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Hope
When I was about twelve or thirteen years old I heard my grandfather say, “The only good white man is a dead one.”
There’s some sort of hole in your heart that you're still trying to get filled. You wish your Dad had said some wonderful things.
To have Billy Graham come up after hippies played and preach to them was like a moment of truth. Like, well maybe if it’s okay with Billy, it’s okay with God.
I was realizing that more of my identity was wrapped up in the NFL and in quarterbacking than in who God says I am, my worst moment of life converted to my very best moment of life in a matter of fifteen seconds.
She later told that she was thinking about suicide, and that it was my simple hello that had let her know that she was alive.
Twelve years ago, I was given five years to live. They said; “Tim, you have an incurable cancer and we will see you on Monday.” That was the most sobering time of my life.
I was going to school as a little boy and a lady stopped me and asked, “Are you the son of…, and she called her name. I said, “Yes.” She said, “Come here. I want to show you somebody.” She then pointed and said, “I thi...
But I couldn’t escape the idea that suicide would be a good escape. It was like I was holding on the casket of my wife, and as morbid as it sounds was like I was being buried. I remember picturing myself breaking my grip with...
We tried everything possible to make his life normal. He studied in a very good school. He tried to study hard and behave very well. Nevertheless, society had a hard time accepting him.
I remember one time we saw the hand of God working as an airplane pilot called over the radio. His engine had quit in flight.