If Walls Could Talk

Posted on August 21, 2013 by Margaret

A while ago Nelson and I were running errands and decided to take the back roads home instead of the highway (for 28 miles). He said, “There’s lots of interesting stuff off the beaten trail that nobody gets to see.”

Driving along winding roads past country fields, colorful farm equipment, and family vegetable stands, we rounded a bend and came to something significant: an old-fashioned, one-room school- house. Its foundation was of rocks, the rest of it built with small red bricks.

Nelson pulled over so we could take a closer look. A plaque verified its name (Spring Creek School), age (1886), district (No. 3), and current owner (Three Oaks Township Parks and Recreation).

We tried to imagine what students were like as they attended this school 127 years ago, wondering how many studied at once. Though the door was locked, through a window we saw a giant pot-bellied stove and later learned it was original to the school, along with the thick plank flooring and wood-paneled walls.

Immediately I thought of the “Little House on the Prairie” books, much-loved and often- read in our home. Laura Ingalls was a school girl in the 1880’s too, so the children who attended Spring Creek School probably lived lives very similar to hers. Later we learned the “modern” brick school had replaced a cherry-wood, one-room log school built in 1844 on that spot.

Far more important than how the little red schoolhouse came into being, though, or even how well it’s held up through the decades, were the connections made between those who passed through its door. Childhood friendships, student-teacher relationships, mentoring situations, and student-to-student tutoring all probably mattered longer than just school hours. When people left for the day, for the year, or even permanently, what remained?

We learn in Scripture that relationships are really all that matter: (1) God, Jesus, and the Spirit to each other; (2) members of that Trinity to us; and (3) people to people. How we relate is critical (both for now and for eternity) and the Lord steadily supplies opportunities for us to practice making wise choices on both counts. If and when we fail, he doesn’t give up on us but soon provides another go-round at exactly what we messed up the first time.

Children and adults alike can be kind to each other or act badly, choosing to either inspire or discourage others. But in wondering about the children and teachers who used the little Spring Creek School, I like to think that solid friendships were made during the 1880’s and beyond, positive influences that lasted through future generations, all the way till today.

Wanting to find out, Nelson walked to a nearby farm to ask a few questions. Approaching the stand of fresh strawberries out in front, he asked the woman there if she knew anything about the school. “Oh yes,” she said, handing him a pint of berries. “My grandfather was a student there, and our farm here was his farm.”

And she still lives there, just across the road from Spring Creek School.

“Live in harmony with one another…. Never be wise in your own sight.” (Romans 12:16)

It’s our choice.

Posted on August 20, 2013 by Margaret

Although I’m home after a 12 day trip to England, pieces of my mind and heart are still over there. Often during the day I’ll check the clock and add 5 hours to mentally get back into their routine for a few minutes. Also, looking at weather.com for what’s happening outside their windows is another way I can move closer while still being far away.

Any time I’m able to spend concentrated time with my grandchildren, I find myself newly appreciating the great variety among the 9 of them and see again the extent of God’s marvelous creativity. Though all humans have much in common, the diversity is astounding.

The other day in England Katy and I were having a lunchtime chat with Nicholas, Thomas and Evelyn when the subject of musical instruments came up. As we talked about Katy’s musical background and talents, Evelyn piped up, “I’m going to play a trumpet!” nodding her head for emphasis as if to say, “It’s a sure thing!”

Thomas quickly chimed in, “I’m going to play the tambourine!” and Nicholas calmly said, “I want to play a flute.”

Later, Katy and I talked about how the personalities God had implanted in these three children showed through in their instrument choices. Evelyn is vivacious, strong-willed, and spirited, a perfect match for the trumpet. Thomas is deliberate, friendly, and emotional, a good pairing with a tambourine. And Nicholas is detailed and soft-spoken with a quirky sense of humor, joining nicely with the flute.

Their choices of instruments that day were, in a way, outward expressions of their inner makeup. But isn’t that true for all of us? The choices we make reveal who we are.

The same holds true for God. If we read Scripture with the intent of understanding him better, all we have to do is study his choices. For example, he chooses to extend grace, though he lets us suffer consequences for what we do. He also chooses to discipline us when we rebel against him but to love us no matter what. But best of all, he chooses to save us from judgment rather than to let us experience what we deserve.

In looking at those choices and hundreds more in the Bible, we get a glimpse of who God really is, deep down. By that, we come to know him better (though I don’t believe we’ll ever know him completely) and love him more.

Interestingly, God wants to study the choices we make, too, and not just which musical instruments we choose to play. He’s far more interested in our spiritual choices, and in particular, whether or not we’ll choose him. And maybe part of deciding one way or another about what to do is to be sure we learn as much as possible about the One hoping we will choose him.

After all, he’s already chosen us.

“Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.” (Joshua 24:15)

Flying Home

Posted on August 19, 2013 by Margaret

Every vacation ends eventually, and today was lift-off day for me. When I got to the breakfast table, 3 sad small fry greeted me. “Why are you going back to America today, MeeMee?”

It was a distressing question, because no reason was good enough for them. So I just said, “I’ll be coming back to see you later!”

“By dinner?” Thomas said.

“Not that soon…”

Nicholas, Evelyn, and Thomas are too young to grasp the difficulty of frequent comings and goings across so many time zones, and I felt like I was abandoning them. My only consolation was that out of sight is often out of mind for young children. Maybe they won’t miss me as much as I’ll miss them.

Airport goodbyes were teary, and little Evelyn kissed me on the lips multiple times: “One for Auntie Weez, one for Auntie Britt, for Den-Den (Nelson), Uncle Lars, Uncle Batis (Klaus), Auntie Brooke,” and on and on it went until my face was dripping wet with her sweet kisses.

Nicholas simply said, “I don’t want you to go, MeeMee.”

But as I rolled my suitcases toward the terminal in a British drizzle, I looked back and saw them pull away, crestfallen faces pressed against the car windows, little hands waving. Ouch to my heart.

Once the plane had been boarded and had made its way to the end of a runway with engines rumbling, the captain came on the intercom to say we’d be delayed by 15 minutes. He couldn’t find the flight plan and had to make a new one. Though this was unsettling, at least we weren’t turning back toward the gate.

These days airplanes have TV screens up and down the aisles on which a video is played to make plane-orientation fun. Since most of our flight will be above an ocean, I paid careful attention to the demonstration on life jackets. “Don’t inflate until you’re already outside,” it said, showing a man in a business suit in a flat life vest, standing at the airplane door. He’s smiling broadly as he’s about to jump into the ocean. I pictured myself floating in the icy water watching our wounded plane go under, much like the Titanic did in the movie.

Traveling is stressful; traveling alone is more so. I had to remind myself that even if our plane went down, my “bottom line” was secure. When it was all over, I knew I’d end up with Jesus.

This morning at breakfast, Evelyn asked a funny question: “Do you think your airplane is going to fall out of the sky?”

I laughed and showed her, with my hand, how my plane would take off, cruise, and then land gently on a runway. Today my flight did exactly that, but even if it hadn’t, my ending would have been a good one.