Smorgasbord

I stood by a table beautifully appointed with the most exquisite desserts you can imagine - chocolate raspberry cake, cream puffs with real custard, lime cranberry cheesecake - things outside the realm of usual dessert fare. How to decide?

I stepped back to think it over, admiring the cream colored candles embracing the well arranged serving platters and fall decor so nicely draped and placed thoughtfully about, while others approached the table and gazed at the extraordinary confections. The tables were gracefully situated in the center of the room with lots of space on both sides of the two tables. Scattered about the room were smaller round tables and groupings of chairs for intimate conversation and comfort of chatting with friends or meeting new people. We had all just attended a delightful ten year celebration of the seminary I attend. We were not in a hurry to leave, preferring to bask in the candlelit glow of accomplishment of something greater than merely the sum of each of us.

Ten years ago, a handful of faculty (three to be exact) and an administrator got together with little more than a vision and a plan, and began Northeastern Seminary. Their first class was a small group of interested people who had no idea what they had signed up for. In ten years, they have graduated over 200 students who live across the world doing God's work of caring for the spiritual needs of people.

In celebration of ten years, the Seminary invited speaker Leith Anderson to bring words of encouragement in moving forward. This year we celebrate the appointment of a new Vice President and a new Dean along with a second round of accreditation approval. The foundation is solid, now its time to continue building.

The courses I have taken so far have been a delightful repast, the list of application to life long and enlightening. Artfully served in bite sized chunks, carefully thought out and gently presented, they too are a wonderful smorgasbord of learning and growth. I am working my way through the raspberry of history, the limelight of early writers, the chocolate of spiritual formation. It is enjoyable, this feast. While I know all good banquets come to an end, I shall relish every moment of this one, and not be in a hurry to leave.

Toadstools and Rainbows

Thursday night. A long day at the library comes to an end, longer than usual because its my day to open, so I arrive at 7:30 am. I work the Circulation Desk all morning until 1 or later, then try to catch up with my usual projects. After I turn the Reference Desk over to the evening person, I pack up my bag of music and head for church, relishing the opportunity to walk the long block to the other end of campus, get outside a bit, enjoy the fresh air.

I wrap my raincoat about me and pull the hood over my head to protect against the light spatter of rain. It reminds me of a cloak I owned back in my early college days, a wonderful blue and gray plaid with a full hood that I had waterproofed with a can of spray-on ScotchGuard, a novelty at the time. On Sunday afternoons when I was attending both Houghton and Nyack I would walk all afternoon, rain or shine, wrapped in that warm cloak, shaking off the rigors of studying and being cooped up inside.

I am surprised to find that at heart I am really an outdoors girl. I have always known I must have windows and sunlight in my life, else I shrivel up. But as I think back, I spent most of my time as a young girl playing outside or gardening or harvesting. I didn't realize how much I enjoy being outside, how it feeds my soul as well as my body.

This little walk is a highlight of my week. I thoroughly enjoy the quiet street that divides dorms from dining hall, athletic center from private homes. There is just enough traffic to keep you safe, just enough grassy curb to soften your footsteps, just enough breeze to freshen the air. I can feel the tiredness begin to slip away, my shoulders not so achy, my brain waking up.

Today, after so much rain, I am surprised to find tall puffy toadstools growing on the lawns, tempting you to take a nibble (though I don't) and tantalizing the local critters. I gaze at the ground as I walk along, amazed at how many there are of all sizes and shapes - tall and skinny with little caps, short and squat with wide umbrellas and ruffly gills, little thimble sized brown ones and pure white capped ones bending gracefully. I am so intent on watching for them that I almost missed it.

The widest, most shimmery rainbow I have ever seen! Just a half one that came straight down with only the hint of a curve to it. I am sure it fell just the other side of Westside Drive. As I watched, the colors seemed to merge and smear together until there were just two colors really - blue and red. Then the colors separated again into at least six distinct ones. It seemed to grow fatter, then thinner, brighter then lighter.

I finally had to just stand still and watch for a few minutes, fearful that I would trod a toadstool as I looked up at the rainbow. What an amazing afternoon jaunt. I am ready - ready to sing and make music in my heart and with my voice. I hope my choir saw the rainbow and that they will bring its brilliance with them to rehearsal!

Sunflowers

Halfway between the Library and the Church on Westside Drive stands a utility pole surrounded by a dozen leggy sunflowers, their bright yellow faces now bent towards the ground as if in prayer for the coming winter, their visage weeping seeds for the birds to tuck away against the coming banks of snow that will lock their larders tightly. They encircle the pole, holding leaves like young girls hold hands when they play Ring Around the Rosy, though the only thing falling down are their brown husks and skinny leaves.

They appear bold against the landscape, the brightness of their lowered heads still attracting attention. I marvel at their strength, how so thin a stalk can support so huge and weighty a head. I wonder the piepan head doesn't fall off and smack the ground, but they are stubborn hangers-on. It matters not to them that the stalk is brittle and dry, that the life force has ceased to flow up the column. They are still hard at work, shelter their seeds, passing life on for others to benefit from, giving in their dying gasp a full blown and effective effort to finish the race set before them.

I note their tenacity, determination, strength. Next time I am in the trenches, hanging on by a thread, I will think of that circle of sunflowers, think of their commitment and providence for others. Yes, I can do that. I can continue to draw sustenance even though my resources are thin, continue to hang in there until my work is done. Perhaps I will put a picture of a sunflower near my desk as a gentle reminder. Bow your head in prayer, give it your all.