A Family to Mirror, The Chapman's

Typically most of my articles are full of optimism and happy family events. I am usually that kind of person, but it just so happens that this article is centered around tragedy with a message of Hope. As a musician, we have many mentors and people we admire. There is one who stands out in my mind that I have always put on a pedestal above all other musicians. When I was 15 my mom and dad gave me my first CD player accompanied by the latest Amy Grant CD and some long haired guy named Steven Curtis Chapman. Amy Grant wasn't really my taste of music so I tried the other guy. This wonderful orchestral music filled the room in CD Quality sound and followed immediately by "The Great Adventure" and I was hooked.



It was Steven Curtis Chapman who inspired me to learn to play the guitar even though I'd never met the guy. Funny how that is, huh? I knew then that his style of Christian Music was identical to my style so like every dreamy eyed teenager with a guitar I would mimic his every song. Once I learned to somewhat fake, I mean play the guitar I started leading praise and worship for my youth group and many other venues. My then church leader (later I would call my father-n-law) always joked and called me Steven Curtis Childress, which might offend some people to be called someone they are not, but I took with immense pride. That $13.99 CD I received that Christmas was one of the greatest physical gifts I had ever received, because it started me down a path I still pursue today.



Steven is married to wife Marybeth Chapman and they have three children of their own, Emily, Caleb, and Will Franklin. Steven and his wife visited China in early 2000, 01' where they fell in love with a little girl, and after much prayer, adopted Shoahannah. This experience touched the Chapman's so much that they felt the need to start Shoahannah's Hope, an adoption foundation to alleviate the financial burden for adopting families. Shoahannah's Hope has helped hundreds of families since with their adoptions. Over the years the Chapman's added two more adoptions to their family, Stevie Joy, and Maria Sue.



May 21st, 2008 was a busy day in the Chapman household. Daughter Emily had just announced her engagement and was preparing for an October wedding, son Caleb was preparing for graduation in a few days, and the family had much to be thankful for. That afternoon son Will Franklin was returning home in Franklin TN. , and had pulled around in the drive. Youngest daughter Maria ran towards Will as he pulled in. Not knowing she was running towards him Maria was struck. Maria Sue Chapman went to be with her heavenly Father that very afternoon.

In moments such as this a family can be divided, loose their faith in an instance, or grow stronger than ever. My heart was crushed as if the Chapman's were some of our very best friends, and still I'd have never met a one of them.



The Chapman's were approached by several people in the media to tell their story. The last thing they wanted was to use Maria's death as publicity. They agreed to a few interviews with the determination to use Maria's death as a testimony of Hope. After watching these interviews my respect for Steven and his family became one to benchmark. Now that I am a dad and have a family of my own I can't help but think if Shannon and I were in that situation. The way the Chapman's have surrounded each other in support and love is how I would like to say the Childeress' would do. What a great example of a Godly family. A family that through tragedy comes questions, pain, healing, but ultimate Hope. The Hope that God is God and we are not, and that ALL things work towards His Glory and Plan. The Chapman's realize this and know that one day they will see their daughter Maria Sue again. The piece of this story that I think touched me the most was the question "see". I don't "see" how God can do this, I can't "see" Will Franklin ever being the same again, "All I could "see" was Maria's broken body on the ground. The day after her death the Chapman's came home to gather a few things for the memorial service. On the kitchen table was a single drawing of a flower with six peddles, one colored in whole, and the word "see". Maria had drawn this picture the morning of her death. The Chapman's had said that they had never seen her write the word "see", but there it was in plain English. The flower had six peddles, the Chapman's had six children, one peddle was colored in whole. The Chapman's took this drawing and showed it at the memorial service. Steven, through his tears, said "See" I am made whole and I will "see" you all soon once your peddles are colored in and you will be whole just like me.

Take a moment and check out the interview: http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=5524419

Clark Kent

As a kid I dreamed of being many things when I grew up. Living in
Millington, practically every kid wanted to be a fighter pilot. We had
influence from the F-14 jets flying over every 15 minutes.
The Millington skyline was filled with fighter jets from morning to
dark. It was an exciting place live to say the least.

As I got older my taste change, as it often does, and like most
teenagers with a guitar around their neck I wanted to be a singer. At
the time my favorite musician was Garth Brooks. I played everything he
played and started to imitate his style as much as possible. My very first song I
ever sang in front of an audience was "The Dance". Later in life God
convicted me and I started playing music for Him, but of
course Garth's whole Chris Gaines alter-ego turned me off of his music
like it did most anyways.

So my dream was set, and off to Nashville I go playing in every place
that would have me. I worked full time as a bank teller during the day
and at night played at local restaurants, night joints, and other hang
outs. Something unexpected happened to me though. I found myself
moving further up in the bank than I was in my music career. Banking
was never a job I had a desire for, but it fit my schedule so I could purse my dream. Banking, however,
was slowly taking over my dream until it became my full time "career".


Ten years, a wife, daughter, mortgage, and two cars later I found
myself still consumed in a banking career. This past Fall I was
going through a bible study of Tony Dungee's ”UnCommon” book. He posed
the question " what is your true potential?” From a biblical stand
point, "what is it that you love to do that not everyone loves to do
or can do?" At that point it hit me. Music has always and will always
be my passion. Can I make a living doing this passion? Most likely
not but it is a gift God has given me and I am to be obedient with
this gift. For ten years I realized I had tucked my red cape behind my
suit and posed as Clark Kent when I’ve been Superman this entire
time. I immediately prayed that God use me and the gift He's given me
as a ministry for Him. He has not disappointed me since and has
allowed me to lead worship in numerous venues since I made that
commitment to Him.

I am still a banker and play the role of Clark Kent during the day.
Banking provides the necessities to meet my family's needs but also
finances my ministry. On stage I reveal my true identity and continue
to willing fully lead worship. Now this is just me. We all have a
passion, a dream that separates you from your neighbor or co-worker.
When was the last time you shed your Clark Kent disguise and showcased
your true identity? As Christians we are given specific spiritual
gifts. These gifts are our ministry in the church. Our gifts always
fits our personality and who we are, we are perfect for the gift. As
the body of Christ, God has knit you together for the art for what
you're good at. You take this talent to God; lay it at the feet of
Jesus and ask "how can I point people to You with this?” God will honor
you and that art for Him. You may be a shy person, but a mighty prayer
warrior or you may be very creative and volunteer for multiple
productions and events. Regardless you are made special and there is
no one else like you. Take off those glasses, hat, and coat. Let the
world see you for who you are, a superhero.

-Steve Childress

Stand by Me

Several of the adventures we had as boys were dictated by movies we
had seen. Top Gun came out and we were all about jets and call signs.
Robin Hood Prince of Thieves came out and we laid down out toy guns
and took to the woods for weapons. We would pull bamboo out of the
ground and use them as spears or carve out branches into fighting
sticks. One Friday night we all watched the movie Stand by Me. The
movie is about a bunch of boys set out on an adventure to find a
missing boy or boy's body. Inspired by the movie, we had all agreed
that night to take our own little adventure the following day... minus
the missing boy of course.

We had each packed our backpacks with the necessities for such an
adventure. Sack lunch, canteen of water, camo paint, a knife, bug
spray, and of course our camo clothes bought at the Millington Army
Surplus store. We agreed to meet at Stevies house at 6:00am that next
morning which means I got up at 5:30 to get there on time via bicycle.
Looking back my parents never really questioned us on all of our
bizarre adventures but again it was a different time and they had
nothing to fear. Mike, Stevie, and I set out on our adventure
promptly at 6:00am towards the woods behind Stevie's house.

Geographically speaking these are the woods to the southwest of
Oakhurst rd, goes to the edge of Sykes rd, and backs up to Crenshaw
rd. Big area to cover and uncharted territory to us adventurers. We
had walked for hours covering various fields, crossed many barbwire
fences, and walked upon several little ponds. This might not seem like
much but to us we were living out the movie in every aspect.

We had circled back around to a water tower towards the very back of
Oakhurst and stopped for lunch. We sat there, ate our lunch, and just
laughed and talked forever. We were boys being boys and there is no
other way to describe it. We had finished our lunches and slowly made
our way back to civilization just as the sun was setting on the
horizon. An ordinary Saturday to most but a memory filled with
exploration and adventure for the three boys of Lucy.

Steve Childress

Great American Pastime

It is that time of year again where kids of all ages are re-oiling
their gloves, buying new cleats, and swinging donut weighted bats. Yes
it's baseball season. After school practices that go into the dusk of
day and then you race home to do homework. The school halls are
bustling with talk of teams, talent, and the smell of competition
is overwhelming.

I am proud to say I am a product of the Millington park and rec.
baseball league. I started my lustrous baseball career with the
coach pitch team the Chiefs. Coach Buck, my dad, as well as Mike and
Stevie's dads, taught this fearless group of five-year-olds the traits
of the game. Although it was underhanded pitch, we thought we were
playing right along with our baseball hero's of the day like Ozzie
Smith or Orel Hershiser.

As we all got older we advanced up in the league to the Bobcats where
we actually had one of our own peers pitch the ball to us. It was
about this time that the sport started to get intimidating and we started to realize who had athletic ability and who, like me, did not. Mike always had the cool position
of catcher. He got to wear "the gear" and played a strategic part in
each game. Stevie was placed in several different positions but all
were in the infield arena, which still considered you a decent
player. As for myself I found a permanent home in either left or right
field, where I alternated with the kid who always sat Indian style
picking flowers instead of picking off grounders and fly balls.
Regardless of my lack of athletic ability, I still played my role with
pride chanting at the batters, and turning my hat inside out to Rally
my teammates.

I didn't know it at the time but it was at Miles fields where we all
as peers began to showcase our talents and standout among the rest.
Hero's were born on these fields that would take this love of the game
to new levels in high school and college ball. Even as an eight-year
old no matter how far down in points we were we knew that when a Ray Fortune or Daniel Hodges got up to bat that the game would be saved. Although I played a
small role in this era I knew I was sharing a role that millions of
kids shared in this great country in my time and decades past.
Baseball was more than a summer activity it was a way of life, a
definition of self character, and a development of pride for one's
self and team. It is truly the great American pastime because we would
play it just as much outside of games and practices as we would at
games and practices. Even writing this story I am immediately taken
back to the sound of cracking bats, the grit taste of dust in my
mouth, the smell of freshly cut grass, and the sight of nine boy's
giving it their all in little league baseball.

Steve Childress

Here fishy fishy

The Childresses are many things but one thing we are not are
fisherman. It has always been one of those things that never caught
on or should I say kept our interest. Now that is not to say we did not
try. We have had plenty of opportunities.

My grandfather was a skilled fisherman. He gave me my first rod and reel
and taught me everything he could about the sport. Every summer he and
my grandmother would take me to Natchez Trace Park. We always stayed at
the park inn which was surrounded by a beautiful lake. My granddad took
me out on the pier for my first fishing experience. He baited my hook
and taught me how to cast my rod. He stood behind me, watched as I
found my spot, I pulled back on the rod, and gave a great cast. At
that moment I heard a shrill coming from my granddad. I had released
my line too early. My line let out on my back cast hooked my
granddad in his right eyebrow. He cut the line and tried getting it out
himself. He eventually had to go to the front desk at the inn and have it cut out.

A few years later, my mom had planned a mother son day at Shelby Farms. We went horse
back riding and had brought some cane poles to fish. We were having a
great day fishing and feeding near by ducks. Our hooks were in the
lake when mom's bobber went under. With excitement she sprung up to
pull it in. I was so proud of my mom because she caught the most
beautiful duck I’d ever seen. Our feathered friend had eaten the hotdog on the hook and had
somehow gotten the hook caught in its beak. Of course, the duck would
not let us help it, so we ended up calling the ranger to take care of it.

Our best fishing story happened many years ago when my brother Will
was a toddler. He had his Mickey Mouse fishing pole with a piece of
hotdog for bait. He would cast it out into the muddy water, reel it
back in along the dirt, and repeat the process several more times. I
went to check on him and saw he no longer had his bait. When I asked
where it was he simply replied, "I ate it." Happy fishing y'all

- Steve Childress

The Spring Buzz

Spring is a beautiful time of year here in Millington and the Lucy
area. Just the other day I took time to drive around the old
neighborhood and see all that spring had brought. However, one
unwelcome sight of spring has always been the wasp and bumblebees.

I've had my share of "bee" battles but two in particular are the most
memorable. We always had a problem with bumblebees. Those big hairy thumb sized monsters would always disturb our spring/summer outdoor activities. They would especially hang out by the grill where we
cooked out. One summer my dad invented a game that became a Childress
annual favorite. “Bee Ball” was invented when dad grabbed a little
metal spatula used to move charcoal around and smacked the bees when
they got to close or tried to attack. The sound of the bee being
projected off the metal shovel was indeed a humorous sound. We would
actually argue on whose turn it was to hit the next bee. Call us redneck if you’d like but we all got a kick out of bolting that bee into the oblivion.

My second “bee” story requires a vivid imagination because folks you cannot make this stuff up.
One Spring Stevie and I had a crush on the same girl who
lived down the street from us. We were always seeking out her
attention and trying to get her to notice us. One day Stevie and I invited her over to my house for a
friendly competition, a battle of the wills, on who would get the
girl. We started the competition off by seeing who could do the most
sit-ups on my deck. We lay on the hot wooden deck, flexing our muscles. The girl was counting our sit-ups when not one but two wasp were flying around me. One saw my right nostril as a point of impact,
entered, and proceeded to sting me. The second wasp waited patiently
for the first to make it's run, as if it were a fighter plane waiting for the first to make it’s raid, and once it exited the second made the exact same maneuver. Yes two wasp flew up my right nostril and stung
me. It took everything within me to not cry. There was a girl present, and one I much admired so I had to be tough. I ran inside and mom put bacon soda in my nose. My face immediately began to swell up and my right eye was swollen shut. I walked back outside bruised and battered from
the attack where my lady to be was still waiting. I knew at that
moment that I had won the affection or in this case sympathy of the of
the girl. I really didn't care but I did get the girl and we went steady…for a whole day.

There are many sure signs of spring and insects are not exempt.
Although they can be quite annoying, we all have our stories (good or bad) that make
us reflect on days gone by and appreciate the memories had.

- Steve Childress

Lucy Water Park

No Lucy does not have a water park but after a good long rain we
sure did create one. The geographical layout of Lucy makes for many
areas of water to build up as well as the multiple storm drains or
water ways that lay under Oakhurst rd.

Stevie, Mike, and I carved out many bike trails through out the
community. We made sure in our excavations that they would be low
lying grounds and would be extra muddy when rain is applied. We would
spend hours riding through the mud and water on our bikes covering us from head to toe with mud. After a good bike ride we would run to Mike's house and do a big cannon ball into their swimming pool. You can imagine we only did this once because once Mike's mom saw her pool
covered in mud our rear end’s paid the punishment.

Probably the best place to go after a big rain was Mr. Dale and Ms.
Cathy's house. They had a nice 2 acre lot that sloped downward towards
Oakhurst rd and were also fortunate to have one of the before
mentioned storm drains that ran under the road. Leading to the storm
drain was a ditch that stretched from the back of the property to the
road. If it rained hard and fast enough the ditch would fill up into
raging 3 foot rapids.

We would start from the back and either belly flop into the rapids or
ride some sort of boogie board all the way down to the storm drain. It
was the biggest thrill knowing there was nothing protecting you from
the jagged rocks on the banks of the ditch and the concrete storm
drain awaiting you at the end of your ride. The trick, however, was to
jump off your board or use your feet to stop yourself before plummeting
into the storm drain. If you were not careful, the current could suck
you into the drain and through to the other side of the street. This
of course was out of the questioned being that you would be fully
submerged inside the tunnel and couldn’t get air until you reached the
other side. Was this dangerous and completely a stupid thing to do?
You know it was but we never seemed to care.

To most people ample amounts of rainfall could be depressing and not be a
welcomed site, but to we Lucy boys it was a pattern of weather we
treasured.

- Steve Childress