Buzzard, Moon, and Miles

A lone buzzard, charcoal and black with a variegated white stripe, soars majestically in lazy circles, quartering the azure sky. At one point he hangs between the budding Party Tree and a the half moon-- the only other object in a cloudless sky-- in perfect balance between the heavens and Earth.

It's a beautiful day. My heart overflows with wonder and joy. I am content, in a most intense way.

Joel & Cheryl Davis - They're Just Somebody That You Ought To Know!

Every now and then I'm going to highlight some people I really admire, probably people I know, people who really make a difference in the world around them. I will try not to gush but make no promises.

I'd heard of Joel & Cheryl Davis for a year or two before I really met them. I'd seen them; we had even interacted a little. But in that sense, I meet a lot of people-- some whom I still don't know, some I haven't seen since.

While we'd been involved with teenagers and some college age people, mostly in the Round Rock area, they'd been involved with Baylor students. I think some weekends they had 10% of Baylor in their home. My kind of people.

The Davises got caught up in the same whirlwind I was caught in, hanging around Bill & Traci Vanderbush. While our paths into ministry, into playing parent to far more young people than we could possibly have conceived or birthed in a lifetime, and in hanging out with the Vanderbi were very different, there we were. In Houston. At a conference. In the most delicious, God set up ambush sort of trial by fire, getting to love on and bless a thousand people or more. Representing not just Bill, but world famous ministers and God. Along with the rest of us on the team, Joel and Cheryl took deep breaths, grinned, and dove into the deep end.

A few months later, same scenario, we were in Batson, Texas (motto: "If you can find us, we'll give you some doggone good pie!") doing the same thing. Only this time it was for dozens. The thing I loved about them the most that weekend was that they had the same level of enthusiasm and passion for the dozens as they had for the thousand plus.

Cheryl's a serious extrovert, and the more obvious "minister". Joel's much quieter, often looking at things with a businessman's eye, not to get rich off anyone, but seeking ways to truly improve things for people. He's happy to let Cheryl be in the limelight and stay in the background most of the time, but they're both powerful, joyous, loving people. They're a potent team. They're as happy down in the mud with Romas who've just had what little they had taken away as with a country's national level leaders. You can sometimes find them in both position in the same day.

They fell in love with a country most Americans haven't heard of except in movies or the Harry Potter books, Albania. For most of us, it's a myth or it's a scary place (Think the thugs in Taken or Lord Voldemort's recovery room). In reality it's a beautiful flower on the Mediterranean, snuggled between Greece and Italy, a country recovering in uncertain times from communism and dictatorship, one of God's own jewels, hidden away for now.

After one of their trips there, Cheryl mentioned something about it to to me, and I had a vision (I've described it elsewhere). I knew I had to go. Albania was calling me.

That June, I went. The Davis's idea of a mission trip was unlike anything I'd heard of. While there were things that were scheduled, there was plenty of time for fun and to just do what you felt led to do. And we were always up for ministry, at castles, restaurants, the beach. Nowhere was off limits. One day some of us went to a park and played music and sang and just loved on and shared with and prayed for the people who showed up. We went to several beaches. We worked closely with Genti, pastor of Ray of Light Church in Tirana. On the way to or from a planned event or something else, we might stop a half dozen times to hug people, pray for them, bless them, etc. When we worked with the Albanians, it was their show; we were there to support them, not take over and tell them how to do it.

Cheryl and Joel people are gold miners. When they look at you, they want to see what God sees. They look for the gold-- the good, the beautiful, the precious, the lasting things. They dig lovingly for this gold, to bring it to the surface. "Look. This is what and who you are. Not all the other stuff. This."

I felt out of sorts after a few days in Albania. I really wanted to contribute, to make a difference. I know my gifts. I know who I am, what I'm good at, what I'm called to. And I was trying really hard to do those things... and getting nowhere. I felt pointless. Few things have bugged me more.

When I brought this all up, Cheryl and Joel (and Melody Carson!) immediately saw the problem. "Quit trying so hard. You don't have to do anything. Just do what you do best, be. Be you, be Miles. That's the best thing you can do for Albania." This is the sort of thing I'd told lots of people, especially young people, over the years. And as always happens, it came home to roost.

They were right, of course. It transformed not just the rest of the trip, but my life. I made ten times more connections, and ministered to ten times more people, the second half of the trip. All because I quit trying to do anything. I was just me. "God doesn't make mistakes." How many time had I said that to people to encourage them to just be themselves... Now I was living it more than ever.

I've watched them do this sort of thing over and over and over.

Another huge thing was when I realized that the vision I had as a result of the vision Cheryl first shared with me was not the same vision she had, there was no problem. I support theirs, they support mine. Instead of competing, we look for what glorifies God, what will bless Albania. We work together. Far too many times I've seen this disintegrate relationships, when one or both parties feels they have to be "the right one".

I pray each and every one of you has a Joel and Cheryl in your life. And that you are, or become, such a person to others. If you don't think that's possible, maybe it's time to find out who you really are and just be you. Quit trying so hard to do stuff, or even to be somebody, whether that's someone else or yourself. Just do it. Just be.

And if you're having a hard time with that, I know who you can talk to.

And When I Die... When I'm Dead, Dead and Gone

I've meant to write this up for a while. Thanks to Caryn Werner for inspiring me to just do it!

Most funerals annoy me. Funerals are supposed to be for the living, but so many are depressing. I'm not saying everyone needs to have a funeral like I want mine to be... well, maybe I am!

I think the Irish (among others) were on the right track with a wake, a party. Not getting drunk, per se, but just having a party, celebrating the good times, the memories, the things that mattered about a person. Laughing at their foibles. Stuff like that.

Rather than focusing on the fact they're physically gone, focus on who they were and what they meant-- and mean to you. Let them live in, with, and through you!

I need to update the list of what I want at my funeral. Sharon knows some things, but the details change.

1. No black, unless you're really old or a goth or something. Everyone else wearing dark or boring clothes gets handed a bright tee shirt at the door they have to wear over their other clothes. Best to wear tie dye, Hawaiian shirts, etc. Bathing suits are fine. For all I care, show up in your birthday suit, but that might be more hassle than it's worth; this is an all ages event.
2. If you walk around with a sad face, prepare to get hugged, tickled, pranked, or told funny stuff.
3. Everyone should leave with something of mine that means something to them. There is to be no actual fighting over things like the Darth Vader Mr Potato Head, but if multiple people want something contests are encouraged. This can be anything from a game of cards to a backward skipping race to a duel with fun noodles (impartial judges shall decide the victor, or an objective rule such as whoever's noodle is biggest after a one minute match shall apply). All parties must agree to the terms beforehand.
4. Everyone has to play spoons, the Mad Magazine board game, or something else fun and rowdy, for at least 15 minutes. Farting contests count.
5. There will be music, and it will be neither solemn nor sad. Sharon has input on the music, but I don't want more than two classic hymns. Petra's _Graverobber_ must be played. There should be at least one live band or singer/guitarist, etc... the more the merrier.
6. Unless forbidden by law (and maybe even then) there must be fireworks.
7. Food! Including Chuys. And good coffee. And desserts.
8. Side parties at a shooting range are encouraged.
9. A bonfire really wants to participate.
10. Hugs. Everyone gets lots and lots of hugs.
11. Crying and laughing are both encouraged.
12. Share your stories!

Ideally, there would be a life size cutout of me somewhere, thumbing my nose at Microsoft, big government, and bad food.

I would prefer to be cremated since the state frowns on using human remains to fertilize the flowers. Preferably in a cheap pine box. Spare no expense-- but not for my dead flesh. Go as cheaply as possible there, and spend the money on those who need it. Some of it should go to Albania.

Afterward, everyone should go hug 6th Street, Albania, Muslims, someone who needs it.

If you must have a memorial, it should have a roadkill symbol.

God willing, this is a long ways off (I fully expect to see you all at my 111th birthday party under the Party Tree!), but I think you ought to know what to expect.