Unless you have experienced a similar service, it might sounds strange to say I was encouraged and inspired by a funeral I attended. I am so glad I didn't miss that funeral. The church was packed, and the large screen showed an amazing slide show of a life lived well. There were images of Dan in Africa, in remote villages where he traveled regularly to share the love of Christ. And, similar pictures of he and his family in various Asian countries. Dan riding elephants, Dan in African dress with natives, Dan baptizing someone in an African river. To say Dan had a passion for missions would be an understatement.

Dan was a friend from church, and he served as a deacon with my husband. I can remember one of the first times I met him, at the Fall Festival, and he was dressed like a rocker. I didn't quite recognize him under that wig, but he certainly knew us. Or, the day after his daughter's wedding when he showed off pictures from the day before to any and every living soul within ear shot, proclaiming she was the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen. I remember the glowing pride and overwhelming love in his eyes.

I think I came undone after the slide show when the choirs came up for some praise and worship. You see, our church is not very diverse. But, Dan had recently begun to serve as an associate pastor in a church where he was more of the minority. To look up and around and see faces of all beautiful shades just unwound me--two congregations coming together to worship our Savior. The way the body of Christ should be.

Dan was fifty-four. He died rather suddenly from a lung disease. But, to hear stories from friends and family about his life, he lived every day as if he knew his time on earth would be too short. I cried off and on the entire time, touched by the way he brought joy and laughter to all those around him. He lived life to the fullest, seizing every opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ to all those he encountered.

I left that service changed. Because although I may hear a sermon about using our time on earth wisely, I was moved by the amazing witness of Dan Butler. When necessary, he used words. But, primarily, he lived in such a way to leave a legacy that will continue for generations. May it be said of me.

My Canadian family just loves to hear my Texas accent, tales of Southern life, and any true Texas phrase I can think of. You know, I was just fixin' ta write this blog post when my youngest was wallerin' all over me, and she was so darn cute I coulda sopped her up with a biscuit!

Yeppers. Our recent Memorial Day venture to the lake with my husband's family might qualify for a little picturesque scene of good ole Texas fun. We set up our camping chairs in a circle--you know, we are a close knit bunch--right there on the lake shore. We had us some sweet tea, and the caterer even brought the GALLONS of tortilla chips to go with the Mexican feast in a trash can (we all just assumed it was clean?). Uncle Craig was dealin' with a pesky critter as he prepped for the party, and he took matters in his own hands. Grabbed him his shotgun (it was within reach mind you), and took care of that squirrel by just shootin' him right outta the tree. Cousin Bubba wasn't there to help, but no worries. (nope, none of this is made up).

Our baby girl couldn't wait to jump in the lake, and we all had a good time tellin' the youngins to go do so. Life jacket safely secured, she walked down that dock with great confidence. But, seeings how she's never swam in a lake, she seemed a bit surprised by how big it was. And, dark...where was the bottom? Typical Texas weather, it literally rained one minute, and the sun shone bright and clear the next. Which made for some unusually chilly Texas waters (don't worry--they'll be boiling by August's 110 degree weather). She dealt with her confusion by meandering back down the dock to the lake shore, muttering, "I'm a little scared, but I just have to be brave, I just have to." Her self-pep talk continued for a bit, until she was psyched enough to venture in. That and a little coaxing from a sweet bigger cousin and a bit of teasing from a big brother.

Thank goodness for those steps at the end of the dock, leading into the lake. Caris hung on for dear life. She invented new ways to "swim" in the water, all the while, treating those steps and the railing like a spot on a Twister game--some body part was touching them the entire time. And, even when her lips turned blue (literally) from the cold water, teeth chattering, she squealed with delight and reassured us that, "it's just a LITTLE chilly."



About the time hypothermia was setting in hours later, we tempted her out of the water with the promise of a hot bath and a hotter meal. She was shriveled like a prune, but had such a grand time spending her day in the water. She even realized the merits of the life jacket as she exclaimed, "AND, I didn't even go down to the bottom ONCE!"

Reflecting on our recent adventure, she asked yesterday if I could just call Uncle Craig and ask him if she could PLEASE spend her birthday at the lake? She said she'd had so much fun, and wished she'd been more daring about venturing into the middle of the lake, seemingly chiding herself for her four-year-old anxiety. Then, out of the mouth of babes, she said, "Mama, next time, I just need to trust God to go out somewhere else."

Are you living your life with your big girl floaties on, content to stay just where you are? Do you cling to the rail for security, looking out into the unknown deeper waters, and too afraid to risk the adventure and delight you might find there? Well, you just need to trust God to go out somewhere else. He's the best floatation device there is. Even in the event of an emergency.