If all goes according to plan, the next blog I post will have all the particulars about Bybee Baby #3. But this is the last chance for all of you to weigh in with your predictions (length, weight, name, etc.)
Just for the record, I’m calling 7lbs even. I have no clue about length, but I’ll go with 22 inches. Of course, I know the name, but that’ll have to wait until Monday!
I’ve already told Sunny that if she goes in to labor on Sunday, I’m not missing church.
Yeah, I’m a team player.
Nothing much to post today — things are hectic as usual. Just a reminder that a week from today we’ll become a family of 5. No more man-to-man; it’s zone defense from here on out for the little lady and me. After being all Billy Donovan over the name for a couple months, I think we’ve finally settled on one we like. A first name, at least. We had an equal vote in the selection of the first name, but Sunny says the middle name is all mine. That’s pressure. Gotta come up with something good. I have a few that I like, but I think I’m gonna eyeball him first and see.
Anyway, keep us in your prayers. Sunny’s doing well, just tired and fighting a bit of a nasal / inflammation thing right now. We’re trying to get it cleared up before Junior gets here. Actually, we’re praying the inflammation in her lungs clears up so it doesn’t interfere with the anesthesia. We’ll be sure to keep everybody posted.
7 more days!!!
These past few days, I’ve fallen in love again with an album I’ve had for a couple years. After hearing that my grandfather passed away, I pop
ped in my copy of Johnny Cash’s My Mother’s Hymn Book. Cash has always been the bard for our family. It was fitting then that this album served as my own personal soundtrack in the aftermath of my grandfather’s passing. If you know anything about Cash, you know he was always — even in his darkest periods — a gospel singer at heart. This album has particular significance for me right now. Cash sings some of his mother’s favorite gospel hymns, taken directly from her ragged old hymn book. Some of these songs — particularly I’ll Fly Away and When the Roll is Called Up Yonder — were among my grandfather’s favorites, too. The record is simple: Cash’s guitar is the only accompaniment. But the stripped-down production is an exercise of “less is more”. Recorded in the final months of Cash’s life, the sparse production allows the lyrics of these great hymns to truly shine. I’ve owned this album for a couple of years, but I somehow overlooked how beautiful a recording it really is. It’s beauty and simplicity remind me of my grandfather and it’s provided a balm to my soul in these days. I can see why this was Cash’s favorite album he ever recorded. Even if you’re not a Cash fan, your collection is incomplete without this 5-star record.
I sincerely appreciate all the thoughts and prayers so many of you have expressed in the days since my grandfather’s death. A few of you asked if I wouldn’t mind posting a copy of the eulogy here. There are a few “preacherly” parts I’ve edited, but this is the bulk of my eulogy for my grandfather. I’ll be delivering it this afternoon at around 4:30.
We gather here to remember the simple life of a good man. We are supported today by a faith stronger than death; we are sustained by the hope of a life that extends eternally beyond this place. We gather here to grieve; we gather here to celebrate; we gather here to remember.
William Burford Bybee was born on Oct. 3, 1913 in Jackson County, Tennessee. Over the course of his 93 years of life, the world changed quite a bit. He witnessed two World Wars, the Great Depression, the Civil Rights Movement, the Cold War, 9.11 and men walking on the moon. My grandfather lived a long life, a good life. And we remember the life of this humble man today.
My grandfather learned the value of hard work early in his life. After his father passed away when he was young, Burford and his brother Silas quit school and went to live with various relatives, farming and working odd jobs to help make ends meet. He spent some time in his early years logging and that’s where he developed a love for working with wood. He later worked as a hired hand on different farm properties. He happened to be working in a tobacco field one day when a pretty young lady caught his eye. These things have a way of happening this way; these two took a liking to one another and decided to get married. According to the story, they were working in the fields together one day and they decided to take off to the courthouse in downtown Hartsville to get married. Well, they got all the way down there only to find out the courthouse was closed. So they went back to the tobacco fields and decided to give it a shot the next day. On May 25, 1937, Burford married Miss Hilda Cornwell Hancock and for the next 56 years, they shared the joys of married life together.
Hilda was Burford’s pillar. She was truly the love of his life. Burford and Hilda had 2 children, 2 sons. James Alton was born June 24, 1941; Roger Dale came along on Aug 9, 1944. This was a strong family, a good family. As is the case with most families, the years brought some difficulties. Burford had to bury a son in 1987 when my father, Alton, died at the age of 46. A few years later, grief came calling again when Hilda became ill. My grandfather stood faithfully by her side until her death in 1994. The years after her death were hard ones. Burford grieved her until the day he died. But this family knew plenty of joy as well. At the time of his passing, my grandfather’s legacy consisted of 3 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren. In just a few days, the number of great-grandchildren will grow to 7. Granddaddy was certainly the patriarch of our family.
It would be safe to say my grandfather was a simple man. He came from a simpler time when people sought the simple pleasures of life. A front porch and a rocking chair. A lazy afternoon at the fishin’ hole. A warm bowl of beans and a slice of cornbread. Good neighbors. Hard work. Friends. Family. Church. God. These were the elements of my grandfather’s existence. The beauty of his life can be found in its simplicity.
My grandfather also lived with tremendous sincerity of spirit. I can honestly say I never heard my grandfather say an unkind word about anyone. Many of you have told me he was the most Christ-like person you’ve ever known. He was truly a model of authentic, genuine Christianity. The one thing I’ll always remember about my grandfather is the way he prayed. You could tell that prayer was a path he tread many times. I’ve said this before, but the best sermons I’ve ever heard were the prayers he led before our family meals. As a child, I remember thinking Granddaddy’s prayers weren’t like “church” prayers that went on and on with their big fancy words. His prayers were authentic and heartfelt and humble and simple, a microcosm of his life. Even today, I think of my grandfather’s sincerity every time I pray.
It is a comforting thought, indeed, to know that the goodbye we say today isn’t the final word. If we are people of faith, we know that we too will one day pass from this life to the next and we’ll be reunited on that far distant shore with our family and loved ones who have gone before us. And we know that we, too, will be in the presence of these loved ones and the Lord himself for all eternity.
I believe that my grandfather is in the presence of the Lord this day. His faith has become sight; he is in the presence of the One he worshipped and served, the One he prayed to and emulated. I believe my grandfather is also in the presence of his dear loved ones who preceded him in death. I believe he is finally reunited with the son he buried much too soon. And I believe he is reunited with his bride as well. My grandfather passed away on his 70th wedding anniversary. Roger told him that morning what day it was. And then he whispered in his ear, “Daddy, why don’t you go on home and be with your bride? She’ll be there, waiting on you.” Soon after that, Granddaddy took his last breath and passed on into eternity.
If Granddaddy were here today, I know what he would say. He’d tell us to “Be smart.” Those were the last words my grandfather would usually say to us as we were saying goodbye to him. His goodbyes were always sprinkled with “I love yous” and “Come see us again”, but “Be smart” was probably his favorite expression. What he meant by this was live as you were raised. Be the man we’ve taught you to be. I can’t count the number of times he told me to be a good boy. Listen to your Daddy and your Momma. Do right. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Remember who you are. Remember the Lord your God. It was a simple expression, that’s true. But don’t mistake simple for simplistic. For living by faith is never simplistic. I’ve learned over the years that it takes great courage to live like Granddaddy lived. “Being smart” is a lot tougher than it sounds. But as best I can tell, that makes Granddaddy just about the smartest man I ever knew. Because I’ve never known anyone who was more like Jesus. Be smart. These were always his parting words. It’s fitting, then, that these were the last words he spoke to Roger a few days before he passed away. Let them be his last words for us today as well. Be smart.
So today, we commit William Burford Bybee into the hands of his God. We lay to rest a kind and gentle man. A devoted husband. A loving father. A grandfather and a great-grandfather. The patriarch of our family. His legacy to us is a great one indeed. I am proud to be one of his grandchildren. I am proud to bear the name of this great man. I will teach his great-grandsons to be the kind of man he was. And although my heart hurts that he is no longer with us, I join the rest of our family in the hopeful expectation that we’ll all be reunited on that beautiful shore in the sweet by and by.
And we will remember him always.
Yesterday I received the call that my grandfather passed away. I wrote about his health a few weeks back; the final years of his life were difficult because of
a variety of physical ailments. Although I’m certainly sad that he’s gone, I have to admit to a sense of relief as well. Knowing that he’s no longer in pain is comforting, as is the knowledge that he’s now with the Lord.
Last year I did a series of posts entitled Another Man. I’d read somewhere that in order for a boy to grow into a man, he needs the influence of another man. I spent some time reflecting on the most influential men in my life. I couldn’t help but honor the influence of my grandfather, which I did in a post called Another Man, Number Four. As I read back over that post, I realize that I wrote it exactly one year ago yesterday; a year to the day prior to my grandfather’s passing. Yesterday was also a significant day as it was my grandparents’ anniversary. I’m just taking a guess, but I’d say it was something like 70 years ago yesterday that my grandparents were married. I’d like to think that he’s somehow reunited with her even now. I’d like to think that after 20 years, he’s finally reunited with his son, my father. And I’d like to think they’re all anxiously awaiting our arrival as well.
Tuesday will be one of the great honors of my life: I’ll preach my grandfather’s funeral. Strange as it sounds, I’m looking forward to it. I want the chance to publicly remember my grandfather’s life of enduring faithfulness. I pray that God will give me the strength and the words to adequately memorialize the patriarch of our family.
We all miss you, Grandaddy. But I know we’ll see you again soon.
As a grad school assignment, I read the Gospel of Thomas today. You probably already know this, but the four canonical gospels in our New Testaments are pretty much the tip of the iceberg when it comes to versions of “The Greatest Story Ever Told”. I’d never read the Gospel of Thomas before, much less in one whole sitting. It’s interesting because it’s merely a collection of sayings of Christ. No parables. No miracle stories. No narrative to speak of at all. Just the words of Jesus. What a novel idea.
Of course, these words aren’t considered canonical. I have to admit, it almost felt scandalous reading it. I found myself being really skeptical as I read, thinking things like, “Jesus would never say things like that.” I think the Gospel of Thomas is a considered a Gnostic Gospel, so there are certain passages about special knowledge and things Jesus only reveals to certain people. Not sure what to do with any of that. But today I’m just reflecting on the nature of Scripture and what a leap of faith it is to believe that our “canonical” texts reveal Christ to us.
I guess I’m just thankful today that somebody a long time ago took the time to collect and record all these Jesus stories. Whether people believe them or not (or consider them to be “canonical” or not), we’re indebted to those individuals who have preserved these sacred texts so we can read them and believe.
Today my sweet wife turns 29. I honestly can’t imagine my life without her. She is my best friend, my children’s mother, my sounding board, my confidant. At a ballgame, at the movies, sitting on the couch watching Raymond…it doesn’t matter. I have more fun with her than anyone else. Making her smile is still one of the best things about my life.
I’ve said this before, but it’s the best way I know to describe her to you: she’s the truest person I’ve ever known. She is always genuine, always honest, always sincere. Like Nathanael, there’s no guile in her. And when you’re loved by someone like that — so wholly and completely — it does something to you. You become a better person, a more loving person, just by association. Or maybe osmosis. Who knows.
Here’s a better way to say what I feel: The Bible calls Eve the mother of all the living. Well, Sunny is my Eve, for the part of me that knows how to love and how to be loved came to life when I met her. Her love for me served as a conduit for God’s love in a time when I needed it so desperately. Without her, I wouldn’t know what love was.
I know she deserves so much more. She deserves to have someone write her sonnets. Instead, she got me.
I know who got the better end of that deal.
Sunny Anne, you are the embodiment of God’s grace to me. Your love is the anchor of our family. I’m eternally grateful for your life and your presence in my life. As I read back over these words, they fall so short of what I want to say to you on this day. But these words are all I have. Just know this: I love you and I always will.
About 10 years ago, my friend Scott gave me a copy of a CD by this singer-songwriter that he was just crazy about. “Greatest singer-songwriter of our generation,” he said. As a music-savvy college student, I scoffed at first. I figured this was just hyperbole on my friend’s part. “He can’t be that good,” I thought.
I was wrong.
Michael McDermott is the greatest singer-songwriter of my generation.
His self-titled album that Scott loaned me quickly became one of my all-time favorites. The sweeping, mournful ballad Deirdre Dances is my favorite song ever. A few of the album’s other cuts — Wounded, Bells, My Own Little World — are easily in my personal Top 10. His combination of seasoned musicianship and articulate lyricism are a rare treat in today’s dumbed down Timerlake-and-Fergie saturated pop market. I love his lyrics because he sings of pain & redemption, two themes I’m particularly drawn to. It’s a travesty that Michael McDermott isn’t a household name.
I picked up a copy of McDermott’s latest album Noise From Words a couple weeks ago. It’s far and away my favorite album of the year so far. For you singer-songwriter afficanadoes, you’ll want to check it out. (You can order it here.) I think some of his stuff is available on eMusic. I know his last album, Ashes, is on iTunes. If you love great musci with powerful lyrics, check out McDermott.
Well, the date has been set. On June 11th at 8:30am, Bybee baby #3 will make his debut! That gives us 24 days to come up with a name!!!
Question: do any of you go by your middle name? If so, do you hate your parents for that? I’ve known a couple of people who went by their middle names and they tell me they hate it. Teachers always calling their first name, mail always coming addressed wrong, having to always say, “So and so is my middle name.” Personally, I can’t see how this would be so awful, but then again, Jason is my first name, so I don’t know. Any insight you have would be helpful.
24 days to go!!!
already & not yet 