Texas

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Back to the Ranch

My grandfather was sixty-six when I was born at Mission City Hospital in 1956. The hospital was small, but it was just right for our little town of Mission, Texas. I wasn’t his first grandchild, but I was the only one who lived nearby.


By the time I was born, my grandfather had already lived in Mission for over forty-five years. He worked as a real estate developer, served on the Mission City Council, led Boy Scouts Troop 20, and as a Notary Public helped many people in the community.


Yet, throughout all his years in Mission, he never forgot his roots on the family ranch in Duval County. He maintained a lifelong love for the outdoors and returned to the ranch every year to hunt or ride his horse. Although he had left the ranch many years earlier, the ranch had never left him. It remained a part of his heart.

He wrote in his journal about how much he loved ranch life. Here’s part of what he wrote:

Returning to the ranch proper at the end of the day, you feel hungry and ready to eat. Your appetite is plentiful, and by nine o’clock you are already in bed and so sweetly tired that nothing can perturb the quietness of your nerves. The breeze on the east porch where I slept was an ideal location.

Trips of this kind were better than medicine. Your feelings are better served and the next day you have a desire to work vigorously.

And so time was consumed in these routines of ranch life. What a wonderful method of passing your time.


My grandfather shared many stories about life on the ranch. Reflecting on those stories helped me understand how the ranch shaped him. Ranch life helped him develop a strong work ethic and become someone who never complained and always tried to help others.


I also admired how he kept his love for the outdoors and adventure all his life. From his childhood to his later years, the ranch was like good medicine for him. He often talked about riding horses, hunting, and even stretching barbed-wire fences. I was always fascinated.

After my first visit to the ranch, I tried to go back as often as possible. I found that the ranch had the same effect on me as it did on my grandfather. Most importantly, each visit made me feel closer to him. Since the ranch was special to him, it became special to me too.

I feel the same way whenever I visit our off-grid place in Big Bend. When I’m there, my mind feels calmer, my heart feels stronger, and the desert air refreshes me. Time seems to slow down. The hard work is satisfying, sleep comes easily, and life’s routines feel simpler and more meaningful.

Now I understand what my grandfather meant. Places like these truly are better than medicine. Whenever I go back to our little spot in the Chihuahuan Desert, it feels like I’m returning to the ranch and to him.

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Visiting El Frijolillo

My grandfather was a storyteller. From as early as I can remember, he shared wonderful stories with me—stories that made my imagination sit up and pay attention. I loved listening as he told Aesop’s fables, the story of Androcles and the Lion, and other fascinating tales. This was during an age when television was still in its infancy and storytelling remained a treasured form of entertainment.

But the stories I loved most were those he told about his childhood growing up on a ranch in Duval County. To this day, Duval County remains rugged scrub country, populated by mesquite, cactus, and other stubborn vegetation seemingly determined to stick, cut, and wound the unsuspecting traveler.

As a boy, I was captivated by his stories of riding horseback across the ranch. During his teenage years, he worked as a cowhand on the George West Ranch, located not far from his family’s ranch. His stories made me want to be a cowboy, just as he had been before leaving ranch life behind to attend business college in San Antonio.

One day, he told me about being thrown from his horse at a place he called El Frijolillo (pronounced free-ho-lee-oh). He described it as a thick, tangled cowlick of mountain laurel and chaparral at one end of a pasture. The fall was apparently memorable enough to remain vivid in his mind decades later. As a boy, I often dreamed about that mysterious place called El Frijolillo.


When I was barely a teenager, my grandfather arranged for me to visit my country cousins at the ranch. He bought me a bus ticket from Mission to San Diego and sent me off on a great adventure—all by myself, with only a small suitcase in hand.

The only thing I remember about the bus ride was sitting next to an older woman who had doused herself in an overpowering amount of perfume. I could hardly breathe and pressed my face against the window, hoping for even the slightest whiff of fresh air. Toxic fumes aside, I made it to my destination, where my Uncle Florentino, my grandfather’s half-brother, was waiting to pick me up.

Florentino was a towering man. When I stepped off the bus, there he stood—wearing khaki pants, a long-sleeved shirt, black boots, and a straw cowboy hat. He looked down at me with welcoming eyes, shook my hand, took my bag, and led me to his pickup truck for the nearly twenty-mile drive to the ranch. That day marked the beginning of a lifelong friendship with Florentino.

I told Florentino that while I was at the ranch, I wanted to see El Frijolillo. He laughed and remarked that this was the very place where a horse had violently bucked my grandfather to the ground. Then he assured me that I would indeed get to see El Frijolillo—on horseback. I grinned from ear to ear and could hardly wait.

My cousins made sure that I experienced plenty of great adventures. They took me rabbit hunting, led me on hikes through the brush, climbed with me into deer blinds to survey the land, and introduced me to horseback riding. I killed my first rabbit, and my aunt cooked it for supper that very evening. Unbelievable! This adventure was already more than I had expected.


But the greatest adventure of all was riding a pony out to El Frijolillo, the place that had etched itself into my grandfather’s memory decades earlier. For whatever reason, he never forgot that fall—perhaps because being thrown from a horse was a rare occurrence, or because the impact had bruised itself so deeply into his memory.

I was there. Finally. As I surveyed the place, I could hear my grandfather’s story echoing in my mind. Standing on that very ground made me feel even more connected to him and to the ranch land that had nurtured him. This was part of my history—and now I had become part of the story of El Frijolillo.

Decades have passed since my great adventure on the ranch. When my grandfather told me stories about life on the ranch, he unwittingly gave me a wonderful gift. He gave me a connection to the land and to my family. Best of all, he gave me a connection to the boy he once was. Now, whenever I think about El Frijolillo, I can hear my grandfather’s voice and feel inspired to keep the storytelling tradition he shared with me alive.

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Good Food at Texas Tradition

Hungry for a good bacon cheeseburger, Cheryl and I decided to visit Texas Tradition in Old Katy. I had eaten there soon after moving to Katy but, for whatever reason, had not been back in years—probably because it is outside my usual traffic universe.

When Cheryl and I started looking for a new place to eat, I remembered Texas Tradition. Cheryl had never been there, so we decided to give it a try. Texas Tradition is a small, family-owned and operated restaurant that takes great pride in serving a menu packed with comfort food.


Although it is not far from our home, it is not on any of our daily commutes. When we arrived, we pulled into a packed parking lot—always a good sign.

The moment we walked through the door, we were warmly greeted and escorted to a table. The dining room was full of people enjoying good food in a country-Texas setting, complete with metal wainscoting. The place had the warm, welcoming feel of a small-town café.


Of course, we knew exactly what we wanted without even looking at the menu: bacon cheeseburgers, with the bacon leaning toward the crispy side of the scale, two Coke Zeros with plenty of ice, and onion rings instead of fries.

The service was fast. Our burgers and onion rings arrived in paper-lined plastic baskets with no room to spare. The burgers were generously sized, and the onion rings were thick, crispy, and chunky. Everything looked and smelled completely appetizing.


The first bite generally tells the story, and this one did not disappoint. The burger was absolutely delicious. I am not a foodie who can dissect every ingredient in a dish. I am simply a guy who enjoys a good burger and knows one when he bites into it. This was unmistakably an amazingly delicious burger.

And the onion rings were a step beyond. These were not skinny little rings but thick, beefy, almost life-preserver-sized portions. They were so good. I may try the French fries on another visit, but Cheryl and I were glad we chose the onion rings.

All in all, we thoroughly enjoyed both the food and the atmosphere at Texas Tradition. The staff was friendly, attentive, and responsive to our every need. We have now bookmarked Texas Tradition as a place we will visit again.


The menu offers plenty more to explore, including several delicious and surprisingly affordable daily specials listed on the back page. We will definitely be back.

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Chasing Clouds in Big Bend

It is rare for me to head to our cabin in Big Bend without a list of projects to tackle. In fact, one of the things I enjoy most about spending time there is planning and completing projects that make our off-grid cabin and property a little more comfortable and enjoyable.

The physical work is always a welcome change of pace. For me, there is something deeply satisfying about working with my hands, seeing progress at the end of the day, and investing in a place that has become a refuge for rest, reflection, and adventure.

However, on our recent trip to Big Bend, my project list was unusually short. Nothing major on my list, just a few projects that could be finished in a matter of hours. It felt a bit strange to arrive with so little to do, but I took it as an opportunity to find new ways to relax and enjoy the beauty of this vast and rugged region of Texas.

Instead of focusing on what needed to be built or repaired, I gave myself permission to slow down. I spent some quality time working on some devotional lessons. Cheryl and I also drove into Study Butte to eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Of course, we always enjoy sitting around the fire pit to wait for the golden hour, when the waning sunlight turns magical, and the stars start to fill the vast desert skies.


What I enjoyed most, however, was climbing on my electric mini-bike and chasing clouds. For whatever reason, the clouds captured my attention. They looked so dramatic and beautiful against the deep blue sky as they drifted above the mesas and bluffs. I spent hours riding up and down the dirt roads, chasing them across the horizon and stopping to photograph their ever-changing shapes and shadows.


As the day wore on, the clouds eventually joined together to become a storm, complete with thunder and lightning. Cheryl and I loved sitting on the porch of our cabin and watching the desert storm roll across the landscape. In a place where rain is rare and precious, a storm is better than television. As the winds arrived carrying that distinctive fragrance of approaching rain, we found ourselves thinking of John Denver’s words: “You fill up my senses, like a storm in the desert.”


There are few experiences that compare to that moment. The sky darkens, the temperature drops, the wind begins to stir, and the fragrance of rain fills the air. It is one of those gifts that is difficult to describe. You do not simply see the storm—you feel it, smell it, and breathe it in. For a few moments, the desert comes alive in a way that engages all your senses.


As night fell across the desert, the distant lightning became even more dramatic. Flash after flash illuminated the horizon. Every flash revealed the outlines of mesas, bluffs, and clouds that had disappeared into the darkness. The light show was mesmerizing—nature’s own display unfolding in silence except for the occasional rumble of thunder rolling across the desert.


It was a wonderful way to end the day and to spend our final night at the cabin. Sitting on the porch, watching the storm move across the distant landscape, we were reminded once again why we love this place so much. The rain brought refreshment to the thirsty desert, and in its own way, it refreshed us as well.


Sometimes the best moments in Big Bend are not found in accomplishing a project or checking something off a list. Sometimes they are found in slowing down, chasing clouds, and watching a desert storm roll across the horizon.

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Manna in the Chihuahuan Desert

Last November, Cheryl and I hosted the first retreat at our cabin for the men from the Manna House. This Christ-centered residential recovery ministry for men addicted to alcohol and drugs is located in the small town of Brookshire. The year long program is designed to lead men to be set free, set apart and set on fire.


The Manna House guys arrived early Thursday afternoon. I rode my electric mini-bike to Little Burro Country Store at the intersection of Highway 118 and Legions Road to meet and escort them the final three miles to the cabin. I have sure enjoyed riding my mini-bike along the dirt roads around the cabin. So much fun!


The guys wasted no time in setting up their tents and getting situated. In the meantime, James and his sous-chefs, Doug and Chris, started meal prep. Prior to their arrival, my friend Kyle and I built a special table for Dutch oven cooking. James is a master of Dutch oven meals so I wanted to improve our outdoor cooking area for him to work his culinary magic.


As in the previous year, we gave each of the men a hydration backpack along with all sorts of miscellaneous gear for day-hikes: first aid kit, emergency whistle, space blanket, caribeners, flashlight and headlamp, compass, paracord bracelet, and more. We sat around the campfire that first evening talking about hiking and preparation for wilderness survival.


The guys enjoyed several hikes on the two days they visited Big Bend National Park. Each night we sat around the campfire for a debrief on the day. So much fun to hear about how much they enjoyed the park. And, of course, the guys lingered around the campfire until the stars and the Milky Way filled the night sky.


The best part of our time out west was the day Raul and Timothy were baptized in the Rio Grande River. Having a relationship with Jesus is essential to their recovery and to taking that first step to be set free, set apart, and set on fire. Having all of the guys witness their baptism made it all the more special.


I am grateful for the Manna House and their commitment to help men in recovery. Over the past twenty years I have met so many men at the Manna House whose lives were changed for the better, who arrived in a state of despair and desperation and left with a new hope and a new future.


Cheryl and I consider it a blessing to host these men at Dos Arbolitos, our little slice of heaven in the Chihuahuan Desert. Our prayer is that God would bless us with many more years of good health to continuing hosting outdoor adventures for boys and for men and helping them to connect with the One who created the beauty of Big Bend.

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An Adventure Deep in the Heart of Texas

In November 2022, Big Bend National Park topped National Geographic’s Best of the World Travel List. Located in the vast Chihuahuan Desert, Big Bend also boasts the darkest night skies in the nation. It’s one of the places that affirms “the stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas.”

In 2018, my wife Cheryl and I purchased the first of our off-grid tracts deep in the heart of Texas. Beckoned by the wide open spaces, distant mesas, deafening silence, and endless skies, we established Dos Arbolitos, our off-grid base camp for solitude and adventure in the Big Bend Valley section of the vast Terlingua Ranch.

One of our dreams for Dos Arbolitos was to host adventures for boys and dads and also for boys without dads. That dream came true three years ago when we hosted our first Big Bend Adventure for boys from fatherless homes in partnership with The Hangar, a Christian nonprofit situated in Brookshire.


The Brookshire community, located west of Houston, has the highest percentage of fatherless homes in the greater Houston area. The Hangar, a ministry of Eyes on Me, exists to mentor, disciple, and serve at-risk youth and their families.


This week, we hosted the third annual Big Bend Adventure for boys (and their mentors) from Brookshire. This is one of my favorite weeks of the year. The adventure is designed to provide opportunities for good conversations between the boys and mentors around the campfire and on the trails.

One of the key things we focus on is teaching the boys that it is better to do life in community with others because alone is dangerous. We teach them the importance of watching out for one another on the trails. And, the work projects we plan can only be accomplished by cooperating and working well with others.


The boys arrived at Dos Arbolitos on Sunday afternoon. The first order of business was pitching tents and setting up their respective campsites. For many of the first-timers, this was the first time they had set up a tent. It was nice to see the older boys teaching the younger boys how it’s done.


James Meredith returned for the third time to serve as camp chef. I don’t know of a better guy to cook for a campout than James. He is a master at cooking on grills, griddles, Dutch ovens, and campfires — and usually uses all of these to prepare a single delicious meal. James is, understandably, a very popular guy on the campout.

On the first night of the adventure, we sat around the campfire and presented the boys with their hiking gear. We gave each boy their own hydration backpack, first aid kit, headlamp and flashlight, survival blanket, whistle, compass, and more. We explained each item and why they are necessary for the adventure — and then used each item as a metaphor to talk about an aspect of their walk with Christ.


After giving the boys their gear, one of the youngest guys on the team sat wide-eyed at all that he had received. He looked at one of the mentors and asked, “Do I have to give all of this back after the hike?” He was blown away to hear that this was now his own personal gear and that he dId not have to return it after the adventure. I don’t think he took off his backpack the whole time we were together.


I invited my friend Joseph Bear, known as Yogi to locals, to do a star party for the boys. Yogi and my Big Bend neighbors Chris and Ken were kind enough to set up one of his large telescopes. Yogi told stories about the night sky. The boys enjoyed looking the moon, planets, and stars. My neighbor Chris took a great pic of the moon through lens of the telescope.


As in previous years, the boys spent two days on day-hikes in Big Bend National Park. This is always an eye-opening, jaw-dropping experience for these boys who live in tough urban settings. The hikes are also an opportunity for mentors to talk about outdoor preparedness and safety and why adventuring alone can be dangerous.


We also set aside one day to do tasks around the property — jobs that can only be done by communicating and cooperating well with others. These included clearing fence line, bracing corner posts for a new section of fencing, addressing some erosion, and adding t-posts for future fencing.


These tasks are hard and require attention to detail and looking out for the guys working beside you. After working on a section of fencing, one boy shared his thoughts around the campfire. “This was one of the hardest things I have ever done,” he said. “And now I know that I can do hard things.” Wow! That is a valuable take-away for a young man.


One of the boys worked beside Ian, one of the mentors. As they cleared brush for a future fence, Ian shared the story of Jesus with Gavin. After a long conversation, Gavin placed his faith in Christ for salvation and was later baptized in the Rio Grande River along with four other boys.


My favorite night was our final night around the campfire. On that night Dennis, the executive director of Eyes On Me, the non-profit that directs the outreach to at-risk homes in Brookshire, asked the boys to affirm one another. The boys then took turns speaking words of encouragement and affirmation to one another. The words spoken were better than food for many of these boys who seldom receive such affirmation.


This Third Annual Big Bend Adventure was so much fun and a huge success. The boys were so appreciative of the opportunity to participate in the adventure and returned home tired but encouraged by their time under the vast Big Bend skies, deep in the heart of Texas.

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Texas Proud

There is little, if any, doubt that Texans are a proud people. Anywhere you venture within the broad expanse of the Lone Star State, you can see Texas pride on display. The very shape of Texas makes it one of the most easily recognizable states in the Union. The same can be said of our Lone Star emblazoned flag. Texans use both of these iconic symbols to identify their love and pride for the place they call home.
Texas Flag WavingSomeone once said that Texas is a state of mind. And indeed it is. But it is more than that. New York born author John Steinbeck wrote, “For all its enormous range of space, climate, and physical appearance, and for all the internal squabbles, contentions, and strivings, Texas has a tight cohesiveness perhaps stronger than any other section of America. Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study and the passionate possession of all Texans.”
Texas Flag BarnFrom its earliest days, Texas has inspired a loyalty from both native born Texans and those who were born elsewhere but got to Texas as quick as they could. Tennessee-born Frontiersman Davy Crockett, also known as the King of the Wild Frontier, said, “You may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.” That quote reminds me of the line in the song by Chris Wall, a singer-songwriter from Austin: “I’d rather be a fencepost in Texas, than the king of Tennessee.”
Texas Flag PorchAs a kid, I went to see the movie Hellfighters, the story based on the life of Red Adair. John Wayne played the role of this Texas oil field legend who battled oil well fires all over the world. The real Red Adair said, “I’ve traveled all over the world, but I don’t think there is any place better than Texas.” I agree with Red. I have traveled to more than forty countries and there is nothing better than coming home to Texas.
Texas Flag TruckThe bottom line is that I love everything about our great state — beaches and bluebonnets, expansive skies and extraordinary sunsets, barbecue and burgers, country music and mariachi bands, the Chihuahuan Desert and pine forests. In the words of a proud Texan: “If you’re lucky enough to live in Texas, then you’re lucky enough.”