Rubbing the Lipstick In

Mom went to be with Jesus almost a year ago.  This is my first Mother’s Day without her here.  Emotions are already a little close to the surface, and then the other night hit. This might sound like the start to a sad blog, but stick with me.

For Christmas, my sister took on an amazing labor of love, and made pillows out of some of my mom’s shirts for her siblings, nieces and nephews.  We all love these, including my youngest, who has gone to bed hugging it many nights.  He also likes to smell the pillow, as it reminds him of my mom – his “NaliMa”.

The other night, as Sara was about to leave his room, I heard him start crying, and the tears just kept on coming.  Through his tears, I heard him say, “Her smell is gone.” Yeah, those “close to the surface” emotions broke through – for Joshua, and for his daddy.

During this stretch – Mother’s Day and then Mom’s one-year anniversary of meeting Jesus face-to-face (on May 16th) – I think all of us who love Mom have our own ways of remembering her.  Whether it’s smell, pictures, videos, or just thinking back on countless memories, there is much to remind us of how amazing she was.

For me, one of the biggest memories is what she told me back when I was in Junior High. Mom often wore this striking red lipstick.  She made a bit of a sport out of planting a kiss on our cheek, and there remained the mark of the red lipstick.  One time, she did that when I was about to see some friends.  If you’ve known a 13-year-old boy, you can imagine my reaction.

I started rubbing off that lipstick as fast as I could.  And then came those words from Mom – “Brad, you don’t rub off your MamIMG_3398a’s kisses.  You rub them IN!

So that’s what I started doing.  I wouldn’t swipe at my cheek, but I would gently rub those kisses in.

And as I grew, I learned in even greater ways how important that idea was – not just with the red lipstick, but with the life lessons my mom was teaching me.  These weren’t just lessons when I was young.  These were lessons being taught until the very day she left this earth.  And even incredibly valuable lessons since.

My mom taught me so many things.  She modeled generosity, she exemplified unconditional love, and she taught me how to treat others like Jesus would.  She taught me integrity, the importance of looking at issues from all angles, and the essential of standing for what is right, even if others don’t love when you do.

The things Mom taught me could honestly fill many books, as I know is true with many who were blessed to know her.  But when it’s all said and done, I am forever grateful that this young, immature boy learned early on to not rub off Mom’s lessons, but to rubMoms kiss them in.  Sure, some took longer to sink in, and some I’m still learning, but her life-well-lived has made me a better husband, father, servant, leader and friend.

So, as we deal with the sadness of not having Mom here, and as I help walk my children through the days of her ‘smell’ being gone, I am so grateful that I have what truly matters.  I can now share with the next generation the countless things Mom taught me, and can love them like she loved me…like Jesus.

“Her children arise and call her blessed…” (Proverbs 31:28)

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30)

“The faithful love of the LORD never ends!  His mercies never cease.  Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning.” (Lamentations 3:22-23)

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Worthless Steps

After wondering what all the hubbub was about, I finally took the plunge.  Yes, a coupKnight Riderle of months ago, I became the proud owner of a Fitbit.  Sure, we could debate whether I bought this for noble purposes, or if I bought it strictly to pretend I was Michael Knight talking to K.I.T.T., but I digress.

This investment has been really good for me as I seek to keep on the weight loss trail.  It’s not that I wasn’t exercising before, but each day, I find myself wanting to ‘beat the Fitbit’ in whatever category.  I mean, really, who wants to be bested by a machine, especially one that fits on your wrist?!

The other day, I made the ginormous error of leaving the house without putting on my Fitbit.  As I walked around town a bit, and as I did the Walmart ‘dance’ of crisscrossing the store repeatedly, the thought hit – “Oh man!  All this walking doesn’t even count.  These are worthless steps!”.  

Yes, I quickly came to my senses.  The steps I was taking were good.  They were helping me.  Just because I wasn’t wearing the fancy-schmancy tech gear on my wrist didn’t mean the steps were worthless.  I just have gotten used to seeing with my own eyes how much my steps matter.

After I got back home in K.I.T.T. – um, I mean our family car – I found myself thinking about the steps I take as a husband and dad.  I thought about how I don’t want to take any ‘worthless’ steps in the areas of my life I treasure more than any amount of gold.  I thought how helpful it would be to have a Fitbit showing me the impact of my steps.

And as the proof ran towards me when I came in the door, I realize that I do.  There is no place else that I can see how my steps as a dad and husband matter than in Sara and my three incredible children.  Each day, I can see in their faces if I’m getting it right, or if I’m missing the mark.

I can directly see when I am taking worthless steps – choosing a Yankees’ game over helping with the dishes, keeping my phone too close when my son wants to tell me about his day, playing video games those few extra minutes too long.  And I can definitely see it in those same faces when I’m making my steps matter!  It shows in the faces of those I dearly love, and I feel it in my own heart.

The longer I walk with Jesus, the more attuned I am to the internal “GPS” He has given me.  It’s His voice that tells me what is the best use of my time, how to be the best dad I can be, how to love SarPsalm 37 23 pica the way she deserves.  And it’s a fantastic feeling when my head hits the pillow that night and I hear Jesus whisper, “Good job today”, and then as He challenges me to do even better the next day.

So, I guess it’s pretty simple – whether when I’m out walking, or focused on my family, I want my steps to count!


What’s in a Name?

I like baseball.  A lot!  I’m one of those guys that has a countdown until pitchers and catchers report for Spring Training each year.  This year, there was an extra treat of the World Baseball Classic.  That’s where teams representing several different countries square off to see who can win it all.  And, spoiler alert, Team USA won the 2017 WBC title!

As the scene unfolded after the final out, one of the outfielders was ecstatic as he ran into the celebratory fray.  As he sprinted across the field, he kept pointing to thwbc usa 2e “USA” on the front of his jersey.  This all-star level player who makes millions upon millions wasn’t pointing to the name on the back, or talking about himself in post-game interviews.  It was all about the name on the front of the jersey.

Now, this is something the greatest coaches have talked about for years.  Google holds many quotes from coaches saying, “The name on the front of the jersey is more important than the name on the back!”.

This all got me thinking about the different names I might have on the back of my jersey – Dad, husband, provider, defender, department director, son, brother, uncle, friend… I know a lot of people with a lot of different ‘names’.  We each play several roles in life, and some more than others.

But what about the namename word cloud 3 on the front of the jersey?  Where does my identity really land?

Sure, it could be whatever role I like the most.  Or it could simply be “Brad” or “Hutchcraft”.  I dig both of those.  For some, it might be their job where they find the most meaning.  For others, their religion, or even their politics.

Playing for Team USA must have been memorable for these men.  But soon, they will be back playing for their regular team.  Logos of the Yankees, Rangers, Cubs, Dodgers, will be proudly worn once again.  Earlier in life, I changed ‘jerseys’ too many times, playing for someone different each day.

And then…Jesus.  He changed everything!  That’s the name that I proudly wear now.  It’s the name that all my other titles come under.  At least that’s the goal.  It’s the only name that I know will last.  Jesus.

It’s not about a set of rules, or a specific church, or whatever ‘religion’ that might come to mind.  And it’s certainly not about a political party!  It’s about this relationship that I started many years ago.  I was created to have a relationship with God.  The Bible says it best – I was “created by Him and for Him”.  We all were.  But I tried running my life my way instead, and I didn’t do a very good job.  Fortunately, God sent His Son, Jesus, to pay my penalty so I could have a chance at real life.  Eternal life with the One who created me.  I just had to choose Him.  So I did, and that has made all the difference.

Those other names?  I really like them.  I love being a dad, a husband, a friend, and the list goes on.  But those things can be challenging at times, and I wouldn’t be very good at them if not for the name on the front of the jersey.  For me to get it right, I’m going to stick with the strongest name there is:

“The name of the LORD is a strong tower…”(the Bible)

My Painted Tree

We have a tree in our yard that is one of my favorite things.  Sure, a tree might be no big deal to some, but it means a lot to me.  I have always loved the changing of seasons, especially seeing the leaves change color each autumn.  I think it started with the story my mom and dad would tell me growing up.  They would tell us that the angels came out to paint the leaves at night when the weather got cooler.  That was always such a cool picture to me.  It didn’t help me ace my science exams, but still a memorable story from my childhood.

I love seeing the changing colors of the leaves, but I haven’t always been able to do that.

In 1996, I moved to where God called me – a Native American reservation in Arizona.  God said “Go”, and I went.  I lived there until September 2010.  These were absolutely amazing years with some of the most incredible people you’d ever meet.  But, if you know much about, well, the desert, you know tall trees with leaves are kinda tough to come by.img_5669

For almost 15 years, autumn came and went without seeing much color.  Sure, there were times I’d be driving out of state and see some of the leaves, but didn’t get to see the unfolding handiwork of the “angels painting”.

When God said “Go” again in 2010, my wife and I started looking for a house in a new place.  Having lived in other peoples’ spaces for many years, we definitely had a list of things we were looking for.  We had ideas about a yard (mowing lawns wasn’t a big business in AZ), a basement (moving to tornado country), and other things.  However, nowhere on the list was a tree.  Of course, we wanted trees, but we didn’t have specifics in mind.

A few weeks after we moved, the angels started painting.  The area around us lit up with color, and it was amazing.  But no tree was amazing as my tree…and that is true to this day.  See, even though we didn’t know it, God led us to a house that has a tree right next to it that turns an amazing red every fall.  Without fail, it’s one of the first to get ‘painted’, and one of the last to lose all its color.

As I drove out of my driveway the other day, I put the car in park and just looked.  It was stunning!  The way the sun was hitting the leaves, the bright red of the leaves.  Stunning.  And I was overwhelmed with God’s faithfulness.  I have seen His handiwork time and time again – in hospital rooms, in financial provision when funds were so tight, in bringing Sara and me together.  But I see it in what many would call the ‘small things’, too.

And I see it in my painted tree.  God knew how much that tree would mean to me.  We looked at some good houses when we were searching, but it was clear this was the one for our family.  God is so good.  He picked that house for us, and He grew that tree, and He sends His angels to paint those leaves year-after-year, bringing a smile to my face.

He’s faithful to me, He’s faithful to our family, and God – who created you, too – will be faithful to you. The Bible says it best: “For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations” (Psalm 100:5). It might not always look like what you think it should look like, but God’s got a painted tree waiting for you, too.

Where everybody knows your name

I’m always fascinated by the things in my life that trigger the feeling of “home”.  This isn’t about four walls and a roof, but more the sense of familiarity.  The old song said, “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.”  There are places where maybe only a couple of people know you, or maybe no one but your family, but because of the memories, it at least seems like someone may come up, put a hand on your shoulder, and say, “Good to have you back!”.

My family is visiting one of those places this week.  I have a lot of wonderful, cherished memories here.  My mom and dad brought us here when we were little.  My wife and I came here as part of our honeymoon.  We brought our kids here a few years ago.  And now, we’re back to create new memories.  But everywhere we step, each place we walk into, the air is flooded with that familiar feeling of being, in a sense, home.

There are lots of things that can trigger those moments – a memory-filled place, a pleasing smell, the look in your child’s eye, or simply the people you love more than your heart could ever express through clumsy words.  It can be something small or something big, but whatever it is, these emotions often seem to take me by surprise.

I’ve left a piece of my heart in many places over the years, where the marks of special memories have been left, and I think that’s why no place feels completely like home.  Don’t get me wrong – I love my family more than I feel my heart can hold, and that love truly seems to grow every day.  And yes, I have these “temporary homes” where fragrant memories fill the air.  At the same time, they all feel just that – temporary.

Growing up, my parents would listen to several singers who I didn’t necessarily appreciate at the time.  I was listening to guys who had massive amounts of hair spray in their perfectly coiffed do’s, jamming away on electric guitars and long drum solos.  My folks were listening to what was basically an older crowd singing Southern Gospel.  But it wasn’t just your typical Southern Gospel, and that’s what got my attention.  It wasn’t my style, but the more I not only heard but saw these people over the years, the more I was drawn in.

This gray-haired crew were radiant as they sang about Home.  They would lift their eyes and voices and sing about the Home they would soon see – Heaven – and they couldn’t wait!  They knew that all of those familiar places and wonderful memories they had experienced were nothing when compared to the Home that God promises those who love Him.

I don’t consider myself old (although my body sometimes begs to differ), and I only have a few gray hairs, but I still find myself excited about that same Home.  I have some amazing memories in my life, and prayerfully many years left to be filled with more.  However, I’m so stoked that when all is said and done, because of what Jesus did for me, I can experience Home like never before in a place my heart can barely imagine.  And that when I eventually walk those streets of gold, it will be a home where everybody knows my name.

Now, back to building more memories…