WE’RE STILL STANDING HERE | The Victory Song | 35 Years Kept

WE’RE STILL STANDING HERE This is the third song I wrote for my 35th sobriety anniversary. And of the three, I call this one the victory song. Not victory because the race is over. I'm not finished. If anything, I believe I'm just beginning. This is the kind of victory where you stop for a moment, turn around and look at the road behind you — the mountains, valleys, scars, mistakes, prayers, things you couldn't fix and things you never thought you'd survive — and realize: We're still standing here. This song isn't only about me. It's about my family. It's about a husband and wife who had no idea what their future would look like. It's about raising children while we were still learning ourselves. It's about sickness walking through our front door when Lindsey was a little girl and discovering there are some things a mother and father simply cannot control. It's about Donna keeping track of medicines, appointments and answers while holding onto her faith that somehow it was going to be all right. It's about a daddy learning that sometimes all you can do is pray. And it's about watching your children grow into adults and realizing there eventually comes a place where you can't choose their roads for them. You can love them. You can teach them. You can warn them. You can pray for them. But eventually there are places a mama's and daddy's hands can't reach. And this song tells what I believe happened when ours couldn't. Jesus Christ was already there. That's the turning point of this song for me. For much of the song, you're hearing the story of a family that has been through some things. Then the answer comes. His name is Jesus Christ. And when that singer finally lets loose and yells: “WE'RE STILL STANDING HERE!” I feel every bit of those 35 years in those words. Yes, there's some defiance in that shout. There were people who didn't think I would make it. There were times when our marriage could have failed. There were times when our family was hurting. There were things said, things done and roads traveled that I wouldn't wish on anybody. So part of that shout does say: Look again. We're still here. But the bigger declaration isn't pointed outward. It's pointed upward. Because I know Who gets the credit. We didn't get here because nothing bad happened. We didn't get here because we never stumbled. And we certainly didn't get here because Larry Clark was strong enough to hold everything together. Jesus never promised me a life without trouble. What I believe He did was carry us THROUGH it. Today I can look around and see Donna still beside me. Our children are grown. The little girl we prayed over now has three children of her own. Our son is grown and now has a baby of his own. There are four grandchildren in our family today who didn't exist when I took my last drink on September 20, 1991. Think about that. Had my story ended where I was prepared to end it 35 years ago, I wouldn't have lived to see any of them. But I did. That's why this song hits me as hard as it does. The artwork tells part of the story too. Look closely while the song is playing. The family standing together. The bright morning. The mountains. The winding road. And that blue Peterbilt tanker traveling through the picture. That truck isn't there because somebody thought a Peterbilt would look good on a song cover. It represents thousands upon thousands of miles of my life. And inside the cab of that truck is where so much of this testimony began coming back to me — one memory at a time — and where many of these songs started taking shape. And yes... There's that little red lawnmower again. 😂 If you know, you know. None of it is random. At 65, I can see things I couldn't see at 30. I can look backward and recognize where one decision led to another. I can see guardrails I didn't recognize as guardrails. I can see prayers being answered in ways I didn't recognize at the time. And above all, I can see Jesus Christ woven through the whole thing. So yes. I'm calling this the victory song. But don't mistake victory for finished. Thirty-five years isn't my finish line. Today is another starting line. There's more testimony to tell. There are more songs to write. There are more people I hope this story reaches. And there are more mornings ahead when I'll make the same decision I've made one day at a time for 35 years: I'm not drinking today. So when you hear that voice climb and finally yell: “WE'RE STILL STANDING HERE!” Now you know what those words mean to me. They're not a boast about what Larry Clark accomplished. They're a thank-you for what Jesus Christ has done. Thirty-five years later... Donna is still beside me. My family is still here. I'm still sober. I'm still walking. I'm still telling the story. And I'm not finished. WE'RE STILL STANDING HERE. Thank You, Jesus. 35 YEARS KEPT By the grace of Jesus Christ. And counting.