Remembering 9/11/01

This week someone asked me, "How will you remember the 9/11 terrorist attacks?"

I thought of many things I could do.

I could release balloons with 'I remember' messages in them.

I could put a colorful magnetized ribbon on my car.

I could send letters of sympathy to the families of the fallen.

I could lay flowers at Ground Zero and shed tears of sorrow.

These gestures with heartfelt emotion are great things I could do, yes.

But what did I choose?

I chose to wake up on Sunday 9/11/11 knowing the world will never be as it was, but with a song in my heart because I still believe in hope.

I chose to attend my church services because I still believe that terrorists cannot quench my spirit.

I chose to paint the new stage backdrop during worship because I still believe in beauty.

I chose to hug my blood, friend and church family members because I still believe that love wins.

I chose to barbeque burgers with my best friend and his daughter because I still believe in fun.

I chose to take a lazy Sunday afternoon nap because I still believe in rest.

I chose to watch football because I still believe a little healthy competition is a good thing.

I chose to enjoy my cats' antics because I still believe in laughter.

I chose to keep moving forward because I still believe that no one holds me back but me.

I chose to heal because I still believe that in it there is joy.

I chose to celebrate the tiny future happinesses not only remember the horrors of the past because I still believe in dreams.

I chose to sleep at the end of the day because I still believe in peace.

I CHOSE all these ways to honor the lives lost and scarified because I still believe in freedom and justice for ALL.

Poetry

Twighlight
Faded Orb
Glow Through Pine
Melancholy
Purple

Island
Aged, Adored
Longing, Searching, Aching
Yearning, Siren Heartsong
Home

Ancient
Always Looming
Sea Rolls On and On
Dance Draws Me In
Mystic

Tribute

Eight 7th graders wade knee-deep through marshland with pencils and paper in one hand, sticks for collecting ‘specimen’ in the other. Splish. Splosh.
“Eeeewwww!”
All heads present turn in tandem.
“Ohhhhhhh, cool!” the boys chorus in reverent tones.
“Good job! That is algae!”
“Yay! Can we puh-lease go back to class now?” the girls ask.
“Yes, we can go back now” the teacher says with a grin. “I’ve got an example from everyone. Line up at the door like we do after recess!”
The girls are running without looking back.
However, the boys and one girl linger, still poking about in the bog.
“Awww, man! Do we have to go in?” she asks.

That girl was I. That bog was a tiny pond of water near my seventh grade classroom.
And that teacher was Mr. Edwards.
Mr. Edwards was not a charismatic personality or a snazzy dresser with handsome features. In fact, Mr. Edwards was, well, he was a geek. No question about it. He had slightly greasy hair with split ends that on good days looked like a small rodent on his head. His glasses were classic nerd style - big black frame, thick glass and yes, on occasion they had tape on them. His ever-present undershirt was always covered by a button up, tissue-thin cotton shirt that seemed to make a habit out of coming un-tucked when he sat down – which was often. He also wore fine gauge corduroy trousers that were a size too big and a belt cinched one notch to tight to compensate for the ill fitting garment. The look was awkward at best. He wore Nike knock-off sneakers that had a perpetual rubber sole flapping in rhythm to his walk. Every so often we kids would notice that the rubber sole had quit flapping and would ask if he got new shoes. I don’t think he ever did. He just took time every so often to glue the flapping piece back on.
So, while not overly fashion savvy, Mr. Edwards did love to teach science. He had majored in Biology and was eager to pass on his love for all things earth and animal related to we less-than-enthusiastic and unsuspecting 7th graders.
The school I attended was a very small private school in Alaska – two teachers and a few volunteer parent assistants for 25-ish 1st through 7th grade students. Mr. Edwards had to be diverse in his teaching material. He taught it all – Math, English, History, Geography and Reading. Bless his heart. But when Science time came around, the atmosphere changed in the class. There was more energy somehow.
I will never forget the day it was announced that the following Monday we would begin learning about anatomy – the anatomy of a frog, that is.
An awed hush fell and for brief moment 8 7th graders thought it was a great idea. Certainly we would not have to cut one open?!
“No, we will not be cutting ONE open”, said Mr. Edwards with a glimmer in his eye that only a careful observer would catch. A fleeting shimmer of relief washed over the girls in the room.
“No, each student will get their own frog!”
The girls were horrified at the idea but the boys and I were fascinated! There were simultaneous comments.
“That’s disgusting!”
“Coooooool!”
Over the course of the next few weeks we slowly and methodically dissected our frogs, learning about their various systems, muscular, skeletal, and respiratory. Certain images are crisp in my memory. I was strangely mesmerized with the goldge bodies that Mr. Edwards told us were there to help keep the frog warm. They were like fingers of fat that wrapped around the ribs and lungs. The smell of formaldehyde can still make me smile with fond recollection of Phil, my disemboweled frog.
On other occasions, Mr. Edwards taught us how to develop black and white negatives, helped us create a short movie about the Mayflower sailing to America,
coached us through research papers about the solar system, and taught us how to recreate the volcano at Pompeii with baking soda and vinegar. I will always remember the old rule of thumb, ‘heat expands, cold contracts’ because of an experiment that Mr. Edwards did with an old gas can. I had never seen a can squish up like that and obviously, never forgot it.
We also made a light bulb light up with a battery we created in class and made a real working telephone! It may have been the only time 8 7th graders were tongue-tied at the same time. No one knew what to say into the phone!
Despite all those wonderful concepts and projects that could have just stayed in books, Mr. Edwards taught us to go beyond the pages. He showed us how to have a love for nature. I doubt that I would remember learning anything about flora and fauna near our rural Alaskan schoolhouse except that he took the class for a walk up a hill to identify as many birds, bugs, trees, plants and flowers as we could. It was an adventure to take the concept of photosynthesis out of the book and put it into reality with leaves and sticks and plant roots. In fact, I sometimes think I smell the woody scent of birch bark and the faint sweetness of an Arctic Fireweed on a beautiful summer day when all seems right with the world.
Still, I think the most important thing I took away from my 7th grade science lessons from Mr. Edwards was that an understanding, appreciation and enjoyment of God’s creation shows me something of who God is. He has intentionally left His personality deeply embedded in a plant’s simple and yet complex structure.
So, now when I see a flower with exquisite color and design, I appreciate God’s beauty. When I see the leaves change colors in the autumn, I understand God’s sustaining power to let something ‘die’ and yet renew itself at the same time. I enjoy God’s power and authority in a raging thunderstorm and want to run into it and be swept up in the wildness.
So, to my geeky 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Edwards, I say, thank you. Thank you for teaching me to dig up algae with sticks that I may know more of God.