Friday's w/ Dan #16

 This week on Friday’s w/ Dan, we talk about a week that felt heavier than most. The sudden loss of Kyle Busch, a driver woven into the fabric of my childhood, brings a reminder of how fragile life really is. From there, we shift into the perseverance of Apollo 13 — what it means to keep going when everything goes wrong, and how that mirrors the daily work of sobriety. And we close with a small act of kindness that meant more than the giver probably realized: two fishing poles waiting in the backseat after an AA meeting, a reminder that people still show up, even quietly. It’s an episode about grief, determination, healing, and the simple acts that carry us forward. 

http://www.youtube.com/@DanBackes-Omaha

https://open.spotify.com/show/2ZHWgVJf5Dadq6c1jHFrNC?si=32cc6cc73c8c4ceb

Transcript

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Alright everyone, welcome back. Just Fridays with Dan. It's been a week that's had a little bit of everything. Some heavy, some reminders about how fragile life can be, and some unexpected lessons about determination, perseverance, and the power of simple kindness. Today we're going to talk about all of that. We're going to talk about the kind of news that stops you in your tracks, the kind of stories that remind you what the human spirit is capable of, and the small acts that end up meaning more than the big ones. It's a mix, but it all connects. Because at the end of the day, it's all about being present, being grateful, and finding your way one moment at a time. So settle in, take a deep breath, and let's get into it. So if you know me at all, I've been watching racing for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, every time you went to the store, I would beg my mom for a NASCAR Hot Wheels. I had every driver memorized the car numbers, the sponsors, the paint schemes. And I remember Kyle Busch in that bright yellow number 18 MM's car. Man, that thing was iconic. It was loud, it was fun, it was rowdy. He was one of those drivers who just suck in your mind. So when I heard the news this week that Kyle Bush passed away at age 41, it hit me in a way I didn't expect. I didn't know him personally. Most of us didn't. But he was part of the rhythm of my Sundays growing up. Part of the backdrop of my childhood. And 41, that's not an age where you even think about losing someone. Off the track, he was a husband, a father, a brother. On the track, he was legitimate fire, throwing helmets, starting fights, pushing every limit he could find. He was one of the most successful overall NASCAR racers of all time. Racing is already dangerous enough. Every lap is a risk, every restart a gamble. But to go out like that, it's a tragedy. And it's one of those moments that reminds you how really thin the line is, how fast life can change, how fragile this whole thing actually is. And today I just want to ask anyone listening to pray for his now widowed wife Samantha, for their beautiful children, Brexton and Lennox, and for his older brother Kurt, and for the entire racing community. Pray that they're given the strength to conquer this unbelievably difficult chapter in their lives. Pray that they feel held, supported, and carried through the days ahead. There's a line from the song You Are Mine that's been sitting with me ever since I heard the news. And this goes out to Kyle's family. Do not be afraid. I am with you. I have called you each by name. There's a comfort in that. A reminder that even in the darkest moments, none of us walk alone. And maybe that's the reason I ended up watching Apollo 13 again this week for probably the hundredth time. It's one of those movies that hits differently depending on where you're at in your life. And this time, what stood out to me wasn't the explosions or the tension or the big dramatic moments. It was determination, the perseverance, the way everything that could go wrong did go wrong. And yet nobody quit. Nobody folded. Nobody said, Well, that's it. So when Jim Lovell looks at his crew and says, Men, what are your intentions? I plan on going home. That man gives you goosebumps because it's not bravado. It's resolve. It's decision. It's a man staring down the impossible and choosing to believe in the outcome anyway. And then you've got Gene Cran saying, I don't care what something was designed to do. I care about what it can do. That's a whole life lesson in one sentence. And honestly, I relate to that more now than I ever have. Because the human body wasn't designed to have alcohol poured into it every day. Mine definitely wasn't. I pushed it past for what it was built for. I damaged it. I scared myself. But that line, what it can do, that's where the hope is. Because with that perseverance, determination, willpower, faith, and spirit, the body can heal. The mind can heal. The soul can heal. It's not instant. It's not easy, but it's possible. And every day I stay sober, every day I choose the harder path. I'm proving that to myself. I'm proving that I can come home too. And then last night, after my AA meeting, I walked out to the bar and dad told me to turn around and look between the seats. Sitting there were two fishing poles, like really nice ones. And they weren't from him. They were from one of mom and dad's friends here in Broadhead. Someone who didn't owe me anything, and I don't even think we've met. Someone who didn't have to think about me at all, but they did. And I know it might sound small, but to me it felt huge. Because I've wanted to fish since the day I got to Broadhead, but just didn't have the gear. And anyone who takes fishing seriously knows you just don't hand your poles to anybody. It's like giving your buddy your favorite football and saying, hey, don't lose this. It's trust, it's care, it's a gesture that says you matter. And I really can't wait to sit out by the pond with my dad, old non-alcoholic drink in my hand, just watching the water. If I catch a fish, great. If I don't, who cares? The point is being out there, being present, being patient. Fishing really is a perfect metaphor for life. You wait, you breathe, you stay steady, and eventually something comes back. And the only reason I get to have that moment now is because of is because of one simple act of kindness. One person deciding to do something small that ended up meaning the world to me. So now we'll read a verse from Isaiah chapter 40, verse 31. But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint. So let us pray. Lord, we come to you at the end of a week that has stretched us, humbled us, and reminded us just how fragile and precious this life really is. We lift up the Bush family, Samantha, Brexton, Lennox, Kurt, the entire race and community, and to anyone whose life was touched by Kyle. We ask that you surround them with a strength far greater than their own, hold them close in their grief, carry them through the moments when they cannot carry themselves. We thank you for the reminders of perseverance you've placed in front of us. The stories, the people, the moments that show us what the human spirit can do when it refuses to give up. Help us remember that even when we feel worn down or unworthy, you are still renewing our strength. You are still calling us forward. You are still teaching us to walk and not grow faint. And finally, Lord, we thank you for the simple acts of kindness that break through the noise. The unexpected gifts, the quiet gestures, the people who show up without being asked. Remind us that these small moments are not small at all. They are your love made visible. They are your way of telling us we matter, we are seen, and we are not alone. So as we step into the days ahead, help us to be present, help us to be patient, help us to notice the goodness around us, in nature, in family, in recovery, and every breath that you give us. And let the words of Isaiah settle into our hearts, that those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength, be with us, guide us, steady us, and lift us. Amen. So this is Fridays with Dan. Remember, remember the simple acts we make, the words that come out of our mouths, or even the moments when we choose silence. All of it carries weight, all of it shapes the people around us. These things are powerful. So act wisely. I know I'm definitely working on that. As always, take care of yourself, give yourself up to a higher power, and know you're living a life bigger than yourself. We'll see you next time on Fridays with Ding.