Everyday moments can refresh one’s soul

From my friend Mary, I heard the story of a mutual 86 years young friend. He’s an active man who cuts his lawn every week; let’s call him Steve. Steve was sitting on his sidewalk this summer, his head bent and chest moving rapidly up and down when a concerned neighbor stopped and asked “What’s happening, Steve?” “Oh nothing,” he replied. “I’m waiting to catch my breath.”

I know this man and have seen him wait patiently before. Several weeks ago I walked into a Hayden Family History Center and Steve was standing by the door. I entered and said “Hello.” As friends do, we stood and chatted. I had only one hour to do research and was anxious to get to a computer. So I asked, “Steve, Are you coming or going today?”

“Oh, I’m on my way home,” he said, “I just need to wait until my knees unlock so I can move again.”

Hearing the story of him sitting on the sidewalk, I wondered if his knees had locked up then so I asked, “Why was Steve sitting on his sidewalk? The reply was, “Oh, he only has the strength to cut one strip of grass at a time, then he has to stop and catch his breath.”

“Why does he keep cutting the grass if it’s so hard for him?” I asked. The answer was, “He lives with his son and he says it’s important for him to contribute.”

Throughout my life I have felt a need to contribute and have responded in many ways such as getting an education, having a family, and making religious and civic commitments.

I also believe that it is important, as much as possible, to enjoy each moment as it comes along. One such enjoyable moment recently happened in a burst of song. It came with the first snow of the season. A fellow co-worker walked out of his office singing. “Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow.”

He was a skier and the white snowflakes meant a freedom to him that I haven’t learned to appreciate yet. I asked him “Are you a skier.” He replied. “I used to be. But I broke my back in three places and I can’t ski anymore.” Still the falling snow excited and pleased him and his joy added greatly to my day. Thanks, Roy!

Another lovely moment was a phone call from my daughter. She was driving from Provo, Utah, to Las Vegas, where she was living for a brief time. As she often does while she is driving she calls to talk. I know we are in for a long conversation because she’s bored and on a long empty stretch of the road. So we talked. It went something like this.

“Hi, Mom. Did you know that I can see the Big Dipper tonight? Hmmm, I can’t remember which star is the North Star. Do you remember?”

I was sitting in bed, but I got up saying, “No, dear I don’t remember. But if you hold on I’ll look it up on the Internet. OK. Yes, to find the North Star, Find the Big Dipper and follow the two stars at the end of the basin upward. This should lead you directly to the North Star. It’s the last star in the handle of the Little Dipper.”

“So where are you right now?” I asked jumping back under the warm covers.

“Let’s see,” She replied, “I just passed Cedar City. It’s just after 9 p.m. and I should be back at the house in Las Vegas by midnight. Oh dear, I see a bunch of mountains coming up so we may lose connection soon.” They were the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains and she was right. We did lose connection.

But I made another connection on a Saturday evening at the Northwest Sacred Music Chorale’s 2006-07-concert season kickoff. They performed at the First Presbyterian Church in Coeur d’Alene. The program was difficult but delightful. They began with the cantatas of Bach and ended with the contemporary praise of Joseph Martin’s “The Winter Rose.” The winter rose is the story of how the rose bush goes into hibernation during the snowy winter but blooms again with the gentle rains and sunshine of the spring.

Just before the intermission, Mark Haberman introduced us to the newly integrated all-digital technology of the pipe organ by playing selections from Bach and from Charles Marie Widor. It was remarkable keyboard work.

Marietta Hardy, the choir’s keyboard specialist, also used the new organ for her work during the Bach and Joseph Martin portions of the program. She had the organ sounding like a harpsichord. I especially liked its presentation during the Bach cantatas. I was refreshed by Hardy’s and the choir’s work.

Refreshment to one’s soul does not always come easily. Sometimes we have to wait for knee’s to unlock or an organ to be integrated or a late-night phone call. But like the winter rose we each can find hope in the promise of spring, even as the snow is falling or the wind is blowing.