A Memorial Day Prayer

 

Dear Lord, 

We humbly adore you this day.  

We adore you 

because, in a beginning, 

it pleased you to set the universe on its path 

and make it so the sun would rise each day.   

We adore you 

because you have sought relationship with mankind 

and breathed, through your spirit, your word, 

so that we might get a glimpse of your heavenly realm 

and find kingdom relevance in our daily lives.   

We adore you 

because you chose prophets and wise teachers 

and you sent your son Jesus

who made it possible for us to receive grace.   

We adore you 

because of all of the provision you have made for us, 

for the food we eat each day, 

for the blessings of health 

and of happiness,  

for friendship 

and for family, 

and for this opportunity to worship you 

and be called your servants.  

 

Father, 

we thank you that you have seen fit 

to allow our country to prosper 

and we pray that it may always be true 

when we pledge ourselves as a nation under God, 

undivided in promoting liberty and justice, 

because liberty and justice 

are Godly principles according to your word.   

We pray that our hearts will always be thankful for these things, 

and that you will give us the hearts of servants 

to meet the needs of those less fortunate in our neighborhoods, 

in our country, 

and across the world.  

Help us to practice compassion.

Father, 

on this Memorial Day weekend 

we pause to remember the lives and spirits 

of men and women who, 

down through our history as a nation, 

have served to promote these principles of liberty 

and justice, 

men and women who have served well.   

We honor the lives of those who gave their lives, 

as a full measure of service to their country 

and their comrades.  

Father, we thank you for their courage 

and for their resolve 

to do what they could. 

Allow us now to contemplate their service, 

and for some, 

the terrible price paid in life 

and in mental anguish.   

As we contemplate current or past family members, 

friends or neighbors 

who served in the Army, 

the Air Force, 

the Navy, 

the Marines, 

the Coast Guard, 

the Merchant Marines, 

or in other service to our country, 

allow us to value them for all of the right reasons, 

and allow us to resolve to be better because of them.  

Cause us to devote ourselves to wage peace.   

Cause us to be ever vigilant 

and devoted 

in our attempts to serve others.

I pray this in the name of Jesus.   

If God be for us, 

who can stand against us?   

Emmanuel.  

Twelve More Drives

Twelve more days of school.
Twelve more drives to Penfield Elementary,
then it will close its doors to students.
Forever.
I will miss the elk tracks in the ballfield,
the view of the huge chestnut barn,
the rock dams the kids and I built in Wilson Run,
the walk to the damp hillside spring when learning "ing" words,
the hundreds of thousands of violets,
the bent apple tree blossoming each May,
the huge classrooms,
and the closeness of friends,
both figuratively and literally.

I will also miss the drive.
Penfield is not as close as my previous schools--
sixteen miles as opposed to eleven--
but there are few buildings between home and school,
a lovely stretch to pray
and watch the seasons change.

When the jeep turns left onto route 322 each morning
I pass rock people scattered along both sides of the highway,
sitting,
standing,
balancing,
appropriate for the mountain called "Rockton".

Near the entrance to Spruce Hill Road

On the north side of 322

On the western hillside of 322

Near the ash dump on 322

East side of 153, near junction with 322

East side of 153

Upper DuBec-153 junction

I pass places where we have rattlesnake memories.
One is near the Greenwood Road.
When Paul and Luke were preschoolers,
we spotted a rattler on the roadside.
I remember my arms being stretched in opposite directions
as one boy pulled me toward the snake,
the other, away.
Funny, I don't remember which son was going which direction.
Years later,
Luke, Den, and I were motorcycling home
when we spotted a rattler on that same stretch.
We watched it crawl across the shoulder--
or "berm", as we say in central PA--
and   d  i  s  a  p  p  e  a  r   into the vetch
after I had been walking in vetch all day in sandals.
And daily I pass the big rock
where Den once stepped on a lurking rattlesnake.

Warning!

When the dirt road shortcut, DuBec,
is icy
or dusty
or slippery with mud,
I take the highway route,
but if I can drive thirty miles per hour
DuBec is a more time-efficient route
and potholes become the obstacles in a real-life video game.

Today, dust

Often at about 8:15
I am near the highest point on Interstate 80
east of the Mississippi River.
Big trucks of all types exit I-80 here,
and the road becomes busier.
There is the ravine where my grandparents' car landed
when they were struck by one of those trucks in 1984,
and there is the office for the Moshannon State Forest,
the road to the fracking wells,
and the fire danger sign near the entrance to S.B. Elliot Park.
Elliot was a busy place generations ago
when it was filled with family reunions
and baseball games.
My father-in-law,
Walt "Slick" Shaffner,
was one of the best-known ballplayers,
and I imagine him trotting around the bases after a home run.
This area contained the state tree nursery in those days as well,
but now the trees are all grown,
much too big for transplanting.
I follow the semis
and dump trucks
past the road to the sphagnum bog
(Bogs are SUCH cool places!)
down the absolutely straight two-mile stretch
past another nursery,
Johnston's Nursery,
where Paul landscaped during college summers.
It is now closed as well,
and up for sale.
Near the end of the two mile stretch
is a tumbledown fence.
Each April it is undergirded
by hundreds of daffodils
waving in the breeze of each passing truck.

Halfway point. On a clear day, you can see the Boone Mountain ridge

Many years ago in this area, seedlings grew into trees and boys grew into men

A great place off the beaten path

Daily fire probability update

Two mile straight stretch

Anybody want to buy a nursery?

April daffodils

Laurel Run's headwaters sparkle
between the cattails
in the beaver dams.
Laurel Run is dammed downstream
at Parker Dam State Park,
where CCC boys planted trees in the thirties,
where I swam as a girl,
where Baby Luke played in the sand
while Paul ventured out into adventurous knee-deep waters,
and where I have swum cooling laps
after sweltering September first grade days.
Next year there will be no more of that.

Headwaters of Laurel Run

Parker Dam State Park. Entertaining our family with frigid waters for generations

Before descending to the valley,
the trucks ahead of me are commanded to pull over
and I follow different trucks down the mountain,
in third gear so I don't wear out my brakes.
I pass signs for the Moose Grade Road
and Oak Stub Road
and the Lady Jane mine,
bump over the railroad tracks,
pass Morelli's gas station
(Full service! I will miss it.)
and stop at the light.
A semi zooms through
and then it is my turn.

Trucks must stop here...

...so you can follow new and different trucks.

Love these names

Beware of entering trucks

Morelli's. Always cheaper than Minit Mart, and they pump it for you!

My one stoplight

I pass the flashing slow-down-this-is-a-school-zone sign
near the historical marker in Deannie's yard
and turn left into the parking lot.

Penfield, thy days are numbered

Next year I will turn right on 322
and go to an as-yet-unknown city school.
I will visit these familiar mountain stretches
only occasionally.

Spelling Bee

It's been a busy week.
Instead of relaxing on the mountain every night,
I stayed at school.
This year was Penfield Elementary's turn
to host the DuBois District spelling bees.
Each night,
students from the seven district elementary schools
would compete for individual trophies
as well as for the traveling trophy
awarded to the school with the best overall spellers.
Our third grade teacher, Heidi,
volunteered to be in charge
and I told her that I would help.
While she did the many organizational aspects--
copying lists
and ordering medals
and trophies
and cookies
and lining up helpers,
I made signs and name tags.
While she met with the judges and pronouncer each night,
I gathered the contestants in the library.

Tuesday night was the third grade bee.
I met the kids just inside the door,
sent them for a bathroom break,
verified their names,
reviewed the rules,
drew for slots,
and lined them up.
As they waited,
I reminded them to smile
and to breath deeply if they were nervous.
Most were obviously nervous,
so I also entertained them with witty conversation
and had a ventriloquist conversation with my hand.
They responded with slight smiles,
then went on to spell their little hearts out.
C-o-n-c-h!
E-n-c-y-c-l-o-p-e-d-i-a!
At the end of the night,
a Penfield contestant raised her third place trophy high,
radiantly smiling in her pink fluffy dress.
Yay!


Wednesday night was fourth grade.
I expected them to be nervous as well.
Ha.
There were huge personalities in this group,
semi-humorously trying to intimidate the others.
I had to think how to gain control of the verbal bantering
without seeming autocratic.
"Only one of you will win," I said.
"Let's practice saying 'Congratulations'."
In hindsight,
I should have told them
that their name tag was not a toy
and not to talk onstage.
At the end of the night
I found myself hoping
that I would never be assigned to a fourth grade classroom.

As I prepared for the last competition on Thursday,
I opened my desk drawer to use my chapstick
and picked up a glue stick instead.
Hmmm.
I took this as a sign
to pare back my opening talk.
The fifth graders
were good combinations of smiling and serious,
earnest and funny.
In the opening, practice round,
a boy confidently misspelled "mom".
Thankfully, he did better in later rounds.
One of the kids that I thought would go far was the first one out.
He later confessed that he had done no studying whatsoever.
Among the contestants was D,
a former student from a former school.
D spelled word after word confidently in his newly-deepened voice.
O-b-s-i-d-i-a-n!
And so did the boy beside him.
After countless rounds,
Heidi called the parents up for a consultation
and the spelling bee was declared a tie.
D immediately turned to his co-winner and shook his hand,
then walked to the runner-up and shook his hand as well.
My eyes got a bit misty.
It doesn't really matter who wins a spelling bee--
every device has spell-check these days,
but to see good sportsmanship in young students
is a huge encouragement.
I was so proud of him!
It truly ISN'T whether you win
or lose,
but how you play the game.

I am truly thankful for D
and for his parents
and extended family
who have raised him to be thoughtful
and persistent
and interested
and smart
and funny
and kind
and gracious.
I am thankful for the opportunity
to have been his teacher years ago.
I am thankful
for all the other families
who are raising kids like D,
who have their priorities straight.

Our future is in good hands.