Herald-Dispatch Articles – Page 10

Observe, balance, take action, surrender

January 4, 2018January 4, 2018 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“Each of one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them—we can love completely without complete understanding.”—Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through it and Other Stories

“Women think and talk like wires running in multiple directions,” explained a friend and co-worker, Holly, in a conversation one day after work. I am paraphrasing her words, but the gist of her point reminded me of one of my current wiry mental dilemmas: How to love, or, at the very least, be open to others with whom I either strongly disagree with their viewpoint or dislike their behavior choices?

It began as my ongoing mental struggle with how to best traverse through what I perceive as numerous negative global and national events/personalities. Then, my mind began its wiry twists of thought further wondering how to best navigate perceived negative situations with those whom I am close. This was not easy.

Perhaps I am the only person with this current predicament, but I suspect, based upon my public observations, there others silently pondering this. For example, during a recent college visit, my husband, John, and I took our daughter, Madelyn, and her friend, Eden, to one of the town’s locally owned restaurants for dinner. Behind us, we could hear a strident political conversation dominated by a vociferous, and seemingly pompous, man. His words were issued in a manner allowing all surrounding tables to overhear his opinion. Dinner companions of this unknown man seemed to be held quietly captive as he used his bully pulpit to literally and figuratively bang the dining table.

Typically, we can overlook a person like this, especially, when his high opinion of his own words was strengthened by excessive alcohol. Sadly, our ability to engage and converse with Maddie and Eden, however, became inhibited by this man’s rants. We could see diners at nearby tables who were also struggling to talk and often sent aggravated glances towards the vocal man. Meanwhile, at our own table, each time one of us would start a sentence, this man would spew more hyperbolic views. John had had enough; he prepared himself to turn and face this intruder. Thankfully, it became clear that this narrow-minded man and his dinner companions were preparing to leave, so John remained seated and held his tongue. Once departed, it still took time for the cloud of abhorrence to dissipate from this otherwise lovely dining establishment.

A week later, John and I sat in church listening to our pastor encourage parishioners to remember that all people are children of God, and it was our job to love everyone regardless of their situation, opinion, or other circumstances. Ouch!

I cognitively understand his directive, but from a gut level, I find this difficult. Sure, I can overlook the man in the restaurant and forgive him from a distance, but what about family, friends, co-workers, and other with whom there is close contact? How is it possible to unconditionally love everyone? The wires in my mind wrestled, wrangled, and tried to wrap around this predicament, but the concept seemed elusive.

As Divine Providence would have it, a podcast, to which I listened some time later, offered a bit of advice for my dilemma. While the speaker’s words were more directed at dealing with a negative work environment, my wiry-mind broke it down and connected it to my own questions regarding unconditional love for all. Here are my take-aways.

Observe: Hold your tongue and judgment. Operate from a point of compassion and attempt to withhold your personal view of “how things should be”. See the real reality, as it is, without interjecting judgment and/or condemnation.

Balance: Balance the words and/or actions not from the place in your head that is reminding you of, “how it should be,” but, instead, allow the mind (and body) time to digest and assimilate the perceived negative words or actions. This may mean remaining quiet and not immediately responding. Try to look at it from the other person’s point of view—even though it doesn’t agree with your personal view.

Take Action: This is the tricky part. After time for true reflection, is there something you can do about this? For example, with regard to a political policy in which you disagree, are there specific actions you can take to positively impact or change the situation? Can you actively and positively engage to make a difference? If so, follow through. If not, then rest your faith in our High Power.

However, if it’s a person close to your heart, ask if their belief or behavior is life threatening. If it is, is there something you can do? If so, take action. If it is not life threatening, then take no action. It is worth remembering that mistakes, falls, and blunders are often life’s best teacher. Thinking that we know what is better for others by trying to help, offer advice, or even control whittles away at a person’s autonomy and, possibly, self-esteem. Instead, we must trust in the other’s ability to find their own answers and their own path while loving and supporting their highest image of themselves—not ours.

Surrender: Finally, surrender to the moment, the situation, or the person—they are not for us to control. It is not for us to understand everything. Instead, we would be wise to embrace Hillesum’s words and work on peace within ourselves, allowing that inner peace to radiate out towards others and towards “our troubled world.”

Finally, if I am to be honest, these four actions seem lofty and easier said than done. Still, I believe, they are certainly worth not only pondering, but also worth attempting to put into practice. Life, after all, is a practice, and whenever we do point, three fingers remain pointing as us. Therefore, reflecting upon what our personal actions and words communicate might be of greater benefit.

The River of Life

December 28, 2017December 27, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings, Travels

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”—Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through it and Other Stories

For from Him [all things originate] and through Him [all things live and exist] and to Him are all things [are directed]. To Him be glory and honor forever! Amen. —Romans 11:36 AMP

No matter how my morning, workday, or even weekend errands are going, driving over one of our numerous bridges in the Tri-State area and gazing upon the mighty Ohio River never fails to initiate a deep inhalation and sigh of release. Even driving by or over one of the many local creeks and other smaller rivers and streams can provide a similar feeling of momentary relaxation; and, even a sense of assurance in an often-chaotic world.

Creeks and streams source rivers. Smaller rivers flow and feed into other larger rivers, and, eventually, all waters merge in the great oceans of the world. It is this continuous flow from source to destination that may subconsciously be signaling my reassurance as it is deeply symbolic of life.

All rivers have a source, a starting point, called headwaters. These river building waters begin in a variety of unique settings. From clear spring mountain snow melt trickling downward, to desert groundwater the rises and flows momentarily above the surface during spring rains; and, from mud-brown seasonal rain-dependent hill run-off to the sluggish tea-colored waters flowing from marshes, all headwaters may appear to start insignificantly; but, in fact, are a minor miracle in its own right and critical to the rivers they supply. Furthermore, these miraculous headwaters perform numerous other key tasks

For example, headwater streams often trap floodwater and prevent soil erosion. They recharge the groundwater supplies by providing an outlet for these underground flows, and headwaters increase and remove pollution from our water supply. Additionally, headwaters, even those that are seasonal, filter and provide fresh water for fish and wildlife habitat as well as supply clean drinking water for human consumption.

Likewise, people are distinctively formed and created from the source of all life. No matter the country in which a child is born, the language spoken, or the color of the skin; whether born in a hut, in a car, or in a hospital; regardless of financial means, social status, or cultural background, all individuals are miraculously and gloriously a child of our Creator, the Ultimate Source of all life. It is from Him, just like the headwaters, that we are inimitably fashioned and from Him all life flows like the rivers over which I daily traverse.

Once given the gift of living water from the headstream, rivers flow continuously. However, the river course is not often smooth. Depending upon where the river is located, its waters may flow over rocky and/or sandy surfaces, have sharp bends that may swell and overflow with too much rain, and it may be filled with obstacles both natural and made-made, such as tree logs, larger rocks or boulders, sediment, trash, and pollution—both seen and unseen.

Likewise, human life does not always flow smoothly. The flow of human life is often dependent upon where one lives, how one is raised, as well as other external and internal influences. As one grows, each individual may encounter rock-strewn situations, deal with jagged twists of change, and sometimes, an overflowing of negative events. Furthermore, life often possesses copious obstacles that appear to interrupt the flow of life causing it to seemingly spin out of control.

My intent was a brisk walk along the shore, but with my first sea glass sighting, I was hooked.

The craggy shoreline of the Bay of Chaleur.

In rivers, eddies (sometimes called whirlpools) form due to obstructions, back-filling the void space behind or downstream with its characteristic swirling counter-rotation spinning, spinning, spinning to the river current’s forward direction. Some eddies may be quite strong, while others seem more meek, but all eddies appear to possess a sticking point and can seem to negatively impact the flow of the river. However, nothing could be further from the truth.

Eddies invigorate the water with much needed oxygen to support fish and other wildlife. Eddies also trap insects and other bits of food that fish can then dine upon in a lazy-Susan fashion. Furthermore, these whirlpools of action also spinout debris, trash, and unwanted detritus. Therefore, the seemingly sticking point of water flow is, in actuality, beneficial to the health and well being of the river. Thus it is life.

How often do the obstacles in life appear to spin out of control? How often does it seem the flow of life is stagnant, stuck; and like that river eddy, spinning, spiraling, and, perhaps even, strengthening to the point of either no-control or no perceived purpose. Could it be, that these life-eddies are necessary for personal, or even, global health, renewal, or growth?

Perhaps, the eddies of life that currently appear chaotic are invigorating individuals, large groups, or certain geographic locations with a fresh supply oxygen—breathing new life into negative situations. Maybe these whirlpools of life contain within their spiraling waters nutrients for a new way of thinking, living and/or problem solving? Finally, it may just be possible that life eddies might be spinning and filtering-out that which is not needed and rather than impeding life, or harming/damaging the individual or collective humanity? It is worth considering.

All rivers are derived from ancient raindrops, flowing over the dust of what was, and finally, merging into the great body of what is and will be as the water dissipates into the air, ultimately returning to the earth source once more; and, so it is with life. Let us have faith in the Source through whom our life flows originate, exist, and are ultimately directed.

Focus on the Positive: A parable of three strangers

December 21, 2017December 21, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”—Proverbs 11:25

John, my husband and middle school Theology teacher, once had a discussion with a few of his classes regarding if there were more bad people or good people in the world. Most of his students felt there were more bad. I was stunned to hear this. However, I experienced three encounters of late that illustrated how easy it is to allow one bad apple to overshadow all the good in the world.

Encounter #1. It is often my habit on weekend to complete grocery store stock-ups at a nearby location with a Starbucks. After unloading my groceries and returning the cart to the store’s entrance, I’ll usually visit the Starbucks kiosk. Corey, the familiar and affable, ever-smiling barista, remembers my coffee preference, makes it extra hot, and serves it to me without a wrap in order for me to warm my store-frozen fingers.

On a recent Saturday, I was pushed for time. I decided if there were a line at Starbucks, I’d skip the coffee. From the shopping cart area, I could see there was no one in line. I walked hastily to snag my spot at the counter when a tall, elegant woman, perhaps 5-10 years older than me, approached from the opposite side. I slowed my pace in order to turn around and exit the store. As I began to turn, the stranger’s eyes met mine.

“Please, Dear, don’t go. You seem in a hurry. I have all of the time in the world,” she stated, gesturing with her arm for me to step up first.

I felt reluctant, but her smile assured me of her genuine feelings. As my coffee was made, I thanked the woman once more. She smiled and uttered, “Merry Christmas, my Dear.” I can still see her smart red pea coat with matching name-brand leather purse, black dress slacks, coifed short bottle-black hair as well as Corey’s beaming face as he handed me my coffee.

Corey is an example of a person who continually offers positive and joyful energy to others on a daily basis–even if he doesn’t like to get his picture taken! 🙂

Encounter #2. Inevitably, it seems I must stop at the grocery store during the workweek. On one such stop, I was moving up and down aisles at a clipped pace trying to find the items on my list. Repeatedly, I encountered a warmly dressed elderly lady with tightly ringed gray hair encircling her head like a silver tiara. Her demeanor was almost ethereal, and her self-possessed smile was a constant fixture upon her finely lined face.

She had the habit of leaving her shopping cart in the middle of aisles, so that no one could get around it as she focused on reading labels and searching shelves. By the second, third, and fourth encounter with her, she recognized my face and laughed, “Oh, here I go again, blocking your way.”

I tried not to feel irritated, as I knew she genuinely did not mean to slow me down. I had also inadvertently blocked the path of numerous other customers over the years doing the exact same thing.

Later, quickly trekking to my car, I paused just before nearing it. A shopping cart blocked the path to my vehicle as someone placed groceries into a van. It was, unbelievably, the same woman.

“Oh, here I go again, blocking your way. Is this your car? I was just admiring it. Here, let me move. I am not in any hurry.”

While I loaded my bags into my car, she explained that she was making food baskets for low-income families.

“And, I refuse to buy the cheap off-brands for them with all those chemicals. If I won’t eat it, why would I give it to someone else to eat? I buy them the same foods and brands I eat. What kind of gift would it be, if I gave them less than my best?”

Encounter #3. Returning the following Saturday for another weekend grocery stock-up, the store was packed. Every cash register was open; and yet, lines were still backed up into the aisles. I chose a line and prepared for the long wait. Suddenly, a small, beady-eyed woman, perhaps a bit older than me, bustled her cart beside mine.

“I’m going to stand beside you until I can get behind you. I don’t want to block the aisle.”

It was then that I noticed she only had a few items in her cart. I was prepared to tell her she could get in front of me; however, she was talking in a nonstop manner with one continuous breath. I smiled, waiting for an opportunity, when suddenly my ears perked up.

“And you know, we prayed and prayed, and the Lord provided them with a white baby to adopt . . . .”

Wait. What? I felt the implication in my bones and thought of the range of skin colors within my own family, friends, students, co-workers, as well as my day-to-day interactions. Surely, I misheard, right? Nope, her blatant attitude was as set as her chin. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I interrupted her, stating through teeth wanting to clinch, that she was welcome to step in front of me. Thankfully, an acquaintance joined the line behind me, and distracted me from this unkind person.

We can choose to focus on all the broken & sad pieces of news, or we can choose to focus on the positive.

Several minutes later, driving home, I reflected on all three women. I could choose to focus and seethe over the words of the last woman; or, I could, instead, focus on the words and actions of the other two ladies, and for that matter, all of the other countless kind and generous people I encounter on a regular basis. If I continued to allow this encounter to fester within me, then I was, in some way, becoming like her.

In a time-period full of off-putting people and/or events, it is all too easy to focus solely upon those negatives. We must, instead, heed the examples of the first two women, and offer kindness to others. Furthermore, while we must diligently be aware of all the harmful forces at work in our world, we must also strive just as conscientiously to provide the opposite. We must join forces with others who seek out actions that attempt to bring about positive change. Finally, just as we sometimes focus on the dust, dirt, and disorder in our own home, overlooking the shelter, warmth, and respite it offers us, so too, must we train our minds to look beyond the disorder and decay of our world, and see there still remains much for which to feel optimistic as the first two woman beautifully illustrated.

Small Steps can Create Big Change

December 14, 2017December 13, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts.”—Arnold Bennett

“But, Mrs. Hill, if resolution is the end of the story, why do people make New Year’s resolutions? It’s not the end of their life,” asked one of my 6th grade students–his face was earnest, sincere, and genuinely perplexed.

I was leading a class lesson regarding elements of a plot. On the board was a triangular shape representing the parts of the plot. We had already discussed other components of plot, such as rising/falling action and climax. Additionally, the students appeared to grasp that not all plot development looked like the classic equilateral plot-triangle illustrated on the board, but that plot development can take all shapes, depending upon the story, evolving more like the dips and darts of ocean waves. The student’s question, however, gave me pause. Hmm . . ..

I suggested we look up the definition. Pulling up the definition on my classroom computer and projecting it onto the whiteboard, the students and I observed multiple definitions for the word, resolution. As so often happens with 6th graders, who are still willing to be openly curious in front of their peers, a class discussion ensued regarding all the meanings of the word, taking us way off the given subject of plot. Still, it was a teachable moment that later led me into deeper thoughts regarding New Year’s resolutions and methods for successful change.

I recently listened to a podcast in which the speaker was discussing ways to increase positive change. It was his belief that many people fail to attain New Year’s resolutions because they see it as an all or nothing mandate. Furthermore, many health programs, books, and/or businesses profit off our desire to change, by encouraging this all or nothing mentality; such as, “Buy all of our products. Only eat what and when we tell you to eat. You must exercise on these specific days and in this manner, and so forth . . ..” Thus, numerous people feel as if they have “failed” if they do not perfectly adhere to the book directions or company protocol at all times. This speaker was onto something, just like my 6th grade student.

Changing one’s behavior is a lot like the plot—what works differs from person to person, just a story plots vary from novel to novel. Unfortunately, many people hold the belief that change should occur the same manner from person to person like that of right triangle—you are either adhering to the straight line climb of established rules, or sliding down the long hypotenuse right back into the sea of old habits.

What if, however, change was viewed more as a jagged line of progression, like the rising and falling action of a story plot, which gradually leads towards the resolution? Additionally, what if we attempted to change in small incremental steps towards a specific purpose or direction, rather attempting to change everything all at once? After all, those negative habits we desire to change most likely developed slowly and over time–just like the plot of your favorite book or movie!

Why not divide habits into those in of need of increasing, and those in need of decreasing. Perhaps, this might lead to multiple opportunities for feelings of success rather than one. For example, if your the goal is to eat cleaner and exercise more in order to lose a few pounds and/or increase health, rather than declaring to strict adherence to the latest, greatest diet/exercise plan, why not look for ways to gradually increase and decrease parts of that plan.

One such example might be, “This week, I’ll focus on increasing the amount of vegetables I eat at dinner, and decrease the number of times I eat ice cream to a twice-per-week treat.” Then, the next week, continue the previous week’s habits, but add-in another “increase” and “decrease;” such as, “This week, I’ll increase my activity level by walking (or any other type of exercise) three days, and decrease my consumption of soda from two-per-day to two-per-week.” If there are moments, days, or even weeks, where you fall off the proverbial wagon, and we all do (Heavens knows I do!), just start all over the next hour, the next meal, or the next day.

Maybe try committing to rolling out that dusty yoga mat 2-3 times per week and practice either a 20-minute yoga session or meditation practice using a youtube video.

Even if your resolution to change has nothing to do with diet and exercise, it doesn’t mean the “what can I increase, what can I decrease” notion cannot be applied. Trying to improve your faith life? Perhaps, consider decreasing time spent on social media each day for 10 or so minutes, and use that time to increase the time spent in prayer/meditation. Trying to spend more quality time with family, friends, or loved ones? Then, maybe try decreasing screen time or work time by 10-20 minutes each day, and increasing time spent in face-to-face conversation, or at the very least a phone calls, with those dear ones.

Whether contemplating a New Year’s resolution or seeking some form of change for 2018, there will inevitably be some drawbacks, discomforts, or mistakes made along the path of change. It is often the dread and/or fears of these perceived negatives that often prompt us to give up, or even avoid attempting to change at all. However, by working on small changes, implemented over a long period of time, the likelihood of success just might increase as the pain of change might be decreased. Furthermore, each triumphant step can potentially induce the desire for the next positive step, and the next, and the next.

Small step by small step, you can create positive habits as you create and climb your own ladder of success!

Why not try the “small steps of increase and decrease” approach for your desired change in 2018? Then, perhaps, shifting habits will become more like riding a boat on the waves of an ocean—riding up, falling down, and yet, ultimately, reaching the shore of success in whatever form it takes. Even increasing one healthy habit and decreasing one negative habit can go a long way to overall better physical, spiritual, or emotional health!

Dear Homeless Man Sleeping on the Steps of my Church

December 7, 2017December 7, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“Love like I’m not scared/ Give when it’s not fair . . .”—Lyrics by For King and Country

The view of the sunshine on this morning from my school’s stairwell, just before the third floor.

It was a brilliant morning in spite of the chilly temperature. The sun, a bright bulbous orb of succulent cantaloupes, ripe nectarines, and juicy ruby red grapefruits—all bleeding into one blinding source, seemed to float above the river, gloating in its victory over darkness. It’s reflection danced the foxtrot with the silvery tipped water of the Ohio River on left side of my car as I glided across the bridge on my way to work.

Slipping on my sunglasses, I turned onto 6^th Ave., heading east towards my school of employment, St. Joseph Catholic School. The green lights worked in unison as I sashayed in the sunglow down the avenue with no stops. All the while, an inspirational song played on the radio . . .

The view of the sunshine from a house window before leaving for school.

“ . . .Live life for another/Take time for a brother/Fight for the weak ones/Speak out for freedom . . . “

Finally, a red light stopped me, just before turning left on 13^th Street. I waited, singing along, “ . . . Fix my eyes on You/ On you . . .” basking in the warmth of the luminous light of the sun.

Looking to my left, I quickly scanned the front of my church, St. Joseph Catholic Church, near my school, as I waited for the light to change, I noticed the coolness of shadow was upon it as the sun was not yet high enough on the horizon to offer its warming radiance. Something, perhaps it was a movement, registered in my mind that something was off; however, my focus had already darted back to stoplight.

The view of the sun that morning just before pulling out of my driveway.

“Find faith in the battle/Stand tall but above it all/Fix my eyes on You/On You . . .”

Slowly easing the car to left, I looked to the right, something was moving. It was on the church’s steps. Slowing down even more, my mind finally began to register what I was seeing. A man, who had been curled up in a fetal position only moments earlier at the top of the church’s cold concrete steps, picked up a wadded-up camouflage green jacket that had served as his pillow and shrugged it on as he visibly quivered in the morning coolness. He looked around in what appeared to be a sheepish and embarrassed look as he reached for a backpack with one raw, red hand, and clasped his chip with the U-shape of his thumb and forefinger with the other hand, absentmindedly rubbing his unkempt beard. He had to be freezing, I thought as I punched the code to open the gate to our parking lot.

Even my cats were warmer and better fed than this man I saw before me.

“I’ve learned the lines and talked the talk . . .But the road less traveled is hard to walk . . .”

Should I go check on him? Would that be a safe thing to do? I know what my husband, father, mother, and daughter would say: unequivocally, no. But, what does my faith teach me? What words do I spout to my students? What noble ideas do I write about?

As my mind waged its relentless back and forth battle, the seemingly homeless man made the choice for me, he was already walking swiftly past the now closing gate on towards the bus station, or perhaps downtown, as his long, lanky body hunched against the cold. I stood there frozen, watching him walk, and loathing myself for my inaction. I didn’t even try to stop him or speak to him. My inner cloud of doubt and uncertainty now overshadowed the glorious glow of the gleaming sunshine.

As an educator and former Kindergarten teacher, I try to look upon the inner kindergartner of the homeless people I observe and/or encounter around the Huntington area. Not once, during my thirty-plus years of teaching, has a child ever said to me, “When I grow up, Mrs. Hill, I want to be a homeless person!” Never, ever have those words been uttered.

Each homeless person on walking our streets has a biological mother and a father. Furthermore, each, at one point in their life, was once a small child entering school. How many countless hugs have I given over the years to “my students?” How many countless words of encouragement have I offered?

Most of my students came, and still come, from homes in which they have at least one parent who loves and wants them; however, there have been a few students with home situations that still haunt me . . .

Dear unknown man, I am so very sorry for whatever circumstance you’ve encountered in life that brought you to the steps of our church. I’d like to think that God held you like a baby in His arms that night on those steps. I’d further like to think that all the prayers, intentions, and words of the thousands of church services previously offered were seeping through the seams of the doors and windows like wafting incense, covering you with a blanket of love. And yet, the reality is as harsh as the shining sunlight must have been to your eyes on that morning.

I did nothing for you that morning. Nothing. I did not walk my talk, and I am ashamed. Thus, I honor you in this small way by recognizing that I saw the child in you: and, I pray that you will, one day, see that you are a child of God—and know that you are worthy. I will further hope that you will, one day, find peace, and that it will embrace your life like a motherly hug, or at the very least, like the hug of a caring teacher.

“It takes a soldier/Who knows his orders/To walk the walk I’m supposed to walk . . .”

Faith is like Baking–recipe for Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Muffins

November 30, 2017November 26, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in #breakingbread, Herald-Dispatch Articles, Recipes, Simple Observations and Musings

“God gives us the ingredients for our daily bread, but he expects us to do the baking.”—Chip Ingram

I stood there, contemplating the recipe. Would it be good? What if my modifications/changes to keep the recipe gluten-free, cause it to fall flat? Furthermore, what would my daughter and her friend think? I could be investing 20-30 minutes of my time that may ultimately end up wasted, and require me to start all over with something different. On the other hand, the recipe seemed to possess all the key ingredients . . .

I was hoping to create muffins that were not only gluten-free, but also infused with much love and, of course, yummy flavors that would appeal to my daughter’s taste preference. I was putting complete confidence in a recipe I had never before made, created by a person whose recipe-website I had never before used. Hmm . . . That is when it hit me. Baking was similar to our faith life.

According to Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is the confidence in what we hope for, and assurance about what we do not see.” Furthermore, according to the dictionary, faith has two meanings: “Complete trust or confidence in someone or something;” or, “a strong belief in God.”

Faith is as intangible as love; and yet, we all can recognize the feeling of love. Love, like faith, requires the proper ingredients, such as people, as well as loving actions. Examples of these ingredients in action might include (but certainly aren’t limited to): a man who thoughtfully writes a love letter to his beloved for no special occasion—only the feeling of love; the mother who painfully tells her child, “no,” not because she doesn’t want her child to be happy, but because she loves her child enough to give him boundaries; or, the grandchild who sets aside a work project, in spite of a pending deadline, in order to help grandparent. The point is, without the proper ingredients fueled by action, love may not thrive or grow. In fact, without action, love may stagnate, flounder, or perhaps even wither. Thus, it is with faith—and even baking!

Faith, without the suitable ingredients that are further energized by a recipe for action, cannot thrive. While it is easy to say, “I have faith in God,” action is still required. Just as I could have stood at my kitchen counter stating that, “I have faith in this recipe,” but then didn’t make the muffins, did I really have faith? Furthermore, there is no one action that defines faith, just as there is no one recipe to successfully bake muffins. Rather, it often those little, day-to-day choices and actions, that demonstrate, build, and foster one’s faith.

Compared to the steps for building one’s faith, baking muffins is relatively easy. I have read and baked a wide variety of recipes over the years to recognize what basic ingredients should be part of a quality baked good; therefore, it is a merely a matter of selecting a recipe with the flavors that suit my family’s taste buds. Then, the key is following the recipe, step-by-step, in order for the muffins to bake up into the consistency of a mini-cake with delightful aromas and delectable taste.

Likewise, there is the Holy Scriptures, prayers, meditations, inspired readings, church, teachers, priests and/or pastors offering a plethora of recipes on how to put our faith into action—depending upon our innate taste preferences—by that I mean, the inner calling. For some, the inner calling may require a quite visible faith-recipe, such as, mission-work, ministering to the sick, teaching Sunday School classes, caring for the homeless, working in hospice, teaching children, and so forth. For others, their faith-recipe may be more reserved, but absolutely just as valid, such as a private prayer/devotional room, reading the Bible or other inspired/devotional type reading during a work break, being at the ready for service to others behind the scenes, being the person who is willing to take time to listen to co-workers, and so forth. Just as there are wide array of ingredients for serving up muffins, there are potentially an unlimited components for serving up faith.

However, just as muffins require certain basics in order for the chemical reaction to occur, turning individual ingredients into one tasty treat; faith, similarly, requires key elements in order to turn individual gifts into the beautiful body of Christ. For muffins, baking powder or baking soda, salt, flour, fat source, sugar, liquid, and egg are typical baking essentials. Likewise, faith also demands basic components, such as frequent encounters with the Scriptures, daily prayer/meditation, and regular guidance from a trusted priest, pastor, or teacher.

The basics for muffins, such as flour, salt, baking powder/soda are required for any style muffins–just as our faith-life requires certain basics.

Once given the basics, muffins can be imparted with a multitude of flavors; however, if were not for the heat of the oven, no matter the quality of the ingredients, the batter would never change. Thus, it is with us. Our faith will only expand, just like my muffin batter, when heat is applied. It is through the extreme heat that the chemical reactions occur. Some recipes call for a bake time of 20-25 minutes in a 325-degree oven, while others require 45-50 minutes at 375 degrees. Therefore, it is worth remembering, (and I say this to myself as much as to anyone reading this) that when encountering the heat of our oven-of-life, no matter for how long or how hot, keep in mind the humble muffin. Then, allow those basic ingredients to provide you with the “assurance of what we do not see” while in the midst of life’s heat; and, may it allow us to confidently rely on our faith that all is at it should be in order for us to become “baked” into the best version of ourselves.

The liquids without the basics ingredients and heat cannot become the dozen muffins–nor can we fully “become” without the basics of regular faith life actions.

Even when you combine the wet with the dry basics, without timed exposure to heat, muffins cannot come to fruition–neither can we without the ingredients of our faith recipe exposed to the heat of life.

P.S. I did bake the new recipe with a few modifications; and, my daughter and her friend indeed liked it. In fact, her friend ended up eating four! Therefore, I share my reconstructed recipe with you. I hope you will have faith to bake them up sometime!

The recipe follows below.

It is worth remembering the humble muffin when experiencing great heat from the proverbial oven-of-life.

**Gluten Free Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins

¾ cup white sugar or equivalent substitute, such as Stevia

¼ cup oil (vegetable, coconut, or even applesauce, if you prefer no additional fat)

2 eggs (or equivalent substitute)

¾ cup canned pumpkin

¼ cup water

1½ **gluten free all-purpose flour (I prefer Cup-4-Cup brand.)

¾ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

1-teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

½ cup semisweet chocolate chips

(**You do not have to use gluten-free flour if you do not need/want it.)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Line muffin pan with parchment papers or grease.

Mix sugar, oil, and eggs.

Add pumpkin and water.

In a separate bowl mix together the baking flour, baking soda, baking powder, spices, and salt.

Add wet mixture and stir in chocolate chips.

Fill muffin cups 2/3 full with batter.

Sprinkle tops with love dust; a very light dusting of sugar, if desired.

Bake in preheated oven for 20-25 minutes.

Let us step away from media, and thankfully spend time in the here and now

November 23, 2017November 26, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings, Uncategorized

“For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies

For the love which from our birth over and around us lies,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.”—Folliott S.

Pierpoint

“Stop worrying, Mom. It’s Thanksgiving week. You’re supposed to be thankful!” Madelyn, my daughter, home from Bethany College for a week of rest, chided me with a teasing voice and an ornery look on her face.

I had chosen to rise somewhat early on Saturday in order to go to the gym, run a couple of errands, and return home to complete a few household tasks. This would allow me to be available to talk with Maddie once she was awake. I’ve learned, as she has grown older, that it is more important to be available during time periods she is most likely to be home before she takes off to be with friends.

Near 4:00 pm, as she was getting ready to head out the door to spend the evening with friends, it occurred to me I had not completed any writing. I often try to begin writing on Saturday morning, but on this morning, I was so focused on spending time with Maddie, I had completely forgotten about my side-gig!

“Oh, no! I completely forgot to do any writing!” I said more to myself than my daughter. That is when I received her admonishment to be thankful. Which led my mind down the rabbit hole of thoughts . . .

In an evolving, rapidly changing world in which the media, world leaders, and businesses vie for headlines, tweets, and other forms of attention; and, in which citizens strive for “likes,” “followers,” and “friends,” it is all too easy to allow these images, and they are that, mere images—not necessarily reality—to enter our psyche and plant tendrils of thought-control. The more of these images our brains take in, the more the vines and wisps of social imagery subconsciously subvert our minds until we forget to fully focus on the here, the now, and the visceral reality of our own life.

Appreciation, gratitude, love, and joy for our life, and all of the Divinely created earthly resources, are often forgotten—or sometimes viewed as a prop for a media-driven image. My daughter was right to call me out. I had spent time with her rather than writing. If I didn’t make my self-imposed blog deadline or the newspaper deadline, life would not end. What was the motive behind my worry for not writing? Furthermore, what is my intent for the writing in which I do—create an image, or increase genuine good will. It was worth exploring, reflecting, and self-checking.

“For the beauty of each hour of the day and of the night

Hill and vale and tree and flow’r, sun and moon and stars of light,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.”

I do possess a passion for writing. I discovered it during the angst of my teen years. Writing gave voice to the thoughts, words, and phrases stuffed into my head and heart; words that I could not, would not verbally express. During those developmental years, I did not (and often still don’t) clearly articulate my words, especially if there was a perceived negative emotion attached to them. Often, I unintentionally offended people, or “made them mad,” as my immature mind thought of it, when I spoke.

Furthermore, when faced with another person’s strong emotion, I am intrinsically wired to feel their emotion. While this is a good thing with regards to teaching students, as a youth, I could not separate (and still often struggle) another person’s emotions from feelings of my own. As a teen, I tried to speak, but as I simultaneously experienced both the other person’s feelings and my own gut emotions, my words became jumbled and never came out the way I intended. After several negative experiences of saying, “the wrong thing,” the fear of my own spoken words greatly magnified. Thus, words, words, and more words began to jam my soul like the traffic on I-95 attempting to evacuate Florida during a hurricane.

Writing became my safety net; but as I entered young adulthood, I honed my writing skill for the benefit of my education, not self-expression. Once I was finished with formal education in my early thirties, I abandoned my writing for many years. Still, the words continued jamming, jamming, jamming and damming my heart and soul like the Greenup County Lock and Dam holds back the Ohio River. It wasn’t until my mid-forties that a dear friend suggested I write again.

“Not only would it help you, but you might also be able to help others,” she had insisted.

I have written weekly ever since, and I am grateful to that friend for helping me reconnect with my writing voice. Writing allows me to work past emotions of self and others–leading me to important life lessons and revelations that I may not have otherwise learned; and, it is my hope that these reflections, that I so publically share, help others too. However, I must ask myself, am I attached to the image of my writing or to the lessons I continue to learn and experience?

My daughter was right to call me out. If I am to write, I should do it with a heart of gratitude and the humble intention of allowing Divine Providence to lead me to the lesson, the heart, and purpose of my words, rather than the need to meet superficial deadlines, images, or other worldly imposed standards.

It is Thanksgiving week. My writing should give voice to gratitude, gratefulness, and appreciation for the tangible and intangible alike—from the beautiful rolling tree-covered hills surrounding us, to dear family, friends, co-workers, and students; from the God that created our beloved Earth and our dear loved ones, to the sweet joy felt during an embrace, kiss, or handshake, there is much for which to be thankful. Furthermore, I encourage all, including myself, to step away from social media, the headlines, and all the other hullabaloo surrounding us; and instead, on this day of Thanksgiving, make time to appreciate, love, and savor the here and now—the reality, rather than the image.

“For the joy of human love; brother, sister, parent, child.

Friends on earth and friends above, for all gentle thoughts and mild,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.”

First Visit to see our daughter at Bethany College and Wheeling, WV area

November 16, 2017November 20, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in #breakingbread, Herald-Dispatch Articles, Restaurant Reviews, Travels, Uncategorized

“The oldest private college in the state (WV)—where traditions of academic excellence and lifelong learning are still the hallmarks of the Bethany experience.”—Bethany College website

Leaves crunching underfoot, sun light playing hide and seek with clouds of cream, cold air rudely stinging cheeks and uncovered hands, lungs and legs burned with the effort of walking up a steep hill, and not a soul to be seen. We had been here before, but this visit was strikingly different. Young co-eds did not descend upon us in persuasive greeting; there was not an influential keynote speaker awaiting, not only our arrival, but also for others like us; and, not a single sign of swag, banners, or other outwards signs of bravado lining our walk. Instead, our initial greeting was the random and sparse chirpings of the remaining songbirds that had not traveled south to warmer environs. And yet, we were not alarmed, but rather, reassured on this peaceful Saturday morning.

Pausing to snap pictures here and there along our ascent, we took in our surroundings. From the looks of the leaf-filled paths, we had just missed the peak autumn colors by mere days. The phone weather app that had earlier revealed an air temperature of 19 degrees, now boasted a balmy 28 degrees! Ahead, on the brick lined path, we saw the first sign of life: two girls walking an energetic and enthusiastic small dog. The dog paused upon seeing my husband, John and me. He cocked his head this way and that, as we talked to it in our best doggie-voice. Laughing, we continued walking as the dog jauntily returned to his short-legged step-hop-prance walk.

We were visiting our daughter, Madelyn, at Bethany College for the first time since she became a student. We planned to meet her at the college’s coffee shop, The Hub, but upon entering the shop, it was clear she had not yet arrived. In fact, no one was there except for the lone employee whose name, we soon discovered, was Linda.

The Hub, pictured above, is Bethany’s coffee shop.

Linda greeted us warmly, and upon learning the reason for our visit, asked the name of our daughter. She indeed knew Maddie, and said she was a “sweet girl.” In fact, we would later learn that Linda knew all of “her students” at Bethany. She was in her 49^th year of working in the food service industry at Bethany. It was quite clear she loved her job because of the students, and later, as we discovered from several students, they loved Linda.

Linda, pictured with Maddie, and Maddie’s friend, Ben, join us on the couches of The Hub.

I couldn’t help but think that is why Maddie loves Bethany College so much— a school small enough to allow the opportunity to quickly form relationships and bonds, not only with students, but also with professors and staff such as Linda. This notion was confirmed frequently as we encountered and met many of our daughter’s new friends, peers, as well as another staff member, Amy Van Horn, Associate Director of Career and Professional Development, who, along with her daughter, Eden, has taken Maddie under their wings, giving her a local family base—something we greatly appreciate! Nearly every person to whom our daughter introduced us, we ended up parting in a hug of farewell!

Maddie and Eden Rice seated together.

Additionally, we experienced similar positive with encounters off-campus, albeit without hugs, in the nearby town of Wheeling. To begin, the staff at the Highlands’ Hampton was just as accommodating, friendly, and engaging as on previous visits. Each time we stay there, we feel as home as one can feel in a hotel. Furthermore, our dining experiences over a two-night stay further reinforced the genuinely genial nature of Wheeling residents.

On our first night in town, Maddie and Eden, trekked down “Bethany mountain,” as I have come to think of it, and met us at the Hampton in order for us treat them to a dinner at a local favorite eatery, Ye Olde Alpha Restaurant and Tavern—a Wheeling, WV Landmark Restaurant. Its website describes Ye Olde Alpha “as a no-nonsense establishment offering meat-centric meals along with other classic American dishes and beer.” Our waitress for the evening was Jesse, and as busy as Jesse was serving numerous patrons, she remained attentive, upbeat, patient with our questions, and offered ordering tips for our meals. In the end, Maddie and Eden noshed on oversized, juicy burgers, fixed to their personal taste preference along with a mound of fries. John enjoyed a nightly special sausage sandwich also served with a heaping over plate of fries. Meanwhile, I enjoyed their house salad and stuffed banana peppers. It was scrumptious food with fantastic service. We will return!

Maddie, Jesse, our waitress, and Eden Rice at Ye Olde Alpha.

The following evening, after spending the entire day on campus with Maddie, John and I explored another dining spot as Maddie had plans with her sorority sisters. Therefore, we tried another local eatery, Wheeling Brewing Company. Talk about a hidden treasure! This wood-filled, cozy brewpub was also staffed with spirited and warm people. Fannie and Kylie took care of all of our dining needs, by answering questions, making suggestions, and even going out of their way to ensure my meal was gluten-free. Executive Chef, Ryan Butler, in fact, stepped out the kitchen to discuss meal modifications to ensure my dining safety as I have celiac disease that requires me to avoid consuming foods with wheat, rye, and barley. He even, unbelievably, had Braggs Liquid Aminos on hand to replace soy sauce in my delectable dish, The Kimchi Boat. WBC strives to work with local business to not only cook with local food ingredients, but also serves food in bowls, platters, and cups crafted by local artisans! This was truly a dining event that John and I hope to visit again soon!

Maddie, my daughter, in front of the Alpha Xi Delta house at Bethany College. This picture was taken in the Fall of 2017.

Maddie was busy with her sorority sisters on Saturday evening.

While Maddie was hanging out at Alpha Xi house, John and I checked out the scene at Wheeling Brewing Company. Fannie and Kylie took great care of us!

Of course, what weekend trip would be complete without Sunday brunch? Therefore, I fought my perpetual car-sickness once more as we made our way ‘round the winding roads back to the top of “Bethany mountain” in order to dine with our daughter and Eden in Bethany College’s newly remodeled and completely renovated cafeteria. This cafeteria is not the typical college cafeteria I experienced back in the dark ages of the 1980s. Operated by the same company that runs Eat ‘n Park, this cafeteria featured locally sourced foods, a made-to-order omelet station, as well as copious varieties of fresh vegetables, fruits, and salads. Additionally, there was a sandwich bar, salad bar, freshly made pizza stand, traditional hot-dish-of the day section, drink station, and ice cream/dessert station. I couldn’t believe my eyes, or my taste buds! With all of those food choices, I am betting the freshman fifteen is more than a college myth a Bethany!

All in all, John and I find both Bethany College and the Wheeling area an excellent location for a weekend getaway. We would highly recommend to others—which is a good thing since it looks like it will be our home-away-from-home for many years to come!

P.S. Currently, from November 10-January 1, it is also the home of Olgebay Winter Festival of Lights—a festive display of lights John and I also enjoyed as we made our down the mountain towards Wheeling on Saturday evening.

Try Mindfulness Walks as a way to recharge, return to the present moment, and rejoice in the gifts of God

November 9, 2017November 8, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“. . .Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet . . .

so that your blood with bring the color of love to your face,

so that the wonders of life will appear,

and all anxieties will be transformed into

peace and joy. “—Thich Nhat Hanh

“Oh no! We’re going to have to do one of those mindfulness walks again; I can just tell! I hate those!” declared one student, voice filled with indignation

“I kinda like them,” added another student sheepishly.

Though I had not announced a mindfulness walk to the students of a class in which I co-teach with another dear educator entitled, “Move into Health,” a few attentive students must have sensed my intention. After all, I had asked them to line-up to head outside on a weekday we typically spend inside. What the students did not yet realize was that our class-size was going to be nearly double on that day due to another elective class joining us as their teacher was sick; thus, we would not all fit into one classroom. Besides, it was the end of the day, the weather was surprisingly pleasant, and it was the week of Trick-or-Treat—a week in which all K-8 students, it has been my experience, hit a wall, become cranky, tired, and much less focused. Fresh air would do all of them some good, and frankly, benefit my colleague and me too.

These ginkgo trees stand at attention, guarding either side of the entrance to our staff parking lot like sentinels with golden plumage atop their heads.

Our students have completed a total of four mindfulness walks this school year–one in August, one in September, one in October, and now, one in November. Furthermore, our school is blessed to have a small walking path that loops around one of our playgrounds and the staff parking lot. Unfortunately, most students do not use the entire path. This is because half of the trail is out of the view of teachers supervising their recess time. However, through our supervised mindfulness walks, students in our class can take advantage of the entire peaceful path.

This is part of the school path students can regularly access during recess; however, the section of the path that goes around the staff parking lot is not regularly available to students. During mindfulness walks, students trek with staff members around entire path.

Long ago, I discovered the joys of this path as a transition between work and home. It began after one particularly noisy, stressful, and busy day. I stepped outside into the bright sunshine, took a deep breath, and sighed trying to release the anxious tightness that constricted many of my muscles. I continued walking, but took several more deep breaths, noticing the rich scent of warm earth, dead leaves, and the smell of sun-warmed asphalt as I headed to my car. Once at my car, my eye kept being drawn to the trees and shrubs surrounding the part of the path that loops around our parking lot—the section in which our students do not regularly play during recess. Placing my school parcels in the back of my car and without really thinking, I headed toward the path.

Underneath my feet, leaves crunched, then faded as my footsteps quietly padded over a mossy spot. Inhaling once more, the scents became more earthy and fragrant than the parking lot area. This shaded section of the path was observably cooler, the pigments more vivid and less washed out: asparagus colored green moss, interspersed with rusty amber leaves, dotted with leaves the color of garnets, margarine, and oranges like the skin of a Clementine that was turning brown with age. All the while, I could hear the flow of the end-of-work-day traffic, joined with birds in song, and a nearby church’s bells chiming to the tune, “He Leadeth Me,” a long-ago song I once learned to play on the piano and had not heard in years.

Leaving the shaded area of the path, seemingly harsh sunlight, once again, pierced my vision. Sounds under my feet changed to the grinding-crunch of gravel underfoot which was soon softened by sand underfoot, which then turned into the firmness of concrete, and finally to the uneven tones that accompany walking over lumpy ground, tree roots, and mulch. The sun warmed my skin with a kiss of heat on my cheeks as the moving air slightly brushed my hair. Inhale, scents of concrete, mulch, and dirt. Exhale, muscles relaxing, face and eyes softening. While, at the time, I did not think of it as a “mindfulness walk,” this less than ten-minute excursion became the seed of experience from which the students’ current activity evolved.

The instructions to the students are fairly simple. No talking until after the walk; and instead, simply walk and observe. What do you smell? What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel? What do you notice? What has changed since we last walked? What do you think? Usually, we walk full two full loops, then circle up as group, and sit, often basking in ample sunshine, discussing our observations.

On this particular walk, a Marshall University P.E./Health major and future educator joined us. As we gathered the nearly 40 students of grades 6-8 together, he joined my co-worker and me as we led a dialogue of what the students noticed and/or felt. When the MU student was asked to share his thoughts on the experience with our middle school students, he boldly shared with the kids that he could feel the presence of God embracing us as we walked, surrounding us with beauty, peace, and love. This led me to ask the students if any of them felt closer to God as we walked. One brave 6^th grade, freckle-faced boy raised his hand and earnestly stated,

“I felt prayful, like God was right here listening to me.”

Beside one section of the student accessed path is a “peaceful bench” for students, or teachers, who need to sit and feel the peace of God.

What seeds are planted in our students during our walks, I may never know. What I do know, is that for 20-plus minutes of time, none of us are plugged into devices, chattering, or participating in any number of typically distracting activities. And, while I cannot state that every student who participates in the mindfulness walks goes home feeling calmer, closer to God, more mindful of the seasonal beauty, or filled with a grateful heart, just knowing that one middle school student and one college student felt that way after one walk was enough. It was certainly enough.

Go, Do Not be Afraid, and Serve

October 26, 2017November 20, 2017 by stephsimply, posted in #breakingbread, Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings, Travels

“But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to every one I send you to and say whatever I command you.” Jeremiah 1:7

“Go, do not be afraid, and serve.”—Pope Francis

“It’s too early, Mrs. Hill,” yawned one of the 7th grade girls in my car as we traveled in a caravan towards our ultimate destination: Camp Magis, held at Bishop Hodges Catholic Pastoral Center located on 1,400 acres in the middle of WV mountains just outside Huttonsville.

“I’m just going to sleep until there’s enough daylight to read,” sleepily stated another young lady.

“I’ll just take a nap too,” I retorted in a poor attempt at early morning humor.

Neither of the girls said a word. Yep, they were definitely sleepy. After all, it was just minutes after 6:00 am, and most of the students were not used to being awake this early.

John, my husband and fellow co-worker, was ahead of me in his truck as well as five other parent-volunteer drivers, three of whom would be staying in the camp along with John and me. The drive would take about 3 ½ to 4 hours, depending upon traffic and length of stops.

The Camp Magis tradition began in 2014 for all seventh graders in WV Catholic schools. The name, “Magis,” whose Latin roots mean more or better, also comes from St. Ignatius of Loyola, who asked, “What more (magis) can do I do for Christ?” In addition, the Camp’s spiritual theme was further inspired by Pope Francis who urged youth at the World Youth Day rally in 2013, to “Go, do not be afraid, and serve.”

Last year, John returned from camp, after his first visit, bubbling over with enthusiasm for the activities, the counselors, and they way in which the students bonded—not only to each other, but to their faith. Thus, when I was asked this year if I would go, I had to say, “yes.”

Still, I must confess, the teacher side of me was bemoaning the fact I would miss three days of classroom instruction with my students. Certainly, I could leave plans for my 6^th and 8^th graders, but that type of work is not the same. Then, on Friday, five days before we were to leave for camp, Father Dean talked to the 7^th graders at the end of our weekly church service. While his message was meant for the students, I could not help be inspired as well.

He began by emphasizing that importance that magis means more and better.

“Go, be ambassadors for our school. Do more than is asked of you. Do better than is expected of you. Ask yourself, what is God calling me to do more of or to become better at? Be mindful and prayful in these questions throughout your stay.”

Much to my delight, our students took Father Dean’s directions to heart during our three-day stay. From volunteering to read during church service, to cleaning up after meals, to diving into activities with vigor and vim, to sitting/kneeling quietly during times of prayer, to helping one another during difficult tasks, as well as to looking out for a student from another school who clearly had some challenges—our students did more and better.

Specifically, two activities deeply stirred me. One occurred each morning. Students were asked to attend chapel at the start of each day, before any other activity, including breakfast, for a unique prayer service. I was prepared for whining, complaining, and passive nonparticipation, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Both mornings, students, with no prodding from the other parent-volunteers, John, or me, listened to the speakers, and did as instructed. Looking around the chapel each morning and seeing our students, side-by-side teens and chaperones from other schools, kneeling at the alter, or sitting with their heads down in prayer and reflection, was such moving scene—I could not help but feel a profound stillness and sense of peace within.

In fact, walking away from chapel on our last morning, one of my students said to me with a wide smile, “Mrs. Hill, I didn’t think I’d like having to pray every morning, but I feel happier each time I do it. It’s like God giving me a hug to start my day.”

She was still grinning as she took off running to catch up with a group of girls heading to breakfast in the brightness of the full-on golden sunshine of a brisk autumn morning. If only I could bottle that moment for another time, when teen hormones will inevitably cloud her vision; but maybe, just maybe, the seeds of prayer, like the fallen hickory nuts l kept stepping on, haven taken root within her and will help her weather stormy days of teenage angst.

Did I mention that the camp setting could not have been more idyllic? Fall colors were flamboyant like an outdoor Christmas light display. In fact, many of our activities required hiking up hills of multi-hued leafy paths.

One of these hikes was based upon Mother Teresa’s quote, . . .”God is the friend of silence. . . . . We need silence to be able to touch souls.” Kids and chaperones alike were invited to spread over and up the side of a hill. Once nestled into a spot away from other campers, we were to spend 20 minutes in total silence.

I chose to walk as high as was permitted on the edge of a heavily forested area. The wind continuously whistled, rustling the leaves. Colors of amber, rust, and honey gently rained around me. The scent of overly-ripened apples, the detritus of fall, and damp earth filled my nostrils. I leaned back on my hands sensing the blades of cool, green grass bending with the pressure of my touch. The mountains across the valley were rolling and numerous, striking a bold, colorful contrast to the cobalt sky and soft, billowy clouds. Below me were students immersed in the sounds of nature and stillness. It was as if this natural resonance were an old-school felt eraser wiping away the mental, monkey-chatter often scrawled upon my mind. This was a Divine moment on a Divine canvas.

Such symbolic representation—we were separate; and yet, we were one in His silence. What a message: One world; one collective group of people–divinely created to serve one another and our earth.

Magis. Let us do more. Let us do better.