Chasers

Do you have something you love to chase? A hobby, a sport, a person?

Chasing can be fun. Here's my story. What's yours?

Chasers

    The afternoon coolness creeps through the opening in the sleeves of my jean jacket and yet there is a brush of warmth on my neck. The sun makes his presence known as he fences with the wind and I too get ready to practice my sport.  

      The trees on the streets around me glow with their multi-shades of autumn colors and I pause to delight in their boasting.  Today nature drew a perfect outfit from her closet and Murphy, North Carolina wears it well.

      An emerald green, life size topiary moose stands in front of the store where my husband and I part. He on his treasure hunt and I on mine. He on his chase for an item he can't find at home, the thing he loves, a perfect, creamy, just right chocolate milk. "It's hard to find any more," he says.   And I? I’m also ready to chase something I love. I open the door of The Trading Post, turn right and go straight  toward the room in the back, the bathroom.   

       I weave  through the store passing beautiful cabin furniture, Christmas decorations, animals, once living now stuffed and  mountain paintings…everything displayed in the perfect order to cause that desired cozy effect. I’m pulled by all sorts of distracting forces. Colors, textures, scents. Lit maple candles, their aroma summoning. But, I’m a chaser with a purpose.

     The bathroom is empty. I shut the door and lock it... close the throne’s lid and sit.  My camera is sprung from my backpack for a serious work out and I pray no one disturbs me. Now for the goods.  I inspect the place like I do every year and think…someone could manage a few mean chachacha steps in here. I quickly remind myself this is a bathroom for costumers and time is of the essence. I focus on the walls around me and Ah! Voila! Jackpot! Bingo!  There they are. Words in frames all over the walls... I am a word chaser!

   Yes!  I search for that particular message to impact me, thrill me, shake me. The  ancient Greek I once studied called it a rhema. A specific word for a situation.  For me, that special saying is like a warm, garment, fashioned not just with functional purpose but beyond that… with striking looks and decoration. A garment like those worn by  ladies in classic movies. A coat with a sparkling brooch. Just the right one to use in my cold winters.  

  I snap picture after picture determined to free the bathroom of its squatter. And then after the camera's last wink... I hear a knock on the door.

 “Someone in there?”   My time is up.

“Yes, coming.”

 Once again the store’s beautiful displays welcome me.  I find a nice rocking chair in which to sit and recall my visit to the store the year before.  That time my chase proved successful. I found the words of my mother’s favorite hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, inscribed in bold letters, with the musical notes below it. This is the hymn she wants sung at the celebration of her home going!  I thought of how the sign was a symbol, displaying the measure, of my mother’s strong faith. How often she claims… M y God is faithful. I brought that sign home to my mother, where it lives now, in her little living room.  

  The memory of my past victory chasing encourages me. I bring out my camera once again and look through my pictures. The signs in the bathroom are far from the beautiful coat with brooch I’m seeking. Common and over used they remind me of  the garment I once pulled out of a box in a church basement. One used coat among many, tossed in a box under the sign, For Cuban Refugees Going North.

  I put my camera away and sit with my heart holding its popped balloon. What to do? Should I give up the chase?

 My eyes wonder around scanning and then…a sign on the wall.

The words are embroidered,  and the colors of the sign are quiet, subtle. But, I find myself breathing faster.  I have heard this before. My daughter  found this message after the sonogram. The day, her six and eight year old girls, her husband, and I waited in the room with her, to find out whether she was expecting a little boy or girl.  The day, the technician said to all of us…the baby has no heartbeat.

  I read the words inside the frame. Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about  learning to dance in the rain. I search for a tissue and know my chase is over. I found the coat with the rich, diamond brooch from Tiffany’s! A rhema to hold close…a rhema to hold me close.

  I purchase my sign and then find myself standing once again in Murphy’s sunshine. The temperature is up now. Wrapped in warmth without and within I reach for my cell phone and dial the familiar number. Time to chase something else I love. My chocolate milk chaser!

Maundy Thursday... What's Maundy?

       

                                                 Maundy Thursday... What's Maundy?

                

                  Being of the curious sort and originally from another culture, I always wondered why churches in the U.S., had signs that advertise services for Maundy Thursday. Here is what I found.

      What scholars believe:

1. Most scholars agree that the word Maundy is derived from the Latin word mandatum,  from which we get the word mandate.

  2. Mandatum is the first word in the Latin translation of the words of Jesus spoken at The Last Supper; "A new commandment I give you, that ye love one another, as I have loved you." (John 13:34) 

 3. This direction or mandatum of Jesus was then followed by the washing of the apostles feet the night before His crucifixion. ( I was surprised to read this custom of  the washing of feet is still practiced in some churches on Maundy Thursday, although I once had my feet washed at a ceremony. Humbling experience.)

       What others believe:

   1.  There're some who believe the English name "Maundy Thursday" came from "mundsor baskets" or "maundy purses" of alms which the king of England gave to the poor before attending Mass on that day. The "maund" is connected to the Latin mendicare, to beg.

                                                                             

       Today, this Maundy Thursday, what will happen around the world?

   1. The Maundy Thursday celebration in the United kingdom will involve the Monarch offering "alms" to deserving senior citizens (one man and one woman for each year of the sovereign's age). These coins, known as Maundy money or Royal Maundy, are distributed in red and white purses. The red purse contains regular currency and is given in place of food and clothing. The white purse contains currency in the amount of one penny for each year of the Sovereign's age. (I guess, the older the Monarch, the better?)

  2. In Luxembourg, church bells will be silent from Maundy Thursday till Easter. Children have the custom of going through the streets calling people to church with melancholy wooden rattling.

 3. In Malta, on Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday, there's a tradition of visiting seven churches. This tradition is believed to have originated in Rome.

 4. In the Philippines, most business establishments cease operations from Holy Thursday to Black Saturday. Television and radio stations either go completely off-air during that period or operate limited hours. They usually broadcast special shows with themes of Holy Week.

  * What do I remember about the celebration of this day from my childhood in Cuba?

      I remember various years of going to seven churches with my parents and my sister and feeling very tired and solemn afterwards. The statues in the churches were covered up and in the atmosphere... a respectful sadness.

         Now, the next time I drive around and see the sign, "Maundy Services"... I'll have an idea of  what they're talking about.

          

The Vision (Jerusalem, 33 A.D.)

                THE VISION    (Jerusalem, 33 A.D.)      To all my family and friends,
                 by Amarilys G. Rassler                               a very blessed Easter!
 
          The blackest night upon this earth,
          The ruler of darkness beaming.                                    John 13:2
          The traitor's kiss upon Your face,                                Mark 14:41-45
          The foulest vermin scheming.

          How dark the souls of those who come
          To tie You and restrain You,                                       John 18:12-14
          How fast the feet of those who flee                             Mark 14:50-52
          Who in the past proclaimed You.

          Across the ceaseless miles of time
          My feet cemented to this sight
          My heart inside me spinning,
          The mob inflamed with hatred's dart,                                                         
          The Prince of Darkness winning?                                Luke 22:53

          The cruelest plot to end Your life                               Matthew 27:1
          The beatings without measure,                                 Matthew 27:26
          The crimson flood, Your precious blood,                  I Peter 1:18,19
          By Heaven's Throne so treasured.

          And helpless I do stand, and watch
          Trembling at the hammer's pounding,                       Matthew 27:35
          As purple veins within Your Hands
          Exploding drops to yellow sands
          Grievously remind me,

          I'm the culprit for Your plight,                                  Romans 3:23-26
          Your death for me will win the fight                        Matthew 26:26-28
          Against the foe of this dark night.                            John 12:31,32

                                                                    John 19:30!

           The earth trembles! The heavens weep!                 Matthew 27:51,54

           Silence....


                                                  
  *There's a strong connection between this blog and the blog, Birth Of A Minor Poet.

Birth Of A Minor Poet

                                  Birth Of A Minor Poet                                       

                                                            An Easter Story

          She handed the book to me. Her smile curved in the shape of a giant slice of watermelon.

          "Here. You gotta  read this," my friend said.

          "What is this? More books?" I tried to balance the book in my hands and control my  frustration. It was a bit heavy and looked dusty, old, dull. I had enough material to read. 

          "You'll like it. It might just take you places," she said. I stared at the watermelon resurfacing. This friend had recommended books before and many times following her advice had paid off.

            Two days later I open the book and for the first time noticed its format. I turned pages to find  works of writer friends,  Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Passages of same scenes written by each of these authors had been placed side by side. It made it easy to compare the same stories the writers described but each with a different voice and style. My friend had given me what is titled as Synopsis of the Four Gospels. Most people I know seem to recognize it by its nickname now, The Gospels In Stereo.

           It was the week before Easter and I chose to spend any spare time I had in solitude, reading and studying  passages of The Last Supper and the Crucifixion. What happened then I attribute to great concentration and a well-exercised imagination. In an instant I was among them, invisible yet present, caught in the drama...an agonizing bystander. A vision jolted me into Jerusalem, 33 A.D.   

        Soon after, among the pain brought by my identification with the suffering One, I experienced the unfamiliar.Words, with angry speed, tumbled  from my pen to the paper. A poem. My first poem. 

       The Vision, the poem, was well received the first night I visited TWA's poetry group. A gentle leader liked it and encouraged me to keep writing. The Vision was once used at Busch Gardens, Tampa, in a lecture/devotional, requested of me as a volunteer chaplain for the employees of Busch Gardens.    

          Today, The Vision  stands in a picture frame in our home. It lives to remind me...

                I follow dusty feet in Jerusalem sandals. I'm happiest when I stay low,

                                                 my cheek next to the Savior's scars.