I found myself in Atlanta again but four days after my last journey there. Unlike my prior journey, which was for entertainment and frivolity, this one was sacred and assumed several dimensions.
My involvement with an Atlanta-based charity now finds me transporting children from the Shriner’s Hospital in Greenville, SC to Atlanta to prepare for return journeys to their home countries. Childspring International has as its mission the finding of children in the dark corners of the earth who are in need of radical life-saving surgery. Perhaps one hundred children a year are brought to Atlanta and then sent on to hospitals and host families throughout the United States for treatment that will save their lives or give them a new face or reconstructed limbs that will give them a chance at normal lives.
So it was today that I found myself taking a six-year-old boy from Haiti and a sixteen year old girl from the Philippines to Childspring in preparation for their return home. Olwitch was happily running around on his new feet. He will return to Haiti sans the wheelchair that has been a necessary part of his young life. Katrina will return to Manila and able to stand tall with her friends after having a severe scoliosis of her spine corrected.
Perhaps the most popular subject for artists throughout time has been the human face. The children at Childspring experience art of the highest order. Many of our children have fallen into cook fires in the developing world and had their faces burned away. Surgeons perform artistry on these children and create astonishing results that will rival anything painted by Rembrandt or Renoir or created in the dimness of antiquity. I stared with rapt attention at several pairs of before and after photos of children that have recently been given radiant new faces by dedicated plastic surgeons. Even though Olwitch and Katrina did not have their faces operated on, their faces were transformed by radiant smiles, knowing they would return home able to walk and stand tall.
After saying farewell to Olwitch and Katrina I found myself in the afternoon looking into a small blue face made of copper. Six thousand years of time elapsed since that face was created and I looked at it with focused attention. For an hour I viewed faces from the earliest reaches of recorded history. The Childspring offices happen to be across the street from a very large complex of buildings forming a great art museum. When I went across the street I also went across six millenniums. The High Museum was hosting an exhibition of antiquities from the Louvre in Paris. It was in the museum that I realized some things never change. Smiling faces are indeed our favorite subjects to apply our artistic talents to. One only has to think of the popularity of the Mona Lisa with its enigmatic smile in the Louvre or of the small copper face from 240 generations ago that was looking back at me through the glass today, or of the faces transformed by the modern miracle of reconstructive surgery.
Another thing that never changes is God’s love of Children. Just ask Olwitch or Katrina about that.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
An Urban Outing - Atlanta
Living in a small semi-rural town with the pastures but a half-mile away makes for a calmer more serene way of life. Yet, for one having lived in Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and several other large cities there can be a longing for the stimulation and excitement of the big city. They tend to be grand places bursting forth with life. So it was I headed west.
One day this week was given to a journey to Atlanta to see a matinee comedy production called “Menopause: The Musical.” This proved to be clearly a ‘chick’ production as there were about six men in the audience of four hundred. Yet, I found it rather entertaining. I have a secret enjoyment of chick flicks and a not so secret enjoyment of women in general so it was rather easy to participate in this outing. The play was extremely funny and well-done and rather high energy. The lead actress (a statuesque blonde) came on our bus following the play and made pictures with some of our group. She then planted a fine set of lipstick imprints on my forehead. Others on the bus suggested I might not want to wash my face for the next month. I tended to agree. I had garnered quite a trophy on my journey to the big city.
About forty-five were on the bus and I had the happy circumstance of sitting with a good friend coming and going from South Carolina and during lunch. She is a rather well grounded person and I found her very honest and helpful in her conversations about dealing with her big life challenges. It was the first time we have really had extended one-on-one conversation. Our conversations in the past were always in the context of volunteer work with a lot of people in our midst. We had four hours to talk.
The group enjoyed a fine meal at the Madison Grill. The service was prompt and attentive. A busload of forty-five did not faze the wait staff. I had a fine salmon Caesar salad and several pieces of truly decadent chocolate sin. The other women at my table insisted they could not eat their delights. I made sure there was no plate waste.
The climate was idyllic and nearly expansive. The breezes and sun and newly budding trees were signals that spring is very close now. We go to daylight savings next week and the evenings will suddenly be light and fresh. The dark cold evenings of winter will be nearly forgotten.
One day this week was given to a journey to Atlanta to see a matinee comedy production called “Menopause: The Musical.” This proved to be clearly a ‘chick’ production as there were about six men in the audience of four hundred. Yet, I found it rather entertaining. I have a secret enjoyment of chick flicks and a not so secret enjoyment of women in general so it was rather easy to participate in this outing. The play was extremely funny and well-done and rather high energy. The lead actress (a statuesque blonde) came on our bus following the play and made pictures with some of our group. She then planted a fine set of lipstick imprints on my forehead. Others on the bus suggested I might not want to wash my face for the next month. I tended to agree. I had garnered quite a trophy on my journey to the big city.
About forty-five were on the bus and I had the happy circumstance of sitting with a good friend coming and going from South Carolina and during lunch. She is a rather well grounded person and I found her very honest and helpful in her conversations about dealing with her big life challenges. It was the first time we have really had extended one-on-one conversation. Our conversations in the past were always in the context of volunteer work with a lot of people in our midst. We had four hours to talk.
The group enjoyed a fine meal at the Madison Grill. The service was prompt and attentive. A busload of forty-five did not faze the wait staff. I had a fine salmon Caesar salad and several pieces of truly decadent chocolate sin. The other women at my table insisted they could not eat their delights. I made sure there was no plate waste.
The climate was idyllic and nearly expansive. The breezes and sun and newly budding trees were signals that spring is very close now. We go to daylight savings next week and the evenings will suddenly be light and fresh. The dark cold evenings of winter will be nearly forgotten.
Coastal Visions - Charleston
Living in South Carolina has its distinct advantages. We have four seasons of climate change each year without the temperature extremes other areas have. One nice snow fell January 16th and allowed me to have a magical setting for a theater party. The snow was gone the next morning. South Carolina has what is known as the fresh water coast – a necklace of large lakes extending all the way down the southwestern border of the state. Of course, we have a salt-water coast with a grand necklace of islands and salt marshes. It was in this part of the world I found myself during the weekend – to experience a little bit of Heaven.
After 270 miles of driving in rain accreting from dense cloud, I arrived at Seabrook Island south of Charleston for a three-day men’s retreat. The five hours of travel time was used as a mini-retreat, listening to four CD’s on the merits of prayer as a way to relieve one’s life of complete chaos. The drive was quite uneventful and stress-free. A good omen for the weekend was a complete cessation of the rain during the time I was unloading all of my things from the car and carrying them to a weathered gray cabin on the sand. This retreat center has provided me with many a happy memory in years past and this year was no different. Saturday proved bucolic –74 degrees and clear. Sunday was much the same.
During dinner our first night we enjoyed grouper and shrimp. A five star chef gave up an immensely lucrative career as an executive chef in a hotel in order to have a ministry of feeding top quality food to those that come for retreats and camp experiences. All of our meals were quite opulent and served on linen. Our times were seasoned with stimulating conversation. My table ended up with several pilots who shared their intriguing stories.
There is nothing like being with 160 men in a serene coastal setting who are really seeking to improve their lives and the lives of those they love. These men gathered from several states to hear topical presentations on how to experience the sovereignty of God in the sometimes severe challenges of daily life. We all left after three days rather inspired and well fed in body, mind and spirit. Upon my return home Sunday night I was invited to join a dozen others in a local eatery for another fine repast.
Life was good this weekend
After 270 miles of driving in rain accreting from dense cloud, I arrived at Seabrook Island south of Charleston for a three-day men’s retreat. The five hours of travel time was used as a mini-retreat, listening to four CD’s on the merits of prayer as a way to relieve one’s life of complete chaos. The drive was quite uneventful and stress-free. A good omen for the weekend was a complete cessation of the rain during the time I was unloading all of my things from the car and carrying them to a weathered gray cabin on the sand. This retreat center has provided me with many a happy memory in years past and this year was no different. Saturday proved bucolic –74 degrees and clear. Sunday was much the same.
During dinner our first night we enjoyed grouper and shrimp. A five star chef gave up an immensely lucrative career as an executive chef in a hotel in order to have a ministry of feeding top quality food to those that come for retreats and camp experiences. All of our meals were quite opulent and served on linen. Our times were seasoned with stimulating conversation. My table ended up with several pilots who shared their intriguing stories.
There is nothing like being with 160 men in a serene coastal setting who are really seeking to improve their lives and the lives of those they love. These men gathered from several states to hear topical presentations on how to experience the sovereignty of God in the sometimes severe challenges of daily life. We all left after three days rather inspired and well fed in body, mind and spirit. Upon my return home Sunday night I was invited to join a dozen others in a local eatery for another fine repast.
Life was good this weekend
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
