Ten Years, Same Road

Sometimes a photo can express things far better than words.  Below is a photo taken 10 years ago at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp, where our girls have many happy memories.  This was taken when we went to pick our camper girls up from two weeks at camp.

And then, a photo taken just last Sunday, in the same spot, 10 years later.  Those campers have grown a bit.  Now the former camper on the right has graduated college, and the former camper on the left is a camp counselor, who will be in her sophomore year of college in the Fall.

Mere words cannot express the nostalgia and thankfulness I feel in viewing these two photos, taken a decade apart.

God has been so good to our family. 

Sure on this Shining Night - Composer Morten Lauridsen

Sure On This Shining Night

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far
alone
Of shadows on the stars.

Author Notes

The poem comes from a book by James Agee entitled "Permit Me Voyage" published 1934 by Yale University Press

Ring Them Bells - Sarah Jarosz

Its the first day of Summer, and the second day of my 55th year on the planet.  Lets ring them bells.....

Restore, Rebuild, Rebirth - An Interview with Larry Silverstein

I will always show you where to go.
    I’ll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
    firm muscles, strong bones.
You’ll be like a well-watered garden,
    a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
    rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You’ll be known as those who can fix anything,
    restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
    make the community livable again.

Isaiah 58:9-12

A Visit at Dusk
I was recently in New York City for a national conference related to my work.  I arrived in Manhattan around 6 PM on a Saturday evening, and after checking in at my hotel, immediately headed downtown to the World Trade Center Memorial site.  The last time I was in New York, about three years ago, I visited Ground Zero, looked into a massive gaping hole; full of tragedy and loss - and a massive construction site.  This time, something within me wanted to again experience this hallowed ground, now that the September 11 Memorial site had taken shape; a place that has seen over six million visitors since its opening in 2011.

As I arrived at the site at dusk in late April, I was moved by several things.  First, the sense of real reverence from my fellow visitors.  I heard languages from all over the world, and yet everyone was speaking quietly to one another, with a sense of honor for the sacred nature of the Memorial site.  The only other sound one experiences is the constant soft rush of water within the outlines of the building foundations that now serve as Memorials to the fallen.  I was entirely unprepared to understand the sheer numbers of those killed on that day who were first responders.  From my slow walk around the circumference of both pools, it seems that so many of those who died that day were fireman, police, and other public servants who rushed into the maelstrom.  I found this to be overwhelmingly sobering.  They ran into hell, hoping only to help or save others.

Rebuilding and Rebirth
During the opening morning of the conference, we in attendance had the rare privilege to listen to a story of one of the darkest moments in American history, and to hear a story of determination, resolve, and rebirth that is unique to New York, and captures something remarkable about the American spirit.

Larry Silverstein, now 83 year old, was the morning's speaker, and for almost an hour, he related the story of immense tragedy, loss, and his tireless efforts over the past 12 years to restore and rebuild the World Trade Center.  Silverstein Properties is the holder of the ground lease for the World Trade Center property, having closed on the transaction to acquire the leasehold within weeks prior to the tragic events of September 11, 2001.

During the hour discussion and question and answer period I was riveted by the profound sense of the magnitude of the events of September 2001, and by the dogged persistence of a man and a city that would not give up in spite of overwhelming odds, the paralysis of survivors guilt, pain, and the overwhelming sense of loss.  Silverstein Companies was located in the World Trade Center, and, as Mr. Silverstein related, the firm lost 4 employees in the attack from families with a total of 6 children.  By a twist of fate, Mr. Silverstein was not in the buildings on that fateful morning; as his schedule had him visiting his doctor.  

Mr. Silverstein was asked how he kept his optimism and managed to overcome the odds of ever rebuilding the site, given all the roadblocks and delays.  His answer was: 

"The events of September 11th were excruciatingly difficult.....they were horrendous.  I couldn't just sit in the paralysis of loss, and within two weeks we decided we would rebuild.  I told my people, go!  Get it done.  Move as quickly as you can.  Our mission to rebuild was absolutely essential.  We put our heads down and went like hell.  I have had a passion to create something better than before", and to "Show the world New Yorkers and Americans could and would come back."  He added that it is his hope that the rebuilt World Trade Center would be "A fitting tribute to those who died".  

Can the work of rebuilding mere office buildings be redemptive?  Is there lasting purpose in merely constructing something with steel and concrete? 

In closing, I invite you to take a few moments and watch this moving film about the rebuilding of the World Trade Center.

Moon Shot

Norris Backyard Harlem Shake

I have no explanation for this......

What is Real Beauty?

As a father of daughters, I find this short video to be uniquely moving and mysterious.  Our culture has done a lot of damage to young women via advertising false images of beauty. 

"Do you think you are more beautiful than you say?"  What a profound question.  Upon reflection, I think God is asking this of all of us.  Constantly.

To my girls, you are truly beautiful; deep in your souls.

Grace Before Sleep

I have recently stumbled upon a choral piece that is full of simple beauty, images of friendship, and thankfulness.  Sara Teasdale, the author, won the 1918 Pulitzer Prize for poetry.  Sadly, 15 years later, at the age of 49 her life ended by suicide.

Often our lives are like this, a mixture of great beauty and inexplicable pain.  The inverted message of Easter tells us that after great suffering there can come to us an unexplainable miracle.  This is the hopeful story I choose to believe.

Grace Before Sleep

How can our minds and bodies be

Grateful enough that we have spent

Here in this generous room, we three,

This evening of content?

Each one of us has walked through storm

And fled the wolves along the road;

But here the hearth is wide and warm,

And for this shelter and this light

Accept, O Lord, our thanks to-night.

Sara Teasdale

(1884-1933)

Composition by Susan Labarr

Here is a wonderful version from South Africa:

Pange Lingua Gloriosi, Proelium (Crux fidelis)

 









Faithful Cross
above all other,
one and only noble Tree!
None in foliage, none in blossom,
none in fruit thy peers may be;
sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
Sweetest Weight is hung on thee!

Lofty tree, bend down thy branches,
to embrace thy sacred load;
oh, relax the native tension
of that all too rigid wood;
gently, gently bear the members
of thy dying King and God. 

Tree, which solely wast found worthy
the world's Victim to sustain.
harbor from the raging tempest!
ark, that saved the world again!
Tree, with sacred blood anointed
of the Lamb for sinners slain.  

Blessing, honor, everlasting,
to the immortal Deity;
to the Father, Son, and Spirit,
equal praises ever be;
glory through the earth and heaven
to Trinity in Unity. Amen.
 

Sarah Jarosz & Alison Krauss - Run Away

This young lady has just become my new folk / bluegrass favorite.  Here she is performing with two of my all time favorites; Alison Krauss and Jerry Douglas.

 

The Best Super Bowl Commercial Ever

There was one super bowl commercial this year that caught me off guard; one that I found entirely moving and worthy of this great country we call home.

In the midst of all the ads written and produced for the lowest common denominator in American "culture", there was one that rose far above the crowd.  Among a sea of ads that cost $3.7 million dollars a minute for beer, and fast cars, and snack chips, and greasy web hosting sites, and body spray, and fast food, there was one commercial that really stood out all alone, all by itself.

It was a commercial that really mattered, and that celebrated the simple, hardworking folk in the middle part of our country that the rest of us coastal elites spend our lives flying over at 40,000 feet and 350 miles an hour.  I would argue that the values of these folks may be what makes our country endure.

This was the audio of a poem written and recited by famous radio broadcaster Paul Harvey at the 1978 Future Farmers of America, set to scenes of the American farmland and the farmers who work it.

This commercial made my day.  We should celebrate common ordinary dignified folks such as these:

Your Love is Strong

A View from the Top, and Our Lives Together

I thought it would be just a hike.  It turned out to be much more.

This past Saturday, I took our dog Ella on a  hike in the hills above Hollywood, just a couple of miles northeast of our church campus.  Just a chance to exercise myself and our faithful Labrador.  But it seems God had more in mind.  That morning hike turned out to be an epiphany of sorts for me.  As Pastor Dan is taking some time off, he asked me to share my hiking reflections with you.  You know Dan; that guy who is always reminding us to "pay attention".  I'm trying.


I had heard that the view from the end of our hike was really great, but I had no idea how good it would be last Saturday.  You remember, at the end of last week we had several drizzling, rainy days, grey and uneventful; the sort of days that find you in a kind of sad funk.  Saturday morning started out grey as well at our house.  As Ella and I left in the car, I wondered if we would have to turn around because of more rain. 

But as we started down the trail at around 10 AM, the clouds began to part, and we hiked out to a promontory point in Runyan Canyon Park.  They call it "Inspiration Point".  As we walked out to the peak of the trail, the clouds had parted, and the sun felt warm on my shoulders.  Even Ella seemed to pick up the pace.  This was a stunning day.  Amazing.  Blue of sky, white of clouds, almost too bright to take in, even with sunglasses on.  A distant and clear view to Long Beach, Palos Verdes, and the blue Pacific beyond.  The city of legend.  Breathtaking.  Enough to make you weep; at this beautiful place God allows us all to live in, to work in, and in which we share our lives together.

Below us lay an amazing expanse of Los Angeles.  From Griffith Park, to downtown, from Koreatown to Westwood.  The City of Angels.  Under the parting clouds and warming sun, lay the home to over 3.8 million souls.  At that very moment, I remembered the title words of author Anne Lamont in her most recent book, written on the subject of prayer...."Help.  Thanks.  Wow!"   

Not just landscape and buildings lay before us, not just offices, homes, apartments, and freeways and people rushing to and fro.  Below us lay a teaming sea of ..... life!  Millions of stories of triumph and pain, of great joy and deep sorrow.  Daily struggles, little victories.  Those without homes sleeping in the underpasses and those with homes so big they get lost inside of them.  Struggling single moms, teens trying to figure out how they fit in, elderly who live alone without someone to care for them.  So many stories, so many lives.  So much emotion below there in this city, if you were able to really understand it, to comprehend all its weight and breadth in a moment, you would drop to your knees, overwhelmed by its sheer power.  

And above us, all around us, a God who knows the names and stories and struggles and joys of every last one of all of those lives.  A Savior who longs to connect to every last person down here in this amazing, messy, confusing, unruly city.  How will He ever make that connection?

I think it's often easy to forget why we are here together at Hollywood Presbyterian. I know enough to sense that sometimes my view of the world is too small, too myopic, too self-absorbed.  We get involved in our little "church lives", and forget the bigger picture.  We can't find our perspective, and we loose track of our unique place in this big city, forgetting that our job is to love others, mostly those outside our church walls, in an entirely uncommon way.  To love in a way that points clearly to Jesus and the amazing, breathtaking and abundant life He spoke of.  This is a key part of our life together; to love well.

The image of that mountain top hike will be with me for a while now.  It won't let me go.  Now comes the hard part, the gritty part, the day-to-day part, the loving part.  Living it out.  Making a difference.  Connecting.  Making this big old city smaller, one friendship at a time.  Getting up everyday, and heading out the door, going to the office, or school, or a meeting, volunteering, or a coffee or lunch with a long time friend or a new acquaintance.  Loving people.  

"Help!"  Lord, we cannot do this church thing without your Spirit guiding us daily.  Please help us, we can't do this alone.  We need your mercy.

"Thanks" for what you have done in our church for the last century.  Give us energy, fill us with hope, make us into people who know how to really love others.  Thank you for your amazing grace.

"Wow!"  Why did you choose us, of all people, to be the ones to become part of this grand old church in such a wondrous place?  We are humbled.  We don't deserve such an amazing chance.  But please, make us somehow worthy of this incredible opportunity.

See you in church.  Grace & Peace,

Steve Norris

The Most Beautiful Gift

How was your day? No doubt, full of small problems of the First World.

Alright now. Stop. Take a moment and watch this. This is tangible proof that new life and joy can rise from the ashes of great and dark tragedy.

"......…..the most beautiful gift a person can give."

Rachel Beckwith's Mom Visits Ethiopia. from charity: water on Vimeo.

Sara Watkins - Take Up Your Spade

This is my favorite song of 2012:




Sun is up, a new day is before you
Sun is up, wake your sleepy soul
Sun is up, hold on to what is on
Take up your spade and break ground
[ Lyrics from: http://www.cloverlyrics.com/e86708-sara_watkins~take_up_your_spade_lyrics.html ]
Shake off your shoes,
Leave yesterday behind you
Shake off your shoes,
But forget now where you're been
Shake off your shoes
Forgive and be forgiven
Take up your spade and break ground

Give thanks, for all that you've been given
Give thanks, for who you can become
Give thanks, for each moment and every crumb
Take up your spade and break ground
Break ground, break ground, break ground.

Christmas on Bushnell Avenue, South Pasadena

Each year for the past decade or so, it has become a Christmas tradition for the homes on our street to light luminarias on Christmas Eve.

Although more recently seen as a form of secular Christmas decoration, the hope among many Christians, and in our home, is that these lights will guide the spirit of the Christ child to one's home.

And so, with the brilliant editorial help of younger daughter Heather, and the gorgeous composition and orchestration of John Williams, enjoy a moment on our street, our home base for the past 20 years.  May the spirit of the Christ child be with you each day of the New Year.

Downton Abbey and our Place in this World

Tonight marks the third season of the Downton Abbey series on PBS, and I am nearly beside my white, balding, middle-aged self with anticipation.

For those of you who have been living in a yurt in the Mojave desert for the past two years, Downton Abbey is a series of very well told fictional stories set at the beginning of the last century in Great Britain, filmed with great care and crafted with the highest excellence.  This is what story telling in film should be more about.

The series has generated critical acclaim, audience enthusiasm, and impressive ratings.  It has also garnered six Emmys and one Golden Globe, ending HBO’s dominance over the movies and miniseries category. Downton is ranked No. 3 in terms of overall audiences in all Masterpiece presentations since 1990, second only to The Buccaneers and Prime Suspect 2. It brought in a staggering average audience of 6.3 million viewers for its second season premiere on Jan. 8 and was the second-watched program at 9 p.m. on Super Bowl Sunday—a prime time coup for a period drama that airs on PBS, of all places.

This week, I caught a fascinating interview on NPR with the cast of Downton, and was struck by the thoughtfulness of Elizabeth Montgomery, who plays the role of Lady Grantham.  Here is the short transcript of the interview with NPR's David Green:

GREENE: I'm struck what you said right there. You said it's a world so different from our own world. I read something in the New York Times, a write-up describing things this way: "How perversely comforting to turn our attention to a world where you will die where you were born and where the heroes are the rare overachievers who work their way up to butler from footman." Why, Elizabeth, is this comforting, in some way, to, you know, people today?

MCGOVERN: I think because in today's world, we all live with the burden of feeling that anything is possible if we're only clever enough, smart enough, work hard enough, that we can achieve any fluctuation in rank in society, and that there is a small disappointment if, for whatever reason, you haven't managed to earn a fortune or succeed in some huge way that you thought you would as a young person. And, I mean, there's something, of course, marvelous about that. I mean, personally, I wouldn't change that for anything. I wouldn't go back to the old way. But I think there was a comfort for people, to a certain extent, in knowing this is their role. This is their place.

Imagine that; the "burden of feeling that anything is possible" if we're only clever enough, smart enough, or work hard enough".  As I listened to those words, I was struck that this is the problem that affects so many of us Americans.  After all, we won the Revolutionary War, settled our own Colonies, and then, to top it off we freed the slaves and won the West.  We can rise above our station in life.  Gosh darn it, we can do anything, right?

As life moves on, and I get a bit older, I am realizing that is not the way life works.  Many, if not most all of us, must at some point come to realize our station in life and learn to adapt to our surroundings.  No, you will not become the CEO of some multi-national corporation, nor will you end up winning the PGA Grand Slam - instead you must learn your purpose in middle management, and attempt to keep your golf handicap under 40.  Like those living downstairs at Gratham Manor, we must find purpose and meaning in the daily sacred of our little lives.

And Ms. McGovern's comment about "there was a comfort for people, to a certain extent, in knowing this is their role.  This is their place", struck me as well. 

Perhaps this is the reason I enjoy Downton Abbey so much - it points out the mystery of comfort in knowing your place in the world.  I think I might be still, in some small ways, struggling with accepting my place in the world.  While the plots often point out the hypocrisy of the upper class, they also speaks largely of deep character, dignity, selflessness and courage among all classes in society.  These are messages that will never grow tiring to me.

And so, tonight I will sit with my sweet wife of more than 24 years and enjoy a winter's eve hour of fine British drama, set in post World War II Great Britain.  Whilst watching the elegant costuming and pastoral English countryside, I will reflect on my station in life in this urban 21st century Southern California.  At evening's end, I will remember that tomorrow, as I rise and set out for work, I again have a chance to bring dignity, a bit of joy, and meaning to my workplace world.

And below, for you Mojave yurt dwellers, is a steroids version recap of Seasons 1 & 2 of Downton Abbey:

Watch Downton Abbey: Official Seasons 1 & 2 Recap on PBS. See more from Masterpiece.

Certain Things You Cannot Measure

I just stumbled upon this thoughtful article from an economist that reminds us why there are some things that are best left unmeasured.

On Being Santa

Santa with his most excellent helpers

This past weekend, I was gifted with the chance to become someone magical.  For two hours on a drizzly evening, I became Santa Claus.

With the aid of a big fluffy pillow around my middle, a bright and cheery costume from our Academy Award winning neighbor (Art Direction in 2010!), and three lovely female assistants (who happen to be related to me), I was magically transformed into a new man;  Pere Noel, Father Christmas, Sinter Klaas, Old Saint Nicholas.  Kris Kringle.

Santa awaits.

Apparently well liked.

The reason, you ask?  This was not a holiday meeting of sedate geriatrics, nor a collection of pre-schoolers, or a fund raiser for the Red Cross or the local Kiwanas club. 

I had been asked to become one of Santa's helpers for 50 or so rowdy, running-around, laughing, wild, awkward, noisy, wonderful and amazing middle school students.  This was the Christmas event for Young Life Wyldlife in our neighborhood.

To add more fun to the mix, a large quantity of artificial snow had been prepared.  I was seated in the midst of this classically Southern California winter scene, where I cheerfully greeted all the kids as they were lead to the tennis court to be surprised by Santa.

There is nothing quite like being center of attention in the midst of a tennis court full of middle schoolers.  These kids found the ultimate joy in dumping artificial semi-wet plastic snow on the head, into the mouth of, and down the flowing beard of Saint Nick.  Did I mention that artificial snow has all the taste appeal of microscopically shredded plastic trash bags?  Add to this the wonderful attic musty smell of artificial Santa beard sticking in your teeth.  One other item - it turns out the application of artificial plastic snow to a concrete tennis court surface yields the most slimy and slippery surface in the known world.  Santa is very lucky that he did not end up in traction.  It was all pure joy!
 
The highlight of the evening was when all the kids surrounded Santa's chair, depriving him of precious oxygen, in order to receive gifts and candy.  To say that this scene resembled pandemonium would be an understatement. 

However, in the midst of this raucous bunch was a lone 6th grade boy who managed to work his way to the front of the large crowd, in spite of his smaller stature.  Let's call him Jeff.  He had a gift for me I never expected.  Jeff was determined to be in the front row to greet Santa, as evidenced by his skill at elbowing his peers out of the way in order to get front and center with the Big Man (me).  Upon arrival about 18 inches in front of my face - he leaned in and announced, shouting with great passion, "I BELIEVE IN YOU!  NO MATTER WHAT ANYONE SAYS, I BELIEVE IN YOU, SANTA!!"

That is what Christmastide is all about.  It's what Young Life is all about.  Believing.  Believing in kids, no matter how loud and confused and awkward they may seem.  Young Life leaders try to listen to these kids, love them, and believe in them.  And in doing so, it our hope that these kids, the messy, noisy ones on that tennis court, will come to believe in a God who created them, and believes in their futures.  Each and every one.

Merry Christmas to all.  And to all a good night!

Norris Family Christmas Update for 2012

Celebrating Heather's graduation with family and friends - June 2012

“He went to the church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted the children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of homes, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed of any walk, that anything, could give him so much happiness. ”

“For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child Himself.”

― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Cheers and Merry Christmas from the Norris Family!  It’s time again to mark another year, and remember the sad and the joyful, the gains and the losses along the way.  But with God’s hope on our side, the landscape looks completely different, as it did that Christmas day long ago to an awakened and reborn Ebenezer Scrooge. 

A Senior and a Freshman 

Kelly is now a Senior at DePaul University in Chicago.  Kelly is looking forward to her last 6 months of college, having just returned from yet another adventure, this time to Honduras.  While there, she spent a week volunteering at the Nuevo Paraiso orphanage and school.  For Christmas, we are considering the purchase of a t-shirt for her that will read “I Don’t Know Yet”, which should serve to defuse the questions she constantly receives about her post-college future from all the grown-ups she knows.  Her sense of adventure, her love for friends, kids of all sizes and ages, and her ability to bring people together is a wonder to behold.  Before her departure for Honduras, she hosted 20 people in her Lincoln Park apartment for an early “Friendsgiving”, featuring her Dad’s super-secret and famous caramelized onion gravy.  She will be teaching somewhere on Planet Earth after graduation.  Stay tuned for what will certainly be exciting developments! 

Heather wants you all to know that she is a proud Husky Freshman at the University of Washington.  Bow Down!    She is involved everywhere; will be starting Young Life leader training soon, and will be living next quarter in the Vision 16 women’s Christian community house, very close to campus.  She has already made what will likely be life-long close friendships, found a home at University Presbyterian church, finds her classes interesting and challenging, got to rush the field twice during game-end upsets during Husky football season (vicarious joy for Dad!), and is actually enjoying the near-daily rain of the Emerald City.  Her direction is a psychology major, with a possible minor emphasis in education or speech and hearing sciences.  A special shout-out goes to our dear Seattle friends, who have opened their homes and loved our girl like she is one of their own.

On Giving and Loving Others

Nancy’s year has again been one focused on giving her time and her heart to others.  This year brought trips Chicago, Austin, Spokane, Colorado Springs, and a special Toronto visit for Grammie Ruth’s 80^th birthday.  This fall we took a wonderful road trip to Seattle in late September to drop Heather off at UW, and we planned an extra week coming home slowly, with stops in Victoria BC, drives along the gorgeous Oregon coast, and amazing dinners in Napa and Carmel.  Nancy has seen increased responsibilities (and joy, she adds!) as the President of the Board of Club21 – a learning and resource center in Pasadena for families with children who have Down syndrome.  This has been a great blessing for us all, as our involvement has taught us deep lessons about the upside down nature of God’s care for those with special needs.  We are so much richer for our involvement!

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch 

As for me, the slightly dazed looking fellow deep in the middle years of middle age, there are times when I can hardly take it all in without a moment of blurry vision caused by tears.  I am so thankful and amazed at it all.  I can sit in my house on a cool November night and text one daughter in Honduras and the other in Seattle at the same time (from a phone that fits in my pocket!).  Two beautiful and amazing girls at great colleges.  The blessing of 24 years of marriage to a lovely wife who tolerates my oddities.  We are adjusting to this empty nest; the nest may be empty, but our hearts are very full indeed!  I am still employed, and the boss is a wonderful, yet modest guy.  Oh, he is also mildly handsome, given his age and hair challenges. 

In Closing – A Reflection

Each day, a gift.  Every one.  We were reminded of this quite recently, as we joined hundreds for a memorial service for a good friend, husband, and father of three, taken from us all by cancer far too early in life at just 51 years.  A profoundly good man; an example of what love, friendship, and faithfulness to family really looks like.  Men like Don are a rarity these days.  Those of us who remain down here for a while longer have a deep responsibility to continue a meaningful legacy of love, laughter, and encouragement to those around us.  Beyond our little accomplishments or the successes of our kids, these are the things that really matter.  As Christmas approaches, the days and years seem to blur together, just like in the times of Mr. Scrooge; with all the “people hurrying to and fro”.  But there is an important Christmas question for us in the midst of the hurrying.  Will we take the time to slow down, stop, and really listen to and love those in need around us?  Will we become like the transformed Mr. Scrooge?  Can we create lives that embrace others, like the mighty Founder of Christmas himself?   We have another year in front of us.  “God Bless us, every one!”

Christmas Love to all from Steve, Nancy, Kelly and Heather!

Candlelight Carol - John Rutter

Star Carol - John Rutter

Its Advent.  This is one of my favorite John Rutter carols.  Recorded at Royal Albert Hall, by the BBC.  Nothing like a room full of Brits, singing with their whole hearts!

See his star shining bright

In the sky this Christmas Night!

Follow me joyfully;

Hurry to Bethlehem and see the son of Mary!

He Put Me Here for a Reason

Do you ever wonder if your job, or your friendships, or maybe your whole life make a difference?  Do you feel small, unimportant, and insignificant?

And then do you sometimes think its all for naught?  Maybe you are like me, and you have been fooled into thinking that the only lives or careers that really matter are the ones that lead vast corporations, or produce medical miracles, or inspire thousands.  Being big and important and well recognized.  That is what really matters. 

It might be you have bought into the same pack of lies I have.  This short film proves to me, in a simple and elegant way, that so much of that sort of thinking is just not right. 

Might be that Rudy has it all exactly right.

As for me, when I grow up, I want to have the kind of quiet pride and dignity of work that Rudy Gonzalez has. 

Do you know what I mean?

Thanksgiving 2012 - Its Not Just Another Day

It's Thanksgiving. This is an amazing day. Let's not take this day, or any day for granted.

The narrator is Br. David Steindl Rast, a Benedictine monk.

On Losing, Winning, and Why This Feels So Good

This past Saturday, rain was threatening the skies over the Rose Bowl, in a land where the sun constantly shines.  This day the sky was deep grey and ominous, as if some massive dark and foreboding thing were coming.

And then, as the crowd of 90,000 stood and paused for the National Anthem - it felt as if the darkened heavens were nearly torn apart by two Navy FA 18 Super Hornets, as they streaked low overhead.  A deep roar, a rush of streaking jet engines, and a massive wave of cheers from the stands, the sound of power both machine and human.  Everyone was ready.  Bring it.

As I stood there, in the crowd, beside my bride of 24 years, I should have known this splitting of the sky was a sign.  A sign that good things do happen to undeserving souls.  A sign that the little guy does not always finish last; that those little guys in 1776 got their freedom.    And from that little band of people with principles, great and amazing things would happen.  This is America, after all.  Another college football Saturday, and a game of great rivals, unparalleled in the nation.

Two great universities, so much tradition, so much pride on the line.  Perhaps for the Bruins, more pride than arrogant expectation.  That arrogance sort of thing is typical in Troy, a place derived largely from mythology.

Sometimes, after loosing for 12 of the last 13 years, things can improve.  And maybe, just maybe, the monopoly in LA college football is over.

It was a Battle Royal.  In the end, the Guys Who Don't Usually Win .... won big time.  It was decisive.  One team left looking at the ground, having lost their alleged hero in a crushing sack, a metaphor for his teams' season.  The winners who were expected to always win, lost.  And they have been doing that a lot this year.  The other team jumped, and hooted, and hollered and celebrated like little kids let loose early from school.  This was an innocent joy, born out of 13 years of mostly loosing.  Every single player on this team had never beat SC.

We won!  We did it! 

Why do I feel so emotional about this rivalry?  It's personal.  I am a Bruin, Class of 1980.  Much of the good I have experienced in life I can trace in one way to my University years in Westwood.  In this spirit, below is my twist on a classic column by the great sportswriter Jim Murray. The article was written in 1978 when I was in school.  I clipped it out of the paper, and hung it on the door of my dorm room. For months it was there, like an identity badge.  I have updated it for the modern day:

"You all know the kind of school SC is. The girls are built like chorus girls. The boys look like Abercrombe ads. Their fathers are all rich. The all live in San Marino or Newport Beach, and Daddy is a third generation real estate developer.  Their biggest worry is the hedge fund market or where to park the Mercedes at the California Club. Their families have always run things in this town and they all belong to fraternities where you have to prove you never drove a used car and you think Hoover was our greatest President. Even though their "Old SC" now has more people of color, different income brackets, and academic scholarship than ever before, they try to ignore this is happening.  They pine for the Old Days.  They have their little Cardinal and Gold tail gates at the Coliseum with Biff (Class of 78) and Muffy (class of 80).  Muffy was a Kappa Dinga Sigma Hey, Biff a Smega Chi.  They miss John McKay."

"And they'll never have to lay pipe or pour cement or sweep floors or serve drinks or wear a hard hat and they'll go through life getting guys to open doors for them and take their hats.  It's the world of Thurston Howell III.  Although a stereotype, that's the public image of SC.  The First World. A very private university, a very private club. That's the image SC projects. Tuxedos and patrons of art, a Chagall in the guest bathroom.  And all those "new" SC people, well, they always use the guest bathroom.  Please."

"UCLA on the other hand, suggests a whole bunch of people who are going to become, not judges, or CEOs, but storefront lawyers, or child psychologists or oboists in the Philharmonic, or delegates to the Democratic convention. If they go abroad, its with the Peace Corps, not the plutocrats and its Biafra, not Biarritz.  If they ever get into the Cabinet, it would be in the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. Assistant Director to the Undersecretary.  When they are in school, they are working at the children's clinic or the parking garage of the California Club.  Their student loans last for decades."

These Bruins tolerate the football team because it brings in money for the Occupy Westwood rallies.  They prefer Quiditch on the Quad.  They like badminton with the folks from the ACLU, and wish cancer researchers and cardiologists got million-dollar contracts instead of guys who barely passed remedial English on their own football team."

Merriweather Lewis' Moment of Reflection

They were only thirty three souls and a dog, facing thousands of miles of unknown territory.  Their adventure captures my imagination like no other. 

Two years, four months and ten days travel from St. Louis to the Oregon Coast, and then back again to St. Louis; 3,700 miles one way and 7,000 miles round trip.  We moderns can make this trip in a period of hours.

They started out going upstream in a dugout boat, endured tortuously hot days, swarms of insects beyond imagination, saw plants and animals they had never imagined, and spent the freezing winter with Indians in North Dakota.  No group has ever done anything like this before, or since.  This was the incredible moon shot of 1804; in many ways, there was more mystery, adventure and courage in this journey than in the all of the Apollo program.

One of the two leaders of this group was a 30 year old from Virginia named Meriweather Lewis. Biographers note this was a man of who was introverted, melancholic, and moody.  William Clark, Lewis' co-leader of the expedition, was in contrast extroverted, even-tempered and gregarious. The better educated and more refined Lewis, who possessed a philosophical, romantic and speculative mind, was at home with abstract ideas; Clark, of a pragmatic mold, was more of a practical man of action. Each supplied vital qualities which balanced their partnership.

About six weeks ago, on our travels home, we stopped at Fort Clatsop, near Astoria, Oregon, at the mouth of the mighty Columbia River.  This was the last stop of Lewis & Clark's historic adventure to the West.  We spent a soft, cool Oregon morning at the Fort, walking through the reproduction of the original encampment and learning more about this remarkable journey.

While viewing the exhibits, I happened upon a quotation from the journal of Meriweather Lewis that I had read before, but now which  somehow resonated deep within me.  More than 206 years ago, on his birthday on a rainy night in coastal Oregon, surrounded by only frontier and darkness, in a completely new land, Meriweather Lewis sat in this (at left)  darkened room, lit only by fire and candlelight, recording in his journal his reflections on becoming just 31 years old:

This day I completed my thirty first year, and conceived that I had in all human probability now existed about half the period which I am to remain in this Sublunary world. I reflected that I had as yet done but little, very little indeed, to further the hapiness of the human race, or to advance the information of the succeeding generation. I viewed with regret the many hours I have spent in indolence, and now soarly feel the want of that information which those hours would have given me had they been judiciously expended. but since they are past and cannot be recalled, I dash from me the gloomy thought and resolved in future, to redouble my exertions and at least indeavour to promote those two primary objects of human existence, by giving them the aid of that portion of talents which nature and fortune have bestoed on me; or in future, to live for mankind, as I have heretofore lived for myself.

Lewis, Meriwether; Clark, William (2012-05-12). The Journals of Lewis and Clark, 1804-1806 (Kindle Locations 9685-9691) Kindle Edition.

The thoughts of this brave young adventurer leave me wondering about existential questions at beyond the midpoint of my own life.  I am standing, in a way, at a marker of my own; a time to reflect as a very recent empty nester, wondering what things of significance my future life will hold.    First, I wonder much these days about the worth of my own contributions to the world thus far.  What can I do that will offer a life lived for mankind, and not for myself?

Second, I wonder about the sense of distorted perspective that we might all have of our own lives.  What seemingly small things have we done that we cannot recognize as possibly of great importance?  Perhaps in the Divine economy, there is a different way of looking at what matters in life, and at the little things that can become big.

Here was a young man who had just accomplished things very few in recorded history could ever claim.  He and a small band had explored half of a continent.  And yet, as he looked back on his life, he found himself far lacking in things achieved or internal character.  Why was this, and why do I often feel very much the same way?

After the Expedition, Meriweather Lewis was appointed Governor of the Louisiana Territory.  William Clark was promoted to Brigadier General and appointed to the Superintendency of Indian Affairs. However, Lewis at age 35, died tragically on October 11, 1809, just three years after the Expedition.

His grave lies within Natchez Trace National Parkway, near Hohenwald, Tennessee. Thomas Jefferson, who held life-long affection for his protege, is credited with the Latin inscription on Lewis' tombstone: Immaturus obi: sed tu felicior annos Vive meos, Bona Republica! Viva tuos. (I died young: but thou, O Good Republic, live out my years for me with better fortune.)

For the most outstanding book on Lewis and Clark's Voyage of Discovery, see Stephen Ambrose's Undaunted Courage.