My Current Life Plan
Updated 1April 2013 2013 Life Plan as of 30Mar2013 on file: 2013April_My Life Plan_Iles.docx Curt Iles What Matters Most: PIN 1. My Jesus-Walk I want to chase hard after Jesus. Haraka haraka! 2013 Key Verse: “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and how they were uneducated common men, they took note that they had been with Jesus.” Acts 4:13 My life verse: Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you. -Matthew 6:33 My life statement: I want to be: A man God can use and be respected by my wife, sons, daughter-in-laws, and eight (8) grandchildren. 6 Words As of 30Mar013 Walk Closely Daily Connect in Relationships Grateful Prayer Simplicity Encourage! LLL be a Life Long Learner 2013Keyword:Juxtaposition:Comparing/Contrasting Heart Song: “How Firm a Foundation” “The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose I will not, I will not desert to its foes. That soul, although Hell shall endeavor to shake, I will not, I will not, no never forsake.” Bible Books: Colossians Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) Acts Proverbs Daily: Pray without Ceasing Hunger and Thirst for Intimacy with Jesus Reflection and Meditation on the Word Journaling. PIN 2. My sweet wife,DeDe Purpose Statement: DeDe’s friendship is my most important human relationship, so I will invest my time, love, and money in her. My Goals: Acts of Service Quality Time Physical Touch Action Steps: Nightly prayer Bible verse after each meal/prayer Monthly date night Walk and Listen! Our Marriage Manifesto 1. We will seek to have a growing marriage. 2. We will expect the best out of each other. 3. We will keep all lines of communication open. PIN3:Balance/Stewardship Purpose Statement: I must take care of myself so I can fully take care of others. I must plan my life or it will plan me. I will live a balanced life as Jesus outlined in Luke 2:52 Spiritual Favor with God Social Favor with man Physical Stature Mental Wisdom My Goal: Be a wise steward of all our God-given resources and talents. My STEWARDSHIP includes: Finances Time Resources Love Land Talents Energy Je? Question? What are the 5 Unbreakable Appointments I have in my life that are horse-high, bull-tough, and pig tight? 1. My daily walk and fellowship with Jesus. 2. My time in the Word 3. My growing relationship with DeDe 4. Being in contact with our Boys and their families 5. Looking for opportunities to share/pray about Jesus A. STATURE PHYSICAL HEALTH 1. REST God cannot fully use a tired man. Verse: Come unto me all ye that are heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Matt. 11:28 7-10 Modules of rest per week 3 consecutive modules per week Jesus withdrew into the wilderness . . . Mark 1:45 2. EXERCISE Purpose Statement: I don’t want to rust out while the engine’s still running. My Goal: Move daily! Walk/Run 50 minutes daily Stand up office Bike ride to Africa 3. DIET I will eat to live, not live to eat. B. SPIRITUAL HEALTH See Pin 1 Pray 10 Pins Praying with others in my LifeSpace Finding out where they are with my Jesus DISCIPLESHIP See Pin 6 C. MENTAL HEALTH AND WISDOM Jesus grew in wisdom . . . See Journal 61 Jesus/ministry/and rest Purpose Statement: I must live a balanced life due to my Writer’s Soul. THE BALANCED CALENDAR My current i-calendar can be viewed at ________. My Scheduled Calendar Reviews Daily: Read the Word/Journal the Word and Stories Share/Zero out Email/Proper Rest/Healthy Reading/Exercise/Meditation on the Word/Prayer without Ceasing Weekly Sabbath modules Goal: 7-10 “modules” per week/3 in a row Luddite Day/Weekly Review/3 blogs: Sat Tues Thur Monthly 2x Personal Retreats/P and L sheet/Review-update-print life plan/Review-update-print 2013 Iles Calendar Quarterly end of March/June/Sept Yearly week after Christmas 1. OUTDOOR LIVING Purpose Statement: Being outdoors in nature keeps my feet on the ground. Supporting Verse: Be still and know that I am God. Psalms 46:10 My Goal: Spend maximum time outdoors Breathing Fresh Air 2. PLANNING INTROSPECTION “The examination or observation of one’s own mental and emotional process.” A. QUADRANT II LIVING Planning and Review “Closed for inventory” Days “If have one day to cut down a tree, I spend six hours sharpening my saw.” -Abraham Lincoln B. GETTING AWAY Plan your calendar or it will plan you: C. THE N WORD: “Focus allows you to say NO.” -Steve Jobs What should I say “NO” to? Anything that doesn’t help people, lift up Jesus, influence and impact, or involve my family. What are the big “YESES” in my life? Jesus, Family, Influence/impact. 3. PERSONAL GROWTH L.L.L.* *LIFE LONG LEARNING A. Reading goals What am I currently reading? What is on my dream book list LINK What’s on my yearly reading list? LINK B. Mentoring Who am I mentoring? Who is mentoring me? Who are my accountability group?. INTERNET ACCOUNTABILITY Who is praying for me? Who is speaking truth into my life? Whom am I pouring my life into? C. WHO IS ON MY SECRET BOARD OF DIRECTORS? 1. Who is my Barnabas? 2. Jethro? 3. CFO? 4. Luke? 5. Timothy? 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. PINS 4 and 5 SOCIAL HEALTH LUKE 2:52 “Favor with man . . . “ PIN 4. MY FAMILY Purpose Statement: Because my greatest legacy will be my family, I will seek to pour my resources (time, love, and money) into their lives. Our sons and daughter in laws I am still a father to my sons. Iron sharpens iron. Grandchildren PHONE/VOICE
Curt’s Current “Six Words to Live By”
I seek to live by six defining words. It helps keep me focused and purposeful. Here are my current words as of August 2012. I’d love to hear about the words you’ve selected.
Here we go!
Here are notes, quotes, and drawing from my current notebook. It’s the 58th journal I’ve kept. Every leader must be a reader. I’m a “LLL.” Life Long Learner. It means I must constantly be reading and listening. This story is fictional but it’s based on a story from one of DeDe’s uncles. I laughed writing it. I hope you do too. King of Kings, Lord of Lords. My name is Nancy. This is my story of the Christmas I’ll never forget/always remember. I had finished my sophomore year at L.S.U. and brought Jeff home to meet our family. Naturally, I was nervous about my rural Pineview family being nice to him. Jeff was from old money in New Orleans and our rural dairy farm was another world to him. Everything went fine until Christmas Eve. Our Baptist Church had a traditional candlelight service. Jeff was Presbyterian and I explained this would be a lot different from the liturgical services he’d grown up on. I had no idea how different it would be on this cold rainy Louisiana night. He and I arrived fashionably late and slid in the pew behind my mother. She and Poppa always sit on the “Rob Lindsey” pew, named after her grandfather. My father was finishing up milking and hadn’t arrived. Just about the time the choir started “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” is when Poppa slipped in. His flannel shirt was peppered with rain and the familiar odors of manure and wet cows settled in with him. He put his arm around Momma and winked at me. How could I be embarrassed by my hero? He was the best man I knew. The children’s class played out their nativity scene replete with towel headdresses and bathrobes. Poppa laughed as the children waddled down the aisle. My boyfriend Jeff saw it first. Poppa put his arm over the pew back and made the mistake of inserting his middle finger in a Lord’s Supper cup holder. Poppa had sausage-like fingers with ham-sized hands. It was much easier getting the finger in than out. He grunted and twisted the finger to no avail. It was stuck. I put my hand over my mouth. Jeff helpfully leaned up and tried to help but only irritated Poppa. He leaned back over the pew to get a visual on his predicament. He cut his eyes at me, which only made me laugh louder. By now Momma had been alerted as well as the two rows of young people sitting behind us. That section was the congregation had lost all interest in the program; they were intent on what would later be called “The Battle of Lindsey Pew.” Poppa tried to jerk his finger out but only succeeded in shaking the entire pew and causing more pain. His finger was turning blue. The highlight of the Pineview Baptist Christmas Program was always the choir’s attempt at “The Halleluiah Chorus.” Poppa always said, “They’re out of their league trying it. Handel didn’t write it for pulpwooders, housewives, carpenters, and schoolteachers and anyone with a ‘day job.’ ” Regardless, it was time for their rendition. The choir leader, Silas Moore, shared the story of Handel’s performance when the King of England—visibly touched by the soaring music—stood to his feet. Since then, “The Halleluiah Chorus” has been sung with the audience standing. Sure enough, the first notes rang out and the congregation rose. Everyone except Daddy. He tried to stand but could only manage an uncomfortable lean, his right hand pinned to the back of the pew. About the time they boomed out “King of Kings and Lord of Lords, he sagged into his seat. His finger was pinched and so was his face. The song soared to its finish and the audience took their seats again. Reverend Williamson gave a short sermon and prepared to announce the benediction. Relief was coming for Poppa. “Bro. Bernard, would you give our benediction and blessing on the refreshments.” Poppa jerked his hand in one final attempt to free himself. It was tradition in rural churches for men praying to stand in reverence. Poppa had been tagged to pray but couldn’t stand. At least not straight up. After a pregnant pause, he took his leaning stance and began, “Dear Lord, we want to thank you . . . “ I didn’t close my eyes and neither did most of the congregation. They were staring at Poppa. About half had no idea what was going on. The other half had been watching him closely for thirty minutes. He prayed a brief prayer ending with a hearty amen. Once again, he tried to break loose. Mrs. Daisy Crawford eased over from her front row perch. “Bernard, have you hurt your back again?” “No, Aunt Daisy, I’m hemmed in. My finger’s caught in the communion cup holder.” She took a look for herself. “Is that so?” Momma stepped in. “Wait right here, I’m going to the Kitchen to get a bottle of Joy.” Poppa, who was red with embarrassment, snorted, “Wait right here? I sure ain’t going nowhere.” The crowd thickened as word spread of the situation on the Rob Lindsey Memorial Pew. Poppa whispered to me, “I feel like a damn two-headed calf at the Parish Fair.” “Don’t’ talk like that in the Lord’s house.” Momma returned and covered his finger with Joy dish detergent. In spite of this, the finger was stuck. It had swollen to a size that looked impossible. Poppa’s Uncle Henry pulled out his pocketknife. “Let me help you, Bernard.” Momma screamed and Poppa made a fist with his free hand. Uncle Henry unfolded his knife. “I ain’t gonna cut you. I got this new-fangled Swiss Army knife for Christmas. It’s got a Phillips screwdriver on it.” He went to the work on the inset small screws holding the
Two Trees . . .
Two stories on forgiveness
This chapter is from our upcoming short story collection, Christmas Jelly. It contains two of the most powerful stories on forgiveness I’ve ever heard. May Ruth and Biggie’s stories touch you as they have me. On Forgiveness Forgiveness: the greatest gift to give. You can receive it. You can give it. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I still think about it about foggy mornings, especially during winter. It was a foggy November morning that changed our community forever. Five men from our community were carpooling south to their highway department jobs in Lake Charles. A northbound eighteen-wheeler passed in the thick fog. The driver later said he veered to the ditch when he saw the Volkswagen van, but its driver did the same. The head-on collision killed all five men. Our village and nearby Fairview community were devastated. Five women became widows; several of my friends became fatherless. Mr. Ritchie Young was driving the vehicle. He and his wife Ruth were close friends with our family. Their sons, Bubba and Paul, were two of my best teenage friends. I watched up close the grief and loss a tragedy like this brings. Mrs. Ruth has been my mom’s best friend for over fifty years, including the forty years since the tragedy. Mrs. Ruth, Mom, and several other ladies make up “The Posse,” a rambling fun group of Dry Creek single ladies. I consider Ruth Young Taylor a second mother. I love her. That love and respect only deepened when she recently told me this story: “After Ritchie was killed, the driver of the eighteen-wheeler was in jail for nearly a year. Elaine Young and I went to see him. They checked our purses as if we might be carrying on gun, but we weren’t there for revenge. We were there to extend forgiveness. ” She smiled, “He was shaking when we walked in. We assured him of our open hearts and complete forgiveness. He shook even more, but this time from emotion.” I studied Mrs. Ruth’s peaceful face as she continued. “Elaine and I found out his family was having a difficult time so we bought them a load of groceries.” I asked, “Mrs. Ruth, how did y’all forgive like that?” “Oh, you can’t do that on your own.” She pointed heavenward. “It’s got to be from the Lord.” You’re probably wondering what this story has to do with Christmas. It actually has nothing to do with Christmas Yet it has everything to do with Christmas. Christmas is a time for forgiveness. Receiving it. Giving it. Sharing it. It is the perfect time to examine of list of hurts and disappointments and wipe the slate clean. Thinking you can’t forgive them? If two women can extend forgiveness to the driver who their husbands, can’t you forgive a slight from ten or twenty years ago? You need to forgive. Even more importantly, you need forgiveness. We all do. # # # Here’s another story on divine forgiveness that goes beyond human understanding: Just his name intrigues me—Biggie Spears. He was a legendary north Louisiana preacher. I never knew him, although I’m friends with his son and grandsons. In 19____, he received the call every parent dreads. His son had been injured when a vehicle struck his horse. He rushed to the hospital but it was too late. His son, _____________, was dead. Biggie Spears then turned to a man weeping in the corner of the ER. It was the man who’d struck his son. He went to the man, wrapped him arms around him, and prayed for him. In his personal journal, Rev. Spears shared, “I never expected to be praying for the man who’d killed my son.” His actions that day are worthy of his nickname. Biggie Spears. Big in heart. Big in forgiveness. God offers this same type of forgiveness to you. We believe that all the sins of the human race were poured on God’s Son Jesus at the cross. In other words, your sins and mine “killed” Jesus that day. Instead of retaliation, God offers us complete forgiveness. Biggie Spears would probably like the idea that his kind act in that E.R. was a picture of what God the Father has done for us. That kind of forgiveness is too costly to ignore or belittle. That kind of forgiveness is as close as your heart and your sincere prayer. He is listening. He’s waiting. And His gift of forgiveness has an added benefit—it’ll help you forgive another person who needs it badly—yourself. Often we forgive everyone but ourselves. We carry the heavy load of some sin, great or small. Some terrible decision that has affected your life for ten, twenty years or more. An ancient writer, Publilius Syrus, said it well, “How unhappy is he who cannot forgive himself.” Self-forgiveness is essential to our emotional and spiritual well-being. Jesus says, “Whether you can forget that or not, I have forgiven you.” You don’t have to carry that load anymore. And by the way, it doesn’t really matter anymore. In fact, I am powerful enough and kind enough to take this terrible thing … this invisible prison … and use it so you can better serve me. Finally, friend, I want to tell you about the greatest gift you can give this Christmas. It’s simple but tough. Whom do you need to forgive right now? Who has cheated you? Left you out to dry? Put you out on a limb and then cut it off? That person needs your forgiveness. Christmas is a time for dropping grudges. It’s a time to remind ourselves that “holding a grudge and hating someone is like drinking poison and hoping it kills the other person.” To help on this forgiveness journey, start small: Recipe for Forgiveness Active ingredient: Pray for that person by name. Initially, it’ll be difficult to even voice their name out loud to God … but go ahead and ask
An Encouraging Word
Thursday, July 26 Today is a Lake Charles day. I’m speaking to the Power Ladies Lunch at Glad Tidings Assembly of God. It will be fun! Hope. It’s such a big word. It’s when our candle is flickering And the tender reed of our heart bent and bruised That hope is most needed. It’s when Jesus always shows up. He’s been there for me in my flickering hope moments. He is faithful. He doesn’t deliver us from life’s gusty winds. He tenderly cups his strong hand over our candle and delivers us through it. Journalling or journaling are both correct. What I’m reading: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. getting ready for the movie! What I’m listening to: Zac Brown Band My Bible reading: the M’Cheyne One Year plan My six words: Commitment/Passion/Mentor/Legacy/Compassion/Encouragement
Day 1: Riding the Sunset Limited to California
This is day one of a three-part travelogue on my recent train trip to California. Enjoy! “All Aboard!” The conductor called out. I hefted my backpack and stepped aboard the Amtrak train. “Where are you headed?” “San Francisco.” “That’s a long way’s from here in Lake Charles.” “Yes, it is.” I didn’t reveal the reason for my trip. He’d probably think I was crazy. The idea for my Louisiana to California train trip began at the recent DeQuincy Railroad Festival as I spoke about the rich “No Man’s Land” history of western Louisiana. I’m researching about World War II and how it shaped Louisiana. I shared with the attendees about how Elizabeth, the main character in my new novel, As You Were, makes an impulsive train trip from DeQuincy’s depot to San Francisco. I read the passage where Elizabeth tells her parents of her trip. Elizabeth crossed her arms as Poppa said, “You’re going where?” “San Francisco.” Momma dried off her hands. “What in the world?” “I’m going to San Francisco to see Harry off.” “How you gonna get there?” She pulled the ticket from her purse. “I’ll catch the Sunset Limited in Beaumont.” “Have you gone crazy?” “ I’m crazy in love.” “You ain’t never been past the Sabine River,” Momma pointed out the window. “And you’re going to California? Why?” “There’s something I need to give him.” I promise folks at the festival Elizabeth will leave from DeQuincy before catching the Sunset Limited in Beaumont. My friend, Fennell Guillot, caught me after my presentation. “I rode that same route during the war. I remember it well.” Lola Mitchell tells me of trains during that time. As she shares, the idea for my train ride is born. That idea becomes reality when I step on board at the North Ryan Street Amtrak station. It’s Monday, May 7, 2012 1:44 PM. The train is on time and I’m headed west. To save money and be among people, I’ve booked coach. Amtrak has agreed to reimburse my ticket if I write and blog about my trip. We cross the Calcasieu, passing through Westlake, then Sulphur. We’re headed for the Sabine River and then a thousand miles of Texas. Gradually the pines of SW Louisiana turn into Sabine cypress swamp. There’s something soothing about the rocking of a train. I’m soon relaxed, visiting with my seatmate, a Lake Charles woman going to Los Angeles to visit family. Passing through Orange and Beaumont, I’m reminded of how scenery from a train is so different from the highway. Whereas we see people’s front yards from a car, you get to see their backyards from the train window. Click on image for larger view. I recall the words from my favorite train song, City of New Orleans. Rolls past the farms and fields, Passing towns that have no name. Freight yards full of old black men, And the graveyards of rusted automobiles. You Tube of “City of New Orleans” by Steve Goodman. I’ve downloaded a podcast by the National Park Service on each segment of the Sunset Limited. It tells the history of many of the towns and sights along the way. During tourist season, the Park Service even has personnel in the observation car giving lectures. The observation car is where I move to and spend most of the remainder of the trip. There’s plenty of room with an open glass dome to see the country and the fellowship of the friendliest people on the train. We stop in Houston for an hour layover and I tour the depot. It’s not large and definitely not ornate. Photos on the wall show the splendor of the old Southern Pacific depot. I’m reminded that the glory days of the trains are gone. Photos show hundreds of soldiers in front of a troop train. It was how America moved during World War II. Gas rationing and the scarcity of automobile tires put America back on the railroads. Darkness falls and we pull into San Antonio. A two-hour layover is announced. Two cars from the Chicago train will connect to our train before we continue west. I head back to my seat and stretch out for the night. The best thing about train traffic is the legroom. I’m a frequent flyer and detest the cramped quarters of coach on airplanes. Train coach has plenty of room. I can lean my chair back, prop up the leg rest and sleep soundly. Trains may be slow but they’re comfortable. I wake in the night and we’re rumbling west again. The smooth rocking puts me back to sleep. Once again, Steve Goodman sings to me, “You can feel the wheels grumbling beneath the floor, And the sons of Pullman porters, the sons of engineer They ride their father’s magic carpet of steel/steam. And mother’s with their babes asleep Go rocking to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they dream.” Next: Day 2 California, Here We Come! Curt’s Lists: Reading list: Rethinking Forgiveness Michael O’Shields/One Thousand Gifts Ann Voscamp/ Writing Down the Bones Natalie Goldberg What I’m listening to: “Black Eye Galaxy” Anders Osborne/ “Birds Fly South” The Mastersons Quote: “Life is an adventure in forgiveness.” -Norman Cousins Bible verse: “And your ears shall hear a word behind you saying, “This is the way, walk in it.” Isaiah 30:21 6 words: Encouragement/passion/commitment/mentor/compassion/legacy
Riding the Sunset Limited from Louisiana to California
“All Aboard!” The conductor called out. I hefted my backpack and stepped aboard the Amtrak train. “Where are you headed?” “San Francisco.” “That’s a long way’s from here in Lake Charles.” “Yes, it is.” I didn’t reveal the reason for my trip. He’d probably think I was crazy. The idea for my Louisiana to California train trip began at the recent DeQuincy Railroad Festival as I spoke about the rich “No Man’s Land” history of western Louisiana. I’m researching about World War II and how it shaped Louisiana. I shared with the attendees about how Elizabeth, the main character in my new novel, As You Were, makes an impulsive train trip from DeQuincy’s depot to San Francisco. I read the passage where Elizabeth tells her parents of her trip. Elizabeth crossed her arms as Poppa said, “You’re going where?” “San Francisco.” Momma dried off her hands. “What in the world?” “I’m going to San Francisco to see Harry off.” “How you gonna get there?” She pulled the ticket from her purse. “I’ll catch the Sunset Limited in Beaumont.” “Have you gone crazy?” “ I’m crazy in love.” “You ain’t never been past the Sabine River,” Momma pointed out the window. “And you’re going to California? Why?” “There’s something I need to give him.” I promise folks at the festival Elizabeth will leave from DeQuincy before catching the Sunset Limited in Beaumont. My friend, Fennell Guillot, caught me after my presentation. “I rode that same route during the war. I remember it well.” Lola Mitchell tells me of trains during that time. As she shares, the idea for my train ride is born. That idea becomes reality when I step on board at the North Ryan Street Amtrak station. It’s Monday, May 7, 2012 1:44 PM. The train is on time and I’m headed west. To save money and be among people, I’ve booked coach. Amtrak has agreed to reimburse my ticket if I write and blog about my trip. We cross the Calcasieu, passing through Westlake, then Sulphur. We’re headed for the Sabine and then a thousand miles of Texas. Gradually the pines of SW Louisiana turn into Sabine cypress swamp. There’s something soothing about the rocking of a train. I’m soon relaxed, visiting with my seatmate, a Lake Charles woman going to Los Angeles to visit family. Passing through Orange and Beaumont, I’m reminded of how scenery from a train is so different from the highway. Whereas we see people’s front yards from a car, you get to see their backyards from the train window. I recall the words from my favorite train song, City of New Orleans. Rolls past the farms and fields, Passing towns that have no name. Freight yards full of old black men, And the graveyards of rusted automobiles. You Tube of “City of New Orleans” by Steve Goodman. I’ve downloaded a podcast by the National Park Service on each segment of the Sunset Limited. It tells the history of many of the towns and sights along the way. During tourist season, the Park Service even has personnel in the observation car giving lectures. The observation car is where I move to and spend most of the remainder of the trip. There’s plenty of room with an open glass dome to see the country and the fellowship of the friendliest people on the train. We stop in Houston for an hour layover and I tour the depot. It’s not large and definitely not ornate. Photos on the wall show the splendor of the old Southern Pacific depot. I’m reminded that the glory days of the trains are gone. Photos show hundreds of soldiers in front of a troop train. It was how America moved during World War II. Gas rationing and the scarcity of automobile tires put America back on the railroads. Darkness falls and we pull into San Antonio. A two-hour layover is announced. Two cars from the Chicago train will connect to our train before we continue west. I head back to my seat and stretch out for the night. The best thing about train traffic is the legroom. I’m a frequent flyer and detest the cramped quarters of coach on airplanes. Train coach has plenty of room. I can lean my chair back, prop up the leg rest and sleep soundly. Trains may be slow but they’re comfortable. I wake in the night and we’re rumbling west again. The smooth rocking puts me back to sleep. Once again, Steve Goodman sings to me, “You can feel the wheels grumbling beneath the floor, And the sons of Pullman porters, the sons of engineer They ride their father’s magic carpet of steel/steam. And mother’s with their babes asleep Go rocking to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they dream.” Next: Day 2 California!
The ‘Long-Look’ is the best look.
A story was related to me this week by my friend Jeff James : a local Mennonite farmer talked about the art of plowing a straight row. “You’ve got to have the ‘long-look.’” The long-look is always the best look in making good decisions. That’s why I believe so passionately in having a written life plan. It forces a person to look at the “Long-Look.” How’s your long-look looking? I spent most of the past week in the woods camping, hiking, canoeing with a wild bunch of country boys. Even in the midst of a hot Louisiana summer, I love the feeling of the outdoor life. I shared with the boys a wonderful quote from rural writer Wendell Berry: “The Bible was written to be read outdoors.” Try it. You’ll find it true. A week in the life This is earlier this week at Foreman’s in Dry Creek. Can anyone identify the owner? I still laugh about an intro at a past East Beauregard High Homecoming, “Missy loves talking on the phone, riding her four-wheeler, and muddin’ in her truck.” I love piney woods history, culture, and people. It’s where I come from. Mudding or “muddin”
On The Journey: Tossing Your Hat Over the Wall
On The Journey Sunday, July 1 Mrs. Audry Tyler, age 90, shuffles past me on her walker. Another church member says, “Curt, I heard you’re going to be overseas on missions.” “Yes, we’ll be gone two to three years.” Mrs. Audry, who served me hundreds of lunches during my school days, says, “Well, Curt, you won’t be seeing me again.” I’m at a loss of words. I know she’s probably right. I fumble around. “Mrs. Audry, you may outlive me.” That might be true, but it’s unlikely. She and I were born on the same day. Just nearly half a century apart. Her in 1922. Me in 1956. Mrs. Audry smiles as her daughter Jenell leads her into their Sunday School classroom. “I’ll see you on the other side.” I grimace. “We’re not leaving until 2013.” The reality of what DeDe and I are doing takes hold again. We’ve thrown our hats over the wall and there is no turning back. We’re leaving Dry Creek. Maybe for two years. Maybe three. Maybe longer. There are things that will happen in my piney woods that I’ll miss. Births, deaths, joys, and yes sorrows. There’s no turning back. I have no desire to turn back. As much as we can, we feel we are following God’s will to step out of our comfort zone at this time in our lives. The reality of it began taking hold last week when the For Sale sign went up in front of our home. That’s when I knew we’d tossed our hats over the wall. Irish writer Frank O’Conner shared how he and a friend roamed the Irish countryside as boys. When they’d come to a stone wall too high to climb, they’d toss their hats over the wall. This meant they had no choice but to find a way over, around, or through the wall. It’s a great analogy for risk-taking and commitment. It’s that moment when our commitment becomes cemented and turning back is no longer an option. I hung a baseball cap on the For Sale sign as a personal reminder of the step we’re taking and where we’re at. It’s a scary place to be. It’s an exciting place to be. It’s a good place. Pray for us. Curt Iles 7-1-2012
Wed. June 27
When Greg gets to Heaven Greg Johnson is one of my friends. He’s also a hero and mentor. I’ve learned way more from Greg than I could ever teach him. Greg lives in Union Hill and serves as a volunteer at Dry Creek Camp. Greg was born with brain damage and is limited in many ways. But he hasn’t the purest heart I know. He understands and loves God in ways I never will. That’s one of the many reasons I love being around him. (Greg is the inpsiration for “Unk” in my novels, Wayfaring Stranger and A Good Place.) I was sitting by Greg in the Camp Tabernacle when the campers read a corporate prayer from the screen. I could feel Greg’s frustration. One of his greatest desires is to read the Bible. I leaned over. “Greg, when you get to Heaven, you’ll read better than any of us here.” He nodded and flashed his sweet smile. I firmly believe it. Greg– and all of us– will be fully healed, fully restored, broken relationships and hearts made whole. It’s going to be a perfect place. Greg Johnson will be reading from the Bible while he warms up during the first thousand years or so. When we all get to heaven What a day of rejoicing that will be We’ll all see Jesus We’ll sing and shout the victory. On Greg Johnson’s first day at Dry Creek (about eight years ago) he taught me a great lesson. One of our summer teens, Tiffany, received a call that her grandfather had died. The other summer staffers gathered around her in concern. I stood apart wondering what I should do. Greg pushed past me, into the crowd, and put his arm around Tiffany and prayed a simple heartfelt prayer. What a lesson of compassionate action. Thanks Greg for being my teacher.
On the Journey: Compelled
Thursday, June 21, 2012 Curt and DeDe Iles Gondor, Ethiopia circa 2007 Compelled: to be driven along by a strong force or object. “It’s O.K. to be out on the limb. That’s where the best fruit is found.” DeDe and I are taking the first steps on a new journey. We’ve applied with our missions organization, the International Mission Board (IMB), for a Masters Position. This is a two-year overseas assignment for folks over age 50. We are in a mid-stream swim through the lengthy application process. Our next doorway is July 18-21. We’ll attend a conference in Richmond, VA for interviews and possible job assignments. If we pass muster at this point, we’ll go for eight weeks of training in late 2012 and leave for the field in early 2013. This is a decision we’ve made carefully, together, and with much prayer. (Please continue in fervent prayer for us! Please!) We are committed to moving forward on this part of the journey until God shuts the door or we find ourselves serving in another culture. This is our current missions manifesto: We are seeking to serve however God leads. Currently, we feel that God is leading our hearts toward: 1. Working with/reaching an Unengaged/Unreached people group(s). 2. We are open to serving wherever. Our church, Dry Creek Baptist Church, feels led toward Sub-Saharan Africa. We simply want to be obedient to God’s leading. 3. Our goal would be to reach out to a neighboring/nearby UUPG and serve as a relationship bridge for our church (Dry Creek Baptist Church) and Association (Beauregard Baptist) and other like-minded friends/churches to adopt this group.** 4. Two verses reverberating in our hearts are: Romans 15:20 “It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known.” Revelation 7:9 ” . . . a great multitude . . . from every nation, tribe, people and language . . .” “Atttempt great things for God. Expect great things from God.” -William Carey, pioneer missionary to India. We will be using our website, http://www.creekbank.net and its blog to inform you of how our journey is progressing. We plan to be honest and transparent as we share the joys and challenges of leaving our beloved community and family. Pray for us. Feel free to share about our journey with others. Curt and DeDe Iles “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God…” Matthew 6:33 FAQ Frequently Asked Questions What about your family, children, and grandchildren? This is the difficult part. Leaving our parents (DeDe’s dad Herbert Terry and Curt’s mom Mary Iles.) is a concern. Our parents raised us with a passion to share our Christian faith. They lived the sacrificial life taught by the gospels. They are at peace about our going. Grandchildren! The joy of our life. We have five wonderful ones and two more on the way in late 2012. Of all the things we’ll miss, they are at the top. However, we feel strongly this will set a legacy of service for each of them. We feel the same way about Terry and Sara, Clay and Robin, Clint and Amanda. We can Skype, phone, email but nothing can replace hugs and personal contact. But our obedience must trump family. What about Curt’s writing? I am called/compelled to write. Writing is what I do and who I am. It’s very possible our assignments will involve writing/sharing about the needs and people of our assigned area. I plan to finish my current work, As You Were, (sequel to Spent Bullet) by this fall. Due to publishing schedules, it is difficult to predict its release. I will have a short story collection ready for Christmas. Entitled Christmas Jelly, it is a compilation of Christmas stories I’ve written over the years. I believe you’ll enjoy “My Grandpas’ Boots”, “Stolen Trees”, “Christmas Jelly”, and many more. What about your Dry Creek home? Today (June 21) our house goes on the market. Realtors Larry and Leah Boyd of Coldwell Realty are handling the sell. When/if our home sells, we’ll be guests in the missions house of First Baptist Pineville. This will also mean selling/giving away most of our possessions. Sounds like a challenge. Sounds like fun. As much as we both love Dry Creek, we feel compelled to make this move. We are doing it together and in confidence to God. What if this whole thing falls through? That is always a possibility. We’ll dust ourselves off and see what God has in store. “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” -Mark Twain
We lift our eyes to Heaven . . .
I’m blogging this week from G.A. Girls Camp at Dry Creek. Cade Gibbs leads the song, “Christ be the center of our lives. Be the place we fix our eyes.” Young girls singing fills the Tabernacle. I think of Patti and her story. She’s an adult who grew up at Dry Creek like me. A few years ago she shared this testimony: “I was a young girl coming to G. A. Camp at Dry Creek. The morning before we left for camp, my parents sat me down and explained how they were getting a divorce. Their words echoed in my mind and heart as I arrived at camp. It was a week I’ll never forget. Ladies and girls hugged me up and loved on me. They surrounded me with Christian kindness. I know now that Dry Creek was the perfect place for me to be in the worst week of my life.” That’s a story worth repeating and remembering. As Julie Spears shares about keeping our eyes on Jesus in the storm, I’m reminded that little Patti’s are here at camp this week. They’ve come to camp out of a storm at home. Camp’s a good place to be when the storm is here. A place to put our eyes on Jesus.
The Stories we hear . . .
Best part of my job: I collect stories. The best stories I’m hearing now: from the generation that saved the world. Our Great Depression/World War II men and women. Join me in collecting their stories. They’re all around you. Grandparents, great grandparents, uncles, teachers. They experienced first-hand a time that will never be repeated. Capture their stories. Use your smart phone (video, photo, voice memo, notes) or journal. In ten, twenty years they will all be gone. They’re in their seventies, eighties, and nineties. Many are, for the first time, ready to tell stories they’ve carried for decades. H.C. is gone now. I wished I could have heard his stories on this time. Thanks to Olin Earl for sharing this with me. Mr Lawrence continued, “I was one of the first Americans into Berlin. The Germans were elated to see us. The Russians were already there and was stealing everything they could.” Mr. Lawrence served as a driver for General Patton at Fort Benning, GA before the war. He “returned” to Louisiana for the 41 Maneuvers, spent time in the California desert, then shipped to England and Europe. Before the war, he enrolled in the CCC: Civilian Conservation Corps. He manned the Whiskey Chitto Fire Tower in Vernon Parish.
