We have a bunch of ham leftover from Thanksgiving. That’s right, ham. If I were to choose, I’d pick ham every time. We are usually traditional on Turkey Day, but his year Brenda was handed a kick-fanny Honey Baked ham as a gift–so pork became our Thanksgiving main course. Needless to say, I had ham later for dinner and we will have some more tonight as well.

I am reminded of the loaves and fishes story from the Bible. Not only did Jesus supply enough food for the multitudes, but there were baskets filled with leftovers for some fortunate person to take home and enjoy for days. When Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding feast, he made three huge vats so there would be plenty. As with the bread, some blessed soul had the “duty” of carrying home the excess wine from the feast (can you imagine what the label would say if it were bottled?–God’s Best Vineyards–French wine would have nothing on it!). Every blessing that God brings is a reminder that heaven is not poor or wanting for anything. When He is involved, things are done with the utmost quality, and the quantity usually exceeds the needed amount.

As I eat our Honey Baked ham to the bone, I thank God. He constantly reminds us that He has our back. Even though it’s ironic–the God of Issac and Jacob gave us the forbidden swine for Thanksgiving–I see it as a wink and a nod to the fact that He wants to bless us abundantly. I don’t deserve any of it. I cannot match his generosity. So I will reach for a roll, slap on some mustard, and give thanks for the leftovers. AMEN!

From January, 1980, to January, 1983, I spent three years criss-crossing the country and the globe playing music for American Entertainment Productions (AEP). It was a small company out of the northern suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. It might have been a tiny blip on the radar-screen of the entertainment industry, but it has been “performance school” for me and many other college-aged musicians and singers since 1973.

AEP was the place where I learned to perform for an audience. I also learned to lead others, not only as a front-person on stage, but as a road manager. My responsibilities were to get us from gig to gig, represent AEP to the agents and show producers, keep harmony (relational and musical) within the team, make sure the checks were deposited and to see that we had hotel rooms for the group. You can’t put a price tag on that kind of an education!

(photo)First National Band in Turkey, summer,1982

Gary Henley was the owner and president of the company. Over the years he–along with Mark Sorensen, Wes Turner and arranger-extraordinaire, Stan Morse–staffed, outfitted, produced and transported hundreds of aspiring musicians to share stages with greats such as Dolly Parton, Jay Leno, Bob Hope, Tony Bennett and Pat Boone. My second year with AEP began with a newly launched rock group, the First National Band. We journeyed the US playing two to three shows per day for Jr. and Sr. high schools. We would do a short promo show and advertise that we’d be back for a big nighttime show in a few days. That added up to thirteen shows per week sometimes–often traveling two to three hours between performances. I remember crawling up to my hotel room one night in Nebraska and wondering if I would be alive when the alarm rang at three the next morning. How could a 21 year-old be so tired?

Gary has announced that he is selling the company after 37 years. This change makes turning the page on the past more difficult; it seems Gary Henley has always been there. I will forever be grateful to those guys at AEP who put up with me as I learned to adjust to road-life and being away from home for the first time. I grew up in AEP. Gary taught me some of the greatest lessons in life: don’t give up; the show must go on; make it happen!

Family is what Thanksgiving is all about. We are blessed with a home that is filled with love, food, rest and music–a place I want to run to when the day is through. Yesterday, our new daughter-in-law expressed to Brenda how much she appreciates the home we have. Really, our home is the sum total of what both Brenda and I have experienced in our lives–our own family, or others where warmth and acceptance were extended to all who entered. Even before Brenda and I met, we were making a list of the things we wanted in a home. Most of the qualities we observed and desired were things that happened naturally in family settings, not things that were forced–but genuine, sanctuaries and respites from the world.

All that I have avoided for my family can be found on the TV show, Cops: dads out in the street in wife-beater tank tops, or shirtless altogether; the living spaces strewn with dirty dishes and soiled floors; babies wandering around in filthy, ripe diapers; everyone scurrying about like headless chickens…Do you know the scene?

I have witnessed homes like this, real and up-close, and I won’t have any of it. When I was in elementary school, I planned to stay the night with a friend. His mom and dad started drinking before I got there, and in a few hours they were completely sauced and going for each others throats, both physically and verbally. I didn’t feel safe. I called my dad to pick me up and I spent the rest of the night in the peaceful sanctuary of my own home.

I am looking forward to Thanksgiving this Thursday. I know that our house will be filled with the aroma of food, the TV will stay on constantly, and by 2 o’clock, a coma will overtake each person until we all head out to our customary Thanksgiving visit to the theater. When we return, the countdown to Christmas will have already commenced and we’ll peruse the paper for Black Friday bargains.

I have found a resting place, and it’s called home.

Traditions are good. They are predictable, anticipated and usually meet our expectations. We look at our calendars and make our annual plans for Christmas, birthdays, Thanksgiving, etc. Our immediate family have inadvertently created traditions that Brenda and I didn’t realize were so until our kids, Josh and Betsy, brought them to our attention.

One big tradition has been on Thanksgiving. Right before dinner we all gather and stand at the table for a family photo which usually ends up being our Christmas portrait of sorts. Then after the feast we go to the computer and choose a new movie to see at a local theater. It’s simple, and almost sounds dull, but it has become a powerful tradition to which we all look forward.

Since Josh and Betsy have both married, and their spouses rightfully have a say in their holiday schedules, Thanksgiving this year will have to be tweaked. Josh an Amber will visit her family three hours away, and Betsy and Adam will share the weekend between his and our family. As Brenda and I look back over our 25 years of marriage, we see the changes that have inevitably happened to us as our family grew. Sometimes with a move, a death, or as the children grew up and moved away, our long-standing traditions had to be altered. It is a change we must ultimately accept.

Change is a good thing. Maybe within a few years we will have additions to our family and my name will go from Dad to Grandpa. In that case, I will look forward to the holidays all the more. I know that Josh and Betsy’s families will grow–new traditions will evolve and schedules will need to be adjusted. But being a grandpa is a change for which I can easily adjust. No pressure, kids!

I had lunch this week with two guys who build musical instruments: Mario Martin (Guitar Mill) builds guitars and Kevin Shaw (Shaw Audio) builds amplifiers. When I get the opportunity to hang out with guys like these I am both delighted and intimidated. As a musician I’ve learned to focus on the playing and leave the technical stuff to the experts. I can be intimidated because I am not an electrical engineer or a carpenter. But I know what I like when it comes to tone and functionality. When it all boils down, I am simply a guitar picker–and these guys make me sound good when I play through their awesome tone machines.

Here’s a video produced by Nashville Public Television–a great piece about my friend, Mario Martin.