunday evening worship service at my church, a combined service of four churches from four denominations in Midland: First Baptist, First Methodist, First Presbyterian, and Golf Course Road.

88.  Fly fishing in January with Byron and Angela in the freezing water of the Guadalupe River near Canyon Lake, Texas.

89.  Donating my 139th pint of blood (17.375 gallons since 1988). My life goal is 160 pints (20 gallons), which means I have about four years to go before I have to set a new goal. (It makes me happy to donate blood and I always look forward to it. If you aren't a regular doner, I encourage you to consider it. I can’t think of anything else we can give away that costs less (our body makes more blood to replace the donation with no conscious effort on our part) and benefits someone else so much.

90.  Playing Christmas jazz with Rabon and Craig at the Midland Art Crawl in Cyndi’s yoga studio (Midland Yoga Works New).

91.  My first Men Around the Fire eating hamburgers and storytelling at our house. I hope to do this at least once a quarter.

92.  C.A.B.B.A.R. (Coffee And Breakfast Burritos At Rosas with men from the Ezekiel Class, the first Monday of each month.)

93.  When a friend was explaining to me why her husband was walking to the car without her, she said, “We aren’t like you and Cyndi, joined at the hip.” (Cyndi and I liked that description of us. That’s who we want to be.)

94.  Bill Britt with Integrity Massage – he keeps me moving

95.  Having lunch and renewing an important and enriching friendship, in Granbury, with Glen and Kristie Hackler.

96.  Book: 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, Felice Cohen

97.  Replacing the battery in my Dell XPS 13” laptop. Using my ultra tiny screw driver to open the case, change the battery, and close the case, felt very Jason Bourne-ish.

98.  Mailing my books to Amazon. It means someone somewhere is buying them and (I hope) reading them.

99.  My 50th high school reunion in Hobbs, New Mexico. This turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected.

100.        Base Camp Gathering (men’s retreat) in Buena Vista, Colorado, with my Noble Heart friends. There is a depth among these brothers that I need.

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

Going Social

      It’s possible I’m about to become a social butterfly after all these years.

      This morning after Iron Men and Gentle Yoga class – which, by the way, makes Thursdays my most sociable morning of each week (I talk to at least thirty people in the span of five hours) – I sat in my favorite booth and read from A. J. Swoboda’s book, The Dusty Ones.

      He wrote about a time when he drove to the bank, parked, walked up to the ATM to make some deposits and get cash, walked across the street to the grocery store to get dinner, went through the self-checkout line, and got back into his car. Swoboda wrote, “I sat down in my seat and realized that I had managed to make a deposit at the bank, get cash, buy groceries, and get back into my car not having to talk to one single person.” Feeling as though God wanted him to change the way he used both the bank and the store; he decided to stop using the self-checkout line or the ATM. “Neither of them forces me to look someone in the eye and see the face of God, the imago Dei.”

      Once again, I read someone else’s story and realized he was actually telling my own. Now that I’m apparently and mostly retired, I must make extra effort to be around people, be face-to-face with people, and to speak to people. I can easily go all day without talking to anyone. In the end it feels like a successful day.

      But is that how I want to live? Is that how I should live? After reading Swoboda, I wasn’t so sure.

      It reminded me of my experience during the spring of 2020 when the world shut down due to Covid-19. For me, working from home under quarantine was easy. My friend, Sam, wrote to me: “Your quarantine sounds like heaven to me.” He was correct. I’m one of those people who is not only content being alone most of the time, but who go out of their way to ensure solitude.

      But this morning’s Iron Men discussion caused me to reconsider the importance of personal relationships. For all my talk of solitude, I cherish close friends and companions. I can’t function intelligently or creatively all by myself. I need back-and-forth exchanges, to bounce ideas, ask questions, or tell stories to friends.

      So, this morning, after reading from The Dusty Ones, I left my favorite booth and went to the grocery store to buy accessories for dinner. Like A. J. Swoboda, I enjoy using self-checkout because it’s faster and more efficient.

      Except, today, for the first time in about five years, I walked past the self-checkout corral and got in the Express 15-Items-Or-Less Line. (I know it should be 15 Items or Fewer, not Less, but I’ll leave that battle for another day.) I was very proud of myself for choosing to stand in line, and I prepared for eye-to-eye contact and friendly banter.

      But wouldn’t you know it. The customer in front of me had thirty-five items (yes, I counted them) and used five coupons. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was trying to do the right thing and be neighborly and personal, and now I’m in line behind someone who couldn’t care less about social norms. It occurred to me that God was putting my new plan to the test, to see if I was really committed to change.

      Well, feeling convicted, I waited patiently. And so did the young checker-outer. She was unperturbed by the conscious breach of the 15-Item rule; she smiled and did her job. When it was my turn, with my seven items, we both smiled and exchanged our “Thank you and have a great day” conversation. I felt good about my personal contact. Maybe this experiment will stick.

      I can’t promise to never use the self-checkout again. It’s too convenient, and sometimes I’m in a hurry, and sometimes I forget my good intentions and follow long-established habit patterns. But I’m planning to try to make more eye contact and exchange personal conversations going forward.

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

Four Milestones

      How do you celebrate personal anniversaries? Do you include everyone for a giant blowout, or do you prefer quiet personal affairs?

      I was out walking one morning a couple of weeks ago when I reminded myself of four looming milestones arriving in my life. I named them “10-20-40-70” so I would remember them when I got home. I wanted to celebrate them all. I hoped they were lead-ins to more and greater milestones in my future.

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      I’ve been reading a book by Robert Wolgemuth titled Gun Lap, about how we should live the last lap of our life.

      The gun lap, the final sprint of a track race, is often signaled by firing a starter’s pistol as the race leader begins the lap. It’s easy for distance runners to lose track of how many laps they’ve run, so the sound of the gun reminds them the race is almost over and it’s time to speed up and finish well.

      The author quoted J. I. Packer, who wrote: “My contention is that … we should aim to be found running the last lap of the race of our Christian life, as we should say, flat out. The final sprint, so I urge, should be a sprint indeed.”

      Our final lap doesn’t have to mean life is almost over. My first marathon, the Golden Yucca, was three 8.7-mile loops, so the last loop, the gun lap, was 8.7 miles long, or 1/3 of the total distance. I don’t know if the race director fired a gun when the leader passed since I was at least an hour behind him, but extrapolating that extra-long lap to my remaining years, if I plan to live to 100, 1/3 will be 33 years. I started my gun lap last year when I turned 67.

      Robert Wolgemuth said one of the questions that haunts men and women entering their gun laps is, “Are there goals still to be attained?” I wrote in the margin of my book: I hope so. I hope I’m still setting new goals every year.

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      Here are some thoughts from my morning walk about those milestones. I’d love here your ideas.

      Ten: Next year will be my 10th year anniversary with after-market knees. I’ve hiked twice on them above 12,000’, skied on them, cycled with them, and walked hundreds of miles with them (including 100K in six days on the Camino in Spain). They’ve served me well, and I want to celebrate them. What if I took a hike on Truches or Wheeler or go on a weeklong backpacking trip? I feel like it should be something physical since these knees gave me a second life.

      Twenty: 2024 is our 20th year of Iron Men. How should we celebrate? How should we reinforce the friendships we’ve made and lessons we’ve learned together?

      Forty: Sometime in late summer or fall of 2025 I should cross the 40,000-mile threshold of total miles run (or walked) since I started in June 1978. How should I celebrate? Should I enter a big race – a half-marathon or a marathon? Or take a personal approach and ask people to join me as I walk the 40,000th mile around the ponds in my neighborhood. Since 95% of my miles have been travelled alone, it might be time to ask for company. We could go eat pizza afterward like the old days in the Permian Basin Road Runners Club.

      Seventy: In June 2026 I’ll turn seventy years old. I have more time to think about this milestone, but the basic question is the same – how should I celebrate? Is there a traditional celebration for turning seventy? Do I really care about something traditional?

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      My list of 100 Life Goals still has plenty that remain unaccomplished. Maybe I should take advantage of these milestones to cross a few off my list. Many of them are long-term goals, and others involve travel and family, but I have a few physical goals remaining, such as: weigh 175 lbs.; bench press 250 lbs.; and do my age in sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups. Should I work these into my 10-20-40-70 adventure? Are they even doable at my age?

      I suppose I will have a shot at 175 lbs. if I simply stop eating, but it hasn’t worked for me so far. I haven’t weighted as little as 175 since junior high. It isn’t so easy or I’d’ve already accomplished it.

      I doubt I’m willing to put in the effort to bench 250 lbs., assuming it would even be possible. I would probably need to hire a coach or a trainer to bag this one.

      And while I can do my age in sit-ups today, it’s been years since I could do my age in push-ups. Even worse, I’ve never been able to do my age in pull-ups - it's hard to imagine doing that now.

      However, to quote Seth Godin, “So far and not yet are the foundation of every successful journey.” Maybe it’s too soon to start ruling out Life Goals without first giving them a serious try.

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      There’s a saying that a man walking through a cotton field doesn’t come out wearing a suit of clothes. Few significant things happen on their own.

      In my life, good things are more likely to happen if I plan ahead, so I’m working through options to celebrate each one of these milestones. I welcome any suggestions you may have for me. What do you think I should do?

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

Worship in any Language

I didn’t expect Sunday morning to be so emotional for me. I was especially surprised by the giant tears rolling down my cheeks before the worship service even began. Three women were singing to a backing track to Jesus Messiah, by Chris Tomlin. They were warming up for the service, which would begin in about thirty minutes. Our band had already set up, and warmed up, and we were sitting in our designated seats in the first two rows, patiently waiting. That’s when I was ambushed by the music.

I’ve heard this song many times, and played the orchestra part, so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. But hearing these women sing it in Italian caught me off guard.

Not because Italian is such an expressive and romantic language, which it is, but because it wasn’t English. It wasn’t the language I’m used to.

I get so lost in my own teaching and my own writing and my own reading and study, I forget God does Italian, too. And Hungarian. And Spanish. And Hebrew.

Later, during the actual worship service, the power of those Italian praise songs (that I assumed were English-only praise songs) hit me again. It was a straight shot to my heart. They sang “Che nome potent el” (What a Beautiful Name, by Ben Fielding and Brooke Ligertwood).

Once again, God have me a peek into how big He is, how unhindered by language He is. How geographically unbound He is.

God is so much more. So much bigger

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Cyndi and I are in Casoria, Italy, very near Naples. We are here with the Global Missions Project’s Metro Big Band, where we’ll play in several churches and a couple of bars. This is our fourth trip with this group; it’s a ministry we love, and we love to be part of. And one of the reasons we like doing this is because we’ve seen God use music in mighty ways to pierce hearts and open minds.

I just didn’t expect the pierced heart and opened mind to belong to me.

On The Road Again

      When people learn I’m a cyclist their first question usually is: “Do you feel safe riding in Midland traffic?”

      My usual answer is: “Safe enough. I’m careful when choosing my routes. And besides, every crash I’ve had has been my own fault. I can’t blame any of them on traffic.”

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      So, Tuesday, September 17th, I had a bike crash while turning north from Valley Quail Road onto Scaled Quail Road, in the new neighborhood north of Midland Classical Academy. Even though I saw a very small bit of standing water in the intersection and slowed down accordingly, my back wheel slid out and I hit the pavement. Straight down, no sliding, no road rash. It was a turn I’ve made hundreds of times, always carefully, because there is often standing water.

      After I untangled from my bike and stood up, I noticed immediately I had chipped at least one tooth (it turned out to be two). Since my bike still worked and I felt OK, I decided to ride back home. Until I looked down at my right knee. It had a large and deep gash running crossways across my kneecap. I knew I shouldn’t try to ride home on that. Even though it didn’t hurt, pedaling with it might worsen the situation, and the blood running down my leg would freak out the carpool drivers lined up in front of MCA.

      I reached for my cell phone to call Cyndi while pushing my bike to a nearby intersection, at Fairfield and Mayfield, where I thought it would be easier for her to find me. As I made my phone call, a young boy walking home from school was standing in the street staring at my knee. His friends, probably both older sisters, yelled for him to get on home, but he stood staring. Finally he took off running down the street.

      Cyndi pulled up and we loaded my bike into the back of her car. As I walked around to get in the passenger seat, I noticed the boy was back, with the two girls. They were all standing in the middle of the street staring open-mouthed at my gashed and bleeding knee.

      “Is he going to be alright?”

      Cyndi said, “We’re going to take care of him right now.” And of course, she did. On the way to Vital Care clinic, Cyndi phoned our dentist and made an appointment to have my chipped teeth repaired.

      At the clinic, several PAs examined my knee. “How fast were you going?”

      “I don’t remember. Does it really matter?”

      “If you were going faster than 25 mph, it would change the treatment protocol.”

      “Only in my dreams. I’m sure I was turning the corner at less than 10.”

      “I can stitch that up for you, but since you have an artificial knee, you should go to an emergency clinic. They can do more to prevent infection.”

      Cyndi drove me to SignatureCare Emergency Clinic. They took me back to an examining room where a nurse cleaned my leg. “What is your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

      “At most, two.”

      Dr. Marks squirted something called numbing agent into the wound. It was intense. It turned out to be the only actual pain I had during the entire event. “Sorry, it usually stings a bit before it starts numbing.”

      “No kidding,” I said while gripping the sides of the examining bed and clenching my chipped teeth.

      They took a CT Scan of my head to see if I had a concussion. I had several scrapes on my face which worried them more than they worried me. Of course, I couldn’t see the scrapes. Fortunately, the scan didn’t show any damage. Still, it’s always risky having your head examined. Who knows what they might find.

      Then they X-rayed my knee to see if anything was broken or out of place, but they didn’t find anything.

      Back in the examining room they irrigated the gash and Dr. Marks stitched it up while I watched. She did a great job, and I felt no pain at all.

      And now, five days later, I’ve had my teeth repaired (sooner than expected) and I’ve had no swelling or stiffness or pain. The emergency clinic staff expected my face and my knee to be sore and swollen, but they aren’t. Neither one. I can walk on my leg, even around the park across the street. My right knee feels a little stiff, but mostly from the bandage rather than from the stitches.

      Cyndi took care of me, of course. She’s been very patient with my recovery and my talk of riding again. I’m lucky to have her on my side. In fact, Cyndi did more than simply rescue me and drive me around town. She helped me make expensive decisions at the emergency clinic and the dentist’s office when I clearly wasn’t at my best. Not only that, but she patiently smiles when I tell my crash story over and over. 

      My plan is to take my bike into the shop for a check-up to make sure it’s OK, and replace my helmet since I clearly collided with the ground. I won’t ride again until my stitches are removed, but after that I’ll be back training for the RIDE TO END ALZ fundraiser in Wimberly in November with my brother, Carroll. I don’t want to miss that.

      If you would like to know more about the RIDE TO END ALZ or make a contribution to either my ride or Carroll’s ride, just follow these links. We’ll be grateful for your participation. We lost our mother to Alzheimer’s, and we’re proud to ride in her honor.

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

Money For Nothing?

      Yesterday I heard a radio story on BBC about Strava Mules. (Strava is a phone app that tracks your running and cycling with GPS, and allows you to share with, compete with, and track (audit) your friends.) According to the BBC, a Strava Mule is someone who carries a phone belonging to another person so they can record a run or ride and the phone’s owner gets credit. It's a way to get bragging rights without having to put out the effort.

      I could loan my phone to some young flatbelly cyclist and send the data to my brother and tell him it was me, but I doubt he would be impressed. He’s too smart. He’d know right away it was too fast to be me.

      Why would someone do that, I wondered. Not – why would they carry someone else’s phone – but – why would they want someone else to run for them? What’s the point of being a runner or cyclist if you don’t do your own miles?

      Is this so they can convince their friends they’re much faster than they really are? As in, did you notice my blistering pace last week?

      Are they motivated the same as people who buy likes on social media, going for image over substance?

      Are they looking for an alibi? As in – “I couldn’t have robbed the bank,” or “cheated on my spouse” – I was running, and here is data to prove it. Their Strava Mule could send texts and take photos during the run for even more evidence.

      The BBC said Mules in London charge forty pence per mile to complete a marathon. That would be about fifty cents per mile in the USA, or $13 for an entire marathon. I can’t imagine someone running an entire marathon just to earn $13, but if they’d planned to run the marathon anyway, why not earn back some of their entry fee? They could carry a dozen phones in their fanny pack to not only cover their own entry fee but make a profit.

      I mentioned my new discovery to Cyndi, telling her I finally discovered a way to monetize my daily runs.

      “Are you still running?”

      “Well, no. Nowadays I walk.”

      “And do you go out walking daily?”

      “Not exactly. Mostly. But that’s not my point. Had I been a Strava Mule from the very beginning of my running career, I could have earned as much as $19,000 by now. Assuming both Strava and cell phones existed in 1978 when I started. And that doesn’t include the money I could’ve earned from cycling miles.”

      At that point, one of us might have mentioned that all of my miles since 1978 have been too slow for anyone to want recorded on their Strava database. But then it occurred to me that endurance athletes are supposed to take rest days, or at least low intensity days, to let their body recover from all those workouts. Most don’t want to take days off and most don’t. It feels counterproductive even when we know it helps, even when a coach insists that we do it.

      So maybe I could be their Strava Mule for those rest days and they could show the data to their coach, “Here, see how slow I was going, very low intensity.” Then they’d get credit for following the coach’s orders all while really running another speed workout on the sly.

      I realize recording slow data is a niche market, at best, but if anyone out there who might be reading this is interested, let me know. I’m available to record some low intensity miles for you. Fifty cents per mile, one dollar minimum.

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

Stronger Every Day

      Last Friday night, Cyndi and I (and our daughter, Katie, and great friends the Bewleys and the Freemans) went to a concert at Dickie’s Arena in Ft. Worth, to see Chicago with Earth Wind & Fire. Two of the best horn bands ever; together they have sold a combined 190 million albums.

      The entire coliseum was full of people that looked like us – Baby Boomers in our 60s. Which means, we tended to stay seated the entire time. That is, until EW&F started playing Boogie Wonderland. AT that point the entire coliseum became a giant disco and all across the arena people leaped to their feet and threw their arms in the air and danced.

      My favorite Chicago songs are the complex horn features from the 1960s and 1970s. These are the songs that pulled me into the fold in 1971 and have kept me there ever since then. But I have to admit, I loved hearing the entire arena singing along to the 1980s power ballads (the ones I usually dismiss) as in, Hard to Say I’m Sorry, and If You Leave Me Now.

      To my surprise they waited until the concert was almost over before performing one of the most significant songs in my life, Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is. A song they usually play early in the evening, this time they held it until the third set when both bands were on stage together playing with full joy and energy. I was already standing at that point (not a simple decision since our seats were so high and rows so precipitously steep) and I finished the song with both arms raised high in praise.

      Why would I do that?

      I’ll tell you why.

      I love that song. Not because of the lyrics or the melody are so important, but the circumstances.

      I first heard it on the radio in the summer of 1971, long before I owned any Chicago albums, and it was because of what I heard that afternoon that I decided to keep playing my trombone and stay in high school band.

      And because I stayed in band, I met Cyndi Richardson in the band hall two years later, in August 1973. And because I kept playing my horn I went to a jazz concert in Denton in the fall of 1976 where Cyndi and I rediscovered each other.

      We got married in July 1979; we recently celebrated our 45th anniversary. I don’t believe in fate, as in, Cyndi and I were destined to be together. I do believe strongly that God has a plan for all of us, but I also see a lot of randomness and happenstance when I look back through our timeline. Using my best imagination I can’t think of how we would have met, or be together today, had it not been for that song.

      Cyndi played percussion when we met in that band hall, and since then we’ve played together in church orchestras and jazz bands our entire adult lives. It’s one of our deepest common elements and inhabits most of our conversations. Playing music together is a deep root that binds us together. Not only that, but all those years of playing have given us some of our closest friends. We’ve been blessed to be surrounded by fellow musicians; it makes us happy.

      Well, when the concert ended, after 3-1/2 hours of high-energy music, there was no encore. Everyone was exhausted. Even the crowd knew both bands had played their hearts out serving us the best of their songs. I was loving every minute, but I was also ready to go. My right arm was tired from playing air trombone for so long.

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      Here’s the thing: I’m not really writing about Chicago; I’m writing about the power of music. I’m writing about how some things latch on to your soul so that you wallow in it for decades. Maybe for you it was soccer, or dance, or math, or mountains, or the beach. For me it was music, and Chicago made it happen.

      I typically write about God, running, cycling, backpacking, spiritual growth, family, music, and loving Cyndi. And the truth is, I can’t separate those topics. They are woven together, and I don’t care to cut them apart.

      I went to the Friday concert, not just to hear the same songs I can listen to any time I want, but to reinforce a 53-year-old life-changing experience that still influences me every day. Music is one of our tightest family ties. Music is one of my deepest spiritual truths. I don’t want to let that slip away.

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

An Unambiguous Statement

       Have I ever made a definitive statement with my actions, something that was possibly unexpected yet unambiguous? I don’t think so.

       I just read in Acts 9 about the time the Apostle Paul was baptized, following his encounter with God on the road to Damascus. It was a definitive statement declaring, “What I was in the past, I’m not that now, and not that going forward. My life has permanently changed.” (I was seven years old when I was baptized. I didn’t have a lot of past to put behind.)

       Cyndi and I spent the past two weeks watching the Paris Olympics, which is a year’s worth of TV for us. So far we’ve watched dozens of sports, most of them we see only every four years. And much to my surprise, one of the scenes I found most moving happened in wrestling.

       Cuban athlete, Mijaín López, 41 years old with five Olympic gold medals in Greco-Roman Wrestling, followed up his gold-medal match by taking off his shoes and leaving them in the middle of the mat, telling the world he was retired from competition.

       López might be the most dominant Olympian of all time. He is a giant of a man, 6-foot-5, 290 pounds, and has dedicated his life to overpowering some of the strongest men on the planet.

       Mijaín López became the first person ever to win gold in the same individual Olympic event five times (2008 Beijing, 2012 London, 2016 Rio de Janeiro, 2020 Tokyo, and 2024 Paris). The remarkable streak of medals is just the beginning of his legend. Forget losing a match or settling for silver—entering the Paris Games, it had been more than a decade since he’d so much as given up a single point at the Olympics.

       “It’s like wrestling with a rock,” said retired Lithuanian wrestler Mindaugas Mizgaitis, “who is moving.”

       After clinching his historic fifth gold, López celebrated by running back-and-forth across the arena, hoisted his coaches in the air, and pumped his fists in the air. Then he walked by himself onto the mat, removed his shoes and left them in the middle of the mat, the international symbol of a wrestler’s retirement. He left them on the mat, and walked away.

       Mijaín López’s five gold medals were definitive enough, but announcing his retirement - which I’m sure came as a relief to other wrestlers – with no speeches or press releases, by leaving his shoes, was bigger than life.

       It's way too late in life for me to take up wrestling, but I long for definitive moments like this. I dream of an unambiguous life.

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

You Send Me

      Cyndi and I married on July 28, 1979, so this summer is our 45th anniversary. A few years ago I realized one way to celebrate was to spread love around, give love away. We feel fortunate and blessed to have each other, and we want to share that with people close to us.

      Falling in love often feels like an accident, but staying in love is a learned response, maybe even a spiritual practice. Staying in love is an act of will, intentional and specific. We all must find our own methods and practices to keep love fresh and alive.

      One of my practices is listening to love songs. I’m drawn to love songs on the assumption that they were all written about Cyndi and me. I don’t always agree with every lyric, motivation, or lifestyle of the composer or performer; I just want to enjoy the song and appreciate the fact they wrote it just for us.

      Music is a deep root for Cyndi and me. We first met in a high school band hall in 1973 in Hobbs, NM – I played trombone, Cyndi played percussion. We rediscovered each other and started falling in love at a North Texas State University One O’clock Jazz Band concert featuring Bill Watrous, in Denton, TX, in 1976. We’ve been playing music together ever since – in our church orchestra, in the Midland College Jazz Band, and on several mission trips with Global Missions Project. It’s impossible for us to separate love from music.

      The Bible says we have eternity in our hearts. I believe that refers to our capacity and longing for transcendence; our need to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Surely music is part of that … as if God said, "Here take this, you’ll like it, it’s some of my best stuff.”

      In 2007, as a project for Iron Men, I collected my favorite love songs into playlists and gave them away. This is my 18th list. I initially made CDs and gave them away, but starting in 2020 I just created playlists. Mostly because, it was pointed out to me, few people had CD players anymore. (I can and will burn a physical CD for anyone who wants one. It’s more satisfying to give away something tangible.)

      To find my playlists (I have them all, back to 2007), follow this link to Spotify, or this link to my webpage. It will make me happy if you listen to them and let me know which are your favorites. I hope at least one of them will soften your heart and push you toward your own true love.

      Also, I need your suggestions and recommendations for next year’s list. My ears are always open for love songs.

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Got To Get You Into My Life, Blood Sweat & Tears, 1975 … I used the Earth Wind and Fire version in my 2016 edition. Both versions are better than the Beatles’ original.

Know That I Know, Lake Street Dive, 2021 … How can I NOT use lyrics like these: We're like baseball and hotdogs; You're Ferris Bueller, and I'm your day off; The E Street Band and the Boss; You know you're my happy clouds, and I'm Bob Ross.

Slow Dance, The Lighter Side & Cody Carnes, 2012 … to be honest, I couldn’t find anything about The Lighter Side. However, Cody Carnes is married to Kari Jobe, and writes songs for almost everyone in CCM.

Just Remember I Love You, Firefall, 1977 … With my 50th high school reunion approaching I’ve been channeling the 1970s. And besides, we too often forget how powerful it is to know, Just remember, I love you, and it’ll be alright.

Night And Day, Diana Krall, 2017 …I like the lyric, under the hide of me, similar to another song, I‘ve got you under my skin.

How Would You Feel, Ed Sheeran, 2017 … The song asks, How would you feel; If I told you I loved you? The first time I told Cyndi I loved her, we were sitting on the grass at the Lea County Park in Lovington, NM, probably in August 1978. I should have told her months sooner.

Anchin Kfu Ayinkash, Hailu Mergia & Dahlak Band, 2016 … This song makes me smile. It was originally released in Ethiopia on cassette in 1977, and rereleased digitally in 2016. The title, Anchin Kfu Ayinkash, loosely translates to: 'may the lord keep you from harm'. In 1977, during the military dictatorship in Ethiopia, if you had words in your music, they had to praise the government; instrumental music was a subtle act of protest.

Let’s Dance, Chris Rea, 2007 … One of the biggest surprises of my adult life is that, because of Cyndi, I enjoy dancing. And Cyndi always wants to dance with me in spite of the fact I can’t dance without overthinking and counting beats.

Made My Heart A Home, High Dive Heart, 2024 … People often ask, “Where is your home?” and my standard answer is, “Wherever Cyndi is.” For me, home is relationship rather than geography.

You Brought A New Kind Of Love To Me, Frank Sinatra, 1956 … I like the fact that what was once new is now normal life.

Love at First Site, Jordan Mackampa, 2020 … Didn't know that I was looking; It took me by surprise. I had no idea what was coming when I went to the NTSU jazz concert.

Maybe So Maybe No, Mayer Hawthorne, 2009 … Could it be that your love was meant for me?
Maybe so, maybe no. Cyndi and I have wondered whether falling in love was destiny, but we no longer really care. Here we are, and I am a happy man.

Then Came You, The Spinners & Dionne Warwick, 1974 … Once again, channeling my high school days. I never knew love before, then came you.

Quite the View, Luca, 2018 … You make me smile it's what you do; I'm looking in your eyes, it's quite the view. That’s a nice lyric. Brilliant.

Three, Cameron Ernst, 2013 … 'Cause when it's a trio, you can't defeat 'em; One, two, three, you and me and some L-O-V-E; Together we could be the true story of how all good things come in threes.

You Send Me, Sam Cooke, 1957… This song makes Cyndi come looking for me, to dance.

You Are My Person, Kyle Andrews, 2021 … Hey, let's go, walking on the sidewalk; I'll listen to you talk whenever you want. One of my favorite times nowadays are our morning walks around the neighborhood pond.

I Am Always Gonna Love You, Jon McLaughlin, 2015 … I'm never gonna go away.

Give Me That Feeling, L.A.B., 2024 (a New Zealand reggae band formed in 2016.) … Without you here, I just can't carry it all.

Extraordinary Magic, Ben Rector, 2018 … Out of thin air, you appeared in my life; Like a burst of Technicolor in a world of black and white. Cyndi may have had a plan to put us together back in 1976, she was always ahead of me, so you’ll have to ask her, but falling in love was a big surprise to me.

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

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Rituals of Love

How about you? What rituals make up your life?

This morning, Cyndi and I woke up together after two snoozes on the alarm, and we immediately made the bed. It’s something we seldom fail to do no matter how busy our morning is. I think we’ve made the bed every morning since we first got married. We even make the bed when we know our housekeeper will come and change the sheets later in the day. We’ve been known to do it when staying in a hotel room. It seems important to maintain the practice.

Occasionally, like last Friday when we get up at the same time, we make the bed together, one on each side of the bed. That is the exception, however. Mostly one of us does it by ourselves, whoever gets out of bed last.

I doubt I ever made my bed when I was a young boy. I don’t remember even noticing, much less caring about it. It became a habit for me, and also for Cyndi, when we lived in our dorm rooms in college. All of life happened inside that small, cramped space, and a messed-up bed made the space seem even smaller.

The practical reason we make the bed every morning is because it’s so much more pleasant crawling into a made bed at the end of the day than crawling into a mess of sheets and bedspread.

What are the spiritual reasons for making the bed? It’s a small move toward consciously being present, noticing and settling our surroundings. It’s one way to take ourselves seriously and an attempt to shape the day by starting it off with structure and aesthetic.

Lately Cyndi and I have adopted a new wrinkle, so to speak, in our habit of bed maintenance. Whichever one of us goes to bed first, before we climb in, we remove the show pillows and turn down the sheets on the other side to make it easier for the other person. It’s a welcoming gesture. And if Cyndi crawls into bed first, she usually also turns on my reading light.

In his book Soul Salsa, Leonard Sweet wrote about the rituals of our lives that help us “grow our own souls by modulating the mundane into the eternal.”

I showed that quote to Cyndi and asked if she thought we had any rituals. Making the bed was the first thing that occurred to her. We probably had more rituals back when Byron and Katie were younger and lived at home with us. We certainly had a more predictable routine. Nowadays our rituals are mostly about taking care of each other.

Besides making the bed, we thought about this: when either of us leaves the house, we don’t just yell goodbye or leave and expect the other person to know. We find each other and kiss goodbye, even if only making a quick errand run to the grocery store. Maybe one reason is because we are fully aware of the dangers in our world and how something sudden and fatal could happen to either of us, so we want to at least have a last kiss. But I doubt this is the main reason; we aren’t that fearful or fatalistic. I think it has more to do with acknowledging the importance of each of us in the other’s life, of recognizing existence, of saying, “Yes, I see you.”

Or it could be we just like kissing.

I don’t know if the following is a ritual, but I’m crediting it as one: I won’t—that is to say, I can’t—walk past Cyndi, whether in a crowded hallway or an open room, at home or at Rosa’s or at church, without brushing against her, dragging my hand across her back or her bottom. I try to be subtle, and I doubt many outsiders notice it, but I do it every time. Why? I’m touching base, tagging up, reminding her I’m close and, even more, that I notice her. I’m saying: I see you, and I’m drawn to you, and I’m still hot for you.

Here’s another: we eat at least 99 percent of our home meals in the kitchen, with no distracting TV, even if we’re just eating a quick sandwich. Only occasionally will we eat in front of a movie, or a ballgame, or our laptops; a dozen times a year at most. I’ll admit that some of you who know us are shaking your head and wondering: When are you at home and not eating at Rosa’s or Jason’s. That would be an accurate observation. I don’t think we have any rituals for restaurants.

However, I would add that Cyndi and I pray before meals, whether in public or at home, a practice both of us learned from our families, and it is definitely a sacred ritual. It’s a pause to recognize God as Lord of our lives and giver of all things, and to acknowledge we have been blessed.

Sometimes when we are eating with other people who don’t have the same praying ritual, we will look at each other and let it pass. It isn’t our desire to make our companions feel awkward or uncomfortable. But just last week we were having dinner with a friend in San Angelo, and she wouldn’t let us pass. She said, “Oh, you two always like to ask a blessing for food, don’t you,” as she grabbed our hands.

Sweet wrote, “The challenge of discipleship is to make one’s own life a sacrament, a sign of love and grace, a sacred gesture inserted in a world flaunting other gestures.” I believe our small gestures are indeed spiritual practices, disciplines we stick to so our hearts stay soft toward each other and toward God.

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This is an excerpt from my book, Practicing Faith, published in 2020. Cyndi and I will celebrate our 45th anniversary this July 28th.

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

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