Someday soon I plan to have a two more categories on the blog page. One of them will be “Tributes” and it will be a place where I give tribute to the people who have had a major impact on my life, an honor roll of my heroes if you will. The other category will be “Quotes from Ordinary People.” By that I mean the quotes will come from folks just like me. Not people like Lincoln, Churchill, or Hemmingway. I know we can gain a great deal from their wisdom, but I want the quotes to be real and relevant to me because they came from people I have personally come in contact with. With that in mind I want to tell you what the first quote on the list will be.

“It’s not like the greatest golfer

in the world is me.”

“WHAT?!” I heard you. I know that’s what just ran through your head, or out of your mouth. And, that is why I wanted to give you the  story behind the quote.

It came from a young man with a love for sports, all sports. If you go to a restaurant with him, you have to make sure he is seated where he cannot see a TV, because if it is turned to a sports channel, you have lost him. He may be the only guy I know who doesn’t go to sleep while watching Olympic Curling.

Not only does he love to watch sports, he is very competitive. He absolutely hates to lose, and has in the past been very critical of himself and others. If a sixty foot putt by Tiger Woods failed to go in the hole he would say, “That’s a bad shot Grumpy, that’s a bad shot.”  I have seen him get upset at his own failure to make a shot he knew he should have made. There have been times I had to remind him that it’s OK to miss a putt, or not make a basket, or let a pass drop.

That is why I will never forget what he said last Saturday morning while he and I were on the driving range hitting a bucket of balls. He took extra care teeing the ball, he took quite a few practice swings, and finally stepped up to the ball, took his swing, and toed the ball to the right…about four feet. I said very quickly, in an effort to avert the coming beating I expected him to lay on himself, “that’s alright everybody has one of those in them.” That’s when those words came out of the mouth of my five year old grandson, Major. He then teed up another ball, did his precious pre-shot routine, and hit another ball.

Wow, I had to laugh to myself, and at myself, in amazement. The boy was already coming to grips with something a great number of my friends, and I, still struggle with. We may never be the greatest anything in the world, but we can come to that realization and keep on trying.

I know I’m going to mess-up something today. I know I’m going to fall short of my ability in some area. I know I am imperfect without the blood of the Lamb. But I also know that I can rest in the assurance that God still smiles, hugs me, and says “that’s alright everybody has one of those in them.” Yes, that’s when I can look to God and say. “It’s not like the greatest ______ in the world is me” tee up another whatever it is, and try again.

Till next time.

Grump

I have no idea how many of my old school mates will remember this, but it is a lesson that has stuck in mind for around thirty seven years give or take a year. I had the privilege of attending school in a small panhandle West Texas community. It was, and is a speck on the map, and it’s not located on a highway that goes to anywhere. OK I will now find out if anyone from Seagraves, nine miles west, Wellman, ten miles north, or Welch, nineteen miles east reads my blog, because I just insulted them by saying their little town is nowhere. They can take comfort in the fact that at least their nowhere town is located on a highway that goes so somewhere.

Alright, now I know you are all confused so I’ll get back to the lesson learned.  The Loop Independent School District is in one of many small farming communities in West Texas. At the time, Loop had a small grocery store, two gas stations, two churches, one is church of Christ, and the other is Baptist. We also had a cotton gin, a community building, a post office, of course the school, and one stop sign. Dad used to say if you yawned while driving through Loop you would miss it.

My class was one of the largest to ever graduate from Loop High as far as I know.  I have been telling people for years that I graduated in a class with sixteen, of which I ranked number eight. I recently discovered that my story had been wrong all these years, and I guess it was an unconscious effort on my part to feel better about myself. The way I see it number eight out of sixteen put me right in the middle. Seems I have always been kind of a middle of the road guy, so I was comfortable being eight of sixteen. My mom blew by comfort out of water on Christmas day by giving me all of my High School yearbooks. As I looked at my senior year photos I began to realize that I had been living a lie most of my life, and I need to repent, and confess to all the people who think more highly of me than they should. …this is so difficult for me to say… (swallows hard)…turns out our class only graduated fifteen people. Now I am faced with the reality that after all these years thinking I was a middle of the road guy, I am actually below average. I was number eight out of fifteen…a looser. Kent stop chas’n rabbits and get on with the point of the story.  

Oh yes the point of the story. Because of the small size of our classes and the schedule of PE class, we sometimes found ourselves combining classes for one reason or another. That is what had happened on this particular day. The girls PE was always the class before the lunch break, while the boys PE was the last class of the day. Well, we, the boys, had already had History class that day, but  for some reason we ended up having to go to the girls History class too. Now I ain’t say’n that Mr. Williams wasn’t a good teacher, but you know if you’ve heard about the Charlemagne Dynasty once why listen to it again?  Maybe the boys below number eight in the class needed it again, but I had it down well enough to make a seventy, and that’s about all that junk meant to me.

Well, since us boys had no interest in listening again we began talking a little amongst ourselves.  Mr. Williams would look up every now and then and tell us to be quiet. Then he would tell Derris Shults, “Derris keep that pencil in your mouth.” It was nothing new for Derris to have a pencil his mouth; he always had a pencil in his mouth. It just now dawned on me why he always had a pencil in his mouth. Derris, unless it was absolutely unavoidable, never used the restroom at school. It had to have been one of those “bite on this to kill the pain” sort of things that tough guys do while sowing their thumb back on their own hand after losing it while gutt’n a deer. Git out of the way rabbit, your interrupting the story!

Sorry. So, Mr. Williams must have told us to be quiet a dozen times during the class, and every time he told us to be quiet he told Derris to keep that pencil in his mouth. Now dog-gone-it, I’ve got to chase this rabbit. Derris, if you are reading this give me a call, I think we may be able to sue Mr. Williams cause that pencil was probably painted with leaded paint. If you are feeling woozy call now! 1-800-IWILLSUE. I ain’t no lawyer but anybody can win this one. OK, I know you understand that interruption, I mean a man’s gotta make a living.

Now the class is finally over and it is time for the boys PE class. We all made our way to the locker room, and changed into our PE cloths which consisted of three pieces of thin cloth. One of which was a jock strap which has no material at all on ones drearier. I know you are with me on where this is going. Mr. Williams was also known as…Coach Williams. (Cue the music, dun,dun,dun) Coach Williams walked into the locker room with a nice little piece of wood, and instructed us to bend over and touch our toes. That is, he told everyone but Derris to bend over and touch their toes.

Yup, we ran a little faster in track that day in an effort to cool down our southern regions if you know what I mean. But not Derris. That pencil held tightly between his smiling lips had kept him quiet, and safe. You know, a man in the bottom half of his class is a little slow sometimes. It has taken most of my life for me to realize that my alligator mouth can easily get my fruit fly rear end in trouble.   

As for Coach Williams…well he got his…in the form of a draft notice from Uncle Sam. We sent him off proper though. Mike Boggan made up a song to the tune of Is Anybody Go’n to San Antonio (If you will put your ear close to the screen I’ll hum the tune for you.) Here are the words::

Is anybody go’n to Viet Nam

Or far off South Korea

Any place is alright as long as I

Can forget I’ve got di..re…oh…never mind )   

Till next time,

Grump

Everyday Christianity was never intended to be a book. To tell you the truth, I really didn’t think I had the ability to write a book, and based on the slow progress of my next project, I think I may be right. You see EC was originally a series of lessons, or maybe it would be better to call them talks that I had with the Wednesday evening worship attendees at the church of Christ on McDermott Road in Plano, Texas. At the time, I had this overwhelming need to share some things that were on my heart, and thankfully I was able too.

It turns out that the things I said over the course of three months or so, were things that other people identified with. I had told the congregation from the beginning that I would be laying my soul bare, and that I hoped God would be able to use me to help others who might have the same things going on in their lives. As it turns out God did use me in a very effective way. I could not have imagined the impact that my simple, open heart, ramblings would have on a group of people.

Fast forward two years to a time when I began asking God for direction in my life.  I was, and still am, making a living as a Realtor with Coldwell Banker in Frisco, TX. The thing is I was barely getting by. So, I ask God to show me what He wanted me to do. You know, it’s at times like this that I think it sure would be nice if  I could be mowing the grass and all of a sudden look up to see my patio furniture on fire…but not burning. Know what I mean? I mean wouldn’t it be grand if God would just get our attention and then tell us, (in a really deep commanding voice that had us shaking in our shoes) you need to go build an amazingly big boat? I’m sorry there I go chasing a dumb rabbit again.

Here’s the thing. I believe God did start talking to me. He didn’t use my patio furniture; instead He used you, my brothers and sisters, his children. I don’t remember the exact order of things, but the order is not important. I do remember reading two books that kinda helped me get started. One was The Cure for the Common Life by Max Lucado, the other, The Climb of Your Life by Mark Atteberry. Each of these books suggested that I open my eyes to, and start living, the life God had created me to live. The questions that had to be answered? What did God give me the talent to do? What do I do, best? What brings me fulfillment when I do it?

The answer to all three questions? Teaching, preaching, and speaking. I knew I enjoyed speaking, that answer was inside me. The other two questions needed to be answered by other people, not me. I have thought I was good at other things only to find out I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. So I had to find out what others thought I did best. Now this is where God gave me the strength to do something I don’t like doing. I mean, asking people what they think your God given talent is, is opening yourself up to realization. It may be opening yourself up to rejection. What if you find out what you thought was talent was just you living in a dream world?   The answers however were consistent. Folks told me time and time again that I had missed my calling in life, that I should be a preacher, or speaker. I even ask the shepherds at McDermott Road, and all agreed that I was talented at teaching, preaching and speaking.

God then used Steve Strippling, a friend of mine, to open my eyes to the possibility of writing the book Everyday Christianity: Life Learned Lessons and Observations from an Ordinary Man. I remember the conversation. He had listened to the EC series on tape, and came to me and said. “Kent you have to put that in a book.” To which I said. “Steve, are you crazy, I can’t write a book. Each of those forty-five minute talks came from three or four bullet points on a piece of paper.” His reply. “Kent the book is already written, all you have to do is take what’s on the tapes, and put it in a book.” Wow, I was blinded by the light! That’s when I told God that I was ready to commence, to begin, to start, doing what He had created me for.

Fast forward two more years, and we are now in the present. I will admit that God may have to open my eyes again, and I really wish He would use burn’n furniture so I’d know it was Him talk’n instead of a bad case of indigestion, because if He wants me to be a “pulpit” minister, He will have to hit me over the head with something, or someone. (Maybe I’ll go into that another time.) In my mind, and I pray with God’s blessing, the Everyday Christianity ministry, will be a road show if you will. I want to go wherever God leads me, through you, to preach, teach, and speak. I just returned from Tulsa, OK where I spoke at the Carbondale CoC at the invitation of Judge Morris, the minister there. I have been invited by Joe Almanza to come and share my story at his congregation in Abilene. I have already been to the Sunset congregation in Lubbock, the churches in Loop, TX, Denver City, TX, and the Prestoncrest congregation in Dallas.  Now I am asking you to consider inviting me to speak at your place. You don’t have to give me the pulpit. You don’t even have to give me the prized auditorium class. I am reaching out to you for however you want to use me. Retreats, seminars, banquets, life groups, preaching, teaching, keynote addresses, you name it. Businesses, associations, convention planners, please consider inviting me to share with your group. I promise a clean, enjoyable experience, designed to inspire folks to better service, no matter their chosen profession.

In wrapping this thing up I want to let you know one last thing. I have a simple message. I am not about tackling the “worship” issues of the day. I’m not into the Greek. I won’t be going into deep theological discussions; I ain’t smart enough for that.  I am just an ordinary man trying to live Christianity every day, and I pray that you allow me to share my walk with you.  

Till next time.

Grump

His name is Homer, aka; Gomer, Homie, Grandad, or for me, Dad. From time to time I will share a “Homer-ism” with you. Today’s Homer-ism: “chasing the dog”.  There are a few folks in this world who know what this means because they have been accused, rightfully so, of “chas’nnadawg.”

Let me use it in a sentence for you. ‘You boyz u’d git more work done a roun here if ya wuadn’t chas’nndawg.’

For more insight, I will now give you Gomer’s definition for “chas’nnadawg.”  To be wasting time do’n something, anything, other than what you are “posta be do’n”.  (Could be like… reading my blog instead of working.)

You see Homie has a work ethic based on integrity, and responsibility. He believes if you have a job to do, you do it, and you do it with all you have in you. One more thing that maybe the most important aspect of his beliefs concerning work, you do it even when no one else is looking.   

Till next time.

Grump

I know, I know, it’s nothing new for me to cry during worship, or anywhere else, but this was just so…so… eye opening to me, I couldn’t contain my tears.  Paula and I worshiped with the Prestoncrest church of Christ in Dallas this morning. We were there because Prestoncrest was having a special introduction of, and prayer for, the babies who had been given to the young couples of the congregation, by God. Ranger Lee Johnston was one of those babies, and he just happens to be our youngest grandchild. So we worshipped God this morning with Ranger, his mom, Miranda, and his dad Chad, and it was just so wonderful. But it didn’t stop there. Our son Josh, and his family, were there too.

So here’s what took place. During the service Prestoncrest has a time of prayer that is designed to get folks together to pray with each other over their individual needs. All of us were asked to stand, and if we wanted to go and pray with a certain brother or sister, we could go find them, and pray with them. While this is happening the congregation sings. I didn’t know the song that was being sung, and I didn’t go find anyone to pray with. Instead, as I got wrapped up in the moment, I looked to my left, down the row, and what I saw there touched me deeply. Standing next to me was my son Josh, and next to him his beautiful wife Amber, next came Major their five year old son, then Mary Alice, their first child, she is seven. Beside her stood Paula, holding Milla, Josh and Amber’s four month old daughter. Miranda our daughter came next in line holding three month old Ranger, and next to her was her super husband Chad. As I absorbed that perfect vision, it came to me just how richly blessed I am. There, standing beside me were the true riches entrusted to me by God…and I cried. Tears of joy, tears of thankfulness, tears of unworthiness. Thank You, God.

Till next time.

Grump        

Hi Friends, welcome to my blog.  I thought I’d start by answering the question I get asked most often, “Where did Grumpy come from?,” or some variation to that effect. Well, it started with my kids wanting to know what I wanted the grandkids to call me. I told them Grumpy. Let’s just say that, for starters, they thought I was joking. Then they tried to tell me I really didn’t want to be called Grumpy. So, I asked them why they asked if they didn’t want the answer, and I have been known as Grumpy ever since.

When it came time to think about how to identify myself as an author I started my considerations from a marketing stand point. Since I haven’t really done anything important in my life, other than marry the greatest woman in the world, I figured I needed some kind of hook. I needed to be memorable. It then came to me that there are quiet a few folks in this world named, something or another Smith. Most of whom were not born a Smith, but adopted the name right after they had done something bad, and needed to hide from the law. Now as a side note on that topic, I must have a serious history of some really bad folks in my lineage because my grandmother was a Jones. I’m a Smith and a Jones!

Ok,Ok, I’ll get back to the reason I chose to be known as Grumpy Smith.

1. Grandkids, as I explained earlier.

2. To be more memorable.

3. It’s a great ice breaker. As strange as it may seem, i am not good at meeting, or introducing myself to new people. I can make a speech in front of a thousand strangers and love every minute of it, but I can’t seem to walk up to someone and introduce myself. Maybe it’s the fear of rejection, or the person saying, “so?” that keeps me from being more open. However, when I have my name tag on, or folks see my embroidered shirts with Grumpy on them, most of them can’t help but come up to me and ask about it.  

4. Google it. Unless something has changed that I don’t know about, you can google Grumpy Smith and I will show up number one. Now I invite you google Kent Smith and see what you come up with. If I am there it will most likely be on page number 10,926. I can’t say for sure because I haven’t had the patience to find myself…there.

5. And this maybe the best reason of all to be called Grumpy. Low expectations! Yes, you read right! I mean if I introduce myself as Grumpy, and smile while doing it, I have already out performed your expectations of me.  Wow, talk about under promise and over deliver. Well ok, maybe it’s not the best reason, but it is good for a laugh when I tell people that.

Anyway, I am just about to punch one button that will launch this, my first ever blog onto the great land of the Internet, and I hope it will help set the stage for what is to come. I think you will find that I really don’t have many answers, after all I am just an ordinary man. I will write some things that I hope will make you think. I hope somewhere along the way you may be touched by God through my random thoughts. And I hope you will get a laugh now and then. If you are looking for “DEEP” on any subject, you might just as well move right on along.

One final note. Although I am an author, I have two high school English teachers Mr. McDonnald, and Mrs. Payne, who will attest to the fact that they failed in their effort to teach me much. There will be plenty of mistakes with my grammar and punctuation. Paula my loving wife, and Miranda my wonderful daughter are both English majors, but they have a busy enough life without proofing everything I put on here, so just expect errors, and just so you will know, there will be times when the grammar is intentionally butchered, but never the punctuation.

Till next time,

Grump