I Am A Seed

I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately.

Last Thursday my grandpa, Elmore Blain, passed away.
Very early this morning, Ashley’s grandma, Karla Lesslie, passed away.

I want to share a thought that has encouraged me.

It might come out a bit like a written sermon, but hey, I’m a pastor. I can’t help it.

Paul writes to the church in Corinth, and talks to them about death and resurrection. Especially resurrection. They are arguing over whether or not there will be a resurrection at all, and if so, what kind of bodies the people will have, where those bodies will come from, what they will look like, how will they work, etc.

Paul says this;

“But someone will ask, 'How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?' How foolish! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed, perhaps of wheat or of something else. But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed he gives it’s own body.”

- I Corinthians 15:35-38

We have four Norway Maple trees in our yard. Every year I rake up millions of seeds - the helicopter wing kind. They are small seeds, about the size of a pea. They grow into these huge, beautiful, shady, amazing trees.

Paul says the resurrection body is no more similar to our earthly bodies than a seed is to a tree. The seed is just the beginning. The seed is the starting point. The tree is like the seed in some ways. An apple seed doesn’t grow into an orange tree. A maple seed doesn’t grow into a birch. In that way the seed and the tree are the same. But the tree is so much bigger and brighter and more alive than the seed ever was, even when it was still alive and growing on the branch.

The seed is complex, beautiful, and amazing. I wonder at how something so tiny can grow into something so enormous. But it was not made to be a seed. A seed is only a small representation of what is to come. A seed is supposed to be a tree, or wheat, or a flower, or a potato. It’s not supposed to stay a seed.

The catch is that in order for the seed to become what it is supposed to be, it has to die. It has to give up its life, and be put into the ground. Think about a tree that is 100 years old, and someone being sad that the seed had to die before the tree could grow. That sadness, if it is exists at all, is so small that it starts to not be a sadness at all.

When people we love die, it hurts. I watched my grandpa take his last breath, with three other grown men, and my mom, all of us crying like babies, and my grandma clutching his arm, weeping. Ashley sat up many sleepless nights by her grandma’s side, the doctors saying, “It should be today.” every day for a week. Death hurts. We mourn. It isn’t easy.

But we weren’t made for this world. Our true life is still waiting for us. If we live forever here on this earth, we can never become who we were deeply, truly, eternally made to be. A seed isn’t supposed to stay a seed. It’s supposed to become a tree.

Later in that same passage, Paul says,
“When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: 'Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?'"

And so Death is no longer a defeat. Death is no longer the final disaster. Death becomes a necessary transition into true life. Through faith in Christ, Death has been defeated. Through a beautiful irony, death in Christ means the beginning of true life. Bigger, brighter, stronger, more beautiful.

We should not mourn for the body that dies, and is planted in the ground. We should be filled with joy and hope that the life of one who has their hope in Christ has not ended, but only just begun.

I will end with lyrics from the song “I Am A Seed,” by David Crowder Band.

“Oh I've been pushed down into the ground
Oh how I have been trampled down
Lord I put my trust in thee
You won't turn your back on me

Oh I am a seed
Oh I am a seed
I've been pushed down into the ground
But I will rise up a tree”

Gone Home

In October of 2010, I hopped a last minute flight to visit my grandma and grandpa after Grandma had been diagnosed with cancer. The doctors thought then that she would pass away within just a few months, but she didn't. She fought. Hard.

Almost eighteen months later, my grandma may have lost her fight against cancer, but she really won her fight for Life.

I was able to fly home this last weekend, and soak up a few more memories, kisses, and conversations with the grandma who baked my wedding cake, the grandma who told me as a kid to cry all my tears into buckets so I could save them, the grandma who led a beautiful example of what marriage could look like and lived that marriage for almost 53 years.

Josh's grandpa Elmore just passed away a week ago today. His service was Monday, and it was a beautiful celebration of Elmore's life. Elmore lived a life devoted to God, and has left behind a legacy of children and grandchildren who want to pursue the same Christ he did.

Josh and I are so blessed to have grandparents who have impacted the kingdom, and who have modeled Christ-likeness. Were they perfect? Absolutely not. But were they sold out believers? Absolutely yes.

I can only imagine what Grandma opened her eyes to this morning as she left this earthly home to find embrace in the Father's arms. And I can only imagine the reunion that is taking place in the lofty realms right now.

And I can't help but smile. I'm heart broken at my own loss of a grandma, but overjoyed at the freedom of pain and weariness that Grandma has found.

Today is a good day.

And Grandma wins.

The Iliad Comes to Life!

When the semester ended, six of my brightest seniors decided they'd rather be in my dual credit English class, leaving behind twelve very cranky seniors who just want to graduate. They don't want to read Hamlet, they don't want to read Faust, and they don't want to read The Iliad.

The Iliad is giving them particular grief because they just can't seem to keep the character names straight, or the allegiance of each character.

I'm pulling my hair out.

I gave them a quiz...

Everyone failed.

I tried a new, groundbreaking instruction method called the PEAK System, then gave them the exact same quiz to check for growth...

Everyone improved, but half only improved a to a higher "F".

How do I get these seniors to understand Homer's Iliad!????

Possibly one of the most random ideas I have ever had seems to have done the trick.

I bought toys.

Well, actually, Josh bought toys while he was in town picking up three wonderful OKWU students from the airport for Where's Weippe Ski Retreat, and he found an array of colorful and somewhat strange action figures, including G.I. Joe's, PEZ, and Happy Little Family.

I taped yellow on the gods, orange on the Achaeans, green on the Trojans, and pink on the Spartans. Some figures had two colors, such as Achilles, because he is both god and man, Myrmidon and Achaean, and also Helen because she was Spartan, then was stolen by a Trojan.

I thought up a funny saying for each figure, playing with them as I explained (which, if you know me well, then you know this is one of the hugest stretches of my entire life because I didn't even play with toys as a child...I played with paper I dug out of the trashcan!), then mixed all of the action figures up and told one of the boys to give a shot at his own explanation.

To my delight, he got it!

And so did boy #2, and boy #3, and boy #4.

One pricey investment in childhood action figures may have just saved my burnt out seniors from failure.

This puts a whole new twist on differentiated instruction, and while I don't think I'll be winning any awards for it, at least they've got it! And I finally learned to play with toys. Blake, you would be so proud!

Vanity is not Fair

The sign of a truly great book or movie is that emotion is created or stirred within the reader/watcher.

I try to get my students to appreciate literature in its ability to make the reader mourn a character never tangible, or laugh at an invisible event seen only in the mind's own eye. I also try to relay the value of literature when it makes the reader mad.

Emotion is good, and through literature, full emotions can be experienced.

"To Kill A Mockingbird" stirs up a sense of justice and anger for the lack of justice among citizens of Alabama.

"The Iliad" stirs pride for Hector as a hero, and hurt over his death. It makes the reader hate Achilles for abusing Hector, but then love him for his selflessness to save Briseis.

"Fahrenheit 451" makes the reader stop and consider the importance of history and literature as Ray Bradbury masterfully pens a stanza from "Dover Beach," whose theme laments the loss of faith among people, which, to Guy Montag, serves as a lamentation over the loss of knowledge and memory. This lamentation pushes Montag to redeem society of its ignorance, even though he loses everything in the process.

So many wonderful books provide examples of how to live, and so many novels point toward Christ. I love picking out themes and plots that point toward Truth.

But today, as I watched the Hollywood hit "Vanity Fair," I felt only anger. There was no justice, no grace, no lamenting loss and persevering to recover the things that fell away. There was only...selfishness. Greed. Dishonesty.

There was no love.

Thakeray's 1678 masterpiece has been bouncing around in my head all day, because it is only hopelessness.

If society lost justice, heroism, faith, and perseverance, then society would be "Vanity Fair," an endless flea market of cheap shots and selfish gain.

In my anger toward the movie, I realized how empty life could be if I lived as Rebecca Sharp or Rawden Crawley.

It would be meaningless. Desperate. Lost.

The English teacher in me needs some kind of point. Some kind of purpose.

Why write "Vanity Fair?"

You can read a summary here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vanity_Fair_%28novel%29.

Your thoughts?

New Year, New Friends

I was actually nervous as I pulled away from our house today and drove the 7-mile drive along the river to our neighboring town. The new music teacher and I decided to get together, and I told Josh, "I'll either be back soon, which means it didn't go well, or I'll be gone a while, which means we hit it off."

I've sent Liz several notes this year, just trying to encourage her in her first year of teaching, and Tuesday she sent me an email titled, "Let's be friends." A few more emails, and we decided to meet for coffee.

Some of my favorite memories were made over coffee, including nothing but a friend, and time.

Four hours after Liz and I sat down, I decided I've finally made a friend here my heart resonates with, much like my friends from college and high school.

We talked about music, we talked about literature. We talked about education, culture shock in our small town, the need to be silly, and our love for games. We talked about God.

And I'm just thankful. God brought Josh and I here, and he knew I wanted a friend. It's awesome to see his faithfulness at work. I've been blessed with so many great friends throughout the years, and I'm excited that maybe I've stumbled upon another one. Here. It's been so hard to find a great friend here, in Kooskia.

But God is faithful.

And I am most assuredly delighted.

Reunited, And It Feels So Good!

Josh and I are counting ourselves pretty lucky to have friends who not only flew all the way to Idaho to spend part of their Christmas vacation with us, but who also spent their second anniversary with us.

Brett and Rebecka were here for almost a whole week! We spent much of our time laughing over games and college memories, but we also spent time talking about literature, and the Word, driving around the scenic mountains of northern Idaho, going side-ways while driving around the scenic mountains of Idaho (whoops!), and watching the new TV series, "Once Upon a Time." Brett and Rebecka also spoiled our two dogs, Ivan and Stella, both of whom have been pacing the house all day long searching for their new-found friends.

Brett and Rebecka were here to witness our rival basketball game, as well as the dodge-ball game at half-time between CV teachers and the opposing school's teachers. I haven't busted out my dodge-ball moves since college, and sadly, CV did not walk away victorious.

Brett and Rebecka asked many questions and pointed out cultural differences I have already gotten used to. It seemed almost shocking to realize much of Idaho's culture shock has already waned for me, like the size of butter sticks, camp-trailer main streets, and multiple bars in towns of 500 or less.

We had one unexpected visitor, this week, one who was quite unwelcome. Amid the remodeling of our bathroom, Josh and I also did a quick remodel so that Brett and Rebecka would have their own room while they were here.

Josh was outside, and I heard a tell-tale "squeak," then a furry little head popped out from behind a dresser.

I started screaming and crying almost simultaneously, while Ivan and Stella sat in the doorway looking confused. The mouse ran right by them unscathed from their dog-like brilliance.

Josh rushed in to my hysterics, set several traps, then we left to pick Brett and Rebecka up from the airport. Peanut butter was the first bait, but the little rodent scraped the peanut butter off, then scurried away.

The last day of Brett and Rebecka's stay, we found more signs of our unwanted tenant. Josh set up more traps, this time with cheddar cheese, and the little rascal wasn't quite so skilled. My husband is my hero!

It was so good to have friends. I take for granted people who I can just pick up right where I left off with, and Brett and Rebecka are those kinds of friends.

This will be a Christmas to remember!

In two short days, Josh and I will jump in our Jeep Grand Cherokee and head for Rapid City to spend several days with Don and Patty, as well as my mom and dad, and Tom, Andrew, and Austin.

This is a Christmas of transition in terms of traditions and settings, but where there is family, there is celebration.

To each of you traveling this Christmas, be sure to take lots of pictures, sing lots of Christmas songs, and enjoy your family!

Much love to each of you!

Sunday Morning Thoughts

I'm up early, which is strange- can't sleep. The Christmas tree lights are on, the valley is still dark, our two Schnauzers are curled up at my feet, there is a hot cup of coffee on the table beside me, and Josh is sleeping.

The day hasn't quite started yet, and even though our small house is peaceful and unchanged, with flecks of snow nestled around the edges, my heart is restless, ready for the change coming.

Josh and I spent last night in Weippe with Don and Patty, who I am ever proud to call parents, and very blessed to call friends. We've spent hundreds of evenings in their house- laughing, eating, crying, joking- but this time, we didn't sit around the table to play games, we sat around a very bare living room, with boxes decorating the floors.

It will be so hard to tell Don and Patty goodbye as they head for South Dakota. Josh and I are so excited for the adventures that lie ahead for them, but we're grieving for ourselves.

This will be a lonely valley.

I guess this isn't a blog where I have much to say. Change can be exciting and we can be eager for it, but when we have to sit back and watch others go first, driving Change, it's really hard to be left at the curb, waving goodbye.

Please join me in prayer for Don and Patty as they go. I know God has something wonderful in store for them! And I know God can take care of Josh and I here, too.