I Couldn't Have Done It Without You

By Brenda Black

“I couldn't have done it without you,” he whispered in my ear as we held each other tightly in a moment forever engraved on my heart. My college graduate towered over me and I felt so small, so proud, so sad, happy, weary and wonderful all at the same time on this very special Mother's Day.

Just a short three years ago, I wept and cheered my way through his older brother's commencement. That didn't make it any easier this time around. But while I compare the emotional strain from the first to the last of my graduates, I can't help but count the cost it took to get each of them to such a destination. A thousand prayers, unending words of encouragement, the late night study tips and long-distance consoling, nor the financial support, will ever calculate the end value. Once in a lifetime experiences plus the beginning of life long friendships plus the solid, well prepared launch into adulthood equals worth it!

But back to that phrase: “I couldn't have done it without you.” Can any of us truly say we accomplished any of our greatest achievements by flying solo? I don't think so.

Parents, teachers, friends, spouses, peers, bosses and total strangers help us throughout our lives. Mom gave me life and instilled creativity, Dad taught me to drive and disciplined me. My teachers taught me how to read and write and a pony named Spunky taught me to love riding. My kids taught me patience and joy and one forced me to master the art of washing chickens while the other insisted I learn to hunt. My husband holds my hand through many a crises, loves me as I am and listens to my heart. I have editors that polish me and friends that challenge me. Yes, I am convinced, I couldn't have done much without all of these.

The month of May presents many opportunities to ponder the people in our lives who have co-piloted our destinies. Moms get thanked ceremoniously in an effort to make up for the millions of times we take them for granted. Children get applauded for their academic prowess and paraded through high school and college gymnasiums dressed in caps and gowns. But, hopefully May is not the only time we pause and give notice.

When my son spoke those words in my ear, his simple, loving, sincere sentence meant everything to me. Of course I trembled and choked back tears. I tried a half-hearted attempt at jokingly agreeing. Down deep, I was

simultaneously drowned and raised on a tidal wave of emotion. It meant the world to me!

Our words don't have to be many to say much. A special occasion is not necessary. Just once in a while and whenever you get the opportunity, tell the people in your life how much they've contributed to the person you've become. No one does anything great alone. But each one of us can do something great when we take the time to just say thanks and let others know how they've impacted our lives.

Going Up to Lay It Down

By Brenda Black

In case you haven't noticed, there's a lot of talk of God these days: Debate over His existence, creative license with His infallible Word, curiosity over His home in heaven. There are people irate about losing their God-given rights and folks who would hatefully blaspheme the Holy One without another thought. Why so divided, why so volatile? Quite frankly, the reason is because there is nothing new under the sun.

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When Christ walked the earth, the battles were the same. Power, prestige, tradition, land, money, and a man's reputation. The Pharisees rebuked Jesus for speaking the truth and fulfilling the prophesies they held most sacred because they were blinded by their self-importance. The Romans got nervous over crowds of commoners who might cause an uprising and challenge their dominance. At stake for both was control of the people.

Look at the subject matter of a thought-provoking movie “God's Not Dead” currently creating a stir. A professor of philosophy demands his humanistic authority and declares himself god of the classroom. Then search the news for updates from way out West and down South

, where landowners are in a showdown with the government over the right to free speech, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness! Ponder the following thoughts extracted from a pompous online post: “Secularism is advancing, despite your attempts to stop it. The world is becoming safer, more peaceful, better educated, and kinder, despite your attempts to stop this advance.”

Wow! What kind of a rock does a person live under who thinks the world is “safer, more peaceful, better educated and kinder”?

People have not changed. The powerful wield their way over the perceived powerless. The arrogant demand their superiority...until the down-trodden have had enough. Then there is an uprising.

And that is precisely why Jesus came – to create an UPrising.

"Now as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside and said to them, 'We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life' (Matthew 20:17-19)!"

He knew what lay ahead and yet He went up...up to Jerusalem, up to criticism, up to humiliation, up to crucifixion...and laid His body down for our sin. This sacrificial act flung open the door for division.

“'I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is completed (Luke 12:49-50)!'” Jesus is speaking of the Holy Spirit fire that cannot come until He departs and He symbolically speaks of His death as a “baptism” of sorts. The Christ already knows what His act of great love will do. It will make possible the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of men. It will also force each one to make a choice, to take a stand.

“'Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division (vs. 51).'”

Of course, the message of the gospel is God's love and mercy. But not everyone receives this good news that would bind us all together in blissful unity. There are many who will not receive it; moreover oppose it vehemently. The division Jesus speaks about is the result of their free will, not His causing havoc.

Still, He went up. He Laid His life down for those who would believe and those who would plot for His cruel elimination. Then He conquered death and hate and injustice by throwing off the grave's chains and living again!

Good Friday is a day to remember the beginning of an eternal UPrising. It's a time to decide whether you're willing to lay it down and stand up. And Resurrection Sunday...well it's just that. A day to look UP and believe in the One Who laid it down and then rose UP!

Shakin' in Our Boots

by Brenda Black

Boot scoot boogie has a whole new meaning in the Missouri boot heel lately. The dirt beneath farmers' boots may seem a bit less steady with earthquakes rumbling below the surface. Sikeston, West Plains and Festus were all rocked this past month.

While Missouri trembles, so does another “M” state at the opposite end of the Missouri River where a 4.8 magnitude quake tickled Bozeman this week. Some will claim that an earthquake in Yellowstone National Park could awaken a volcano that could wipe out the planet. And a teeth-rattling tremor in the Midwest could take out bridges from K.C. to D.C.

Should all this news have us shaking in our boots?

Earthquakes are not rare in Missouri. In the past year, the earth moved 118 times in the Show Me State. I remember feeling my first rolling sensation about a year ago. The New Madrid Seismic Zone (NMSZ) is the culprit, but she hasn't really shifted significantly since the winter of 1811-12, when three earthquakes, estimated at magnitude 7.0 or greater occurred. Though the fault line has slumbered for a couple hundred years, there is no reason to think she could not rouse again. In fact, some predictions say it is bound to happen within the next 50 years.

The NMSZ, located in southeastern Missouri, northeastern Arkansas, western Tennessee, western Kentucky and southern Illinois, is the nation's most active seismic zone east of the Rocky Mountains. Over the entire course, nearly 200 earthquakes occur each year. Most go unnoticed, but should a big one rock the boot heel back on her spur, it could be felt half way across the nation. According to Central United States EarthquakeConsortium, “Earthquakes in the central or eastern United States effect much larger areas than earthquakes of similar magnitude in the western United States. For example, the San Francisco, California, earthquake of 1906 (magnitude 7.8) was felt 350 miles away in the middle of Nevada, whereas the New Madrid earthquake of December 1811 rang church bells in Boston, Massachusetts, 1,000 miles away. Differences in geology east and west of the Rocky Mountains cause this strong contrast.”

Just because we haven't felt the earth move under our feet, doesn't mean we won't. Just because the geysers in Wyoming haven't spewed hot lava, doesn't mean they can't. But just because disaster is always a shake away, doesn't mean we have to live in dread or fear.

"There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will fain from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near (Luke 21:25-28)."

The best advice I've ever received came from a very wise woman and seems most applicable here. “Be prepared for the worst, but hope for the best.” Isn't that the Christian's perfect plan? Know where you're going by knowing the Lord. And know that the destiny is perfectly unshakeable.

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved (Romans 8:22-24a)."

Be prepared. Be filled with peace. Be hopeful. "Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our god is a consuming fire (Hebrews 12:28-29)."

That's all we can really do since we are not the center of the universe.

Pausing to Plant a Word of Thanks

By Brenda Black

Immersed in a sea of people, I pin-balled my way through a crowded corridor headed to a luncheon. My reason for being one among the masses – to attend the 2014 US Agriculture Outlook Forum. In a hotel in Arlington, VA, situated in the heart of US history, I rubbed elbows with the world. As I dined on tasty American cuisine, my eyes were opened to just how blessed we are to live in this country and enjoy affordable food. Not because of the plate in front of me presented with flare and a high price tag. My persuasion came from table conversation.

Over chicken parmesan, crisp zucchini and linguini, I chatted with an exporter from Sri Lanka and the senior vice president of one of America's largest chicken processing companies. They were pleased with the entree, of course. By way of introductions, they soon learned they were surrounded by cattlewomen and the conversation took an amiable turn toward protein competition and consumption around the globe.

We talked cuts and taste, price and production. We bantered over flavor and variety of options. But I fell silent when the exporter began to explain the true limitation of protein in his home country. When a friend at the table asked about by-products, he looked perplexed. We thought for a moment there was a language barrier that needed bridging. She took another run at it and asked “What do you do with what's left of the chicken?”

“All that's not eaten is the feathers,” he answered soberly. One family may dine on a half-pound chicken for a week. Everything but the feathers is cut into tiny pieces and thrown into a pot of soup. If a child enjoys two bites of protein, it is a luxury.

The VP chimed in to validate the minimal consumption. His company shrink wraps product for the Sri Lankan market that defy our “super size” mentality. Packages ship to sell that have a single chicken wing. That's all some families can afford.

My lunch took on a heavenly form and I felt thankful and blessed beyond words.

We take so much for granted. Our grocery stores are brimming with ample and affordable provision. Fast food drive throughs, convenience stores, family cafes and high end fancy restaurants beckon us from small towns to big cities. From farmer's markets to popcorn at the movies, we have choices. Food is available and variety attainable. Yes, we are blessed to be able to feed our families more than one bite of meat a week...thanks to the American farmer.

Once upon a time in this country, raising food was all about survival for the immediate family. These days it is about health and nutrition, variety and abundant provision. The faithful farmers come in all sizes and grow everything from snow peas to pigs, broccoli to beef. Farmers are a passionate stock and dedicated to the bigger picture.

Farming is rooted in history and tradition, but has grown to encompass tremendous diversity in order to meet consumer preference and price points. In a move from feeding only one's family to feeding the world, farmers have become more efficient, more conscientious, more conservative, more capable than ever.

Photo courtesy of https://www.facebook.com/backroadprod

As spring arrives this week and the grass begins to green, notice the wheat fields changing hue. Appreciate the deep furrows of fertile soil turned beneath a plow. Savor the smell of a steak on the grill. And remember what a great blessing is agriculture in America.

Flight Attendant

By Brenda Black

The airline attendant ushered the pale and trembling young woman down the aisle of the plane. At 33,000 feet in the air, she weaved her way to an empty seat just across from me, where the stewardess cooly motioned for her to take a seat. In her hands, the weary woman gripped a paper sack that matched her pasty complexion. And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

While a dark-haired lady to the woman's left pressed herself into the window and never acknowledged her same-row visitor, I reached across the aisle and patted the back of the 20-something, expectant mother. She sheepishly turned her head up and glanced slightly toward me, afraid to leave that little bag of safety. She ventured, “I don't think the baby likes to fly.” Then she resumed position, shoulders rolled forward, head bent and one hand braced against the back of the seat in front of her, while the other pressed the plane's standardized equipment against her quivering lips.

For the next several minutes, I tried to soothe the fear, embarrassment and discomfort of my new charge. I tried to get her mind on other things through quiet, small talk. I rubbed her back and handed her yet another bag. She wore a spaghetti strap, next-to-nothing blouse and finished her not-so-winterized outfit with flip flops on her feet. The tattoos on her arm grew bluer black while what little pink she had rushed its way to freezing fingers and toes. I'm pretty sure the piercing in her nose echoed a metallic ring as hard as she shook from being so cold. When she began to shiver uncontrollably, I took my coat and draped it over her exposed shoulders.

Once again, she gazed upwards with gratitude beyond measure. “Thank you so much,” she weakly said. And I felt at a loss for words. All that I could do was pray for this lonely, afraid, very sick and desperate woman who looked more and more like a little girl.

I tell this story not for self edification. I tell it because that encounter opened my eyes to the human condition that seems more and more prevalent. People are desperate. Many are indifferent. A few are compassionate. Which are you?

What would you do if someone in need were placed at your elbow? Would you cling to the window, cover your nose and never offer a kind word like the woman in the window seat? Or would you offer a friendly gesture, be a knight in shining armor, an angel in disguise, a friend in deed?

This time I got it right and I lovingly reached out and offered comfort to a stranger. But a million times in my life, I've failed.

The reward for taking the time to show tenderness came from a young lady named Camie. When I exited the plane, a warmed and calmer young mother looked up and smiled and said, “Thank you for your kindness.” And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

Catch the Olympic Spirit

courtesy www.rickey.org

by Brenda Black

Wipe outs, crashes, skids, tumbles, collisions, and flat out nasty wrecks litter the snowy path to winter Olympic finish lines and “10's”. Many will have in common the brutal and bruised trade marks of an athlete in pursuit of perfection. Few will actually stand at the top of the podium. What could possibly be worth the pain? Why would anyone go through the rigors of training for one fleeting moment of fame? For each the answer will be unique.

Some athletes thrive on the rush of bitter cold air slapping their faces as they become one with the mountain and their ski boots. Others will say they were born to compete. Still many will claim their bent for pain and performance as a divine calling. The winners get the chance to tell the world why they beat their bodies into submission for the sake of a dangling medal and the spotlight. Most just return home to face the gym, the rink, the slopes again, and clamor to discover the secret ingredient of an Olympian gold medalist.

You don't have to travel across the globe to see that same spirit. It dwells in the hearts of contenders in all walks of life, not just Olympians. I've met hundreds of people in my lifetime who go the extra mile, give it their all and ever strive to improve at what they do. I've seen people in suit coats as well as sweat pants laboring intensely and bringing their best game. I've watched men in the pulpit live sacrificially to win the ultimate prize as well as witnessed students stay up all night to ace a more temporal final exam.

It's the human spirit that pushes us to press on. It's competition that fuels the desire to get ahead of the pack and not look back. And dangling in front of us, seemingly always out of reach, is the ultimate end that makes the journey worth every painful inch. The reward of a job well done.

I find the human spirit fascinating, the human mind mesmerizing and the human body remarkable when each is used to its full potential. Ironically, every one of us houses within immensely more than we ever utilize. And it takes the example of supreme athletes to awaken us to our own slumbering capabilities.

When we apply all of the God-given talents, sometimes we'll end up crossing the finish line in first. Other times, we'll go home with nothing but our efforts for a trophy. But always, the greatest satisfaction will be in knowing that we persevered and finished strong, no matter where we placed or how long it took.

May the Olympic spirit propel each of us to greater heights in our day to day lives. If we tap in to the talent within, reach deep for the resolve to be all we were born, called and prepared to be, there's no telling where such determination might take us. Whether you watched marathon broadcasts or visually nibbled on internet highlights; no matter whether you cheered for a single home-town hero or celebrated every champion, hopefully you felt anew the energy of endurance, the victory of fortitude.

The human spirit: Catch it, feed it and do something with it for good!

Sunshine and an Open Gate

By Brenda Black


They bolted like school children released for recess, with tails curled up and over their backs. Weaned calves in a lot out back of the house provided my afternoon entertainment.Through the newly opened gate they darted as if hearing the starting bell on a race track. I giggled at their athletic antics. One would tear across the pen like she was making a great escape, only to charge a matter of a few yards before meeting the metal rungs of the corral – face to fence. In one swift spin, she'd turn and run again, this time with the rest of the herd in hot pursuit.

For several minutes, their game of tag and turn and sprinting continued. When the running waned, they stood head to head and practiced butting. If calves could smile, I'm pretty sure they were grinning from fuzzy ear to fuzzy ear with great delight. The mild and sunny day in the middle of a cold January was most welcome to the weanlings and offered up a healthy dose of doldrum-ending exercise.

It didn't take much to alter their routine and find it delivered such great joy. Sometimes all one needs is a bit of sunshine and a little more room to roam. Take me for instance. I get a bit stir crazy post holidays. I begin to feel cramped for space and eager to purge. It's like spring cleaning in winter when the Christmas tree comes down.

I broke an all-time record this year of leaving the greenery up all too long. It was Jan. 13, by the time I got everything packed away! Never in my life have I gone past the single digit point of the first month on the calendar when it comes to dismantling the holiday cheer. But travels and work and plain weariness had me postponing the dreadful chore.

Now that the Christmas ambiance is headed to the attic, my house seems quite spacious. In fact, I have yet to return many of my non-seasonal knick knacks back to their standard locations. I'm just enjoying the sunshine and the open gate. I feel freer and lighter and less constrained by so much stuff. I'm thinking of spring garage sales and wondering if I should just leave a lot of my things boxed up ready to affix price tags.


Life gets cold and cluttered at times. Like calves stuck in a pen where it's been snowy and cramped, we can feel constrained by symbolic fences that seem to close in on us in our homes and in our hearts.

What I haven't told you is that as much as I would like to blame the Christmas clutter for my claustrophobic feelings, it has more to do with worries that I'm struggling to turn over to the Lord. Bare walls and shelves seems to help when I feel like I'm going to suffocate from fearful thoughts of things totally beyond my control. So, for a few more days, I'm planning on enjoying the space and I'm not going to rush to fill it back up again. And I also intend to soak up the Son a whole lot more in the days ahead. For at His feet and in His light, can be found my joy and the perfect gate to freedom.