Push is quickly coming to shove, and my upcoming move approaches at an alarming rate, As I was packing up the contents of my desk at school, I started waxing nostalgic every item as I wrapped each piece. And I decided it was time for another blog entry. I had pictures I wanted to incorporate, but the computer was being disagreeable and I decided to let it go. I'll post the pictures on Facebook. Anywho...
A little wooden plaque given to me by my college chaplain, who became my mentor and colleague, but now I simply call her my dear friend. It says, "When God created man, She was only fooling." At the time I was no doubt undone by… well, I know exactly who it was but discretion demands my silence! In any event, Marty told me that someone had given it to her at some point, and someday, I would pass it along, as well. And I am sure I will. Someday.
A miniature “wall” made of Lego knock offs, with a bandage on the front. When I was at Mount Union, bell hooks came and spoke on campus. My friend and I were moved beyond belief. We were in awe of her intellect, inamored by her passionate presens, inspired by her prophetic prose. We made a promise to one another to devote more time and engergy, not to mention intellect, to those things that mattered the most to us. Dr. H, the original chaplain turned full time professor and advisor extraordinaire for all things environmental, overheard a bit of our coversation. He sat down with us, shaking his head with a look of concern in his very gentle eyes. “I worry about the two of you sometimes. You have such great vision, and wonderful plans and ideas. I am afraid that you will spend much of your lives slamming into brick walls. One of us, I don’t remember who, joked that we would just have to make sure to have a box of bandaids with us. I made this little reminder when I was serving a church in Danville IL. It was a part of a devotional I led with a group of clergy women. It is a wonderful symbol of a very formative time in my life… not to mention a great story to share with students! When I have students… And I will, again, have students.
An unbroken geode. Not very attractive. It came from a bin at some or other science store. No special significance beyond that which I have assigned it. I have given them as gifts as friends have celebrated their ordinations. It isn’t much to look at. It’s just a rock. But even though I can’t see it, I know that its beauty lies within. People are like that, too. Rough around the edges, difficult to take, downright aggravating and annoying. But hidden underneath, treasures unfold as we open up to the possibility it sometimes takes someone else to recognize in us. You have to use a hammer to open up the geode. People require a more gentle touch – even if that touch turns into a bit of an insistent shove sometimes. I often wonder whether my friends who also have unbroken geodes have chosen to break them open. Or, like me, are they opting to sit with the rough exterior, trusting in what they know lies inside.
A rock I painted for my grandpa when I was a little girl. On the back, Grandpa wrote “pet rock,” appropriate for the time frame of the mid to late seventies. One the front, he wrote my name. I can tell that he used one of his felt-tip pens, the ones he kept in one of two repurposed frozen juice containers which resided, respectively, on his bedside table and on the table next to his chair in the living room. Another treasure on that table, the crossword puzzle dictionary I gave him for Christmas one year. Grandpa was a crossword aficionado! He did at least two a day, every day, always in ink. Inside the crossword dictionary, he wrote down tidbits he tended to forget… such as the fact that the theme song for Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer is “Harlem Nocturne.” If I had such a list, I would include Gene Hackman as an actor I rarely remember. And the fact that there are five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes in a year, which I learned from the musical “Rent.”
A stone, mossy green and polished smooth upon which someone carved the word “peace.” It goes along with the figurine of two hands, cupped for holding, into which I have placed a blue marble. Because I grew up watching “Big Blue Marble” on PBS, just like Alice Walker’s daughter, Rebecca, who once told her mom that there was a world in her eye. Alice has scar tissue on her eye from an accident with a BB gun when she was a child. Indeed, it looked just like the earth as shown from outer space. “The world’s a big blue marble when you see it from up there.” “There is a World in your eye” was the first part of the title of my MA thesis. Which is on spirituality in the writings of Alice Walker. Also held in the hands on my desk, a string of prayer beads. I think there are 36 beads, one for every country at war when I made them. I don’t remember. I could have written it down in my hypothetical list. I can’t share a picture of the hands, becaue they are already packed. And I am not going to open up a box that has already been packed. Although, I admit, that is probably something I would do.
A stone, smallish, smooth, but not polished. Painted upon it, a purple spiral, or swirl. It was a favor from friends’ covenent ceremony. I don’t remember if that is what they called it, though. It’s not important. What is important is that they love one another deeply, and that they made a commitment to share their lives, each with the other, and now with a beautiful little girl. It was my privilege to officiate at their ceremony, and I think of them whenever that stone catches my eye. It occurs to me that I have a lot of rocks and stones on my desk. That probably isn’t the greatest idea in the world. I’ll leave it to the imagination concerning why.
A star made, I believe, of tiger’s eye, given to me by a parishioner. A dear woman, homebound much of the time due to debilitating pain. Our visits together were a gift… I always left feeling uplifted, held in positive regard. Not everyone has the capacity to make one feel that way. Especially when one is of the mindset that it should be the other way around. I don’t know. I think that there is a mutual quality to ministry that cannot be taught… it must be discovered, experienced, happened upon. Now I am thinking about a Robert Frost poem: “Choose something like a star to stay your mind on and be stayed.”
I think you might call this an “executive decision maker.” It was given to me in appreciation for my service on the Sexual Assault Hearing and Appeals Board several years ago. That was one of my “other duties as assigned” that I did not enjoy. It was heartbreaking, truth be told. Every decision we made was painstakingly deliberate. Which makes this an almost ironic choice for a token of appreciation. I do enjoy having it on my desk, though. I like the arbitrary nature, when so much seems so arbitrary, as much a matter of luck and chance as of skill, or will. As though as much is something of which I need to be reminded.
Two worry dolls, I think from Guatemala. I bought them in San Antonio, at a NACUC Conference – National Association of College and University Chaplains. Two probably aren’t really enough.
A picture of my mom and dad. I would love to know what he has just said, given the sly grin on his face and the subtle irritation registering on her face. Love her dress, and the shoes… Also love that you can see Grandma’s nativity on the mantle, and the praying hands on the table.
A picture of my favorite soon to be five year old, Ethan. Although I am pretty sure that he is only three in this particular picture. Which is entirely my fault. His mom has generously supplied me with more recent photos, I am just a little behind in my updating.
A picture of the pastoral staff at Rockefellar Chapel 1998-1999. I cannot tell you how many times in my first (and second) call, I looked to this picture for a reminder of three people who I knew had my back, and my heart, in hand. Three people who had shared so graciously with me, and I with them. Three people I continue to believe are “there” for me, no matter where time has taken us.
A picture of me and Dr. H, taken at Red Bird Mission in 1990. I have written about it before, many times. This picture has a lot to do with how I ended up where I ended up. And I’ll leave it at that for now.
A picture of my 12th grade English teacher. We are friends on Facebook (and, we actually did keep in touch through the years before the onslaught of social media) and this particular photo was her profile picture a while ago. There is something in the look… I can be feeling frustrated, down on myself and the world in general, and I glance at that picture, and I see that expression, that smile, that slightly raised eyebrow… And I try a little harder, push a little farther, look a little deeper. So, yes… a picture of my 12th grade English teacher, who I now call “Beth,” somewhat comfortably.
A box, given to me by one of my mom’s friends when I received my M.Div degree. This box contains notes that I have collected through the years from people who evidently look to me as I have looked to Marty, or Dr. H, or Sam, or Alison, or Beth. I open it up and pull one out when I need a boost. When it gets full, I transfer them to an annex location in my apartment. Everyone should have something like this. Everyone.
