lee’s wreck: video & photos

It is late and I am sore and tired.

I probably should be in bed but I would lay in bed feeling guilty if I didn’t live up to my promise to post more about the accident today.

Tomorrow I will post on the full story of the accident, until then I wanted to put up a few photos and a video we took today at the junk yard:

"thanks for keeping my daddy alive, mr. jeep"

this is where the volvo hit me, causing me to fishtail and go into a roll

i stayed firmly in the driver's seat until the Jeep settled on the passenger side at the end of the roll. then I just stepped down onto the ground and walked away through the opening where the Jeep top used to be (it was basically scraped back by the pavement)

my jeep was a faithful friend from the day I got it as a high school graduation gift until the day it kept me from dying on country club lane. a good friend, indeed.

this could have easily been my head.

. . . . . .

Okay, I am pooped.

More details on what happened, exactly, will be posted tomorrow.

And, maybe if you ask her nicely, Beth may post some of her thoughts about this whole ordeal (I love it when Beth writes).

close call: lee wrecks the jeep

Quite the exciting day we had today!

I will post the full story and some photos tomorrow – until then, here is video evidence that the Wilson family (including the recently rolled-over Lee) is still intact:

Special thanks to:

Firestone Tires for making quality tires that kept me on the road surface until I was clear of the school bus.

Beth Wilson for being the greatest wife ever.

In all honesty, I was praying as I drove along and saw the car pull out ahead of me, then the last thing I remember clearly thinking as I swerved to miss the car (and the school bus) was “Oh, Beth!” (in an “Oh, baby, I hope I make it through this for you” kind of way).

The Smith family for feeding and caring for our hastily dropped off daughter as Beth scrambled to the scene of the accident.

Tonie Hooper for fixing the air conditioning – a true hero in this husband and father’s book (for the sake of clarification, I am 100% NOT being sarcastic in this statement, I really mean it).

Ray Van Neste for being the first person I personally knew to appear on the scene of the accident.  I didn’t get a scratch, but Ray cut himself digging through the mess of junk in my mashed up Jeep.

This is a man who is a true pastor, caring for me and watching over me in my somewhat frazzled, not-so-clearheaded attempt to hold it together and figure out what to do after you roll a Jeep 35 yards.  Truly, a good and godly man.

. . . . . . .

All the details to come tomorrow.

spotlight: pastor pitts

Would you like to read the best “first Sunday” story that I have ever heard?

One of my best friends was recently called to serve as the pastor of the First Baptist Church of a small town in East Texas.

His first sermon there was on Easter Sunday – but I will let his wonderful wife and a congregant from his new church tell the rest of the story:

Matt’s first Sunday as the pastor of Small Town Baptist Church was Easter Sunday.

What a start!

Grace and I stayed in DFW (Dallas/Fort Worth) while Matt drove out and back by himself. Little did we know what an exciting morning it would be.

I thought I would share about it, but a sweet lady in our new church e-mailed me a re-cap of the morning. I thought it would be better shared in her words (reprinted with permission).

. . . . .

OH MY GOODNESS! What a memorable first Sunday as pastor of a little country church!Terrible storm that he had to drive through to get here (Braving the elements!)

No power at the church building.

When we got there. . . late because we had to wait on Bev and the kids, the sanctuary was dark, and Danny thought they were having some special candlelight service, when in fact they were having Sunday School in the sanctuary with candles.

HEHE!!

We were walking around the side and into the fellowship hall to take Jake to the nursery and he (Pastor Pitts) said, “why is it so dark,” I told him. . . “honey, the lights are out! The storm took them. Luckily we have flash lights on our key chains! You’ll learn!“

Kelli came to church with her Easter dress on and her Stylin’ rubber boots.

Please check out her facebook page to see the photo I took of she and Janet! Janet said she just came to church with wet hair!

We didn’t have the crowd we were expecting as many stayed home because they had no power. Beryl couldn’t get past the tree across her road!

OK, so now our fearless leader has to have church in a dark sanctuary and preach with all the kids in the room . . .

For the rest of the story, visit the Pitts’ Blog – it is well worth the time it will take to click, load the link, and read.

abbey’s report card: 2 A’s, 1 B.

Yesterday was a big day for little Abbey.

She turned 2 months on Sunday, which meant it was time for her 2 month shots and check up at the pediatricians office.

The shots went just fine – Abbey’s eyes got really big (you could see the white all around the blue of her irises), she turned bright purple, spit out her pacifier, and screamed bloody murder for about 90 seconds.

Then she fell asleep.

Abbey also had her measurements taken and the results were two A’s and a B:

. . . . . .

See, height = 90%; weight = 90%; head circumference = 85%

Or, 2 A’s and 1 B for her 2 month stats.

Translation: Abbey is right on track for her growth patterns, which means that her medicine is working properly and she is developing just like any other little baby with a properly functioning thyroid.

That’s a great report card in the eyes of Daddy and Mama Wilson.

. . . . . .

It was also exciting for her to have her first night sleeping in her crib in her room – a little sad because it was sweet to have her in her bassinet in our bedroom, but exciting because she slept through the night like a champ.

So many new tricks, so many things to be excited about.

chatty abbey

Having a baby is all about the tricks.

Every day you are looking for new tricks, encouraging new tricks, imagining new tricks – all the time waiting to rush into the other room, grab the camera, and document the new trick.

Its a lot like I imagine it must be like to be a skateboarder.

. . . . . .

Recently, Abbey has been working on cultivating her verbal skills, becoming quite chatty:

Chatty Abbey – she’s the best.

spotlight: ‘my child is an inner-city missionary’

In my job I have the opportunity to have a lot of conversations with a ton of college students – actually, my job is to have conversations with college students.

One of the themes that runs through many of these conversations is taking big risks and doing crazy things for the sake of the gospel:

“Go become a Journeyman, live in a African jungle or sleep in a hammock beside the Amazon River for a couple years”

“Move up to Montana for the summer, share the gospel with the environmentalists who moved away from civilization to live off the land and grow marijuana”

“Graduate, get a job in the inner-city, take the gospel to the people who were abandoned when churches exchanged inner-city people for suburban parking space”

“Do it. Go. Be crazy. Take risks. The gospel is worth it.”

Laying everything down for the gospel is a beautiful thing – an unbelievably challenging thing.  It is a thing that brings about many “unintended consequences.”

As a parent of a little girl, I get this.

When Abbey was born I held her in my arms and said, “God, do anything you want with this little girl.  Take her to the other end of the world to tell people about Jesus if you want – just help us to prepare her to make Jesus known wherever she goes.”

Today I came across the story of a mom struggling with her daughter’s decision to move into inner-city Louisville and raise her family there.

Children, parents, take note:

When Lindsay and Jay first began to talk about their desire to move into the inner-city, I was pretty certain it was a phase and would most likely not happen. They were newlyweds, strong believers and I felt they were just caught up in the “latest mission” of their church, Sojourn. I thought it would pass.

My daughter called her dad and I over one Sunday morning to look at the house they were interested in buying. I had seen a few of the houses they had previously considered buying, but much to my relief none of them worked out. This new house was nice and large, but the neighborhood was spotted with vacant and boarded-up homes.

This is where my journey of fear began. I rode down the street in despair thinking how depressing and scary it looked. My daughter was going to be living here on a daily basis. My dreams were for her to have a nice/modest/safe home in a “decent” neighborhood.

They bought their home and over the next year one thing after another went wrong. Now, not only was safety a factor, but it seemed EVERYTHING was wrong with the house – the plumbing was bad, the roof was bad, major appliances died. They did all the right things, but the house was simply the product of a “quick flip” – good enough to pass home inspection but bad enough to be a major problem. (Many of her neighbors seemed to be victims of the same situation with their homes.) I know they constantly endured comments from all sets of parents, stating they would NEVER get their money out of the house. We wondered if they shouldn’t just sell it and move. We didn’t understand the mission: God’s mission.

I began to settle down a bit until I found out that registered sex offenders were housed only a few blocks away. Again, I found myself riding down the street glaring at everyone I would see, thinking “Surely, this cannot be God’s will for my daughter.”  People were trying to move out of neighborhoods like these. I could not imagine bringing up young children here. How could they be protected? I found myself saying, “God, is it over for them? Is this season finished for them yet?” I acted like there was some magical safe place in the world where they should live and things would be just fine. I knew better. And I knew that God knew better. He knows the plan He has for them and their neighbors.

“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” – Proverbs 19:21

When things get tough (and they do), I want to plead with Jay and Lindsay to just give it up. I want to tell them, “People will never change!” Then I realize I am the one who needs to change. So I pray for God to change me and my selfish untrusting, sinful heart. Just last week a murder took place one block away in the alley behind my daughter’s house and some fellow Sojourners were robbed at gunpoint as they were just hanging out in their yard. Only a few blocks away. Again, I default to crying to God in fear. “Are you sure God? Are you sure this is where you want them? Why? What was the reason again?” Sinful doubt in my heart. Relationships in the neighborhood are becoming real and messy, but not without hope.

I could go on about my fear, doubts, but I would like to fast forward to what God is accomplishing. . .

[To read the rest, check out the Sojourn Community Church 'Seed Blog']

College student take big risks, do crazy things, think ‘radical obedience’, and, yes, submit and honor your parents through obedience to them as your God-given authority.

Parents realize that following Jesus demands absolutely everything of us.  If you belong to Jesus, if you are his disciple, then your life is his and your child’s life is his as well.

God has given you a stewardship of your children, a responsibility to love them and lead them in a life that honors Him – don’t “protect” them from obeying him and taking glorious risks, for Christ’s sake.

Sometimes . . . many times . . . every time . . . the most radical obedience leads to the most incredible things happening in the lives of the obedient.

Isn’t the gospel worth our everything?

. . . . . . .

Praise God for women such as Carol Wood (the mom) and for her daughter and son-in-law, Lindsay and Jay (the ‘children’).

I pray that God would grant me the faith to keep my promise to trust him with Abbey, whatsoever he might decide to do with her.

photo post: see any similarities?

Pending your perusal of an image of Beth as an infant (in the works) . . .

would you say that Abbey looks a lot like her Dad when he was a baby?

. . . . . . .

An image of Beth as a newborn is forthcoming.

Also, loyal Abbey Watchers (we know why you really keep checking the blog), you can get excited about Abbey’s Easter photos showing up on the blog in the next day or two.

easter, minus the good news

Around the world Christians of every stripe and variety are stopping the week to celebrate Easter – to remember Christ’s crucifixion and, come Sunday, his glorious resurrection from death.

One of my favorite photo blogs, The Big Picture, featured photos of Holy Week celebrations from around the world:

. . . . . . .

Some of the photos are absolutely shocking:

A man, carrying a bundle of cactus on his shoulders in penance during Holy Week in Taxco, Mexico. (AP Photo/Gregory Bull)

Filipino flagellants kneel as they perform rites meant to atone for sins at San Fernando city, Pampanga province, northern Philippines on Maundy Thursday. (AP Photo/Aaron Favila)

A Catholic devotee has his hands nailed on the cross as part of reenacting Christ's suffering on the cross during a Passion play as part of a religious ritual during Easter celebrations in a village in San Fernando, Pampanga, north of Manila. (JES AZNAR/AFP/Getty Images)

Christians bearing thorn laden cacti across bare shoulders; coarse spines piercing skin, muscle, fat, veins. Blood flowing down backs, soaking garments.

Leather splitting skin, forming gnarled, twisting scars.  Bodies stained crimson from self inflicted wounds.

Hands and feet lanced by cold steel, pounded through bone and cartilege with hammers.  Blood flows mingled down, dripping to the earth, forming tiny pools of bloody mud.

Penance. Flagellation. Suffering. Self-Atonement.

. . . . . . .

Christian, Easter is a time to remember Christ’s finished work on the cross – his suffering, his payment for sin, the forgiveness he purchased for sinners by his sacrificial death on the cross.

Christian, don’t remember Easter through your own self-inflicted suffering, penance, and feeble attempts to “atone” for your own sin.

Christian, don’t remember Easter by “sacrificing your time” and “going to church” out of moral obligation in an attempt to make God “happy” with you.

Christian, don’t dishonor Christ by adding anything to his sacrificial death.

To do any of these things, to attempt add any work, human effort, penance, anything to the good news of the gospel is to celebrate Easter, minus the good news.

humble pie

pregnant beth dominated the hospital. now post-pregnant beth is going to be dominating the weight room.

Beth here -

Well, since it had been six weeks I decided it was time to head to the gym.

It all started with the elliptical – the dreaded elliptical.

Let me just say something right from the start – for me, running has never been punishment but more of a pleasure.

So I thought the elliptical would be a good transition into running again. Needless to say, I also thought it was going to be easier.

So here is where it gets pathetic.

I enter in my stats into the elliptical machine and begin.

7 minutes later my heart rate was at 191.

What?!?!?!?!?!

Before I began, the friendly student worker, Aaron Gilbert, informed me my heart rate should not be above “220, minus my age” (24) which would be a maximum of 196.

Admittedly,  I thought that would be a useless piece of information because surely my heart rate would not be above 140.

Again: 191?!?!?!?

I somehow made it through 20 minutes, red faced, looking around at all the younger more fit students around me.

My pride wanted me to say, “Hey, I just had a baby, you try this.”

But I swallowed my pride and headed over to the dumbbells. (Lee gave me a workout plan)

• I did bench press with ten pound dumbells
• Toe raises with tens
• Leg curl without any weight.
• Assisted dips – I added 85 pounds, meaning I was lifting hardly anything.
• And lastly abs (Try not having access to your ab muscles for 9 months and then doing a crunch . . . wow)

Needless to say it was a huge dose of humble pie. I don’t even know if you could consider that weight training.

But something strange happened when I left – I wasn’t bothered by it.

At this stage in life, the things I use to really value somehow seem to lose their luster. Perhaps this is the Lord’s sanctifying work on my heart.

With the birth of our daughter and and a patient wise husband , my perspective on so many things has shifted. Praise God.

All this to say, a humbling day at the gym proved to be a good litmus test of the heart.

flutter: twitter abbreviated, finally!

Thanks Slate.com for bringing this to my attention:

I just love me some quality satire.

HT: What’s Best Next