My jaw dropped. I looked up to where he always sat, stoic, strong, and ready to listen. Frank’s constant presence was a reminder of our need to take a deep breath and remain silent. Frank never spoke, but he said a lot. I remember once speaking to one of the administrators and we were trying to make a decision. Turning to Frank was the logical course of action, he was always frank and spoke frankly on every topic, if you were ready to listen. So what happened to Frank? Someone new and someone old, and an institution of SJM was gone.If you don’t know who Frank is, join the club. What I refer to as frank is an old wooden foot rest with the name Frank carved in the top. The foot rest was found underneath a pew and placed on top of the administrwtor’s desk. Frank was friendly, real, accountable, near, and knowledgeable. Not everyone appreciated his ever present gaze, they would ask why he was there? When explained, they politely acknowledged his keen insight and went on to another topic. So, when a new administrator came on staff, someone who did not truly know Frank, her gift of cleaning out paced Frank’s usefulness. Frank was removed from his place of prominence and came to rest in a corner of the workroom. From there, our faithful maintenance personnel, saw Frank’s presence coming to an end, and out into the dumpster he went. No fanfare, no solemn moment, just a heave and a hoe.
So what can be learned from Frank? 1. Silence is energizing. 2. Stopping and taking a deep breath is always good before speaking. 3. Words are over rated, when reflection is what is needed. 4. Faithfulness means being ignored st times. And finally, 5. “Don’t ask for whom the dumpster calls, it calls for you.” Frank you will be missed.
But hey, look, there’s BoB!
Have you ever just craved nothing; no interruptions, no noise, no hassles, no relational problems, no responsibilities. There are times I can sit on the front porch, stare out across the field and enjoy, well, nothing. There are all kinds of nothings, and if life is long enough I hope to enjoy more of them.
The orange leaves rustle in the wind; unfixed they flutter to the ground. Yellow, red, orange, green and the artist splashes color against His canvas until the masterpiece is finished. But, then again, it is never finished as Spring bursts forth life from the dreary cold of winter. Summer’s lush greens fight through a mixture of wet and dry until the earth, beaten and bruised, once again, stumbles into Fall. Silently the leaves fall to the ground like the tears of a battered spouse.
So, we groan and wait eagerly, waiting for our adoption and redemption, not in sorrow but in victory, not in despair but in hope. “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord,” (Romans 8:37-39). I’m just saying...
I saw the most amazing sight this morning, looking out the back sliding glass doors, across the harvested corn and out of the woods came a doe and a buck. The buck was young and his antlers small, (Two points?). They were magnificent creatures. But they were not what was amazing. It was what followed. Two 🐇, two 🐈, two 🐕, 🐎, 🐄, and the line crossed the road, up the hill and out of sight. There was something familiar with the sight. Then it dawned on me. With all the rain, there must be a man named Noah, somewhere to be found. He couldn’t be far off, and the boat(ark) would have to be enormous, and it was. Enormous couldn’t describe it, awe inspiring is better. I ran to the front of the house. Went outside and looked, and looked, for the Ark.