Start of a new day · 365 Project

 Start of a new day by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I'm going to kill two birds with one stone tonight and post a 365 Project picture about beginning of my day for my NaBloPoMo entry. I've found that one harder to keep up with than the daily photo project...but on the whole, I think I've done pretty well writing on most days so far.

Today's photos were taken on my way to work this morning. It had rained much of the night and clouds of fog were rolling around the mountain tops, which intrigued me, so I tried to capture it--yes, while driving. I was careful, though, don't worry. Of course it was much prettier in reality than I could capture through the windshield, but I like it all the same. I don't do it on purpose--it just happens coincidentally--but usually I find myself driving to work into the sunrise and driving home into the sunset. Given the stunning beauty of most sunrises and sunsets here in AZ, I consider the beginning and ending to my work days rather glorious!

Beginning Again * NaBloPoMo

One of my students gave his testimony at church today.  The theme for the morning was "Enjoy the Journey" and he talked about the beginning of a new journey he is taking with God--one that started when he got word from his surgeon that he will probably never enjoy an active life on his feet again.  He was injured twice in two successive basketball games just before Christmas and had surgery days after.  He had torn both his ACL and his meniscus; only the ACL could be repaired.

He's been active all his life, so you can imagine his disappointment when the doctor told him he'll most likely never be able to play sports again, or possibly even run with any kind of comfort again.  He admitted his disappointment and frustration and how he had cried out to God "Why?"  God's answer to him was to help him realize that even though he couldn't run, he could walk.  He could slow down enough to walk with others and share his love for Jesus and encourage them on their own spiritual journey through life.

This boy is one of my workers and we talk often throughout each day as he's going through the tasks I have for him.  He has been an inspiration to me several times, including today, as he works his way through what could be a devastating injury to him.  I'm sure he has his moments of despair, but he seems to be getting a handle on it, through his confidence in God's plan for him.  This new year, though, has definitely been a case of beginning again...

Making a List . NaBloPoMo

I didn't post yesterday.  And I feel guilty about it!  I had high hopes for posting every day for at least a month, but it's not been a month yet and I've already blown it.  Well, I'll do two one of these days to make up for it, right?  Right!

Today's thought about Beginnings is that I am beginning to make a list of the 15 books that have made the most impact on my life.  A former student, now pastor and published author, put the challenge out on his blog this afternoon and I immediately knew I would have to do it.  I love making lists.  I love reading.  I love reading books that make a difference.  So...what's not to love about this challenge?!  Only trouble is that this kind of thing takes time.  Sifting time.  Sifting through the many books I've read in my life that have made an impact.  So today, for now, I'm beginning the list:

1.  I Love the Word Impossible by Ann Kiemel.  I read this book in my early years of teaching after having heard Ann speak at a  Festival of Faith weekend.  There is nothing complicated about what she shares.  Just an open and loving exploration of the God who loves us beyond all measure.  Simple, yet oh so profound.
2.  Christy by Catherine Marshall.  This book and Robert Specht's Tisha are two true stories of young women at the beginning of their teaching careers, facing incredible challenges--Catherine in the Appalachians and Tisha in Alaska.  Gave me inspiration for my first job in the nowhere land of Michigan.  I could relate to much of what they experienced and wanted to make a difference to my kids the way these two did to theirs.
3.  Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom.  I read this book in one sitting and cried throughout the entire thing.  Made me want to cherish every moment of my life...and reminded me of the power of my influence as a teacher.
4.  36 Children by Herbert Kohl.  The true story of Kohl's heart-wrenching experience teaching in an inner-city school.  Inspired me even before I had taught a single day.  Helped me understand the inner-city kids in my first couple of teaching jobs.
5.  The Message Bible.  This Bible made the Word seem fresh and new to me as an adult the way the Living Bible did for me when I was a young teenager.  It made me want to sit down and read it through, beginning to end.
6.  Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis.  A powerful treatment on what it means to be a Christian.  My favorite chapter is "The Shocking Alternative" which gives an incredible discussion on free will and how logical Christianity is.  It just makes sense when you read Lewis!

That's it for now.  I will add to this list...perhaps over the weekend.  I'd be interested to know from any of you what books made the biggest impact on your lives.

End of the Beginning . NaBloPoMo

I probably ought to save this post for the end of the month when it will be the end of posts about beginnings, but I don't want to forget about it, so it comes at the beginning of beginnings instead of a the end =)  Coincidentally (or perhaps not?) a friend of mine posted this song on their Facebook page this morning and I've been thinking about it ever since.  The lyrics are powerful, and compliment what I posted yesterday.  This version, with David Phelps singing, has subtitles so you can really consider the words as well as the music.

End of the Beginning

Interestingly enough, I once overheard a conversation in an airport waiting area that was very similar to the one recorded in this song.  It took place in Boston's Logan Airport between two college-aged guys.  One was telling the other about this "great book" he'd been reading:  the Bible.  "It has everything you want in a good story," he said:  murder, mayhem, mystery, love, lust...you know, all the good stuff!"  The other guy didn't know how to respond to this.  He kept saying "The Bible?"  And the first guy would say "I know!  I couldn't believe it either!"  Truth is, of course, that all that stuff is in the Bible, but there is so much more.  So. Much. More.  And it is the more--the end of the beginning--that David Phelps sings about...and that makes all the difference in the world.

At Christmas He Came . NaBloPoMo

Thinking and writing about "Beginnings" for an entire month is going to be a challenge.  And yet, I have found myself thinking about beginnings quite a bit in the past few days.  This morning, I went to my file cabinet to see if there was anything there to share.  I found several things which I will revise to share here as the days pass.  Today's offering is a Christmas poem that I wrote several years ago (1998). I happened to be taking a refresher course in French at the time, which accounts for all the French phrases.  Even though Christmas has passed, what better cause for beginnings than the plan of salvation revealed in Christ's birth?


[The photo at left is the stained glass window in the front of my former church in MA.  I took this when I visited there during the break.]

AT CHRISTMAS HE CAME; THIS CHRISTMAS HE MUST COME AGAIN

            

"Je dois aller."

People are always having to go away from me,

from each other,

from home, from work, from school, from play.

People are always having to go away from me (and I from them)

to other people and places.

"Je dois aller:  I must go [the imperative].

I have other things claiming my life, my time.

You're not all there is to my life.

Important, yes.  But not all.

Je dois aller."

There's nothing I can do to keep them from going;

They must.

And if I want them still in my life,

I, too, must—must accept, must acquiesce, must not pout or complain.

Ils doivent aller.  Et je dois accepter.

"Je dois venir encore."  There's another who must, too. 

"I must come again" He says.

There's a difference, though.

Those who must go, can go as they need.

But He who must come, must have an invitation; He cannot come just because He must.

Not only must He come, but He must wait.

Wait for you, for me—for us—to be ready. 

To be willing.  To be open. 

And to invite Him to come.

"Je dois venir. 

I need to come.  It is necessary.

There is nothing else claiming My life, My time.

You're all there is to My life.

You're important, yes.  And everything.

But I can't come without an invitation. 

I can ask, but I can't just come.

And yet, I must.  Je dois venir."

Christmas:  celebrating the coming of Christ—the first time.

But should it not be something more?

Must we not also anticipate His Second Coming?

Must we not prepare for—and invite—Him to come back?

The goings in our life, we have no control over.

But the comings, those we do.

"Je dois venir encore," He says.

This Christmas, let it be "Tu dois venir--You must come."

All Beginnings are Hard . NaBloPoMo

You’ve heard it before, some of you:

"All beginnings are hard.

"I can remember hearing my mother murmur those words while I lay in bed with fever. “children are often sick, darling. That’s the way it is with children. All beginnings are hard. You’ll be all right soon.”

"I remember bursting into tears one evening because a passage of Bible commentary had proved too difficult for me to understand. I was about nine years old at the time. “You want to understand everything immediately?” my father said. “Just like that? You only began to study this commentary last week. All beginnings are hard. You have to work at the job of studying. Go over it again and again.”

"The man who later guided me in my studies would welcome me warmly into his apartment and, when we sat at his desk, say to me in his gentle voice, “Be patient, David. The midrash says, ‘All beginnings are hard.’ You cannot swallow all the world at one time.”

"I say it to myself today when I stand before a new class at the beginning of a school year or am about to start a new book or research paper: All beginnings are hard. Teaching the way I do is particularly hard, for I touch the raw nerves of faith, the beginnings of things. Often students are shaken. I say to them what was said to me: “Be patient. You are learning a new way of understanding the Bible. All beginnings are hard.” And sometimes I add what I have learned on my own: 'Especially a beginning that you make by yourself. That’s the hardest beginning of all.'"

Those are the opening few paragraphs from Chaim Potok’s book In the Beginning. I have read those words for myself at the beginning of every single school year for the past thirty-three years and have almost as often shared them with my students. I read them—and sometimes share them—because they acknowledge the feelings that most of us go through at the beginning of something important, and because they give me some sort of encouragement by telling me that I’m not alone, and that we survive our beginnings.

Beginnings. They are always difficult. Even for those of us who are now adults and have been “doing” beginnings for a long time. No matter how experienced we are in them. No matter how successful our track record is with them. No matter how dedicated and reliable and responsible and organized we are, there is always the potential of failure when we make a new beginning. And if we’re not careful, fear and pessimism and negativity can take over and destroy what could be a wonderful and rewarding experience.

Beginnings. A brand new start. A chance to wipe away the past and build a better future. Beginnings. An opportunity to take the best of what we were and add it to the best of what we are in order to become the best of what we can be. Beginnings. Even before I begin classes each year, I feel a little nervous. I’ve been through so much already just to get to that day. This year, for example, we had a LOT of changes in staff over the summer, including principal, vice principal and our entire way of operating. We had a lot of new students, which was exciting, but it would also mean a lot more work. We had a lot of physical changes to the campus as well. I was exhausted before we even began. Maybe even a little bit scared because we were stepping off the usual plan for doing things and trying something entirely different. I know for our students, there were many changes and even those who had been coming to school here for three years found themselves out of their comfort zone. For some it was tempting to give up, curl up, close up, shut up…maybe even fold up. Believe me. I know. I saw it in their eyes, read it in their journals. It was tough.

But there is one thing I know. Each beginning, above all others, has the potential to be the start of something great. I saw it at the beginning of this school year. And I feel it again at the beginning of this new year. We were at the beginning of something that can change the lives of each of us here on earth. I can’t pretend to know just where each of you is in your thinking about this year, but I know Someone who does know. Someone who knows more about difficult beginnings than any single one of us—or all us put together. Someone who can get us through this beginning. Someone who knows the truth of of Potok’s opening line: All beginnings are hard. Listen:

"When God began creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was a shapeless, chaotic mass. It took Him awhile to get that mass organized and beautified. But He did it. And He was pleased.

"Then He did something even harder. He made human beings and set them loose on the earth. I can imagine nothing harder than that, because He knew exactly what we were going to do. He knew that we were going to destroy His world, His animals, His people—His Son. He knew, yet He went ahead and made us anyway." 

In the beginning, God—

Have you ever wondered why? I have. Countless times. Especially now that I am older. That beginning—creating this world—sometimes seems so senseless to me. Why would God do something He knew beforehand was destined for failure? It doesn’t seem to me that this God—my God—had been in control of that decision. When I was younger and thought about this, I didn’t find much comfort—and I worried, some, for my own future—until I discovered a text I’ve come to cherish in Jeremiah 29:11. It says there, in God’s voice, “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” And reading that, I realized that my future was in safe hands—as long as I put it there in the beginning and let God work out His plan for me.

All beginnings are hard. But the beauty of this beginning is that God not only made us, He stayed on with us. He did not set the world in motion, then step back and watch it self-destruct. And He did not put Edgewood and GBA together just to watch us fall apart. He was, and is, right there—right here—with us. Through all that we do—our hurts and our joys. Our beginnings, middles, and endings. He has a plan for us. For each of us. I truly believe that.

There’s a wonderful passage in M.L. Haskins’ book, The Desert, that I love. It goes like this: "And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’ And he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.’”

I’d like to recommend this morning that you reach out and put your hand in God’s. We’re on the verge of a beginning that may well be one of our hardest, if not the hardest. There are going to be times when we’ll feel lonely and frightened, disillusioned and helpless. But God—your God—who was there at every other beginning—will be there with us, with each of us, ready to help us up and out—and on. Let Him do what He knows best. Let Him be close to you at this beginning. Trust Him. He knows. Because In the beginning . . . God . . .