I think “BFF” means “Best Friends Forever”. When it comes to my marriage to the former Terri Alexander, she is for sure my best friend…forever.

How great is that?! My wife is my best friend. Like, I can’t get enough of hanging out with her. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about me…atleast I hope so.

When we’re together, which is a lot, we: laugh, eat, process our thoughts, feelings and emotions…go to movies, get a cone at McDonalds, walk around at the mall, drive through neighborhoods looking at homes, eat, laugh, call our kids, work at the Hope Center, carpool as much as possible…to name a few.

With each passing year, our love, joy and friendship continues to grow and go deeper. I love my best friend- the former Terri Alexander. I’ll love her forever…till the day I die…and when I get to Heaven and see her there, we’ll have forever to continue our friendship…because our friendship is forever.

So, I’ve been working with youth pretty much my whole “adult life”, assuming you place me in the “adult” classification.

My understanding of the deadly power of “hopelessness”, feeling stuck, began to become clear when the Lord exposed my heart to the hearts of kids living in the inner city. They seemed stuck with nowhere to turn, no outlets, no options, no bright future. This “feeling” causes them to live for the moment and not consider the results of their choices. This “feeling” allows them to not care about their own hearts and the feelings of others. Their little hearts became numb to caring, feeling and hoping. Dead boy walking. Dead girl crying. Stuck. Suffocating. No future. No hope.

What’s crazy is that I also work and invest in the hearts of youth in the suburbs, and I see and hear that similar “stuckness” come out of some of their hearts. Different faces. Different neighborhoods. Same hopelessness.

That’s why I love “hope”. It’s the best thing! I love hope because hope un-stucks us. Hope pulls open the trees so that dog in the picture can go chase cats, sleep for about 22 hours a day in peace, and dream about the next bone to chew on.

I wanna be the guy who somehow gets that other dog out of the seat in the car. Seems impossible but hope can unstuck any situation. I wanna be the guy who unearths that dog stuck in the car seat, so that he can stick his head and huge long tongue out the window as his master’s car cruises down the road.

I love telling kids who feel stuck that they won’t always be stuck. I want to be the guy who pulls the two trees apart so that youth can go run into their future, dare to dream and pursue their dreams. I wanna be the guy who gets youth who feel stuck in the car seat, unstuck so they can believe they have a good future.

God gave me hope. I wanna give what I got. It’s the best thing!

There aren’t many Pastor Edward King’s in the world. Which probably why our world isn’t doing so well. The phrase, “one in a million” fits my friend and fellow Hope Center staff member of about 13 years. Our world needs more “Kings”, the title many youth at Hope use when needing his attention.

Ed loves. He loves his wife of over 25 years, Juanita, as if they just got back from their honeymoon. He has loved his 3 children persistently and consistenly from the day they were born. He is an amazing grandfather to his grandchildren, to say the least.

But Ed not only loves his own children, but he loves other peoples kids as if they were his own. Ed is the living definition of what it means to be a ”father to the fatherless”. Ed is the dad to hundreds of kids that they never had. He’s their fan, their coach, their discipliner, their “you-can-count-on-me” source of stability.Ed feeds kids. He gives them rides from Point A to Point…..it’s so unpredictable. He cares. He cries when he sees and hears the brokeness in the kids lives and families.

North Omaha is a better place because of Ed. North Omaha would have even bigger challenges if Pastor King wasn’t there. Ed is amazing.

Every father would love to have a son like Ed King. Every man would love to have a friend like Ed King. I’m so glad Ed’s my friend. Life is richer because of Ed. Life feels likes it’s going to be ok because Ed is a part of it. Come to think of it, I bet there are literally hundreds of youth and now young adults who feel the same way.

“Thank you Pastor King for loving, caring, serving and mentoring. The world is a better place because you’re in it.”

My son Turner claims he has two moms due to the frequency of my tears. I am not ashamed of how much I cry. I’ll never forget when an elder at my church approached me after a talk I gave. This happened about 29 years ago. It was a talk filled with a ton of tears, my tears. The elder’s name was Rollie, about 65 years old at the time. He looked me and said, “Son, never despise your tears.” I’ve never forgotten that (obviously). Sometimes I’m tempted to be a bit embarrased by my tears in public. But I won’t despise them.

I cry when I feel His heart or the hearts of others. God seems to let me in on how He’s feeling and how others are feeling. YOU feel me?

So when I look at my daughter Emily(pictured above), bulging beyond human comprehension, I get tears, a lump in my throat. That’s MY daughter. She’s a woman and no longer that little girl. You see, I can still see Emily as a little girl in my heart: crooked teeth (I take the blame, my teeth were horrible growing up), a bit of a lisp, love for dogs more than people, my “Jelly Bean”. And now the Bean is about to birth a boy. Lump in my throat.

I can’t wait to hold him. Tears. I can’t wait to hug Emily as she cradles her son. I can’t wait to hold him for the first time, her son, MY grandson. More tears. Ty, me, now has an expanded resume. Husband. Father…and now grandfather. Tears of joy. God is good. Lump in my throat. I am not ashamed.

It was probably the first or second year in Hope’s existence that I felt the Lord spoke to my heart regarding how He sees the Hope Center. It was during those early days of seeing Hope birthed and finding our way. This encounter with Him occurred as I was reading the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. Jesus said in verse 18,

            “I will not leave you as orphans…”

It was at that moment that I felt like the Lord said to me that the most important thing the Hope Center can do is to…………stay open. Think about it, I have for about 12 years. I would have thought the most important thing the Hope Center could do is:

            1. Save souls

            2. Provide meals

            3. Help youth and children excel educationally

            4. Provide a refuge

            5. Provide employment

            6. Other

Those 6 plus things are all very biblical and at the core of who and what the Hope Center is and does. But to “stay open” doesn’t sound overly impressive unless you’re an orphan, unless you don’t have a dad in your life or some type of “father figure”. Doesn’t sound impressive unless you’ve experienced abandonment, unfulfilled promises and deep loneliness.

I once heard a pretty insightful question regarding how significant churches are in the city in which they reside. The question was, “How long would it take for your city to notice if your church no longer existed?” Cities aren’t aware of the existence of a lot of churches. Therefore, if those churches ceased to exist, not many would notice. Hopefully I don’t sound cynical, but the question is a valid one.

So why not apply it to the Hope Center for Kids? How long would it take Omaha to know if Hope no longer operated? The question highlights the level of impact (or lack) and need (or lack) of Hope. I know I’m not totally objective, but I think it wouldn’t take long for people throughout the city to get the news.

            1. Hope Financial Partners- within 6 hours

            2. Hope Volunteers- within 3 hours

            3. Hope Neighbors- within 1 hour

            4. Hope youth and children- minutes

If the Hope Center closed, it would fill the orphan heart that many Hope Members struggle with, with new levels of abandonment, loneliness and despair. Their hearts would be flooded with questions like, “Where do I go now after school?” “Will I ever see Pastor King, Miss Deb, Misty, Alyssa, Will…again?” “I thought Hope would be on 20^th and Lake my whole life?” “My daddy left me and now Hope has too.”

As I wrote my book, “A Thousand Screaming Mules”, what emerged was that my primary motivation in longing to see a Hope Center birthed was out my fatherly heart for youth and children. I don’t want one kid to feel like an orphan. Every kid needs a dad. Every kid longs for a father to be engaged in his life and his heart.

I want my children to know that their dad/me, is on a mission to know, pursue and see each of their dreams become a reality. My Heavenly Dad makes my dreams come true. That’s who He is. It’s His character.

So when Jesus told His disciples that He would never leave them as orphans, I believe He’s still saying it today. Every day when youth and children arrive at Hope, it’s a holy hint as to what God is like. So many of our Hope kids have been a part of Hope for 5, 8, 10 plus years. They’re not alone. We’re here! We’re still here! “Is Pastor King still here?” “Why yes, here’s right over there!” “Where’s Miss Deb?” “She’s in her office, talking to a 10 year old girl just like she with you 7 years ago.”

13 years of Hope. The doors are still open. Lord-willing, they’ll open again tomorrow at 3 pm. The doors open because He opens them through His people: Staff, the Board, Partners, Volunteers, and Intercessors…

Was Hope successful in 2011? Yes! How do I know? Because we stayed open. That’s the most important thing.

I got a phone call yesterday from one the Hope Staff. It was about Josh Drummond. 22 years old. Hope Center member for I don’t know how long. But I do know he’s been a part of Hope for a long time.

 I was told Josh had been shot a little bit ago, in his neighborhood, just a few feet from the front door of his house. I don’t know all the details. We may never know. What I do know is that I’ll never see Josh again at the Hope Center.

The last time I got to see Josh was the first week of October. I was so excited to see him. He seemed to feel the same. We hugged more than once. Josh showed up to play on the “old school” Hope Basketball Team during our Hope 13th Birthday Week. After the game we hugged again. He gave me his new cell number. I can’t call him now. Nobody can. His mom can’t. His friends can’t. His children can’t.

These are raw words. I’m sad. I’m sad for his mom and family. I’m sad for his children. They won’t know what a great person their dad Josh was. The smile. The higher-than-normal-pitched voice. He fiesty, always kind and respectful each time iI saw him at Hope. “Pastor Ty!” is what he called me. I can still hear it in my heart. “King!” he would say toward Pastor King(long time Hope Staff)…with an appeal in his voice to get “King” to change his mind about a decision that Josh wasn’t thrilled about.

I’m sad for his friends. What do they do with their sadness? I’m sad for our city. I’m sad. Deeply. I can’t believe it. Josh Drummond is gone. Wish I could hug him one more time.

I think we’re on to something. I experienced something supernatural for the first time about 26 years ago when I visited my wife’s, then girlfriend (Terri’s still my girlfriend by the way), family in wild and wonderful West Virginia. It, “the experience” was when it was time for dinner. Time to eat!

 Terri’s parents, her 4 sibling and spouses and I took our seats around the dinner table. It was something to behold: an endless supply of pasta, meat sauce, meatballs, grandma’s bread, salad, everyone talking at the same time, even with food in their mouths. Joy. Gratitude. Family. Memories. Affectionate sarcasm. Stories. Laughter. My future mother-in-law was in her glory! All her children around HER table eating HER food. Heaven on earth. Heaven in her home. Heaven in her kitchen. Heaven in the food. Heaven in the voices. Heaven in the hugs. The dinner table was magical! I wanted in. I wanted that table to be in my life. That couldn’t be a one-and-done encounter.

When Terri and I married, she brought “the table”. What I felt that first night around her mom and dad’s dinner table is now what our children and others experience when they visit Terri’s table. They get to experience a bit of Heaven. The smell of garlic and pasta greets Terri’s guests at the door. The table and the settings are an invitation to come sit down and take in Heaven. And then it happens. A bit of Heaven. Food, endless food. Pasta. Meat balls. Meat sauce. Bread. Salad. “Who wants more?” she asks. And when you think you can’t take in another bite, Terri departs from her chair into the kitchen. Seconds later she returns with desert. The guest in unison respond in surprise, “How could there be any more?”. Heaven. Heaven in our home. Heaven in the food. Terri’s table, our table, is a Heavenly Table. If Heaven is like our table, I hungry.

My dear ole dad, Don, turns 80 in March of 2012. His body might be 80, but his heart, mind and soul is…about 50,if that. He’s the youngest almost-80year old person I’ve ever met. And, it’s not like he’s going through a mid-life crisis, or a end-of-life crisis. It’s how he views life. It’s who he is.

He loves people. He loves to Ballroom dance with his wife Gunn. He watches what he eats. He exercises. Goes to church. Mall-walks outside. Has an amazing tan 12 months out of the year. Still has all his hair. Is very handsome, like the guy on the Dos Equis commercial who says, “Stay thirsty my friend.” Never met a stranger he didn’t like.

Dad was a really good dad growing up in Fremont, Nebraska, USA. He made a pretty decent living as a realtor. We always lived in nice homes and drove above average cars. Dad hardly missed our family dinner. He was caring, giving and generous. I always knew he loved me. My childhood was great. Dad was great. Most kids these days would give their smart phone for a dad like mine.

But if dad was solid growing up, he’s been spectacular in my adult years. It’s as if he’s become an even more better (bad English I know) dad as the years have come and gone. He still let’s me know how much he loves me, more than he did during my childhood years. He calls me from Florida just because. He sends me Hallmark cards, underlining the words and lines that represent his sentiments toward me. He made it possible for my family to build a house with an apartment above the garage so that he could live (really) close to us after mom passed away. He loves my kids, his grandkids like non other. I could go on and on.

I want to be like my dad when I grow up/get older. I want to love my children the way he loves me. I want to pursue my kids through each season of their lives as my dad has mine. I want to head over to Hallmark and spend some time looking for a card or two for my kids, highlighter and all. I want to love life, people, my wife like my dad. I want to smile at the future, no matter what my age, because this is a good life.

Where most people seem to grow cranky and sad in their latter years of life, my dad seems to improve with aging. Life is good. People are a blessing. Family is the goal. The future is hopeful. There’s still much to live for. My dad is like wine, he get’s better as time goes on.

My oldest child is my daughter, Emily. She is 24 years old. Married to an amazing man named Paul. They are expecting my first grandson in February of 2012. They were married on June 21st of 2008. But for me, that wasn’t the first time I attended my daughter’s wedding.

As a matter of fact, I walked down the isle with her every year of her first 21 years of her life….in my heart, for 21 years. When she was first born in Relands, California on Flag Day of 1987, I attended her wedding…in my heart. When she went to school that first day at Trinity Christian School, her long hair pulled back by her mom into a ponytail, I was walking down the isle, her arm in my arm, the music playing, all those guests watching, heading toward the altar and her groom…in my heart.

When she just had to have a dog as a family pet, so that she compete in numerous Dog Shows during her elementary years of life, in my heart I saw her in that beautiful white wedding dress, ready to give her heart to a man who wasn’t me anymore.

When she moved out our house, off to the college house across town…I was already waiting for her at the top of the isle…in my heart, on her wedding day.  When she introduced me to Paul and soon thereafter told us they wanted to be married…I was already saying, “Her mother and I” in response to the pastor’s question, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”.

And then the Day arrived. My daughter was ready to take my arm and make our way to the altar. There was Paul, waiting for my girl, my Jelly Bean (my pet name for Emily during her childhood). My former first grader, dog trainer, college student, was now a bride. But in my heart, she had been a bride from the very beginning of her life. And because of that picture in my heart, that 21 year old picture, a picture that would become reality, faster than I could imagine,  I had no regrets as we made our way down the center isle. Why? Because I knew her childhood would come and go. Being at Emily’s wedding for 21 years caused me to embrace and never wish away one day of her childhood. I was aware almost each day of those 21 years, that “these” years were fleeting. I HAD to be at her first day of school. I HAD to be at all those Dog Shows. I HAD to embrace it all…because I was waiting for her on her wedding day. 

My youngest offspring/son Turner, currently resides in Redding, California- just west of Omaha, Nebraska. He’s attending a ministry-type school until May of 2012. I’m really proud of him stepping out in faith to grow his faith. He won’t regret it. He does a pretty good job of keeping me informed about his various experiences at school. There have been some amazing stories of God doing things in Redding that happened back in the Bible. But, the one story so far that has caused me the greatest wonder was one he told me this past week.

Turner has a “seasonal job” presently, to say the least. He works at a Christmas Tree place that people come to cut down (I think I have that part right) their tree so that they can take it back to their homes and create some Holiday memories. Turner’s job is to offer the clients “carry out” in getting their freshly cut trees to their vehicles. He only gets paid when the clients tip.

Last week, a guy came to get his “Carry Out Christmas Tree”. Turner tells me this guys began to share his story with him. Client stated that his Police Officer Pension was about one-third of what he thought it was supposed to be. Therefore, he was finacially strapped. Client also had to say good-bye to his teenage son who had to be taken off life support. There might have been one more tragedy shared by Client with my son.

Turner told me that he was so moved by Client’s story that he felt compelled to ask Client if he could say a prayer for him…right there while Client sat in his car. Client gave him permission. Turner went on to pray for Client as well as declare over him that God loved him and would never leave him and that He still cared deeply for him in this dark season.

Hey! That’s my son! My son who knew God wanted him to reach out to a man who needed more than a Carry Out. He not only carried out Client’s Christmas tree to his car, Turner delivered love, compassion and hope to a man who was desparate. My fatherly heart was blown away by my son’s sensitivity to God and to this man’s heart. My son is living and experiencing God’s heart for others in a way that makes his dad’s heart sing.

I bet Client went home that night more able to put up his freshly cut tree with joy and less sadness because the Carry Out young man, my son, spoke His truth and His love to his heart. My son blessed two dad’s hearts: the grieving heart of Client and mine. Sounds like Christmas to me.