This Memorial Day

When Mr. E—, who works with Christian schools internationally, talked to the AP and British Literature classes this year about differences in cultures, he mentioned that when people from other countries have accompanied him to the U. S., they often cannot understand why Americans honor their military. We clap for men and women in uniform at airports across the nation, and it has not gone unnoticed.

Once while we dined in a Disneyworld restaurant, when the couple next to our table learned that Joel was military, they bought him a bowl of clam chowder that was their favorite there because they wanted to thank him for his service. And, many people have and do spend much time in prayer for him and his family. For that I am grateful.

With several military installations located in our town, it seems like most everyone is connected to the military in some way. And for years, every house on our block has displayed a flag everyday of the year, not just days like today.

I remember the night of 9/11 seeing the young couple next door in the sleet and the snow, together on a ladder, hanging an American flag. A few months later when their world imploded, I wondered if it had been the last meaningful act they’d done together.

Before Memorial Day weekend is over, many of my family in the area of my Midwestern roots will have made their way to small cemeteries that line country church yards far and near to place flags and flowers. I’m sure there are new ones at the front of my own dad’s grave this day.

So, on this Memorial Day, as I walked along the flag-bearing houses of my neighborhood, I thought again of our cultural characteristic of honoring our military. In many countries the military is the oppressive arm of a tyrant, but not here. So, I would answer those who would ask why we clap, support, and pray—

We honor our military because they are the guardians of our freedoms regardless of race, status, or creed. And we thank them because they and their families have given much to perform to that end.

The Battle for the Soul

 “sinful desires war against our soul”  (1 Peter 2:11)

And is that not the battle, after all?

The battle for the soul?

As we concern ourselves with the petty—

the injustices of the work place,

the inconveniences of our conditions,

our disappointments,

our failures

That pull our attention inward,

but not soul-ward.

And while we reach

For a morsel of earthly satisfaction,

a battle—

an all out cry—

Rages within our midst,

A war hard fought for nothing other

Than our very soul.

While, we stand in oblivion,

Entrenched by forces vying for the prize—

thoughtlessly,

inattentively,

We stretch for desires—

Sinful desires—

Unaware that within that outstretched palm,

Rests—naked and exposed—

            The prize,

                                    Our soul.

                                               

                                                                        Deb Borkert ‘12

1 Peter 3

And this would be a day that I would read 1 Pet. 3 and all that stuff about a "gentle and quiet spirit"--living in harmony and sympathy, love and  compassion. It'd have to be about keeping your "tongue from evil" and "seeking peace." 

Well, today I was a failure--a failure just when I can least afford it. 


Maybe tomorrow I'll "do good" and "seek peace."

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous 

and his ears are attentive to their prayer.

This is no time to get sassy, and I need to remember that!

Monet's Lament

I hear the birds in busy work,

Singing 'mid the sunny fields;

Flowers, too, are blossoming;

Spring is bringing forth her yield--

But, not for me.

I hear the children laugh in play,

Games of joy and hide-n-seek.

Squirrels are chasing lovingly;

They beckon forth the shy and meek--

But, not to me.

Today I sit alone in darkness.

Today I weep in pain.

Today the shadows, my companions,

Reach out--to embrace me.

Deb Borkert ‘11

Fear

Sadness is within the shadows

My old foe has returned.

I sense you there

Beyond the wispy branches,

In the forest of my mind.

What calleth thyself this day?

Disappointment, fear, reality?

Ah, fear, my worst fear—

It has been some time.

When I was young, I wailed against you,

In middle age, I ignored you—

I hadn’t time.

But, now you greet an old woman.

What shall my response be?

I desire to sink into you.

But, I know there is no rest in thy soft breast.

And it leaves me bewildered,

As we parley ‘round this tree—

Deb Borkert ‘11

Suddenly

Suddenly—

She stood open,

Visibly rattled,

Beseeching—

Uncloaked, she awakened

Something in me—

Compassion?

And I was drawn to her.

Next day,

She’d pulled

Herself back under her

Wrap of insecurity—

Arms folded,

Hands withdrawn.

And I could not reach her—

For I could not touch her fingers.

D. Borkert 8/15/11

I'm Losing My Red

I’m losing my red.

I first started to lose my red when I dropped my cute, red, point-and-shoot camera in a London airport. Helen was just so cute walking along pulling her little suitcase, that some ridiculous idea came across me that I could (because my right hand was full of stuff) take out my camera with my left hand, push the button to open it and take a video of her —all, while walking and getting farther behind the rest of the group. (Yes, you guessed it. I’m right handed. And yes, it was a stupid idea, which resulted in my cute red camera having the back pop open…right at the beginning of our Great Britain vacation with the kids.) After we arrived at our B & B in Cambridge, Jay and I both futilely tried to push the sides back together.  Eventually, Joel walked over, peered down at the camera, took it, smashed it back together (either because he is stronger than us, or he didn’t care to be careful), and it clicked right in place. Though the screen had a few bubbles in it, it worked great for the rest of the trip. I have pictures to show for it…if I ever get them posted on facebook.

The real death of the camera came on our anniversary. Well, really the day before because we generally get to spend our actual anniversary sitting in before-the-start-of school meetings that every teacher in America find inspiring and beneficial. So the day before our anniversary, we made a picnic lunch, consumed it at Cheyenne Mountain State Park, and hiked up a trail. All was well until it began to rain, then pour. Though I tucked the camera in the pocket of my rain blazer, it was thoroughly soaked when we slid into the truck. Alas, the display on the back has been black ever since. Pictures it will take, but looking through the view finder is not my idea of fun. Jay said, “You just need to get a new camera like my new one.” “Do they come in red?” I responded. “No, just silver or black, I think.”

Then tonight we went to look at new phones. Our phones are old…way over the contract period. Jay wants a new iPhone when they come out. We decided to scout around the AT&T store to get an idea of our options for the other 3 phones. Right away, we found great little phones for our moms. They’re flip phones, have large number pads, and pretty much look and function like their old ones. Then it came to me. I wanted something I could text on if I ever decide to learn how to do that. I wanted something that looked a little more “with it.” (I feel like I need to keep up appearances with these teenagers I share life with 5 days a week.) Touch screen, it had to be. I gazed longingly down the row. Not one red phone in the entire store. So, in a couple of weeks, I’ll switch out the sim card from my cute little red phone and slide it into a classy, but black, phone…with a touch screen.

I’ve also noticed that my little red purse is looking a little worn around the edges. It’s handy with little pockets for all my cards. But I do have a bag that I bought this summer that would work well this winter. You guessed it. It’s a nice black fabric.

Yes, I’m losing my red. I see it slipping right away.

I guess in reality I began to lose my red years ago, one hair at a time. I’ll never quite forget the time I updated my driver’s license, and they changed my hair color from red to blonde…without even asking.

Now, I don’t have anything against black. It’s classy, sophisticated, and sexy. I just happen to think red is fun. And I do want to push into the future, but I’m sure going to miss my red.