Witty Witness

Maybe it's a common symptom of being a big brother. Maybe I do the same thing I fuss at my son about. If so, sorry Nick, Delaney, Haley, Andrew, and Allie. Big brothers have a tendency of acting like dads far too often. They confuse their role in the family. They are siblings, not superiors. Age provides wisdom and experience sure, but it never changes the role in a family. My son, JB, is the first born, rule follower, so when he sees, or perceives, his two younger sisters stepping out of line in the least, he lets them know about it. It's nothing I've taught him, JB just kind of stepped into the role of authoritarian. I've had to remind him multiple times recently, "just be a brother." I know it's coming from a good place. He loves his sisters. He thinks he's helping, but at the end of the day, I'm their father. Shouldn't that be a relief to him? Being a brother is easier after all, no duty to raise another, just to love them and acce

We are a society obsessed with earning. We are a society obsessed with spending as well, but we will chat about that another day. When we think of "earning" we likely equate that word with receiving money for work performed, right? But we use the word "earn" or "earning" to describe far more than folding green given to us for doing a job. Can't you hear a father barking the following words of wisdom at a child? (Perhaps you've heard one or more of the following in some form from your dad (or mom) before) "You better earn good money, if you ever want to retire." "You gotta work hard in life and earn your keep." "Nobody gets a free ride, earn your way." "Keep your head down at your job and earn your stripes." "If you want to make the team, put in time at practice, and earn your spot." "First impressions are important, earn their respect." Take all of the above examples an

Trying to pick out glasses through dilated eyes is no easy feat. On a related note, it stinks getting old. As I look at the carousel of glasses, post eye exam, they all look like varying shades of blurriness. After a few minutes of diligent and focused hunting, I decided to call it a day and schedule a follow up time to come back and browse, when I could see a little more clearly...lest I look like the church lady from Saturday Night Live, walking around sporting some wild frames. Sight, like all of our senses, is something we often take for granted on a day to day basis. Some of us never truly appreciate our sight until we start to lose it. Do you wake up every morning with a heart of gratitude and a tongue of thankfulness to God for giving you another day of sight...yeah me either. In fairness, we take many things for granted in our lives; our memory, our friendships, even our marriages. As a caveat, and it goes without saying, but I'm no eye doctor. However, I don't th

Three months. That's how long you have to wait to learn whether or not you passed the Tennessee Bar Exam. At least that was the case 12 years ago. It was the end of July and it was hot. I had been preparing for the bar exam for years, studying for it exclusively for months. Leaving the classroom on the second and final day of the exam, I stopped and turned back to ask the proctor at the door, when the results would be posted online. The proctor flipped through a packet of papers, then smirked and looked up at me, "October 13th. That's a Friday. So, Friday the 13th of October, you'll find out. Good luck." True story. I was nearly ill in the hallway of the University of Tennessee Law School. Of course it's Friday the 13th, why not? I was certain I had failed and that little exchange was proof I was in fact doomed.  Some people deny miracles happen, but on Friday the 13th of October, 2006, I learned that I passed the Tennessee Bar Exam. Needless to say

My hands have changed a lot over the years. Admittedly, I've always had hairy knuckles, that is the one unfortunate constant I guess. As a younger man, my hands clinched together far too often in fists of anger. They were thrown around with regularity at adversaries, when my temper was lost. As a more peaceful adult, the only thing my hands throw now, is piles of laundry in the washing machine, and my kids on their beds. Hands help us feel our way through the seasons of life, and just like the seasons change, so do our hands . Countless summer days at my grandparents pool caused my finger tips to crack and bleed from pulling myself along the concrete edge of the pool. In high-school, my hands were often sore and blistered from playing baseball during the week, and working at my uncle's carwash on the weekends. The carwash paid better, but baseball was far more fun. In college, I developed calluses on my fingers, trying to teach myself how to play the guitar. A couple

Tomorrow is Father's Day. A day that we recognize and remember Fathers. If you are fortunate enough to be able to spend some time with your father, do it, it'll make his day. When you type "Father" into the Miriam-Webster online dictionary, the results read: "A man who has begotten a child." By that definition, a man becomes a Father simply by having a child. It seems woefully insufficient a definition, for such an important title. "Fathers" are more than baby makers. Certainly there are "fathers" who haven't had a child, and certainly there are men who have a child, who aren't "fathers." Take the man and his wife who desperately want a child of their own, but are unable. Countless nights of tears and prayers lead them to adopt a child. Bringing the child into their home, they provide more than housing, they give the child hope, love, and a life. That man is a "father." Then there are the grandparents wh

Jesus, Chief Executive Officer. Wouldn't that look strange on a desk top name plate, business card, or LinkedIn page? During a recent bible study, our group covered a section on money and finances. The curriculum encouraged us to think of Jesus as "CEO," with us serving in the role as "Manager." The exercise seemed silly and cliché at first, but giving it deeper thought and headspace, I think they were on to something. When we look at Jesus through this unusual, corporate lens, we are forced to switch our mindset from our money, our finances, and our success, to the money that God has entrusted to us and the success He has blessed us with. Take the following conversational comparisons I've created. Which sounds more familiar to you? I personally refuse to answer on the advice of counsel...and for purposes of pride preservation. 1.) Man, I'm killing it at the office. I can't wait until January when I get my big bonus. I worked my butt

There is something different about this fast food restaurant. Each time I walk through the glass doors, a positive atmosphere wraps itself around me like an oversized quilt that was lovingly stitched just for me. I always feel welcome and appreciated here. According to their menu, they sell chicken sandwiches, but they deliver something much more valuable than a piece of chicken fried in peanut oil. The employees are young, but they are happy. Smiling customer service is always punctuated with "My pleasure," which is quite the rarity in the food service biz now a days. At some point in this company's infancy, the founder made it a priority to create a uniquely positive culture . You get the sense all these years later, that the employees have bought into that culture wholeheartedly and without reservation. Repeat customers, like myself, are now the beneficiaries of that culture. I'm sure you've been to a Chick Fil A before, but if not, stop in. You'll be

Instructions are far easier to read than to follow. After a few Christmas holidays with three young children, I'll confidently state most children's toys take at least 1 hour, 8 batteries, and 6 bad words to assemble completely. Most of the time I stare at the small instruction booklets just praying the words somehow jump from the page and into my brain. I don't care if it is a kids bike or an air hockey table, what I put together never looks like the box, and there are always extra "pieces" left over. "What are these bolts and washers?" Amber asks, while picking up a small plastic bag from the floor beside the wobbling bike I "built." "They give you extras sometimes in case you need them later," I fibbed in shameful defeat. That scene has played out more than a few times in the past. Some people are good at building things with their hands. My granddad was that way, so is my father in law. They can look at a project an

Pulling into the crowded parking lot of the restaurant, I mumbled under my breath about the number of hungry patrons already waiting . They were swarming by the front door like bees, and even spilling over onto the sidewalk benches. "I knew we should have gotten here earlier," I tell Amber with a lowered brow. I pull to the front door to let Amber go inside to "put our name on the list." By dropping her off at the front door, I secretly hoped we would beat a few slowpokes still walking in. Those suckers. Coming back out of the restaurant, Amber holds the square buzzer in her hand, and yells to the open passenger window "20 minutes. Want to wait ?" I should have said no because I hate waiting . I should have said no because this same restaurant just a few short months ago served my dad a salad with a piece of broken glass in it. But the food is so darn tasty, and it's reasonably priced too (sorry Dad), so I nodded yes and I parked the car. I start