Winter and other Thoughts

The cold air is slowly but surely making its way into the high country.
The leaves have changed and have mostly fallen.
The trout streams and rivers run cold , and the banks frost up.
Winter is coming.
Winter for me is a special time. It is thanksgiving, Christmas, hunting, beards, flannel!
In a few short weeks I will be able to go back to very special places and will see very special people.
I am a North Carolina man but memories from the great states of Virginia and South Carolina lay on my heart.
The memories, and people that go along with these places have shaped me forever.
I am ready to climb the mountain and to head back to a place where time stands still.
Where the quiet sounds of the New and of the birds fill my ears and bring me at ease.
Where the wood stoves illuminates the faces of my honorary kin.
Where my brothers and I can walk side by side to the woods.
Where a way of life is slower and people are kind.
I think the reason I live in the mountains is because they bring me at ease.
Who else can walk out of a math test and stare at the Blue ridge? (okay well a few of you but you get my point)
The mountains of this state run deep in my blood.
My grandparents were born and Raised in Asheville.
My Great Grandfathers both felt the call of these hills and either moved here or built a home here.
Whenever I am in my hometown. I scan the horizon for this land of strength.
Mountains are symbol of resilience and strength that only God can bring.
Do yourself a favor.
No matter where you live. Take a minute and marvel in the beauty.
Find beauty where others may not.
Live your life with both eyes open.
Open to your surroundings.
Open to the glory and will of the Father.

Cheers ,

McClain

Influential People

Below is a musing of people that have made an impact on me at ASU. From homeless to classmates .


His name is Thomas,
Thomas is man down on his luck. A man trodden upon by life and over looked
A man with hope in his heart but his outer shell is battered.
A man from a tough upbringing but with a sweet soul .
A man who Jesus loves.
Thomas's mother was reading about Thomas in the bible when she was in labor because she was scared to have her child. But God gave her strength.
Thomas is a man of faith but a man of the world.
At the bus stop he sat alone
An island. A stereotype.
"Why are people too afraid to speak to me?"
" I am a man just like you are".
Why do we leave the Thomas's of world in the dust ?


His name is Ben .
He is a man that is strong.
A leatherneck , A patriot .
A man that road his cheap bicycle to class two miles. While other kids slept in from drinking too much the night before.
Ben is a young soldier for his country and a new soldier for Christ.
He was sent away to war just when he was getting settled.
Here is my story that I share with Ben.
One day Ben did not come to class.
I later saw him in the quad and asked him why he wasn't there.
"I'm going to war " he said with tears in his eyes.
Me being the blubbering idiot that I am sort of mumbled an apology and kept walking.
Ashamed I sent him a simple text saying " may god be with you and I am praying for you."
Moments later he called saying we had mixed up our math books and he had to go turn his correct one in.
We arranged to meet back on the quad.
I gave him a handshake and an understanding look and said I will pray for you.
He said "okay" and took a knee.....dang
God stopped me in my tracks and I kneeled with him and together we prayed for safety and strength from God.
Ben had become a Christian the night before.

The Ben's and Thomas's of the world are abounding. We can choose to only go at face value and never truly get to know someone. But we know deep in our hearts that we should spread the great commission and message of Jesus.

God dragged me down off of my high horse and had me talk to a sad drunk and to a young scared soldier who I barely knew.

Let God work. Get out of the way ! Be an instrument for His glory.

I am in no way the influential person in these stories. I was merely a vessel used for God's love.
I pray that I continue to work for His Kingdom and to be a light at ASU.

A prayer and some pictures

Here are some pictures and a short reflection I wrote over fall retreat this past weekend in the great state of Tennessee.


Father you know my heart.
You know my weakness but you give me strength.
For I am a child in your eyes and you give me a sense of peace
So let us arise as a congregation of one for you.
Let us tear down the the veil of fear that keeps us from falling in deep love with you.
"Our preoccupation with the future is our desire to control it"
In you oh God we find a new beginning and purpose each morn.
 And how blessed we are for in you we live. Our lives travel roads you have laid out for us. "They wind through lonesome valleys , come upon brooks , discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!" God you traveled these roads as they curved up the mountain.
At last God we see your will. Your Zion in full view !


Some pictures from the weekend.

The Lake 

Watauga 

Jared and Aaron trying to stack hammocks...apparently Jared makes a great ladder

Aaron our resident monkey 

Thanks !

Hit over 3500 views this week. I want to say thanks for those that read my blog. I know that half of the views are of people I will never meet and some are probably just spam sites sending you here. Thanks all the same ! Also check out my sound cloud account to hear some of my covers.

https://soundcloud.com/mcauthen

That Cliche Freshman Blog Post

   So here I sit . In my new dorm. With my new roommate. NEW. That is the word of the day.
I sit in this room like hundreds (probably thousands) of people before waiting for life to happen. As I drove to Boone today in my car , parents (sherpas) following behind carrying all of my clothes and dorm stuff (mostly instruments) I realized "wow this is actually happening".  Life as I know it has changed. It is up to me to make it a change for the better.


As I got closer the air turned colder the hills grew steeper and that wonderful knot in my stomach got smaller. Here I start a life as a man of the mountains.  Here I stand on the cusp of a new chapter.

I've been gone for a bit

  This summer has been an interesting one. I have had little to no creative drive for music or writing at all. I sit like a little kid on the stairs waiting for the go ahead to see what santa has brought me. I sit as this little boy waiting for the music to flow into my veins. I can hear it , I know its there but its distant.

  This summer has been more of a summer of experiencing the beauty of God in our creation. Beauty where most would not see it (think flower in the sidewalk crack). Such as my drive to work bright and early at 6:30 everyday. Watching the morning traffic pass by I look at the chaos and confusion that is our world. People yelling, honking ,and talking on their smart phones and driving their overly expensive new cars. But I stand there in my dirty greasy green work shirt watching this happen with a sense of peace. Beyond their chaos lies a morning coming into its own. The sun rises up and the clouds break through the horizon to meet me each day. I look passed the traffic and on towards our creator.

  Then there is the beauty that is staring me right in the face. I spent a week of my summer up in the mountains of Montreat. It was great as it always is but many people where only in town for a night or two before I left. So I did spend sometime with my thoughts. I came to realize how much I loved and missed doing such a thing. Whether it be hammocking by the swimming hole or just driving down the "pretty road" (montreat reference).

I came to realize that our lives are so easily jumbled up with stuff. Our generation has stimulation coming from every direction. Whether its TV, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.  We are battered by self doubt secretly hoping that we get a little red box showing that someone actually took the time to look at and or like something we humbly posted on a facebook page. I of course am saying that I get distracted too. I am here to say that I can be very very distracted. I am also saying that I to can sometimes secretly wish for approval .The point is, is that God seriously doesn't care about our profile picture, or our latest tweet.

So where do we go with that? How do we live our lives? These questions go right along my search for creativity. I sit like a kid on christmas waiting for creativity when I should also be sitting and be waiting for Gods call as well. As we go into college next year, or a new job , even clocking in for that early morning shift ( I am not a morning person at all) we should look for the beauty of God in all things. We should seek solitude but also find fellowship. We should seek the love of God and not be bogged down by the approval of others.

Cheers, McClain


Now since you patiently read my musing here are some photos I done snapped over the summer

"Pretty Road"  (sort of blurry)

Dances in the Old Barn

Burnett Reservoir

I-40 

Swimming at the swimming hole 

                                  

Lake Wateree (not related but still good little weekend jaunt)

Black Mountain NC

I just want to sit here in this moment , but I know that the future is bright I just know that I want to act and not be complacent and not sit in indifference

A Conclusion; A Beginning

"I'm here somewhere in between Victory and a White flag."
I sit on the cusp of life , looking back to the memories we've had.
I walk these halls of my youth, filled with pain, love , joy and...
Proof that it had meaning.
With a few of you, and with a few things I never crossed the T's or dotted the I's.
To them I say sorry for not being real, but this is no conclusion.
We have a chance to live this life honestly.
In the depths of our hearts and minds we cry out hoping.
Hoping that this is true.
Praying that this isn't a lie we've been told since we were kids.
For some our paths shall lead to different places.
As we embark on life we look back and remember all of the faces.
All of the faces and hearts that touched our lives.
These people whether good or bad , shaped us.
From the school yard bully, to the pretty girl in your class.
They have helped mold you into who you are.
Not to say that you are not uniquely  yourself .
This is a conclusion yet a beginning.
I know people cannot stand the cliche.
But these words are true , these words I cry out to my future ,these words I give to you and say.
This is a benediction and a prelude .
We all see it a different way.
The question is which one will you choose?

A New Home : A story of the general, a hunting buddy and others. And or a weekend recap.

As last Friday was coming to a close and the sun was setting. A rag tag group of boys were headed North to the valley of the river . Riding shotgun was the general whose old grey eyes lit up with excitement as we were escaping this prison called the city. Phones were powered down, the radio turned on ,and stress blew away as the window rolled down. 

   In the backseat was the hunting buddy. A true friend and partner in crime. We have grown up near each other our whole lives. When we were little kids and didn't know each other we still lived a street over from each other. My dad would go running in our old neighborhood and pass their house saying    " dang that's a nice boat" (their family is just a little bit obsessed with ocean fishing).  

   As the sun was setting on a perfect evening we pulled up to paradise. The mountains were coated in shadows and the sky gleamed with the work of our creator. Ducks flew over on their way to the river, cows grazed , and calf's played . We the congregation of men gathered on the porch to watch this magnificent showing. The peace that this place evokes brings to mind the peace I once had not too far in the past. A place where the feeling of peace was just as evident. 

  As I sat there on that porch in that moment I realized that this place in time too shall pass on. My grandfather (the general) sitting and laughing with us. Our fathers sitting and teaching us. We as young men on the cusp of life waiting and watching anxiously to see what life has in store for us. But we must not look too far into the future . Sometimes tomorrow must take care of itself. 

  We rose early with dawn looking out the window at the dark , dark ,dark clouds that lay before. We rubbed sleep from our eyes and laughed as my dad fumbled around for his flashlight down the dark, narrow hallway of the Cornett homestead. The salesman that he is , he tried to coax out of bed and into  our camo . " Guys get you're sissy butts out bed the weather is going to be great". "Mr. Cauthen , your joking right? The weather is calling for over 80% percent rain" my friend replied still half asleep. " Lets just go for it and see what happens". A cup of straight black coffee and a jimmy dean brought us back to life as we drove to the hunt woods. 

 We parked by the old cemetery ( very cool has graves of revolutionary soldiers, but really spooky. Looks like the one from Skyfall. ) and headed for the woods. We hunted most of the day except for a quick hardware store run around lunch. 

 As Saturday was drawing to a close my friend and I climbed the hill to survey his family land. It was in a word beautiful. As I sat there and enjoyed this hunt with my friend I also felt saddened. He is surrounded by his history all the time. While mine was sold on an auction block like cattle. But life is funny like that. We must create new traditions to continue the love of hunting , and love of fellowship with family and friends. Tradition , like the one we had at the farm is gone. If you had told me a year ago that I would be driving to a no name town in southern Virginia , I would have laughed and said "hell no I have a place 45 minutes away"( pardon my french) . But God ordains events in our lives to transpire to help us grow closer to him and to others. 

  This land in VA is a new home. A place of healing where I can go and be away from the world. A place where I can sit on the porch until the wee hours singing and talking with friends and family. I feel that Virginia has deep roots in my blood . My ancestor General Robert E. Lee was born and raised here and supported his state in the Civil war. My great grandmother hails from this state. The list goes on. I am not just a Carolina boy, but a Virginia one. 

Now some pictures because you read through my incredibly long rambling. 

Will Cornett longtime friend and hunting buddy 

Reeves Homestead 

View from the old Reeves Homestead 

Lower Pasture by the New  

The General himself on a previous trip to the land 

The Cornett Homestead 

An Unexpected Pleasure : A Short Story

    We pulled up to the gate. A light fog had rolled in and the woods looked dark and foreboding  The old Toyota SUV slid down the back dirt road and head for the deep woods of Landsford. Owls hooted , and turkeys gobbled early as we "slowly" walked to our hunting grounds.

    Our leader is a wide eyed and spry man in his early sixties. After 3 cups of coffee any person is hyper but he is on a different level. As we reach the small stand of pines we stop and listen. The sun is rising , casting a wonderful orange and red canvas across the sky. With a sound that cuts through the air a mature gobbler has flown down and is closing in fast. We scramble to set up. Breaking twigs , getting caught on branches and tripping into the shadows to sit down, shut-up, and pray to God this bird comes to our calling.  Minutes passed which felt like eternity. Slowly a white head materializes out of the brush. "He is not liking this at all" our buddy whispers. "Take him while you can!"...I missed.

  For three years and with three different birds I have watched as they cackle and laugh as they alight , almost looking like Good Year blimps  trying to take off.  Curses were muttered , a deep sigh was heard , and we carried on. We hunted all that day , covering close to two or three miles for this property was immense. Landsford Canal , for those who know of it straddles the Catawba River for a few miles near Rock Hill SC. This area runs deep into my families roots and history. Our farm was near here, my grandfather would camp on the banks of the river and duck hunt with his old hunt buddies of childhood. We are men of the upstate , simple as that. As afternoon was closing in , we were tired , sweaty , and a bit discouraged. So we decided to hike to one last place.

As we reached the crest of the hill, I looked out and saw the true creation of God. The place where my grandfather hunted and fished with siblings and friends, where Native Americans lived and hunted generations before. For years I had driven by the river but never actually taken the time to be still and observe it . The silence and peace that it brought was refreshing, reminding me of why I love hunting so much. Two eagles landed on an old oak feet from us, a blue heron flew down to continue his rule over the riverbank. Fish jumped , turtles sunned themselves on old logs. It was truly beautiful.

It was at this moment when I started to feel at peace in area of so much loss. The farm is gone, the gate locked away along with my childhood. But the power and beauty that the area evokes breaks through this barrier that locked itself away last July.

   The rest of the day was great. A trip to Nichols our favorite one stop hunt shop, ( if you've never been its truly is incredible. Only place I know where you can buy a Glock and Grilled Cheese all in the same place.) and an afternoon of fishing with my oldest friend on the pond near our neighborhood ( I also didn't land the giant bass on the end of my rod. Bad luck I suppose).

   Life has a funny way of bringing you back to the basics. Of showing what is really important. I spent a great day with my father doing something we both love ( hint, not the missing part.). I spent a day standing in awe of the creation my God has blessed me with. That is truly and unexpected pleasure.

Turkey Bluff

Oh the ties that bind

We sit in our pews , like children on a school day.

Hands folded neatly in our laps. 

Bow ties, blazers , an old geezer in the back yawns and steals a nap. 

Empty lives, empty souls?

Are you here to check off your salvation ?

Going once , going twice...Sold! 

To the highest bidder?

What does it even matter to you? 

Let this be a relationship not a ritual.

You sit here week after week, 

fake smile, small talk... isn't this all trivial?

Do you claim to follow the man who was either lunatic, liar, or lord?

Many of us forgot his sovereignty and stared at our shoes and the church's old linoleum floor.

Wake up and smell the roses. 

Time is fleeting , even the common man knows this.

I do not preach of hell fire 

But at the end of the day even the scoffers and judgmental ones will sit wide eyed and listen.
To the story of depravity, forgiveness, redemption.

"A Son of Suburbia"

"I am a son of Suburbia"
A dreamer of dreams that are interrupted at the wrong moment.
A lover of lands that have been lost to a sea of blank faces.
Houses one by one that sit the same.
Back yard barbecues , flag football, and summer games.
Street lamps that blot out the stars.
This land is torn up , ruined and dying
...I still see the scars .
Man made game trails that all can follow.
Where are the times of the sycamore tree, whipper will call , and old barn swallow?
I sit and stare at the view in my head. Of the land , the trees , and of the old barn dirt in its can by my bed.
A son of Suburbia , I throw down these ties that bind
Over the city of walls, over these streets to the mountains I climb.
To a place I once knew. To a time I once loved.
Early morning walks through the pastures, I can almost hear the call of the mourning dove.
I open my eyes and see that all is the same.
A son of Suburbia's life is black , grey , and mundane.

A Confession of Sin with a Ray of Hope

We walk in the valley of the shadow of death, but there is a path
We are lost in the dark of night , but there will be a dawn
We are struck down but there is a hand.
We find that our lives are hard sometimes, its funny how that works
We complain , gnash our teeth and think about ourselves
We look to the floor , instead of looking to the heavens
We search for answers in culture , when they are in a book a few feet away ,or in a prayer that we need to pray
But there is hope. Hope in a God ; in a being that is ours and we are His.
"But for those who fear my name, a son of righteousness will rise , with healing in His wings."
So rise from this mire you are in. Bow your head , quiet your heart and pour out your praise , pour out your sin.
He is listening and quietly waiting.
For us to accept His gift of Forgiveness

A Challenge For Today. A Legacy For Tomorrow

     I am a dreamer. I'm always looking to the next thing or adventure. In my room I have a list on an old notebook called The List For Life. In this list are far away places , activities I want to do , and dreams I hope to fulfill. For a few years I have poured over magazines articles, documentaries ...the list goes on. I became obsessed with these future adventures and experiences. I found myself not even caring about the present. Why? As Christians we are called to look towards the kingdom and not to conform to things of this life. We are hardwired to look towards the final reward. The time when we will stand face to face with our maker and hear the words. "Well done , my good and faithful servant". 

        

    Last week was missions week at my school. We heard several speakers talk about relevant topics in society today. Such as Islam, Human Trafficking, and the Plight of developing countries. This week  taught me that we should not only live for the future but for today! We must rise up one and all and fulfill the call He has given us.

      I'm not saying that we shouldn't have dreams, in fact I believe all should have a list of aspirations. However, we should also keep an open heart and mind towards the will of God. People need the Gospel now! Not after your next trip, not after college. Not when you have a day off from work. Being part of the "Jesus Culture" there is a stereotype that we as Christians can only be missionaries if we sell everything we own and live in a mud hut for x amount of years. This is not true. We are called to our schools or vocations for a reason. Yes , it is true. You can evangelize in America. We often excuse ourselves from mission , saying it not our calling. That is wrong. So start the conversation , answer questions, just be a friend. You don't have to go all Billy Graham tent revival on someone. Let your actions reflect the faith you "claim" to be a follower of. Let them see that you are "different". This is my challenge for today. What will the legacy be, that you leave tomorrow?

Be thou my vision

   Call me old fashioned but I love hymns. One in particular is Be Thou my Vision. It's words ring true even today. It is a 6th century Irish hymn stemming from an old monastic chant. It is amazing that these God inspired words still ring true today. We sometimes  get so caught up in the flash and spectacle that is worship. Why can't we take a break from that on occasion?

      We are called to still our hearts and minds to meditate on God. This song is a great way of doing that "Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word,Be thou ever with me, and I with thee Lord;Be thou my great Father, and I thy true son;Be thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one." When I found this version of this song, I immediately fell in love with it. If you get the chance, stop what your doing , sit down , and listen to it. Focus on the words and what they truly mean. Remember that Christ is enough, that God payed this debt for us. Let us be thankful, let Him be our vision. Let us not cast our eyes upon that which is not eternal. "Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:Be thou mine inheritance now and always;Be thou and thou only the first in my heart;O Sovereign of Heaven, my treasure thou art."

Childhood

We walked through the land side by side
Hide and go seek games, tears wiped away when I cried .
Afternoons in the barn working on the old tractor that always broke.
The radio played Conway Twitty, Johnny Cash ,and George Strait.
I was raised right to love and cherish this way of life in the upstate.
Turkey hunts , and deer stand mornings.
Spinning yarns by the fire , and the old whipper-wills warnings.
Lunch at the old store, and a fishing at the duck pond.
These were days we loved.
Lessons learned, and a few taught as well.
Sunday mornings with Pop down the road at the church that preached of redemption, fire, brimstone , and Hell!
The heart of the land beats within me as I go about my life, carrying its dream on.
It's ashes, in my room on my desk it sits upon.
Sweet barn dirt fills my nostrils as I shut my eyes and remember.
Remember that snowy morning when the world was blanketed in white and the land froze time itself?
Remember when we beat the odds and did get home on a leaking gas tank?
Everyone has their story to tell. Stories of love, hate and redemption.
Together we put these stories away , as time moves on.
Will we ever go back to a day where we can stand as brothers and look out over that place once more?
I pray we do.

The Old Duck Pond 

But life has a way of working things out, one day I will stand on my own land, and look over the vista as ducks touch down on my pond, as cattle bed down and old bulls fight, as deer softly walk through the pines on a moonlit night. My children will learn to love the woods. Life will circle back to the days of childhood . But in a slightly different perspective. When I find this place, this place of healing , redemption, and joy I will sneak off into the woods. I will walk to the highest part of the land that looks over our slice of heaven and bury the ashes of lands of old , and memories of past days. I will make it part of the new land to bring together a central idea. A central idea of what life should be about. To finally go back to the basics of what my life should be. Hard work, friends and deposits in the memory bank. My great grandfather had a dream as he came back from WWII. He looked over the land before him and found a place where peace is abounding , and the majesty of God's handy work was everywhere. A place to go and just be still.To be able to go sit and just marvel at life. This is my dream, this is my prayer. That the innocence of childhood would come back to this life. That I may be able to capture that dream that my grandfather and his father once had. A place where the Cauthen Family Farm can find a home again.

The Barn

The Center Pasture. 

The reach- could relate to a lot of things

I reach out into the darkness hoping to grab on to something.
A word, a gesture, a feeling.
I want to understand ; to grasp true meaning.
I know what it is, but do I know why?
I play the part of the calm ,cool,and collected.
But I pray that I will not be rejected.
What is the purpose?
What is the part I must play?
I am here and ready for the lights to be lowered and the music to begin.
Nervously I read over the lines that were written by conformity.
Should I play this part?
Or should I throw down the script of life and act from the heart?
This cliche act of rebellion is seen all the time.
In hearts of angst filled youth time after time.
But this is different.
It is organic and new.
A script that has never been written.
It is my very own.
I turn through its pages
Memories are shown and remembered
This new script is a step into the unknown.
So hold out your hands and reach for this new part.
God is using it He's known of it from the start.
Let go of the old and grab onto the new
Because He, the father has a great work to do through you
Amen

Ode to My House "sorta cheesy"

When water runs through the baseboards, It sounds like they are being hit with the business end of a baseball bat.

The kitchen always smells like the south, with comfort food galore

Deer on the wall , puppy dog on the floor.

Good music, long campfire nights.

In this house many have laughed , yelled, screamed, and cried

It is a protector from the world , a shelter indeed.

It is my strong-place. More than just a pile of bricks and mortar. This house is family

Good occasions and bad ones too, friends and family know they can come and seek safety underneath the Cauthen Roof. 

A new band for you!

I am constantly searching for good tunes to get my feet moving and to evoke true emotion. This band has done just that. Lord Huron is a fresh indie band that uses catchy hooks and haunting melodies to bring you to a place of deep contemplation. Their lyrics ring true in such songs like She lit a Fire. "She lit fire and now she's in my every thought".A wave of sound rushes over you in songs like The Ghost on that Shore. As a musician I am drawn to their music for its simplicity. It is simple yet elegant and smooth. They can tell a story in a song ,and make you feel as if the song was about your own circumstance. So sit back and enjoy these videos!

She Lit a Fire

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJLjzk7DmeM

The Stranger 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rzME0DSARE

A prayer for the broken

Guard your heart for what's said to be true!
Then may a wellspring of life burst forth from you.
Sins in the past , sins of the future.
Only with the Christ may you endure.
We have all fallen into the muck and mire .
And can not climb out without his Hand.
Run from complacency
Seek that which is holy.
Run to the refuge of His Word
And run to the refuge of his love.
The darkness is here but not for long
On with redemption
Sing sweet the redemption song!
You can let go of this bondage and cast it down
"If grace was an ocean we all would drown"
Amen