by greg stone

Growing up in the Ozarks, my brother reminisces childhood memories battling june bugs in our yard during hot summer days. I can still hear their loud buzzing sounds as they circled trees and buzzed our heads while riding bikes. Sometimes we won the battle with them. Sometimes they won.

I have fond memories of picking strawberries in our strawberry patch in teh Ozark Mountains. As a family we picked strawberries and sold them to folks from all over Taney and Stone counties. Money made from picking strawberries helped us boys purchase candy at Orr's grocery store down the road or buy baseball cards at the local Piggly Wiggly.

"Mr. Holland had a profound influence on my life and on a lot of lives I know. But I have a feeling that he considers a great part of his own life misspent. Rumor had it he was always working on this symphony of his. And this was going to make him famous, rich, probably both. But Mr. Holland isn't rich and he isn't famous, at least not outside of our little town. So it might be easy for him to think himself a failure. But he would be wrong, because I think that he's achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. Look around you. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched, and each of us is a better person because of you. We are your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus. We are the music of your life."

No matter how frustrating or discouraging your day is, know that God gives us a fresh start each day. Just as a new sunrise points to a new day, God whispers anew his love and commitment to us each morning as well. Lamentations 3:22-23 says, "Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

I miss the Owen's Theatre. I guess they still have shows there, but it's just not the same as when it was the only place to watch movies in Branson. It was more than a movie theatre back then. It was a gathering place. As life today moves so much quicker with various distractions screaming for attention, I find myself nostalgic for simpler times.

A memory of holding my infant son in the hospital while he battled a life-threatening illness reminded me of my Father in Heaven's deeper and richer love for me, His child

A childhood memory of getting lost in the Silver Dollar City treehouse floods me with thoughts of confusion, fear and in the end, relief. The memory teaches me truth today of a God who leads us through confusing, dark times with his shepherding hand.

Each day God brings different people across my path through phone calls, emails, and personal encounters. It may be the gas station attendant, the teller at the bank...a friend of one of my sons. Each day I get the opportunity to love others the way God loves me. Some days I blow it. Some days I marvel at the beauty of it.