52 Weeks of Gratefulness #42 – Jannie Thompson

Jannie Thompson
Janine Thompson with Ebenezer youth at old Burger King
Janine Thompson jump rope Ebenezer youth
Ebenezer Youth Group

In Week 42 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for the youngest person I know, Jannie Thompson.

Miss Jannie (as she’s affectionately known around my house) was one of the first people to welcome me when I visited Greater Ebenezer Missionary Baptist Church as a college student. If Ebenezer had a mascot, it would be Jannie Thompson. She is the personification of the down-home kindness and warmth that characterizes that fellowship.

I got to know Ms. Jannie mostly by serving with her in the youth ministry. Among the many things I’ve come to love about Ms. Jannie is her enthusiasm for life. Whatever the youth were doing, she was doing. It didn’t matter if it was kickball, jumping rope or racing, she was in it to win it.

She kept us grounded because she is unapologetically real. She is one of the kindest people I’ve met but she will slip off those shoes and earrings on you, if she has to. Because she was so real, our time together as a youth group was real. We didn’t pretend or play church. We wrestled with real problems, discussed what was happening today and talked about how to apply our faith to real life.

But perhaps what I appreciate most about Ms. Jannie was her openness and big heart. There were kids that came to our church hurt, confused and alone but always found a safe place with Jannie Thompson. I personally saw her be understanding, forgiving and take in scores of people into her life where she would love on them and where they would find healing. I was one them. I’m grateful. #52WoG

52 Weeks of Gratefulness #41 – Childhood Neighborhood

Childhood Neighborhood - Facebook

Image Courtesy of Google Maps

In Week 41 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my childhood neighborhood.

I find the sound of lawn mowers strangely satisfying.

It elicits feelings of safety and security. When I was growing up as a kid in Jackson, Mississippi, lawn mowers were part of a cacophony of sounds that announced the arrival of a new Saturday morning. It meant it was sunny, the day was underway, the neighborhood was awake and that it was time to go out and play.

As I reflect back on this as an adult, it has another meaning that I didn’t consider consciously as a child but nonetheless planted the sentiments I find myself reflecting on today. And that is, I had neighbors who cared.

They cared enough to be up at the crack of dawn to weed flowerbeds, trim hedges and mow lawns. They cared enough to organize neighborhood watches and neighborhood events.

I remember during Christmas, the neighbors would come together to select a theme for the entire neighborhood. Each yard had common decoration elements such as a frosty white Christmas tree behind a spotlight and matching signage with different phrases like “Joy to the world”.

There was a deep sense of pride in *our* neighborhood characterized by doing things with each other and for each other. We were together and it made me as a child feel secure. I pray we can get back to that. I’m grateful. #52WoG

In Week 39 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Clayton…

In Week 39 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Clayton Richardson. Mr. Richardson…

Originally posted on Facebook on Thursday, September 23, 2021.

In Week 39 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Clayton Richardson.

Mr. Richardson called me from an ad in the Yellow Pages for MR COMPUTER MAN and hired me to write a software program for one of his many businesses.

From the very start, Mr. Richardson was intentional about getting to know me personally. Our meetings around software requirements would sometimes spill into the lunch hour and Mr. Richardson would insist that I join him for a meal. More times than not, this led us to Lenny's Sub Shop as he was quite fond of their Philly Cheesesteak.

Over time, we started hanging out just because. He'd ask me about my family and was eager to tell me about his, especially his new set of twin grandbabies. As he was grinning at the thought on one particular day, he looked at me, his face became more serious, almost stern, and said, "Paul, if I could give you anything, it would be this: Find something to do with your boys -anything, and do it every week. I don't care if it's getting an ice cream cone from McDonald's, but do it without fail. If you do that, I believe it will pay big dividends in your boy's life."

He was right. The rituals Melissa and I put in place from heeding his advice are responsible for countless memories that our children cherish and talk about to this day. I was a new father when he shared this with me and it was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever received.

I called Mr. Richardson today to say, "Thank you". At 86 years old, he invited me out to eat again so we could talk more about our families. I'm grateful. #52WoG

In Week 38 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mrs.…

In Week 38 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mrs. Martha Jones. If I had a…

Originally posted on Facebook on Thursday, September 16, 2021.

In Week 38 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mrs. Martha Jones.

If I had a theological quandary, I'd call Mrs. Martha Jones. She is the wife of my mentor, Dr. Gregory Jones, the greatest exegetist and expositor of the Word I have ever known.

When I'd be at their home at 5 AM for prayer and devotion, she was there.
When I'd be debating with Dr. Jones about the probative value of a passage late into the night, she was there.
When traveling with Dr. Jones to revivals in locations so remote they had to pump in sunshine, she was there.
Every Sunday, for every sermon, she was there taking the most in-depth and detailed notes of anyone in attendance -myself included.

Many ministers have studied at the feet of Pastor Jones but a doubtful few had as firm a grasp on the biblical grace theology that he taught as Martha Jones. She was a consummate First Lady and co-laborer in the Gospel. But, she was even more.

When I was new to the faith, wrestling mightly with sin; a whore, sexist, prideful and arrogant college student, she was there and welcomed me into their home as a son.
When I was alone, she was there and bid me to eat at their table.
When I did not have enough money to buy my newborn son diapers, she was there. Her and Pastor Jones not only opened their hearts to me, they opened their hands.
As I grew in the faith, eventually accepting a call to the ministry, she was there overseeing my leading of Bible Study, Sunday School or corporate worship. She did not withhold correction and spoke the truth in love.

Mrs. Martha Jones was there and is as dear to me as Pastor Jones. I am proud to be their spiritual son. I am grateful. #52WoG

**P.S.** As a son, I ask you to join me in something. As many know, her husband, Pastor Jones, has gone on to be with the Lord. But, Mrs. Jones remains and has been quietly enduring grueling toil to provide for her household -alone. I am asking our fellow believers to join us in blessing Mrs. Jones to supply whatever she may lack (James 1:27).

A gift may be sent directly to Martha Jones via Cash App. Her ID is $island59

My prayer is that God would move on the heart of His people to bless Mrs. Jones whenever He brings her to mind so to affirm the love of God and supply all of her need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19).

In Week 37 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for our son,…

In Week 37 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for our son, Chris Luckett. The first time I…

Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, September 12, 2021.

In Week 37 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for our son, Chris Luckett.

The first time I held our son changed me. I was in awe of this tiny human being. I took my index finger to inspect the tiny fingers of his little hands. He was squirming and his eyes were squinting, trying to adjust to the light he's seeing for the first time. As he settled in my arms, he wrapped his hand around my finger and proceeded to fall asleep. As I looked upon his entire hand wrapped around just one of my fingers, I thought, "This little person is depending on me." It was the thought that shook me to my core and changed everything. It was like an entire universe burst into existence before my eyes and I in turn suddenly became very small. It was the first time in my life that something was more important to me than me.

As he grew older, one of the things that stuck out the most about Chris was something he would consistently say as a child. Perhaps the most common question that school age children are asked by adults is, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And, Chris would answer flatly, "I want to be me." This was his response, every single time.

Authenticity has been a pursuit of Chris' from an early age. His willingness to eschew the opinions of others, to introspect and decide for himself rather than assume the prescriptions of culture or those around him is nothing less that astounding. It demonstrates a courage and integrity that inspires me every day.

From the day he was born, God has used Chris to make me question the worthiness of worldly pursuits and to challenge me to live for something greater. I'm grateful. #52WoG

In Week 36 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Rebecca…

In Week 36 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Rebecca Youngblood. Occasionally during…

Originally posted on Facebook on Friday, September 3, 2021.

In Week 36 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Rebecca Youngblood.

Occasionally during dinner time, Melissa and I would play the game "Would You Rather?" with our kids. We would go around the table and each person would pose a hypothetical situation to one another which would usually require everyone to choose one of two options. An example would be, "Would you rather get one million dollars right now or receive $20,000 per month for the rest of your life?" It's fun and provides insight into each other's personalities and priorities.

As a kid that grew up United Methodist, I participated in an organization called the Christian Council on Youth Ministries or CCYM. I was not a believer at this point but I didn't know I wasn't and I was mostly involved because it was the default. It got you out of the house, there were some cool trips and it was something to do. Notwithstanding, it was pretty demanding. There were weekly local youth meetings, quarterly district meetings, a summer and fall retreat (at good ole Camp Wesley Pines) and then youth functions at the Mississippi Annual Conference.

One particular year, I remember the name of our statewide Youth Director was Rebecca Youngblood. Honestly, that's all I remember which is odd given: 1.) my memory and 2.) how frequently and for prolonged lengths of time I would see her during many of these events. What I do distinctly remember was the peace, decency and order that presided over all of our gatherings. I remember one especially moving time during an annual conference that was being held on the coast. It was dusk and all the youth were gathered on the beach right outside the HoJo (Howard Johnson) Hotel. We sat in a circle on the sand around a fire and sang "How Great Thou Art".

On the last day of the conference, Rev. Youngblood gave me a black and white marble paperweight with a pewter inset that was the size and shape of a half-dollar coin. Inscribed on the coin were the words, "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace." Of all the thousands of sermons I've heard growing up, this phrase is one of the few messages that stuck with me. It's in my heart and I have that paperweight to this day. Her quite, faithful service imparted to me something that eloquent, passionate preaching or grand, impressive gestures could not.

So, would you rather be remembered for something impressive or know that you've helped someone but no one remembers your name? It is evident to me that Rev. Youngblood chose the latter. She and many others are like Joseph in the Bible, the earthly father of our Lord, of whom not much is spoken but the parts they played were greatly used by the Lord and pivotal. "And those members of the body which we think to be less honorable, on these we bestow greater honor…" Today, I honor Rebecca Youngblood.

I'm grateful. #52WoG

52 Weeks Of Gratefulness #34 – Rosemary Luckett

Rosemary Neal Chris Family Picture
Apartment complex where the Luckett family lived during seminary training at ITC Gammon Theological Seminary in Atlanta, Georgia
Rosemary Luckett
Rosemary Luckett at Ribbon Cutting Of Master The Machine Computer Learning Center

In Week 34 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my mother, Rosemary Luckett.

The place was remarkably clean as I remember.

It’s my Dad’s first year at ITC Gammon Theological Seminary in Atlanta, Georgia and we’ve not long moved into the apartment. My brother’s a baby and I’m between first and second grade.

Sterile seems a more accurate description. The walls were stark white. The ceiling is white. The floor is white and black speckled laminate. The only thing breaking up the monotony of the space was a thick, dark grey rubber border running along the bottom of the walls. In the living room, there’s a large window that spanned the height of the wall, sitting just above a motel style air conditioner.

It’s quiet, too. It’s Saturday morning. At our old house, the neighborhood would already be bustling with the sound of lawn mowers and playing kids. But here, it’s dead quiet, aside from the muffled sound of city traffic due to being some way off in the distance. I’m looking out the living room window onto the spacious, grassy courtyard dotted with large trees and thinking perhaps I’ll play out there.

And then, it started as the sound of gentle arrhythmic taps against metal -like salt being slowly sprinkled on aluminum foil. It was the first droplets of rain hitting the coils of the air condition unit. The window began to collect a few drops making a circuitous path toward the sill. Then, what began as a sprinkle became a thunderous shower and sheets of rain are now streaming down the window.

There was suddenly static, like a TV without a clear channel. And then the sound alternated between music, then voices and music again, each electronically garbled between transitions. My mother had gone and gotten the radio and brought it to the front room. She was turning a large silver knob, searching for the right station. When she found one playing a song, she bent forward toward me with her arms stretched out and hands open, motioning for me to dance.

She took me by the hands twisting, jumping and skipping about as we danced to Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder and the music of that day. My brother was on the couch in his diaper and she’d occasionally scoop him up so he could dance with us too. A dreary, lonely day was suddenly filled with light. All I remember was the brightness of her countenance and the fullness of her smile as her full, black untamed hair bounced exuberantly upon her shoulders. This is my mother; my wonderful, beautiful, incomparable mother. It is a moment that perfectly encapsulated her as a person. Over and over throughout my life, she took a cold, empty husk of an existence and filled it with joy, hope and love.

I don’t remember the music ending. I hope it never does. If I could relive that moment for eternity, that would be heaven.

I thank God continually for you, Mom. I love you.

I’m grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted to Facebook on August 21, 2021.

In Week 33 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mr. John…

In Week 33 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mr. John Fair and Johnny Fair of Fair…

Originally posted on Facebook on Friday, August 13, 2021.

In Week 33 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mr. John Fair and Johnny Fair of Fair Propane & Fair Oil Company.

"Is there a way we can…?"

These are my all time favorite words to hear from a client. As an I.T. professional, I deeply enjoy helping business owners leverage technology to achieve outcomes once thought only possible for large corporations.

To this day I'm not completely sure why, but Mr. Fair called and invited me to attend a meeting at the Fair Companies office in Louisville, Mississippi. They were meeting with the software vendor for their propane operations about a possible expansion into other markets. And, the question on the table was, "Is there a way we can setup offices in these new locations and have remote service reps access customer data in a central location?" The vendor quickly replied, "Not possible. You'll need a separate install for each location." And, this software wasn't cheap.

Mr. Fair, leaned back, placing an elbow in one hand while resting his finger on his mouth, tapping it slowly as he contemplated the vendor's response. He then turned ever-so slightly in my direction, indicating that he wanted my perspective. I asked the vendor questions to understand the underlying technology stack and then asked whether there was any potential licensing violation in creating "virtual desktops" to access the data. A few years prior, I had the privilege of learning about a new technology called Terminal Services while working as a high school intern at Entergy Corporation through a program for minority students called Inroads. After implementing the technology, they were able to achieve the desired outcome while also saving a significant sum. This began a relationship with the Fairs that has spanned nearly two decades.

Mr. John and Johnny Fair are business men that are constantly innovating and have established themselves as regional leaders in the petroleum industry. They dramatically grew their propane and fuel businesses while graciously bringing me along for the ride. We have since had many conversations that start with "Is there a way we can…?" and represents some of the most fun and significant moments of growth in my career.

Not only have they sought opportunities to involve me in their own businesses, but they've recommended me for opportunities with other clubs, associations and boards that they belong to. As a result, I've traveled from east coast to west coast, visiting places I may not have had opportunity to otherwise. Because of their advocacy, I was made tech lead on an ERP project managing the distribution of millions of dollars of fuel per month across multiple states. Thanks to them, if you've gassed up somewhere in the southeast, there's a chance that you've touched my work.

Over the years, our relationship has spanned well beyond I.T. projects. They've shared insights from lessons they've learned in business that's grown me not only as an I.T. pro but as a business owner as well. I've developed meaningful friendships with many of their staff. We've shared important moments of life together. We've had a lot of hard conversations together. We've prayed together. In fact, one of my most prized possessions is a letter of recommendation that Mr. Fair wrote to a church for a pastorate I was considering.

These men and their team have contributed immensely not only to the growth of my business or to me as a professional, but also to my growth as a person. I'm grateful. #52WoG

In Week 32 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my Uncle…

In Week 32 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my Uncle John Jr. Fishing with my dad…

Originally posted on Facebook on Wednesday, August 4, 2021.

In Week 32 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my Uncle John Jr.

Fishing with my dad was my happy place as a young boy.

Every Saturday, I'd ask my dad -correction, I'd beg my dad to go fishing. I remember the tingle of anticipation as we'd load the boat and hitch it to that old, green, Dodge Diplomat. It felt like traveling to a different world as we drove from the neatly coifed yards of our neighborhood in the city of Jackson, Mississippi and approached, what seemed like at the time, the vast ocean of the Ross Barnett Reservoir.

On this particular day, we're fishing with his brother and my Uncle John Jr.

Fishing with these guys is an all day (and night) affair. I remember on one occasion a friend of mine asked to go with us and broke down crying because he had had enough after 8 hours. Poor guy. This is why the grocery store was one of our first stops on a fishing trip. My dad would buy stuff like a whole loaf of bread, packs of bologna, potted meat, vienna sausages, chips, water and liver -that last one was for the fish. As I think about the way we ate on these trips, I can't help but laugh thinking about how neurotic my wife and I have been about how and what our kids eat. On these fishing trips, I'd often go between baiting my hook with a minnow and fixing a sandwich. Our idea of sanitation was running our hand through the lake water to get off fish scales and worm guts before reaching into the pack of bologna!

I remember the roar of the outboard motor and the gentle skips of the boat as we skimmed the lake. My dad had taken us out pretty far -so far that we've largely lost sight of land. We approached a small island that looks like something straight out of Huckleberry Finn. It's surrounded by lily pads. I peer over the edge of the boat and can see no sign of bottom. I turn to my Uncle John Jr. and ask, "Hey Uncle John, how deep do you think that water is?" He takes an oar and plunges it down until his forearm is submerged. He replies, "It's deep." I couldn't swim so I asked, "What would you do if you fell in that water?" He replied, "Seeing that I can't swim, I guess I'd have to drink it all, nephew!" And, with that he, I and my dad had a long, hearty laugh.

I learned yesterday, that my Uncle John Jr. has passed. But what remains with me is that every memory I have of him is warm and kind. I'm grateful. I solicit your prayers and kind regards for Uncle John Jr.'s family and loved ones. #52WoG

In Week 31 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for little…

In Week 31 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for little acts of consideration. I'm a…

Originally posted on Facebook on Thursday, July 29, 2021.

In Week 31 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for little acts of consideration.

I'm a creature of habit. I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday: two slices of blackened turkey, two waffles, a boiled egg and a bowl of oatmeal topped with raspberries, blueberries and walnuts.

Our family usually does its grocery shopping on Friday but it's Wednesday and I don't have enough walnuts to make it to the end of the week. So, I put it on my list of things to pick up the next time I leave the house. But as our family gathers together for dinner later that evening, I notice in the kitchen a brand new bag of walnuts.

My wife saw I was running low and picked up the walnuts on her way home from work. It was a gesture that made me feel loved.

Love, I find, is often expressed in the extra and unnecessary -that is, not doing just enough but acting out of an overflow of care and affection; an unsolicited touch from your spouse, a surprise visit from a friend or a voluntary act of consideration from a stranger.

The seemingly little things are what often make up the most significant moments of our life. My wife's act indicated to me that she saw me, that she was paying attention to what I do and was willing to go out of her way to help me.

In a world that can be incredibly lonely and cruely selfish, her "little" act of consideration serves as a reminder I can tuck away in my heart that there is hope, there is good and there is evidence that someone, somewhere cares about me. And, it makes me want to be that for others. Thank you, Melissa Luckett. I'm grateful. #52WoG