Stones, Scars and Shavuot

"Memory is frequently the bondslave of despondency. As a general principle, if we would exercise our memories more wisely, we might, in our very darkest distress, strike a match which would instantaneously kindle the lamp of comfort."

C.H. Spurgeon

"Man's most precious thought is God,

but God's most precious thought is man."

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel 

     There is on my right forefinger a scar. You would probably miss it. The scar is small, the memory runs deep. Scars remind us of moments, painful events captured like a photograph on a layer of skin. Forgetful people need scars. As Chesterton said, "There is such a thing as the momentary power to remember that we forget." That is why my 'to do' list is usually written on the back of my left hand.

     Today America celebrates Memorial Day, a day to remind us that men and women died defending our country. Yesterday was another day of remembrance- Pentecost, or as the Children of Israel call it, Shavuot, celebrating the anniversary of the day Moses was given the Law engraved on tablets of stone by the finger of God. Stone makes for good memorials. Stone has permanence. Cemeteries are filled with stones. I am grateful for the stones, the scars and Shavuot; they each remind me I am alive by the grace of God and I am grateful to be alive in America.

For a wonderful explanation of Shavuot by John J. Parsons, click here.

The Thread Line

"With kindness and a smile you can lead an elephant by a thread."

Persian Proverb

     She said she liked to draw. 

     "What do you like to draw?" I asked.

     "Animals."

     "Will you draw me an animal?" She drew several animals for me. I especially liked the deer. It was unlike any deer I had seen. But then, that's just it. This was a deer no one had ever seen until Carly drew it. Part memory, part imagination, Carly's deer was personal. As I watched this deer form I saw line as it is meant to be- confident, intentional, with an occasional pause as Carly would stare at the wall. She was remembering. As she drew one animal after another I remembered the drawings of old. Cave paintings. The earliest record of art on the planet depicting animals. Untrained (by our standards), unknown artists, painted these animals with the confidence and intentionality I was witnessing as Carly drew. I had the strong impression she had never been told, "You can't draw!" Or, if she had, she chose not to believe them. Praise God for that.
     "I like it," I said. Carly put the pencil down and smiled.

Carly's Deer

Sweet Gum

     I looked up and saw a rounded leaf, surrounded by pointy members of the community. Sweet Gum leaves are sharp, but this leaf was not. My first thought was, 'It must be from another tree, attempting to join a new group.' 


     It was not.


     My second thought- 'I will capture the one that is different and press it in a book.' Isn't that what we do with the different ones of the world.


     But, I did not. 


     Instead I captured the leaf with a camera.


     Every day I feel more like that leaf.

Resurrection Day

Dogwood Shadows

Cornus florida L.

'Then the disciples went back to their homes. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb.'

John 20:10,11

     Easter morning, early. I am sitting on the deck, enjoying the shade of trees I did not plant and songs from birds I do not feed. Well, sometimes I feed them. Good Friday's rain released the last Dogwood petals. So, I gather a few and bring them inside. Hanging on the hutch door, a small sign catches my eye. It reads- believe. 

     I wonder, what was Mary thinking as she stooped to look into the tomb that morning?


     I am grateful for eyesight, but I know I can't always trust it. My eyes see one week of gas in the car and two weeks until payday. Fear is a hard taskmaster.  


     The testimony of Easter-

with God all things are possible.

Dogwood petal

Joy Discovered

     "Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strickness." 

James 3:1 ESV

     "It is joy that reveals our true nature."

The Rebbe of Hanipoli

     The problem began at the blackboard. The problem was division. There I stood, chalk in hand, sweat on brow, teacher and peers glaring, judging. The fabric of the universe seemed to unravel as I stared at the problem. I held the meaning of my life as a third-grader in a piece of chalk. 

     Now that I am a classroom teacher I know I was not an easy student. 'Question Everything' was my mantra. I suppose it still is.


     I have said, "I never wanted to be a high school teacher." That just proves we don't always know what we want. After having been away from school for several years, I decided to 'go back'. I wasn't sure why. Something inside me wanted to finish what I began. I finished. And a strange thing happened. I wanted more. So I moved to Memphis, Tennessee. Memphis State (now known as The University of Memphis) had accepted me to the MFA Program in Graphic Design. With no job, little money, and in the throes of divorce, I went. Within the month a friend of my Father's offered me a job- working in, of all places, a monument shop. Crone Monument Company. What I thought would be temporary lasted years. And then it happened. One day Mr. Crone was discussing a monument's size and price with a man when Mr. Crone asked him, "So, what do you do?" The man replied, "I am a High School teacher." Time stopped. From deep within a fire began to burn. Spontaneous Combustion came to mind. And the burn inside of me said, "That is IT."


     God's sense of humor fascinates me. I discovered joy in the thing I despised.


                  ... and there is no longer a division problem at the blackboard.

Radical Biscuits

"Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is an illusion."

Brennan Manning, The Rabbi's Heartbeat

     I never wanted to be a High School teacher. I didn't even like High School.  My goal was simple- to become a rock star. After all, I was in a band, and we played gigs every weekend to cheering crowds in the dozens. We were the Saturday Night Band at the Rainbow Skating Rink. With a medley of cover songs that ranged from Funk 49 to Evil Ways, we bedazzled and bewildered Clarksville teenagers of 1974. Then, there was college. The logical major was music. My guidance counselor didn't tell me that you don't need a music degree to be a rock star.
I wouldn't have listened anyway. 




     Life is weird. And messy, like homemade biscuits. The best biscuit makers (at least the ones I know) don't measure... they add and mix until it's 'right'. Flour dusts the counters and floors like a Fall frost. Each biscuit is unique- a perfect combination of ingredients orchestrated by the maker. Of course, there's always the 'odd' one, the radical biscuit shaped by hand because the remainder of dough is too much for one and too little for two. That one is my favorite.


     Maybe that is why God called me to be a teacher. 

Sometimes I'd Rather Be...

My Office

"I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love

than to be a success at something you hate."

George Burns

     I forget many things, but I never forget to laugh. Laughter happens. Reasons vary- a memory, a 'surprise', nervousness, but the best laughter is natural, an element of the moment, poured out. Sometimes laughter defies our control. Recently I was having a conversation with a friend, discussing some of the challenges of teaching High School. Before I realized the thought had formed, I said, "Sometimes I'd rather be making tombstones!" And then, I laughed.