Class Reunions
“Are you going to your class reunion?” I am amazed how many times I ask that question and the response is, “No.”
I love my class reunions. Last Saturday morning and afternoon, the 1979 class of good ’ol Winnsboro High School celebrated at the Oaklea Mansion, across the street from the, now restored, Rock Gym.
A number of fellow classmates have spent the past few months tracking down folks, taking care of logistics, and putting in the time necessary to make an event like this happen. (Michael Murley and Lesa Monday, I’ve got to give you a big shout-out for all of your hard work especially.)
I had a great time. It was a perfect day, so we spent all our time outside under the tall, old trees. I arrived about 10:45 A. M., later than I had intended, but it was for a good cause. (My son had lost his glasses, a rare occurrence—usually only twice a week.)
We have had a reunion, I think, every five years. I made all of them but the 1989 reunion, which was held a couple of months after Judy and I moved to Argentina. If there was a reunion in1994 reunion, I missed it too. (We were still living in Argentina.)
The only thing I do not like about our class reunions is, even though we never have a 100 % turnout, there are always enough people present to create an obstacle for me. I want to visit, at least a little bit, with each person there. In fulfilling this desire, I always find myself, as I drive away from my reunion, feeling wistful. There was not enough time to sit down and visit with each person to make me feel satisfied.
Just one year, I would love to leave my reunion feeling like I caught up with every last person. Were I able to say to each classmate:
* Tell me about your dreams—did you realize them?
* Tell me about your disappointments.
* Tell me about your victories.
* Tell me about your failures.
* Tell me what you would tell your 18 year old self if you could go back in time.
* Tell me how you have changed after all of these years.
* Tell me what you have learned in life.
* Tell me, do you still have dreams?
I know, though, what you probably know as well. I instinctively feel, as I drive away, that which takes me days to process and identify. Reunions are not constructed to withstand the weight of our desires. Reunions are brief events designed to offer opportunities for brief exchanges to renew acquaintances.
What I would love to experience at a reunion cannot be experienced at a reunion. It can only be experienced in relationships, and relationships take time. What I want is to take the emotional byproduct of what was typically a twelve year relationship, and compress it into a reunion lasting but a few hours.
Alas, there is not enough time; there never is.
I think these realities lay at the root of my emotions as I nostalgically drove away Saturday afternoon. Somewhere along the drive, I became emotionally grounded once more. I celebrated these all-too-brief encounters with my classmates. I treasured what I was able to experience:
* a leisurely late morning and early afternoon visit with old friends
* hearing words of affirmation
* seeing a classmate for the first time since graduation night
* catching up with the reunion regulars, which never gets old
* hearing for the first time in thirty years a reading of our life plans after graduation (as published in our hometown newspaper the week of our graduation)
* receiving important news about the lives of classmates
* hearing words of encouragement
* observing the spiritual growth of classmates
For the privilege of that experience, how can I but leave content?
I love my class reunions. Last Saturday morning and afternoon, the 1979 class of good ’ol Winnsboro High School celebrated at the Oaklea Mansion, across the street from the, now restored, Rock Gym.
A number of fellow classmates have spent the past few months tracking down folks, taking care of logistics, and putting in the time necessary to make an event like this happen. (Michael Murley and Lesa Monday, I’ve got to give you a big shout-out for all of your hard work especially.)
I had a great time. It was a perfect day, so we spent all our time outside under the tall, old trees. I arrived about 10:45 A. M., later than I had intended, but it was for a good cause. (My son had lost his glasses, a rare occurrence—usually only twice a week.)
We have had a reunion, I think, every five years. I made all of them but the 1989 reunion, which was held a couple of months after Judy and I moved to Argentina. If there was a reunion in1994 reunion, I missed it too. (We were still living in Argentina.)
The only thing I do not like about our class reunions is, even though we never have a 100 % turnout, there are always enough people present to create an obstacle for me. I want to visit, at least a little bit, with each person there. In fulfilling this desire, I always find myself, as I drive away from my reunion, feeling wistful. There was not enough time to sit down and visit with each person to make me feel satisfied.
Just one year, I would love to leave my reunion feeling like I caught up with every last person. Were I able to say to each classmate:
* Tell me about your dreams—did you realize them?
* Tell me about your disappointments.
* Tell me about your victories.
* Tell me about your failures.
* Tell me what you would tell your 18 year old self if you could go back in time.
* Tell me how you have changed after all of these years.
* Tell me what you have learned in life.
* Tell me, do you still have dreams?
I know, though, what you probably know as well. I instinctively feel, as I drive away, that which takes me days to process and identify. Reunions are not constructed to withstand the weight of our desires. Reunions are brief events designed to offer opportunities for brief exchanges to renew acquaintances.
What I would love to experience at a reunion cannot be experienced at a reunion. It can only be experienced in relationships, and relationships take time. What I want is to take the emotional byproduct of what was typically a twelve year relationship, and compress it into a reunion lasting but a few hours.
Alas, there is not enough time; there never is.
I think these realities lay at the root of my emotions as I nostalgically drove away Saturday afternoon. Somewhere along the drive, I became emotionally grounded once more. I celebrated these all-too-brief encounters with my classmates. I treasured what I was able to experience:
* a leisurely late morning and early afternoon visit with old friends
* hearing words of affirmation
* seeing a classmate for the first time since graduation night
* catching up with the reunion regulars, which never gets old
* hearing for the first time in thirty years a reading of our life plans after graduation (as published in our hometown newspaper the week of our graduation)
* receiving important news about the lives of classmates
* hearing words of encouragement
* observing the spiritual growth of classmates
For the privilege of that experience, how can I but leave content?
Mr. Talbert and Coach Campbell
As I wrote, I had a marvelous time Saturday. In the afternoon, some of us walked across the street to the Rock Gym (built in 1939) and enjoyed some moments with other WHS graduates at the all school reunion. At 2:30, a few of us traveled to Winnsboro’s old baseball field, Walker Park, for a marker dedication and to honor Winnsboro’s old semi-pro baseball team—the Oilers. Our high school principal, Carl Talbert, was a star centerfielder on that team.
I can’t believe he never told us about that! It's always funny how easy it is to forget that these people who helped form and shape you were young once and had a life without you.
Late Saturday afternoon, after our reunion, I had a chance to visit my old eighth grade history and reading teacher, as well as high school tennis coach, Tom Campbell. Coach Campbell made a big impact on my teaching and preaching. (Evidently, he didn’t make a big enough impact on my tennis—I lost at regionals.) He is in poor health and in a rehab center, so I definitely wanted to stop by and see him.
I intended only a brief visit, but ended up staying an hour or two. It was one of those things where we picked up where we left off thirty years ago. Every time I tried to leave, we would start talking about some other subject and get going again. It was really neat to see Coach Campbell and communicate to him what a difference he had made in my life.
Late Saturday afternoon, after our reunion, I had a chance to visit my old eighth grade history and reading teacher, as well as high school tennis coach, Tom Campbell. Coach Campbell made a big impact on my teaching and preaching. (Evidently, he didn’t make a big enough impact on my tennis—I lost at regionals.) He is in poor health and in a rehab center, so I definitely wanted to stop by and see him.
I intended only a brief visit, but ended up staying an hour or two. It was one of those things where we picked up where we left off thirty years ago. Every time I tried to leave, we would start talking about some other subject and get going again. It was really neat to see Coach Campbell and communicate to him what a difference he had made in my life.
Some Thoughts on Happiness
Last summer, I preached on the book of Jeremiah. This fall, on Sunday nights, I’ve been preaching on the Beatitudes. Both have me thinking a lot about happiness.
The yearning for happiness goes back to the Garden. We instinctively understand we lost something there, and we did. We instinctively know there was something better, and there will be something better. Presently, we don't fully possess it.
Yet, even in the Garden, even when Adam and Eve had everything they needed to be happy, more than they needed to be happy, they wanted more. So they ate the fruit.
Intellectually, we know it is impossible to be happy all of the time. You get the perfect wife—she dies. You lose a child. A best friend moves away. However, we so often live driven by the thought that happiness lies around the corner. And if we squeeze a little tighter, if we lift a little more weight, if we run a little faster, if we try a little harder, we will capture it. The truth is, as has been written, happiness in this life evades us like a butterfly escaping the grasp of chasing child.
Our realistic aim should not be happiness in this life. Our aim should be the joy of Jesus, the contentment of Christ.
The yearning for happiness goes back to the Garden. We instinctively understand we lost something there, and we did. We instinctively know there was something better, and there will be something better. Presently, we don't fully possess it.
Yet, even in the Garden, even when Adam and Eve had everything they needed to be happy, more than they needed to be happy, they wanted more. So they ate the fruit.
Intellectually, we know it is impossible to be happy all of the time. You get the perfect wife—she dies. You lose a child. A best friend moves away. However, we so often live driven by the thought that happiness lies around the corner. And if we squeeze a little tighter, if we lift a little more weight, if we run a little faster, if we try a little harder, we will capture it. The truth is, as has been written, happiness in this life evades us like a butterfly escaping the grasp of chasing child.
Our realistic aim should not be happiness in this life. Our aim should be the joy of Jesus, the contentment of Christ.
Will Current Kids be the Death of Civilization?
“These kids will be the death of civilization.”
A lot of folks are scared of kids. They are scared of technology. As newspapers and magazines die, a major fear is that kids are becoming so stimulated by TV and computers, they will lose the desire to read. Hence we will revert back to an illiterate culture.
Our youth minister, Tim Henderson, and I were visiting about this the other day. We considered some of the following possibilities.
Perhaps kids are reading more today than ever before. With internet access to news sites such as those of TIME and MICROSOFT, not to mention the access to news concerning science, politics, art, and global affairs via the GOOGLE reader and other internet resources, kids are reading more widely than we did. Moreover, we have found young people to be aware of breaking news faster than we were.
Kids are writing more than we did. Between journals and blogs, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, and text messaging, kids today are literally writing more words in their spare time than my generation did.
I crack up thinking about this: approximately 150 years ago, the telegraph was invented. This was followed by the telephone, radio and television.
Now, kids can use Skype and literally talk face-to-face, all over the world, for pennies. With cell phones, they can have unlimited phone conversations with friends in their network. And what do they do? They write text messages to each other. They are reverting back to the days of the telegraph!
150 years ago, one friend excitedly telegraphed another, “ARRIVE TOMORROW”, and he did, by train. Today, with all of our technology available, one kid excitedly telegraphs (texts) another, “ARRIVE TOMORROW.” And he does. (Oh, well, at least our phone lines remain open.) Even though texting is concise and colloquial, it is still writing.
Here’s a mind-bender. What if the kids of today are becoming literate? What if, because of technology, they become more adapt at reading, contemplating ideas, and expressing their thoughts through writing? We could be headed that way.
A lot of folks are scared of kids. They are scared of technology. As newspapers and magazines die, a major fear is that kids are becoming so stimulated by TV and computers, they will lose the desire to read. Hence we will revert back to an illiterate culture.
Our youth minister, Tim Henderson, and I were visiting about this the other day. We considered some of the following possibilities.
Perhaps kids are reading more today than ever before. With internet access to news sites such as those of TIME and MICROSOFT, not to mention the access to news concerning science, politics, art, and global affairs via the GOOGLE reader and other internet resources, kids are reading more widely than we did. Moreover, we have found young people to be aware of breaking news faster than we were.
Kids are writing more than we did. Between journals and blogs, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, and text messaging, kids today are literally writing more words in their spare time than my generation did.
I crack up thinking about this: approximately 150 years ago, the telegraph was invented. This was followed by the telephone, radio and television.
Now, kids can use Skype and literally talk face-to-face, all over the world, for pennies. With cell phones, they can have unlimited phone conversations with friends in their network. And what do they do? They write text messages to each other. They are reverting back to the days of the telegraph!
150 years ago, one friend excitedly telegraphed another, “ARRIVE TOMORROW”, and he did, by train. Today, with all of our technology available, one kid excitedly telegraphs (texts) another, “ARRIVE TOMORROW.” And he does. (Oh, well, at least our phone lines remain open.) Even though texting is concise and colloquial, it is still writing.
Here’s a mind-bender. What if the kids of today are becoming literate? What if, because of technology, they become more adapt at reading, contemplating ideas, and expressing their thoughts through writing? We could be headed that way.
Five things I think I think (a tip of the hat to Peter King for this idea)
1. I thought Red Dreher’s column in the DALLAS MORNING NEWS, “When Science Meets Pop Culture”, to be one of the more even-handed treatments of science and religion. Here is the link if you are interested. http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/opinion/points/stories/DN-dreher_04edi.State.Edition1.2ec3aa3.html
2. Phillies vs. Yankees. I pick the Phillies.
3. I have noticed God has pulled out his paintbrush again. The leaves on the trees are beautiful.
4. Finished showing my high school Bible class the THE TRUMAN SHOW this week. No movie in my memory demonstrates the “winsome” work of Satan, and the destructive work of Satan, than this one. I’m sure that was not Peter Weir’s conscience intention, but the subconscious and spiritual aspects of his being reflected this reality in his creative work. An amazing effort—probably in my Top 10 movie list for impact.
5. Randy and Alex York, I am really looking forward to you using your artistic gifts this Sunday morning during our sermon time. God bless you.
Have a Great Weekend!
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