Reflection: Remembering Franklin Delanor Lambert, Junior

As I sit down to write this post, I'm a little in shock. My mind is swirling with memories--laughter tears, and long, meaningful conversations that won't happen again on this side of eternity. Last night, I learned that one of my oldest friends, and one I had not seen in person for a very long time, died of a heart attack. He had just recently turned 43 years old.

Frank was a proud West Virginian and a proud Mountaineer. He had grown up in some of the hill country of West Virginia (Elkins), and had moved to some of the river country (Parkersburg) our senior year of high school. And while we both knew each other then, we really became good friends our freshman year of college at WVU on the basketball courts and in the residence halls.

Frank had a deep appreciation for music, and probably had the biggest music collection of anyone I have ever known. And he knew the music too--every album--he could tell you about the artist and explain the nuances of the songs. He was a huge fan of all kinds of music from Pearl Jam to Cyprus Hill and just about everything in between. Back in college we would spend hours listening to and talking about the latest albums, and he would be among the first to acquire them at the Discount Den in Morgantown.

Frank and his sister Angie introduced me to the Forest Festival in Elkins, and because of them, I have been able to introduce it to members of my own family as well. Frank was incredibly generous with his time and was always willing to help out a friend in need. When I was installed as a chief in my tribal community nearly 17 years ago, Frank was among a select few friends from outside my tribe who I was privileged to invite to our land and have him witness that historic moment. Frank was a history major in his undergrad too, and so there was something special about having this friend share in a piece of history.

I believe it was through Frank that I discovered just how close Pittsburgh was to Morgantown as he would invite a group of friends to travel with him to explore the city. I can remember many drives to Pittsburgh while we were in school. Frank also believed in being well-dressed. In fact, he and a couple of other friends took me on a "fashion emergency" trip (before it was a thing) because my wardrobe and style could "use some work." We definitely had a lot of awesome road trips together.

And wow, we could spend HOURS on the basketball court. We would play hoops outside til dark, or head to Stansbury Hall (the courts where Jerry West played) and shoot hoops until we got kicked out of the building. In fact, many times we would shoot hoops and then listen to tunes and talk about the games we played--we would even try to come up with creative plays. And actually, there was a time where me, Frank, and my roommate at the time (Andy) got invited to play in a prison by a dude we were playing who happened to be a prison guard at a supermax prison in Pennsylvania. That game was pretty unforgettable--everyone in the prison came out to watch the game with us "outsiders" and we got SMOKED--I think we lost by 30+ points. I have lots of great memories with Frank on the basketball court, and he was a strong athlete.

Frank was always willing to speak truth to me (and to anyone) whether it might hurt or not. He never did it out of malice, but always to help people be better human beings and better friends. I remember one occasion when I had told him that I was going to come to a cookout he was hosting, and as I was walking there I ran into two other groups of friends at two different times, and ended up not making it to the cookout. He called me out for not honoring my word. At the time it really stung because I really valued keeping my word (and I still do). He told me he knew that I had the intention of being there but that if I commit and I don't follow through it hurts people, and that it wasn't the first time I had done it and that he wasn't the only person I had done it to. He told me that other people understood my intentions were good, but that I was hurting my friends and friendships when I didn't follow through and honor my word. Frank made me, and everyone he met a better person.

We went through our share of hardships together. One of the foremost burned into my mind happened during 2006 and 2007. Frank's dad and my mom were both diagnosed with cancer. We would see each other at the hospital often as our parents were going through the last stages of their fights with cancer. And as Frank was watching his dad fight hard in a losing battle against cancer, he was also getting ready to marry the love of his life, Dena. I remember going to their wedding in Ohio, and all of the sadness and joy being swirled together. Frank lost his dad, and I lost my mom within days of each other. Loss is always hard, but enduring it as you are starting a new life with someone and adding to your family is a difficult path to walk. Frank always walked the path bravely though, in every area of life.

Frank was 43 years old. And now his wife, sister, and mom (and many others) are grieving his unexpected death. For my part, I had hoped that we might be able to connect the last time I was in Parkersburg--I was hoping he would be able to meet my daughter and wife. And learning news of his death makes me want to be even more committed to do everything I can to live as long as I can on this earth with Jamie and Sylvia. I know our time of departure from this life is not entirely up to us, but I want to do everything within my power to ensure that my choices are not limiting the quality and quantity of the time I have left.

May we each savor the moments and memories we have, and as we are able, make new ones to cherish and treasure in this life, and Frank, may you rest in peace my brother.

Reflection: Memorial Day Memories And Honoring The Fallen

Today across America families are gathering in city centers for concerts and parades or on area waterways for picnics and barbecues. They are gathering in CrossFit gyms to complete the "Murph" workout, or venturing out to local cemeteries for a time of remembering family members and friends who have made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of others by laying down their lives. Today is a holiday and a day of remembrance filled with a mixture of patriotism and reflection for some. For others it is a day off of work, a day for grilling out, and maybe the start of "vacation season" and the winding down of another school year. 

My earliest personal memories of Memorial Day are rooted in cemeteries. I can remember going with my grandpa, my dad, my mom, my brother and sister, and sometimes a couple of my uncles to tend a family grave plot in a larger cemetery about 20 minutes outside of the town where I grew up. We would drive out in an old pickup truck filled with lawnmowers and trimmers and us. We would cut the grass all around a what seemed at the time an infinitely large section of the graveyard. We would make these trips through the spring and summer, but in late May we would also lay out flowers and other tokens of remembrance for generations of ancestors.

I learned a lot during those care-taking times during my childhood. Some very old family and Shawnee cultural traditions were passed along to me--traditions that taught respect, honor, and service. We would never walk on graves, and we would never remove anything from the cemetery. In addition to certain etiquette around graves, we also made it a point to visit graves during the weekend of memorial day and to decorate the graves of all of our relatives with garlands, flowers, and flags--regardless of how those relatives left this world. Too seldom in our busy "modern" world do we take time to reflect and to remember all of those who have gone before us and wore down the paths over which we freely walk today. 

Although many uncles, great uncles, and older family members served, I was too young to know any who had made the ultimate sacrifice in combat. But, as I have grown older, my life has placed me in contact with a number of friends who have served in various capacities in our military. Again, thankfully, I have not lost any of my close friends in military combat, but I know many of them have lost loved ones in the line of service. Most of the year, we give very little thought to what our service men and women and the families of the fallen may be carrying all year long every year. Organizations like Carry The Load are helping to encourage us to take time to reflect on those who have fallen, their families, and their friends. 

Today, maybe you are traveling to visit a family grave plot, attempting a "Murph" workout, or maybe just enjoying a day away from the workplace. Regardless of the place this day may find you, may we each take at least a moment to honor the fallen and those who have gone before us. They deserve so much more than a moment, as do their families and friends, but even a moment of reflection is better than no reflection at all. May we each take a moment to hug those close to us, weep as appropriate, and fill our hearts with gratitude that we each continue to have the privilege of moving forward and ensuring that the ancient paths are free and clear for another generation.

Reflection: Visiting Fort Frederick's 22nd Annual Market Fair

Last weekend, Jamie and I had the privilege of traveling from Morgantown to Fort Frederick (near Big Pool, MD) with our friends Dan and Lori. The entire day was filled with memories to savor, and new ones to be made. There's something heart-warming about taking a road trip with friends in the first place, but this was the first extended period of time we had together for a long time. Dan and I grew up together, and so the drive was a mix of laughter over old memories and adventures, and in depth discussions about what is happening in our lives right now. An automobile, with no screens and no music is a great place for these types of discussions, but walking together in a park is even better, and that is EXACTLY what we did upon arrival at Fort Frederick.

Fort Frederick State Park has hosted Market Fair for 22 years, and I have probably attended about half of those years. My old chief used to love going to the event because the focus of the weekend was the French and Indian War (Seven Years War) era frontier. The event is a large rendez-vous and historic reenactment weekend with individuals donning the attire of British troops, militia, settlers, and some First Nations peoples wearing traditional regalia. Back in the 90s, going with my chief was like going with a celebrity. Everybody seemed to know him, and enjoyed having him stop by their weekend lodging. Hundreds of canvas tents scattered around the stone fort and these become the homes of participants for four or five days during the event.

Many of these participants are also artisans who specialize in various primitive skills. Every year when I go, I love seeing a variety of incredibly talented gunsmiths, knife smiths, blacksmiths, tailors, tanners, tobacconists, potters, silversmiths, and more. Some of the participants have spent weeks and months making absolutely beautiful quill work designs (they even dye the porcupine quills using traditional dyes). Still others make large belts of wampum, weaving the beads by hand.

In the early years of Market Fair, I remember my chief was brought in as a consultant for a group of Native American re-enactors who were interested in constructing a traditional eastern woodlands village. The photo above was taken at the edge of the woods where this village once stood--I participated in a wedding out on that. A number of native people from the region, including a strong contingent from our Native student group at WVU, would make the annual trek for Market Fair to trade, to find traditional wares, and to connect with other folks from various tribes as well as with other people who simply had a deep appreciation for history and simple living. For many years, this event served as an unofficial and unplanned reunion for many of us. We spent many evenings around the campfire swapping stories and drumming and singing very, very old songs and sometimes writing new ones.

This year was probably the busiest Market Fair I can remember. There were multiple overflow parking areas when we arrived at 1130AM. There's something to be said for perseverance, tradition, and time. This event has grown huge over the years. And, like every other time I have traveled to it, there was an unofficial and unplanned reunion. This year, it was with one of my former roommate's parents, Mark and Debbie Culp. Of course we had to take a group photo and send it off to their son Nic. We were able to enjoy a meal together, and I was able to introduce them to Dan and Lori as well as give them an update on the latest happenings with Nuru. Nic's parents have a love for wilderness, for traditional skills, and for history, but it was their first time visiting Market Fair--they LOVED it!

I highly recommend stopping by Market Fair if you find yourself near western Maryland in late April. The event itself has a longstanding tradition, and you never know who you might run into there. There's something really beautiful about meeting and connecting with individuals who are keeping old ways alive, and who are incredibly dedicated to their craft. There's also refreshment to be found by taking a step away from screens and devices for a few hours to breathe in the fresh air, and to engaging in the quickly fading art of conversation. May you find time and space in this hurried world to slow down and enjoy people and the beauty of the outdoors.

Reflection: Bonfires and Bonding

This year at our Nuru all-staff summit, we started a new tradition, or maybe we continued an older tradition in a new format. We gathered around a fire on the first night of our summit, and shared stories of ways in the past year different members of the team stepped forward and went above and beyond to carry the mission forward. This time of celebrating wins was not entirely new at Nuru, but, the bonfire was.

Sitting around that fire and enjoying some pizza and solid conversations and catch-up times with teammates as the sound of Pacific waves crashed in the darkness beyond us brought back several other memories for me. Back when I was more actively engaged in my tribal community, we would circle up around what we called "Indian-TV" or more specifically "Shawnee-TV" and conduct similar activities. We would enjoy meals, catch-up with one another, share stories, and laugh together as we enjoyed the dance of the fire/"TV" before us. My understanding is that our staff living in Ethiopia and Kenya also have fire pits around which they gather fairly often.

My tribe has a New Year's ceremony (not in January) in which the nation's fire is stamped out to signal the close of the old year and the start of the new year (there's much more to the ceremony, but this is one key element). As the fire is stamped out, individuals are encouraged to make amends, to forgive, and to leave the hurts of the previous year in the past. In this way each year starts with a clean slate.

I can remember heading out to one of my old roommate Lucas Harriman's family home in West Virginia during my undergraduate years too. We would gather about indoors, eat a ton of buckwheat cakes and pizza while simultaneously downing pot after pot of coffee, and then we would make our way outside to a fire pit, and gather around to sing praises to the Creator of the universe, share testimonies of what He was teaching us, and even take time to pray for one another.

I've always thought about a fire as a tool for survival, a place to keep warm, and a place to cook food and share meals, but in reality a fire represents a gathering place, and in some regard, the breath and life of a community. It's no wonder that people talk about relationships ending as "fires going out" or even of death in a similar fashion "their fire burnt out too early."

While I know that there are modern equivalents for gathering spaces, I can't help but think that a fire as a gathering space is unparalleled, especially a fire in the night. The fire calls us away from the darkness, calls us to warmth and laughter, and allows us to see one another more clearly rather than only seeing shadows.

Do you have any fireside memories? May we each make a practice of spending time together with others around a fire, and celebrate community, warmth, and connectedness.

Remembering My Aunt Rosemary

It was late Sunday evening January 19th when I was able to talk to my Uncle Bill. He, my cousins, their children, and their pastor had gathered at the hospital to wait. Aunt Rosemary was taken to the hospital earlier in the day with critical vitals, and doctors had just said that my aunt was septic, and that her systems were slowly going to be shutting down. And now, as you read this, my aunt has left this world to be with her King Jesus.

As I prayed with my uncle over the phone Sunday night, I burst into tears. Not because my aunt was not destined for a better place, but because of the great void she will leave behind here. My mind flooded with an incredible array of memories of my aunt and the way she cared for me and so many others.

My family's loss is heaven's gain. My aunt fought a number of illnesses during the years I knew her, but that's just the thing. She fought. She fought the good fight and finished the race. There was a point in time a few years ago, that the doctors had said she was dying, but she fought back to stay because she wanted more time with her family and people she loved.

Aunt Rosemary was always quick to open her home and give generously of her resources to help others. For several years, she and Uncle Bill supported the work I was doing with Great Commission Ministries, and I know she supported many other activities in the area. She always opened her home and made sure that my cousins' children, Brandon and Liz, always had a safe environment for themselves and their friends from school to hang out.

Aunt Rosemary was very proud of her sons and her family members for their accomplishments, and LOVED having visitors. I can remember many visits, even when my aunt wasn't feeling well, when she would hear the voices of company in the living room of the house, she would rally the energy to come visit, sit for a spell, and catch up with folks.

While Aunt Rosemary is already with Jesus, it is my prayer that those of us she left behind would continue to honor her legacy of love for God, compassion, and hospitality. The world could use more people who live the quality life of character of my Aunt Rosemary.

Getting Back Into The Groove

You know, sometimes people stop writing for lack of content or inspiration. For me, it has been a bit of the opposite. I feel like there has been so much going on in recent weeks that it makes it hard to determine where to start with writing. I look back on the experiences Jamie and I have walked through together over the last few months, and they have been unbelievable. We have seen many old friends and family members, mourned with some and rejoiced with others. We have journeyed through eight states and even made a short journey across our nation's northern border to Niagara Falls. We have engaged people to join our efforts to fight extreme poverty with Nuru, and begun our own training for running a marathon.

And I have been reading. Early in the morning and late at night. I find myself striving to learn more, grow more, and become the best version of myself I can be. I have been riding a bike, running, and even flirted with the idea of joining a gym so I could make my shape less 'round'. We visited old tribal friends, including my tribes oldest living member as we celebrated one of our younger members getting married. We have spent time in large cities and reclaimed strip mines.

It has been an incredible period. So much to write about, but I've found it hard to slow down to do the actual writing. But tonight, as tiredness began to set in, I decided that I the only way I'm going to get back into the groove is to just do it. It's just too easy to put off just about anything until tomorrow. Whether it is starting a diet, a fitness regimen, or writing a blog post, it is all easy to put off until the future.

But sometimes you've just gotta jump in and start doing things. There's no way I could sit down and write about all of my experiences and momentary reflections over the past few months in one sitting, but I can make a decision and write something. We can all start some new habit today and begin cultivating it. We can resume habits that we let go lax as well.

Is there a habit, a goal, or a discipline you have been putting off? Is it hard to find the time for it? While this may sound violent, I am of the opinion that there are times when we have to fight lethargy and inertia to begin to cultivate a habit. May we each make the time to persevere toward goals, and to take small steps toward resuming habits and cultivating new ones. The world needs people who are driven and who are pursuing good habits and goals. Let's go for it!

Thanksgiving Reflections

Last Friday while looking out the window at Lake Floyd I enjoyed a brief period of reflection from one of the many places Jamie and I are thankful to call home. We've been incredibly blessed with loving families, with a wonderful community, and with each other.

More than this, we have been able to give our time and energy to meaningful work, to loving our neighbors, and toward a way of living that attempts to scratch the surface of the beautiful way of Jesus of Nazareth.


Today I slept in, and stayed away from the special sales, the shortages, the lines, and the hustle and bustle. As G. K. Chesterton once said, "There are two ways to get enough: one is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less. There are many "things" that we can acquire, and, living in this period of amazing innovations, those 'things' can be pretty cool, but they pale in comparison to the people with whom we get to spend our lives.

Each year at Thanksgiving, whether I write about it or not, I try to carve out some time to look at just a few of the blessings I have received in this relatively short life. I actually try to do this more often than thanksgiving just because I think there is a value in seeing how much we truly have.


We get marketed many times daily and told about so many things that will "make our life better", but my limited experience (I'm still a young learner on the journey of life) tells me that the 'things' that make our life better are not what people lined up at stores for on Friday morning.


Rather, what makes our life better is a dedication to things like work we find meaningful, to people we love, a sense of purpose in our lives, and an opportunity to serve others rather than be served. This is an amazing world in which we live. I believe that it is filled with treasures that we tend to ignore while looking for something more. As the author Annie Dillard once quipped, "It is a poor person indeed who can't stop to pick up a penny." It's not an easy task, especially with so many entities selling us on other ideas of joy and happiness that aren't nearly as satisfying. My temptation is to write explicitly about what some of these treasures are, but I feel like I may never end this post as I start. Besides, I think there is way more excitement and adventure for each of us if we go out into our world with eyes wide open looking to discover what treasures we may be stumbling over just outside our doors or in our everyday routines.


As we are all amid the throes of the holiday season, I hope you are surrounded by people you love, and that you don't take for granted the little treasures that surround you. Stop, pick them up like pennies, and savor the moments of discovery, of laughter, of healing, and of togetherness.

The Place

Back in April 2010 I went to visit some folks from my tribe who live along the Ohio River. Me and my best friend in the whole world, Willie, picked up some tobacco as per our tribal tradition while on our way (you should always bring some form of tobacco as a gift when visiting an elder or spiritual leader), since we were visiting the oldest living elder of our tribe.  His name is Flying Duck, and he is the brother of our tribe’s former principle chief.  He and his sons are pretty amazing artisans, and in particular he and one of his sons work with silver.

The reason for our visit was twofold.  The first reason was because Flying Duck is an elder, and regrettably for both Willie and myself it had been far too long since we last visited him.  The second reason was because I was hoping to ask him and his son if they could make an engagement/wedding band for me to offer Jamie as I asked for her hand in marriage.  Shawnee people have a long tradition in silver-work, and for many other tribes, the word used to describe the Shawnee meant “the silver people.”

As Willie and I drove the narrow country road that led away from the Ohio River along a small stream on Rush Run Road, my mind flooded with memories.  We had driven this road many times before to visit Flying Duck and other Shawnee who lived in the area.  We had roofed a house there, gone to church there, attended funerals there, and on many occasions sat in the house where Flying Duck and Raincrow grew up.

Every time I visit, I sit down in an old wooden chair that sat next to an old wooden table in the dining room, and sometimes, Flying Duck talk about the table and chair. Shawnee people love to tell stories. "Billy, a lot of very deeply spiritual people have sat at that table.  Many of the most committed Christians I have ever known have sat exactly where you are sitting.  Raincrow, my grandmother, and my mother have all sat in that space.  We’ve hosted missionaries, preachers and others and they have sat right here at that table for meals.  Have you ever heard of Dr. Alexander Reed? Dr. Alexander Reed was a missionary to Africa and he had a huge crush on my mother.  Lot’s of men did because she was beautiful, and very godly.  Every time Dr. Alexander Reed would return from Africa, he would come visit for Sunday dinner after church and would share stories with our family of his missions in Africa.  Lot’s of powerful Christians have sat where you sit Billy, and it’s an honor to have you sit there too!”

And so we would sit and listen and share stories.  It’s a bit of the Indian way.  On this trip, it was more of the same, and although Flying Duck and his son felt they would be unable to help me make a unique ring, we certainly enjoyed catching up, and sharing stories.  I remember my drive back to Columbus with Willie, and just how nostalgic we had become from our visit to a place and to people with whom we had many special memories.

As I talked with Jamie about it the next day, it sparked a question.  “Where’s the most special place on earth for you, where you have a lot of memories and good times?”

Her response, “I’d have to say Lake Floyd.  It’s the place where I grew up, and it is really special to me.”

I thought, then spoke “Well, is there any place in particular around the lake that is particularly special for you? It’s kind of a big place.”

“The middle of the lake, I used to love rowing out there and sitting—it’s just so quiet and peaceful.”

And that’s when I knew that when I asked Jamie to marry me, it was going to be in the middle of Lake Floyd…

And what about you?  What are some special and sacred places for you?

Sala Thai Restaurant Bethesda

Before leaving the greater Washington DC area last week, I made one final stop. The location was a Thai restaurant called Sala Thai. I was first introduced to this restaurant (and Thai food in general) by the former principal chief of my tribe, Chief Joseph Raincrow. The year was 1996, and at that time it was called Thai Place. It's undergone multiple name changes over the years, but it's always served really high quality and affordable food.

My personal favorites are their Tom Kha Gai (Coconut Soup) and Chicken Pad Thai. I have many vivid memories of ordering take-out and taking it back to my Chief's house for a meal together, but the restaurant space is pretty incredible too. They actually have live music on some nights, so it makes for a great space to go and enjoy music and food.

If you ever find yourself in Bethesda, Maryland I highly recommend stopping by Sala Thai and giving it a try.

Mulberries and Memorial Day

IMG_0211, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

This morning, as I made my walk from the house to downtown Morgantown to begin a day of planning, writing, and strategy for Nuru I walked by a mulberry tree. Of course I walk by this tree along with a few others every day, but right now, mulberries are on the tree and fully ripe. Mulberries are a personal favorite of mine because they take me back to the place I grew up on 15th street in Parkersburg, WV. I filled my mouth with a small handful of mulberries, closed my eyes for a moment, and I was carried back to my childhood home.
When I was small, I can remember there being a concrete walkway in the back of our house (I’ve heard that this house was once a farmhouse, and being that it was built with a root cellar, I tend to believe it). That concrete walkway would get stained with mulberries every spring. It was one of the prime indicators that the school year was about to end, and my summertime fun was about to ensue.
I don’t think my mom ever made pies from the mulberries (we had a small grove of cherry trees on our land that we used for pies), I can remember eating mulberries until my stomach was full for about a week each May.
I also remember an old piece of barge rope my brother salvaged from along the Ohio River. When I was five or six years old, he climbed really far up into the mulberry tree and hung the barge rope to make a swing for us to play on. At the time, it felt like he was climbing fifty feet into the sky, but it was probably more like fifteen feet. He tied the bottom of the rope into a knot so people had something they could sit on. (Because I was smaller than everyone else, he had to tie the knot much lower to the ground than most wanted.
We had a four foot tall fence that went around our property, and my dad built a gate where the rope swing hung. You see, the tree was on the edge of our property, and the limb that the rope hung was situated perfectly in front of the gate. The gate also opened into a field that was part of my grandparents property. That field served as a football field, soccer field, baseball/wiffleball field and the prime location for catching lightning bugs (fireflies).
I think back to those times, and life seemed infinitely less complex. My brother and my dad were superhuman, and there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish (I actually still believe that about both of them!) My sister and my mom, were two of the most compassionate people I knew (still true!) and my life was filled with love from my family and an enjoyment of simple things like a rope swing and mulberries staining the pavement and my hands as I picked them to fill my belly with joy.
As we begin this memorial day weekend, I hope you can take a moment and journey back to your past and to some good memories. Where did you play? What brought you the greatest joy? Who were your heroes? It’s always good to take time to remember and reflect, particularly on weekends like Memorial Day Weekend.

One Time . . .

One Time . . ., originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

your dad took me to Denny's . . .

I love my best friend in the whole world, Willie! We watched this movie a while back called Smoke Signals. The movie was actually recommended by another friend, Mark Darling.

This movie is essentially a movie about friends, about family, and about telling good stories. It's a road trip movie, but it is so much more. It's a movie about being American Indian in the present day as well. Seems like most Indian movies place folks back in history, but Willie and my dad, they are a couple of contemporary Indians.

So anyway, in the movie there's a scene where one of the characters tells the story of when another character's dad took him to denny's. Willie has been dreaming of the moment when this could come true for Him. It happened this past Saturday . . .

It was probably made even more cool in the fact that I wasn't there. From now on, Willie can tell the story of when my dad took him to denny's and the only way I'll know about the details is through his stories.

I imagine he had the grand slam breakfast with Juice! because that's part of the movie, but I'm sure there's more to the story.

And that's the bigger picture. We all have stories that we can tell and that we are part of. There's a great big story that all of creation is part of, and only when we share with one another, do we get to have a more robust picture of how the individual threads of the story come together.

As you go through your day, realize that your life and your day is a story worth telling. And the cool thing is that the way you live it informs the details. So live in such a way that you have a good story to tell. A good story has it's share of struggle and difficulty, but it also has laughter and joy.

Live the story God has written you into passionately!!! It is my prayer that as you read this, perhaps a new chapter will come alive for you, or perhaps an old memory will come to mind, and next time we get together you'll be able to share.

And it will go something like this,

"One time . . ."

Bear Creek

Bear Creek, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

This past weekend I found myself in Garrett County, Maryland for a leadership retreat that included about 40 people from my church. Garrett County, and Friendsville in particular have a special place in my heart. Here is where my tribe has land. Here is where I experienced intense and wonderful mentoring in Jesus and the Bible. Here is where I saw many others come to know the beautiful life that comes from following Christ. Here is where I was groomed for years to take a position of leadership in my tribe.

So as the retreat ended, I stopped down in friendsville and grabbed a cup of coffee with cream and brown sugar (it's something I learned from an old friend of mine). The place where I got the coffee (with a few friends from the retreat) used to be called Twila's Old Mill Restaurant. It's now called Jubilee Junction, and the whole place is changed. To be honest, it's a really nice place with reasonably priced food and if you are ever in the area you should check it out--they even have free wifi!!!

There was a couple eating in another booth who brought us in a jar of nectarine jam so we could put it on our food. Only we weren't getting food, so I asked the server if we could buy some toast--she just gave us a plate full of toast. Although the restaurant was different, it was a pleasant new memory to make in a town that is chock full of memories for me.

After our coffee, toast, and jam, I took a few friends down to our old tribal swimming hole in Bear Creek. That's where I took the photo. That's our swimming hole. After hot days of working, and hot days of ceremonies, and just hot days in general, we'd always make a trip down to bear creek and take a dip in the cool mountain water.

As I stood there with this group of leaders I began to share memories of this little place. Just below the bottom right corner of this photo is the place where I was baptized back in 1997. (To this day, I'm the only person I know who was baptized in a breech-cloth). I was baptized in that stream with about seven other people including a former jehovah's witness, a satanist, a witch, and a former drug addict. Lives were being changed among and around the shawnee people!!!

In the upper left of the photo is a big rock. That big rock is really special. That's the place where me and my best friend on the planet prayed one day and Jesus met us in a special way on that rock. It wasn't the day of salvation for us, but Jesus touched both of us in such a special way that we began to see our sin and our complacency in a way that we hadn't been able to before.

But you know what, that's what this little stream has always been for me. It's been a place of transformation. It's been a place where I go that each time I'm confronted with my sin and immersed in the great love of Jesus. I don't think I can spend time at this little swimmin' hole and baptismal and be the same.

Even when we would come down to swim, there's such a difference in temperature that it truly feels like a different world.

I'm tempted to write for a while about this little place and all of the memories that I had with my Shawnee people here, but any of them who read this blog will probably remember even more than me.

For me, just being near that stream was balm for my soul. It brought back many beautiful memories.

I don't know if you have a place like this--an old hang out spot, or place where you shared many good memories with friends. If you do, try to go there sometime soon. Go back and walk through those memories. And if you can't drive there--go there in your mind. Remember the good times, the laughter, the tears, and the tender moments.

May your life be transformed today by beautiful memories!!!

Memories

Memories, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

I'm not sure when this picture was originally taken, or who the original photographer was. It's a photograph of me, Willie's wife, and his daughter standing outside our M'si Kah-miqui (Tribal Council House) in Maryland.

Saturday, I hung out with Willie and his family and I saw this picture, and I just thought it was awesome. There weren't any other pictures in the album we were looking at that had any relation to our tribal grounds.

It's kind of weird seeing an image like this and remembering how very important our Shawnee heritage is to each of us and it rekindles a desire to make sure that our culture gets passed on. It also reminds me of how beautiful our culture and our history has been. God definitely touched many lives through our time together on "the mountain" and gave us a richer appreciation of our faith.

My mom used to love going up on our tribal grounds for ceremonies, and so did my dad. But since my resignation from my chieftainship, it just hasn't been the same.

But at least there are memories and photographs--and even more there are ceremonies. Ceremonies that point us to King Jesus, the one who gives every good and perfect gift.

And traditions continue too. For instance, my brother recently received his name. Manitou Thee-po-wa-Thee. He waited a long time for his name, and he and I went about getting the name through honoring ancient traditions--like prayer.

You know there are many ancient traditions that we forget about every day. Studying the scripture, prayer, fasting, celebration, and worship are just a few. My challenge to you today is to soak in one of those ancient traditions, allow your memory to go back to a point in time when God did something beautiful in your life--remember and give thanks, celebrate and worship.

Where I Used to Get My Game On

Where I Used to Kick It, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

As we walked around Parkersburg today, we walked by an old basketball court at the city park. I used to play basketball here every day as soon as school let out. I would play until dinner time, or dark, whichever came first.

I like the way this photo turned out.

I remember playing 33 with Willie here a few years ago. He beat me. He reminded me as we walked along today. My dad got a kick out of that.

Do you have any old stomping grounds where you used to do things? It's good to go back to those places from time to time and see how they have changed or remained the same.

Parkersburg has changed alot, but this court hasn't changed all that much. It's a beautiful park. It's just a shame nobody really uses it to play basketball anymore.

The Drive By

This morning, while en route to Thomas, WV, I rode by my tribe's land. It was weird. I started feeling sick. I was flooded with emotions. It was the first time I had been by the area since 2004. I didn't stop because I was in somebody else's car. It was a bit overwhelming, the whole experience.

The best comparison I can think of is driving by an ex-romantic interest's house. It's like going by a place where there are so many memories, and as you go by, you are gripped with the emotions of all of the memories, good and bad. Then you are also gripped with the reality that you can't ever go back. That is a painful reality to deal with.

I'm still reeling from the experience. I would appreciate prayers for the Shawnee people. My heart breaks over the reality of what is, when I think about what could be, and what once was.

What's really sweet is that the whole rest of the day was awesome. It was just a lot of fun to be on the road with cool people, and they were willing to listen to me walk through my gut-trauma during the day.

It just hit me as I was writing--God went there before me. And He has been there with me all along.

1st marriage

Saturday, june 18th, 2005. Brett and Amanda Jo Huffman were joined in holy matrimony. I officiated--can you believe it? From all that I heard, I even did a good job. It was a fun day for all of us, and I was definitely privileged to be able to be part of their special day. There is something wonderful about sharing in a day like this with friends like these two. It will be a day remembered for all of my life.

Wow, I love those two!