The Unclad Soul

My Huckleberry Friends I have returned from a trip to the country where I spent glorious days with my son Luke, my daughter-in-law Tawna, my granddaughter T’Lee, and the dogs—Maggie, Trapper, Finder, and Poncho. We fished, we ate, we talked and laughed, we rode around the stunning ranch, we breathed clean fresh air. We even played golf one day at a little 9-hole course down the road. Well, Tawna and I did. Luke managed the snacks and drinks on the golf cart. As I drove out of the ranch to return to Dallas, I passed on the road an Amish couple in a horse drawn buggy. They gave me a friendly wave and I waved back. There is a solid Amish community in the area. They live mostly quiet lives. They follow strict standards of Christian morality and family life. They are a peaceful people. Hard working and immensely gifted craftsman and builders. The women are talented quilt makers and seamstresses as well as devoted mothers. Some have their own businesses. Some are teachers within the Am...

I don’t know if there is a heaven or  if there is a hell; but I know where paradise is.  Out in the country where the cattle graze, where the dogs play,  where the trees hang low  and the pace is slow.  Out along the old dirt roads where the fields are plowed and the wheat is sowed; and up on the hills, where the big bucks hide, and down below where the field mice crawl and the chicken hawks fly.  Paradise is where the fire pit burns and the beers are consumed,  where the laughs are shared and the city’s lampooned.  It’s cold nights in the warm house where the TV lights the dark, and the recliner welcomes with a comfortable embrace and the journey of sleep starts.  It’s morning dew  when the air is clean and the grass shimmers in the sun. It’s daily chores and work well done; it’s the flutter of birds over the trees, down in the low spots where the creeks run. It’s the end of d...

The poet, Tyler Kent White has written, “I promise if you keep searching for everything beautiful in this world You will eventually become it.” It is a promise I cling to. When I lived in Hamilton, Texas, a small town in the central part of the state, I often took to the countryside. When small-town life got to me—yes, there are political divides and social conflicts and elitism there, too--; when the strain of ministry seemed overwhelming to me because of unexpected deaths and divorces and fixed old beliefs and my own inner questions; I would hit the walking trail East of town. Or, I would drive through groves of trees along dirt roads out North across rickety bridges and the sight of grazing cattle on the other side. I would bird hunt with friends and fish in the tanks on their property. I never killed anything I didn’t eat. But it wasn’t the hunting and the fishing that refreshed me, though I did enjoy it. It was simply being in the country, in natu...