A Disciple of Trees

 

Hall of Trees, Earlham Campus

                In honor of many Euro-American’s Celtic background, I want to honor the tree in this blog.  As close as we are to Saint Patrick’s Day, it seems particularly fitting.  Our Celtic roots spread not only in Ireland and Scotland, but also England, Wales, France and beyond.  In fact, the English word, “tree” derives from the word Druid involving layers of meaning such as “true” Oak” and “know”.    A friend who loves trees and word histories named his son Drew.

A Party with Toasts to Honor My Mother

             

              Last night 21 members of family gathered to honor my mother’s 80^th birthday.  Some of the memories shared will help you see this pioneer woman.

                My youngest brother spoke of Wendell Berry’s poem focusing on the point that Mom was completely loyal and forgiving.  My sister remembers the garage shelves lined with the art and beauty of her canning: peaches, salmon, green beans, apple sauce, beets, jams, and pickles.  She fished with her husband, a commercial gillnetter.  If our neighbors had attended the party, they would  testify to the daily sight of a woman in a bathroom and rubber boots splitting her own kindling and wood to start the wood stove in our sprawling Victorian home without central heating. 

                V. also remembers her mistaken assumption that mom wasn’t quick enough to catch her after mouthing off.  G. laughed at the memory of mom flying down the Seattle hills

My B-U-M-P-S with the B-I-B-L-E

             

   In reflection on my own journey with the Bible, I think of landmarks along the way: hills, valleys, and plenty of bumps. As a child around ten years old, I decided it would be a great idea to read the Bible from cover to cover.  The boring parts did not deter me, but the violence made me give up.  I was sensitive to rape and pillage.  In my teenage years as a Fundamentalist,  I used scriptures as a weapon.  I remember driving off an awkward boy who wanted to hang around my friend and me at the campground swings.  I figured if I quoted enough condemning scripture, he’d convert or leave.  He left.

                In my mellower twenties, thirties, and some forties, the main way I connected with others in the church was in small group Bible studies.  I especially loved how Jesus was always giving it to those haughty Pharisees.  The Bible clearly played a front and center role in my faith.

                I do not remember when the Bible started feeling repressive to me.