My Heart Awakening

When morning gilds the skies

my heart awakening cries:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Alike at work and prayer,

to Jesus I repair:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

The night becomes as day

when from the heart we say:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

The powers of darkness fear

when this sweet chant they hear:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Let all the earth around

ring joyous with the sound:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

In heaven's eternal bliss

the loveliest strain is this:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Be this, while life is mine,

my canticle divine:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Be this th' eternal song

through all the ages long:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

I woke up early this morning and decided it was as good a time as any to start an early-morning walking routine. I thought it would be fun to see what I could see... I have just moved to Phoenix, so have been exploring what's around me. I have a walkway outside the gate of my back patio that leads to a golf course. I decided to explore this path this morning. All during my walk, this hymn kept resounding in my head. Let Jesus Christ be Praised..
.

Enough

My faith has found a resting place

Not in device nor creed.

I trust the ever-living one,
His wounds for me shall plead.

Refrain:
I need no other argument, I need no other plea.
It is enough that Jesus died and that He died for me.

Enough for me that Jesus saves;
This ends my fear and doubt.
A sinful soul I come to Him
And He will never cast me out.

My heart is leaning on the Word,
The living Word of God.
Salvation by my Savior’s Name,
Salvation through His blood.

My great Physician heals the sick,
The lost He came to save;
For me His precious blood He shed,
For me His life He gave.

So, I've made the move to Arizona. Clear across the country from everything I've known since my birth. Literally. Things that make a country-wide distance from family bearable: cell phones, Skype, planes, friendly people in Scottsdale, knowing there will come a time when there will be no more separation, only an Eternity of time together.

Photos: two different sunsets this week from my hotel room in Scottsdale.

In Every Change

Be still my soul. The Lord is on thy side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide.

In every change, He faithful will remain.

Lots of change going on in my life these days. In less than 5 days I will be making my way across the country to a new job in Scottsdale, Arizona. I must say I never ever thought of living that far away from New England. I never really thought about leaving New England until recently. I have loved living here, and was especially enjoying

it this summer, having the luxury of not working and thus the freedom to travel at will any and every day.

But now, I'm about to embark on a new adventure. The uneasiness I feel when I think of leaving my family so far behind is tempered by the comfort of the verse above. Be still my soul.

Photos: The view around Thunderbird Academy where I will be working; building where my classroom is (the right hand door).

I am a Promise

I am a promise

I am a possibility

I am a promise

With a capital "P"

I was sitting in my living room earlier this evening when a strange yellow light poured in through the window that usually frames wonderful sunsets. It was so odd looking that I went outside to see what was going on. The whole sky was . . . yellow! When I turned around to go back inside, I saw a huge rainbow arching over my condo building! Then, it started pouring rain. I ran inside and by the time I looked back out my window, it had cleared up and there was a beautiful sunset!

Weird.

Beautiful.

A promise, full of good possibilities for the future. I like that!

Nobody

I'm nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us--don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

Emily Dickinson's little poem about publishing has always made me smile. I didn't realize the full truth of the poem, though, until I spent a night in Camden, Maine, recently trying to sleep through the public declarations of a pond full of frogs!

ALL NIGHT LONG they were croaking their names to the admiring bog (in this case a lovely lily pond outside of my hotel room. Even with the windows closed, I heard them loud and clear. All night long! In the morning, I took my camera outside and captured all I could see. In the end, I was the one admiring =)

Strong Enough to Stand Alone

"You have given your idol a heart, but no head. An affectionate or accomplished idiot is not my ideal of a woman. I would have her strong eough to stand alone, and give, not ask, support. Brave enough to think and act as well as feel. Keen-eyed enough to see her own and others' faults, and wise enough to find a cure for them. I would have her humble, though self-reliant, gentle, though strong; man's companion, not his plaything; able and willing to face storms, as well as sunshines, and share life's burdens as they come." ~ from "The Lady and the Woman" by Louisa May Alcott

I spent another amazing day in the company of fascinating women at the Concord School of Philosophy. This time, we had three separate presentations--two before lunch, one after. Debra Ryals from Pensacola State College spoke first on "The Condition of Women: Literature of the 19th and 20th Centuries." She focused on six authors--including Alcott--to demonstrate who women viewed themselves in terms of employment. She also talked about the importance of understanding context before you can appreciate and understand the literature. One piece of context that she shared stirred up some discussion: The suicide rate for unmarried women in the mid to late 19th century was 40% because there were so few options for them. Most often, they'd jump off low bridges into shallow water, breaking their necks. Even Louis May once thought about going over a bridge but was "saved" by a passerby. Jobs for women then weren't great or plentiful. There was no outlet for too many. They'd get depressed at the seeming dead end. This was before Freud, before psychology, before there was any helplines... This was staggering to think about.

The second "conversation" began with a presentation by Cathlin Davis from California State University-Stanislaus who talked about "Louisa May Alcott's Advice to Young Women." She used four little-known short stories to demonstrate the message that Louisa shared over and over--primarily that one person is all it takes to make a difference...and that has a ripple effect One person changes one thing for one person and they change one thing for another and they change one thing, and so on and on.. Alcott, through her sometimes subtle and other times not so subtle stories shows that the sphere of women is greater than what's been told to them and that one person absolutely can change the world. She also encourages young women to reach out with kindness, do what's right, don't give in to peer pressure, be brave enough to think and act on your beliefs, and to step out of the box that others had created for them. She not only tells them to do this, she shows them how to do it with her likable, realistic role models. Louisa has advice for young men, too. She encourages them to respect women and even to help them, work with them as equals... My oh my!

Between conversations, I had a conversation of my own with Debra Ryals mother. That was delightful as she clearly took joy in hearing her daughter's presentation. She told me about the fun they've had reading and learning together. I enjoyed meeting her. During lunch, I had a conversation with Caroline Davis and a couple other participants. We somehow found our way to talking about Anne of Green Gables which is a great favorite with many young people, but isn't often studied in academic circles, but certainly in this context could easily compete...

The afternoon conversation was spurred on by a presentation by Lisa Stepanski from Emmanuel College on "The Friendship of Bronson Alcott and Mary Baker Eddy." Turns out Eddy sent an early copy of her Christian Science manifesto, Health and Science, to Bronson Alcott hoping that he'd read and publicize it--which he did. They corresponded back and forth briefly about it, and this information led to a discussion about mid-19th century religion and spirituality which I found most interesting, and which may well lead to some independent research of my own in the near future. If I get to it, I'll share it here!

In all, it was a stimulating 6 hours in a very warm School of Philosophy building (although much more comfortable than yesterday afternoon).

What Were We Born to Do?

I spent a fascinating afternoon at the Concord School of Philosophy on the grounds of Louisa May Alcott's Orchard House. The discussion, entitled "What Were We Born to Do? The New Women of the Transcendental Era" was part of the 2010 Summer Concersational Series entitled "In Heaven's Name, Give Her a Chance!" Defining the Sphere of Women in 19th Century America. As I said, fascinating.

The four presenters this afternoon were formidable scholars and authors. Phyllis Cole, from Penn State-Brandywine, spoke aboutMary Moody Emerson (aunt to Ralph Waldo Emerson). Megan Marshall, from Emerson College and the Radcliffe Institute at Harvard, spoke about Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, one of three sisters who were movers and shakers in their time. [Marshall wrote a book about these sisters--The Peabody Sisters: Three Women Who Ignited American Romanticism (2005)--which won the Francis Parkman Prize, awarded by the Society of American Historians; the Mark Lynton History Prize, awarded by the Anthony Lukas Prize Project jointly sponsored by the Columbia School of Journalism and Harvard's Nieman Foundation; the Massachusetts Book Award in nonfiction; and was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in biography and memoir.] Helen Deese, of Tennessee Tech University and the Massachusetts Historical Society, spoke about Caroline Healy Dall. [Deese is the author of Daughter of Boston: The Extraordinary Diary of aNineteenth-century Woman, Caroline Healey Dall, and she is the Caroline Healey Dall editor for the Massachusetts Historical Society.] Finally, John Matteson, John Jay College, spoke about Margaret Fuller and Louisa May Alcott. [Matteson received the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for his book Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father. He is currently working on a book tentatively titled The Lives of Margaret Fuller.]

To say it was a formidable group would be an understatement. We met in the actual School of Philosophy that Alcott built on his Orchard House property for the purpose of educating adults. Quoting from the welcome we received from Executive director Jan Turnquist, "Mr. Alcott's dream of an adult education facility--one of the first in the country--came to fruition in Orchard House on July 15, 1870, when The Concord Summer School of Philosophy and Literature welcomed adults from all walks of life, and women were embraced as full intellectual equals." Since we were in the original building, there was no a/c or fans (noise would have drowned out the speakers. It was sweltering, but most of us were able to get past the oppressive heat to enjoy the stories the four speakers had to share. I am about half-way through Matteson's book, but I now want to read the other books (of course)...

I'll have more to share tomorrow from the things I am learning, but I'll close here by asking the question these four challenged us with: What were you born to do? Matteson says that when you ask that question, you also have to ask "what are we born to show [others]?" And what are the risks involved? As I sat and listened to the stories of 5 key women who influenced the way I live my life now, I was asking myself what I was born to do? And to what extent have I accomplished that purpose? And what am I doing about achieving it?

Jan Tourquist's parting words were about "simmering." Louisa May Alcott didn't have a lot of time to do the work she felt she was born to do. She had other responsibilities. She talks about her stories simmering in her brain while she was simmering things on the stove. That's the nature of creativity and work for women. Men will do one or the other. But women are charged with doing both if they want to do the creativity. It is rare to have the luxury to do just the one. Certainly it was in the 19th century. I left determined to refine my life's purpose and to find a way to accomplish it even more...and better.

Still and Quiet

"I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience." ~ William Shakespeare

This time last weekend, I was on my way up to Rangeley, ME to spend the 4th of July holiday with my family. Since the girls started college, we don't often get together all 11 of us, so when we have the opportunity, we make the most of it. Usually when we're at the cabin, peace and quiet reigns. This time, with so much change going on with everyone (college for the oldest boy, medical school for the oldest girl, job change for me, potential job change for my brother-in-law, possible school change for the youngest boy), our time together was not as peaceful as it has been.

Still, the surroundings demanded that we let go of the stresses in our lives and pay attention to what God had in mind for us. When He uses the whole sky to get your attention, you have to listen, take note, let go, and let Him do His work in you.

Body and Soul in Balance

My blogging friend Inland Empire Girl had these questions on her blog. She got them from "The Whole Truth" column in a recent Whole Living, Body + Soul in Balance magazine. I thought the questions were interesting. If you try them, let me know.

If I could say one thing to myself ten years ago...I'd tell myself to "do it now" regarding renovations to my condo instead of doing them "when I can afford it" which turns out to be just before I sell it. I finally have it just about the way I've wanted it and will only have a month or two to enjoy it.

My favorite place in the world...in the US is "Second Wind," the family cabin in Rangeley, Maine. I've been going there for some 25 years and have always had a wonderful time, whether it's by myself, with family, friends, colleagues, or students. It's a beautiful, peace-filled place. Outside the US, it would have to be Aix-en-Provence, a lovely "walking town" in the south of France, home to impressionist Paul Cezanne. I had an awesome 10 days there in 2004, taking a writing class in the morning and wandering all over by foot in the afternoons. I need to go back.

The movie I watch when I want to laugh...is The Princess Bride, even though I know almost the whole thing by heart. It's funny, witty, and sweet all rolled into one.

No one knows I...(I can't think of anything no one knows that I actually want to share now...)

I feel healthy when I...sleep 7 hours at night, exercise every morning, and drink 8 glasses of water a day

If I could do anything else for living I'd...be a full-time writer

Exercise routine...I go to "Healthy Fit" every morning and walk two miles. I started at 44 minutes (a 22 minute mile). I'm working at decreasing the time it takes me to do the two miles.

Proudest moment in my career...there have been many as a teacher, all involving students doing what they thought they couldn't. As a principal, it was getting, and keeping, the school into the black after decades of it being in the red.

My dad always told me...to keep Jesus first.

My mom was right about...putting my life in God's hands.

The lesson I keep learning over and over...is that I don't need to do everything myself.

I wish I had more time for...reading and writing....and more money for travel

My great unfilled dream is...to be a published author of a book (as opposed to magazine/newspaper article).

Real contentment is...sitting outside reading--on the deck at Second Wind, on the patio at my parents', by the pool at my sisters', by the fire anywhere...or listening to music at these same places...or camping with my family...

One of my favorite quotations is...from Jeremiah 29:11 (The Message): "I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for."

I always feel saner when I...am in my classroom teaching...or talking with my parents or sisters--either on the phone or, better yet, in person.

Transcending the Day

Concord, MA is one of my favorite destinations. It is a beautiful town that "reflects and respects its past," a past that towers over that of other towns in the area, even though they, too, have a past worth bragging about. I love it for its architectural beauty, its natural beauty, its philosophical and literary beauty, its historical beauty. Each time I go there, I am inspired. Today, I woke up hungry and decided to make my way to Concord. Five hours later, I arrived back home entirely satiated.

My first stop was at the Concord Museum for an exhibit celebrating the 375th anniversary of Concord's founding.

Housed behind its walls, you can see one of the lanterns that hung as a signal (One if by land, two if by sea) from Paul Revere that let his compatriot know how the British were coming; an extensive collection of artifacts that once belonged to Henry David Thoreau, including the flute that both he and his father played; and the study of Ralph Waldo Emerson. The brochure describes Concord this way: "From the 'shot heard round the world' to the writers of the American literary renaissance, things have happened here, words have been spoken here and books have been written here which changed the face of a nation. Over time, Concord has become a symbol of liberty and intellectual freedom."

From there, I made my way to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, originally a woodsy area meant as a place for peaceful walks and talks (a Transcendental thing). Ralph Waldo Emerson described it as a place where the muses could be found and where whispers were to be heard in the breezes. He felt that it should be a place where people could go for contemplation and leisure. That part hasn't changed any. Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott (left), Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Sidney (who wrote "The Five Little Peppers and How they Grew"), Emerson and their families are all buried here on "Author's Ridge." Daniel Chester French, the great sculptor who created the Lincoln Memorial and the Minuteman statue, is also buried here. And I did, in fact, meet several people who were there listening to the whispers on the breezes =)

Then it was on to the Buttrick Mansion, a lovely old colonial home built on a bluff that overlooks the Concord River and the Old North Bridge. While I was there, two youngsters completed their requirements to be Junior Rangers and were applauded and introduced to the visiters who happened to be nearby. I'm not sure all they had to do to accomplish this, but it appeared to be a big deal, both to them and the ranger who signed the completion certificate.

Next up was Orchard House, home to the Alcott family for 20 years (they had moved 22 times in the previous 20 years!). I've been to this house many times before, but I always see and learn new things. That's one of its appeals for me. This time they had Anna's (Meg in Little Women) wedding dress on display. I soooo wanted to get a picture of it, but of course no pictures were allowed inside. It's quite beautiful...and exactly the way Louisa describes it in Little Women--a lovely grey silk. I'm always charmed as well as inspired to spend time in this house. Today it was especially meaningful to me, having recently read the delightful The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott and currently reading the 2008 Pulitzer Prize winning double biography Eden's Outcasts. In talking with the excellent docent, I learned that this summer's "Conversational Series" will feature a lecture by the author of this book. You can be sure that I signed up to be there to hear him! BTW, LMA's 1/2 moon desk where she wrote her famous book is situated between these two windows in her bedroom. That's Queen Anne's Lace dried, preserved, and hung in the panes--something I still want to try for myself.

As always, I had to pick up a few things from the gift shop. Today's treasure: a card with a 1845 LMA quote on it: "I had an early run in the woods before the dew was off the grass. The moss was like velvet, and as I ran under the arches of yellow and red leaves I sang for joy, my heart was so bright and the world so beautiful. I stopped at the end of the walk and saw the sunshine out over the wide "Virginia meadows." It seemed like going through a dark life or grave into heaven beyond. A very strange and solemn feeling came over me as I stood there, with no sound but the rustle of the pines, no one near me, and the sun so glorious, as for me alone. It seemed as if I felt God as I never did before, and I prayed in my heart that I might keep that happy sense of nearness all my life."

It was, indeed, a collection of revelations that transcended my expectations for the day. Coming on the heals of a lengthy job interview, this was the perfect antidote for the stress of trying to decide what to do next. As the day progressed, I felt more and more that I could, in the words of Thoreau, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined."

Claude and Camille, Celia, and Sarah

I've been on a reading frenzy since school got out. The most recent books have been about artists or writers, or both. I'm a huge fan of novelized biographies and have enjoyed a number of such books about artists, the most recent being Stephanie Cowell's book Claude and Camille about Claude Monet as a young man trying to break into the world of art and the great love of his life, Camille. What an amazing story! The kind where you fall into it and don't get out of it for days, the kind you don't want to end, the kind you dream about and get up at 5 o'clock in the morning because you can't stop thinking and dreaming about it. I've long been a fan of the Impressionists, and have countless prints of their work that even as I write this decorate the walls of my home. My favorite, though, is a painting my niece did of Camille (left), as it turns out, after Monet's now famous portrayal of his eventual wife. Once done with the book, I spent hours looking up the paintings described in it and found myself wishing I'd known this story when I saw many of the originals in Paris or even in Boston. To that end, I may just find myself standing in front of some of them tomorrow as it's Community Day (free admission!) at Boston's MFA.

Meanwhile, I dove back into life-stories of artists I've admired and read Sandpiper, the biography of Celia Thaxter, written by her granddaughter. What a loving and poignant portrait of one of New England's most beloved poets! You may remember that my sisters, mother, and I visited her garden last summer out on Appledore Island off the coast of Porstmouth, NH. I may just have to find my way back there this summer having now read her story. I had forgotten that she was an artist as well as a writer and that she actually made more money with her painting than her writing.

Following hard on the heels of Celia's story, I read Master Smart Woman, a Portrait of Sarah Orne Jewett, another New England writer from the same era. She was born in South Berwick, ME a town I can drive through on my way north to see my parents if I chose to avoid the Maine turnpike (which I often do). Another towering figure in the world of women writers, Jewett painted New England as she saw and loved it with words that are still true today. I suspect I'll be making a visit to her home in the weeks to come as well. All this reading about writers and artists makes me hunger for my own experience as an artist, although many (most) did not live lives of leisure. In some respects it's a wonder we have any books or paintings to enjoy. Passion for what you're doing must be paramount...

Watching God Work

One of my friends posted this on her Facebook status a few hours ago: "Four ways to handle a predicament: Don't be afraid. Stand still. Watch God work. Keep quiet. "Do not fear! Stand by and see the salvation of the Lord which He will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians (or whatever you are struggling with) whom you have seen today, you will never see them again forever. The Lord will fight for you while you keep silent." Exodus 14: 13, 14. (adapted fromSwindoll)" It has given me pause to think about life and the changes we go through, most of us on a daily basis.

Two months ago, I came to the edge of a cliff (metaphorically speaking) and, without much hesitation, jumped off*, whispering to God as I did so "Please don't let me crash." I then proceeded to let God do what He does best: take care of us. First thing He did was get me through the next several weeks unscathed. I did not crash. Second thing He did was bring people into my life who were not out to build themselves up, but who were more interested in seeing others fly. It was a revelation. Third thing He did was give me peace of mind and an out. An out that is even better than the alternative.

The truth is, God has a job to do, and it is all about taking care of us. The trouble is we usually don't stand still and let Him do His work. We think we need to get in there and do it ourselves. Too many times that only means we mess things up. It is too often my tendency to keep my fists all balled up with my frustrations crushed inside instead of opening them wide and letting the troubles fall at His feet. Having experienced His care over and over, it is a conundrum to me why I don''t always just put my hand in His and let Him take over from the get-go. It's that human independence, I guess. This time, I didn't try to do it myself. I just gave it all to Him, right from the edge of that cliff. I don't know yet how it all will turn out. So far, so good, though.

*The cliff was my job. Or should I say the departing from my job of 17 years, putting my condo of 15 years up for sale, and then waiting to see what would happen next.

Historical/Fictional Memoirs of Favorite Authors

I've been reading a lot of good books lately which usually means I'm writing less. Such has been the case the past several months. During the school year, it comes down to a choice between those two passions once the school work is done for the night. Books have been ruling so far this spring, with good reason.

Take the book I just finished, The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott by Kelly O'Connor McNees. I loved it! And not just because I love Louisa May Alcott (which I do). Even though Kelly writes about an author I've been reading since grade school when I devoured her books one after the other and then back again, it was obvious that she both knew and loved her, too. I felt as if I were seeing an old friend through the eyes of a new one.

The story is one that grabs your attention immediately if you're one who likes behind the scenes kind of stuff (which I do). It answers the question: was there a "Laurie" in Louisa's life. We don't know. Nor does Kelly. But she spins a wonderfully warm and wise story considering one possibility from the summer Louisa and her family spent in Walpole, NH.

Grounded in fact, Kelly's book takes us deep into the heart and mind of this most endearing and independent chronicler of 19th century family life. And while I didn't learn anything new about the actual facts (but only because I have read so much about her myself), I loved every minute of the imagined love affair between Louisa and the possible model for "Laurie." Having played Jo in a production of Little Women years ago, I know a little something about getting into her head, but this experience far surpassed anything I tried to do. Such a good read!!!

Which, actually, brings me back to writing. The books I've been reading lately, the good books, have all been about writers I love, have all been efforts to take us into the minds of these writers and see what inspired the works we've come to love. Most recently, I read Syrie James' The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte and The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen. Both gave fantastic insights into two other favorite authors of mine.

As with Kelly's book, Syrie bases as much as possible in fact and then poses possible answers to the questions readers have asked for many years. The concept appealed to me immediately. I devoured all three books. These two authors have not disappointed.

So Live, That...

Every year the two most important days of your life go by. One is your birth day. The other is your death day. The one you know, and celebrate. The other passes unbenownst to you or anyone else.

I attended a memorial service Sunday night for a friend I've known for some two dozen years. She was a major figure in the classical music world, a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra for 30 years, a highly respected violin teacher, and a much beloved mother, wife, and friend. She passed away in November after a seven-year battle with cancer. A life-long Christian Scientist, she had a profound relationship with God that eclipsed that of many a professed Christian.

The memorial service was held in Jordan Hall at the New England Conservatory of Music. Dozens of musicians from all the facets of her life presented a nearly three-hour long concert in tribute to their mentor, teacher, colleague, and friend. In between the musical pieces, friends, fellow musicians, and former teachers shared their memories of this amazing woman. As I sat there listening, I heard mention of a life lived with passion and joy. One speaker talked about her calling as a teacher, about the profound influence she had on his and others' lives, both musical and personal.

I can't say I was jealous of all that was being said, but I certainly was inspired. My friend lived her life in the moment, and for the moment. She knew that each moment mattered, and she made certain it mattered for all she spent time with. She knew, in the end, that God's love made all the difference in the world, and she made sure to let everyone else know that too. It was amazing, in that mostly secular setting, to hear person after person talk about God's love as it shone through their friend and teacher's life. The final speaker, my friend's husband, talked about her peace and contentment, right up to the end of her life. She died, he said, without regret.

Thursday, I shared William Cullen Bryant's "Thanatopsis" with the juniors. Bryant was an American poet, Massachusetts born and raised, who first made his mark on the literary world in the early 1800s at age 17 with the publication of this meditation on death. A fairly long poem, it addresses the natural cycles of life, the importance of living that life so that when death comes along there is no fear, no worry, only peace and contentment. I learned the last nine lines of this poem when I was a junior in high school. The words made an impact on me then, but I didn't realize what they really meant until later. And they've been haunting me since Sunday night. It was no coincidence that Bryant was in my lesson plans this week. In needed his reminder of the importance of living our life so well that when our time comes to leave this life, we can go peacefully, and with no regrets. Bryant put into words what my friend put into reality. Both challenged me to re-examine my own approach to life and living it to the fullest, and with confidence and joy:

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumberable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, an lies down to pleasant dreams.

When the juniors and I talked about this poem a few days ago, I paired it with the Mark Twain quote at the beginning of this article. We talked about the fact that we don't know the hour of our death and the necessity of living our lives so that our day of death is not an issue, our life is, and our relationship with God. It was a timely message for me that complimented the memorial experience on Sunday.

At the Cross

My father is a violinist. He's many other things--an educator (principal at GBA in the 70s!), a theologian, a carpenter, a gardener, a philosopher--but at heart he's a musician, and a pretty good one at that. When he was in high school, he had hopes of being a concert violinist, or at the very least a professional orchestral player. But then he went to college and God called him to the ministry--both pastoral and teaching. Growing up, I heard him play many times--all kinds of classical music. But my favorite memories of him playing are of when he'd play for church, always just a simple hymn. He wanted to reach out to everyone with his music and hymns, for him, did that. Hymns like "Face to Face with Christ my Saviour" and "Into the Woods my Master Went" and "O Sacred Head Now Wounded" were among his favorites. Hearing them played under his skillful hands made them my favorites as well, especially after I looked the words up in the hymnal and realized the impact of what he was playing.

Every year at this time, I am drawn to the music of the time. The hymns my father put into my mental iTouch always start to play in my mind and take hold of my heart, especially Paul Gerhardt's setting of the ancient Latin hymn "Oh Sacred Head Now Wounded":

O sacred Head, now wounded,

with grief and shame weighed down,


Now scornfully surrounded

with thorns, Thine only crown;


How pale Thou art with anguish,

with sore abuse and scorn!


How does that visage languish,

which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,

was all for sinners’ gain;


Mine, mine was the transgression,

but Thine the deadly pain.


Lo, here I fall, my Savior!

’Tis I deserve Thy place;


Look on me with Thy favor,

vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

This week, as those words swirled through my head, the images they created jammed up my heart and made me grateful anew for what my Saviour actually did for me. They also brought to mind another, related hymn, "At the Cross":

Alas, and did my Savior bleed,

And did my Sov'reign die?

Would He devote that sacred head

For such a worm as I?

Chorus:

At the cross, at the cross

Where I first saw the light,

And the burden of my heart rolled away

It was there by faith I received my sight,

And now I am happy all the day!

Was it for crimes that I had done

He groaned upon the tree?

Amazing pity, grace unknown,

And love beyond degree!

So, what, then, does it mean to me that Jesus became a human being and lived as a man for 33 years and then died for me? A man that got hungry, tired, thirsty? A man who had intense feelings? A man who knew temptation? Does all of that really affect my life today? What difference does it make? Well, for me, Jesus’ life means four things:

1. He provides atonement. Since Adam and Eve chose sin, with its penalty of separation from God, only Jesus, according to the preconceived plan, could pay the penalty and thus change the consequences of that sin. The man Jesus provided atonement--at-one-ment—and restored harmony between man and God.

2. I better understand God. To face Satan’s accusations about God and His character, to bridge the distance resulting from sin, to heal misunderstandings likely in that relation-ship, God chose to give the watching world, and me, a living example of what He was really like. Jesus went beyond telling to show me what His Father was like. How could I love or serve some impersonal, cosmic force? But now, I see God Himself through the life and person of His Son.

3. He better understands me. Because I am convinced that He has felt my pain, I will more easily turn to Him for encouragement or forgiveness, confident that He will care, He will sympathize, He will understand.

4. He provides a pattern, a role model. As a person subject to pressure, bound by time, plagued at times by fatigue, I carefully watch Jesus’ life for His responses. And I see unqualified love (John 15:12), unhurried purpose (John 12:27), constant dependence (John 5:19), and responsive obedience (John 14:31). What a contrast to my self-centeredness, independence and defensive-ness!

The words and music of Easter encourage me to look at Christ’s life on earth which, in turn, shows me that what God expects of me is not impossible. Someone else has gone before me and shown me the way. Because of His life, I know how to live my life. Because of His struggles, I know how to get through my struggles. Because of His earthly death, I have the promise of eternal life. And so do you.

A Prayer in Spring by Robert Frost

OH, give us pleasure in the flowers today;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

To which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends he will,

But which it only needs that we fulfill.