"Employment..............................."

I work in an Elementary Special-Education Autism unit. This year there are presently seven children in our room, a number that may change at any time during the nine months of this particular session. It is a job wherein I am continually restoring shoes to little feet that prefer a sensory connection with the floor and double-knotting shoelaces does little to restrict their desire to “take a walk on the wild side”. My days know many trips to the bathroom in the nurse’s station positioned just next door, two of the boys yet untrained in “toiletry etiquette”, the others needing merely a presence there to ensure “business is maintained”. In between lessons and activities, I consistently “shuffle the deck” in so far as their taking turns with an Ipad provided by one of their parents and two computers, only one of which is connected to the Internet. Silence within our spaces is seldom experienced for any length of time. Indeed, the other day while escorting the crew out to the playground, in travelling through hallways designated as “no noise zero level” areas, I commented on our surely causing some to wonder who's passing through, since at least three or four of our kids are almost always emitting some sort of audible laughter or displeasure, nothing, however, that might be taken for linguistics… These are individuals with identities of their own and, more importantly for us to remember, possessing a soul and a spirit just like any of us. While their communication skills may function better with the use of imagery, that doesn’t make it impossible them to achieve goals, to grow as they go. God’s heart knows His creation “from the inside out”; and what I want is to know His heart through His eyes, that this never becomes just a paycheck, but remains a privilege given, a door opened unto an old man…….

"Incidents..........................."

Yesterday morning I sat in a 2nd grade classroom with my charge for about twenty minutes of his music lesson, the kids sitting on the floor around the teacher as we entered, he and I utilizing a couple of chairs on their outer perimeter. They were playing some sort of “guess what’s in the paper bag” game in the beginning, but quickly evolved into being paired with one another, their mission being to create some artistic manner in which different cultures might greet one another. “Jambo, jambo, sano jambo”, African for “Hello, hello, hello to everybody” was played over and over for them as they devised simple choreography other than a handshake; then everyone returned to the floor and two little girls, from a multitude of hands volunteering to be first, were chosen for the honor. Enthusiasm, for one of them, quickly evolved into terror. She stood there frozen for a few moments, unable to remember what to do, tears forming in her eyes, trapped in an awkward situation and welcoming the teacher’s invitation to try again later... I don’t recall any similar events in my own childhood years, nothing specific, anyway; but that’s not to say it never happened. It’s probably safe to say that most, if not all of us, were scarred in one way or another along the way. Embarrassed. Made to feel inferior. Insignificant in so much as what really happened, perhaps; but nonetheless a part of who we are today. Remember, though: only “a part”. To understand each of us would require a walk in each individual’s shoes, experiencing their history through their “eyes”, through their reception of and their reaction to each moment. We are, indeed, “singular” in our creation and in need of His connection with us as we go. He, alone, meets us and completes us in the journey……

"Gatherings................................"

Wednesday evening’s Bible study population appears to be growing. That doesn’t surprise me, though, for a number of reasons. In the first place, the instructor isn’t one of those who see such a position as a pulpit built for him to reproduce himself. He leads and he listens, allowing others to bring their views into the lesson. We talk about “life”, about the Word as we have found it to be true, not just chapter and verse as explored through some theological microscope. Scripture is utilized as “undergirding” for our perspectives, but not maintained as being perfect in so far as our understanding of it. We are not trying to convince anyone of our possessing truth. We’re just honestly sharing our journey thus far… There is no class next week because of one of those three or four day “celebrity” revivals (that are much too often more about having “church” than they are about any examination of self) being scheduled instead; and our monthly visit to the rescue mission eliminates my being able to attend the week after. It’s good, though, to have gained another “plum in my pudding”, something in the way of fellowship with believers, healthy discussion that feeds my soul. I have not abandoned the sanctuary. People are people; and I are one of them. He, not me, will judge it all in the end……

"Climate Changes......................."

Labor Day weekend, here in northern Kentucky, began with temperatures in the upper nineties, oppressive heat that kept most people indoors. Monday morning it was as if someone had thrown a switch, gray overcast clouds covering the skies, threatening rain but never producing any, wind never more than a chilly breeze down one’s neck, constantly removing the tin foil covering those various dishes of food brought to our gathering on my friend’s back porch. Normally we would all have been playing corn-hole, tossing horseshoes, and scattered across the back yard seeking shade from the sun. With a sudden thirty degree drop of the thermometer sending some into the house, the rest of us sat huddling in hoodies and sweatshirts, me doing my best to find warmth in a hot cup of coffee. Jokingly I pondered if Earth’s orbit hadn’t somehow been altered, no more eccentric, but rectangular in shape, our planet merely having turned a corner out there, seasons no longer revolving door, but the flip of a page, next chapter in progress…. If Sunday morning’s sermon had me on the edge of my seat, the pastor connecting with me in the journey as I have found it to be in Christ, preaching on a faith that abides within, one not needing to be manufactured on the spur of the moment in the middle of a storm, the message he delivered that evening left me disappointed. It was centered on Daniel’s interpretation of “Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin” given unto Belteshazzar and spoke of a “transformation of health and wealth” coming to those who could read “the writing on the wall”. I would leave a little over half-way through it. Amazing to me how, out of the same Book, we all build our individual theologies, shaping its content into our own version of truth. Amusing to me how, within the same sanctuary, the environment weathers over a period of time and sometimes, even on the same day, out of the same vessel what blows through can drastically differ in what it brings to this old man……

"Hooked.........................."

Saturday morning, while waiting on Beth at her hairdresser’s, I glanced through an old issue of Reader’s Digest and came upon a list of “lessons” that people claim to have “learned from their kids”. One in particular – “To take time to play with rocks along the way” – really bore witness with me. What does it mean? From my perspective, it speaks of one not needing a room full of expensive toys to have fun, of not requiring a trip to Disneyland to discover a magic kingdom. Whether or not such wisdom was gained from raising my three daughters, however, is probably debatable. At one point in our life, we all were young, the world a mysterious excitement meant to be explored. Somewhere along the way, most of us just seem to lose the “freshness” of every new day, commitment, responsibilities, and the reality of “the dark side” draining us of all our exuberance, leading us to settle, instead, for vacations, “hobbies”, whatever piece of the pie we think might feed our hunger at the time…. Sunday morning’s sermon hit me right in the depths of all I believe, the pastor taking us to that small boat about to sink in the storm-tossed waters of the Sea of Galilee. Christ’s rebuke of “O ye of little faith”, he said, did not refer to the disciples not possessing knowledge of the Master’s ability to handle the situation, but of their waiting until the last minute before seeking His presence in the matter! Experienced sailors sat there among them, men fully aware of what the ominous clouds, increasing wind, and choppy waves foretold; but all, rather than seeking His advice, chose to trust their own skills, face their own fears. Does not He promise to go with us, from the moment of our conversion, to abide in the very center of our existence, to rise and meet us out of our “belly”? Do not we know His assurance as a tangible connection therein with His peace, His grace, His hand in the journey? Such anchor-line allows time to “play with the rocks along the way”, to “smell the roses” as we walk with Him through the garden……

"Witness.................................."

Afternoon recess, today, was another heat-soaked experience, a few trees providing some shade, but not much of a breeze helping to cool things off. The kids were making good use of the swing set and a few were even peddling their tricycles around in the enclosed area; but just as many or more did their best to avoid the sun, finding shelter beneath the slide, inside a small open-air structure which allows them to sit as a table with a roof over their head. In truth, we weren’t out there long. While we were there, however, I asked my co-worker about the phone-call she had received yesterday and learned that, not only was it her pastor’s home that had burned down, but also this had been the third house for him to see destroyed there in such manner. If that bit of revelation gave me reason to pause, though, it didn’t come close to shaking me as much as the counsel she supposedly offered him. In her usual way of just “telling it the way she sees it”, my friend told the preacher that “Maybe God is trying to warn you to not plant your feet here!”… I do have faith in the lady. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t meaning to imply that the Creator would stoop to arson just to get a message across; but, in truth, I am of the opinion that she might have better impressed him had she suggested his ministry was so anointed that perhaps the devil was trying to get him to leave. Regardless, my own theology believes things just “happen”. As far as who they happen “to” is also pretty much a matter of serendipity. Someone wise once said that “The rain falls upon both the just and the unjust; but mostly on the just, because the unjust has probably stolen the just’s umbrella”; but, even if there’s anything to their logic, what’s important is simply having Him as our promise in the middle of whatever comes our way. Heat, fire, or no more than people with good intentions: He is our best source of refuge……

"Unexpected..............................."

One huge dark cloud was positioned over my drive to school this morning, the sunlight clearly defining its perimeters, the sky elsewhere serving notice that any serious threat of rain was not really in the picture. The ominous mass above me, however, was appropriate for my mood, my thoughts on the loss of a friend Wednesday afternoon, an acquaintance from church, actually, but a nice guy, sixty-two years of age and suddenly no more. It was a freak accident, he, high in the air working in a cherry-picker, trying to remove a limb from a tall tree. Things happen… The day would, indeed, evolve into the nineties, the playground at school oppressive, kids somewhat lethargic in their amusement, adults seeking a bench in the shade and hoping for a cool breeze; but my mind kept returning to the reality of life. A co-worker’s phone, while we were involved with those few moments of recess, brought her news of a neighbor’s house having burned to the ground. All were just outside, about to leave, when the husband noticed smoke. Things change; and it doesn’t always take a lot of time for one’s world to disappear… What we’re offered is an anchor-line, a source of strength, an oasis of His presence to meet us in all needs. In that I trust. In that I find peace……….