Scott Douglas Vaughan

I've done my fair share of public speaking across North America - preaching, teaching, story-telling . . . and, on occasion, half-truthing. No matter how far away from home I go, I try my best to get home as quickly as possible so I can sleep in my own bed. That's led to late-night and really early flights, and insane driving - sometimes 8 or 10 hours to get home. A few years ago, on a Thursday, I was just outside Gettysburg, PA, teaching an all-day conference for United Methodist church leaders. The event was over at 3 p.m. and I briefly thought about spending the night, but then just optioned to drive it - all 9 hours and 11 minutes. My ETA, I told my Vicki, was going to be about 1 a.m. give or take an hour for stops at a Cracker Barrel and rest areas. I've never met a Cracker Barrel or a rest area that I didn't like. I decided to avoid the fifth level of hell known as I-95 through DC and Richmond. Instead, I decided to take the I-81 South route down to I-77 to Charlo

I sat on the back row of a funeral today - the funeral of a woman I met only one time, but a woman who became one of my dearest encouragers. Today, I listened and prayed as a vocalist sang "How Great Thou Art" and I cried to myself when she sang that most beautiful hymn, "In The Garden." A few of Gayle Brazell's friends gave testimony to her life well-lived, a life of incredible public service, kindness, love of family and friends, and friends-like-family, and especially her love for Jesus and His church. I can testify that she had room to love me, too. I met Gayle last December. Vicki and I were serving as the volunteer narrators for the Christmas musical performed by our church's Legacy Choir. After the performance, my friend Steve Mathias approached me with a neighbor he wanted me to meet.  A few months earlier, Gayle Brazell was battling cancer when she walked into Kitty's Hallmark, in Lexington. She didn't know me, but browsing through the stor