Today representatives from the Rochester Regional Library Council came to meet with us and take pictures. We have been voted the Rochester Academic Library of the Year! Yeah! It is our third year in this building and we are indeed growing into the space. We are reaching and stretching and striving to become what this stellar architecture encourages us to be, what our vision statement proclaims:
The Premier Research and Information Resource Partner
with RWC and NES Life Long Learners.
They ask us why we think our students and faculty like us so much. Is there something we are doing that other libraries might adopt? We have great staff and a customer service mindset. We function along a business model, using statistics and feedback from our users to inform our service. Lots of libraries do that. We are just blessed. Great faculty, great students, great location, great building, great support - its all good. How lucky can you get?
And now we have a plaque to prove it! Not to mention a generous gift certificate to spend as we see fit. What an honor to be selected - especially considering that this is the first time the award has been offered. Maybe we can start a trend! Wouldn't that be exciting.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Seasonal Confusion
For the last few days as I have driven in to work, there has been a rafter of turkeys waddling about amongst the stubs of dry cornstalks in the barren fields on Buffalo Road. For some reason, their presence seems incongruous to me, having always equated them with harbingers of autumn, not announcers of spring. Where are the robins that ought to be chirruping in this newly greening season?
The turkeys are persistent if anything, daily staking their claim to the grubs, ladybugs and big black ants that are beginning to make appearances here and there, including the inside of my apartment. Before, when I have seen this particular group of gobblers, I have only seen skinny guinea hen shaped bodies strutting about. I thought that if they became riled, they would unfold their tails like a peacock to transform into the Pilgrim's Thanksgiving poster bird.
Today I saw the poster bird himself standing in the midst of the field, rotund and poofey tailed, just like I have always seen them in pictures. I realized for the first time that the toms, the males, are the ones with the big auras. The skinny minnies are the females that make up most of the flock. One kingpin, fifty trotters. Not bad odds for the kingpin I suppose, but I wonder where he has been hiding.
I shake my head at the thought of a turkey becoming the welcome symbol for spring. But I wish them well. May they enjoy not only a buggy spring but a whole summer of sumptuous dining. Perhaps, like the corn that will sprout over summer, they will fatten up in prediction of a bountiful harvest (as well as a bug free environment). I suppose an autumnal symbol has to start somewhere.
Meanwhile, I continue to keep my eyes peeled for those robins. Perhaps they are trying to tell us that this faux summer weather is a ruse to lull us into breaking out our shorts and sunglasses long before we should. With today's rain, even the earthworms, tempting robin fare, are roaming about. Can the red breasts be far behind?
The turkeys are persistent if anything, daily staking their claim to the grubs, ladybugs and big black ants that are beginning to make appearances here and there, including the inside of my apartment. Before, when I have seen this particular group of gobblers, I have only seen skinny guinea hen shaped bodies strutting about. I thought that if they became riled, they would unfold their tails like a peacock to transform into the Pilgrim's Thanksgiving poster bird.
Today I saw the poster bird himself standing in the midst of the field, rotund and poofey tailed, just like I have always seen them in pictures. I realized for the first time that the toms, the males, are the ones with the big auras. The skinny minnies are the females that make up most of the flock. One kingpin, fifty trotters. Not bad odds for the kingpin I suppose, but I wonder where he has been hiding.
I shake my head at the thought of a turkey becoming the welcome symbol for spring. But I wish them well. May they enjoy not only a buggy spring but a whole summer of sumptuous dining. Perhaps, like the corn that will sprout over summer, they will fatten up in prediction of a bountiful harvest (as well as a bug free environment). I suppose an autumnal symbol has to start somewhere.
Meanwhile, I continue to keep my eyes peeled for those robins. Perhaps they are trying to tell us that this faux summer weather is a ruse to lull us into breaking out our shorts and sunglasses long before we should. With today's rain, even the earthworms, tempting robin fare, are roaming about. Can the red breasts be far behind?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter Rush
I barely notice the delicate purple violets blossoming on the side lawn or the gently nodding white daffodils with their touch of bright yellow when I walk Sugar this morning. I am focused on the myriad details to attend to in making Easter worship flow smoothly. I am only vaguely aware that the church bells chime not just 7 am, but ring wild chaotic joy in celebration of the day. I could not have told you whether the sky was blue or gray.
In the apartment, there is a flurry of activity as Kiel and Drew and their friends who stayed overnight rush to get out the door, already late from having worked all Friday and Saturday on Easter services at their place of worship. Sugar doesn't know which way to turn as we zip in and out of the bathroom and toss stuff around trying to dress and be on our ways.
The choir met early to nail down the anthem - I had not left enough practice time for us to feel confident and rehearsal is tense as everyone strains to get it under their belt. Lourdes and I had planned a duet for digital keyboard and piano for some time, but had not practiced it together until this morning. We recognize that it will be what it will be and that will have to do - not exactly the way you want to enter service for the most important Sunday of the year!
As I sit on the platform and look out over the congregation - a good full house - I am struck by their faces. How tired and worn out the adults appear! Some faces are actually pale with bags under their eyes. No one is smiling, not even the young girls in their new Easter dresses. They are busy fluffing out their skirts and nervously brushing a stray lock of hair from their eyes. Mothers are sighing and slumping in relief after rushing to get everyone out the door. I know the feeling.
The service is unfolding. During time for the children, the pastor finishes reading them a book, the story of Easter. She asks them to help her pass out eggs - a symbol like the empty tomb that from something seemingly lifeless, new life unexpectedly appears. They jump to their feet, eager to help, careful to make sure everyone gets a plastic egg filled with chocolate goodies, forgetting to be careful of their Easter finery. The children enter into the spirit of the day. Little rustles of happiness begin to eddy and swirl.
But it is not until communion that I see Easter come upon the adults. Perhaps it is appropriate that these weary people have come to the house of God for rest. What better place to feel safe and comfortable than a sanctuary? Surely being rested is something God would want for his children. And once rested, then the offer of a meal taken together with people who are your family. Yes, a celebration worth looking forward to.
How striking the change in visage as the pastor and communion servers stand at the front, each set of servers standing with a young lady between them holding a basket of freshly baked rolls, joyful young girls with their pretty dresses and shiny hair, proud to be asked to help.
As each row of people stands and approaches the front, smiles splay across every single face. Color comes to once gray cheeks, eyebrows lift from their worn furrows. Why are they all suddenly smiling radiantly? Did they just realize that its Easter? Is it the joy of seeing a young person help with communion? Or is there something deeper, some fulfillment of participating in a meal together, of being part of a family, of remembering your roots?
It is as if the sunshine of life suddenly shone brightly on us all and joy returned to mudville. Gone are the burdens of demanding schedules, the heat of senseless arguments, the weight of responsibilities, the anger at having to scurry off to someplace when you would really rather be home in bed sleeping in. Everyone is in the moment, fully participating happily.
In place of angst, the soft mantle of love - of being enfolded in the arms of Christ, and so filled with his love that you can't help feeling good and thinking loving thoughts towards those around you. The transformation is nothing short of miraculous! No amount of eggs, chocolate or otherwise, could ever cause such an effect. Hallelujah!
In the apartment, there is a flurry of activity as Kiel and Drew and their friends who stayed overnight rush to get out the door, already late from having worked all Friday and Saturday on Easter services at their place of worship. Sugar doesn't know which way to turn as we zip in and out of the bathroom and toss stuff around trying to dress and be on our ways.
The choir met early to nail down the anthem - I had not left enough practice time for us to feel confident and rehearsal is tense as everyone strains to get it under their belt. Lourdes and I had planned a duet for digital keyboard and piano for some time, but had not practiced it together until this morning. We recognize that it will be what it will be and that will have to do - not exactly the way you want to enter service for the most important Sunday of the year!
As I sit on the platform and look out over the congregation - a good full house - I am struck by their faces. How tired and worn out the adults appear! Some faces are actually pale with bags under their eyes. No one is smiling, not even the young girls in their new Easter dresses. They are busy fluffing out their skirts and nervously brushing a stray lock of hair from their eyes. Mothers are sighing and slumping in relief after rushing to get everyone out the door. I know the feeling.
The service is unfolding. During time for the children, the pastor finishes reading them a book, the story of Easter. She asks them to help her pass out eggs - a symbol like the empty tomb that from something seemingly lifeless, new life unexpectedly appears. They jump to their feet, eager to help, careful to make sure everyone gets a plastic egg filled with chocolate goodies, forgetting to be careful of their Easter finery. The children enter into the spirit of the day. Little rustles of happiness begin to eddy and swirl.
But it is not until communion that I see Easter come upon the adults. Perhaps it is appropriate that these weary people have come to the house of God for rest. What better place to feel safe and comfortable than a sanctuary? Surely being rested is something God would want for his children. And once rested, then the offer of a meal taken together with people who are your family. Yes, a celebration worth looking forward to.
How striking the change in visage as the pastor and communion servers stand at the front, each set of servers standing with a young lady between them holding a basket of freshly baked rolls, joyful young girls with their pretty dresses and shiny hair, proud to be asked to help.
As each row of people stands and approaches the front, smiles splay across every single face. Color comes to once gray cheeks, eyebrows lift from their worn furrows. Why are they all suddenly smiling radiantly? Did they just realize that its Easter? Is it the joy of seeing a young person help with communion? Or is there something deeper, some fulfillment of participating in a meal together, of being part of a family, of remembering your roots?
It is as if the sunshine of life suddenly shone brightly on us all and joy returned to mudville. Gone are the burdens of demanding schedules, the heat of senseless arguments, the weight of responsibilities, the anger at having to scurry off to someplace when you would really rather be home in bed sleeping in. Everyone is in the moment, fully participating happily.
In place of angst, the soft mantle of love - of being enfolded in the arms of Christ, and so filled with his love that you can't help feeling good and thinking loving thoughts towards those around you. The transformation is nothing short of miraculous! No amount of eggs, chocolate or otherwise, could ever cause such an effect. Hallelujah!
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