Anything Worth Saying

  
So I’m a day late. In all of my time writing, I don’t recall ever missing a deadline. I guess I hit a little bit of writer’s block and I just couldn’t think of what to write about. But this morning, creativity struck in the form of a Facebook post. 

Now I know what you’re thinking, “He gets his blog ideas from Facebook? What a crock!” Well, I find social media the perfect breeding ground for the occasional idiot and silly post. But I digress. 

This particular post was your typical whine-bag type deal that was basically complaining about someone else’s problem, how people aren’t setting Christ-like examples of themselves, it shouldn’t matter where I go to church…blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. 

The first thing I thought was, “So what?” But then I thought, “Let’s see how we can solve this problem.” So, I did what any self respecting person would do, I resorted to fractions. 

As I learned all those years ago, the only way you can add fractions is to find a common denominator. So, what was the common denominator in this problem? It was people. 

Let’s just be clear on one thing cupcake, people tend to make mistakes. Ok, people are flawed! We make all kinds of mistakes, false moves and we let folks down…a lot. 

Here’s the thing though, if you are naive enough to wait for people to say and do the right things, you are going to live an incredibly disappointing life. People will always let you down because they are flawed, regardless if they are saved or not. They will pick and criticize any move you make and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

All of that being said, it’s time to pay more attention to your Creator than your critics. Why not draw from the One that is flawless rather than focus on the flawed?

By shifting your focus, you are taking your eyes off of yourself and seeing what He has to say to you. If God has instructed you to do something, who cares what other people say or do? 

Let’s move on to what the Word says. The ENTIRE chapter of Romans 8 focuses on Jesus as the solution to living life on God’s terms and not our own. Take a look at verses five through eight:

Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God’s action in them find that God’s Spirit is in them—living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God. Anyone completely absorbed in self ignores God, ends up thinking more about self than God. That person ignores who God is and what he is doing. And God isn’t pleased at being ignored.

So let’s get back to fractions real quick. The prior common denominator was people. Upon reviewing that people are flawed, we see a situation that seems pretty abysmal. But we do have a solution: living life on God’s terms. 

This means that we have to shift our focus from ourselves and our critics to God, the author and perfector of our faith. 

So there you have it! As always, sharing and comments are appreciated. Have a great one and y’all be safe out there. 

  
I’m not a big fan of goodbyes. I don’t like thinking that I won’t see someone again, ya know?

For as long as I remember, when leaving company I generally say “later” or “see you” or even “talk to you soon.” It has just been a mindset that I have. Where did it come from? Let me explain. 

Goodbye implies something permanent. You say goodbye to college algebra, to bad company and even to Felicia. These are things you just don’t ever want to see again. 

To say “see ya later” says something entirely different. It tells the recipient that you have intentions on returning to the conversation or even that you will just see them again. 

I had some close friends who just lost a dear family member very suddenly and they were hurting beyond belief. I remember telling their son, who is like a brother to me, that this isn’t goodbye, just see ya later. 

It is said that death is “the great equalizer.” Meaning that no matter how rich or poor, fit or fat we are all ending up six feet under or in a fancy jar on someone’s mantle sometime. But is it really an equalizer?

Not everybody gets to say the phrase “see you later” frankly because some folks aren’t believers. They’ve never accepted Christ as their personal Lord and Savior; therefore, they don’t get to make the trip up high. They get to feel the burn, if you know what I’m sayin. 

The great man who passed was saved and we get to reflect on this verse as we say goodbye to him. It’s out of 1 Corinthians 15:54-57. It says:

 “Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? ” For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Tommy is gone, but we get to take comfort in knowing that he’s looking down on us, sitting with Jesus, saying “Hey Jesus, that reminds me of a story…just kiddin.” 

Please take this as a plea to straighten things up and get saved. In James it talks about how your life is like a mist, here one second and gone the next. Also, cherish your loved ones. Call that family member that you haven’t patched things up with, it’ll be well worth it. Y’all be safe out there. 

  
Do you remember the first time you lied? Ok, probably not, but there has been times where you might have fudged the truth a little bit. Right?

I remember when I lied to Jeg one time. It was over a stinkin water bill. I had forgotten to pay it, twice, and the city cut us off. It wasn’t that we err broke or anything, I just didn’t pay it. She asked me what the deal was and I told her that it was an error on the city. Later that day, she found out and it hurt her so bad. It was a hurt that took a while to recover from. But we did and are a better couple for it.

What I’m getting at is that telling the whole truth is is super important to any kind of relationship. My parents always told us, “Tell the truth, no matter what. Even if it gets you in trouble.” 

I have gotten myself into a mess of trouble just for telling on myself, but it helped in the long run. So what does that say? It screams integrity. 

So what’s integrity? Most everyone has a basic understanding of it, but few choose to exercise it. Here’s an idea for you if you are still confused.

  

So is it just about telling the truth? If that were the case, people could get away with telling “their version” of the truth all the time and still be in good moral standing in their mind. 

Integrity is telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, all the time. Does it hurt? Well of course it hurts, but you’re gonna be better for it. 

Check out what The Word says:

“The integrity of the honest keeps them on track; the deviousness of crooks brings them to ruin.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭11:3‬ ‭MSG‬

Taking the short way around things might be the easy way at first, but eventually, those little lies add up. Your stories become more elaborate and your web of deception will start to ensnare more people. 

You can read all the best self-help books, post all kinds of fancy pull-out quotes to your social media but if your integrity is shot, those words don’t make a hill of beans. 

There will be a day when you realize what you have done; hopefully, it won’t be too late to salvage a friendship or even a marriage. 

I know that this might ruffle some feathers and even downright piss some folks off, but that should just tell you that you got some business that you need to work on. 

Let me know what you think, leave a comment below and share this your friends. Y’all be safe out there. 

  
Well, this isn’t a story about 80s music or an essay on why Patrick Swayze was a beast on the dance floor. I think it is something with a little more substance. 

The “hungry eyes” that I refer to here are the ones that, for lack of a better term, covet other’s lives. Whether it be their clothes, homes, vehicles or any other thing of worth, these “hungry eyes” translate into the perverbial green-eyed monster in one’s life. 

I guess it has been subliminally placed in our minds that if we aren’t “keeping up with the Joneses” then we have to want what they have and must do whatever it is to get us there. 

We live in a society today where that mindset has become commonplace and I guess somewhat accepted. But why? Why do we feel the need to get jealous of what others have? It doesn’t solve what we feel is our problem, yet it persists. 

Now I’m not saying that we shouldn’t want to be better and have nice things. In fact, your motivation should be to become a better you. I’m just saying the constant comparisons to other people is tiring and not healthy. 

Generally, when I see these kind of things happening, I turn to the Word to see what God says about it. There are numerous verses that talk about covetness and jealousy, but this one really hit me. James 3:14-16 says:

“But if you are bitterly jealous and there is selfish ambition in your heart, don’t cover up the truth with boasting and lying. For jealousy and selfishness are not God’s kind of wisdom. Such things are earthly, unspiritual, and demonic. For wherever there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there you will find disorder and evil of every kind.”

This way of living tears you up and it makes you look like, well…a jerk. 

So how do you fix it? How do you recondition yourself to not think this way? Again, go to the Word. In Philippians 4:11-13, Paul says that he has learned to be content with what he has because of the strength that God has given him. 

“Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.”

The biggest key is to humble yourself in the Lord. Remind yourself that God’s got you. He takes care of the sparrows and puts detail into flowers that are never even seen. So don’t you think he’s gonna take care of you and yours? 

So chill out on eyeballing and wanting the things of others. Feed those “hungry eyes” with the Word and be happy with what you have been given stewardship of.

Insights? Comments? Leave them below! Don’t get jelly and y’all be safe out there. 

  

A dog doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, smart or dumb. Give him your heart…and he’ll give you his.—Milo Gathema

There have been very few times in my life where an animal tugged at my heart. I’ve had a cat or two, maybe a rabbit, but not really a dog. I was never really a “dog guy.” Sure we had them on the farm growing up and I loved them, but there was no “unbreakable bond” like White Fang or any of those stories. That was the case until the chocolate dog. 

It was the Summer of 2010. We had just bought our house and were settled in. I was working at the newspaper and Jeg was a secretary at the college. We had busy schedules at work and volunteering with our church. We had decided that we would wait to get a puppy. 

One night while volunteering at our youth ministry, a fellow volunteer said she had some Chocolate Lab/Golden Retriever puppies that she was giving away. I listened to my wife “ooh” and “aww” at the thought of a puppy, but by the end of the night, she said she would rather wait. (I would later find out that she never stopped wanting one that night, she just stopped talking about it to make it my idea.)

Being the awesome guy that I am, I used this opportunity to swoop in and surprise her with a gift. I drove her out to the house and gave her the chance to pick one out. And she picked this guy:  We are big believers in the concept where the dog chooses their own name. Not one minute passed and he was named Count Chocula. What followed was the longest night ever, up to that point of course. 

Count had never spent a night away from his litter mates. So he was used to sleeping on top of other puppies, not by himself. He howled and yelped and kept us awake. Jeg told me I had to do something, so I did what I only knew to do…curl up with him in the floor. I laid my arm out and he cuddled up close in my armpit and fell fast asleep. Right then, I became a dog person. I became HIS person. 

What followed that night were typical puppy antics. Potty training was a slight challenge, but he took to it pretty quick. Chewing was the hardest. We alternated toys to keep him entertained, but the poor guy just couldn’t stay away from cabinets. He munched on the edges and corners of our cabinets in the utility room, which was his “room” while we were gone. Someone told us to dab a little hot sauce on them to deter the gnawing. We followed those instructions and when we came back, he was just licking it off! The little fella loved him some Tabasco! He was eventually broken of this, but it took a while. 

Our next hurdle is one that we are still jumping with him. He just can’t seem to resist swallowing paper towels and dress socks. I don’t think I have a pair of socks that even match. I didn’t even notice it until I was cleaning up colorful poop in the backyard. Even though we have been through two tubes of puppy laxative and a few enemas (that was rough,) it remains a constant battle.

Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs. From drinking two bottles of cough syrup to devouring an entire section of carpet, Count has still stolen our hearts and become our first “child.” 

Everyone said that when we had Little Girl, Count was going to be jealous. He was so confused, wondering why he couldn’t sit on the bed or the couches anymore. The hardest part was not getting to snuggle with his mama.   It took a little while to find his new place in the flow of things, but I think he’s finally warmed up to her (i.e. the top pic.)

Are you an animal’s “person?” I’d love to hear about it! Comment below and be sure to leave a like and share this with someone. There will be more Count stories in the future. Y’all be safe out there. 

So, we will be married for a whole decade this December. I know right? That’s kinda sorta flown by. A whole decade of Jacob and Jegi lovin is what I call it (that is frowned upon, but I do it nonetheless.)

When we started this journey together, we were a whopping 20 years-old and thought we had it all figured out. We had zero money, I remember giving our budget to a financial advisor at our church and she said, “Is this it?” We started out in a wee, one bedroom apartment and were completely in love and happy.

All these years later we have upgraded from the one bedroom to a house, gained a spoiled dog and have a sweet little girl with another kiddo in the way in August. Plus, we still have each other and are completely in love. We may not have it all figured out, but life is good.

People ask what our favorite memory is and we really can’t put a finger on one single one cause so many have been amazing. If you don’t know me, I’m somewhat of a “laid back” kind of guy. Ok, I’m a little wild sometimes. (Nothing illegal, I promise.) Let’s just say there is rarely dull moments at our house or anywhere else we go, now that I think of it. But I digress.

One memory that always comes up is our first wedding anniversary. We had gotten married in The Lubbock Club. It was high atop the Wells Fargo building in downtown Lubbock and was a rather exclusive club. One had to have a membership to even eat there, but for the right price, you can have an event there. I told Jeg that we would make a point to come back and eat dinner there each year.

Fast forward to the following year. December came upon us quick and Jeg was looking forward to our dinner. I was sitting back confident thinking that I could get in no prob.

Two weeks out from the big day, I call the Lubbock Club to set the date. The call was like:

Hostess: Lubbock Club, how can I help you?
Me: Yes ma’am, I’d like to make a reservation.
H: What name will that be under?
Me: Tucker
H: Oh yes Mr. Tucker, what day and time would you like?

I set my date and time, no problem! All I thought was, “Dang, thins isn’t a big deal at all. I got this.” While talking to my middle brother, John, I realized that could have been a taller order than I expected. It went like this:

John: Hey man, big anniversary coming up!
Me: Oh yeah!
John: What are you going to do?
Me: We’re gonna go to the Lubbock Club! It’s gonna be pretty cool!
John: Oh yeah? You got a reservation?
Me: Yeah, why the surprise?
John: I mean, I’m not doubting you, but you need a membership to get in that place.
Me: Oh yeah, I’m in dude!
John: Alright little bro! Let me know how it turns out!

I hung up thinking. “That dude doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I got in no problems.” And I went upon my way.

As I talked with more friends and family members, they all had the same astonished reply when I told them what we were doing for the anniversary. I’m just thinking what’s the deal? I had zero problems arranging it and I’m not gonna question that.

The day arrives. We exchanged our gifts and got ready to head out for the date. One of the last “critiques” of our night came from a close friend. He had told us to “dress to the nines” when we went up there. Neither of us really had any formal clothes. But I had a new leather jacket and slacks and Jeg was gonna look stunning regardless. So we took our chances.

The elevator ride felt like it took forever, but we finally made it to our floor. As soon as we stepped out, the hostess greeted us by name, “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, right this way.” Jeg looked at me all impressed and, honestly, I was impressed with myself.

We got to our seat, which was pretty nice. The table overlooked the downtown area, right at all of the Christmas lights. It was almost the perfect recreation of our great night the year prior.

There were three couples in the ENTIRE club and we didn’t exactly fit with them. When we were sat down, I noticed that they all had extra pairs of shoes by their seats, full suits and evening gowns. They did cast a little bit of a glare in our direction, but oh well, we are gonna enjoy our night.

We placed our orders, shortly after the waitress brought out our salad and soup. I got this lobster bisque…which was a stretch for me. It was kinda weird. Actually, it was crunchy in places, which is not characteristic of a bisque. Jeg was loving her salad and just grinning away. The waitress came back out to serve the table next to us. She stumbled and dropped the roll she had in her hand. The elder man of the table scoffed as the waitress vehemently apologized. She then came over to our table and dropped one onto our table. Apologies spewed from her mouth. I told her just to calm down and it’ll be okay. She said thank you and went about her way. I couldn’t help but notice how nervous each of our servers were. Again, this was something new to this guy. Anyways, the night goes on.

The band began playing (yes, there was a band.) These guys were a piece of work. They were all dressed in the same cheapo, gold tuxedo vests. The lead singer was singing like he was Dean Martin at The Flamingo. “Bésame, bésame mucho,” he crooned as he ran his hand through his greased hair.

Our food came, we ate and enjoyed our time together. The manager wandered between our tables, asking about our service and how everything was. Our neighbors, the snooty turds, complained about the dropped rolls and said that it should not go unpunished. We looked at one another and just couldn’t believe that it was happening. Whatever, just keep rolling.

Our check came, that’s where this evening takes an interesting turn. The waiter, our waitress was mysteriously gone now, told us, “Here is your check Mr. Tucker. You can just sign it to your tab.”

My tab? What tab? Looking closer at the ticket, Jacob Tucker wasn’t on the ticket. Another Tucker was on the ticket. That was how I had gotten my reservation. I was an imposter! And we were eating on someone else’s tab! How was I going to explain this to my wife? Jeg said immediately, “What tab? How did you get this reservation?” I told her what happened and she then asked how I was going to fix it.

Now a rational thinker would just go to the waiter, explain the mixup and just get the ticket taken care of. But when I am flustered, I’m more of an impulsive thinker. I called the waiter over and asked if I could just pay cash for our meal because I just didn’t want to worry about it later in the month. He gave me a weird look and called the manager over. We shifted uncomfortably in our seats. Our position had gone from out-of-place to just plain awkward. The manager asked me to explain what was going on. I reiterated what I told the waiter and he understood. He took my money and had to go down a floor to get some change. These people probably thought that I was having an affair and was trying to cover it up by paying cash and leaving no paper trail.

As soon as the manager got back with our change, we cut out of that place, laughing all the way to Walmart. At least we could cap off the night hanging out with our kind of people.

A while back, I was chatting with a friend about a number of things and somehow, the conversation shifted to farming. He had just recently obtained some farmland and he was pretty excited about it. He knew I had grown up on a farm and had some knowledge, albeit a small amount, but farming knowledge nonetheless. We discussed farming, buying a small tractor for his current property, drilling winter wheat, CRP and the dream of one day living on his new land. As the convo waned, I just told him that it was hard work and I hope for the best for him.

The months passed and as harvest came and went, his excitement of owning a farm did the same. His statements went from that of a child on Christmas morning to that of a man looking for payback on an investment. He said that the farmer who the land was leased to didn’t make the crop he had expected and he hoped that some kind of a profit would be made.

As I listened, my mind traveled. It delved into the depths of my memory to a childhood of running through shelter belts of trees, climbing on plows and trailers, reenactments of historical battles with my brothers and my dad.

I remember hearing these same exchanges growing up. “I just hope we get that rain this week, we really need it. I think we’re gonna plant some wheat or guar this year.” Gaylon Tucker, the ‘Wildman of West Texas,’ was a farmer through and through.

He was an upteenth generation farmer, turning the same land he had grown up on. Teaching his boys to have a love for the land, the value of a dollar and virtue of a good man.

Being the third and final son, not a whole lot was put on me with the farm. James, the eldest, and John, the middle, were the farmhands of the family. I was the gopher. Go get the tools, get this bag of seed over here, get the water hose to fill up this fertilizer tank, etc. But when there was a job to do, the family would be out helping. I can remember the countless times that we hauled hay bales, picked black-eyed peas before the deer could get them and picked huge red diamond watermelons and mom bringing out sandwiches. Now those are some memories.

But things weren’t always so hunky dory. Farming had hardships. And we knew all too well about hardships. Planting seed and getting a far less than perfect yield. Running a combine over wheat and the machine catching on fire. The water well going out…a lot. Carrying water by hand to the animals. The pigs breaking out of their pens, right before the bus picks you up for school. (Mom was the bus driver, so if we were late…everyone was late.) Dad out working till dark to get at least one of the antiquated tractors running to get the crop in.

There were many more occasions that I could talk about, but it will only lead me away from the main part of the story, which is my dad.

It takes a special man to farm and Wildman was that kind of man. Despite all of the experiences, good and bad, he was unwavering. He smiled and just kept on trucking. I don’t remember him ever saying he just wanted to give up or quit, which was something he passed on to his boys. I can’t tell you how many times I came home telling him how bad a job or an event at school was and he’d just say, “Son, there are gonna be things in life that you don’t like to do, but you just gotta do it anyway. You made a commitment, honor it.”

Speaking of commitments, dad was also one to “loan” his sons for a number of odd jobs. One summer, I think I was turning 15 that year, he committed me to weed eating with a mowing crew. I had never ran a weed eater. It was just something that we didn’t have. But, according to my dad, I was the best and fully capable. I spent an ENTIRE summer traveling the back roads of three counties, trimming the tall weeds around culverts and road reflectors. Looking back, I realize that he was instilling in us a hard work ethic of a farmer, even though I wasn’t going to be one myself. That quality, I have learned, is something that separates you from the rest of the pack.

With all that being said, I don’t think we, me and my brothers, would have become half the men that we are if it weren’t for The Wildman.

I finally snapped out of my memory daze and told my discouraged friend to keep going. Farming is hard, but the return is worth it. Just ask my dad. He planted us, fed and watered is with words of encouragement, watched us grow and weeded out the bad when necessary and when we were ready to leave the farm, he was proud to show off his prized crop. Even though the profession of farmer wasn’t carried on by us, something far greater was passed to us: a legacy of hard work, virtue and care for others. Thanks dad.