Category: Valerie (Page 13 of 17)

Corporate Singing as Spiritual Discipline

Yes, today is Wednesday. It’s hump day, it’s already the middle of the week, and I’ve neglected to post the traditional first-day-of-school pictures that have always marked the beginning of another education cycle at Stanglin Manor. The tradition is that I wake them up five minutes before their alarms are set to ring with several loud and very off key singings of “School Bells.” And, right before we head out the door, the taking of the pictures. Here they are: Valerie, our “little middle,” a junior now at Amarillo High; and Carley, our “tiny bear,” entering 8th grade at Bonham.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d like to spend today and tomorrow considering a piece authored by Sean Palmer, a very talented preacher of the Word down in Temple, Texas. This short article was forwarded to me a couple of weeks ago by our worship minister here at Central, Kevin Schaffer. I love the article and want to share it and explore it in this space for two reasons: 1) I agree with it entirely; it says everything I’ve been preaching and teaching about corporate singing for many years, and 2) it says it so much better than I ever have.

With Sean’s forgiveness (he has to forgive me; he’s a Christian!), I’m just going to paste the first half of the article right here:

There’s nothing the church does so wonderfully and terribly as singing. If you’ve spent more than 10-minutes inside an American worship service, you already know how important singing is. Regardless of the worship style of your congregation, the music is important and usually done well. Music has power. It transforms moments and has the power to embed memories and stir emotions. We are moved by the singing and music in ways little else can or does. For most of us, the music and singing of our congregation is one of the major reasons we picked it.

And that’s the problem. In the mid-20th century, some traveling and nationally known preachers decided that a “personal Savior” was the carrot-and-stick that would motivate non-believers to come to faith. It worked. For the last 50-years, the sales pitch for faith in Jesus has been a personal one. “If YOU were to die today, where would you spend eternity? If YOU ask Jesus into your heart… If YOU accept Jesus as your personal Savior…” A measure of individualistic focus is right and good. After all, I live in a world where I cannot make faith decisions for other people. And as a good Anabaptist, I would choose not to even if I could. Nevertheless, it’s nearly impossible to imagine that such a singular focus could result in much other than a self-centered faith. After all, we got into this for personal reasons.

And that’s where the singing comes in.

Our corporate/common singing, regardless of the musical style of our congregation, is still viewed by too many as an individual pursuit. This is odd, because we can’t do corporate singing alone. We just wish the songs were picked and sang as if corporate worship existed for us alone. Don’t believe me? Do you know anyone who left their church because of a change in “worship?” In truth, these changes are barely changes in worship. Most churches still celebrate the Eucharist, engage sermons, sing, pray, and — sadly — have announcements. What changes is the singing! And the reason people leave over “worship” is because they no longer “like” the singing… personally.

Of course, we rarely say that out loud. We say, “It’s not what I grew up with. This music doesn’t speak to me. I’m not being fed by this.” Or we evaluate the musicality and lyrical content of the music. Don’t get me wrong. It hardly ever matters what style of music you prefer — hymns, CCM, instrumental, Gregorian, a cappella, classical, jazz — all of us do the same thing.

Our problem is that we enjoy, celebrate, bemoan, criticize, and judge church life based on what we like. We are deciding on the basis of what we like because we’ve bought into the lie that our corporate singing should be personal. Personal worship for a personal Savior, right? But what would church look like if we reframed corporate singing, not in the ever-narrowing category of “worship,” but as a spiritual discipline?

If corporate singing were a spiritual discipline…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allright, let’s stop right here for the day. I’ll post the second half of the article, all five of Palmer’s reasons for viewing congregational singing as a spiritual discipline, tomorrow. For now, let’s consider his premise that most of the people in our churches — including, if we don’t guard against it, our church leaders — view their salvation in Jesus Christ as a personal thing.

In our increasingly individualistic and highly specialized society, our default is to see what God has done through Christ on the cross and what the Spirit did at the garden tomb was for me. Christ died for me. God loves me. Jesus gives me eternal life. I am saved. I am a Christian. I worship God. He answers my prayers. Me, me, me!

Contemporary praise songs support this individualistic view of our salvation and relationship with God. Most church songs written in the U.S.A. in the last quarter-century use many more singular personal pronouns than plural. O Lord, Prepare Me to be a Sanctuary. A Shield About Me. My God is Mighty to Save. I will Call Upon the Lord. I stand to praise you, but I fall on my knees. O God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. My Life is in You, Lord. Holy Lord, most holy Lord, you alone are worthy of my praise. On Bended Knee I Come. Nobody Fills My Heart Like Jesus. He Has Made Me Glad. I Worship You, Almighty God. Make Me a Servant. The joy of the Lord will be my strength, I will not falter, I will not faint. You Are My All and All. Jesus, you’re my firm foundation, I know I can stand secure. Lord, I Lift Your Name on High. I Sing Praises to Your Name. I could go on and on. But this is enough to make the point.

They’re not all like this. Some of the songs we sing together speak as or to the corporate body of Christ. But for every We Bring the Sacrifice of Praise or We Shall Assemble on the Mountain, there are a dozen or more songs like There’s a stirring deep within me and Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that you’re my God.

Those of you who are members of churches who use an abundance of technology during corporate worship, have you noticed how all the pictures and backgrounds are mainly of one person worshiping God? You probably haven’t noticed it or paid attention to it because it’s so prevalent in our society and, consequently now, in our churches. Look at it this Sunday. One man standing on a mountain with his hands raised to God. One woman in a field, bowing down in prayer to God. It’s in our PowerPoints and Easy Worships, on our bulletins and websites, our art and our language foster and support this idea of an individualistic salvation. Kevin tells me all the time it’s next to impossible to find worship images for our use in assemblies that depict more than one person adoring God.

Naturally, and unfortunately, this shapes us into a people who expect the songs on Sunday mornings to be our personal favorite songs, the songs we personally enjoy, the songs that speak to us personally, the songs that personally move us or have special meaning for us. Personally. Of course, no one is saved alone. Not one person is saved by him or herself. God saves us together, with one another, belonging to one another, in a faith community. Together. The overwhelming majority of the pronouns in Scripture are plural. The Bible was written for the collection of God’s people. God so loved the whole world that he gave Jesus who came and died for the whole world. We are made more like Christ together. We grow in the Spirit as a group. We watch and pray, sacrifice and serve, as a body. Worship in our Scriptures is never an individual or a personal thing. But we’re all programmed to view it that way. As long as we do, we’ll keep having “worship wars” and we’ll keep judging the worth of a church assembly based on our own personal preferences.

Peace,

Allan

Valerie: Happy Sweet Sixteen!

Today our Little Middle turns sixteen. And it’s as wonderful and exciting and scary and depressing and amazing and cool as you can imagine. And, yeah, I’m a little conflicted about it.

Valerie is sixteen. And it’s different. At fourteen, they’re still little kids. At fifteen, it feels like “Oh, no, she’s moving into a different phase.” Now at sixteen, it’s “Wait a second! This is for real!” Sixteen is a full blown teenager with serious adult thoughts and tendencies. It’s responsibility and freedom, it’s abstract thinking and smart humor, it’s heavy conversations about increasingly weighty topics. And it’s boys. Good gravy, it seems like it’s most of what they talk about at sixteen. Which leads to, “Oh, no, I’m gonna lose this girl!”

I don’t want to think about it.

Sixteen years ago today, our Valerie Nicole was a nine-and-a-half pound chunk of a new born baby. She had a big, bald, round, bowling ball head and these huge eyes that people came from all over the hospital to see. She looked like a kindergartener among all the five and six pound lightweights in that nursery. Today, she’s a beautiful rail-thin twig of a young lady. Bony Maroni. And, did I mention, beautiful? And happy; she really seems happy.

Valerie enjoys her life. She loves it. Valerie loves Amarillo and Amarillo loves Valerie. She fought us tooth and nail when we moved here a year-and-a-half ago, but now she wouldn’t move back to DFW for love or money. She actually owns and wears a pair of cowboy boots. She spent this past fall working weekends and part time at the Borgers’ pumpkin farm. She listens to some cross-over country music. And she thinks she might like to work this summer at Palo Duro Canyon. Valerie has a pack of extraordinary friends both at school and at Central with whom she shares lots of meals and lots of laughs. She loves this place. It’s been so good for her. She’s thriving. And it does my heart good.

Our middle daughter and I share a lot of little things together. We both sing a lot in the truck. We sing and sing and sing. She sounds like an angel and I sound like somebody who shouldn’t be singing as loudly as I am. And we laugh. We get each other’s jokes. With just a glance across a table or a single word muttered under the radar or a subtle sound nobody else would catch, we communicate something we both think is absolutely hilarious. And we don’t think anybody else gets it. It’s special.

Of course, like most every dad who’s ever had a daughter, I’m trying to hold onto that kind of stuff for as long as I can. Praise God, for some reason Valerie still likes being with me. Maybe it’s sympathy. I’m leaving here in a few minutes to pick her and the ValPals up for a birthday lunch. She doesn’t mind hanging out with me. She pretends to actually enjoy it. And I cherish it. It’s precious to me. More and more precious with every passing birthday.

About four months ago, for the very first time ever, Valerie shooed me away in a social setting. It had never happened before. I was dropping her off at the high school on a Friday morning and actually walking in with her so I could buy our tickets to that night’s football game. As we walked across the parking lot together, her friend Chloe appeared on a nearby sidewalk. Valerie greeted her and began walking toward her. I yelled out, “Hey, Chloe!” and began walking that way, too. And Valerie said, “Dad, go away. Go away.”

I was crushed. I mumbled something like, “Okay, sorry” and kept walking toward the school office. But it was awful. Did she just tell me to go away? Yeah, she did. Oh, man, that hurt. It was a killer.

It hadn’t happened before. And it hasn’t happened since. But it gave me a weird little glimpse into the future. Some day that little middle is going to take off without me. And I’ve got to be allright with that.

But, not yet.

Our God has blessed Valerie with a wonderful sense of humor, an outgoing and infectious personality, and a heart for other people that reflects the love and mercy of our Savior. She really seems to put the needs of others ahead of her own. She’s especially sensitive to those people others might consider outcasts or misfits. She defends the weak. She gets into arguments with school teachers and classmates over religious and social issues. She challenges me. She makes me think. Valerie is smart enough and dedicated to our Christ enough to know what’s wrong with this world and what needs to happen. And she’s just rebellious enough to try to do something about it. I admire our Valerie. She’s going to do something really important in God’s Kingdom. I see it. He’s getting her ready for it. I don’t know what it’s going to be, but it might change the world. I can’t wait.

In the meantime, I’m hanging on.

Valerie will always prefer grilled cheese sandwiches to a steak dinner. She’ll always watch Little House on the Prairie and Sponge Bob. And she’ll always doodle and draw on things she’s not supposed to doodle and draw on. But, she’s growing up. Oh, man, she’s growing up. And she’s becoming as wonderfully beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.

I love you, Valerie. Happy Birthday.

Dad

Central to Sao Paulo

Our congregation’s partnership with God and the redeeming work he’s doing in Brazil is something we at Central truly treasure as a legacy that’s been handed down to us and is worthy of our honor and respect. We’re grateful for the ones who took the Gospel to Brazil ahead of us; we’re so thankful for the formation of Great Cities Missions; we’re honored to join forces with the great Christian missionaries who have sacrificed and served in Brazil in the name and manner of our King. What a tremendous blessing!

And now we’re personally rolling up our sleeves to join that venture in the flesh.

A whole bunch of our Central teenagers and just enough adults to make it work took off this afternoon for Sao Paulo, the largest city in Brazil. Our two oldest daughters, Whitney and Valerie, are right in the middle of it, excited for the chance to meet our missionaries down there and to work with them in showing the more than eleven-million people in that city the love and grace of God. They’ll be painting rooms at a church, playing with kids at an orphanage, and putting on a VBS for the community. There will be worship time and service time, prayer time and door-knocking (clapping) time. They’re going to Brazil to help change things for Christ.

Carrie-Anne and I send them to Brazil hoping our Christ uses this time to change them, to shape them, to further transform them into the image of our Lord. We pray that our King uses them to his eternal glory and praise, but that he also uses this opportunity to show them what a huge eternal Kingdom we belong to. I want my girls to experience personally what God is doing in other countries, in other cultures, in other ways. I want them to know first-hand that we Christians in America are not the only ones that matter. I want them to see that God works in ways that are wholly unfamiliar to us. I want them to be convinced that God loves all mankind as much as he loves them (us). I want them to be certain that Christians in the United States don’t have the market cornered on God, that none of us has him or the way he operates figured out and neatly packaged in a convenient and comfortable pattern we can all identify and feel good about. I want them to see — to really see! — that our God is wild and he’s on the move; he’s unpredictable and unstoppable; he’s bigger and better and more wonderful than we’ve ever imagined; and he is saving his children of every tongue and nation and tribe and land without discrimination and without end.

God, please show them your glory.

Carrie-Anne and Carley and I are leaving Amarillo Wednesday to hook up with this group in Sao Paulo and, after four days, take Whitney and Valerie with us to catch the first four days of another Central group’s trip to Brasilia. And we can’t wait. What a joy, to be able to share this life-changing, spirit-transforming trip with our entire family! Thank you, Central! Thank you, Lord!

Yes, we really did just put our two oldest daughters on a plane to Brazil with Adam Gray.

And we’re so full of gratitude and peace. May our God’s will be done in Sao Paulo and in Amarillo and in the lives of his children in both places just as it is in heaven.

Peace,

Allan

And When You Go To Church

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children.” ~Deuteronomy 6:5-7

This Sunday is the fourth Sunday of the month. Here at Central, that means we will not be dismissing the youngest of our children from our main assembly for their own worship time in their own room. It means it will be a little louder in our worship center. It means our younger parents and those sitting around them will be a little more distracted. It means a little more crying, a little more fidgeting, a little more talking and giggling.

It means an opportunity to rejoice in the fact that our God has blessed us with five full generations of people within our church family. It means another chance to interact with the most precious and innocent among us. It means another moment to pass on to our children the faith that has been handed to us. It means another reminder that we are not running this race alone.

“Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. And when you go to church.” ~Deuteronomy 6:7

OK, I cheated. I added that last part myself: “…and when you go to church.”

Here at Central we believe very strongly that if our people are always with their own age group, always with their own peers and demographics every single time we come together, it does more harm than good. It’s vital — it’s critical! — to this holy task of passing on the faith that our children regularly worship and read, sing and study, listen and pray, commune and laugh and cry and learn with the entire corporate Body of Christ.

Don’t tell me the children don’t get anything out of it. Of course, they get plenty out of it. If they didn’t, or couldn’t, then why in the world do you read them bedtime stories every night? Why were you singing Jesus Loves Me to them before they could crawl? Why bother kissing them as infants or telling them you love them before they even know what love is? Because it matters. It’s important. They do get something out of it.

And don’t tell me you can’t get anything out of church when you’re wrestling with your kids in the pew. First, it’s not about you and your personal worship experience. It’s about all of God’s people coming together in one place at the same time as a family and the mutual responsibilities with which we’ve been graced by our Father. You get plenty out of it. You’re blessed to be able to view the magnificence of the Christian assembly through the eyes of a child. You’re privileged to partner with God as he draws your child to him and his Kingdom. You’re being shaped and transformed as you actively pursue what God has ordained you as a parent to do.

This coming Sunday I urge you to pay attention to your young children during our assembly. Don’t simply pacify them with an iPad or a plastic tub of Cheerios. Engage them. Interact with them. Sing with them. Read the Bible with them. Explain to them something you hear in a prayer. Talk with them about the bread and the cup. Be as fully present with them as you are at the park and at the dinner table. Don’t abandon your parenting during this most critical time. If anything, step it up!

And if you’re sitting around some of these younger parents with their small children, this goes for you, too. For all of us. Engage. Interact. Teach and encourage. We are all under a tremendous obligation by our God to teach our children and lead them toward him. Let’s approach these fourth Sundays with anticipation and excitement. Let’s also come to these fourth Sundays in reverent fear of our Creator that we would not neglect this great responsibility.

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Carrie-Anne and I were so blessed to participate in the CareNet Pregnancy Center’s annual banquet last night at the Amarillo Civic Center. More than 1,200 wonderful people gathered to praise God and to raise money for this most important of Christian ministries in our town.

I was impressed by author Gary Thomas’ speech. I was inspired by Amy Spears’ song. I was moved by the videos. But I was completely blown away by Candy Gibbs, CareNet’s Executive Director. She speaks like Eugene Peterson writes. Her speech was amazing. She’s careful, very deliberate, with her words. She preached to us, she preached with us last night. And. It. Was. Powerful. (You can read the transcript of Candy’s speech on her blog by clicking here.)

I’m impressed with CareNet because last year 103 pregnant young ladies went there to talk about their planned abortions and 100 of them were moved by prayer and counseling to decide against it. I’m impressed because CareNet counselors in Amarillo made 9,868 client visits last year to encourage and equip, to strengthen and heal. I’m impressed because in 2011, through the efforts of CareNet and by the grace and power of our God, 187 young women and men submitted to the Lordship of our risen King.

But here’s what’s most important about CareNet: they have rejected the ways of the world and embraced the ways of our Lord. This is not an organization that’s out there waving flags and signing petitions and lobbying congress and pressuring law makers and threatening litigation and marching in the streets. No. They’re not pushing for legislation to outlaw abortion. They’re actually telling dozens and dozens of young ladies every month why abortion is against the plans of our Heavenly Father, and making promises to these young ladies to walk with them through their difficult journeys. They mentor these young ladies and their new babies. They counsel with them. They provide education for them. They meet with them and pray with them. They become friends and family with them. They love them with the compassion and grace and mercy of Jesus. They walk with them for years after they’ve made the decision to have these babies. It’s really quite beautiful. And very counter cultural. Very Scriptural. Very like our Christ. They’re doing it differently. And it’s working. Just like Jesus promised us it would.

I can really get behind a deal like this. I’d suggest you look a little more into it, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valerie and I are gearing up for the Warrior Dash tomorrow down in Roanoke. It’s a 5K run with thousands of crazy people through an obstacle course in the mud. Of course, events like this are targeted to people half my age who drink a lot more than just Dr Pepper. But we ran it last year with several of our great friends from Legacy and just had an absolute blast. We’ll hook up in the morning with most of the same crowd: John & Suzanne, the Cliftons and Engers, Josh Penn. Tracy and Samantha are running it with us this year and I think Steve & Sandy will also be there.

It’ll be crazy. It looks like a lot of the obstacles are different from last year. There seems to be a couple more water obstacles and the climbing obstacles look to be a little more difficult. But Valerie and I are committed. We’ve signed the waivers that promise we won’t sue anybody even if we suffer horrible injury, we’ve packed our grubby shorts and T-shirts and shoes we don’t mind losing, and our warrior attitudes are primed.

I hope you’re doing something really cool this weekend, too.

Peace,

Allan

Happy Birthday, Valerie

Our Little Middle turns fifteen years old today.

Fifteen?!?

No. I’m in serious denial here. Fifteen sounds so big. It sounds *gulp* kinda grown up. And she’s not. No way. She’s little Valerie.

She’s my little newborn baby with those huge beautiful eyes, taking everything in, surveying her surroundings, sizing up the other infants in that nursery at South Austin Medical Center. She’s my tiny toddler with the saggy diaper, waddling around the house with that pink sippy cup, constantly calling out in that deep, funny baritone drawl, “I want mo’ milk.” Valerie is my little middle, the blondie who sits sideways in the car with her face almost stuck to the glass so she doesn’t miss a single thing as it goes by. “What’s that?” Or more like, “Whaaaat’s thaa-yat?” She’s my little dress up girl with the Barbies and doll houses. She’s my picky eater who never met a vegetable she didn’t hate. She’s my little elementary school cutie with the snaggle-toothed grin who wants me to tuck her in every night, “papoose style.”

Yeah, she’s all those things. She always will be all those things to me. I can’t help but see all those things — still — in her.

But she’s also turning fifteen today. She is.

She likes drinking coffee now. She had a big cup of it on the way out the door this morning. Stinks up our whole house. She’s into Justin Bieber (Lord, where did I mess that up?) and listens to him and Taylor Swift and some guy named Bruno Mars or something in her room, in the bathroom, in the car, everywhere. She’s got that iTouch on and those ear plugs in all the time. She’s very, very fashion conscious: belts and fingernails, socks and hair bands, name brand jeans with the bling on the booty, and some kind of shoe called Sperry’s that look almost exactly like the topsiders we wore in the ’80s. She’s really in to zebra stripes right now; black and white and pink zebra stripes on everything. She can be kinda sarcastic. She sings in the high school choir. She’s acting at Amarillo Little Theater. She babysits. She’s slightly sarcastic. She laughs at things that make adults laugh. She takes off for hours at a time with friends who already have their drivers licenses. She’s learning how to drive now herself. She spends as much effort and energy talking to boys as she does girls. She’s a little sarcastic. And she eats those two or three bites of broccoli now with just a slight sulk instead of a full-on-knock-down-drag-out fight-to-the-death.

And she’s just absolutely beautiful. Stunning.

She’s about grown up. She’s almost there.

And she loves her Lord — our Lord — and his people. She’s given her life to him and he’s making full use of it. Our God uses our Val-Pal all the time to show his love and grace and acceptance and mercy to other people. Nothing makes her happier than to spend time with somebody who doesn’t always feel love, somebody who doesn’t always experience acceptance. She cares a great deal about the needs of others. Our Father has put that in her. His Spirit lives in her and moves her to do sacrificial things that benefit other people. It’s quite spectacular, really, when your prayers for your children are answered almost every day right in front of your eyes. She reflects God’s glory. And I love it.

Happy Birthday, Valerie. “Her’s a big girl!”

I love you. And I’m so proud of you.

Dad

The Hold

There’s a Season Three episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry and Elaine are attempting to pick up a rental car. Jerry has made a reservation for a mid-size and the lady behind the counter informs him that they don’t have a mid-size available at the moment.

Jerry says, “I don’t understand; I made a reservation. Do you have my reservation?”

“Yes, we do,” she answers. “But, unfortunately, we ran out of cars.”

Now Jerry’s really confused. And a little agitated. “But the reservation keeps the car here! That’s why you have the reservation!”

“I know why we have reservations.”

“I don’t think you do. If you did, I’d have a car. See, you know how to take the reservation. You just don’t know how to hold the reservation. And that’s really the most important part of the reservation: the hold.”

“…an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade — kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power.” ~1 Peter 1:4-5

The promise of eternal life is guaranteed and kept — held! — by the power of God for his children. And that guarantee inspires us. It moves us. It drives us.

Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, our God has made a reservation in heaven. And the treasures of heaven that are being held for us can never be taken away. They can’t rot or disappear. Nothing can ruin it. It can’t be cheapened or stained in any way. It’s guarded. It’s shielded. It’s protected by God’s power. We will never walk up to the counter and be disappointed because God didn’t know how to “hold.”

What a relief! What great assurance! How liberating! What a blessing to realize we are not kept by our own power. Our eternal destiny does not depend on our own abilities which do disappoint or our own merits which do come up short. We are kept — held! — by the power of the Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth.

In this, as Peter writes, we greatly rejoice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted to share a few snow pictures with you, especially if you’re reading this from somewhere outside our greater Amarillo area. It seems the Blizzard Warning on the 19th was six days early. We got just under seven inches of snow on Christmas Day and it was marvelous.

It was still coming down hard when we left our lunch at Steve and Connie’s to head back to town. The Woods live just west of town and we were warned that when they close I-40, they do it at Soncy Road. So we grabbed a handful of Connie’s fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and followed Craig and Donna back to the highway.

Sunday afternoon, Greg and Mean Jean and I took our kids (all of his, one of mine) and the McNeil urchins out to MediPark Hill for some sledding. They call it MediPark Hill; I think it’s actually just a huge drainage ditch. First time sledding for me. Ever. Valerie accompanied me on the adventure while the other three women in my house stayed inside. High and dry. It’s a good thing that MediPark Hill is right in the middle of the hospital district. I was having to walk up and sled down while, at the same time, dodging Josh’s Kamikaze attacks from the side and Ethan’s slushballs aimed at my earhole. Mark my words: You little guys will get yours!

Here’s a shot of our new backyard on Roxton covered in snow:

We’ve had right at nine-and-a-half inches of snow so far this season. But since Christmas Day, we’ve been mostly sunny and in the 50s and 60s. If this is winter in Amarillo, it’s not nearly as bad as all of you made it out to be.

Peace,

Allan

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