Found after Half-A-Year...

It was Christmas Break, and a dozen volunteers and I were in the building working on the “Under One Roof” project. I was looking for a roll of duct tape in a large box that has been in the corner of my office since mid-August when we moved back into our building. Along with the tape, I found an object wrapped in paper towels with a rubber band around it. I studied the thing in disbelief—not wondering what it was but amazed that half-a-year had passed since I’d last seen it.

I had put this object in that box at 6:00 PM, June 29, 2012. How could I possibly remember that exact point in time?

Just a few weeks before that date, all the teachers had been asked to turn in their keys and remove their classroom belongings by June 20^th. With the help of dozens of parents and students, the classrooms were empty and four storage units a half-mile away were packed from floor to ceiling. The task took three days, but we met the stated deadline, and we were trusting God to direct our path between then and September. There is no earthly way to explain the peace and good spirit that the staff had as we stepped into the summer of 2012, but never did we better understand  I Peter 5:7, "Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you."  I will admit, however, that the school was sadly quiet for the next nine days as the office staff packed and wrapped up the loose ends of the 2011-2012 school year.

On that last business day of the school’s fiscal year, Friday, June 29^th, the office staff had offered to stay and help me pack what little remained, but I assured them I was almost done and could roll out my last boxes on a kitchen cart. That final hour was quiet until the custodian stepped in to remind me he was scheduled to lock up and code out at 6:00. He and I were the last to leave the building that night, and it felt strange not knowing when or whether ever I would return.
 
That’s how I remember what time it was when I wrapped the thing in paper towels. That’s how I knew it had been a half-a-year since I had seen it.

The six months seemed a blur until I pulled off the paper towels and stared down at my found treasure. It was the blue coffee mug I used for more than 4,500 days since my first week at Calvary Christian Schools in July of 2000.

My wife  Julie bought it for me the week we moved to Michigan. One glance at its image and inscription and you’ll understand why she knew the then-new administrator of the Calvary Eagles needed it on his desk.
 

Isaiah 40:31 (ESV)

³¹ but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.

You all know the passage, but I’d like to share some thoughts about the first three verbs in that verse: wait, renew, and mount up.

Most translations imply that waiting is active not passive; it is doing not dreaming. In this sense, we wait not like restaurant patrons waiting for their meal but like the waiter who is “waiting on” tables. This kind of waiting is about service. Believers are those who wait upon the Lord with hope and expectation that what God says He will do. It is waiting in obedience to "occupy ‘til He comes." (Luke 19:13)

The second verb is renew. The promise that our strength can be renewed implies that it can also be depleted.  The truth is serving others can be exhausting. Some may ask, "What about the promise in the second part of the verse that says, 'They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Doesn’t that mean that we will never get tired while serving the Lord?"  I don’t think so. Even well-trained  runners are exhausted after “pressing on toward the mark.” (Philippians 3:13-15)  I don’t think the word weary implies physical exhaustion as much as complete mental or emotional fatigue. In other words, being weary is not being tired from what you’re doing—it is being tired of what you’re doing. Weary is a dangerous place to be; it is dark and pathless valley cluttered with quit and overshadowed by the bad decisions of centuries past.

It is for this reason the Apostle Paul encourages us not to “grow weary in well doing.” (Galatians 6:9)   He is not saying “Never tire yourself for a worthy cause" but rather "Never become tired of the cause." It is healthy to be spent at the end of a hard day or a hard week. Such tiredness is to be expected in service. It is why God created the seventh day to rest.  He knows we need recovery time... renewal time. Sometimes we need a change of pace.

This pattern of work and rest, anticipation and reward, is also implied in the second part of Isaiah 40:31. If you can’t run another mile, then walk instead, but don’t stop. Don’t faint. Regroup. Refocus… ReNEW your strength... then carry on. That is what  my coffee mug says. The verse implies a pattern of exertion and renewed strength.
 
This brings us to the third verb of Isaiah 40:31: mount up. The female bald eagle can have a 7’ wingspan and weigh up to sixteen pounds, the maximum legal weight of a bowling ball. She can also carry over four pounds of prey in her clenched talons. Assuming that circumstances have grounded an eagle, stopped it in its tracks, the most difficult part of flight is what Isaiah calls “mounting up with wings.” The hardest part is taking off, regaining momentum.

Mounting up, and up in search of the wind or an updraft takes non-stop effort—it is more grueling than graceful. There is a big difference between “mounting up with wings” and soaring. To the observer, it’s  like the Olympic contrast between watching the 200 meter butterfly in a churning pool and a 700 ‘ ski jump from a snowy slope.

There are over 7,200 feathers on a bald eagle, the largest being those used for lift and thrust on the wings and maneuvering on the tail. Imagine the strength it takes to power those 7’ wings and raise the weight of a bowling ball to altitudes above 10,000 feet (over two miles up in the sky). Our favorite pictures of eagles show them soaring at that height. Wings outstretched in effortless flight—like that poster behind the coffee mug above or this one below.
From high in the air an eagle can swoop down at 35 MPH, and use the speed to regain its former altitude. As Newton put it,“A body in motion tends to stay in motion.” But from ground level… from a stand-still… “mounting up with wings like eagles” is hard work, but the hope of soaring gives strength to weary wings. Someday we may share more of the details of lessons learned and God's provision in those six months that my mug went missing, but for now let us take Isaiah 40:31 to heart. We have soared and will soon soar again, but for six months we have been in the hard-work phase. Never have so many supporters been doing so much for Calvary Christian Schools. We are waiting on the Lord, but not idly waiting. We are fully occupied, serving Him with hope and anticipation. We will not grow weary of the effort but when we need to catch our breath,  we will change our pace, renew our strength, and not faint. We will press upward toward our high calling and will give Him the glory when in HIs time we soar.

With that in mind, let us turn our thoughts from the little mug on my desk toward much bigger things.

On behalf of the School Board, staff,  consultants and many supporters now assisting CCS, allow me to give you a sneak preview of  a billboard that you will soon see at two locations on the main highways near our school:

Tom Kapanka, CCS Administrator

It was a Wonderful Night!

Last in our Christmas Concert's opening remarks, I mentioned Frank Capra's Christmas classic, It's a Wonderful Life. I had a large woven laundry basket in my hands and described the last scene of that movie when all the neighbors come into the living room of the Bailey home with a laundry basket full of collected money for a friend in need.

 

 

After explaining our "Under One Roof" project (bringing all classrooms into the main building over Christmas Break) and the stated goal of $3,000 to cover related costs, I said, "If we fall short of our goal, I'll not get up and take another offering, but I will set this laundry basket over here on the stage, and if you'd like to give more, we will greatly appreciate it." We prayed and the ushers passed smaller versions of the laundry basket through the rows of family and friends.

 

I'll not go into detail here, but we did not need to put the laundry basket back on the stage at the end of the program. After counting the offering, it was full and running over with cash offerings triple their normal amount from years past and a total far more than DOUBLE the ambitious stated goal.

 

Imagine with me that the picture below of over 600 "neighbors" is not in Bedford Falls, NY but in Fruitport, MI, gathered not at George Bailey's home but in the living room of our school with standing room only in the back. It was by far the best-attended Christmas program in the history of our school, and the fellowship before and after was very much like the closing scene of that 1946 film. It was a wonderful night in the wonderful life we all share at CCS.

 

 

Our annual Christmas concert is full of traditions. For instance, the band plays "Sleigh Ride" each year and invites alumni and alumni parents to come up with their instruments and join in that iconic song. This year there seemed to be more "joiners" than ever, packing the stage.

Then at the end of the program, a new tradition began: the high school choir had about 20 alumni, parents and teachers join them in singing the Hallelujah Chorus. I was one of the adults singing with them, and at the end as we closed with a congregational song, I could not resist taking the first picture above of this festive gathering. Mrs. Andrea Masvero took the reverse-angle below.

As we all sang last night, "We give Him all the glory!" and we thank all those who gave in this special offering which will pay for facility repairs/upgrades, 4 additional security cameras (to add to our 16 already in place), and improvements associated with our "Under One Roof" Project to be completed in the weeks ahead. Please continue to pray that the broader financial goals stated in the 2012 Annual Fund Letter will also be met through unprecedented philanthropic support.

CCS is a 501(c)(3) non-profit educational organization. All gifts are fully tax deductible..

On behalf of our students and staff, let me say thank you to all who are a part of this ongoing effort, generous giving, and uplifting prayer for Calvary Christian Schools.

Have a very Merry Christmas!
Tom Kapanka
 



If you've never seen the full movie "It's a Wonderful Life" below is the public domain version:

In Memory of Mrs. Lynne Meyer

Something Short of Sorrow

The hurt that comes while heartache heals
is something short of sorrow,
something short of how it feels
to weep and wonder if tomorrow
holds any semblance of today.
It falls short of the grief we know
when loved-ones pass away
and patted earth is covered by snow,
short of the loss that’s shared
when hope or love’s let go
and all around us are prepared
to reap the joy we’re told tears sow.
Heartache settles deep inside
where no one sees or knows
save one who peers… eyes wide
in yours… until it goes.
© Tom Kapanka, April 28, 2012

 "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy."

  Psalm 126:5 (KJV)

I wrote the lines above last April, never knowing that we as a school family we would experience the heartache of this week as we learned that our friend and fellow teacher was so suddenly gone. For three years, Lynne Meyer graced our halls and blessed our students with boundless energy, optimism, a "can do" spirit, love for the Lord and her family, and a smile and laugh that will never be forgotten. Her life reflected the answer of the two-word question posed in the video below...

The First Green Thing

I have been teaching British Literature to our 11th and 12th grade the past four weeks. In my early teaching career, I taught British Literature for 15 consecutive years, and this was my first extended teaching experience in equally as many years.  I have really enjoyed it, and half-suspect the students did, too. Last week, as a segue between Shakespeare and Golding,  I used the following poem to introduce the concept of man's fallen nature befoe beginning Lord of the Flies.  

This post will be on top here at "To Begin With" for a few weeks in hopes that you may find a variety of thoughts in the links (click on red text words) below the poem appropriate for this Lenten Season.

"The First Green Thing"

The first green thing

I saw that spring

was not a hyssop sprig,

not a trillium leaf along the trail,

nor the bourgeoning twig

of ivy on a crossed split rail.

No, before I’d seen a

sign of things to come along the path,

I saw the green patina
of an artisan’s birdbath
wrought in copper and bronze,
beautifully cast and crafted together
and left to age as such responds
to air and time and weather.

It was meant for a garden, no doubt,
but was now cast off and left out
where wooded rains o'erflowed beneath
to its streaked and verdant stand.
The basin was a laurel wreath
held high in a triumphant hand;
the base a sinnewed arm trapped
in the earth and further bound by a briar
that rose from the soil, wrapped
around the outstretched limb and higher

as if to draw the eye

to things above and intertwine

the bowl's reflection of the sky

and laurel wreath in its thorny vine.

This overgrown and tarnished glory

seemed the preface to a story

told without a word...

and forever fixed in time.
For when my curious fingers stirred
the water, I felt the stagnant slime
hid just below the rippling blue.
And wafting from a putrid maché

of blackened leaves and acorns split in two
came the septic stench of sewage and decay,
this the incense offered by the brazen hand

that could not feel the thorns at all

or see that they were rooted near the stand

in the cold and rotting remnants of the fall.

© Copyright 2010, Tom Kapanka

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If I were a sculptor, I’d like to make a birdbath like the one I attempt to depict in this poem. I'd cast a strong arm in bronze that rises from the ground holding a laurel wreath as if it were being placed on the head of the person looking in the water’s reflection. And then, if natural thorns did not grow to ensnare my work, I would craft a vine of thorns to do as those in the poem did so that, rather than man's praise around the onlooker's head, he would see something more like a crown of thorns.

Since ancient times, long before the time of Christ, the laurel wreath was the traditional prize for athletic victors. It was also worn by people in power like Caesar and members of the Roman Senate. Using a natural plant to make a crown was a well-known practice in the time of Christ, which is why I think planting the crown of thorns on our Savior’s head was much more than a brutal act; it was meant to be a mockery. (As depicted in the 14th Century woodcarving below.) Little did the brutes know that the thorns, being a result and symbol of Eden's curse, only added to the full meaning of the cross. Christ who knew no sin bore the curse for us. "Cursed is He who hangs upon a tree."

Just as the laurel wreath suggested honor, the crown of thorns was  as shameful in meaning as it was painful to the brow. That is why the image in the poem allows the thorns to overtake the wreath. Man’s image of himself is one of strength and self-determination, like the sinnewed arm raised high in victory, but in truth, fallen man is more worthy of thorns than laurel wreaths. In contrast to the practice of the incense offering, the prophet  Isaiah 64:6 reminds us that our sin makes whatever self-righteousness we "offer" to God akin to filthy rags; left to our own merits, our fate is shared with fallen leaves. The apostle Paul speaks of man's proud works as smelly rubbish.

All around we see both beauty and brokenness. We are blessed to see God's creation but cursed to know it is not as it once was. In the still water of this imaginary birdbath, for instance, we briefly see the sky, but just an inch below its reflection is the stench of rotting leaves and seeds left over from the fall. This image is very real to me.

In our backyard, we have a birdbath and other small fountains, and often in the spring when I go to clean out all the junk that fell in them before winter, there is a smell much like the smell of sewage that comes from the decay in the shallow water. By then, whatever leaves gathered there are not colorful like the ones in the picture below but blackened and matted together. Those are maple leaves, but we also have huge oaks in our yard, and the squirrels break the acorns and drop them below to mix in with all the other rotting things.

“The cold and rotting remnants of the fall,” however, is not referring to the season of autumn but rather the fall of man. As beautiful as the reflection of the sky is, as wondrous as the hope of things to come may be, there is that decay of death just below the surface; there are those thorns strangling out the glory that was meant to be.

There lies the beauty of spring that comes with Easter. The hyssop sprigs eventually show; the trilliums begin to grow, and all the beauty that was Eden surrounds us in signs of life along the path. The first green things appeared in a perfect place, Eden, and likewise the green thing I saw in the poem, though of man’s making, "was meant for a garden, no doubt, but now cast off and left out." True, it was green, but the patina that comes from the oxidation of copper and bronze is a muted hue compared to the first green things of creation. And what were some of those green things mentioned?

The hyssop is native to eastern Mediterranean lands but was purposely brought to the western continents where it now flourishes. Along with the laurel, its meaning and many uses have been known since ancient times. Psalm 51:7 says, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”

Hyssop is known for its cleansing power and ritual use. It is also aromatic—in the mint family. The Gospel of John says that it was on a long woody stem of hyssop that the soldier offered wine vinegar to Christ at his crucifixion when he said “I thirst.” I do not now why that detail is mentioned. It may have been additional mockery by those who had just pronounced him "King of the Jews," but regardless of the motive, the use of hyssop made a vivid link between the first Passover and the ultimate sacrificial moment in history.
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The trillium grows across North America, it was popularly voted the state wild flower of Michigan (but Lansing overruled). It is known for its mathematical design of displaying three leaves, three sepals, and three petals, all of which have been used in Christian circles as a picture of the mystery of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—united in  purpose though distinct in personality. It is in the lily family (tri=three lily), a perennial that bursts from the ground and shows leaf each year around Easter (but typically blooms in late April and May). Sometimes called a "wake-robin," the trillium flower was used by Native Americans as an antiseptic. This flower is also called birthroot based on other medicinal uses.

Ivy is a non-deciduous evergreen plant. We typically think of Christmas trees and conifers as evergreens, but holly and ivy and many other plants remain green year-round; they do not lose their leaves in the fall and thereby show the continuity of life in spite of all that changes around them. Ivy survives the harsh winter and resumes its spreading, clinging coverage on stationary things in the spring and summer. We have some split rail fence covered in ivy in our yard, but I included it to evoke the image of hewn wood as is also true of the cross.

Thus in the opening stanza, the brief mention of these green things—the hyssop, trillium, and ivy—(yet unseen along the path) foreshadow the significance of "the first green thing" I did see: the patina of the copper birdbath with its stench of the rotting leaves. The story may be "forever fixed in time," but it is corrected when time as we know it is no more. Ending as it does, the poem gives hope that, for those who believe, the green things foreshadowed in the beginning—cleansing hyssop, the covering ivy, and the symbolic trillium—will triumph over the remnants of the fall.

"When My World is Shaking..."

There is a little room on the upper floor of our house that used to be Natalie's. It's the smallest bedroom in the house, but she is our youngest, and for about eight years that was the place she called her own.

When Emily married a few years back, Kim moved down to Emily's bigger room, and Natalie moved into Kim's bigger room, and the little room became what Julie calls her cozy sitting room. It has a big over-stuffed reading chair and ottoman that together are so comfortable I sometimes fall asleep there with an open book on my chest. There is also a long narrow Jenny Lind feather-bed dating back to 1800's which is great for naps.

This afternoon, in that little room, Natalie was sitting on the edge of that antique bed playing a song on her sister's guitar. I had never heard the song before, and hearing her voice through the closed door gave it a soft, earnest tone. I listened to the words, I knew why she had decided to learn it while most of the rest of the world had their mind on the Super Bowl. I peeked in and told her how nice it sounded. Then I asked her if I could videotape her singing it. She said "no" of course, but before she went to bed, she showed me this and I uploaded it to Youtube. She just shot it with her lap-top's camera and mike.
(I mention that because the image is reversed. She is not left handed.)



I have unanswered prayers
I have trouble I wish wasn't there
And I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away
That You would take my pain away

I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crookedly lie
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

When You walked upon the Earth
You healed the broken, lost, and hurt
I know You hate to see me cry
One day You will set all things right
Yea, one day You will set all things right

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands...

Thanks, Natalie

Then Came the Dawn

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Then came the dawn
of changing times
of shifting winds and paradigms
when all but gone
was memory
of how we lived and used to be.

It was the year
that some foretold
on scribbled stone in days of old
“Sit now and fear.
For all your days
will fade in this galactic haze.”

It was the year
that others told
to those in other days of old:
“Sit now in fear
and trembling still.
Work out your faith as is His will.

"For it is not
the task of man
to set or see the sovereign plan
nor then to plot,
according to........................................................ Mayan calendar in stone
the flesh, what he in turn will do.

"‘Tis all, alas!
what’s meant to be
and though it seems a tragedy,
This, too, shall pass,
and in the end,
bring hope as sun and moon descend.”

Then came the dawn
of changing times
of shifting winds and paradigms
when all but gone
was any fear
of what might happen in that year.
© Copyright 2012 Tom Kapanka

In case you didn't know it, the year of our Lord 2012, according to some mystics, is going to change (or end) our lives. Spend some time reading this Wikipedia article and you'll get the general idea. It opens by saying, "... Many contemporary fictional references to the year 2012 refer to December 21 as the day of a cataclysmic event…” That article closes by citing many cultural references to this phenomenon, including this note for tourists:
.
"In 2011, the Mexico tourism board stated its intentions to use the year 2012, without its apocalyptic connotations, as a means to revive Mexico's tourism industry.... The initiative hopes to draw on the mystical appeal of the Mayan ruins. On December 21, 2011, the Mayan town of Tapachula in Chiapas activated an eight-foot digital clock counting down the days until b'ak'tun 13 [December 22, 2012]."
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We at CCS do not ascribe to any "Dooms Day" prophecies that set dates--especially from pagan sources. Consider the paragraphs above a primer for trivial conversations about the "2012 phenomenon."

I don't mean to trivialize, however, the importance of this year for our school.

In the weeks and months ahead, the School Board will be updating our school family about the transition to an independence as well as the continuity of the most important aspects or our Christian school program. The school board, administration, teachers and nearly everyone else involved agree that the new independent paradigm will help ensure the future of an inviting, growing evangelical K-12 CCS for west Michigan.

Note about the writing process: The short poem above uses medial rhyme (as seen in "Summer Road") and a variation on alternating tetrameter and dimeter lines (eight-count and four-count) (as seen in "My Father's Hands"). But these lines follow a 4-4-8 count, medial rhyme while including a pattern of initial rhymes (the first word of the 1st and 4th lines of each stanza). Sometimes incorporating that much form in poetry hinders the function. Here are the same words in prose form with links for further understanding. [Click on red text below to go to links.]
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Then came the dawn of changing times of shifting winds and paradigms when all but gone was memory of how we lived and used to be.It was the year that some foretold on scribbled stone in days of old: “Sit now and fear. For all your days will fade in this galactic haze.”It was the year that others told to those in other days of old: “Sit now in fear and trembling still. Work out your faith as is His will. For it is not the task of man to set or see the sovereign plan nor then to plot, according to the flesh, what he in turn will do. ‘Tis all, alas! what’s meant to be, and though it seems a tragedy, This, too, shall pass, and in the end, bring hope as sun and moon descend.” Then came the dawn of changing times of shifting winds and paradigms when all but gone was any fear of what might happen in that year.

Snow at Last!

In Between...

.

How drab the days
when fallen leaves
blow to and russet fro
and likewise later
melting March
without a bud to show.
The variegated leaf,
the frozen river’s flow...
at last the empty
in between
is covered by the snow.
© Copyright 2007, Tom Kapanka


I don't know about you, but the fall of 2011 seemed very long for many reasons. I've heard many of our CCS family and friends say it was because we had no measurable snow in November or December. I agree. Only in songs was our Christmas white. Not until New Year's Day did real snow arrive. I'm glad to see the dingy grays of autumn gone.

Michiganders are four-season folks who aren't afraid of change, but we sometimes feel forlorn in the months when we stand in between what was and what's to come.  

As 2012 begins, it's good to be surrounded by a huge blank slate of snow, with shovels in hand, to clear the way for where we need to go. Like never before this winter will be a time to work and watch and pray and wait for God's wonder to bloom in the spring.

What a Wonderful Christmas Concert

A friend of mine sent me this picture from his camera-phone tonight. It does not include the full section to the right of the stage. It was a full-house, and a wonderful concert that reflected the joy and meaning of  Christmas.  We had to set up an additional 100 chairs, and there still dozens of people standing along the back wall and entrances.

The bands and choirs of all ages did an outstanding job. I must admit, my eyes watered at the last song, when after singing "Silent Night" as a congregation along with nearly 80 MS and HS students who were also singing in sign language, the choir signed the last verse again in a room so quiet it brought new meaning to the last line "...sleep in heavenly peace."  Well done, Students! Well done, Teachers and all who made tonight possible!

One of the most wonderful things about this event is that there are always hundreds of grandparents in attendance. I met several for the first time. I also met a grandmother whose husband was on the school board when I first came to CCS back in 2000. I visited with a grandmother who served on the school board for several years. Earlier today, she was wrapping Christmas presents at the bazaar. This afternoon, I visited with a grandfather who came to the rehearsal because he could not be at the concert tonight. After the concert,  I met a grandfather who drove up from Indiana. He and a number of other grandparents stopped me to specifically say they are praying for Calvary Christian Schools and that they're so glad this school is here for their family. 

In a few days, my own family will be with grandparents in Kansas (Julie's parents), and I can't tell you what a blessing they have been in our lives. I'm looking forward to being with them. 

If you read this post over the holidays, and if you're visiting with the grandparents in you life, please share the following poem with them, and please let them know we appreciate the vital role they play in our student's lives.

Three Generations

It takes two generations

to bring along the third
for the echo of truth
is sometimes heard
more clearly than
the words first spoken.
A cord of three strands
is less likely broken
than one or two,
and perhaps equally strong
is a chord of voices
intent to pass along
what matters most
from age to age.
The older voice can gently lead
and help confirm the page
the father reads
is worth the ink
and worthy indeed

to make man think

beyond his lifetime.

The family tree, it’s true, will grow

new limbs and leaves of green,

but the aging trunk that holds them

is held by roots unseen.

Some say "it takes a village,"

but more often than is heard,

it takes two generations

to bring along the third.

© 2007 Tom Kapanka

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A Spirit Not of Fear...

I heard this song for the first time about a year ago. It is a great reminder that courage is not the absense of fear but the ability to press on in spite of our fears. Or as the apostle Paul told young Timothy:  ^"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." II Timothy 1:7  The NIV says, "the...does not make us timid, and the ESV implies that "a sound mind" is demonstrated through "self-control." But the point Paul makes to Timothy is God means for us to have courage in Him so that fear does not cause panic (or unsound thoughts or wreckless actions).

As Christians, when we DIScourage people, intentionally or unintentionally, we sap them of courage and the sense that, with God's help, they can reach their goals. When we ENcourage one another we  inspire hope and confidence to press on knowing that our Hevenly Father goes before us. I love the way these thoughts were put to music in a song called "Pioneer." (lyrics below the screen).


6089

Pioneer, Pioneer

Keep pressing onwards beyond your fears

And only your Father goes before you to your own frontier

Youʼre a Pioneer

 Uncharted wilderness stretches before you

And you thrive on going where no one has gone

Still it gets lonely when darkness rears

So sing by the fire until the dawn

[Chorus]

You travel light and you travel alone

And when you arrive nobody knows

But your Father in heaven, He is glad you can go

Cause those who come after you will need the road

[Chorus]

And what you have done, others will do

Bigger and better and faster than you

But you canʼt look back, you gotta keep on pressing through

Thereʼs a wilderness pathway and itʼs calling you

 Calling you, calling you

Keep pressing onwards beyond your fears

And only your Father goes before you to your own frontier

Youʼre a Pioneer

Written by Nancy Honeytree Miller

Thoughts for Thanksgiving

At Grace

Sometimes…
it’s the little things
like putting in the extra leaf
and keeping window watch;
then taking covered dishes at the door;
and hugging through coats
that bring in winter’s air.
Staring fondly at the face
come furthest home;
laughing with the funny uncle
in the kitchen;
holding hands once large and small—
but ever more alike—
around the laden table;
and smiling at the changeless gaze
(framed on the far mantle)
of one not there to pray.
It’s the little things
that make Thanksgiving.
The tastes and smells
and long-awaited feast
at best are just
the garnish of the day.
It’s the enormity
of little things
providentially in place
that lumps our throats
and lifts our thoughts
…at grace.
© 2006, Tom Kapanka

Lord, we thank you for Calvary Christian Schools. We thank you for meeting our needs through the years and for the hope of continued blessing for years to come. We thank you for the folks at Calvary Church whose vision through the years provided a foundation for changing times and paradigms we now face; for the more than 120 homes in our school family; for the 45 new students who joined us this year (with another joining us next week); for the outward focus and service opportunities that have helped us earn the good-will and trust of our community; and for our faculty and staff whose steadfast service puts flesh and feet to God's Word in this place.
Praise God from Whom All Blessing Flow!
Wishing you and yours a wonderful sharing of thankful hearts this week.

Sadie Hawkins is This Friday

See Update at end of this post:
About ten years ago, CCS started the Sadie Hawkins Party tradition. For some it is a "reverse courtesy" event to which the girl can ask the boy. But for many of our students it's just a great "group of friends" event with a special theme. Last year was "Night at the Museum" (click on that title for more details). Six years ago it was a hoe-down in a barn. One year it was "South of the Border." This year, the theme is "Back to the '50s." So there will be lots of poodle skirts, penny loafers, greased hair, etc. The night includes dining at the very retro "Dog and Suds" drive in on Old Grand Haven Road. We've got the whole place to ourselves.

This is not the first time we've gone with a "Fifties" theme. The last time we did, I blogged about it the next morning, and the headline read:

My Wife Got Pulled Over for Drunk Driving Last Night!
Here's part of that post from 2007:

We'd been partying all night, it's true. Doing crazy things that, frankly, people our age rarely have the energy to try. We felt like a couple of teenagers again and stayed out way too late. It was about 1:15AM, to be exact. It was fun, but we were worn out. As always, we were the last to leave. Lights out. Doors locked. All we had to do was drive safely home.

Julie and I were in separate cars. [Natalie was in 7th grade at the time and had been staying at a friend's house. Julie stopped by to pick her up. She had fallen asleep on the couch and just piled into the front seat bundled in PJ, a winter coat, and a knit stocking cap with flaps with her knees up on the dashboard.] I was a few minutes ahead of Julie on the road home when she called me on my cell phone.

"Hey, Tom, you might want to come back here. I just got pulled over."
"By a cop?" I asked, as if "pulled over" has many cultural nuances.
"I think so." she whispered.
"You think it's a cop? Why did you stop if you're not sure it's a cop?"
"I'm pretty sure... I mean there are red and blue lights going around and I'm squinting in the rearview mirror because his lights are shining so bright at the car, but I'm going to stay on the phone until I see his badge. Here he comes."
I heard the window roll down. Julie was first to speak.
"Hello, Officer, is everything all right?"
"Ma'am, were you on your cell phone while I was following you?"
"No. I didn't even know you were back there until you turned on the siren-light thingy. Then I called my husband because you didn't come out of your car and it was making me nervous."
"Well, Ma'am, you make me nervous..." Click... Silence.
Julie had hung up her cell phone in the middle of the policeman's sentence. It was an attempt to look less suspicious. Julie has never gotten a ticket in her life--that's right... never. Not one. I knew that would definitely help her case.
Speaking of cases. Come to find out, "cases" was the problem-- the cases of empty brown bottles in the van’s rear window.  I had not stacked them high above the window line and that Julie had not been driving with all the inside van lights on. (She does that when she's driving a van late at night in case someone is in the car. She wants to see if she's going to get attacked from behind. That make sense =)
We had purchased six cases of IBC bottled root beer at Sam's Club for the Sadie Hawkins party as part of the whole "retro" atmosphere.
There was no school the next day, so the party was late by design with the last part being a big-screen Fifties movie, popcorn, and root beer floats back at the school. ANYWAY!.... After the party, Julie and I and the seniors cleaned up the gym, and I carried the cases of empty IBC Root Beer bottles out to our Astro van.
I enjoy knowing the history of cultural things. Did you know that a hundred years ago when pop was a drug store "soda fountain" item the brown bottles were used because light shortened the shelf life of their product? That's why  "retro" root beer brands go for that look.
As naive as this may sound, it did not occur to me that stacks of empty brown bottles in the back of a van after 1:00 in the morning might make a police officer think the vehicle is swerving a little more than it really was.
"Where are you coming from?" the policeman asked.
"A party." Julie said blankly.
"You better explain that..." Natalie muttered from under her coat and cap.
 The officer shined his flashlight on our 12-year-old daughter who looked like a kid-napped, homeless midget.
"Is that your child?" the officer asked.
Julie smiled and explained the whole evening right up to my loading the bottles in the van... and then her eyes lit up. "Oh, you saw the bottles in the back window. That's why you pulled me over, right?"
"They caught my eye, Ma'am--especially at this hour of the night. I could go the rest of my career and not hear an explanation so opposite from what I was thinking... but I need to see your license just the same."
He ran it and must have been impressed that a lady of... well... nearly my age (though she looks much younger--especially in a poodle skirt)... has never had a single ticket. He simply walked back to her window, handed her the license and said, "You have a good night, Ma'am."
I am very grateful for the men in blue who take no chances in such matters. There is nothing funny about people who drink and drive, but I’m sure he had a laugh telling the story (as I have telling it since!).

That officer was not the first man to be "won over" by Julie's disarming charm, calm smile, honest voice, and good clean livin'. I was, too...
nearly thirty years ago!


Originally written in 2007. We'll be more careful with the root beer bottles this time, but we're looking forward to another Sadie Hawkins!
Update 2011: Friday night's event was great poodle skirts, white socks, rolled-cuff jeans, saddle oxfords, and slicked back hair all around. We began with a scavenger hunt (Sophomore Class won), then ate at the very retro "Dog and Suds" (it looked like a scene from "Happy Days"),and then went ice skating (whole place to ourselves). There were some outstanding skaters as well as first-timers. (Kudos to Gage Berg for being an inspiration to us all!) And then back to the school for ice cream sundaes and trip back in time to Mayberry. Perhaps the truest reflection of the event was all the happy banter on Facebook the morning after. What a wonderful time of Friday night fun and fellowship for 50 Christian kids!

Closing Remarks at CCS National Honor Society Induction Ceremony 2011

Tonight was our our first-ever induction ceremony for NHS. I was there as a parent (Congratulations, Natalie!), but I was also asked by Mrs. Borgeson, the faculty advisor, to share some closing remarks as the school administrator. I had first written these thoughts a few years ago, and they seemed appropriate to share with this group of students, parents, and grandparents. Rather than read the piece, I thought I'd put the lines in video clip to see if the message could be of use to others beyond this evening.