An island greeting...

No man is an island, entire of itself.

Each man is part of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod of earth fall off into the sea,

Europe is the less, as much as if

A promontory were, as much as if

A Manor of thy friends or thine own were.

Every man’s death diminishes me

Because I am involved in mankind;

Therefore, never send to know

For whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

from Meditation XVII by John Donne (1571-1631)

No one is completely alone. We are all integral to someone else. Each of us is a sister, daughter, wife, mother, niece, aunt, brother, son, husband, father, nephew, uncle, grandchild, and/or friend to someone. No one comes into the world with no connections. Because of that, we, each of us, touch other’s lives in some way. We each have the grand opportunity, the weight of glory (as CS Lewis calls it), to help each person we come into contact with toward light or darkness. How that light or darkness will play out in someone’s life, we may never know, but we all have that glorious burden to bear.

John Donne reminds us about this divine calling in his Meditation XVII. A clump of dirt falling into the ocean makes the nation that much smaller. A grain of obsidian sand pulled from the beach of Hawaii--or that pristine white sand granule from Florida washing into the Gulf--causes all of America to shrink. Donne says that even a bit of earth that falls into the rolling blue lessens the country from which it falls.

That grain of sand, that person we lose thanks to whatever tide goes rolling out, is part of my continent. I am diminished. I am affected because "I am involved in mankind." Therefore I must look to those people in my life whom I know I have the opportunity to impact. Am I doing enough to keep erosion from occurring? Am I sharing light or darkness? Am I listening and reacting to the tolling of the bells that ring? I hope so.

Several iron bells rang out that touched me personally this week. I am sure that any number of bells tolled throughout the nation and world, and we were all affected by the resounding of those iron bells in our lives. Our diminished selves may be tempted to retreat; I need to remember that it is at these times, especially, that I need to look to friends and family whose love can help bring light instead of darkness. Their warm greetings help soothe the sadness that sudden loss brings.

Hawaii's greeting of "Aloha" which means hello and goodbye is perhaps that perfect phrase at times like this, when we must say goodbye to those whose bell has rung while at the same time welcoming our friends and family into holiday homes. Blessings and love to all those of us who have heard the bells ring this week; also, welcome and good cheer to those who will be ringing doorbells for Christmas. So, "Aloha" dear hearts.




RIP MM and BM 12/16/2013

Missouri Read-In Day (March 8th)

       It doesn't shock anyone who knows me that I'm an English teacher because they know I love books and reading.  I read through the entire fiction section in the library in high school.  I mean it; I started at "A" and read until I got to "Z."  And then I had to start over to catch up on the new books for the authors whose last names I'd already read.
       I have had any number of libraries of my own, too.  I don't want to start calculating how much money I've spent on books over the years.  I have stacks of books in my house I haven't even gotten to yet.  I have boxes of books still in my parents' attic (don't tell them; I don't have room in my house).  I have books everywhere: there isn't a room in my place that doesn't have books in it.
       Where did it start, though, this love of reading?  The love of the turn of a phrase?  The love of falling into a world of someone's creation and experiencing the joys and sorrows and celebrations and tragedies of those characters?  If I look back far enough, it was because of the books I loved as a child. One of my first favorite books was Little Cottontail by Carl Memling; a Little Golden Book about a baby bunny who wanted to grow up too fast.  "Not yet, Little Cottontail," the mother crooned...and those words still come to me when I am telling a student to be patient.  My favorite picture of me is a Christmas morning picture where I have unwrapped (you guessed it!) a book: T'was the Night Before Christmas by Clement C Moore.
       I remember being so excited in elementary school when, because I was already reading chapter books stage when the others in my class were still learning how to read, I was allowed to check out books from the "older kids' section" in the library.  I devoured the Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, and then The Black Stallion book series by Walter Farley (I was into horses then).  I moved on from horses to dogs and other animal stories.  The Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder I read over and over again until I had to tape the covers.  Then I moved to fantasy.  I still remember fondly a book about a headstrong black-haired fairy named Bluebell.  I wish I remembered the name of that book; I don't, but that character has stayed with me for well over 30 years.  I still wish I had long dark hair like the main character did.
       When my sister and I were in the upper elementary, my dad read The Hobbit by JRR Tolkein to us as a bedtime story.  He even did the voices!  My, what a world was opened to me then!  I couldn't wait until I could read the whole series on my own.  It's still one of my favorite series to read.  I get something new each time.  Then, when I was a pre-teen, Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis overtook my imagination. I still own most of the first set my sister bought me for a Christmas present; I've had to replace a couple of the books in the series because students have "borrowed" them forever.
       I've already mentioned how I read all the fiction books in the school library, but I also made a nuisance of myself at the public library because during the summer (before I was old enough to get a job other than babysitting) I'd go through their shelves and borrow the maximum number of books I could--six--and then be back the next day to turn those in and check out new ones.  I was reading sweet romances --none of those Harlequin novels for me (yet)--about nurses who fell in love with their patients or the doctors they worked for.
       I then got into high school and college and met literary geniuses like Emerson and Wordsworth and Shakespeare and fell in love all over again with reading.  I couldn't get enough of those words "that take us Lands away" ("There is no frigate like a book" by Emily Dickinson) as I read the stores, poems, plays, and more that my own English teachers introduced to me.  It is little wonder that I love reading and sharing with my own students the literature that I hold dear.
       Each book (whether it be the actual book or on some e-reading device) is a ticket into a world away from our own.  I look at those books as portals that will wing me away to a ball in Regency England or to a futuristic world on Venus or back to ancient Rome or to linger on a hillside covered with golden daffodils.
       So, on this Missouri Read-In Day I encourage everyone to grab a book or magazine or anything that strikes your fancy: begin reading and enjoy the journey!

Running on Empty?

Every year during the Lenten time I always feel a deeper sense of the wonder and grace of God's gift of salvation through His Son's death on the cross. I read something by CS Lewis in his Lenten readings that made me want to think even deeper.  He was talking (in an excerpt from Mere Christianity) about how so many people try to find happiness in anything other than God.

He says: "the reason it can never succeed is this.  God made us: invented us as man invents on engine.  A car is made to run on gasoline, and it would not run properly on anything else.  Now God designed the human machine to run on Himself.  He Himself is the fuel our spirits were designed to burn, or the food our spirits were designed to feed on.  There is no other. That is why it is just no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about religion.  God cannot give us happiness and peace apart from Himself because it is not there.  There is no such thing," pg 54.

I have to be honest; I've not been fueling up as regularly as I ought.  I'm afraid that sometimes I've even let myself run on "E." And then I have to ask myself why I'm willingly running on fumes when I could fill up on God?  Why do I let myself get to this state--hoping and hoping that my tank doesn't run dry before my next "experience" at the pump?  I need to remember Lewis's quote and fill up daily.  Life with God is soul-fulfilling; it's not like a diet meal, either.  It's meat and potatoes in a Slim Fast world.

Before my spiritual tank runs low, I need to take daily Sustenance.  If He is the food my spirit is to feed on, I need to dine at that sumptuous table instead of nibble on the celery and carrot equivalent.  The soul doesn't need to diet (even if I do), and God provides a feast daily.  His mercies are new every morning. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ--not death, not life, not angels, not demons, not height, not depth.  These sayings are true and good; why do I deny myself this by waiting so long that I begin to run on empty?  I think it's because I try to feed myself; even when I know that my spirit runs on Him, I try to find ways to be happy on my own.

That's why this Lent and Easter I again sit at His table and know how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ.  I need to remember that I can never get too much at His table--and that it is with Christ Himself I am fulfilled.  Instead of filling myself with things that cannot satisfy, I take the Bread and sip the Wine that is His sacrifice.

I'm reminded of a story I heard once about the difference between heaven and hell.  A man went to the Pearly Gates and was given a choice.  He was shown to two rooms.  In each room there was a table filled with good drinks, sumptuous foods, and all manner of wonderful things.  In each room there were people gathered round the tables.  In each person's hand was the utensil that would allow him/her to eat of the food of the table.  The forks, however, were three feet long.  In one room, there was wailing, gnashing of teeth and starvation.  In the other room the people were happy, healthy, and fulfilled.  The difference?  In the first room each person was starving, despite the groaning table, simply because each person tried to feed him or herself.  In the second room, each person fed the person across from him or her, and each was filled.

I need to remember these things: well before I am running on empty and starving for fuel, I need to fill up on Christ. But, not only that... I need to share that Love of Christ with everyone around me so that they, too, are filled--and I need to let them be Christ's Ambassadors to me as well.