I just loved today’s concert! The choir was excellent! The music was glorious! Due to the raging snowstorm, the appreciative crowd was very small.
What I appreciated most was the chat at the end by director Anton Armstrong. He told us that the choir’s purpose was not to entertain but to share their faith via the music… and they did… Isaiah 40, Micah 6:8… and then their signature song ‘Beautiful Savior,’ “…for whom we sing…,” he said.
It was a great concert!
St. Olafs Choir – Today’s gift.
“You are the light of the world … let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16
A goldfinch watched Harold with little interest from it’s perch in the middle of the bare forsythia bush in the front yard. Harold was violating his self-imposed and oft broken “no shoveling in March rule” by clearing from the end of his driveway, what he hoped would be the last three inches of snow for the season. It was another gray Michigan Saturday. It seemed like weeks since he had seen blue sky and sunshine.
“Even a crummy day like today is a break from school, though,” mused Harold, thinking about the daily rigors of teaching fifth graders and the mountain of uncorrected math papers accumulated on his desk.
As Harold bent down to push another scoop of snow to the edge of the driveway, he heard the roar of the neighbor’s muffler less wreck coming down the street. He looked up just in time to dodge a glob of slush heading in his direction. The at-least-twenty-year-old Ford something-or-other, crammed with four kids, their mother, and a week’s worth of groceries, squished down the street, past the end of Harold’s partially cleared driveway. Harold gave a half-hearted wave as the tired old car and cargo turned into the driveway across the street. A little girl returned the greeting with her black hair, nose and tongue plastered against the fogged window.
Harold remembered seeing the black haired child and her siblings playing around the neighborhood – in their yard, in the street and in neighbor Harriet’s perfect perennial garden. Two were in diapers and two in dirty shorts, one day as they ran through Harriet’s sprinkler, muddying up her perfect lawn. However, he hadn’t really met the family – formally that is – and he didn’t know too much about them.
He recalled a ruckus coming from their house one warm evening last fall. The sound of kids screaming and a bellowing male voice rolled through Harold’s open bedroom window and woke him up. He remembered a woman’s voice, more than holding her own against the verbal onslaught. The city police made a midnight visit, probably at the request of next-door neighbor Harriet, the eyes and ears of the neighborhood.
Things had seemed pretty peaceful since then, but hard telling what goes on inside their house. The teacher in Harold wondered how the older kids got along in school. His thoughts then wandered to his own fifth graders. He wondered what it was like when they went home from school. How many of their worlds are like a Michigan winter – cloudy, dark and gray?
“It’s probably none of my business, anyway,” he speculated. He flipped the snow on the end of the shovel into the snow pile. “I’m only their teacher … Can’t be father and mother as well, can I?”
The question was interrupted by a compact yellow mass of feathers barreling toward the back yard. Harold smiled. The goldfinch fledged in some of its new, sunshine yellow feathers, zoomed by, then headed for the feeder Harold kept in the back by the kitchen window. The small splash of brightness lifted Harold’s spirits, as he tossed his last load of March mush on the pile of dirty snow.
Harold’s wondered again about the kids in the Ford and his own students. “Do they have any bright spots in their lives…?” Something about being the light of the world flickered through Harold’s mind as he put away the snow shovel. The flashy finch continued feeding as the cold, gray Michigan clouds opened to release new spring rain.
This is how things went today… at least the important stuff.
Yesterday we had a day off due to icy roads. Today, before school I was met by Robbie’s dad. He stood with Robbie clinging to him like he didn’t want dad to go. Robbie’s dad proceeded to fill me in on the chaos that had become their home-life lately and how it turned extreme during yesterday’s ice day. Obviously, Robbie, not the source of the chaos, was deeply affected and his anxiety level was sky high, affecting him at school. He was particularly worried about unfinished homework and getting into trouble because of it.
Dad and I calmly reassured him that all would be well and not to fret over the homework. We then all went about our day. Robbie’s dad left. Robbie and I each did our school thing.
About mid-morning Robbie sidled up to me after having a couple of classes under his belt. Out of the blue, he said, “Things went well.”
“Oh?” I said. “What do you mean?” What he meant was that he didn’t get in trouble for not finishing his homework. What he meant and didn’t say out loud was he received a measure of understanding and grace at school today. “Things went well.”
I usually don’t know what goes on at home when my students leave school. I don’t know the stresses and conflicts, the anxieties and fears that my students might experience there. I don’t really have a lot of influence over that. However, at school, that’s another story.
Today’s lesson and challenge for me is to be that source of understanding and grace that a kid might need on a given day … so that things can go well.
“Things went well…” Today’s gift for Robbie… and for me
I had a clear view of her from my seat. She was beautiful. She glanced around, looked back in my direction. She gave me that look. I smiled. It made my heart sing to see her there.
The organ cranked up prompting all of us to sing. And we did. The words were from Psalm 8.
“Infant voices chant your praise, telling of your glorious ways; weakest means work out your will, mighty enemies to still. How great your name…”
I stood singing, eight pews away from Fiona, a six month old. Tiny. If things would have progressed normally, her birthday would have been two months later than it is. Fiona, born early, tiny and weak… was clinging tightly to her mother. Looking around… smiling… at me maybe… or filling her diaper…. or beginning to feel a wee bit hungry and getting ready to let her mom know…. Praising God.
How do infant voices chant God’s praise? In Fiona’s case, by God’s grace, surviving her early arrival. And whether it’s pooping, eating, crying or smiling… maybe even at me… by just doing what she was created to do she and the rest of us chant praises to God. So on that Sunday, from eight pews away, Fiona and Psalm 8, were God’s gift to me.
Look! It’s me. I’m sitting right here. What? You can’t see me? What am I, invisible? Hmmmm….Maybe…
Here’s what happened today. I was in front of my class, teaching, teaching, always teaching. At that particular moment I was teaching them about being polite. You know thinking about others, when, say someone, like me, might be doing something important like teaching about, say, something important.
Anyway, I’m looking straight at this girl who is talking, talking while I’m teaching, teaching. I’m saying things like “You should be quiet and stop talking while I’m talking…” And she’s looking right at me while I’m saying all that and then proceeds to start to chat with her friend sitting in a direct line between me and her… Looking right at me while I’m telling her to stop talking and she’s looking at me, talking to her friend. It was like I was… invisible… spooky, eh? [Cue the creepy music and the scary fog effect.]
And then earlier in the day one of my students brought in a birthday treat – three big boxes of donuts – to share with the class and his teacher, I figured. Well the kids were in a different classroom than I was before break time, the preferred time to pass out treats of that sort. No worries. Even though I wasn’t there at the time of the initial passing of the donuts, no doubt he would search me out and offer his teacher a donut. So there I was standing out in the hall when the birthday boy walked down the hall toward me, grinning and ready to share. He got about 10 feet away, turned to his left and deposited the leftover donuts in his locker and walked right past me… like I wasn’t even there. For the record, I’m about 2 for 13 on the birthday treats this year.
So maybe that’s today’s gift… invisibility…. or maybe not. I do know I sure could have used a donut this morning. Maybe I’ll stop on the way to school tomorrow…
Nothing says the holidays like the annual ‘Jane’s Fudge Making Competition.’ This year’s winner was the East Coast entry. The West Coast came in a close second. My entry, representing the Midwest, was a distant third. It’s pictured below. Preparations for next year’s event are already in the planning stages. I remain hopeful to improve on this year’s dismal finish. 🙂
Christ the Savior is Born!
It all started maybe ten years ago, maybe, more. We were riding Amtrak’s Empire Builder out west somewhere. I decided to buy the souvenir coffee cup that promised unlimited coffee on any Amtrak train… FOREVER!
Forever is a long time and sometimes the Amtrak cafe car attendants forget the promises made by their marketing forefathers years ago. So, the game for me is to see if I can still squeeze a free cup of coffee out of boys and girls manning the cafe car.
Enter, Frank, or, I should say enter, me, into the cramped cafe car ‘store.’ on our our trip to Oregon. I always buy something when I go for the free coffee. It’s due to a bit of guilt I suppose. So, with my bag of M&M’s in hand I asked for the coffee. Frank says nothing. Fills the cup and says, “Two seventy-five.” That was for the M&M’s. Ahhhh, success, free coffee! He took my three bucks and then without a word slipped MY quarter change into the tip box and moved on to the next paying customer.
Since this was early in the trip, I knew I’d be meeting up with Frank again. My goal this time was to show him that there were no hard feelings about him stealing my quarter and maybe we could be friends.
My strategy was to find common ground, a shared experience. So, there I was in the cafe car again in search of something for breakfast. I turned the corner and there was Frank all bent over in the middle of the floor… picking up the cash register that had been bounced to the floor after the last batch of rough track. “We’re closed,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. Hmmmm… A Common shared experience. ! I’ll use this on my next visit.
The next trip to the cafe car resulted in another purchase and more banter. I said with a chuckle, “Looks like that duct tape will keep that cash register in place.” I grinned and followed up with, “Nothing like duct tape… Heh, heh,” using humor to crack open the door to friendship.
“Six twenty-five,”said Frank. I sensed a thaw in our formerly icy relationship.
I’m here to tell you that as the trip wore on, me and Frank became thick as thieves. We talked and talked. “Pizza gone?” I’d say.
“Yep,” he”d reply.
“These chicken nuggets come with dipping sauce? I asked.
“We have ranch dressing.” The conversation just flew back and forth.
Now I’m not saying that Frank and I are best friends …yet, but we’re getting close. How do I know this? Well, I’ll admit this here. I had wee bit of a lower lip quiver as I was getting ready to pay the last time, when Frank, concerned for my well-being asked, “Will that be all?”
I held it together long enough to say, “I’m all set.”
I think my next move to advance our friendship will be to invite Frank for a cup of coffee. I’ll buy. You see, I have this Empire Builder mug….
‘Twas the Friday before Christmas, thus the Friday before Christmas break. Students and teachers alike were anticipating this day for a long time, probably for different reasons. It was a full day, a good day.
We started with the whole student body, staff and some parents gathered in the gym for a chapel service. After a few announcements, we were led in a short meditation which was pretty much a cheer that everyone but me seemed to know. It ended with something like, “Go Jesus!” I could have just as well gone “… Go Comets, or Eagles or Rockets! … But ’tis the season, so “Go Jesus!”
The pep rally atmosphere continued with, “Get your hands together…”, from the song leader as he skillfully led us through every carol known to man, one right after another. The keyboard provided the synthesized rhythm as the students bounced, wiggled and danced to ‘Joy to the World’ … ‘Oh Come all Ye Faithful’ … and many more.
There’s nothing like the sound of children singing. Pre-schoolers, sixth graders, eighth graders most of them singing their hearts out about Jesus, the Prince of Peace bringing joy to the world … ‘as far as the curse is found…’ To wind things up, we ended by singing a host of holly, jolly other holiday songs as well.
I noticed as I looked around, that there were some students for whom the jolly, joy and peace seemed to be missing. I wondered what the Christmas season, or any season for that matter was like for them at school and in their homes.
After Chapel we had a couple of classes, lunch and then we were off to the roller skating rink. I had strict instructions when I left home about skating. “Don’t fall and break a hip!”
I have skated every year we’ve done this since the beginning of time, which is about when I started teaching. I wasn’t about to play the ‘old fart’ card this year, either. So I skated, round and round, and round. With about fifteen minutes left I thought, “No falls, maybe I should hang it up for the day. One more lap.”
As I was completing the lap, I approached four girls in a group to the left having some balance issues. There were two students on the right just standing by the wall. Two of the girls on the left went down. I looked to the right and my way was blocked but for a small sliver of an opening. Had I tried to negotiate it I might have made it unscathed or might have rolled over the growing pile of sixth graders on the floor in front of me. My choice was made for me as my feet went flying ahead and I landed on my behind. I’d like to think that I sacrificed myself for my students and that’s what led to my fall.
All in all it was a good day. And… if I were teaching a class at the end of the day I would tell about my sacrifice which led to my (skating) fall. Then, I tell a story about how the Fall led to a sacrifice. I would remind my students one more time that Christmas is all about Jesus coming to redeem us and all of creation from that Fall, bringing joy to our worlds, as far as the curse is found.
‘Super Sunday’ morning finally arrived. As usual, the fantastic Christmas show, to say the least, was stunning! The orchestra played beautifully! Myrtle Smoot coaxed every possible ounce of beautiful sound from her musicians.
“The Fantastic Fennelli Family,” a juggling act, amazed the audience with their “Christmas Special.” They tossed shepherd and Magi dolls around and landed them by the manger in exactly the right places. Angels flew from their expertly trained hands, as if they were really flying! They juggled wicked King Herod and the Roman soldiers right out the door. It brought the crowd to its feet! As usual, the animals did their jobs, well. This year Myrtle trained the cows to moo “Silent Night.”
Becky Burnbaum had an extraordinary performance. Her solo was outstanding, including the part about saving the baby seals. There wasn’t a dry eye in the church when she placed a stuffed seal among the animals surrounding the manger. The applause at the end of the program was deafening! The only thing that could possibly have made this year’s program better would have been an appearance by Gabriel himself!
* * * *
William had been among the heavenly host who announced the Good News of the first Christmas to a bunch of terrified shepherds. The only reason he attended this year’s party was Sylvia. He watched her go through the motions in the back row of the junior choir. He noticed she wasn’t impressed with the program. In spite of Myrtle Smoot, the jugglers, Becky Burnbaum and the animals, compared to a real angel celebration, this earthly flop was a lot like the manure piling up in the parking lot.
* * * *
In church that evening, a handful of people quietly worshiped the Savior in a sanctuary dimly lit by candles and white Christmas tree lights. At home, others basked in glow of another successful Christmas Pageant.
* * * *
William was at church, as usual, watching over Sylvia – a changed Sylvia. No one could really notice the change…. but it was there. William knew it. He was getting ready for a celestial Christmas celebration…. at just the right moment!
* * * *
Pastor Bill spoke. The candles glowed. The congregation sang carols. Sylvia wiped her sweaty hands on the seat cushion. She nervously waited to sing. Her song meant something, at least to her … now …
The pastor finally turned to her and invited her to sing. “At last!” she thought. Sylvia slid out of the pew, walked up to the front, careful not to trip over the microphone cord. She stared at her feet as the first words softly, waveringly slipped out. “What shall I give him, poor as I am…?”
William was getting excited. It was almost time.
“If I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb. If I were a wise man …” The people were actually listening. Sylvia stumbled a bit. “I would do my part …” As she sang, she bravely looked out over the crowd. “…What I can, I give him…” Sylvia looked up and saw Grampa Peterson sitting in the back of church, wiping something from his eye. “… give him my heart …”
* * * *
William knew this was it. The only sound heard in the church was a soft “Amen” from the old man sitting in the back. But William and a heavenly host danced, sang, and shouted “AMEN!” It was the beginning of an eternal celebration of new birth!
[Previously published in “Christian Home and School” – December 1994″]
Walk as Children of Light 