An Eagle Scout

“ 'When in doubt, write,'an English teacher drummed into me long ago. Why is this so important? Because you are changing…and there is nothing more fascinating than to closely observe the process of change and deepening, and how we respond to that quicksilver phenomenon. Bear in mind what the humble humorist James Thurber said when asked why he wrote: “'I don’t know what I think until I read what I have to say'."

-Philip Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage

Most of what I write and post here are stories of redemption. This one is not. After more than 50 years this story is still raw and unresolved. Maybe in the writing I will find peace and mercy. I hope so.

I had several good friends growing up and one of them invited me to go to Boy Scouts with him.  So I went.  Within a few weeks I joined Troop 99 and was assigned to the Rattler Patrol with my friend.

The rankings in Boy Scouts are Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, Star, Life and Eagle.  On weekend and two  week summer camps I wasted no time advancing through the ranks. By the end of my second year I had earned the status of Life Scout.  And then I did all the work and earned all the merit badges to become Eagle.  All I lacked was my service project and I was making plans to begin that process.

I adored and respected Devon my patrol leader.  He was firm and demanding with his expectations for us, but he was also kind and gracious.  He made sure we had what we needed to become successful. It was a “when I grow up I want to be just like you” situation.

I gained a reputation on our camping trips as the campfire starter.  I gathered wood and kindling from the nearby woods.  I stacked the wood like Lincoln Logs so that with no accelerant and the strike of one match within minutes we had a roaring fire. “Be Prepared” was not only my motto but was becoming my lifestyle.  Besides working my way up the designation ladder, toward the end of my second year I became the assistant patrol leader.  That position was perfect for me.  I had some leadership responsibility but I mostly worked beside Devon to make each scout successful. Then something happened that changed my life. Devon quit scouts and I became the patrol leader. I was apprehensive about the new position and knew that I had been over promoted.  I would not read of The Peter Principle for years, but it certainly applied to me then.

The time came for the first weekend camping trip to Camp Alaflo with me as the patrol leader. I decided as a change from normal camp food I would do something special and prepare one of my favorite foods, fried shrimp. So with my tent, sleeping bag, and clothing I took along a cooker, cooking oil and frozen shrimp.  What could go wrong?

After we arrived at the camp ground and got settled in, I took my patrol on a hike.  After we  had hiked an hour or so, one of our campers stepped on a yellow jacket's nest and got stung several times. So we headed back to camp.  When we got there our scout master was waiting for us. I wondered what I had done wrong.  He took one of our patrol members aside and gently told him that his little brother had been killed and that someone would give him a ride home. It was ridiculous to think any of that was my fault but it felt that way. I was a very sensitive young boy.  Everything got in and I let everything out.

That evening after my fire died to low flames and hot coals, I hung the cooker on  a tripod above the fire. I added the oil and the shrimp.  Everything was going fine until somebody bumped the cooker and spilled it into the  fire.  The burning oil made its way across the ground and into my tent.  The tent was spared but not my sleeping bag.  That night and the next I slept on the ground.

When we got home I did two things. I put all my scout clothes in a drawer and I never went back.  No one called me. My scout master didn’t call. Nobody called. Weeks turned into months turned into years until I was too old to complete the process of becoming Eagle Scout.  As close as I got I’ve never been introduced as Eagle Scout because I never became one.

Now as I read what I wrote, this is what I figured out. I was just a kid. None of that was my fault. The yellow jackets, the death and the fire were not my fault. If it was my fault then I forgive myself and I forgive my scout master too. I'm sure that he felt I quit for my own good reasons. I also realize that whereas I never became an Eagle Scout, I became a lot of other things. Not becoming an Eagle Scout does not define me.  For that matter none  of my other accomplishments define me either. But if you want to refer to my most proud accomplishment, call me grandfather. That’s a designation that goes to the very core of my being. But even that relationship doesn't define me. 

If the Universe gives me the chance to do it all again, will I stay in scouts and complete my Eagle? I don't think so. If I change that, maybe I never become a husband.   If I change that, then maybe I never become a father and a grandfather. If I change that then maybe I'm not sitting in my den pecking away on Blogspot and you aren't reading these words. And that would be a shame because "I don't know what I think until I read what I have to say." Writing about it helps me to see everything In a Different Light. 

God, God, God

“God is not a Christian, God is not a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist. All of those are human systems which human beings have created to try to help us walk into the mystery of God. I honor my tradition, I walk through my tradition, but I don’t think my tradition defines God, I think it only points me to God.” -John Shelby Spong, Walking into the Mystery of God

I don’t talk much about God.  I have a lifetime of experience of relating to God. I have read the Bible through. I have read dozens of books over the years on matters pertaining to God which have influenced me and affected my thinking. I have attended several thousand church services and have listened to several thousand sermons all pertaining to some aspect of God. But I don’t pretend to know God.  But the main reason I seldom mention God is that there are approximately 7.6 billion different opinions on who God is, how we relate to God and how God relates to us.  If I start talking to you about God, it’s your God you are thinking about and not mine. Let’s say that you and I are standing side by side at the  edge of the Grand Canyon.  The view is nearly exactly the same for each of us. But each of us will experience the moment in ways that are unique to ourselves. The canyon, like God, is an unfathomable mystery. What the Grand Canyon means to an archaeologist is completely different than what it means to me. I’m enjoying the macrocosm while she is pondering the microcosm. But it’s the same canyon.

Right about now you’re saying, “Then I don’t understand your analogy. On the one hand you seem to be suggesting that we shouldn’t talk about God because there could be some confusion, but it’s okay to talk about the Grand Canyon which is also incomprehensible.” You make an excellent point, but here’s the difference.  Referencing the quote above, “I don’t think my tradition defines God.”  Millions of people define God through the lens of their  own traditions.  Not only do Christians see God as a Christian, but I think Baptists see God as a Baptist.  Pentecostals see God as a Pentecostal.  Lutherans see God as a Lutheran, Disciples of Christ see God as Disciples of Christ, etc.   So if I’m a Lutheran and you are a Baptist, you think I’m talking about your God, but I’m talking about mine.  If we’re talking about the Grand Canyon, we pretty much have the same place in mind.

I spent the summer of 1973 in and around Eatontown,  New Jersey.  I was a summer missionary through the Home Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention.  I turned twenty  that summer and the experience ended up being a pivotal time in my life, in my relationship with God, with others and with myself. My missionary partner that summer was a young lady named Anne. Anne was from Virginia.  I don’t know if all Virginians had her accent, but she had an edge to her voice.  It could grate on you if you let it.  One morning teaching a Bible  School of elementary students at the Monmouth Baptist Church,  she was waxing eloquently about God. But it came out “Geeyahd”.  About the 20^th time she said “Geeyahd” an exasperated 3^rd grader shouted, “God, God, God.  All you ever talk about is God!!” Anne paused a second, looked at her, looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and continued her lesson. In  July Anne had to go home for two weeks after the sudden  and unexpected death of her brother. I was so glad to see her when she got back.  And I didn’t care how she said “God”.

The quote above says that we create our theological systems “to help us walk  into the mystery of God.” I would like it better if it said, “walk into the Mystery” and let it go at that.  Wouldn’t that be something if during the sideline interview with the head coach after the big game he said, “I thank the Mystery for  this win.  We wouldn't have won the game without  It”.

I've had the privilege of seeing the Grand Canyon three times.  The first time, at the south rim, I was there only long enough to take it in for a few minutes.  The next time I was at the south rim again and stayed there for several days. The last time, at the north rim, I was only there for two days. But something broke in our four wheeler and my brother and I were stranded at the rim for over three hours.We had  nothing better to do than to hike along the rim, talk, laugh and take pictures.  But after spending all that time there on both rims, about the most I can do is point at it and say, "There's the Grand Canyon."

I heard a story about a twelve year old boy who was at the Grand  Canyon with his family  As they stood there he spoke into the chasm and to no one in particular, "Something happened here." So maybe when it comes to knowing God,  the best we can do is place the palm of our hand over our own beating heart and say, "Something happened here."

I Think It's Going to Rain Today

Human kindness is overflowing and I think it’s going to rain today. “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today”, Randy Newman

In August of 1973 I transferred as a junior to Samford University from my junior college, the Enterprise State Junior College in Enterprise, Alabama. Samford is a liberal arts college in Birmingham. I  had been accepted to a choir before I was accepted to Samford.  But very soon I was accepted to Samford.  This choir had an annual fall choir camp at Shocco Spings Baptist Assembly in Talladega, Alabama the weekend before classes started. A search committee from the New Prospect Baptist Church in Jasper, Alabama drove to Talladega to interview a student to become a part-time minister of music at their church. He wasn’t interested so they talked to me. The next day, a Sunday, I was in their pulpit as the prospective minister of music. I was actually at the New Prospect Baptist Church before I took my first class at Samford.

Jasper at that time was about an hour’s drive northwest of Birmingham.  Accepting that position was an immense commitment of time and energy.

The first week of school the dean  of the school music talked me from a church music degree to a music education degree. This degree was a five year degree instead of the usual four year degree.  This meant that I would have three more years of college to graduate with this degree and earn a teacher’s certificate to teach in Alabama. For three years including “Jan term” I took a full load.  My normal load was about eighteen semester hours.  This was semester hours and not quarter hours. When I wasn’t in class or in the library I was in the practice room. It was a grueling schedule.

After a few months the church bought a mobile home for me to live in on weekends.  On  Friday afternoon I would drive to Jasper to participate in my other life. In the fall I hosted a “fifth quarter huddle” for the youth after the football game. On Saturday morning I would  wash cars to raise money for our annual youth mission tour. And Saturday afternoon I would participate in bus ministry visitation. Most Saturday evenings I could call my own. Sunday included Sunday School and church, and youth choir rehearsal that afternoon and church. There was a family that took me in. A mother, a father and two teenage girls. Often I would spend time with them after church before driving back to Birmingham. I caught up with my dorm roommate and fell exhausted in my bed. On Monday morning it all started again.  On Wednesdays I would drive to Jasper where I directed three children’s choirs and the adult choir. I got back to school between 9:30 and 10:00pm.

The summer of 1974 a beautiful coed visited the New Prospect Baptist Church. She lived in Jasper and was also a student at Samford.  I had heard of her and knew that she had joined my choir at school. I had not only checked her out, but I learned that she had shown up to check me out. What started as a ride share became a friendship and became a life together.

It must have been a really good day at the church.  That night driving to pick up my girlfriend on Highway 78 East I was filled to overflowing. I don’t know when my heart had been so full of where I had been and where I was going.  I had the radio in my Mercury Capri tuned to KZ106 in Birmingham. I was listening to a live concert of I wasn’t sure who.  The introduction started to a song that would touch me, change me and become a part of the fabric of my soul. If I had been “all full up”, as my future father-in-law would say, I was now overflowing with beauty and gratitude. When the song was over the only lyrics I could remember were “Human  kindness is overflowing and I think it’s going to rain today.” Monday morning I called the station quoting those words to see if the DJ knew the song. He did not.  For five years I looked for that song and never found it.

That girlfriend had now been my wife for four years.  One night I decided to watch a movie I had bought called Beaches starring Bette Midler. My wife had already gone to bed. Deep into the movie, as soon as the introduction started, I knew the song. I was filled with tears, wonderment and gratitude that I had finally found the song.  The next morning I excitingly said, “You’ll never believe what I found last night.” And with God as my witness she said, “You found your song.” Yes, I had found my song. Or more accurately, my song had found me.

I’m still in constant touch with that couple in Jasper who are now well into their eighties.  It’s so good to reminisce and laugh about days gone by and talk about our families and our friends.  At our age we discuss more than a little bit about our health. I dread that phone call, but it’s inevitable. “Human kindness is overflowing and I think it’s going to rain today.”

Things could have ended better at the New Prospect Baptist Church. But I have visited the church and even led the music several times since then.  Sometimes life is most meaningful in the broken places. I would take nothing for my four years at that church. I have thought many times that the church became a frame that has expanded with my life. I am always inside that frame.

“Bright before me the signs implore me, help the needy and show them the way. Human kindness is overflowing and I think it’s going to rain today.”