Five Yards at a Time

There are certain lessons in life that don't make much sense until years later.

For me, one of those lessons was five yards.

Growing up, I played running back and fullback in a Power I offense, often serving as the lead blocker. Like most kids, I dreamed about breaking the long touchdown run. Those are the plays everyone remembers. My family likes to muse about the 150-pound fullback, but let me be clear — I was not a star athlete. I was less like Deion Sanders or my idols Bo Jackson, Emmitt Smith, Walter Davis and Earl Campbell; but I was more like Rudy — a "5 foot nothing, hundred and nothing, without a spec of athletic ability" type of player. It was heart and grit over talent and skill. Once our head coach mused in a team meeting referring to me as our "slowest running back" — a very odd way to introduce a compliment, and it was followed by a "but he tries hard and does what we say" — so laughter turned into a compliment. Unfortunately, the compliment lost a little steam to the "slowest running back" line and laughter of an entire huddle.

But that's not how football games are usually won.

Our coaches taught us something much simpler.

Looking back, I don't think they were just teaching football.

They were teaching life.

Years later, my wife and I found ourselves living by another simple phrase that has carried us through some of the best seasons of our lives and some of the hardest.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that's exactly how healthy land is built.

People occasionally ask why I'm so passionate about habitat management, prescribed fire and conservation.

The honest answer has very little to do with equipment.

I've spent much of my professional career in design and construction. One thing I've always appreciated is thoughtful design. Good projects don't happen by accident. They're planned. Reviewed. Revised. Refined. Every detail has purpose.

The more time I spend walking timber, the more I see those same principles reflected in God's creation.

The more I learn about habitat management, the more I realize we're not improving on God's creation. We're learning to understand it.

Our responsibility isn't to force the land into our vision. Our responsibility is to become faithful stewards of what has already been entrusted to us.

That realization changed the way I look at this work.