Lyfting Me Up

In ninth grade we had to run a mile in under eight minutes to get an A in Gym. That meant four laps around a 440 yard track. I remember vividly staying with the pack of reasonably fit classmates. Then came the forth lap. Mr. Clay shouted out “You are about six seconds off the pace”. That does not seem like much until you try to make it up. My lungs began to burn and the possibility of not making it in eight minutes loomed. He met a group of us at the halfway point and said, “Keep it up you just might do it”. I did.

Well, Seventy Five years is three quarters of the way to a hundred. It got me to thinking about the both the singular laps of my life but also those milestones of quarters. So today I will write about turning twenty five, fifty and as of yesterday, seventy five.

Twenty five—It was 1974 and we were blessed with the birth of Amy Marie in May. She was born in Pueblo on our move back to Enid, OK, from Denver. I was in my second year of seminary and I got an offer I could not refuse. I became Director of Church Related Student Recruitment and Coordinator of Special Projects for Phillips University. Basically, I worked within the Disciple of Christ Churches in Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, Arkansas, Missouri, and Nebraska, to inform and recruit students to what at that time, was the finest undergraduate school in that area. And secondly to identity potential students who might be interested. The single most fertile ground for doing this work was nine different church camps. So, for nine different weeks in five states, I went to what for the teenagers was their yearly “mountain top experience”. I found out quickly that my task was to be present to the kids and save the spiritual experiences for some other time. I did everything from a seven day backpacking camp in Colorado, to meeting with 300 youth set free on a college campus near Lake Tinkiller in Oklahoma.

Part of my employment was that I got to go free to graduate school at a great seminary. The faculty was the finest in America… hidden right there in Enid America. I somehow juggled being part of an amazing Development Department team, full time student and the totally enamored dad of Amy, who every week I was gone, added a new tooth or word. Twenty five years old was a year filled with so much it’s hard to grasp. I loved it.

Fifty—My fiftieth birthday was marked on a Sunday in San Salvador, El Salvador. I was there on a mission trip with a group of young adults who were working in the village of Colima, to help rebuild a community center that was ravaged by the horrific proxy war between the US and the Soviet Union. We had come to the big city to go to the Museum of the Martyrs. We learned to the assassination of Arch Bishop Romero and the massacre of a group of nuns, both by the National Guard. Their crimes simply stated, is that they stood up for the poor and spoke out against the corruption of government. It was hard to grasp.

Following the museum experience we went to a local mercado close by. I was admiring some woven stoles that a woman was displaying. In my worst Spanglish I was asking her about them. She asked if I would like to see a stole that she had made. She carefully displayed it to me. A white muslin with embroidered flowers, birds, butterflies, of all colors and shapes. It was stunning. I asked her how much she wanted for it. “Would 10 dollars be too much”? I said “How about twenty”? Joy abounded. I have subsequently worn that stole a couple hundred times, at least. It always gets admiration and attention. Someday that little girl Amy Marie, will receive it with my blessing. SEE THE PHOTO

Seventy Five— First “I MADE IT”!!! A couple of weeks ago the over—under was 60–40. Any way I might try to spin it seventy five is at best, the last lap of the mile run. In my 45 years of pastoral ministry, I have walked with hundreds of people through the various stages of life from beginning to end. The reality of where I am on the life cycle is not lost on me. One of the blessings of coming close to the edge is that I realize that every day is precious. I don’t really have a bucket list anymore. Rather, there are relationships I want to continue to nurture. I am working on a project with my grandson Miko that is currently on hold as he tries to finish school. The longer he drags it out with the very intense life he is living, all the more reason for me to keep going.

Why not shoot for ONE HUNDRED???

Onward and Upward,

Mark