April 24, 2012
This past Sunday, our Youth led the worship service, reflecting on the heroes God has given to us. One of the students who spoke was Aubrey Nelson, a Senior at AC Reynolds High School in Asheville, NC. Aubrey is a gifted musician who sings like a bird and plays her flute like an angel. Her comments Sunday spoke to my own conviction that God often uses music to draw us to the throne of Grace. I asked Aubrey if she would allow me to publish her reflection here and she has graciously agreed.
Aubrey's Hero by Aubrey Nelson 2012
It is so much easier to be by ourselves.
Now, you're probably thinking I got that backwards. If you're anything like me, you're much more comfortable when someone is physically with you...talking to you, laughing at your jokes, shielding you from that dreaded image of being alone that has become somewhat of a stigma in our fast-paced, loud, busy culture. In fact, if the feeling I just described sounds at all familiar to you, you're part of the 70% of American society who labels themselves as extroverts...people who would rather be around people. But as much time as many of us spend surrounded by the talking, laughing, storytelling, and general comforting presence of others, we are truly alone...emotionally and spiritually alone. Sure, we've got all kinds of people all around us - friends, teachers, parents, coworkers, pastors, conductors, coaches - but are we listening to them? Are we soaking up what they have to say and allowing their words to change us? Or are we letting their wisdom, their experience, their uniqueness as people go right over our heads, convinced that we have all the answers?
Ernest Hemingway, the great 20th century American author, once said, "as you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary." While graduating seniors such as myself are facing many apparent, obvious decisions this year - what college we'll attend, what we'll major in, what career we want to pursue - I have no doubt that everybody in this room, from elementary school students preparing to step into the frighteningly unfamiliar world of middle school, to recent college graduates who just don't know what to do with or make of their lives, to senior adults facing the painful aloneness of losing their loved ones, is encountering some sort of choice, dilemma, or question they just cannot answer. And while I'm far from discounting the great and important power of independence, confidence, and belief in oneself, we often rely on ourselves for answers to such a great extent that we take out more than we can give back. So then, if we Americans are so constantly surrounded by people, why don't we try to learn from them instead of using them as a security blanket? And instead of criticizing them, why don't we teach them? We all need someone - or something - to remind us that we don't know everything and that we do, in fact, need each other.
Though we typically assume heroic figures to be people, I think that intangible activities and experiences often take on the most powerful heroic positions in our lives. As most of you know, I'm an avid musician, and I feel that music has been my own personal "hero"...it's shown me the rewarding nature of hard work, it's taught me how to lose with dignity and win with grace, and it's demonstrated for me the satisfaction and happiness that comes from creative expression. These are all lessons I could not have spontaneously learned on my own. A "heroic activity", so to speak, doesn't have to be one you do on a regular basis...even a one-time experience, such as hearing an inspiring concert or seeing an emotionally wounded person smile for the first time in months, can have a drastic, wonderful influence on the way we think and feel.
Genesis 1:27 tells us that each person is created in the image of God. I think that this is one of the most commonly (and regrettably) overlooked aspects of our Christian faith...that EACH person, rich or poor, dark or light-skinned, man or woman, left or right-brain dominant, high or low GPA or SAT score, is a little piece of God, a snippet of his glory and a small-scale manifestation of his great intentions for the world. With that scripture in mind, I think it's safe to say that ALL people are heroes. We each have experience, wisdom, talents, and ideas which cannot be found, and never will be found, in any person other than ourselves. And as the class of 2012, along with every other subgroup of the world, ventures on through the challenges and questions which make up the wonderfully confusing journey of life, we have a divine responsibility to see the hero in every person and every experience.
Aubrey is the daughter of Mike and Luann Nelson, and the twin sister of David Nelson. She has won countless honors for her musical gifts. Aubrey attends the University of South Carolina in Columbia.
When I was in college, people often said things like, "You think this is hard, wait 'til you're out in the real world." Or, "Honey you ain't seen nothin'. When you're out in the real world--that's when the hard work begins."
Real world? Have you not been to college? It is scary real. Plus: in the real, real world, there are no finals.
Oh don't give me that. I know there are proposals and pitches, deadlines and due dates, but it's not the same. Really. It isn't. I know. I've been to college not once, not twice, but three times. And I've had about that many different careers. And seriously? Nothing compares to the intensity of finals. Often the only thing that got me through was telling myself, “In two weeks, it will be over; good or bad, it will end.”
There are some things that make it easier though. Here are a few tips I’ve learned from the 17 semesters I have spent preparing for finals.
Something to consider . . .
February 12: Abraham Lincoln's birthday of course.
Every year (or at least most of them), my children beg me to read the Gettysburg Address to them on Lincoln's birthday. They sit riveted as I recite this timeless piece of history. "Thank you Mother," they say, their voices full of emotion. "We are so grateful that you make time for these things that we love so much. You are amazing."
Okay, it doesn't go exactly like that. But Hey! A girl can dream.
Anyway, I love the Gettysburg Address and all that it stood for in that time in history. A few years ago, I wrote a piece about it. You'll find it here and it includes the full Address too for your reading pleasure.
Happy Birthday Abe! You were the real deal.
“Calm down, Mom. All you have to do is . . . “
“Don’t teach me. I don’t want to learn . . .”
“It’s so easy Mom; if you’ll just listen.”
“I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to learn. Just turn the stupid TV on for me.”
My son says I’m ridiculously impatient when it comes to technology and I suppose he’s right. I admit there are times when I miss the days when control was up close and personal and not one bit remote. But lately I’ve been thinking about technology that I appreciate. Here’s my annotated list.
Automatic Teller Machines also known as ATM’s. I remember when they came out and we were all nervous about this robot that took our money. Thankfully, the ATM has proven quite trustworthy. I love me an ATM. I love that no matter what time or day it is, I can go by the bank and get cash or deposit a check. Plus, now you can get postage stamps from these accommodating little automatons. Sweet.
Email. When I was in grad-school the first time, back in 1991, a friend of mine edited my papers for me. I printed them out on my daisy-wheel printer, separated the pages and removed the side perforations. Then I would drive over to her house to deliver them. During that year, her husband gave her some truly unbelievable information that she passed on to me.
“Vic says that there is a way to send documents from one computer to another,” she said.
“No way,” I told her. “I don’t believe it.”
“I know,” she said, shaking her head, “But he says it’s possible.”
Sure enough, before long, we were zipping papers back and forth and soon enough our computers sent whole picture albums to each other. Of course there are limitations. Now my laptop is in relationship with so many different computers it is susceptible to all kinds of viruses. Nothing, it turns out, is perfect.
Digital Cameras. Some of my readers will find this hard to believe, but back in The Day, there was a limit to how many pictures a camera could take before running out of something called film. In fact, I remember going to G.A. (Girls in Action: a mission-focused church group for, well, girls.) camp at Chowan University and taking my camera. And film. And flashes (the built-in flash came later). My mother would caution, “Don’t take too many pictures while you are inside and you should have plenty of flashes to last the week.” So when digital cameras came out (not the early ones; those were just irritating), it was so freeing. Take as many pictures as you want. Delete the ones that don’t turn out. Then load them on your computer and let it distribute them to your loved ones. Love it.
Texting (and cell phones in general). Need to send a quick message that doesn’t require a response? Text it. Forget your grocery list? No problem. Just have someone from home text you the list. Want someone to know you are thinking about them? Send an electronic warm fuzzy from your cell to theirs. Texting is quick and efficient. Of course it can also be outright rude. There is that.
I am also quite fond of my microwave and my programmable oven. Digital music is pretty awesome too. Oh, and my GPS. Love that thing.
So really, I like technology. And when I can’t get the TV on, I just curl up with my Nook instead.
New Year's Resolution #1: Post blog more often.
Consider this post #1.
Published November 7, 2009
I’m not a baseball fan—I’ll give you that. Still, I'm also not an anti-fan. I care if my son’s favorite teams win (which means the Red Sox and anyone playing the Yankees) and I like the Angels—because Reggie Willits is a real live angel, that’s why. (See caption at right for proof of this fact.) But no, I didn't watch the 2009 World Series. I did hear it, though; and I heard a lot about it.
Back in 1967, according to Google Answers, the average pro baseball player made around $6000 a year. In 2000, the average salary for the same job was $1.9 million. But get this. The median household income in 1967? Around $33,000. In 2000? Approximately $45,000. So, let’s just make this simple. In 1967, a pro ball player made one-fifth of his annual income playing ball; he made the rest some other way or he slipped below the average. Today, a ballplayer makes enough for his family plus 41 other families to live at the level of the common folk. (These numbers are, of course, for salaries, and don’t include income from commercial endorsements. I think we can assume there were no such things back in the 1960’s.)
Then there are the ads. An ad for this year’s World Series ran, on the low side, $100,000 for a 30 second spot. These ads tried to get you and me to buy stuff: stuff or services, we can’t afford because we don’t make $1.9 million, but that we will pull out our plastic and purchase because we think we will be better off if we have that which is advertised. (Also, perhaps, a discussion for another time.)
All this is appalling, but I heard something today that absoflippinglutely blew my mind. If you watched the World Series you noticed that during the game, little banners ran across the top of your screen pulling your eyes away from the batter. Stats of the player? Details about the game? NO! Another dadgum advertisement. You get this right: the $100,000 and up for the actual commercials was not enough! They needed more. What in the Sam Hill?
I don't care how much a person likes baseball. This is crazy.
Greed. It’s a nasty business.
And [Jesus] said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Luke 12:15 (NRSV)
(In the words of my preacher friends, "That'll preach.")
As a parent volunteer, I have often tutored kids for whom English is a second language. Such was the case a few years ago when I was working with a young Russian boy who was a student at my children’s elementary school. One day, we were working on adjective/noun constructions. He had written a story about building "a house from snow." I gave him some examples of the preferred English structure.
"If you build a house from brick, you call it a brick house. A house from stone is a stone house. A house from clay is a clay house. Is that clear?”
He nodded, eyes bright with new awareness.
Ahh, the joy of teaching: of shining the light of information into the darkness of ignorance. How much better off would this child be because I, the educated one, had taken time from my all-important schedule to stoop to his level of academic neediness, bringing him this nugget of knowledge? Surely his life was now changed forever because I had shared my gift of teaching with him.
Energized, I pressed on. "Great. So if a house from brick is a brick house and a house from stone is a stone house, what would we call a house from snow?"
He smiled and with great confidence he answered, "Igloo!"
Have you noticed all the half-priced candied hearts and discounted chocolates? Ahha. It must be February. February: Valentine’s Day, President’s Day and Dental Health Month! I wonder. Did America’s dentists choose this month because we eat so much chocolate, or because George Washington’s teeth were notoriously unhealthy? The world may never know.
In any case, I’m thinking more about truffles and petit fours than toothbrushes and presidents, how about you? Chocolate. It’s everywhere. No longer content to be confined to the candy shelf, in February, Chocolate struts its stuff on every aisle in every store. It sprawls out over office desks, offering free pleasure to all who will take and eat. Shameless!
So what’s a sweets-freak like me supposed to do when Chocolate starts putting on the moves? Tell you what I want to do. I want to jump headlong into the waiting arms of the tempter: gorgeous, luscious, sweet-talking Chocolate. Chocolate accepts me just the way I am. It doesn’t care if I add a Hershey bar to each hip every hour. It never asks me to limit my portions. Never. Instead, Chocolate says, “Have just a little bit more. It’s okay.” Who could resist?
Meanwhile, there stands Healthy Choices. HC says, “I love you just the way you are too. And I love you too much to let you abuse yourself.”
I don’t want to hear it.
HC persists. “I’ll take long walks with you. I’ll keep you company when you plan your meals and when you do your grocery shopping.”
Chocolate’s melting, looking a little weepy.
HC stands taller. “Come on, let’s grow young together.”
And so we live happily ever after. Occasionally we even enjoy the company of our friend Chocolate, a real sweetie who I like to visit, as long as Healthy Choices comes with me.
I've been wanting to start a blog for a long time and finally figured out how to do it. Yay me. I got busy getting this done so that I could blog while I'm in Israel--May 12-24, 2008.
So stay tuned! More to come.
Blessings and all that,