Not Forgotten

I learned to ride
the two wheel bicycle
with my father.
He oiled the chain
clothes-pinned playing cards
to the spokes, put on the basket
to carry my lunch.
By his side, I learned balance
and took on speed
centered behind the wide
handlebars, my hands
on the white grips
my feet pedaling.
One moment he was
holding me up
and the next moment
although I didn’t know it
he had let go.
When I wobbled, suddenly
afraid, he yelled keep going—
keep going!
Beneath the trees in the driveway
the distance increasing between us
I eventually rode until he was out of sight.
I counted on him.

That he could hold me was a given
that he could release me was a gift.

“Not Forgotten” by Sheila Packa, from Cloud Birds.

The River

The way we fished for bullheads
was simple: hook, line, bobber,
cane pole and worm.

The murky, brown water of Root River
is where they hid
and waited our return.

The bobber was red & white.
At the first bite it danced then ran,
before going under—and I knew

that if it stayed under the fish
was on. Hooking them (they almost
always swallowed the bait)

was one thing, getting the hook
out without getting hooked oneself
on their lateral and frontal barbs

was quite another. That was
the solitary fishing
that few enjoyed as much as me.

I didn’t understand then what
I needed in equal parts was
excitement, activity and adventure—

and more important than any
of these, solitude, in which my
being could be nourished

in silence. That silence
in which the imagination,
unbidden, comes to life.

Fishing alone brought
all of this together,
because it included living

beings, the mystery of life
from another realm that I could
pursue with my body my

imagination and my mind,
marveling at what I found,
not knowing what any of it could mean

or did mean, or would mean,
as I slowly moved
through the opening days of my life

“The River” by David Kherdian, from Nearer the Heart. Taderon Press, 2006

Shocking photo created a hero, but not to his family

Shocking photo created a hero, but not to his family – CNN.com.

The story of Jim Zwerg has been one of my favorite stories.  I never knew that his courage to be on the Freedom Ride had cost him the relationship with his parents: “These are the two people who instilled my Christian beliefs, my ethics,” he says, “and now they were saying, this time when I lived my faith to the fullest, they didn’t accept it.”

Freedom Riders (PBS)

WGBH American Experience . Freedom Riders . Watch | PBS.

Take time to watch “Freedom Riders” tonight on PBS.  After the success of the sit-in movement in 1960, the freedom rides of 1961 were the next chapter in an unfolding civil rights story.

Desegregating interstate travel was strategic because it was sure to be fraught with conflicts between non-violent and violent.  Like most events of the civil rights story, it is a mixture of courage and hostility and reminds me of the three young Hebrews in the book of Daniel.  Through the conflicts, it was a printed image like the one above that pricked America’s conscience to bring pressure to change an unjust system.

If you’re around tonight, check out PBS at 9:00 pm (EST).  If not, set your DVR.

Raspberries and poetry

Red raspberry bushes are growing in the back yard, near the Magnolia tree that my children climb. Red raspberries are my all-time favorite fruit. Mix them with Coldstone’s sweet cream, place them within pie crusts or take palm fulls directly from the bush; raspberry smoothies, raspberry lemonade, Frootie tootsie rolls or Mamba candies, they are all favorites. But more of this later.

For several years, books about “things and ideas” have lost my interest. Rarely have I purchased theoretical books about theology, counseling or leadership as I did years ago. I now prefer a good honest story; a story that shows me Truth rather than tells me what Truth is.

During this past year, another form of writing has shown me elements of Truth: poetry. Much to some of your amusement, I had become an evangelist for poetry and kept sharing poems with captive audiences even if it was received with eye-rolling. I have learned that Truth can be revealed in just a few short lines of a poem rather than entire stories (and doesn’t take as long to read). Some poems have moved me to laughter or tears. Some poems have evoked feelings of loss or longing for friendship. The best poems, I have found, illustrate a glimpse about God’s Truth in creation, his involvement in our lives or how I might show compassion for others.

Personally, reading a poem and collecting my thoughts on paper is a valuable exercise for me. I would love to hear your feedback on some of the poems or comments. If you would like, I would tag you in a note like this one, you would read the poem at your leisure, respond if you feel like it, and be (re)introduced to a few poems. For you preachers in this note (which I secretly wish that I was), you may find a decent illustration to use.

In the end, I like you and want to share something precious that I have discovered. Think of it this way: Would you like to visit and gather some raspberries? They are too good to enjoy by myself

No one wants to be knows as an… eh’ hem for Jesus.

A Psalm for Palm Sunday

 

King Jesus why did you choose a lowly ass to carry you to ride in your parade?

Had you no friend who owned a horse- a royal mount with spirit fit for a king to ride?

Why choose an ass small unassuming beast of burden trained to plow not carry kings.

 

King Jesus why did you choose me a lowly unimportant person to bear you in my world today?

I’m poor and unimportant trained to work not carry kings – let alone the King of kings.

And yet you’ve chosen me to carry you in triumph in this world’s parade.

 

King Jesus keep me small so all may see how great you are.

Keep me humble so all may say, “Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord.”

Not, “What a great ass he rides.”

A poem by Lois A. Cheney:

 

“God Is No Fool“

 

They say that God has infinite patience,

And that is a great comfort.

 

They say God is always there,

And that is a deep satisfaction.

 

They say that God will always take you back,

And I get lazy in that certitude.

 

They say that God never gives up,

And I count on that.

 

They say you can go away for years and years,

And he’ll be there, waiting, when you come back.

 

They say you can make mistake after mistake,

And God will always forgive and forget.

 

They say lots of things,

These people who never read the Old Testament.

 

There comes a time,

A definite, for sure time,

When God turns around.

 

I don’t believe God shed his skin

When Christ brought in the New Testament,

Christ showed us a new side of God,

And it is truly wonderful.

 

But he didn’t’ change God.

God remains forever and ever

And that God

is

no

fool.

Anyone who’s anyone will be at Ben Thompson’s Senior Recital tonight in the Zurcher Auditorium.  It begins at 7:00 pm.  Come see Ben bang sticks on things.

Check out Eden singing Amazing Grace on Hope’s Xanga: http://www.xanga.com/GoldenBrown799

A shameless plug:

Monday, February 19th from 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm, the pre-school that Grace and Isaac attend will be having a fund-raiser at Pizza Hut.  The child (or children in our case) who brings the most visitors to dinner will recieve one month of free tuition at the pre-school.  Tell your friends!

So if you’re a big fan of Grace, Isaac and pizza, come on out.  If we win, we’re going to take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese’s.  You’d be invited to that as well.