Its been almost 6 months since I've made a post. I really have to be inspired to put words on a page or even read words on a page; (I'm almost done with The Barbarian Way which I started reading at the Pepperdine lectureships in May!) Ok...I'm remedial and just plain slow. All that aside, inspiration and perspiration hit me by the wheelbarrow loads last week. Terri and I had planned on doing some mission work somewhere in the world this year and God led us to Honduras last week with a team of 14 wonderful people. Among our group was a medical doctor, who made a few medical consults but mainly hauled blocks and mortar for a house we were building for a lady, a couple of business owners, an aeronautical engineer, a banker, a marketing director, a medical transcriptionist, a heat and air man, a commercial services entrepreneur, some retirees, and a self described slug!

We ventured to Central America to work with a wonderful children's home called Por Los Ninos. There are approximately 30 children who each have a special story on how they arrived at this wonderful safe haven; many of which are gut wrenching horrific journeys. By God's grace, these kiddos are doing incredible under the direction of a tough loving, crusty, hard nosed director and his angel of a wife who refers to all the children as simply "her kids."

Sticking with the theme of my blog, my beloved HOGS, I must tell you this story. About the third night of our trip, we were sitting in the restaurant where we gathered each evening for our meal, when the owner walked into the dining room wearing a Razorback cap! I almost choked on my chicken and beans! I motioned to him as if we'd been lifelong friends and waved him over to our table to inquire about his Hog Fanhood. As luck would have it, he was in the states a few years back, visited Arkansas and picked up the cap and was wearing it proudly. We both agreed that this is probably Houston Nutt's last year, and the basketball team should make the Sweet Sixteen!!! Actually, we communicated in grunts and smiles, posed for a quick pic, and said adios. It was crazy seeing another Hog fan in a third world country...I mean what are the odds? About the same as us going to a bowl outside of Shreveport this year I suppose!

Anyway, after arriving in Tegus and riding sardine style 3 hours to Catacamas, we unloaded and got to meet the precious souls for which we came. The Honduran kids are simply beautiful. Dark skin, big brown eyes, thick black hair and huge smiles radiated from most of them...except one. She was the one that caught my eye. She had me at the first glimpse of her. Her perfectly round face attempted a smile but it was sad at best and my heart sunk in my chest. Her expression painted a picture of her short life that I was scared to inquire about; but I had to. Her journey to this point was unimaginable; something the innocence of a child shouldn't experience. I witnessed that stoic stare transform into a beautiful smile as the week progressed. I spent a little time each day visiting with her; mostly just sitting and hugging. Her name is Cinthia and she is one of God's special children. At age 7 she has blessed my life in a way that she may never know. I love you Cinthia. Keep smiling.

On June 16, 1957, George William Riley hoodwinked the lovely Lennie Grace South into slipping away somewhere in Northern Mississippi and getting hitched. No fancy wedding with bridesmaids, no church setting overflowing with flowers and no three tiered wedding cake. Even without all the bells and whistles, the love committment stuck and the milestone of 50 years together was celebrated with friends and family yesterday. It was neat to see each of their high school year books, early sweetheart pictures, and reminders of harder times. My parents weathered the storms of difficult economic times with my mom ironing clothes for additional money, and working at the high school as a secretary where she retired and dad farming with my grandpa, working on small engines part-time, and landing a job as a foreman in a copper tubing plant where he also retired. My sisters and I had a good life and mom and dad provided us with a great example of hard work, solid christian core values, and the importance of family. We never missed a meal, always went to school with clean clothes on our back and shoes on our feet, and attended church everytime the doors were open. I was very blessed and looking back I wouldn't change a thing about my upbringing. Happy 50th Anniversary Mom and Dad. You're the best.

A LONG TIME AGO, BACK IN THE 60'S, A FIESTY BUNDLE OF JOY CAME INTO THE WORLD TO THE DELIGHT OF HER WONDERFUL FOLKS, JOE BENNY AND JANE COOPER. ALTHOUGH HER DADDY DID HIS BEST TO MAKE A BAMA FAN OUT OF HER, SOMEHOW HER LOYALTY LEANED TO THE ORANGE AND BLUE OF THE AUBURN TIGERS. ONLY WITHIN THE LAST YEAR HAS THIS FAIRWEATHER FAN FLIP-FLOPPED EVEN AGAIN. HOG FANS, PLEASE HELP ME IN WELCOMING THE NEWEST ADDITION TO OUR SLOP BUCKET, MISS TERRI, A RECENT CONVERT TO OUR PIG PEN. DO I HEAR A HOG-A-LUJAH? IN THE FUTURE TP, I WOULD SUGGEST YOU NEVER BET AGAINST THE MIGHTY HOGS...SNORT, SNORT, SNORT...(YOU DO MAKE A CUTE MISS PIGGY) LET ME BE THE FIRST TO WISH YOU A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

I've been running for about 8 months now and typically go 5-6 nights a week. I haven't been training for any race in particular, but had the opportunity recently to enter a 5K so I bit the bullet and signed up. A 5K is a little over 3 miles. My jogs up until that race had been 1-2 mile stints in preparation so I was a little nervous about finishing this longer distance. About 3 weeks ago, my daughter Laura and I, started running together. She was tougher on me than I was on myself and she helped prepare me for the upcoming race with a new technique which consisted of a 30 minute run where we would sprint for 30 seconds every 5 minutes during the run. It was definately a painstaking process but in time, I could tell my endurance was increasing.

The race was in Alabama, where I joined my friend Terri in this annual event to raise money for a local charity. I thought Alabama was supposed to be mainly flatland like central Arkansas, but during the last half of the race, I found that out to not be entirely true. I was in the 45+ age division and I really wanted to do well in my first race. I scanned the crowd to see who my competition would be and picked out who I thought might be the "rabbits" in our division. I edged up close to the starting line and waited for the starter. Running with people, a mass of people, is different than running by yourself. Its hard to not over-pace yourself as you all lunge for positioning early out of the gate. I disciplined myself early and didn't get too depressed as 20-30 youngsters passed me like they were shot out of a cannon. I settled in on my pace and was content. About the one mile marker I could count about 20 people in front of me and felt pretty good about my pace and position. The course was fairly flat until we started mile two. I suddenly felt about 25 pounds heavier and thought my lungs were shrinking as I drudged up "heartbreak hill" number one. I could have been convinced that it was Mount Kill-A-Man jaro at that point. I thought it would never end; but it did. Coasting downhill was a welcomed relief but topping the first hill only gave me a glimpse of the future hills that would await me. I considered slowing down to a walk a couple of times but I could hear Laura's voice urging me to labor on and I did. I stayed behind a stocky little high school girl who I was sure would give up any minute but didn't. She inspired me to hang in there because she didn't look like the typical runner prototype but never slowed for a minute. I was determined to beat her in this race. As we approached the last several blocks of the race, I was able to reach deep within my soul and find the energy to sprint and pass my younger competitor. When I passed what I thought was the finish line I was directed by an official to turn right and go one more block where the "real" finish line awaited me. My error in judgement allowed my younger counterpart to overtake me in the end and finish 18th overall and give me 19th place. I congratulated my running buddy for motivating me to run hard and immediately put away a couple of bananas and some gatorade. My time was 24:26 and my goal was to finish under 30 minutes so I'm happy. I won't tell you Terri's time but she finished strong and helped raise money for a good cause. I was very proud of her because she's the first to admit she isn't a runner although she walks periodically and has a runners stride. Next up; the MADD Dash in Searcy. I'm looking at knocking a couple of minutes off my time in this one. The guy who won the 45+ division was 58 years young and finished in around 19 minutes! I was high on him. We talked after the race and he gave me some good pointers. Moral of the story; You can do much more than you body tells you sometimes. Practice the 3 "P"'s in life and you'll finish strong. Preparation. Patience. Participation. See you at the finish line.